by Dick Couch
“Periodically, we do a team event with the higher-ups,” Walt Carson tells me. “Soon after I took over the company, we had a headquarters element from the 1st Special Warfare Training Group come out here for team events. I had a bunch of lieutenant colonels and majors on my team. As the junior man, I was the team leader. You couldn’t believe the bitching and the power struggles at first. Finally, I had to almost shout, ‘Gentlemen, can we just please soldier on and get through this.’ They all laughed, sucked it up, and we made it happen. It’s good for us to get regrounded on what we ask the new men to do.”
The final team event has them back at the Rowe Training Facility late morning on the third day, exhausted beyond measure. It’s the last physical evolution of Phase I—almost. After securing the materials from their last team event, each team is sent to the classroom, where they conduct a peer review of their team. With the peers’ input, each man will have in his training record an evaluation of how the cadre rated his performance in the team events and how his teammates rated him in the team events. There’s also a cadre debriefing. A cadre sergeant sits for ten or fifteen minutes with each man, one-on-one, and talks about his performance. He tells the candidate where he did well, where in the cadre sergeant’s estimation he came up short, and what he might do to improve. And finally, after a hot meal and a hot shower, they’re allowed some rest. Those who performed well will eventually be selected for continuation in Special Forces training. Those who did not perform or test well will have their training record examined by the commander’s review board.
Early the next morning, they are up at 0300 for their last physical evolution—a twenty-mile ruck march. There is no time limit, but they’re expected to complete the march in twelve hours. All but two finish, but many in SFAS Class 8-04 are nearly sleepwalking by the time they return to their barracks at the Rowe Training Facility.
The officers in Class 8-04 are asked only to follow during the team events, though they’re ranked along with their teammates in the peer review. The cadre sergeants know who the officers are and watch carefully to see how they follow and support the assigned team leaders from the ranks. This input is noted in each officer’s training folder. One of the more important inputs for the officer candidates is their performance in the SAREs. All of these Green Beret hopefuls are looked at carefully, but none more so than the officer candidates. In fact, few men in or out of uniform are as closely scrutinized as these prospective Special Forces detachment leaders. Here in Phase I and in subsequent phases, their physical, mental, moral, and decision-making abilities will be continually challenged and evaluated. Their screening is on the order of a full-on, in-depth psychological examination and a Senate confirmation hearing—combined. The first of these challenges is the SAREs.
Following their completion of the Stars and continuing through the team events, each officer is called away and sent on a series of two to three orchestrated situations that will challenge and evaluate his judgment, his decision making, and his interpersonal skills. These are role-playing situations with professional role players following a loosely choreographed script. Often, there are hard left and right boundaries—what is clearly right and wrong or what is acceptable and what is unacceptable—but there’s also ambiguity. The officer candidates have been leaders in the Army long enough to know the black and white of most issues. Now they will have to use their experience and interpersonal skills to negotiate the gray areas—the difficult moral terrain often found in the conduct of Special Forces operations. Most of the scenarios in the SAREs come from actual events that have confronted deployed detachment leaders. These real-time dilemmas range from how to stop a war crime when you have little power or influence to how to deal with a village elder who has honored you with the gift of his ten-year-old daughter. Few captains in line infantry units deal with these problems. Those that do usually have the luxury of a senior officer nearby for consultation. The substance and particulars of these SAREs are closely held, if not confidential. I’ll describe one of the SAREs that I observed and am permitted to describe.
A captain candidate is summoned from Andersonville. Under his rucksack, with his weapon at port arms, he jogs down a dirt road to where Captain Walt Carson waits for him, just outside the base camp at the Hoffman training area. It’s almost dark, and Carson holds a small flashlight to see his briefing sheet.
“All right, Captain Smith, this is how it works. I’m going to brief you on a scenario that’ll move you into your first SARE. Here’s the situation.”
The dilemma that Captain Smith must resolve is one that actually happened. Smith, as a Special Forces detachment leader, is to meet with an Afghan subtribal leader. Notionally, his team sergeant is nearby, but he’s alone for this meeting and well away from any other American assistance—he’s on his own. His mission is to find out how many Afghan fighters are in this tribe or clan, and how well they’re armed. Smith’s battalion commander is considering moving an operational detachment into the area, and he needs this information. The battalion commander also wants Smith’s impression of this subtribal leader. Is he easy to work with? Will he be amenable to taking direction and assistance from an SF detachment? What’s his attitude toward having Americans in his area? With the situation and requirements in mind, Captain Smith continues down the road toward his first SARE. A quarter of a mile on the road, he comes to a small camp—a tent and a campfire. A man in a shabby coat welcomes him to the fire.
“You are American. Good, good. I have been expecting you—come, share my fire. Would you like tea?” A young girl with a head scarf brings them tea. The man takes a drink from a liquor bottle and offers it to Smith; he declines. “So, you Americans will come to help us, and you will bring money, am I right? Do you have money for me now?”
