by Tom Clancy
The toughest value has been duty. It demands more and gives less than any value I know. In the mind-numbing cold of a Grafenwohr, Germany, tank range in the pitch blackness, in the lonely outpost of a border OP staring into a dark void across the Iron Curtain, in the daily battles in the jungle while far away, others decide their worth and where they will lead, in the loneliness of a decision to send your soldiers into an all-night tank battle, in the echo of taps in an otherwise still and silent landscape, in all of that, duty calls and you do it: you, and so many who have gone before you in those and sometimes even more demanding circumstances. You are aware of them. You know them from history, but you also know them because you and they are kindred spirits. You hear them talk to you across the centuries. You will not break the faith. You and your generation will do your duty as our country needs it done while you are there, then you will pass the torch to those who follow, those you have helped prepare to take the torch.
Perhaps that is why our Army has proven to be a splendidly resilient institution in service to our nation. The Army's ethic--perhaps mirroring its battlefield behavior--has been to do its duty with a quiet professionalism and competence. It is quite simply service to nation. That is no different now. Yet, as a result, some have missed the enormous and profound transformation in our Army--first from the early 1970s to the late 1980s, and then from that period until now, and then to the challenging threshold we now stand on to the future. Our current Army's identity has been marked by change or growth and informed by ideas thought through by professionals, while simultaneously maintaining standards of performance in the demanding missions our nation expects of us in scenarios as diverse as at any period in our history. There have been substance and depth to our growth, just as there have been demonstrated results in our operations. None of that happens by accident, nor is it preordained. We have described some of that in this book.
I have been privileged to have the sometimes awesome responsibility of commanding soldiers and civilians in peace and in two wars. Battle command is not complicated. To me it has three parts. The first is character: values, such as physical courage, mental courage (the courage to be who you really are), integrity, loyalty and selfless commitment to your mission and your troops. These all make a difference. The second is the competence to know what to do. Soldiers have every right to expect their commanders to know the nuts and bolts of the profession, to know how to make decisions, to outthink the enemy, and to put their units in a position to outfight him. The third is leadership--the skills to motivate and otherwise lead an organization of people to accomplish its mission at least cost to them, and sometimes in directions and in situations where they would rather not go.
I think about what generals do. I was a general for ten and a half years. Many have been generals for far longer than I was. But I have thought about what I did and what might be the essence of generalship, at least for me in this time.
I believe generals get to focus on and solve big problems in peace and war. They must know details and occasionally dip into those, but essentially they must figure out the few deciding issues or battles for their times and conditions and focus their energies on those. These are what I called points of main effort. They cannot be many. You have to decide what they are, and make them stick.
Generals must have an imagination that lets them visualize what needs to be. They must synthesize to create a whole when others cannot see, and then communicate that whole with so much clarity and so much conviction that others will see it, too, and follow it. That is command. That is leadership at the senior levels.
Generals decide where to be bold and where not to be bold.
They must be strong and decisive, yet they must also keep their ego from clouding their judgments. Instead, they must use that ego to stick to doing what is right, even in the face of adversity.
Generals decide where to intervene and where not to intervene.
They decide where to tolerate imperfection and where not to tolerate imperfection.
They must be intensely competitive. They must hate to lose.
They need to demand a climate of dignity and respect, and to know that to lead is also to serve. They can do a lot of good for individuals every day.
They must continue to grow. They must not be complacent.
If they can, they should rest easy in the saddle and have a sense of humor. Smile once in a while.
If generals can remember "Don't worry, General, we trust you," and do their best to fulfill that trust, they will have done their duty.
FINALLY, there is my own family. Denise, my high school sweetheart and Army wife of now thirty-eight years. My best friend and a woman of great compassion and courage. Margie, our special treasure of a daughter. Our intense love and depth of wisdom about each other and about what is of value born in the Valley Forge crucible.
Now there is Margie's family--her soldier husband, Greg, and our three grandchildren, Jake, Mickey, and Denise.
There is my dad, who gave me an inscribed clock when I retired: "A boyhood dream becomes a reality. Congratulations, son, on your retirement from a distinguished career of faithful service to the U.S. Army and your country. Love, Dad." My mom, gone, but never forgotten.
The Army has been like a bigger family for Denise and me. As she is fond of saying, she remembers "new friends, old friends, and forever friends." We had both grown up in West Lawn and West Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, in the 1940s and 1950s, so there were many excellent models for us. Each place we lived we tried to make our hometown. Those we served with became like family. Just like family, there was an intense loyalty in the units. You protected your family. You kept in touch with your family.
