Battle Ready

by Tom Clancy

  This ambiguity between the U.S. and the UN understanding of what had to be done came to haunt both the U.S. Restore Hope operation and its UN successor, which came to be called UNOSOM II.

  THE FORCE designed to bring initial order to Somalia’s chaos was General Johnston’s JTF:

  The Marine piece would consist of a Marine Air Ground Task Force, centering on the 1st Marine Division, with logistics and air components. The Army had designated the 10th Mountain Division as their part. The Navy was going to bring in maritime preposition ships and a carrier; and naval P-3 aircraft, flying out of Djibouti, would also be available. The Air Force brought in C-130s and a number of other aircraft to augment Marine Corps air. There were also special operations components.

  General Hoar was additionally looking at a coalition involvement that would include participation from African, Gulf region, and Western countries. (He called this “a 3-3-1 Strategy.”) Because Somalia was both an African and an Islamic country, it was politically important for CENTCOM to be seen in Africa and in the Islamic world as encouraging their involvement. He also wanted one other Western force as a leavening factor; and the Canadians had already committed to sending a brigade. (Later, the numbers of other participating countries exploded. By the end of the operation, there were twenty-six of them.)

  Once the various pieces of the force had arrived in Somalia, they had to be fused together. The CENTCOM and I MEF staffs had already put in much work on that, as well as the more obvious issues of deployment, logistics support, and bases (General Hoar wanted to use regional bases in Kenya and Djibouti as support bases, for example). Sequencing in a large force into the Horn of Africa’s slender infrastructure was not going to be easy.

  The biggest problem faced by the planners, however, was that they didn’t yet understand exactly what had to be done once the forces were on the ground. This was an unusual mission, and few of them really understood its nature. Like General Hoar, they’d had no experience dealing with NGOs and the UN, much less bringing order to a failed third world nation . . . and saving lives there. Though shooting, killing, and destruction were seen as inevitable, this was in no way a typical combat mission. They were groping badly trying to comprehend it.

  Here Zinni brought his greatest contribution.

  After a day at CENTCOM headquarters, Zinni and the rest of the I MEF staff left for Camp Pendleton. By then, he had a basic understanding of the situation in Somalia and the mission they’d be mounting to deal with it. Yet, at the same time, the situation on the ground was breaking fast, and there was no clear picture of what was actually happening there or what had to be done.

  The following week was spent on round-the-clock frantic planning and coordination.

  Zinni, Johnston, and key members of their team took off on a C-141 for Somalia on the ninth of December. A Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) had meanwhile been positioned off Mogadishu in amphibious ships and would land to secure the port, airfield, and U.S. Embassy that day. The command team’s C-141 landed on the tenth.

  MOGADISHU

  Tony Zinni:

  A few hours out of the Mogadishu airport, we received a call that the French government had decided to participate in the operation and had dispatched a general to Mogadishu from Djibouti, where there was a French base; but the French government had insisted that their general be the first on the ground. Bob Johnston’s reply was, “Bullshit”; and, as the coalition commander, he ordered the French to stand off as we landed. They complied.

  This little show of hauteur had nothing to do with the French military, who were superb troops (and often suffered for their government’s arrogance). I knew from operations like Provide Comfort that they were worth their weight in gold on the ground and we welcomed their participation, despite the initial flap. They did not let us down.

  It was hot when we landed (Mogadishu is not far from the equator); and the airport was a wreck, with old Soviet MiGs and other wreckage trashed and in piles off to the side, but Marines from the MEU were already in positions to defend it. We were met by the MEU commander, Greg Newbold,61 who gave us a quick brief on the situation:

  During the night before the MEU’s landing, he reported, he had sent in SEALs to recon; somebody had somehow got wind of it and reported this to the Western press who were hanging out in Mogadishu. They came running down to the beach with their klieg lights and cameras for a brilliant media welcome to the SEALs as they swam in. It was a very confused—and later very notorious—moment. (It further convinced me we needed to get a better handle on what was going on here.)

  Though Aideed had promised that the Marines would have no trouble during their landing (the airport and port were in southern Mogadishu—Aideed territory), Newbold took no chances.62 He immediately seized the port and air- field and put out security, pushing out looters and vagrants, then flew up to the abandoned U.S. Embassy compound and seized it.

  We came in right behind them, and we immediately began the inflow of forces. Troops would soon be flying into the airfield, marrying up with prepositioned equipment, now being off-loaded. Other units would quickly follow. The Canadian ships were on the way. We expected to spend our next days setting up the command post, receiving troops to rapidly begin operations, and coordinating with the other efforts on the ground.

  After the brief from Newbold, we moved to helicopters to fly the short distance to the U.S. Embassy compound. The sights from the helo as we flew over the city were overwhelming. The place was devastated . . . like Stalingrad after the battle. The people we could see seemed to be mostly combing through the ruins, searching for food or anything else of value.

