by Dick Couch
Back at the G base, Sergeant Olin is manning the base-station PRC-119 and receives Dan Barstow’s report that his mission was a success. Captain Santos and Olin immediately send out a satellite transmission on the PSC-5 that the railroad trestle is now unusable and will be for several weeks—mission accomplished. After the recon and action elements return, Sergeant Barstow conducts a quick after-action review. It is now 0300, and his recon element has been up for well over thirty-six hours—the others for more than twenty. The OCE allows that charges, as placed and rigged, would have done the job and offers a few tips on how they could have done it differently or better. Then Captain Childers steps before the group.
“I’ll be brief, and then you guys can get some rest. It’s very important that on a reconnaissance you don’t get detected. The mission will still go if you get no information, but don’t get seen. Have your priority intelligence requirements down pat. What is the information you need from the recon? How safely and far away from the target site can you get this information? Do the job in the safest and most secure way possible. Nice job overall, Sergeant Barstow, but a word about your briefing. In putting together your task organization, you have to address a whole spectrum of ‘what ifs.’ What if there’s no commo? What if the auxiliary doesn’t show? What if the auxiliary’s compromised? What’s your absolute go-to-hell fallback plan at each stage of the operation? Think about and talk about what might be your most dangerous courses of action. See what I’m getting at? Think security, security, security, OK? Again, good job. Now get some rest. It’s already tomorrow, and there’s a lot more coming at you.”
After the after-action review breaks up, Childers takes Captain Santos and First Lieutenant Kwele aside. “I know it’s hard waiting it out in the base camp while your guys are out on a mission. Real world, you’ll have your contingency procedures and your quick-reaction-force procedures in place if needed. But mentally, you almost have to write those men off—think about not seeing them, because you’ll have too much to do to worry about them. You have to trust them to do the job, but make sure you and they have a clear understanding of what you and they will do if things turn to shit. That usually means a total loss of commo, like if they’re in a Humvee and get hit by an IED that blows out all their radios.”
Captain Santos is still worried about the confrontation between himself and Colonel Chissom on their first operation. He wants some resolution on the issue of how to treat enemy dead and wounded. Their discussions around the fire lead Santos to ask permission to brief the Gs on his rules of engagement. Chissom agrees, and the next morning he calls in his guerrillas so Santos can speak with them. Chissom sets him up for success.
“This is a change for us, and I know it’ll be hard for some of you. I believe that maybe we Pinelanders need to rethink how we’ve been doing this. Let’s hear what Captain Santos has to say.”
“First of all,” Santos tells the assembled guerrillas, “let me say how proud I am to be serving with you. We are all honored to be a part of your struggle to liberate Pineland. As you and Pineland emerge and join the family of free and democratic nations, you will be expected to treat your enemies in a more humane way—in a way that is consistent with international standards.”
Santos goes on to tell them what they can and cannot do—basically, that they cannot shoot to kill if an enemy poses no threat, and that they cannot shoot an enemy soldier who surrenders. There are challenges from the ranks of Pineland freedom fighters. Specifically, they point out that prisoners have to be fed and wounded prisoners have to be cared for. As guerrillas, they have limited stocks of food and medicine. Don’t those serving the current regime deserve to die? And how are they to be given their bonuses if they have no ears for proof? Santos smoothly handles these objections, saying that the whole world will soon know of the conduct of the Pineland freedom fighters and judge them accordingly. Captain Childers and I watch this presentation from behind the group.
“He handled that pretty well,” Childers says. “We like for these future team leaders to be put on the spot and have to articulate the Rules of Land Warfare and rules of engagement. Captain Santos did a good job.”
At least a few hours each day are taken with MOS training. The Bravos take their G trainees through individual movement and move on to coordinated squad tactics. The Charlies teach nonelectric fire assemblies and charge placement. The guerrillas who are out on the security positions now make all the radio checks back to the base-station radio. And Doc Kohl now has five Gs that he’s teaching about trauma care. They work on the basics of combat medicine, and he has them giving IVs to each other. At first, he was not permitted to set up a central dispensary, but now he’s allowed to do this in the supply tent.