Those years after Valley Forge in the Brave Rifles at Fort Bliss, then in the Blackhorse in Fulda from 1982 to 1984, were like magic. Although it was not easy duty, and there were the usual separations and even deaths from accidents and in training, the magic was in the shared pride in being there in proud units. In Fulda, there was even the constant threat of war, as we stared down the 8th Guards Combined Arms Army across the Iron Curtain. But in all that there was emotion, strong bonding, shared duty, proud moments of winning over the adversity of weather, time, or other units in head-to-head competition. All of this forged intensely strong and lasting loyalties. These were units with no pomp or airs of office or even much observed protocol. It was as pure soldiering as you could get, and it was just a hell of a lot of fun for those of us privileged to take part.
It was not all easy. We had our tough times, our time at Valley Forge. I suspect everyone spends time at a Valley Forge sometime in his or her life. None of us goes looking for trouble, but it finds us all. How we handle it and grow from it is a measure of who we are. We had lots of help. Mostly we had each other. Denise and I and Margie still have each other. We have a steel tempered in fire that will surely be tested again, but that helps us gain perspective on each day and value those many blessings we have and not worry much about what we do not have. And it helps us reach out a hand where we can to those who need it, as we once did, to help them climb out or get up again.
Among my last places to visit while commanding TRADOC and before retirement were Fort Jackson, South Carolina, to see new soldiers in basic training, and Hampton University, Hampton, Virginia, to see ROTC cadets. I wanted to do that last because those soldiers and those cadets represent our future. Our nation is well served by those talented, motivated, selfless young men and women. Truly our Army and our nation will be in great hands if we continue to attract such quality young Americans; if we allow them to grow in a climate of dignity, respect, and challenge; and if we continue to focus on what wins and not compromise on those standards. In that way, we will fulfill our mission to fight and win our nation's wars.
To put the thought another way, and as I have emphasized so strongly, fulfilling our mission comes down to trust. That basic bond of leadership. I had seen the trust fractured in Vietnam. I had seen the trust reunited following Desert Sto
rm. "Don't worry, General, we trust you." Trust us to do what? To stay focused on what wins and on who does it. You train a lifetime to make the few tough decisions you need to make to accomplish the mission at least cost to your soldiers. We expect that of ourselves, our soldiers expect that, and those who send us their sons and daughters expect that. It all comes down to that.
One of the lasting truths about being a soldier is that friendships formed with comrades in arms are the deepest and most enduring. Denise and I were privileged beyond words to have made those friendships.
I was humbled and proud to have been able to serve our nation and "to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States of America" in the United States Army in peace and two wars. That I was permitted to remain on active duty following the amputation of my left leg below the knee, and that I was given every opportunity to serve by Army leaders, by policy, and by my fellow soldiers, has been life's great privilege. My everlasting thanks to this great and noble institution, to our nation which it serves, and to the soldiers in whose ranks I was permitted to serve for thirty-five and a half years.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Once More . . ."
PRESIDENT George W. Bush said in an address to the nation on 11 September 2001,
"Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices: secretaries, businessmen and women, military and federal workers, moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror. . . . Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve. America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining."
As I write these new chapters, the United States Army has more than 300,000 soldiers in day and night combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, forward stationed in nations like Korea, or in other active operational areas like the Balkans. Of the thirty-three active Army brigades, thirty-one are involved in those operations, have come back within the last six months, or are getting ready to go within the next three months. More than 160,000 Reserve Component soldiers are currently mobilized. Whether back in the U.S.A. or in those forward stationed areas, their families also serve in their own courageous way. In our nation and in nations who have given their young men and women to serve, other families bear the pain of loss for those who have "given their last full measure of devotion" fighting for our very freedoms. Still more soldiers, recovering from wounds, battle on in hospitals and in their hometowns to go on with their lives after giving all they had. All of these soldiers inspire us with their fierce commitment to their mission, their versatile and innovative skills, their bottomless reservoir of courage, and their ability to win as part of a joint military team. Formed on 14 June 1775, and older than our nation it serves so faithfully, the U.S. Army has had many magnificent moments in its almost 229 year history of service to America. This is one of those times. America can remain proud of her Army.
From the early 1990s until today, there has been no strategic pause, nor any timeouts. U.S. armed forces have stayed ready and they have transformed themselves into a military able to fight and win two different campaigns against two different enemies in entirely different conditions.
