The Dichotomy of Leadership: Balancing the Challenges of Extreme Ownership to Lead and Win

by Jocko Willink

  “Great to meet you guys,” the 1/109th platoon commander said. He was a professional Soldier, as were his noncommissioned officers and troops manning the COP. “Thanks for all the support you’ve been giving us. We’ve really had some good impact around here. A month ago, we would have been attacked just trying to get to this spot. Now we live here!”

  “Outstanding. You guys have done great work,” I said. “I’m glad we were able to support you.”

  With that, the platoon commander talked over the map with us, pointing out danger areas, describing the enemy’s tactics particular to the area, and outlining a fire support plan should we need help. Leif and I followed up with some pointed questions about the routes in and out of the target village and then sat down and listened.

  Our overwatch element in the target area continued to pass traffic, with no significant change. The area had settled down and there was no remarkable activity in the village.

  Inside the COP, we listened to the battalion radio net, the channel that every platoon and every company in the 1/109th battalion monitored. In such a hot area, there was always something happening and radio kept us up-to-date—reports of enemy movement, friendly units maneuvering to contact, U.S. troops wounded and sometimes killed. It was a strange experience to hear the muffled gunfire off in the distance and then hear the radio calls of the men on the ground, in that distant firefight, engulfed in adrenaline, making decisions, passing information, requesting support. Some leaders stayed calm even in bad situations. With others you could hear the panic in their voices. Listening to hundreds of radio calls like this taught me and the rest of the Task Unit Bruiser leadership that staying calm on the radio was a mandatory trait if you wanted to lead effectively.

  Then, in the midst of some of the normal radio traffic, we heard a strange radio call from the 1/109th battalion TOC back in Ramadi. It seemed there was another coalition unit that had not deconflicted and was purportedly conducting an operation in the direct vicinity of the Task Unit Bruiser operation. It was not normal for a unit to be out without intensive coordination. But there was even more puzzling information: the report on the radio said the unit “could possibly be dressed in indigenous clothing.”

  This quickly went from strange to dangerous. Under normal circumstances in this hostile battlespace with multiple U.S. and Iraqi units, which clearly stood out as friendly in their combat gear and weaponry, the hazards from a potential “blue-on-blue” or friendly fire situation were quite high without extensive deconfliction. But for coalition troops to conduct an operation without identifiable uniforms, when there were U.S. troops in the area who might mistake them for enemy fighters, was completely insane. Identifying friend from foe was already hard enough, given the fact that the Iraqi Army dressed in mismatched uniforms, sometimes throwing in elements of civilian clothing. The insurgents sometimes wore a mix of paramilitary gear, mismatched uniforms, and their favorite clothing—tracksuits with a balaclava or kaffiyeh covering their faces. During my first deployment to Iraq, my platoon had always worn black balaclavas, not only to protect our identities but also because they had a psychologically intimidating effect on the enemy. But in Ramadi, no one in Task Unit Bruiser wore balaclavas or anything that covered their faces. A covered face meant terrorist, and no one wanted to be mistaken for a terrorist in this environment. It could result in an American bullet to the head.

  Among all this radio traffic, a call came from the overwatch element. “We’ve got movement,” the radioman from the overwatch whispered.

  Leif, his AOIC, and I stood up and moved closer to listen to the radio.

  “Four to six military-age males, moving tactically,” the radioman described.

  “Do you have PID?” I asked. This was a difficult question. PID meant “positive identification”—I was asking if the element could identify if the people they were seeing were friendly or hostile.

  “Stand by,” the radioman passed. In the SEAL Teams, “stand by” has many meanings, based on how it is used and the tone of the voice. It can mean “Wait a second.” Or it can mean “Don’t move.” It can mean “Don’t push me any further.” It can also mean “I don’t know, let me find out.” Additionally, it can mean “Brace for impact, something bad is about to happen.”

  The tone in the radioman’s voice was a combination of “I don’t know, let me find out” and “Brace for impact, something bad is about to happen.”

