The Secret Service agents explained to us that incidents like these were a big part of the reason that CID was being replaced. Jim Cawley warned Bird and me that we had better never let them happen on our watch.
We never did.
September 2003—BOOTS ON THE GROUND
We got word our new guys would be inbound on 4 September. I was anxious for the official handover to take place, for it to be just our team, but first we had to find a place for them to live. The existing and functional trailers behind the palace were full, and the new ones in the five-hundred-man camp under construction were not yet ready. Our guys would be coming with communications equipment, weapons, ammo, two explosive-detection dogs, etc. We needed space. Bird somehow commandeered an old ballroom, and we placed thirty-four cots in it. Not the greatest living conditions by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly different. There was a small bathroom—complete with gold-plated fixtures—which all thirty-four guys would have to share. Organizing the logistics of the buildup while the ambassador worked his eighteen- to twenty-hour days required full concentration. The CID guys did not help us at all.
Once the Blackwater team arrived there was supposed to be a ninety-six-hour grace period where the transition from CID to Blackwater would take place. The CID guys were to give us all the maps, grid coordinates, and advance surveys they had done. Unfortunately, the animosity had reached a level where little information sharing occurred. And Secretary of Defense (SecDef) Donald Rumsfeld was also coming to town. The team needed to hit the ground running. We had one day to train as a unit, and we were then handed the responsibility of protecting the most-threatened man in the world! Not the smoothest way to handle it. But we made it work.
Our first Blackwater-only Red Zone meeting was a trip to the house of Abdul Aziz al-Hakim, a theologian and politician who was a member of the U.S.-appointed Iraqi Governing Council (IGC). The Red Zone was considered any part of Iraq not completely protected and controlled by the U.S. or coalition forces. I asked the CID guys for the address and the grid coordinates so we could plan the mission. They told me they did not have the information. I went to the ambassador’s office and was told the ambassador had just been there a few weeks before and that CID had taken him there. Needless to say, once the staff of the ambassador got involved we suddenly had access to all the information we needed. It was childish and petty. This went on for weeks until we were eventually able to put together our own information database.
Setting up and running a protective security detail (PSD) team is more complicated than most people realize. From the outside people see a team around the protectee and think this is what is done. In reality there are many moving parts, and many decisions have been made prior to taking the protectee to the event. The guys around the protectee, known as the Detail, or Detail Team, are the face of the PSD, but behind the scenes, long before the protectee arrives at the venue, a world of planning and coordination has taken place.
And we were working with virtually unknown “raw material.” Bird and I had the unenviable task of taking thirty-four men who had zero experience in the Baghdad environment and placing them in positions to keep Ambassador Bremer and our own team members alive. And we had twenty-four hours to do it. A cursory examination of their résumés, brief conversations, and talks with a few of the new guys we had known previously helped make the decisions, but at this point everything, every day, was a work in progress.
The key element to any PSD team, and the most important part of every mission, is the work done by the advance team. The advance team has the single most dangerous job on the PSD team. They arrive at the event at least an hour before the protectee and must remain on-site until after the protectee departs. They establish the security bubble that must be in place prior to calling the AIC and telling him it is now safe for the team and the protectee to come to the event.
Our advance teams included the two dog handlers and their explosive detection dogs, two snipers (now referred to as “designated defensive marksmen” as the term sniper has been deemed too aggressive for protection work), and usually (if we were lucky enough to be fully manned) eight other advance team members placed at various strategic locations. Once the strategic locations were identified by the advance team leader, he would set up a series of concentric security rings designed to deter and thwart—as far away from the event as possible—any attempt on the protectee’s life. We wanted to make the bad guys work as hard as possible to get close to Ambassador Bremer. These rings of security included access control points where we could keep vehicles a safe distance from the event and not fear car or truck bombs exploding and collapsing the building. The access control points also ensured no one who was not authorized or permitted to be there got inside. The security rings became more and more restrictive as one got closer to the ambassador.
The advance team leader also had assigned to him a contingent of Army MPs. These men and women were armed with heavy weapons: M-240 7.62 machine guns, MH2B .50 caliber machine guns, and Mark 19 automatic 40 mm grenade launchers mounted on their armored Humvees. They provided a great visual and psychological deterrent to any bad guys who might not have been totally devoted to losing their lives in an attempted attack. These MPs were the major component of our limited Counter Assault Team (CAT) capabilities. Blackwater just did not have enough firepower or manpower to handle this task by itself. We had no automatic weapons or heavy weapons. These men and women did an outstanding job, and I have no doubt they were a major reason why we got home safely each day. They have my deepest respect and admiration.
The advance team leader placed these support assets wherever he felt they provided the best protection to ensure the safety of Ambassador Bremer. They were usually placed at the farthest access control areas, and then in strategic locations closer to where the event would take place. The advance team leader was in constant communication with these folks as he monitored the situation at each venue.
