Apr 28

Whenever I hear a critic claim that Rules of Engagement (ROE) gets our Soldiers killed, I always want to scream, "Well, what's your [expletive] alternative? (If you want to know who the ROE critics are, check out my post “Why Leaders Make the ROE.”) Since ROE opponents rarely provide specific alternatives to the ROE, I am going to take their anti-ROE position to its (il)logical extreme.

Our current rules of engagement specify, in broad terms, that our Soldiers and Marines must positively identify targets as exhibiting hostile intent. That intent could be firing a weapon, or preparing to fire a weapon (including an IED), but hostile intent must be present; our Soldiers always have the right to self-defense.

So what is the direct opposite of our current ROE, the other end of the spectrum? It would be that any Soldier or Marine could target anyone they want, regardless of identification or hostility (short of intentionally shooting their own men). This ROE would not hold Soldiers as legally responsible for anyone they kill regardless of the circumstances.

Just pause and imagine this scenario.

Soldiers could drop as many 2,000 pound bombs on as many villages as they want. A Soldier could line up villagers and shoot them one by one to get answers. During a fire fight, any person moving, fleeing or running is a viable target, any person regardless of age, intent, or hostility. There would be no consequnces for our Soldiers actions.

Obviously, the “Free Fire ROE” is impossible. No one could support it. At a minimum, there have to be some rules to prevent needless civilian casualties, genocide and torture. ROE opponents must acknowledge at least some form of ROE. So while you can criticize the specifics of our current ROE, you can’t condemn the concept wholesale.

(The other obvious problem with the “Free Fire ROE” is that it removes all ability of commanders to control the fire of their men. Commanders need to control the the fight; ROE allows that.)

Is there a way to take a pro-ROE position to its extreme? There is. If Soldiers couldn't ever shoot anyone, that would hamstring an Army into paralysis. It would, but that is why you don't take things to extremes, and you have a reasonable ROE that keeps Soldiers and civilians alive.

The problem isn't ROE, it is bad ROE.

Apr 27

(Click here for our review of "Where Men Win Glory")

I can usually guess if I will enjoy a book before I read it. For instance, I loved Into the Wild and Under the Banner of Heaven (which I read months ago, but held off on publishing my thoughts because the book is so controversial). So when I heard Jon Krakauer was tackling the life of Pat Tillman, I was all for it.

That is, until I read the reviews. Two individuals whose work I greatly admire--Dexter Filkins and Abu Muqawama (nee Andrew Exum)--massacred Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman, so I didn't know what to expect.

Andrew Exum writes a mostly critical review, with several good points. For instance, he explains in simple terms that, "blaming the Bush administration for all that has befallen the U.S. military in Iraq and Afghanistan unfairly excuses the military itself for the many errors it made." I couldn't agree more. He also charges Krakauer with borrowing a little too heavily from Steve Coll and Lawrence Wright for his background information.

I think Exum, probably without realizing it, takes too much of Krakauer's criticism to heart, and this colors his review. Where Men Win Glory isn’t really about the whole US Army; it is much more about the elite Army Rangers--Exum's former unit. When the Rangers show up in Where Men Win Glory, they read like power-crazed frat boys. Army Rangers belittle new recruits, follow senseless time schedules, and ultimately covered up and lied about Pat Tillman’s death. The elite US Army Rangers look like amateurish jerks, far from their reputation.

And I wish Abu Muqawama would have responded to this. Pat Tillman is the best of the best, so why did he desperately want to leave this vaunted organization? Exum does agree that the officers in charge of the Tillman situation made gigantic errors, but I don't think he addresses the subtle condemnation of the Rangers as an outfit.

Andrew Exum's review ended up raising plenty of controversy. Because of his close relationship with both the Army Rangers and General Stanley McChrystal--Krakauer criticizes both in Where Men Win Glory--Jon Krakauer took issue with Exum's percieved bias. I agree that Exum probably had some bias, but no more than any officer or former officer trying to rationalize the actions of the larger military.

Dexter Filkins also took issue with Where Men Win Glory for mostly stylistic choices, not the content as Abu Muqawama did. It seems like his main point is that he wanted more Afghanistan scenes, and less background into Pat Tillman's life. I disagree though. Pat Tillman's life is inseparable from the background that led to his death. Afghanistan, the Rangers, the cover up, and even the Jessica Lynch rescue provide the context for why he gave his life in Afghanistan.