  As we touched down at the embassy compound, the devastation became more immediate. The effects of the destruction and wanton looting of the buildings and grounds were everywhere. For now, the Marines had set up a hasty security perimeter around the compound, and were in the process of clearing out dead bodies and debris. A few refugees who had taken up residence were also being removed. The embassy itself was completely gutted. The rooms were blackened from fires and full of trash and human waste. Even the electrical wiring and granite floor tiles had been torn out; every window was broken. Though our troops were hard at work clearing the mess, we knew it would be a long, hard task to get this place ready for operations.

  We actually had other alternatives. The UN headquarters, for instance, was in a posh, intact housing compound; and one like it had been offered to Bob Johnston, but he had declined. It was our embassy—and a symbol of U.S. determination to reclaim its property.

  He also did not believe in special frills or comforts for the command element; we ate MREs like the troops and were the last to receive service facilities such as shower units.

  As I curled up the first night on the concrete floor of the room where I was sleeping, I wondered how this country could have fallen into such chaos and self-destruction. We faced a daunting task. The infrastructure was either destroyed or else practically unusable. It would take a major engineering effort to improve the roads, airfields, ports, and storage areas—not to mention electrical and water systems. The crude hospitals in Mogadishu were treating forty-five to fifty gunshot wounds on average per day; but these numbers sometimes reached one hundred fifty.

  Outside Mogadishu, food and other critical supplies could not get through to the needy. One convoy of twenty-five trucks had started out from Mogadishu the week before we arrived to deliver food to starving Somalis in Baidoa in the Triangle of Death. In order to get out of the city in the first place, the convoy had had to give up three trucks to pay off extortionists; it had lost twelve trucks to hijackers on the roads; and eight trucks were looted as they arrived. Only four trucks made it back to Mogadishu. None of the starving received the food the trucks had carried.

  OPERATION Restore Hope

  The mission of Combined Task Force Restore Hope was to secure the major air and sea facilities, key installations, and major relief distribution sites; provide open and free passage for human
itarian relief supplies; provide security for relief convoys and relief organizations; and assist in providing humanitarian relief under UN auspices. Our only role (as I understood it) was to provide an overwhelming security environment so that much-needed relief supplies could flow freely. This was seen as a short-term operation that would jump-start the stalled humanitarian efforts and give UNOSOM a chance to make adjustments and pick up the mission from us. (I learned later that the UN had a different view of our mission.)

  We had built our plan in four phases.

  The first phase involved establishing a lodgment and securing the major facilities necessary to bring in and store relief supplies. Since the port and airfield in Mogadishu were key to this purpose, and most of the relief organizations had their primary facilities in the capital, Phase I amounted to securing key installations in Mogadishu. Stretching out to the countryside would come later. We thought this would take thirty days, but we actually completed the first phase in seven.

  The second phase involved expanding operations to the major relief centers and setting up secure lines of communication throughout the country’s interior, allowing supplies to move unimpeded to the eight operational areas assigned to various American and international forces. The total area covered was half the size of Texas—remote, desolate, and with little usable infrastructure. We estimated this phase would also take thirty days, but the addition of numerous international forces allowed us to complete Phase II by December 28, nineteen days after we landed.

  The third phase—“the stabilization phase”—we saw as an undetermined period during which we would develop and improve conditions in preparation for the UN takeover of our mission. To our immense frustration, this phase lasted until March 26, as the UN proved extremely reluctant to assume the mission. Though we believed that an understanding had been reached between our government and the UN to make the handoff in mid-January, or at the latest mid-February, the UN command was slow to form and take charge, and in general dragged its feet.

  The fourth and last phase—the handoff to the UN—lasted until May 4. The transfer to the UN came about only after strong pressure and compromise by the U.S. government.

  OUR FIRST few days were incredibly hectic, with pressure to get everything done at once coming from all sides—the leadership in Washington, the press, the Somalis, the relief organizations, and the UN. All of them had their own ideas about what we should do, and they all wanted it done immediately.

  My first order of business was to get our command and control structure up and functioning. Fortunately, my crew of superb colonels overcame the horrible conditions and got the operations center rolling right off the bat. We were able to clean up the piles of crap and run our operation at the same time. There was no exemption for rank; generals through privates all pitched in.

  Every staff running a field operation has to quickly and smoothly put into place its “battle rhythm”—its daily routine, schedule of operations, and procedures, all supported by a system of communications and organization for commanding the operation. Traditional combat missions have preset procedures and roles that tend to hold things together even when the operation is fast-breaking. Fast-breaking missions that are nontraditional, and have the additional challenge of integrating coalition and civilian components, make establishing the battle rhythm far more difficult.

  In a cycle based on combat operations, you know when you’re going to attack and shoot and when the attack aircraft are going to fly. There are always surprises and friction, but the preset procedures help you through them. Here we were throwing all kinds of noncombat factors into the scheduling and timing coordination evolution: We were there to feed people, who need food every day. So when do the convoys have to go out in order to make sure food is delivered every day to the distribution sites? How do we coordinate the security requirements for the convoys? Out of nowhere, an NGO might come up with a plan to set up twenty-three feeding stations. They want security for them. “When are you going to man them?” we ask. “When are they going to open? Where will we meet you for the security?” And then we had to ask ourselves and answer: “How will we fit these requirements into our own capabilities?”

