by Tom Clancy
Today, each Special Forces Group traces a spiritual lineage to one of the companies of the 1st Special Service Force, and they celebrate this lineage every December 5th, which is known as Menton Day, the date on which the original Brigade was stood down at the French village of Menton. It is from this tradition of close combat against superior odds that the fearsome combat reputation of the Special Forces would be born.
From General “Wild Bill” Donovan’s Office of Strategic Services, the Special Forces derived their more unusual roles and missions: reconnaissance, intelligence gathering, unconventional warfare, and humanitarian assistance. During World War II, the OSS conducted many valuable operations in all parts of the world. Examples abound. Here are a few: In Burma, they led tribesmen against the Japanese. In Vietnam, they supported a young nationalist (who we know as Ho Chi Minh). At the end of the war, they located German weapons scientists and brought them to the West. The OSS was, in short, a magnet for enthusiastic young men and women searching for high adventure. Many paid for their enthusiasm with their lives.
One of the more adventurous OSS exploits was to drop clandestine teams behind enemy lines to gather intelligence and support resistance groups:
Three-man Jedburgh Teams were dropped into France and Belgium, where they linked up with resistance forces and then helped train and equip the various partisan units. After the Allied landing in June 1944, they joined the partisans on raids behind the lines.
The OSS also formed what were known as Operational Groups (OGs), thirty-four-man teams that were the direct ancestors of all of today’s SF detachments. The OGs normally fought as split teams of fifteen to seventeen personnel, and were used for operations in Italy, France, Greece, Yugoslavia, and Norway. Like the Jedburghs, they not only conducted their own raids, but also worked to train and equip partisan and resistance units. And they are commemorated today by the signature OSS dagger on the shoulder patch of the Special Forces.
Though the OSS and the Devil’s Brigade made important contributions to the eventual Allied victory in World War II, neither survived into the postwar period. Nevertheless, their contributions would pave the way for the eventual creation of the Special Forces.
Aaron Bank: The Father of the Special Forces
CIA and SOF failures during and after the Korean War eventually pointed up the Special Operations gaps in American military capabilities. It was within these gaps that the Army Special Forces would eventually find their niche.
Even before the signing of the Korean armistice in 1953, it was clear that if the United States wanted to revive the Special Operations capabilities available during World War II, someone outside of the CIA would have to make it happen.
As luck would have it, a small band of OSS veterans within the U.S. Army believed in the value of guerrilla warfare in the Cold War world. Since it was obvious that major powers would never resort to nuclear weapons (unless they went mad), the OSS vets were convinced that other modes of warfare would have to be developed and perfected. They were looking specifically at ways of fighting “small wars.”
Led by Brigadier General Robert McClure, a former OSS operative, and a pair of talented colonels, Aaron Bank and Russell Volckmann, the group fought to find support for their concepts within the Army. The target of their thinking was Eastern Europe, where, in their view, guerrilla and unconventional warfare could provide a new weapon against the growing threat of communist aggression. In the event of a Soviet invasion of Western Europe, special units could be used as “stay behind” forces. Once the main Soviet effort had passed by, the teams of Special Operations units could conduct raids, gather intelligence, and generally harass the communist forces. Much like Colonel John S. Mosby’s rebel raiders during the American Civil War, they would make the Eastern European plains their “briar patch,” and draw off front-line forces to chase them down.49
Colonel Aaron Bank, USA. Colonel Bank is considered the founding father of the modem Special Forces, and commanded the 10th Special Forces Group.
OFFICIAL U.S. ARMY PHOTO
Though these ideas were clearly outside the realm of normal Army doctrine, the leadership saw merit in their madness. Since fighting a nuclear war to the death in Europe had obvious negatives, a clandestine Plan B made sense ... especially if things were to go bad for NATO. Moreover, the new force would be cheap to form and operate, and involved very little risk.
