May 2025 Owens Receives Gephardt Award

ADM William “Bill” Owens, USN (ret.) Receives the Gephardt Award for Courageous Leadership at the Saber Six Gala

It is with great honor and privilege that Saber Six Foundation announces that Honorable Richard A Gephardt will present the inaugural Gephardt Award for Courageous Leadership to ADM “Bill” Owens on May 8, 2025.

The Gephardt Award is presented annually to a U.S. citizen whose exceptional courage in uniting people amidst physical, mental, emotional, or moral adversity exemplifies the values of the Saber Six Foundation. This award honors individuals who put Country over Self, standing resolute in the face of challenge to foster unity where division might otherwise prevail.

A Selection of ADM Owen’s exemplary actions verbally conveyed by him and compiled by Chris Kolenda, Founder of Saber Six Foundation.

Physical Courage: Demonstrating bravery by confronting bodily harm or danger with composure and determination, setting an example of resilience and duty under physical threat. 

Service in Vietnam
During the Vietnam War, then-Lieutenant Bill Owens served aboard a fast-attack submarine conducting covert missions with special operations teams. “I was the one who was assigned to go with the SEALs out the escape hatch of the submarine onto land and help them ashore,” he recalled. “It was nighttime… the submarine is submerged… you flood the chamber, and then you swim to the surface. Then you’re in a little raft, rolling in the dark toward the coast.”

This dangerous, silent insertion reflected not only technical precision but moral clarity. “I consider myself not a coward,” Owens said with humility, “but these SEAL Team 6 and Delta Force guys — they’re something else.” He was not just observing — he was part of the mission, alongside younger sailors facing combat conditions for the first time.

Reflecting on those early experiences, Owens often emphasized the extraordinary courage of enlisted personnel. “The chief petty officers were like gold,” he said. “They saved my ass many times — some of them were smarter than us.” This early leadership under pressure and among heroes would shape Owens’ unique command style: humble, collaborative, and deeply loyal to those he served alongside.

Cold War Submarine Command and the Maritime Strategy
In the icy waters of the Cold War, Admiral Owens lived the phrase “hours of boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror.” Commanding submarines near the Arctic, Owens and his crews operated in isolation, often the only Americans near the Soviet Union’s bastions. “We were there with these guys. We weren’t alone,” he said. “They would shoot at you, and sometimes defending yourself was necessary.”

He led missions beneath the polar ice cap, navigating treacherous terrain to show the U.S. flag — and America’s resolve. “One time, we operated in a Soviet port just to scare the hell out of them,” Owens recalled. It was part of a broader shift to what became known as the Maritime Strategy: confront the enemy directly, even in their own waters.

Amid these risks, his crew needed more than tactical brilliance — they needed emotional steadiness. “They needed stability. You couldn’t be a guy shouting and screaming,” he said. “You had to be calm. You had to be ready.”

He built trust by walking the tightrope between authority and friendship. “I always thought you needed to be the captain — but also their friend,” he said. “That balance changes everything.”

Mental Courage: The willingness to challenge assumptions, embrace innovation, and confront complex problems with fresh ideas, despite the discomfort of questioning established norms or risking failure. 

Post-Cold War Defense Decisions and the Revolution in Military Affairs
As Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Owens led some of the most controversial and visionary reforms in post-Cold War military history. “The Cold War was over. We cut the defense budget from $640 billion to $320 billion,” he said. “We decommissioned 14,000 airplanes and 120 bases. My own submarine force? We cut two-thirds.”

But the cuts weren’t arbitrary. Owens redirected funding — $50 billion — into technologies that would later revolutionize warfare. “Precision bombs, UAVs, joint communications — that came from those decisions,” he said. He was adamant about smarter, more integrated forces. “We analyzed cross-service capabilities,” he said. “We had to ask: are we fighting wars effectively with an integrated force?”

His work wasn’t always popular. “The Congress didn’t like me. The services didn’t like me,” Owens admitted. “They even talked about holding me in contempt of Congress.” But he never wavered. “I’d do it all over again. Of course.”

Behind it all was a conviction rooted in history and philosophy: “I learned from Sun Tzu — technology is a big part of winning.” Owens’ legacy in the Revolution in Military Affairs continues to shape U.S. defense posture, even as the institutions he once challenged continue to grapple with his questions.

NORTEL
After retiring from the Navy, Bill Owens was asked to lead Nortel, a global telecom giant in deep crisis. “They needed an old, gray-headed, trustworthy guy to be the CEO because we were firing the CEO,” he said with characteristic humility. Owens delayed his move to China and stepped in. “It was a time of trouble,” he said, “but I always believed in being close to people — and they’ll know if you’re authentic.”

One moment tested him deeply. A multi-billion-dollar deal with LG was poised for signing after months of negotiation. “The lawyer came to me and said, ‘You can’t sign it. There are three or four real issues in the contract.’” Owens paused. “I looked at the LG CEO, and I knew we could work it out. I trusted him. So I signed it.”

The legal team wasn’t pleased — but for Owens, trust and integrity mattered more. “We can’t live our lives driven by lawyers — or admirals,” he said, referencing past military decisions. “You just do what you know is right.”

He led Nortel through significant challenges with the same core principle that guided his service: shared struggle, human connection, and bold action in uncertainty.