  These tasks become part of our operations cycle. Their relation to combat procedures is very slender.

  The morning after we arrived, I gave quick guidance on handling these requirements and left the implementation in the capable hands of my staff.

  THAT FIRST MORNING, General Johnston wanted us to get on the road right away to hook up with those running the political and humanitarian efforts. We set out in Humvees loaded with armed troops.

  Our first meeting was with the President’s recently appointed Special Envoy to Somalia, Ambassador Bob Oakley, at the U.S. Liaison Office (USLO), located at a nearby villa. The drive there gave me my first on-the-ground look at the horrific conditions in the city. Buildings were either bullet-riddled or collapsed; hard-looking gunmen roamed the streets, glaring fiercely as we passed; clusters of dazed and traumatized people wandered around poking listlessly in the rubble.

  At the USLO compound, we banged on the huge metal gate; two Somalis pushed it back and let us in. A pair of Diplomatic Security guards were in the driveway—the only security I saw. I made a mental note to check on increasing it.

  Oakley came out to greet us, a tall, slender, soft-spoken, and very savvy diplomat, with considerable experience in the third world as U. S. Ambassador to Pakistan, Zaire, and Somalia. Earlier, he’d been an intelligence officer in the Navy, and knew and understood the military. He proved to be a brilliant, low-key negotiator, who commanded tremendous respect from the Somalis and the international representatives on the scene. General Johnston and I took to him right away.

  What I’ve always liked about Bob Oakley is his “roll up your sleeves” attitude. In Somalia, he worked the art of the doable, and not some unreachable idealistic dream. He developed every likely avenue, and we’d go down whichever looked most passable. He also understood the necessary cooperation between humanitarian, political, and military efforts, and really went out of his way to make sure everything ran smoothly between them. Military officers were involved in all the serious political and humanitarian negotiations.

  The first order of business was security for Oakley’s small staff. We immediately agreed to put a Marine rifle squad at the compound.

  Oakley then introduced us to John Hirsch, an old Africa hand and friend of his, who’d originally been sent by the State Department to be Bob Johnston’s political adviser (POLAD). Later, Oakley asked if Hirsch could serve as both our POLAD and his deputy, and Johnston agreed instantly; this made great sense. It ensured the connection and coordination we all needed and proved an excellent decision.63

  Oakley then laid out his immediate plans.

  The first would soften our impact in the hinterland when we stretched out beyond the capital. Since we were an eight-hundred-pound gorilla, and a lot of suspicious armed men were out there, clashes were likely. His suggestion was to make advance arrangements with the local warlords and civil leaders. He would then move out ahead of us with a small Special Forces security detachment and symbolic food supplies. After the initial contact and food distribution, he’d explain our mission and intent, and then our forces would come in on his heels. His brave proposal worked to a tee.

  More immediately, he had arranged a meeting later that morning at the USLO compound with Mohammed Farah Aideed and Ali Mahdi Mohamed. Getting cooperation from them would secure our logistics base in Mogadishu and expedite our move out of the city . . . and advance a further agenda of Oakley’s—a plan to anchor political stability by gaining an agreement among the fifteen faction leaders fighting for power in southern Somalia. He would press the two warlords to accept a seven-point agreement he was introducing. Once he had their okay, he would take it to the other twelve faction leaders.

  The schedule called for a late-morning meeting with the warlords, then lunch, then one-on-one meetings as necessary, an
d then a press conference. If we had positive news at the press conference, our operation would get a good psychological kickoff.

  AS WE waited for our guests, I walked around the compound to get a sense of the security requirements—and to give my legs a stretch. In the kitchen area to the rear of the compound, I had a chat with some of the cooks—my first direct contact with Somalis. Since many of them had worked at the U.S. Embassy before its evacuation, they spoke English. I learned later that older Somalis often spoke Italian, a legacy from the colonial period, so my own Italian background came in handy.

  As I was leaving, I noticed a baby goat tied to a tree. When I stopped to pet the kid, all the Somalis smiled brightly.

  “He’s a friendly little guy,” I said; and they nodded.

  Then they added: “He’s going to taste good at lunch.”

  ALI MAHDI’S convoy arrived first, accompanied by an armed escort we’d provided, as well as by his personal security. Since we were in south Mogadishu, Aideed’s turf, Ali Mahdi had demanded extra protection.

  Aideed’s compound was, in fact, directly across the dirt street from the USLO compound, but that did not speed up his arrival. Aideed had a well-tuned dramatic sense. He did not make haste to cross over to Oakley’s compound, but kept everyone waiting for his grand entrance.

  Ali Mahdi’s people emerged anxiously from their vehicles. Once they’d satisfied themselves we weren’t part of an Aideed trap, Ali Mahdi stepped nervously out of his vehicle and greeted us, sweating heavily. Inside, his conversation was fast and rambling; and prayer beads were in rapid motion in his hand.

  Aideed continued to keep us waiting. “Is he coming at all?” everyone wondered.