The sniper teams would be placed at the highest elevated positions available to the team so they could be used as advance spotters and warn the team if they saw trouble approaching. They also had to have the ability to take and make a kill shot out to hundreds of meters. Again, the advance team leader was in constant communication with these men. Many times these men would be placed on buildings across the street from an event or down the block from the event. They had no additional support. They worked alone on unsecured rooftops, endured the heat and the dust, and watched our backs. Truly a daunting task. These guys had balls made of brass.
The explosive-detecting dog team (dog and handler) had to walk and inspect the entire route the protectee would walk, and do a check on all vehicles parked in the vicinity of where the ambassador would be. In the heat the dogs could work about thirty minutes before they became exhausted and lost focus. The handlers had to be completely in tune with the dogs and recognize when they needed to get into an air-conditioned vehicle or inside a cool building. A mistake could be fatal.
The Iraqis were not happy about us having dogs. Dogs are considered filthy animals by many Muslims, and our dog handlers were constantly on the lookout for both hostile stray dogs that could cause grave damage to our bomb detectors and passive-aggressive Iraqis who would talk shit to the dogs instead of the handlers. I’m pretty sure the dogs didn’t understand the Iraqis but they barked like hell and pulled on their leash as if to tear the throats out of the offending shit-talkers, which was hilarious to watch. It also reinforced the Iraqis’ fears and increased our intimidation factor. In reality the dogs were so disciplined that they didn’t do anything—including barking and gnashing teeth at the Iraqis—without a whispered command from the handler. The handlers just made it look like the dogs were out of control so people watching would think twice about getting too close. Once again, the advance team leader had to be in constant communication with these guys.
The advance team leader had a great deal of responsibilit
y for the success of every mission—mission meaning every time we took the protectee out in public. It was not a job for the weak of heart. He had to make all the decisions and do all the coordination mentioned earlier, and had to make the decision to cancel the visit if he felt the security at the venue was not capable of keeping the protectee safe.
As AIC, I had to take all these actions into account and make sure the person I chose for this most important position could quickly evaluate and spot potential weaknesses at each and every venue. From my perspective the best candidates were guys I’d refer to as America’s Professional Terrorists. I wanted to use, and tried to use whenever possible, guys who had served at the highest levels of U.S. military Special Operations. I wanted guys who had planned and executed raids to capture or kill people who were not anxious to see our toughest guys arrive at their homes or office. These men have examined target folders, mission briefs with the intelligence and information required to prepare and execute Special Ops. They have analyzed settings and setups searching for exploitable weaknesses. By actually planning and executing these offensive missions, they knew better what it would take to play defense. They knew how to make it more difficult for the bad guys to plan attacks against their protectee. My term for this is reverse engineering. How would I take this building, kill this person, kidnap that person? Then, what would make it much harder or impossible for me to do this? They reverse engineer, identify all factors that hopefully would make it impossible for bad guys to do bad things, and then put these factors into play. This was the mission for the advance team leader each and every time he went out.
After selecting the advance team leader, the next tough decision was to choose the drivers. Everybody thinks driving is easy. This is the furthest thing from the truth. A recent study done by an intelligence community think tank showed that nearly 85 percent of all attacks take place in or near vehicles. This finding dovetails with numerous other studies conducted over the last two decades by both government and private sector entities. No matter how broad or narrow the criteria used to define “an attack,” the overwhelming majority occurred while the target or victim was in or around their vehicle. So it’s certainly no surprise or coincidence that all the attacks that we came under during our time in Baghdad occurred during motorcade operations. Pretty sobering.
Standard operating procedure (SOP) for the bad guys is as follows: primary target is the VIP; secondary target is the limousine driver. The mind-set is: Stop the driver, stop the motorcade. Keep the target in the kill zone until he is dead. The drivers cannot allow this to happen. A man can be the best shooter on the team, but those skills are only called on when we are under attack. The drivers have to show their skills every day. Each time we went out they had to be on their game. We couldn’t afford for them to have a bad day. If they did, a team member might die. Or the VIP. The drivers have to be able to anticipate what’s going to happen BEFORE it happens. They must see everything. Given the critical role the drivers play in keeping the principal alive, I would have preferred to have drivers who were trained to one common standard and through one training provider. In a perfect world we would have run all our drivers through one of Tony Scotti’s Vehicle Dynamics Institute’s (VDI) High-Risk-Environment Driving or Mission-Oriented Driving Skills (MODS) courses. VDI has a well-earned reputation for turning out some of the best drivers in the world and is the only training provider I am aware of that has the capability to objectively and scientifically evaluate a driver’s capability to survive an ambush. Unfortunately, with roughly only twenty-four hours to begin protective operations with the ambassador, and with Joe Autera (VDI’s lead instructor) halfway around the world, we did not have the time or the means to run a driving course or to thoroughly evaluate driving skills. Instead we asked for volunteers who had been through a high-level driving course or had previous high-level driving experiences. The volunteers were then evaluated each day.