Smith and the tribal leader verbally fence for a while. Smith tries to guide the discussion to get the information he needs while his host at the fire wants only to talk about money. The girl hovers nearby, refilling their mugs with tea. Then she approaches Smith.
“You are American—you must help me—only you can help me.” The tribal leader gruffly shoos her away, but after a while, she returns. “Please, I am Indian. I am UN aid worker. They keep me here for prostitution. You must help. Please help me.”
Finally, Captain Smith asks the tribal leader if this is true. “So what if it is,” the man tells Smith, “she is of no consequence—she is a woman. We need money. We must fight the Taliban. What does this have to do with our affair?”
In the shadows beyond the glow of the fire, Captain Carson, myself, and a psychologist—a medical officer—watch this play out. There are any number of ways Smith can take this, but clearly he has a dilemma. He also has a mission. Smith chooses to ignore the woman’s pleas for help and continues to try to engage the tribal leader. Finally, the tribal leader becomes upset because Smith has no money for him, and asks that he leave. Smith shoulders his ruck and starts up the road. There he is intercepted by the psychologist. They huddle by the tailgate of a parked roadside pickup.
“OK, Captain, you chose to engage the tribesman and ignore the girl. Tell me, what was your thinking?”
“I had a mission to get information,” Captain Smith began, “and I did what I could to carry it out. As for the girl, I felt there was nothing I could do for her right then. She’s about five-two, in her late twenties, and there’s a small mole on her left temple. When I get to a radio or back to a rear area, I’ll report it.”
“OK,” the psychologist replies as he takes notes. “And in retrospect, what do you think you could’ve done differently or done better?”
Smith considers this. “When she refilled my tea, I might’ve asked for her name—maybe introduced myself and see if she would tell me. Then I’d have a name to report.”
“OK, that’s reasonable,” the psych replies neutrally. “Let me brief you on your next problem.”
Candidate-Captain Smith heads off for his next dilemma, and the psychologist returns to the shadows
near the fire to wait for the next officer. Later on, each officer will be debriefed by the team of psychs working this series of SAREs. At that time, they’ll have a full discussion of the possible range of responses and the merits of the one chosen by each officer candidate. Those who elect a clearly inappropriate course of action may be asked to address that position at the commander’s review board.
During the last few days of Phase I, the lives of the members of Class 8-04 are driven with continuing interviews, equipment maintenance and overhaul, and barracks cleanup. The remaining candidates are notified by their cadre sergeants that they fall in one of two categories: successful candidates who will move on to Phase II of Special Forces training, and those who will appear before the commander’s review board to have their fate determined—relief for the former, angst and apprehension for the latter. First Sergeant Sarno musters the successful candidate at the assembly area outside the barracks.
“All right men, congratulations. We didn’t vote you off the island. I hope to see all of you back out here in the future for Phase II and again for Phase IV. I can’t say welcome to the brotherhood just yet, but each of you’ve shown that you’ve got what it takes to become a Green Beret. So now it’s your job to stay focused and stay fit between now and when you begin Phase II. Phase II is hard; prepare yourself for it. Again, while you’re to be congratulated on your selection for Special Forces training, remember, it’s just that—selection. The real training begins when you come back for Phase II and small-unit tactics. Now, as you savor this moment, be mindful of your classmates and teammates whose fates are yet to be decided. Some will be joining you in Phase II, and some will not. Those who will not, let them leave this training with dignity. Good job, all of you.”
The commander’s review board is an impressive gathering of Special Forces talent. The board is chaired by the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jim Jackson. Joining him are Captain Walt Carson, Command Sergeant Major Frank Zorn, and First Sergeant Billy Sarno. There are three other men on the board for SFAS Class 8-04: Captain John Block and First Sergeant Stewart Donnally from Phase II, and Sergeant Major Del Mallick from Phase IV. These men will decide the fate of some thirty enlisted soldiers and six officers who’ll appear before them. Unlike the 18X Pre-SFAS board, this review board has a clear mandate to assess and select men for Special Forces. It is very serious business.
The board begins with a single stack of training records. They review each of them in light of a number of criteria—among them, demonstrated performance, future potential, intelligence, maturity, personality, adaptability, creativity, and a mix of this stew that is often referred to as the whole-man concept. The mix is critical in the makeup of a Special Forces soldier, and subject to board deliberation. Can talent and intelligence overcome immaturity and inattention to detail? If a candidate’s performance is below standard, but he’s shown rapid improvement, do they send him on to Phase II or back to a conventional unit for more seasoning—and risk losing this promising candidate? What if he’s scored low on intelligence, but is all heart? These are the men and the issues before this board.