In early 1952, Colonel Bank went down to Fort Bragg, North Carolina (the long-standing center of quick reaction warfare, with the necessary personnel base and Airborne training equipment and facilities), with orders to form 2,300 men into the first of the unconventional warfare units. At Fort Bragg, Bank selected a site on what was called Smoke Bomb Hill to build what was called at that time, “a physiological/special center.“ Once the physical facilities were in place, Bank then set about the task of finding the men for his unit.
Predictably, many who were attracted to Bank’s unit had once been OSS operatives, longing for the adventure and comradeship that the regular Army had never provided them. Others were refugees from Eastern Europe, seeking a means to liberate their former homes from communist domination. (Many still had family members on the other side of the Iron Curtain; for them the East-West conflict was more than a political struggle.)50 All were volunteers. All had to be jump qualified in Airborne operations, with a heavy dose of infantry experience, and most spoke two or more languages. Most enlisted personnel were sergeants with years of service in the Army.
They all joined knowing full well that if they were captured behind enemy lines, they would likely be executed as spies. (I’ve talked with some of Colonel Bank’s early recruits. They could have cared less about that.) These were highly motivated and skilled personnel, thrilled at the chance to fight the Cold War on terms of their own choosing. For them, it was an irresistible challenge.
After months of recruiting, training, and organizing, Bank’s unit was stood up on June 19th, 1952. Designated the 10th Special Forces Group—Airborne, it was specifically designed to work in the European theater. Though the unit had only ten men (including Colonel Bank) when stood up, that number grew quickly in the months that followed into the 2,300 originally envisaged.
Their training covered a variety of skills, from radio and medical skills to language and parachute jump training. Their planned missions included intelligence gathering, deep-penetration raids, counterinsurgency operations, and a variety of other tasks, including especially the ability to operate and survive in enemy-controlled territory, perhaps for months or years.
In 1953, even before the training was completed, a series of labor-related riots in East Germany created enough concern about possible Soviet operations in Europe to send the 10th SFG into the field. But first the unit was split in two, with half being sent to Bad Tölz in West Germany (near Stuttgart). The remaining SF soldiers were reflagged as the 77th SFG, which remained Stateside for a few years, until ordered to send a series of small detachments to the Far East (in the face of the growing threat of the People’s Republic of China in that region).
In 1957 these detachments were designated as the 1st SFG (A), and their focus was on East Asia, since it was believed that this region required a similar capability to the one the 10th SFG gave to Europe.
Meanwhile, the Stateside 77th itself became a full group in 1960, when it was flagged as the 7th SFG (A), with a Latin American focus.
In less than a decade, the Special Forces had become a permanent part of the Army force structure, and were sending operational detachments into the field all over the world.
As for the man who started it all, Colonel Bank is still alive and living in the Los Angeles area. A few years ago, a new building (which incidentally contains the USASOC archives) was built as part of the Special Forces school. Senior leaders at USASOC make no secret that when Colonel Bank passes on, they will proudly flag the building with his name, so that the father of the Special Forces will be properly remembered by the new SF soldiers being tra
ined there.
The Green Beret
Berets have long been approved headgear for military units in countries like Britain and (of course) France, but not (until recently) in the United States. The ban on berets, however, did not stop the Special Forces from wearing them.
For a number of years before the headgear was officially approved by the Department of the Army, Special Forces soldiers had worn a green beret (designed by Major Herb Brucker, a World War II OSS veteran) during field and deployed operations. They liked the style and swagger it represented. It became a symbol of the Special Forces esprit and professionalism ... And the ban only made SF soldiers wear it more often around their home bases.
In 1961, the ban was lifted. And therein lies a tale.
John Kennedy—himself a man of style and swagger—came to the presidency with the goal of actively engaging communism ... of taking on the communists mano a mano, especially in what he characterized, “so-called wars of national liberation”—small wars of communist insurrection. (Crises in Berlin and Cuba swiftly put a cautious lid on his early swagger, but that’s another tale.)
It will come as no surprise that his chosen weapon in the “small wars” would be the newly created SFGs.
