Every Man a Tiger (1999)

by Tom - Nf - Commanders Clancy

  We also talk about conversations I might have had with Schwarzkopf the previous night.

  Finally, if Khaled has any complaints, he brings them up and I make notes for Don Kaufman (sometimes Don accompanies me and makes the notes); we will take action on everything, no matter how small. We intend to be good guests, especially since the Saudis are bending over backward to be good hosts. Our meeting may last an hour.

  1100 I take the elevator to the first floor on my way to the underground bunker. On my way, I pass the mosque. If I do this during prayer time, the mosque will be full of military personnel, their shoes lining the hall and spilling out into the atrium. I walk quietly behind the prostrate worshipers and watch the imam on the stage leading them in prayer. On Friday he will give a sermon; and at all times the prayers and the Friday sermon are piped throughout the building, so those who cannot leave their workplace can still pray. Only the guards around the various guard posts are not prostrate.

  A separate elevator takes me down six stories into an underground two-story bunker. On the lowest floor, CENTCOM people are busy stringing comm wires, putting up maps and information boards on the walls, and working on plans. Grant Sharp already has set up an office and is working on a conference room for Schwarzkopf.

  Often I’ ll climb the stairs up to the floor above and stop by Yousef Madinee’s office to discuss command and control. Madinee is a Saudi Army two-star (and well thought of because of his heroic service during a previous crisis when Egypt’s Nasser involved his Army in a nasty revolution in Yemen). Since I must leave the door open for Schwarzkopf to do what he wants when he arrives later in the month, it is hard for me to come to any real agreements with Madinee. This is frustrating for both of us, but we make progress simply because we are discussing command relationships.

  After a while, I go back up to the USMTM suite.

  1145 I catch up on messages that have come while I was out, and I may have a visitor.

  A French delegation, for example, comes to call on the Saudi leadership. They stop first with, say, Prince Sultan. Sultan doesn’t see them but passes them to a deputy. Then they do see General Hamad, who listens to them closely and then dismisses them with warm handshakes and no information or decisions. Now frustrated, they stop by to see the American in charge, both as a courtesy call and because they are scared that they cannot get their forces into this war, and if they do they will come under U.S. command and control, which they don’t want. (Eventually it works out that French forces do come into the war, and under American command and control—but with allowances for French fears.) There is lots of cagey diplomatic talk, as they probe for concessions and try not to offer anything in return. As I listen, I resist the urge to stick in the needle about their NATO participation. That is, if they had been better allies in NATO, then we would not be having these “getting to know you” sessions in Riyadh. I play good guy without committing to anything but a warm welcome and assurances that their national sovereignty will be respected, and as a sovereign nation they will be equal partners. . . . Of course, after the war they will want to be superior partners when it comes to selling military equipment to the Arab nations (to include Iraq).

  This all takes twenty to forty-five minutes, after which we part amicably. But by then they’ll know that even though they would have preferred to come in as the big brother to the Saudis, they will have to work with the Americans if they want in the game. It is hard to be the big brother when the three-hundred-pound Yankee is around and you weigh 120 pounds.

  Time for lunch.

  1230 Grr and I jump in the car and head back to the USMTM compound to eat at the club. Before the crisis, it used to serve maybe thirty people at lunchtime and had a good menu at reasonable prices, hamburger and fries with a diet Coke being a good choice. Now it serves two thousand people with a buffet [chow] line set up in the entrance, and you eat chili or spaghetti or beef stew off a paper plate and get a paper cup of Kool-Aid. There are not enough tables, and I’ve made sure there are no longer reserved tables for the general officers, as was the case before the crisis. All are equal and first come first serve, so you either stand holding your food until someone leaves, or you find a place to sit on the floor or in the small movie theater where the USMTM families used to go for entertainment. People are considerate and eat fast, and they give up their seats ASAP.

  Troops I run into at lunch ask me what is going on, and I pretend to know and give them the best update I can.