U.S.–China Dialogue and the Sanya Initiative
After retiring, Owens lived in China for eight years — and saw the dangers of mutual misunderstanding. “If you care about your kids’ future,” he said, “you’ve got to find a way to be friendly with China.”

Disappointed by sterile government exchanges, Owens launched the Sanya Initiative — a private dialogue of five retired four-star officers from each side. “No newspapers. No TV. But it wasn’t secret either. We reported back to the Joint Chiefs, the NSC, the ambassador,” he explained.

What made it work? Honest conversation and mutual respect. “We’d talk about Taiwan, about the South China Sea, about the Uyghurs — and we learned there are always two sides to every story.”

Owens’ biggest insight: empathy. “China’s had 17 borders. They’ve been invaded, humiliated. Their foreign policy? Don’t interfere in other nations. I wish we’d remembered that before Iraq and Afghanistan.”

The dialogue continues today. Owens believes in “finding the middle ground — not just with China, but everywhere.” His leadership built bridges in one of the world’s most dangerous fault lines.

Emotional Courage: The capacity to engage in difficult, high-stakes interpersonal conflicts with empathy and authenticity, embracing vulnerability to learn, grow, and forge stronger connections. 

Caleb’s Story
One spring day, a young boy named Caleb grabbed Admiral Owens’ hand. Caleb hadn’t spoken in two years. He had suffered abuse and trauma beyond imagining. “He told his counselor I was an angel,” Owens recalled, “just because I was wearing a white uniform.”

Owens stayed in Caleb’s life. They exchanged letters. Owens visited multiple times each year. Caleb began speaking again. “He wasn’t super bright,” Owens said, “but he was super good.” Caleb joined the Marine Corps. He became a sniper. And on the first day of Desert Storm, he was killed in Basra.

At the Intrepid Award ceremony, Owens brought Caleb’s surviving squadmates on stage — all wounded Marines. “These are the heroes,” he said, “not guys like me.” It was an emotional tribute to an extraordinary life — and to the power of belief and mentorship.

Owens still remembers Caleb’s first letter: “I hope you’ll come see me again.” He did. Again and again.

Leadership as 6th Fleet Commander in the First Gulf War 

As Commander of the U.S. 6th Fleet during Desert Storm, Admiral Owens faced one of the most sobering responsibilities in military leadership: preparing young Americans for war. “We hadn’t been in a war since Vietnam,” he said. “The estimates were that we were going to lose 10,000 guys that first day.”

Owens personally visited every ready room aboard all six aircraft carriers under his command. “I’d say to the pilots, ‘You know better than I do how this is going to go… If any of you feel like you’re not ready, stop by my stateroom tonight — no black mark, no judgment.’”

No one did. “Not a single one,” Owens said, emotion in his voice. “And the next day, they went in. It was a big success.”

That night before the war — what Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin once called “the hardest moment” — left a mark on Owens. “You ask yourself: can I pull myself up by the bootstraps and be everything I can be at this moment?” he reflected.

He didn’t offer bombast. He offered presence. “I’m not a George Patton guy,” he said. “I’m a weepy leader. I hugged them.” His leadership — grounded in empathy, honesty, and readiness — inspired extraordinary resolve from the men and women he led.

Moral Courage: Standing firm in your principles, ethics, and values, even when faced with intense pressure, opposition, or personal risk, guided by integrity and a commitment to doing what is right.

Launch Key Discussions
As a submarine commander, Owens held one of the nation’s gravest responsibilities — the potential launch of nuclear missiles. “There were two keys. One was mine. The other belonged to a junior officer,” he said. “We had 24 missiles, each with five reentry vehicles, each one a thousand times more powerful than Hiroshima.”

With communications limited in those days, the decision to launch would rely entirely on two men. Owens took that weight seriously. “We had deep conversations in the wardroom. I told them: ‘I believe in my faith. And I believe that if the moment comes, I will turn the key. And if I can’t, I should not be here.’”

He offered every officer the same out: “If you can’t do it, I’ll find you a great job elsewhere. But not here.”

It was more than a technical procedure — it was a moral reckoning. “You have to trust the system, the country, and each other,” he said. “That conversation brought us closer together. We all understood what it meant to be given that responsibility.”

In his steady tone, Owens revealed what few ever confront: the personal reality of nuclear command.

The Chinese Junk Boat Incident

In 1980, Captain Bill Owens surfaced his submarine off the coast of China — and immediately faced a crisis. “I had my scope through the bottom of a Chinese junk,” he recalled. “There was a little family on board. The admiral had told me, ‘If that happens, lower the scope and get the hell out of there.’”

Instead, Owens made a split-second choice. “I decided to broach the submarine and get the family on board. The kids were fed ice cream, the wife was taken care of — the husband and I watched his little boat sink through the periscope.” Owens even gave the man the crew’s $50,000 impress fund. “He opened it up, and he was no longer unhappy.”

After three days aboard, Owens transferred the family to a British destroyer. “When I got back to Pearl, my admiral said, ‘You didn’t follow my orders.’ I said, ‘That’s right, sir. But I thought it was the right thing to do.’”

The crew rallied behind him. “Our chief of the boat told me, ‘We’re so proud of you.’ That meant more than anything.”

Owens never regretted the choice. “It might not have helped my career, but it bound us together as men.”