In 1961, the new president flew down to Fort Bragg to tour the 82nd Airborne Division and the other units of XVIII Airborne Corps. While there, he also paid a visit to the Special Forces soldiers. Having previously been briefed on their capabilities, he wanted to see them for himself. He also wanted to see them wearing green berets (which he had somehow heard about). The caps were the kind of thing he liked.
Seeing the way the wind was blowing, the Army did a very quick about-face, and before Kennedy arrived at Fort Bragg the beret had been authorized as an official uniform item for the Special Forces.
At Bragg, Kennedy gave the SF troops one of his signature speeches, complete with rousing promises that they would be on the front lines in upcoming battles with communism. Prophetic words!
Within months, a vast expansion of the Special Forces was ordered, and no less than four new SFGs were activated, effectively doubling the size of the Special Forces. The 5th SFG (A) was formed on September 21st, 1961, and was quickly committed as the primary SF unit in Southeast Asia (it would become a legendary force in Vietnam). The 3rd, 6th, and 8th SFGs followed in 1963.
So important was John Kennedy to the SF community that when he was assassinated in 1963, the SF training center was named after him—the JFK Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg.
But it was the young president’s love of the stylish SF headgear that had a more wide-ranging effect. Like John Kennedy, the American people took a shining to the good-looking green berets of the SF troops, so much so that the troops, by metonymy, came to be associated with their caps—they came to be called the “Green Berets.” The name spawned a blockbuster John Wayne movie and a 1960s hit song.
All of this did not actually sit well with SF soldiers. Though they are fiercely proud of their classic headgear, they cringe when you call them Green Berets.
“We’re not hats!” they insist.
Roger Donlon: The Ultimate Icon
To most of us who remember the Vietnam War at all, American involvement began sometime in the mid-1960s, with the Gulf of Tonkin Incident and the subsequent American intervention by Marines and air cavalry. But for the Special Forces, the war in Southeast Asia started much earlier. In fact, the first American soldier to die in Vietnam was killed on October 21st, 1956. He was Captain Harry G. Cramer, Jr., of the 14th Special Forces Operational Detachment (SFOD) of the 77th SFG, the first active-duty personnel America committed to the war in Vietnam.
Cramer’s name heads the list on the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial in the Mall in Washington.
Year after year, SF personnel remained in Vietnam and other Southeast Asian countries, teaching the skills critical for surviving the growing communist aggression. This advisory period continued until August 1964, when an attack in the Tonkin Gulf of a U.S. Navy destroyer led to the deployment of division-sized units from the Army and Marine Corps to Vietnam.
After the Tonkin Gulf attack, the SF mission to train ARVN units remained unchanged, but that became only one mission among many. Thus the entire 5th SFG (A) was moved to Vietnam, with its headquarters in Nha Trang. SF units were then sent out to provide eyes, ears, and security for the larger conventional units and, from a series of joint U.S./ARVN camps, to provide “tripwire” patrols, looking for North Vietnamese units filtering in from Laos and Cambodia. At these joint camps occurred some of the most vicious firefights of the war.
One of these attacks came on the night of July 6, 1964, when two full Viet Cong battalions tried to overrun a critical outpost near Nam Dong in the Central Highlands, which was defended by SF Detachment A-726 and a mixed force of ARVN, native, and Australian soldiers.
As the attack raged on, many of the camps’ defensive positions began to run short of ammunition. Though wounded numerous times from enemy grenades and mortar fire, Captain Roger Donlon led the defense, helped move ammunition from a burning building and carry it to forward positions, and then helped drag wounded comrades to the rear. Wounded himself several times, his actions continued until Donlon was sure the camp was safe and all his men had been taken care of.
The dawn brought relief: Donlon’s force still held Nam Dong; the surviving Viet Cong headed back into the countryside, and Roger Donlon’s heroism had caused him to earn the first Medal of Honor awarded in Vietnam.51
Donlon recovered from his wounds and quietly lives today in Kansas.