  Leif and I looked at each other. I nodded to Leif, and he knew what I was thinking. Then he nodded to his AOIC and they grabbed their helmets, hustled outside, and assembled the troops, telling them to gear up and load the vehicles.

  I then passed a statement that the overwatch commander didn’t expect: “Do not engage unless you confirm an actual hostile act. There could be friendlies in the area.”

  “What?” the overwatch element leader questioned. This was highly unusual.

  “There could be friendlies in the area that have not coordinated with us. And they might be dressed in indigenous clothing,” I told him.

  “Seriously?” the overwatch element leader responded, his frustration coming through even clearer than his radio signal.

  “Seriously. Pass the word,” I replied solemnly.

  This was a very bad situation. Combat is by nature confusing. It is impossible to know and understand the dynamics of everything that happens on the battlefield. This is classically known as “the fog of war.”1 The fog is real. Differing reports, differing opinions, differing perceptions, time lags to receive and process information, weather conditions, darkness, terrain, enemy feints and maneuvers, friendly forces moving and reacting—the chaos and uncertainty add up and paint a picture that is foggy at best. When I ran the training for the West Coast SEAL Teams, one of the lessons I regularly taught was that the most important piece of information you could have on the battlefield is the knowledge of where you are. Without that, nothing else matters. The next most important piece of information is where other friendly forces are located. Only then does it matter where the enemy is; without knowing where one’s own unit is and without knowing where other friendly units are, it is nearly impossible to engage the enemy.

  In the scenario unfolding, although the overwatch knew exactly where they were, where the assault force was, and where other 1/109th Infantry units were located, they weren’t sure now if there were other friendly units in the area—nor in this case would they be able to positively identify them. It wasn’t good.

  Tense minutes passed. The assault force had loaded into the vehicles and stood by waiting for the word. Then, without any other prior warning, gunfire erupted from the area of the overwatch. Tracers cut through the sky.

  I did not know what was happening. I wasn’t sure who was shooting at whom. I asked for a status from the radioman on the overwatch team. Nothing.

  Was the overwatch engaging insurgents? Could there be a shootout between insurgents and the local townspeople? Was the overwatch team compromised and under attack? Was the “indigenously dressed” coalition unit there? Was this a blue-on-blue fratricide happening? I simply could not know. The only thing I knew was what we had planned and rehearsed during the mission planning: if the overwatch got compromised, the assault force would roll in “hard,” meaning we would drive vehicles right into the target area (normally they would stop several hundred meters away and the assault force would foot patrol in) and “lock down,” or set security on the main road that ran through the village. I also knew that if there were insurgents in the village and we gave them too much time, they would either coordinate their defenses and prepare to fight, or run away—neither of which would be good for the assault force. So despite the uncertainty of the situation, I went with the default mode: I got aggressive.

  I ran out to the vehicles, loaded with SEALs and ready to roll, jumped into the command vehicle, keyed the mic on my radio, and said, “Execute, execute, execute. We are rolling to Route Duster [the main road in the village] and locking it down.”

/>   The lead navigator gave his command on the radio: “Rolling.”

  The vehicles shifted into gear and started out rapidly down the road toward the village, toward the gunfire, toward the uncertainty.

  As the assault force rolled in, the shooting continued but tapered off as our vehicles approached. Although there was a lot of uncertainty in the situation, there were some things that were very well known. The assault force knew where the overwatch was; Leif and his AOIC had gone over that info with everyone. We had also told them that there were possible friendlies in the area—which made everyone nervous and extremely cautious about shooting.

  After a few short minutes, the assault force arrived on the road in the middle of the village, came to a halt, and set security. The overwatch had stopped shooting but was positively marking their position so we knew where they were.

  “Overwatch: What do you got?” I asked on the radio.

  “We had PID on armed military-age males by the river, maneuvering to attack. We engaged,” the element leader responded.