Finally, I recommend this article by Charles McGrath because it has this killer quote by Krakauer: "There are a lot of officers who will risk their lives for their country, but damn few who will risk their careers." I couldn't agree more.

Apr 26

I call it the “Michael Crichton/Tom Clancy Character Syndrome.” When every character is not just good, but the best, ever. In Jurassic Park, for example, there's the best geneticist, the best computer programmer, and the best big game hunter. Tom Clancy's John Clark is the ultimate spy and Jack Ryan is the ultimate analyst. In Crichton/Clancy novels, no one is just "the guy who's ok at stuff."

It pops up occasionally in non-fiction writing too, especially if you deal with people who live at the extremes of life as Jon Krakauer does in his books. He brings real--and exceptional--people to life. He does a better job than most biographers in probing mankind's limits, physically and mentally.

Krakauer has written about men climbing the world's the tallest mountain, a person who dropped out of society, and the extremes of religious fanaticism. Do the extremes of violence--war--fit into his world? Absolutely. In Where Men Win Glory, he takes on one of our nation's most exceptional contradictions: Pat Tillman, the intelligent football player who dropped a lucrative NFL contract to join the Army Rangers. Overall, he tells Pat Tillman's story well, with perhaps a bit too much applause. In the last quarter of the book, when he takes on the military's handling of his death, he excels at revealing the US Army leadership as one more concerned with PR than mission accomplishment.

Krakauer loves his characters. In Into the Wild, the main character is a recluse, but sounds like the smartest, most gifted, most charismatic recluse who ever walked the earth. Even the violent extremists in Under the Banner of Heaven come across as the most violent, most charismatic extremists you will ever meet. He might not love them, but he certainly admires them.

And Pat Tillman is equally impressive. A professional football player with an extremely high GPA from the University of Arizona is nothing to laugh at. But it seems like he has no faults in Where Men Win Glory. His being an obnoxious American to French people is downplayed as just a guy having some fun. His assault on an innocent student during high school comes across as nothing more than an accident.

After you get past Krakauer's near-worship of Tillman, the work takes off. When I was finished, I understood why Tillman joined the military, and why, until the end, he was conflicted about going to combat. Krakauer captures the bizarre duality of wanting to excel in your job--fighting wars--but detesting the slaughter and devastation that come with it. He also captures the crucial moments of fear Tillman felt, and Tillman's growing frustration with the US Army and the US Army Rangers; all emotions I understand.

But Where Men Win Glory has one central theme bigger than Pat Tillman's tale, and Krakauer argues it very well: the military is a CYA place. When mistakes are made, the military does what it can to avoid punishing those responsible, and then obscures the truth if needed. This happens three times in Where Men Win Glory: the Jessica Lynch rescue, a Marine Corps friendly fire debacle in Nasiriyah, and the death of Pat Tillman. In each case, dramatic mistakes were made; in each case, the military never blamed its subordinate commanders. And in each case, the initial press releases deliberately misled the media.

Maybe the Jessica Lynch rescue, or the history of Afghanistan, or countless other asides take us too far from the Tillman tale. Or they help weave a tapestry that was Pat Tillman's life, and death. And when writing about Pat Tillman's death, you can't ignore the military's impulses to cover up every mistake they make.

Apr 21

I was laying prone on the rocky ground, something I hardly ever did in Afghanistan.

My heart pounded so loudly I thought it would break through my chest. I had never been more nervous. I feared for my life.

I was sitting at the rocky outcrop on the southern part of the Korengal Outpost, the KOP. Taliban swarmed up the hillside, surrounding me. The men who were with me fell back; I couldn't stem the retreat. I knew at that moment I would die on that hill.

And then I woke up, alone in my apartment in Vicenza, Italy. It was the worst nightmare I'd ever had. In my dream, I had returned to the Korengal Valley, later nicknamed the "Valley of Death." I only spent a couple months in the Korengal, but it felt much longer. The place haunted me before I arrived in Afghanistan; it still haunts me.