The first task before the board is to cut the men and their training record into three piles. First, there are those whose performance and evaluations are too weak on too many levels for them to be selected. Then there are those whose performance is marginal, but could be considered for selection after meeting with the board. And still others are pretty much good to go, but the board wants to take a final look at them. Often, this is to address an attitude issue of a capable candidate. That said, I’ve seen men in the first category selected because of their comportment at the board or a spirited endorsement by a cadre sergeant, and I saw one candidate whose arrogance before the board cost him selection. All of these men have passed land navigation and none of them have quit. Anything is possible. The board is guided by two criteria; first, what’s good for the force; second, what’s good for the man.
Procedurally, all of the men slated for consideration by the board will appear personally before the board. Prior to a candidate’s appearance, his training record is brought under review. One or more cadre sergeants addresses the board on his personal observations of the man’s performance in a team environment and in a team leadership role. One or more of the psychologists is on hand to speak to the candidate’s profile with respect to his intellect, personality, and social behavior. If the psych evaluation suggests a man may be a training risk in one or more of these areas, the board will then have to decide if the candidate’s positive qualities justify the risk of sending him to Phase II. After a general discussion of the individual’s potential and deficiencies, the candidate is called into the room. He salutes, stands at attention, and reports to the board.
As the board wades through these candidates, the atmosphere in the room, which is the front portion of one of the two large classrooms at the Rowe Training Facility, is tense. Lieutenant Colonel Jackson directs the deliberations, and he’s careful to canvass the opinion of each member. He especially wants to hear from Captain Carson and First Sergeant Sarno, and allows the cadre sergeants who observed the candidate to fully speak their minds. When the candidates are before the board, they’re asked to speak to their performance, or lack of performance. Some of the questions they hear from the board:
“Your performance is marginal in several areas; why should we select you?”
“We’re an interdependent community, and your teammates have rated you very low in the peer review. If you can’t work with your peers, how’re you going to work with people from another culture?”
“You led poorly in the team events. In Phase II, you’ll have to show that you can lead in a tactical situation and under stress. Tell us why you think you can do this.”
“Your psych exam says you’re something of a loner. Your cadre sergeant saw that as well. We’re a family in Special Forces—a brotherhood; we share each other’s problems. You earn your beret every day by helping others. Is it in you to be a good teammate?”
“If you were to go forward in training and someday join an ODA, what would you bring to that detachment?”
Most often, the candidates are questioned by the board, then sent from the room while their case is discussed. These discussions invariably invite input from a cadre sergeant who observed the candidate firsthand. The individual who directs much of the questioning and often speaks for this board is the senior enlisted man present, Battalion Command Sergeant Major Frank Zorn. This was my first close encounter with a command sergeant major. Special Forces first sergeants are in a league of their own, but command sergeant majors are on a planet of their own. They’re a product of an evolutionary process that produces some of the most shrewd, savvy, intelligent, committed, capable, and colorful leaders in the U.S. Army—in the U.S. military. Lieutenant Colonel Jackson controlled the proceedings, but it was usually his command sergeant major who laid it out for the boarded candidate. These are some of the board findings as articulated by Command Sergeant Major Zorn.
For a clearly unsuitable candidate: “We’ve observed your performance and you’re just not what we’re looking for. The input from your peers and the cadre suggests that you’re selfish and that you think only of yourself. There’s no place here for someone who doesn’t look out for his teammates. This business is all about sacrifice for others and working in a team environment. Furthermore, we recommended that you not return for a future assessment. There’s too much you have to change to succeed here; however, you can ask for a waiver, and it may be considered. That’s all I have.” The colonel then formally dismisses the candidate.
To a candidate who has tried, but hasn’t shown an unacceptable level of performance: “The board has considered your case, and you’ll not be going forward. We work in human terrain here in Special Forces. You’ve not displayed the situational awareness to succeed in this business. Right now, son, this is not where you can make a contribution. If you really want to be in Special Forces, you’ll have to m
ake some changes and come back when you’re better prepared. This is our assessment of your suitability for this work; this is not an assessment of your character.”
To a similar candidate: “Go get some operational experience and a little more maturity and come back. It’s just not for you right now. You’ve got too many holes in your game. Go to the 82nd or the 101st, get a deployment or two under your belt, and then try us again. Show us you can succeed there, and then you’ll have a better chance of succeeding here.” More than once I heard the command sergeant major say to younger candidates, “You’ve shown us something, but not enough and not right now. Put in for the Ranger regiment and get yourself to Ranger School. They’ll grow you up right.”
I later asked him about sending unsuccessful candidates to other units for, lacking a better term, rehabilitation. “This has nothing to do with the quality or capability of the airborne divisions or the Rangers or any other unit for that matter,” Zorn told me. “They have a job to do, and they’re damn good at it. But these conventional units and the Rangers work in a far more structured environment than we do. That structure’s tailor-made for developing maturity and professional soldiering skills, including leadership. We need those qualities, among other things, to be at a certain level before we can send a man on for Special Forces training.”