  “Any enemy movement in the village?” I asked.

  “Negative,” he answered.

  “Roger. Commence assault,” I said, staying in our default: aggressive mode. With that, the assault force dismounted, set a cordon on the village, and began a systematic clearance building by building and then through Mav Market, stall by stall. Although the enemy had clearly been alerted, they had not had time to react. As the assault force cleared the village and the marketplace, they found and detained a number of suspected insurgents, who were still dazed from sleep when they were captured. We also discovered a cache of enemy weapons that we destroyed. Despite the confusion and uncertainty during the operation, decisiveness and aggressive action won.

  * * *

  We expected our SEALs to operate with an aggressive mind-set. We expected them to lean forward, maneuver quickly, see opportunities, and capitalize upon them—to aggressively execute to solve problems, overcome obstacles, accomplish the mission, and win.

  But of course there is a dichotomy with being aggressive that must be balanced: aggression is not always the answer. Aggression must be balanced with logic and detailed analysis of risk versus reward.

  In Ramadi, Task Unit Bruiser was honored to support the fifty-six hundred U.S. troops—Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, and Airmen—of the U.S. Army’s Ready First Brigade Combat Team of the 1st Armored Division in their efforts to implement the Seize, Clear, Hold, Build strategy and take back the city of Ramadi from insurgents. We formed an exceptional working relationship with the Army and Marine leaders and the men in the platoons, companies, and battalions they commanded. Our relationships were based on trust and mutual respect. The Ready First Brigade commander, a U.S. Army colonel, was an extraordinary leader—aggressive, smart, and with amazing strategic vision. He was a true professional and one of the finest leaders with whom I had the honor to serve. When the brigade commander asked for support, Task Unit Bruiser delivered. We were proud to send in our SEALs and Iraqi soldiers as the lead element of troops on the ground for almost every major combat operation of the Seize, Clear, Hold, Build strategy to emplace U.S. combat outposts in the most dangerous, volatile neighborhoods of the city.

  Several months into the deployment, at one of the brigade operation meetings on Camp Ramadi I attended, the brigade commander asked me if our SEALs could help eliminate the threat of enemy mortar teams in an area north of the city called “C-Lake.” The name derived from the area’s primary feature, an oxbow lake, formed from the Euphrates River, that was shaped like a “C.” It was a relatively rural area that covered about ten square miles with open fields along the river, scattered clusters of houses, and small, unpaved country roads.

  But it was also an area utilized by insurgents to launch mortar attacks on U.S. positions. Almost every day, insurgents lobbed mortars at U.S. troops stationed on Camp Ramadi and other nearby bases. Mortars hit our camp on Sharkbase as well, though less frequently. American radar technology could track the mortars’ trajectory and deduce the point of origin from where they were launched. Many of the mortars that hit Camp Ramadi came from the C-Lake area. Unfortunately, the enemy understood that we could identify the point of origin of their mortars, so they had modified their tactics. Instead of firing the mortars from one specific location, they constantly moved around the entire area. Furthermore, when the insurgents fired mortars, they rapidly fired only one, two, or three rounds at a time in a matter of seconds, then quickly packed up the mortar tube and disappeared. It was an effective tactic that was difficult to counter.

  On top of the mortar attacks, the insurgents were active throughout the C-Lake area emplacing large IEDs in the roads. There were limited roads in the area, which channelized access for U.S. convoys into a small number of routes that insurgents could target. With the open terrain around the roads, enemy fighters could observe U.S. Humvees from long distances and detonate the roadside bombs via radio control from unseen locations hundreds of meters away. The IEDs in C-Lake had taken a deadly toll in recent weeks, with multiple Humvees destroyed and several U.S. Army Soldiers killed.