  1300 I go to my apartment, take the elevator up to the fifth floor, and lie down for a twenty-minute power nap. After I wake up, I change into my flight suit from desert fatigues. Grr is waiting downstairs. We head out to Riyadh Air Base five blocks to the north along Airport Boulevard to go flying.

  1345 We arrive at the jets, two F-16s parked together with the RSAF PC-9 trainer aircraft on the east ramp, about seven hundred yards from where our AWACS are parked. The jets are from Al Dhafra in the UAE; the crews come up to work a duty shift of a week in the TACC, and the pilots they replace will take the jets home after Grr and I get our flight in.

  1400 Grr and I take off for Dhahran AB in the eastern province. We check in with AWACS (the normal thing to do), and they provide air traffic control services for us. Though we may fly a low-level navigation mission, we’ll probably do Dissimilar Air Combat Tactics against F-15Cs. The mission will have been planned by Grr while I was at work that morning. After about an hour in the air, we land at Dhahran. We taxi up to the ramp where the 1st Wing has their jets parked, where we are met by Colonel John McBroom, the wing commander, who may have been in the flight we fought coming in.

  1515 After a short debriefing on the training flight, I get in a car with Boomer McBroom to go visit the troops.

  First we’ll meet with the maintenance troops. We’ll listen to their needs and answer their questions. Most of the time, these are about when are we going to go after “ him” (Saddam). Morale is always high, and while working conditions are tough, they keep the jets in commission at very high rates. What the hell, they don’t have anything else to do. It’s amazing how much time families, drinking, and sex take from our day. When you are without, you are much more productive and do not get into nearly as much trouble. Yet all of this, too, has its limits.

  1600 We have been out to the weapons-storage area, and then we visit the school where the USAF reserve nurses are being housed. This last includes walking through sleeping areas where several nurses are in various stages of undress. They seem unconcerned about that, but I am embarrassed; and I talk to them with averted eyes, wishing I had guts enough to glance at their bra-clad chests. It’s the shits when you have to be on public display and on your best behavior. Afterward, we stop by the mail room, since it is a hot spot, and I make sure they have all they need to move the huge amounts of mail out to the troops in a timely manner. Next, we stop by an RSAF Tornado squadron to meet with Brigadier General Turki, the base commander, and his wing commander, Brigadier General Mansour. We talk about their preparations for war and the ongoing Combat Air Patrols we are flying together in the air defense of the Kingdom role. After that, we pass through the integrated USAF and RSAF engine shop to see how our two maintenance forces are integrating and working together. Saudi NCOs and our men and women are working side by side there, but it seems to be working out. . . . Even though some of our women are visibly female under their T-shirts, this seems to have pretty much the same effects on all the males, whether Islamic or south Georgian.

  We will end up at one of the USAF squadrons and talk to Intel, pilots, etc., and answer questions, perhaps in a short pilots’ meeting. The pilots are worried about screwing up in combat and tired of flying from midnight till dawn in the “CAP FROM HELL” (so called because you do it late at night, you are tired and bored, but you have to stay alert).

  1700 Grr and I climb in our jets. I lead this time, and we fly along the Iraqi border to check out the ground forces that have moved in and to check in with any of the attached Tactica
l Air Control parties that may be in place. Grr coordinated with these while I was touring with Boomer. Lead elements of the 82d Airborne are north of Dhahran, and we do some dry CAS with their Battalion ALO; but there is not much else in the desert. By the time we land at Riyadh and the crews going back to the UAE take the jets from us, it is starting to get dark. I am tired from flying and fall asleep in the car as we drive back to MODA.

  1900 In MODA, I read stacks of messages and make the usual notes on the margins. Don Kaufman has a list of things that have come up, and we run through them. I call Schwarzkopf to give him an update and listen as he anguishes about the problems he is facing getting combat power over ahead of headquarters (since headquarters doesn’t fight the enemy). John Yeosock is also in the suite after an afternoon of visiting with arriving units (he gets around in a C-12 light aircraft or a helicopter); and we compare notes about what we will do if the Iraqis attack that night. As we talk, we eat some french fries and swarmas, which are Saudi sandwiches—pita bread with grilled slices of lamb and mayonnaise.