All these memories came back when I saw the photos of the Korengal Valley last week. Instead of US forces fighting for the population, it is now controlled by the insurgents I fought against.



The US Army, under General McChrystal, decided to move all troops out of the Korengal last week. If I am being intellectually honest, it makes sense from a counter-insurgency perspective. But while I can understand the move rationally, emotionally it just feels wrong.

So here is a collection of links about the Korengal Valley and the recent decision to pull out of the valley:

I first heard about the Korengal Valley through this Nightline piece by Sebastian Junger. I watched it in Vicenza, Italy a few days before I left for Afghanistan. This footage made the war very real, and very sudden.

Sebastian Junger's recent New York Times OpEd is probably the most thoughtful of the accounts about our retreat/retrograde/draw-down in the Korengal.

For the best images, this photo gallery by Time captures the essence of the valley very well. It was taken after Battle Company and the ROCK had left Afghanistan, but the people are still the same.

Finally, Jeff Schneider captures the fundamental conundrum of the Korengal in this piece for the Huffington Post.

Apr 20

Quick heads up:

Michael C just had a guest post published at Problogger titled, "9 Things Bloggers Can (and Can’t) Learn from the Army" Check it out.

Apr 19

(To read the entire "War Memoirs" series, please click here.)

Last week I wrote up a (preliminary) list of things I felt should be included in every post 9/11 war memoir. Of course, the moment I published the post, I realized I left something out: failure. Specifically, a lack of connection between the what happens in the memoir and what happens in the larger war. In the case of Iraq and Afghanistan, this means an explanation of why we are (or were) failing.

In Iraq, between the invasion of 2003 and the semi-civil war of 2006, something went wrong. If you wrote a memoir about that period, I'd like to know why you think we struggled for three years, and how you feel about this. Afghanistan is a mess that is getting messier. If you served in Afghanistan, I'd like to know how you feel about a war that has taken ten years to possibly lose. Of the war memoirs I've read, only The War I Always Wanted provided this kind of historical context.

I don't necessarily want to know why the failures happened. This is the purview of essays and opinion pieces--which, ironically, most memoir authors write to promote their books. (Mullaney opined on both The Colber Report and The Daily Show about Afghanistan; just today I listened to Matt Gallagher discuss the Apache shooting video.) Memoirs aren't about politics, but human emotion. And I can't think of a more powerful human emotion than the reaction to failure.

So why do authors omit failure?

First, the standard war memoir narrative doesn't necessarily lend itself to this sort of reaction. Usually the story is: Soldier gets trained, Soldier gets deployed, a quick afterword, and the memoir ends. This doesn't excuse it though. Most memoirs were written years after the conflict; writers had the opportunity to reflect on their experience and choose not to.

Second, we have a hard timing owning up to failure. No one wants to think that they specifically contributed to losing a war. In the words of A Farewell to Arms, "what has been done here could not have been done in vain."  No one wants to think their time, stress, energy and lives have been given away foolishly. No one wants to think they were a part of a wasted effort. And yet the first three or four years in Iraq were just that. And no one wants to think they lost a Solider in a war the country was ignoring. And yet the first seven years in Afghanistan were just that.

And I want that reaction.

There is a connection to COIN here. Some of the memoirs depict Soldiers not practicing COIN, the invasion of Iraq in particular. And yet apart from a few asides, no author (except Brandon Friedman) really states that the lack of troops and the overwhelming number of civilian casualties led to Iraq's future troubles. Evan Wright writes in Generation Kill's afterward that he's actually surprised the Iraq War lasted so long.

Michael, when reviewing this post, wrote that a platoon leader usually doesn't have much impact on the larger war. I agree. While that might be true, that doesn't stop Soldiers from saying they helped win wars. Hell, people my age still talk about World War II as if they helped contribute to the victory. If you talk about victory, then you need to talk about failure as well.

(Ed. Note: trish pointed out below that this criticism doesn't apply to pre-9/11 war memoirs and I agree. I've changed the post to reflect that.)

Apr 15
(Today's post is a guest post by longtime reader Matty P. If you would like to guest write for us, please check out our guest post guidelines. We look forward to publishing reader posts on future Thursdays.)

