by Tom Clancy
★ The opening reports were confused. The lousy weather added to the natural confusion, and the troops in the attack had better things to do than send messages to higher headquarters.
Later, reports began to dribble in, and the lines on the maps began to move; but there were no reports of engagements, only the slow, agonizing movement as the two corps in the east moved into occupied Kuwait. Best of all, there were no reports of our losses.
By midmorning, CENTCOM started to send us information: the Marines were through the wire and minefields and moving ahead at speeds five to ten times greater than expected, there were very few casualties, and the Iraqis were surrendering in such numbers that the advancing infantrymen were having trouble handling them.
Meanwhile, aircraft were streaming over the battlefield, hitting the armored and Republican Guard divisions, as they were, we thought, preparing to maneuver for a counterattack. Though our air attacks were severely hampered by the weather, we dropped thousands of bombs on enemy encampments, trying to obstruct their movement in any way possible. Joint STARS had very few meaningful reports of movement. The Iraqi Army was frozen in place.
By noon, it looked like a rout. Though there had been some sharp engagements, our worst fears were not being realized. Iraqi artillery positions had been found unoccupied, and when Iraqi armored vehicles attempted to engage the Marines, they were quickly silenced. The Eastern Area Corps on Walt Boomer’s right flank were advancing apace, rolling up Iraqi defensive positions designed to repel the mythical amphibious landing.
When it became obvious that the Marines were advancing much faster than anticipated, I knew that Schwarzkopf ’s plans for the main attack would be disrupted.
The original plan called for Walt Boomer and the two Islamic corps to initiate an attack into the teeth of the Iraqi defenses, leading Saddam to think that theirs was the main attack. In the far west, Gary Luck would race north and then swing east behind the Iraqi Army, cutting off their escape. Twenty-four hours after the first units had crossed into Kuwait and caused the Iraqis to react to this three-corps attack in the east, VIIth Corps would launch a devastating blow into the flanks of the Republican Guard and armored divisions (for the most part located near the northwest of Kuwait) as they maneuvered to their left to engage the fake main attack.
But the Iraqis refused to act as predicted. As the attack in the east raced north, the Republican Guard and armored divisions stayed put, probably in the belief that if they moved, they would suffer air attacks like those at Al-Khafji.
Meanwhile, as the Marines and the Northern Area Corps moved forward, their own left flank became increasingly exposed to the Iraqi armor located west of Kuwait City.
The only solution was to push up the launch of VIIth Corps. In that way, the Republican Guard and other Iraqi armor would stay pinned, but the flanks of the Marines and the NAC would be protected.
When I heard that the CINC was contemplating this move, I thought to myself, It needs to be done, but it is sure going to cause problems for Fred Franks. The coordinated movement toward a common goal of a large mass of people and equipment is difficult, no matter whether it’s third-graders on a field trip or an army corps about to violently encounter a large enemy force. And keep in mind the weather, with visibility in feet and yards, as blowing sand mixed with rain and fog to produce blowing mud.
CENTCOM kept us informed about the traffic between Schwarzkopf and Fred Franks, as they discussed changing the launch of VIIth Corps’ attack. I could imagine the confusion this introduced into the carefully planned operation. Nonetheless, the order went out for the VIIth Corps to move up the attack, and the race was on.
Soon, all five corps were in Iraq and Kuwait. The weather was getting better, but there were few requests for close air support. The fighters were ranging ahead of our forces on the ground.
★ Earlier, during the “air-only war,” we had done everything in our power to minimize aircraft losses. Thus, my orders then had stated, “No enemy target is worth one of our aircraft. If you can’t hit it today, because of weather or enemy defenses, go somewhere else and we will come back tomorrow.” But now the orders were just the reverse: “You have a sacred duty to help the men on the ground. If they need you, you go, even if it means that you may stand a good chance of being shot down or losing your life… Now is the time for you to risk your jet, to risk your life, because they are down there engaged in combat and are for sure risking their lives.”