  Later, I may have a visitor from one of the arriving coalition forces, and we chat about their plans—e.g.: what forces they are bringing, where they would like to beddown, what support they might need, and the command-and-control lash-up. I put them at ease about the logistics concerns and promise to help with any special needs. For example, the airmen all want to know how their squadrons will receive the Air Tasking Order, and I explain that we will either have them collocate with a CAFMS37-equipped U.S. squadron or I will get them a CAFMS terminal of their own. If the visitor is a high-ranking officer (which might be a major, if that is high ranking for that air force/ army/navy), then I will invite him to the evening meeting.

  2100 John, Don, and I go downstairs to the MODA bunker for the evening meeting with our Saudi counterparts. General Hamad and I will cochair the meeting, but Khaled will also be important. That is to say, if anything is to be decided afterward, it will be done in private with Khaled. John and his counterpart, Yousef Rashid, Tom Olsen and Behery, Grant Sharp and Admiral Talil will all sit with one another. I am always diffident at this meeting, because I am simply filling in for Schwarzkopf and do not want to make any waves. Still, we need some structure for working together and addressing any problems that come up. We do not spend a lot of time working strategy, as I am not sure the American ground forces want to fight in an integrated manner with their Saudi counterparts, and besides, they are just getting unloaded from the ships and planes and don’t know how to find the bathrooms yet. All the same, we must have some interaction. (The air forces, we quickly find, are already well integrated after years of training together and because of our AWACS operations during the Iran-Iraq War.)

  The meeting will start off with an intelligence update: One night the United States will supply the briefers, the next night the Saudis will brief. After about twenty minutes of briefing, other briefers describe ongoing operations—who is flying what CAPs where, the status of forces in terms of buildup, and where they are deploying in the desert. Hamad says little, and the individual Saudi chiefs are reluctant to talk too much in front of him, probably because they wish to keep their own prerogatives and enjoy working with their U.S. counterparts. Thus, the RSAF and USAF work well together, while the RSAF and RSLF, though friendly and polite, do not have a history of close cooperation.

  2230 I’m back upstairs putting out fires. There’s a telephone call from a civilian contractor at one of the U.S. compounds asking if it is true that the Iraqis had launched an attack and that poison gas had been used. “It’s not true to my knowledge,” I tell him, “but I will check into it.” A quick check of headquarters (the TACC in the RSAF) shows that all is quiet as far as AWACS can tell. RSLF listening posts on the border have not reported anything unusual. I get back to the contractor and calm him down, or else I have Don do it if I am busy with something else.

  Now callers begin stopping by the office. You can never forget that most serious business in the Arab world is done between 11:00 P.M. and 3:00 A.M. A couple of print newsmen spend fifteen to thirty minutes asking me questions. Since it’s too early in the deployment for a Public Affairs Officer to be in theater, I use my best judgment and depend on their honesty and willingness not to make me look like a fool. (I never really had a problem except with Jack Anderson, who was writing reports back in the States that gave the impression he was in Riyadh; he even “quoted” me. The man has no integrity.)

  Midnight I am really getting tired and fall asleep reading messages. My eyes start burning and watering, so I put some ice cubes on them, which gives some relief. I still doze off from time to time.

  Even this late, there is lots of activity, and the phones are ringing off the wall (it’s daytime at CENTCOM Rear in Tampa and in Washington). I avoid most of the calls, and John Yeosock and Don Kaufman do most of the talking to important people, while the small stuff is handled by Grr. I do talk to Schwarzkopf if he calls, but he seldom does this late. And I also may talk with USAF generals, but I usually refer them to Tom Olsen at RSAF rather than try to do both jobs. There will be plenty of time to command the air forces when Schwarzkopf comes, and for now the people need a commander for all the theater.