The daily G-base life has finally fallen into a pattern. There are teams out at night, sometimes day and night, and during the day there’s training, camp chores, and security duty. Meals are MREs, although the Gs have smuggled in a supply of treats they share with the Americans on occasion. Among the most odorous duty is the filling in of the latrine, and extending the trench for the next day’s business. Upstream from the latrine, literally, is a meandering stream that the Americans and the Gs use for water. The water is packed up the hill to the camp in buckets, and poured into the community water drum. Doc Kohl keeps close watch on the filling and the purification of the water. The treatment tablets don’t make it taste or smell all that great, but it’s potable and safe.
That afternoon, the aerial-resupply recovery team briefs Colonel Chissom on their mission. They’re in radio contact with Specialist Justin Keller and his recon element at the drop zone. Keller reports in every three hours, and it is all quiet on the resupply DZ—a cow pasture made available by yet another patriotic North Carolinian. Sergeant Brian Short will lead the recovery element, with Andrew Kohl and three Gs on his team. Based on information provided by Justin Keller and his maps, he has a sand-table, on-the-ground, in-the-dirt mock-up of the drop zone. Sergeant Short briefs the situation and makes assignments for the signaling of the aircraft and humping the equipment off the drop zone and to the auxiliary pickup. ODA 915’s intel sergeant is an excellent planner and briefer. He quickly covers their recovery plan, including the most probable courses of action and the most dangerous courses of action. The Gs, who are becoming familiar faces, as are their noms de guerre—Gator, Red Dog, and Pigpen—brief the command and signal, weather, and coordinating instructions.
When they are finished, Chissom looks to Captain Santos. “This looks like a good resupply operation, and we really are getting low in chow and ammo, but I have a question. How come your guys always lead and my freedom fighters always follow? Do you Americans always have to be in charge?”
Santos pauses, but only for a second. “No, Colonel, they don’t. Why don’t we look into having one of your men lead the next operation?”
Chissom grunts his approval, but Santos knows he’s missed an opportunity. An aerial resupply, while a technical evolution, is relatively straightforward—unless they get compromised. He knows he could have allowed a G to lead the operation while his men attended to the communications and technical issues relating to the airdrop.
Captain Childers and I drive out to the pasture drop zone to watch the evolution. This is a blind drop, which means that if the signals are in place at the right time, the resupply aircraft makes the drop with no communications. Brian Short has made a linkup with Justin Keller, and they’re in position and waiting. The drop is made, but there are problems with getting the recovery team quickly to the pallet and getting the stores safely off the drop zone. Then the auxiliary driver with the pickup truck is late coming back for them. When he finally arrives, the driver wants a portion of the supplies, and a heated debate takes place on the edge of the drop zone. “Look, pal,” Brian Short tells him firmly, holding his weapon at the ready, “we work for Colonel Chissom. You take us back to the camp, and if the colonel says you can have some of these rations, then we’ll give them to you then.”
At
the G base following the resupply mission, Captain Childers gives them a critique of the operation. “Keep your briefings simple and gear the briefing to the Gs. They have to understand what’s going on. And so does the colonel. Stop using grid this and grid that; grid coordinates don’t mean anything to these people. Did you notice Colonel Chissom always taking off and putting on his glasses? He doesn’t see too well. Point to the map and use the terrain models. Also, you did this with two briefings, one for the recon element and one for the recovery element. It should have been a single briefing. The recovery team is there to mark the drop zone and hump the gear off the DZ, but the recon element has to be prepared to mark the DZ and handle the drop if the recovery element is late or gets compromised. An aerial resupply mission may look easy, but it’s not, and it has to be done right. This is not some huge DZ at Mackall or Bragg—it’s some barley field or a pasture you’ve never seen before. You have to check it out for security, and verify that all the data you had going in is still valid. Then you have to make your calculations and set up the markers in a tactical environment. And when the bundle hits the ground, you have to quickly deal with it. This is a very important skill set. If you can handle a blind drop with no commo here, then you will have no problem in Afghanistan, Colombia, or wherever. Within a year, most of you will do this for real, and I mean with real bad guys in the hills watching you.”