Iraqi Effectiveness
At the same time, we had to make sure that our close air support did not endanger the lives of the ground troops. From the start of the war, I had agonized about air-delivered weapons falling on friendly forces.
Modern air war was so deadly that even the slightest mistake was catastrophic. In other wars, if you bombed a friendly position or vehicle, someone might be killed or wounded. In this war, if we mistakenly unleashed our deadly guided weapons or fragmentation bombs on a friendly position, everyone in the vicinity of the attack would be killed. Airpower had grown too deadly for the mistakes one expects in the fog of war. I knew such mistakes would happen; they always do; and they had — during the battle of Al-Khafji, an A-10’s errant Maverick missile and bombs from A-6s had killed Marines and Saudis on the ground — but I wanted to make sure we had done everything within our power to prevent more.
Thus, I gave an “if in doubt, don’t” order. And I had challenged everyone on the staff, especially the tactics team headed by Lieutenant Colonel Joe Bob Phillips, to figure out ways to avoid hitting Coalition ground forces, and a number of measures, rules, and guidance had been worked out between the Black Hole planners and the BCE.
The factor that drives our approach to close air support is not what one might think. Though bombing or strafing of enemy positions is certainly important, the chief aim of CAS is to avoid bombing and strafing our own forces. We do this by establishing boundaries, using ground references to guide our operations.
The first such boundary is usually called the Front Line of Own Troops, or FLOT (though there are other names for it, such as FEBA, Forward Edge of the Battle Area). Whatever it’s called, the concept is simple: Your guys are behind a line (the FLOT), and ahead of them is a no-man’s-land or else enemy. You don’t drop bombs behind the FLOT.
A second line is called the Fire Support Coordination Line, or FSCL, pronounced “fissile.” Between the FLOT and the FSCL are enemy ground forces opposing your own ground forces. If you drop a bomb in this region, you stand a good chance of killing an enemy soldier.
The complication comes because of the fluid nature of warfare. That is, the close air support pilot wants to make sure there are systems and procedures that let him avoid hitting friendly soldiers who have advanced since the FLOT/FSCL lines were determined. Thus the role of forward air controllers, and the rule “When air operates in close proximity to friendly ground forces, it must be under the control of a forward air controller.” A FAC is an airman who is in contact both with the ground commander and with the CAS aircraft, so he understands what the ground commander wants done and can convey that to the pilot, while making sure the pilot does not mistakenly attack friendly ground forces.
This rule always applies — except during emergencies, as when the guy on the ground is being overrun and says, “To hell with it, my only hope is for air to bomb my position. Maybe the enemy soldier with the knife at my throat will get hit instead of me.”
The area between the FLOT and FSCL defines close proximity, meaning that if you are attacking a ground target between these two lines, you are doing close air support and are by definition in close proximity. On the other side of the FSCL, any military target could be hit.
The FSCL is usually placed where it makes sense. For example, in a static situation where neither side is moving on the ground, a good place to put it is somewhere near the outer range of friendly artillery along some clearly recognizable feature, like a line of hills. If the ground forces are in the defense and expecting
to fall back, you want the FSCL quite close to the FLOT, so you can attack the enemy ground forces with the least restrictions as they mass for the attack. If friendly ground forces are attacking and moving forward, then the FSCL should be reasonably far out, because of the greater risk of hitting your own troops as they overrun the enemy.
To accommodate the rapid advance we expected during ground operations, the land forces and airmen had arranged a whole series of “on-call preplanned FSCLs”—lines on maps that could be activated as the attacks progressed. Thus, if one corps didn’t move forward as fast as expected, its FSCL would remain close to the Saudi border. If, on the other hand, the adjacent corps moved faster than anticipated, its commander could push to the next preplanned FSCL (or at least the segment in front of his FLOT).