  Later, John comes in, and we sit and talk. Others join in, and we go over what we can do if the attack comes at first light or anytime tomorrow. I may call Tom Olsen, Gary Luck, or Walt Boomer if I have something to say to them, but I usually don’t, as their forces are just getting settled in and mating up with their equipment on a very piecemeal basis. When I talk to them, I do a lot of listening as to what they think and are planning, and I give suggestions based on what John and I have discussed. But for the most part, John Yeosock is in charge of organizing whatever ground forces we can muster, and Tom Olsen has the air forces along with Ahmed Sudairy, the RSAF/DO, who is an incredibly brilliant and take-charge airman.

  0300 Things seem to be settling down. The night shift people are slowing down and starting to sit around and talk over coffee. But they will still be organizing reports, answering questions, or directing activities (such as rerouting an incoming C-5 so it lands at Dhahran and not at Jeddah). By now I am pretty much useless, due to fatigue; and John and I reluctantly head for the sack.

  On some days, like Friday (Islamic Sunday), we might sleep in till 8:00 A.M. On some nights, just as we crawl into bed, the phone will ring with someone from the States calling one or the other of us. The idiot, not realizing the time in Riyadh, is trying to get a problem solved or a question answered before he leaves the office. They usually start off with, “Did I bother you? By the way, what time is it where you are?” Both questions mark him as an idiot.

  6

  Planning the Storm

  IT was time to start formulating the Plan.

  War is essentially chaos, and the line between control and sickening confusion is paper-thin. If one takes care, the violence applied can be focused with precision, yet even when care is taken, it can easily degenerate into wild and formless mayhem. Look at Bosnia, Cambodia, and Rwanda.

  It is no surprise that commanders devote much of their best effort to reducing chaos. One of the major means to that end is the Plan.

  Planning in the U.S. military starts with the national command authorities—the President, aided by his chief advisers—who articulate the political objectives and overall goals to be achieved by the use of military force. The ball is then passed to the CINC in whose Area of Responsibility the force is to be used, and he determines how to put together and marshal the forces available to him in order to bring them to bear on his nation’s adversaries with the maximum focus and effect (and thus with the minimum of disorder and chaos). It is then the responsibility of the various component commanders to construct a plan to achieve the CINC’s objectives—a campaign.

  ★ That all sounds simple enough, but the reality is more complicated. To begin with, it is easy to assume too much for the capabilities of military force. What can military force actually do? What is
its capacity to achieve a goal? The answer is: not very much, and very little well. At best, a specific goal can be more or less precisely matched with a specific use of military force—evicting the Iraqi army from Kuwait, for instance. But no amount of force could bring democracy to Iraq.

  It is equally easy to assume too much, or too little, for an air campaign. The doctrinaire advocates of airpower believe, as an article of faith, that destroying the “controlling centers” of an enemy nation will render the enemy impotent and helpless, no matter how powerful his forces in the field. The doctrinaire advocates of land power conceive of air only as flexible, longer-range artillery, really useful only against those same enemy forces in the field. The reality does not so much lie in between as it varies with the demands of each situation.

  There is further debate among airpower intelligentsia about whether the attack should be aimed at destroying an enemy’s means (his military forces and the various facilities that allow him to make war) or his will (his determination to resist). The extremists on both sides hold that if you do one, then you don’t need to do the other. Both are wrong. Attacking an enemy’s will can pay big dividends, but it is hard to know exactly how to do it. Bombing cities into dust sometimes works, as does targeting his military capabilities, but both are costly and have many drawbacks; so the theorists can debate in their ivory towers until they run out of words.

  Meanwhile, the men and women in the field have to select the best of both as they apply to their given situation, and sometimes they don’t get the mix right. This was one area, in fact, where airpower failed in the Gulf War.

  In Desert Storm, Coalition air forces attempted to destroy the will of Iraq by bombing leadership targets in Baghdad, but these attacks failed miserably to degrade Iraq’s determination to resist. Why? Because Coalition air commanders did not know what constituted the sources and strength of Saddam’s will. As Chuck Horner is the first to admit, he had the means to destroy Saddam’s will but didn’t know how to do it.