  Since Task Unit Bruiser had been successful in eliminating enemy mortar teams and IED emplacers2 in other areas of Ramadi, it seemed logical we could help in C-Lake. When the brigade commander asked if we could help out in the area, I told him I would take a look and determine how we could best support the mission. I certainly wanted to help the Ready First Brigade handle the situation, eliminate threats, and ensure more U.S. troops went home to their families. We also wanted to kill enemy fighters responsible for the attacks and make them pay for the deaths of our brother Soldiers who had been killed in the IED attacks. I brought back the request to Leif and Charlie Platoon, and we talked through it. Leif, his platoon chief, Tony, and the rest of Charlie Platoon were always eager to close with and destroy the enemy. So they started analyzing the intelligence, looking at maps of the area, and talking with the Soldiers who had operated around C-Lake. They examined, with the rest of Charlie Platoon and the Task Unit Bruiser intelligence department, the best possible courses of action to accomplish the mission.

  Over the next several days, Charlie Platoon launched on other operations in different areas of the city. But upon their return to base, they resumed mission planning for the C-Lake operation. Then, after several days of careful analysis, Leif came to my office to discuss the results of their analysis.

  “I don’t know about this one, Jocko,” he said with a somewhat disappointed look on his face.

  “What don’t you know?” I asked him.

  “The C-Lake operation is a tough one,” he replied. “I’m not sure it makes sense.”

  “Okay. Talk me through it,” I said.

  At this point Leif and I walked over to a detailed map of C-Lake hanging on the wall. First, we marked the known points of origin from where all the mortar attacks had been launched. No two mortar attacks had come from the same location. Second, there was no discernible pattern to the locations. Finally, there weren’t any common traits in the terrain from which the mortars had been fired—some had been fired from roads, some from fields, some from the vicinity of houses or buildings, some in the open, some in areas with foliage for camouflage, some in areas with no camouflage at all. There was no pattern whatsoever that would enable us to position our sniper teams in the right location to observe and engage the enemy mortar teams.

  Next, Leif pointed out where the IED strikes had taken place. Because the area was bordered by the Euphrates River and crisscrossed with canals, the means to reach the area by vehicle was limited, with only one major road as our access in and out of the area. With the wide-open and sparse terrain, there were no good vantage points from which we could set up our sniper overwatch positions that would allow us a long access look down the main road to observe and engage IED emplacers. To do that, we would have to expose ourselves out in the open, giving away our position and opening us up for enemy attack. When we were attacked, if we
needed help, the only route that U.S. vehicles could utilize to get to us was this main road, where the threat of IED attack was extremely high. It would put the U.S. Army units responding to help us at serious risk—in fact, the Quick Reaction Force might not be able to get to us at all. Of course, the same IEDs would also put our SEALs and Iraqi soldiers riding in the vehicles on the transit in and out of the area at serious risk as well.

  “The bottom line is this,” Leif concluded. “Any counter-mortar and counter-IED operations in the area of C-Lake will have a very low probability of success. But the threat to our SEALs and Iraqi soldiers conducting the operation and the U.S. Army troops supporting us will be extremely high.”

  It was clear Leif, Tony, and the rest of his Charlie Platoon leaders had done their homework on this. I certainly knew they weren’t risk averse, as they had proven time and again in the months we’d been in Ramadi. I knew they were eager to put as many enemy insurgent fighters in the dirt as they possibly could, in order to protect brave American Soldiers and Marines from deadly enemy attacks. But I understood from their analysis that there was absolutely no way to predict where an attack would come from, which meant we would be setting up an overwatch in a completely random position—basically searching for a needle in a haystack. Even if we knew where to set up, with so few areas to provide good cover and concealment, the enemy wouldn’t have a hard time finding us. Finally, with no ability to overwatch the full length of the main road, we wouldn’t even be able to fully prevent IEDs from being planted.

  “With all that stacked against us,” Leif continued, “and as much as we’d love to support the brigade commander’s request, I’m just not sure this makes sense. The risk isn’t worth the reward.”

  He was right. As much as we wanted to execute the operation, take the fight to the enemy, and kill the enemy mortar and IED teams in C-Lake, the operation didn’t make sense.