During the nine hundred hours of war that preceded the ground offensive in Desert Storm, the FSCL was the border between Saudi Arabia and Iraq-occupied Kuwait.
First, there were no friendly ground forces north of that line (except for a few Special Air Service and U.S. Special Forces hunting Scuds, and we had special measures in place to protect them). Second, there was a bulldozed berm marking the frontiers between Saudi Arabia and its neighbors to the north. Every pilot could easily see if he was over friendly forces or the enemy.
Who decides where to put these lines?
Since the FLOT is determined by the actual placement of friendly forces, you simply find out where your own guys are and draw a line on the maps.
Placing the FSCL, however, is much more difficult. As I pointed out earlier, a number of factors are involved: Are you on the offense, defense, or holding ground? Are the friendly ground forces using weapons that must be deconflicted with the air strike? You don’t want a midair collision between an Army artillery round or rocket and your fighter-bomber. One must also consider the terrain — that is, the pilot needs some ground reference for his lines (this last requirement will in fact soon pass away, with the introduction of moving map displays and Global Positioning System satellite navigation systems and displays).
In practice, the ground commander defines the FSCL relative to his needs and his position on the battlefield, but — and this is a big but — he must coordinate with the air commander who is providing the close air support sorties.
Why must the Army coordinate with the Air Force? Because the FSCL limits the airman’s flexibility in killing the enemy. If a fighter pilot flying between the FLOT and the FSCL spots an enemy tank, he cannot attack it unless he is cleared and controlled by a forward air controller.
★ During the Gulf War, the placing of the FSCL caused a number of problems.
At the opening of ground operations on February 24, when the BCE ground representatives posted the FSCL in the TACC, it became instantly clear that the Army units were not talking to each other: their FSCLs looked like teeth on a saw blade. (For obvious reasons, the line has to be reasonably neat and uncomplicated.) So the FSCL would be drawn ahead of one corps. Then, when it reached the boundary with the adjacent corps, it would drop or advance tens of miles.
Now, this was serious business. Even in the best of situations, the FAC might miscommunicate the relative positions of the target and friendly forces. Visual identification of the enemy target was not always possible, as friendly vehicles became covered with desert mud and dust. Engagements became fierce and confused, as pilots dodged ground fire while trying to locate targets hidden by the smoke and dust of the battlefield.
Fortunately, we were able to work out the sawtooth FSCL problem. The BCE got in touch with Third Army headquarters and made them see the light.
We encountered a worse problem toward the end of the war.
When I came to work on the last morning (after finally getting a full night’s sleep; I’d left the night before around 2200) and reviewed the ground situation, I noticed to my amazement that during the night, the FSCL had been drawn well north of the Tigris River, in a straight line running east to west. This made no sense.
First of all, we had no forces north of the river and very few north of the major highway south of the river. In other words, the river made an excellent FSCL boundary.
Second of all — and far worse — this FSCL placement ruled out the independent operations of air to halt the Iraqi tanks that had crossed the river and were fleeing north. Our planes could fly over them, but could not bomb them without permission and control from a FAC.
When I asked the BCE duty officer who in the hell had placed the FSCL that far north of the river and why, there was a long and sheepish silence. “It was General Schwarzkopf,” he answered finally.
So I said to my own duty officer, “Get General Schwarzkopf on the phone. He’s done a dumb thing and needs to be told. He’s letting the Iraqis escape the noose he himself built when he sent XVIIIth Corps around from the west.”
But then it got very quiet, and the Army duty officer said, “Please wait a minute, sir.” And I knew something was up. I waited while he called Third Army headquarters to let them know that I was angry, and why.
It turned out that the CINC had not actually drawn that FSCL. Rather, Third Army headquarters had indicated to my duty officer that he had. Though my duty officer would have protested the stupid placement at any other time, since the war was almost over, and since the CINC apparently wanted it, my colonel had gone along with the change. In reality, Schwarzkopf knew nothing about it, and would have probably objected if he had.