Colonel Roger Donlon’s gallantry was not unique. Over the next decade, 5th SFG personnel would win 17 Medals of Honor, 60 Distinguished Service Crosses, 814 Silver Stars, 13,234 Bronze Stars, 235 Legions of Merit, 46 Distinguished Flying Crosses, and 2,658 Purple Hearts. They were by far the most decorated unit of the Vietnam War.
Though SF guys are justifiably proud of all these honors, it was that first Medal of Honor that set the standard for SF performance in combat. And to this day, pictures of this quiet, modest man hang on many SF office and team room walls. I’m told that when the days get tough, many SF guys will swing their eyes up to a photo of Donlon, and instantly remember why they’re there.
Operation Kingpin: Bull Simons and the Son Tay Raid
Colonel Arthur “Bull” Simons, a veteran of World War II with the Rangers, became an SF soldier in the 1950s. By the time he arrived in Vietnam, he had a well-deserved reputation for leadership and toughness. Other men wanted to serve with him and follow him.
Simons’s first major exploit in Vietnam occurred during the 1960s, as part of what was known as Operation White Star. Simons took 107 SF soldiers into Laos, where they recruited thousands of Meo tribesmen and led them on raids and ambushes against the Pathet Lao forces. After six months in the bush, he brought every one of his 107 SF soldiers safely home, an achievement that only added to an already impressive list of accomplishments.
And then in 1970, a truly special opportunity presented itself.
Let me fill in some background:
At that time, most American POWs in North Vietnam were held in the infamous “Hanoi Hilton” (its actual name was Hoa Lo). Conditions there—simply—were inhuman. There was little food (the staples were pumpkin soup and tainted bread), little opportunity for exercise of body or mind, and worst of all, except for interrogations and beatings, prisoners were kept in virtually total isolation. POWs depend on socializing with other POWs to keep their spirits up. Without this contact you can forget about morale. It was hard to maintain much faith or hope under the Hanoi Hilton regime.
Early in 1970, an unmanned reconnaissance drone snapped pictures of a new North Vietnamese POW camp west of Hanoi, at a bend in the Red River. The camp, known as Son Tay, was an overflow facility for the Hanoi Hilton, which by then was bursting at the seams with captured Americans. When the pictures were analyzed, the photo-interpreters found messages from the POWs: The more than fifty prisoners
at Son Tay—not unsurprisingly—wanted to be rescued.52
Very soon, word went around Fort Bragg that Simons was looking for volunteers for a special mission. Before anyone knew its nature, more than five hundred SF soldiers had offered their services for it.
The mission, of course, was to rescue the Son Tay POWs.
It was called Operation Kingpin, and it was to be led by Simons. Operation Kingpin centered on a handpicked team of a hundred-plus volunteer SF soldiers, all SF veterans with experience in Southeast Asia.
In preparation for the mission, the volunteers went through months of specialized training at Eglin AFB in Florida; and by the time the raid was ready to go, they knew the Son Tay prison compound better than their own homes.53 To insert the team into the camp, the Air Force provided a task force of long-range helicopters. To maximize surprise, the lead helicopter, carrying a special assault team, would be intentionally crashed into the center of the camp compound (there’s more to this story, as we’ll see shortly). Cover for the raid would be provided by decoy Air Force and Navy air strikes on Hanoi and Haiphong (Kingpin was a true joint operation, long before that term became fashionable).
President Richard Nixon authorized the Son Tay raid early in November 1970. The personnel and aircraft were immediately moved into place, and the raid was launched on November 21, 1970.
The raid was executed to near perfection. The lead helicopter crashed into the compound right on time, the guards were quickly killed, and the team swarmed over the compound looking for the prisoners. Meanwhile, the helicopter carrying Bull Simons and his part of the raiding force mistakenly landed a few kilometers from the camp, near what intelligence analysts had called “a secondary school.” What they found was a barracks filled with several hundred enemy soldiers. The enemy put up a fight, and were all promptly killed.