After the others disperse, Childers calls over Miguel Santos and Tom Olin. “Your guys are doing a pretty good job, but their briefings need more polish. I know you’re busy and you’re tired, but make your team leaders come to you for a practice session before they make their mission briefback. They’ll do better with a practice, and you can help them with any problems. And you should know what they are going to say before they say it in front of Chissom. Oh, and another thing. Cross-loading. Your guys are pretty good about cross-loading equipment on a mission, but have them cross-loaded here in camp and when they’re out on security. They have to be ready to move and support each other in a fight at any time, OK?”
“Roger that, Captain,” Olin replies.
“Only delegate the cross-loading assignments to your weapons sergeants,” Childers says. “They should be on this. As team sergeant and team leader, you are both too busy to be dealing with that.” Captain Childers leaves them, and Santos and Olin are joined by Patrick Kwele to review the security rotation and the morning’s training.
“It’s always something,” Olin says, “something we forgot or something we could do better.”
“Always,” Santos replies as they bend to the task of planning the day, “but that’s why we’re here.”
The next day, there’s more confrontation. The resupply brought in ammo, MREs, and more money—more don. The ammo and the MREs were stored in the supply tent. This morning, two cases of the MREs are gone. Olin reports this to Santos, who takes it up with Colonel Chissom.
“Are you accusing my men of stealing?” he says with a show of anger.
“I’m saying that we are missing some food,” Santos replies, trying to keep the emotion from his voice, “rations for our men. I have inspected the Americans, and they do not have the missing rations. What do you think we should do now?”
“I do not have to inspect my men. They would not steal, as the penalty for stealing is death.” The missing MREs go unresolved and Santos chooses not to pursue the matter.
Pay for the Gs had been an ongoing topic between Santos and Chissom since their arrival—how much and when. They agreed that the funds the Americans brought with them would go for operational needs, but when the resupply came, the men would get paid—payment in arrears for their service and a week in advance. It was also agreed that the Gs would sign a pledge of loyalty to the new government of Pineland. The signing and the pay would take place at the same time. But the Gs refused to sign the pledge, and only a few of them can read. A compromise was struck—they would take an oral oath—but not until some words were exchanged between Sergeant Major Johnson and Staff Sergeant Olin.
That evening, the team and the Gs stand down. First Lieutenant Kwele is put in charge of the G base while Colonel Chissom, Captain Santos, and Sergeant Olin attend a meeting called by the Pineland guerrilla force area commander. The meeting is ostensibly to talk about operations and the course of the campaign for the liberation of Pineland—what needs to take place before the U.S.-led coalition forces arrive. The assembly is held in an old barn and attended by what seems to be a host of locals, mostly retired Green Berets in the role of Pinelanders—a colorful gathering, to say the least. This gallery of area residents, underground and auxiliary, numbers about fifteen. Chissom sits with the area commander, along with Colonel Merced, at a table. Miguel Santos and Tom Olin are seated in low chairs before the table and are bathed in floodlights. The setting has all the makings of an inquisition.
“I was led to believe that you American Special Forces would join our freedom fighters and work together against the enemy,” the area commander begins. “But I’m told this is not happening. I hear there are problems, and I want to know what’s going on. Why aren’t the Americans and our fighters working more smoothly? How come the Americans always lead? What’s this about working through Ra-haa and the men having to sign a pledge before getting paid for service? Why are you not killing more Pineland security forces? And I just learned that three of our freedom fighters have deserted from your base. What about this, Colonel Chissom?”