When I challenged all this (even to the point of risking exposure to Schwarzkopf ’s wrath), then the jig was up, and the Army had to come clean. The FSCL was immediately renegotiated and placed on the river, but too late to hit a great many fleeing Iraqi tanks that had poured through the open door we’d given them.
To this day, I do not know why anyone wanted the FSCL so far north. My theory at the time was that the 101st Air Assault wanted to use their Apache gunships to attack the enemy, and if the FSCL was on the river they would have to coordinate their actions with the TACC (or else they might have been mistaken for Iraqi helicopters by our fighters).
In fact, all they needed to do was let us know their desires, and we could have easily coordinated operations. But joint operations require give-and-take, and often the land, sea, or air unit will cut corners rather than take the time to coordinate and cooperate. In this case, taking time to work with the TACC was apparently considered too difficult, when it was easier to bluster a FSCL well north of the river. Well, it worked for the Iraqis and not our side.
★ As the army drove forward, stories began to come into the TACC from our tactical air control parties with the Army battalions, divisions, and corps. Some were funny, some showed the tragic stupidity of men at war, and some were heroic.
One forward air controller reported that his battalion commander provided him with a lightly skinned M-113 armored personnel carrier while he himself and his operations officers mounted the attack in more survivable Bradley fighting vehicles. Well, as they moved into Iraq, the team suddenly discovered their maps were next to useless in the trackless desert, but the FAC’s Global Positioning Satellite receiver was invaluable. Rather than risking the loss of their Air Force guest in his M-113, the two Bradleys closed to positions on either side of the M-113 as they roared through the desert. If they encountered enemy fire, the Bradleys were likely to absorb the first round. Meanwhile, the Air Force “fly boy” would periodically use his GPS receiver to find their location, write the coordinates on a piece of cardboard, and stick his head up through the observers’ hatch in the M-113 to show the commander and his operations officer their position.
On another occasion, two battalions were advancing line abreast through the Iraqi desert, when Iraqi long-range artillery in one sector began to fire on the U.S. troops in the adjacent sector. Since the artillery was inside the FSCL, air could not be tasked to hit the artillery without the close control of the FACs. When his Army counterparts told the FAC under fire the location of the enemy artillery, he called his f
ellow FAC miles away to coordinate an attack, and the second FAC diverted fighter-bombers from their preplanned targets and directed them against the artillery several kilometers away. The fighters spotted the guns and silenced them with bombing and strafing attacks.
One of the most poignant of these stories came from a FAC with VIIth Corps, also in an M-113 armored vehicle. His unit had progressed rapidly into Iraq and already overrun a lot of Iraqis, most of whom had surrendered without firing a round, when they came upon a prepared defensive position consisting of fortified rifle and machine-gun positions. As they proceeded slowly into the apparently abandoned complex, the FAC noticed movement in a nearby trench. Suddenly, a few Iraqi soldiers leapt out of the trenches, threw down their weapons, and started running toward the American vehicles with their hands over their heads. Just as suddenly, an Iraqi machine gun a little farther away opened up on the surrendering Iraqis, cutting them down from behind. At that point, the FAC, seeing one of the Iraqis writhing on the ground, called for his Army driver to move ahead. Disregarding his own safety, the FAC climbed out of the forward hatch of his vehicle, picked up the wounded and badly bleeding Iraqi, and, shielding him with his own body, carried him back to the vehicle. After the driver had pulled back to safety, the FAC did what he could to prevent shock and stop the loss of blood, but it looked very likely that the Iraqi had had it. His flesh had been torn from his arms and legs, and he’d lost a lot of blood. As the Army driver rushed them to a forward medical aid station, in a weak voice, but in clear English, the Iraqi explained that he was a doctor who’d trained in America before he was drafted. When the U.S. Army doctors at the aid station heard that one of their own was wounded, even though he was an Iraqi, they took heroic measures to save his life; and they were successful.