The detail team is the last line of defense for the protectee. When all outer rings of security have been breached and the protectee is actually under fire or attack, the detail team must become the Praetorian Guards and be prepared to stand and fight and die. Coming from a Marine Corps background, I wanted guys who had some type of military infantry experience. Marine grunts, Army Rangers, guys from the 82nd Airborne Division, or street cops from tough cities who very often had to rely on their instincts to survive—these are the guys accustomed to following orders without question and without blinking, guys who would stand and fight and give their lives if necessary. I needed men who could see problems happening and respond appropriately—and not necessarily with violence. The detail team members were always close to the protectee and thus were often in the newspapers or on TV. They became famous back home because people saw them standing next to the man. They were the rock stars of the PSD team.
The shift leader of the detail team had the responsibility for all tactical decisions during a mission. He was my eyes and ears. He watched the formations and gave direction to the team while my sole focus as AIC was the protectee. I rode in the front-right seat of the “limo” and basically remained mute while a mission was under way. I monitored all the radio traffic and chimed in if I felt it was necessary, but usually I did not want Ambassador Bremer to hear us talking about potential dangers. Our job was to allow him to do his job without even thinking about what we are doing.
As AIC I was ultimately responsible for all aspects of the protection operation and made all the final decisions. I was also the only one to ever communicate directly with the protectee. My job on a mission was to be no farther than one arm’s length from the VIP, and to be ready to use my body as a shield between him and any potential attackers. As AIC I liaised with the ambassador’s staff and made sure that all coordination was done between the various groups involved. I kept on top of the schedule at all times and directly received intel reports from all sources. A failure in any aspect of the PSD team’s operation rested, ultimately, on my shoulders. I knew, if our team was good, I would get the credit. Likewise, if something went wrong, I would be accountable.
One of the toughest parts of being the AIC was honestly evaluating team members. I had to make sure that round pegs were plugged into round holes, and square pegs into square holes. No one can be expected to do a job he is incapable of doing. A leader’s most important task is to make sure he never puts a person in a position to fail. Different backgrounds and personalities mean each person has specific strengths and weaknesses, and thus each is capable or incapable of performing certain duties. In a combat zone each job has responsibilities that must always be performed correctly. A mistake could be fatal. Placing the right people in these jobs was initially a huge headache as nobody knew exactly what we were going to need to do. Friendship, family, prior relationships, etc., could not influence the decision-making process. Either someone could do the job or he couldn’t. Needless to say I managed to hurt the feelings of more than a few guys when I made the decision that they were not good enough for certain positions. In the end the guys I thought were best suited for each position were placed in those positions.
For the ambassador’s Red Zone missions we ran a three-car motorcade consisting of a lead car, the limo, and a follow car. The lead car had the tactical commander (TC) in the right-front seat, a driver, and two shooters (detail members) sitting in the rear seats. In the rear of the vehicle we had an additional man referred to as the well-agent. Whenever possible I wanted the well-agent to be a medic.
While the motorcade was moving the TC was responsible for communicating with all our support assets (helicopters, MP CAT teams, etc.). He monitored oncoming and merging traffic, and relayed this info to the shift leader. All his senses were tuned to search for potential threats and ambushes. He called out threats, and if traffic was bad, he ordered the switch to one of the alternate, preplanned routes. The team adjusted its movements to his premonitions.
The protectee and any VIPs accompanying h
im rode in the limo with the driver and me (AIC). The follow car had the shift leader sitting in the right-front seat, a driver, two shooters in the rear seats, and usually another medic (well-agent) in the third seat. It was important to have this second medic in the follow car. If the limo was attacked, plans called for the lead car to engage the enemy while we transferred the ambassador to the follow car. If he was injured, we had to be able to treat his wounds as quickly as possible.
We also had another contingent of Army MPs assigned to act as our CAT team element during any movements that we made with the ambassador. Again, my hat is off to these folks.
Attached to our team were two guys (later trimmed down to one) who would handle all the operations support and logistics management taking place in the background for all team members. They coordinated the ID cards, found bed space, checked on trailer accommodations, issued and tracked guns and gear, wrangled with the all-too-regular updates to the ambassador’s schedule, and kept me in the loop on any and all changes. As it turns out, with the contract business’s reverse pyramid model of tooth-to-tail support, these guys ended up as seat-of-the-pants jacks-of-all-trades. They found themselves doing all the behind-the-scenes support functions a military organization typically has large groups of people around to handle: supply, administration, travel, payroll, logistics, weapons repair, communications watch. They were savvy and resourceful and could buy, beg, borrow, or trade for the necessities to support a thirty-six-man team in a war zone—any and all the things the team couldn’t do for themselves while they were on the road keeping the ambassador safe. They scrounged office space, computers, telephone and computer hookups, office furniture, computers, beds, bullets, batteries, maps, and even got the chow hall to make sure the team was fed after the kitchen closed during late nights. They had their hands full and literally made it up on their own as they went, as I was always with the ambassador or attending a meeting someplace else.
The Bremer Detail Page 4