Chissom, like Santos, is on the spot with the area commander. The colonel pushes through a list of excuses, most of which lay the issues at the feet of the Americans. Now it’s all on Captain Santos. He’s in the docket and on the defensive. And this is the first that he’s heard of the desertions. The meeting lasts two hours. Shortly afterward, Santos tells me, “This was longest two hours of my life.” For Captain Santos, it was a verbal gauntlet, with hard questions coming from several quarters. He was squirming, and so was I. I like this young officer, and my heart went out to him during this ordeal. In the end, both Santos and Colonel Chissom pledge that they will work together for the greater good of the cause.
“You have to game out a meeting like you game out a mission,” Garrett Childers later tells his detachment leader. “Think in terms of most probable courses of action, most dangerous courses of action, and everything in between. This time, they put you on the defensive and kept you there. But you had no fallback courses of action, no alternative plan. You and your team sergeant need to talk it out and develop backup plans if things go sideways on you, like they did here. You have the skills and training to work your way out of situations like this. Use them. And you have to learn to control your emotions—show them nothing. In most cultures, emotion is a sign of weakness. Now, did you learn something from the meeting?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fair enough; let’s drive on.”
This was an emotional experience for me personally. I came from the meeting shaken. I thought they ganged up on Miguel Santos—it was a verbal mugging. It was a degrading experience, and I felt for him. Why, I asked myself, should an officer in the United States Army have to submit himself to this kind of an ordeal? It took me a while to sort through this evolution—to understand the teaching points and the necessity of this kind of training. And the kind of war we’re training these men for.
In conventional warfare today, we have the upper hand. We have the money, the firepower, the logistics, the technology, and the battlefield capability. All of these mean little in an insurgency. Captain Santos is being trained for insurgency and counterinsurgency, where he has limited tools, where he has to negotiate for mission success, where he is often well out of his comfort zone and has to use his training, smarts, savvy, and cunning to get the job done. Bottom line, if they—the Colonel Chissoms of the world who represent our allies in the local population—are critical to the solution, and they certainly are in working the human terrain of an insurgency, then we have to work with them. Our American conventional, fire-
superiority, might-is-right, why-don’t-the-locals-get-off-their-ass approach will not win the peace in the face of a dedicated insurgency. As much as my heart went out to Captain Santos during his ordeal, it’s but another step in preparing him to fight our war.
The following morning, Captain Santos and Colonel Chissom begin the morning under a strained cordiality. “He dimed me out,” Santos says later in the day of his G chief, “but I have to get past that. We have a war to fight.”
For the next several days, the Americans and the Pineland freedom fighters conduct a series of missions. There are always one or two teams in the field. There’s a mission to neutralize a water purification plant, to ambush a Pineland Army supply truck, to disable a microwave relay station, to cut a rail line, and to conduct a strike on a Pineland Army armory. There’s another aerial resupply drop. Most of these targets require a recon team to put eyes-on for a full twenty-four hours before the mission is carried out. Each of these targets requires a full-on mission-analysis, mission-planning work-up. And there are always the constants that keep 915 from getting more than just a few hours sleep here and there—security duty and camp chores. There are issues of personal hygiene that are essential when men are in the field this long. Twice a day they strip and search each other for ticks. About every third or fourth day they shave. Bathing involves a hand cloth and a canteen, followed by a wipedown with a Handi Wipe. By contrast, I have it easy. I’m able to slip back to my cabin for a few hours each day. There I strip and toss my clothes in the washer, and my wife inspects me for ticks before I hop in the shower. After a change of clothes and a hot meal, I’m back on the job. The soldiers in 915 are out there for the duration. (Think about it as you sit back and read this text. I can’t remember the last time I went two weeks without a shower, can you?) The men in 915 are getting weary, they’re short on sleep, and they still have a campaign to fight. They have a lot to learn, and the learning is not easy.