I hit him hard against the chest and met resistance. I hit him a second time, harder, directly against his sternum. Adrenaline is speeding my motions. I have to pace myself, find my timing, control my blows. A co-worker joins in my struggle, stabbing at the man's arm. Another person tries to strap him down so he can’t flail at us while we go about our brutal task. I continue to my attack and hear a crack. But I don't relent. I continue hard against his chest. I pause, allowing another co-worker to force something down our victim's throat. We all stand back as we electrocute him.

This goes on in cycles for several minutes. And if we've done everything perfectly, we've saved his life. 

It's called a full arrest. Our patient's heart has stopped or doesn't have the ability to supply the body and brain with the blood they so desperately need. In order to correct the situation we assault the patient's body. It sounds like a back ally beating. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation is not a gentle process. Chest compressions require forcing the chest wall in a direction opposite of its normal direction of expansion. More often than not, ribs break. If done improperly a portion of the sternum can sever. Or the xiphoid process can detach and puncture an internal organ. More than that, the compressions have to be timed correctly with precise depth while simultaneously allowing for recoil so the heart can not only pump blood, but fill up with blood as well.

Meanwhile, paramedics must start an intravenous line to push medications that affect the heart. This requires an eighteen gauge or larger bore needle to ensure the vein doesn’t collapse. Medications are given that directly affect the body's normal physiology, forcing the heart to act the way we want, constricting blood vessels, and dilating the smooth muscle of the lungs. We intubate by placing a tube down the throat so we can supply oxygen directly to the lungs. With a bag, we provide positive pressure to the lungs to cause them to expand and fill with oxygen. Finally, we use controlled burst of electricity to affect the heart rhythm. Though it can benefit the normal electrical cascade, each shock infarcts muscle, killing a small portion of the heart.

Saving a life that is nearly gone requires vigorous and violent effort. Without an understanding of what is happening our actions seem barbaric and malicious. Such is the importance of context. Without it actions are purposeless. Violence is incomprehensible. Without context CPR seems like an assault. Similarly, without context, a war on terror is interpreted as a military invasion and occupation, or a suicide bombing is construed to be a man wanting to die while causing others to die. There is context to these actions and events that go missing. It’s important to understand and address the motivations and purposes of such actions in order to prevent further violence.
Apr 14

The Army loves football. Two sides face off, taking ground and battling to a violent finish, what's not to like?

I also love football. And today I want to connect it to counter-insurgency.

Most people watch football by "following the ball," meaning they focus on the player holding the football. They ignore, for the most part, the other players on the field. The quarterback takes the ball from the center, then throws it to a receiver down field, and the viewer watches those players the whole time. The camera follows the ball; so does the average viewer.

Why is this? Because the action is the exciting part of the play; its the sexy part. I mean, the player with the ball is the only one who can score. He's also the one who is going to get hit.

But it isn’t the whole story.

Regular viewers hardly ever watch the offensive linemen during a play. Even hardcore fans would struggle to name an offensive linemen. No one chooses linemen for their fantasy leagues. They're the unsung heroes of the gridiron, primarily because fans are too busy watching the ball. Every great run, and every great pass, has an offensive linemen creating the play. Watching the ball means you are missing the offensive lineman, the defense and the creation of the play.

Ok Michael, how does this relate to counter-insurgency?

The Army only watches the ball during counter-insurgencies. The ball in this case is the death of American Soldiers. The event that leads to that death, for example an IED, is only the end result of a long process. An IED ambush requires reconnaissance, logistics, intelligence, bomb-making, local support, information operations and finally, direct action. But both maneuver commanders and intelligence specialists primarily care about the final explosion, not the whole process. The IED explosion is like the touchdown, everything before that is the action away from the ball.

We spend hundreds of millions, if not billions, on countering IEDs at the point of impact. We notice explosions. We care about the so-called “kinetic” events. But those are like following the ball, not following the creation of the play.

Strategically, as a nation, we follow the ball--meaning the death of American Soldiers. That is really the only metric that the American public cares about. It is like tracking touchdowns, but no other statistic on the battlefield.

As a military, we get distracted by the sexy part of the insurgency--the IEDs--and we ignore the complex part of the insurgency--everything else. We have improved (read the Flynn report and the Petraeus counter-insurgency manual) but we have a long way to go.