On opening day of the 2002 baseball season at Camden Yards, the Baltimore Orioles honored the men and women of our military Special Operating Forces with a ceremony on the field before the game. It was a splendid tribute to those who, with our Afghan allies, had taken the fight to the Taliban in Afghanistan and both freed that country from the grip of a repressive regime and destroyed Al Qaeda and their terrorist training camps responsible for attacks on America on 11 September 2001, just seven months before.
After that ceremony, Tom Clancy, one of the Orioles's owners, invited me to join him to meet and talk with these great Americans. I was proud to be with them and listen to their stories of what they had done for America and the world. Theirs were stories of extraordinary professional skills and of uncommon valor. It was my first talk with combat veterans since 11 September 2001. Those discussions and my own impressions would be repeated many times afterward in formal meetings, briefings, hospital wards visiting fellow amputees, and casual meetings on the street or in airports. It would always be the same for me no matter the rank or position of those I met--I was always inspired by their courage, great professional skill, and fierce commitment to this noble cause to defend our freedoms.
TRANSFORMATION
What I witnessed was a quiet transformation in the U.S. military from the early 1990s and Desert Storm to today.
It is a transformation that occurred in the U.S. Army amidst what could have been a ruinous rapid demobilization from an eighteen-division active force of 780,000 to a ten-division force of 480,000 and corresponding reductions in the Reserve Component so that the total Army is about half the size it had been during Desert Storm. Demobilization and wavering commitments to tough battle-focused training had almost ruined the post-World War II Army of 1945, so that when it was called to battle in Korea in 1950, it suffered some early and costly defeats.
Army Chief of Staff General Gordon Sullivan (1991-1995) challenged the Army to "break the mold" of demobilization and resultant unreadiness for war as happened after World War I and again after World War II. The U.S. Army has broken that mold by showing a remarkable ability to adapt to a wide variety of operational missions from 1991 to 2003. From 1950 to 1989 the U.S. Army went on ten major deployments. From 1989 to the present the number has more than tripled and counting from disaster relief in the U.S.A., to battle in Somalia, Rwanda, Bosnia, Kosovo, Haiti, the Sinai, rapid deployments to Kuwait, the Philippines, holding the line in Korea, to war in Afghanistan and Iraq. No one predicted many of those scenarios nor did they predict when they would occur because such predictions are not possible. What is possible is for the U.S. Army to keep itself trained and ready, to continue to develop officer and NCO leaders, to focus on service to the nation, and to develop the expertise to operate where our nation needs its Army to operate. Current Army Chief of Staff General Pete Schoomaker calls this "relevant and ready." For this war on those who practice terrorism, this war where our nation was directly attacked, our Army and our military were ready, and they have fought this war with extraordinary courage and skill.
FIRST BATTLES
In an old U.S. Army's capstone Field Manual 100-5, published 1 July 1976, there is one timeless statement: "Today the U.S. Army must, above all else, prepare to fight and win the first battle of the next war" (U.S. Army Field Manual 100-5, Operations, HQ Department of the Army, Washington, D.C., 1 July 1976, p. 1-1).
Earlier in this book we described the "rebirth," the remarkable transformation that had taken place in the U.S. Army from the dark days in the 1970s to winning so decisively in Desert Storm in 1991. That war in my own judgment was a Janus War, combining a bit of the past and a bit of the future. Together with Operation Just Cause in Panama in 1989, it was the first battle of the next war after the Cold War, and it pointed to the future in many ways. That first battle was a decisive battlefield victory with the U.S. Army as good in the field as it had ever been. One of our major strategic goals in the early 1990s was to ensure that the future Army would have the same battlefield edge we had in Desert Storm when it next went to war.
In these chapters, I would like to add to that story. Today's Army does possess that same battlefield edge and more. The U.S. Army did not stop the momentum of that "rebirth" after Desert Storm because it is the duty of America's Army to continue to transform itself to be ready, to fight and win the first battles of the next war. Our Army did just that in Afghanistan, as those veterans related in their combat stories on opening day, and it did so in Iraq. Our forces continue to fight remaini
ng elements in Iraq who oppose a free Iraq, and those in Afghanistan who oppose a free Afghanistan.
In the military one never knows how long it will be before the nation issues the call to battle. The period of rebirth that occurred from the 1970s lasted almost twenty years. The period following Desert Storm, from 1991 to 2001, was shorter and involved combat in Somalia in 1993. This post-Desert Storm era has been a continuum of operations requiring the Army to transform itself even while performing a wide variety of missions worldwide. For the U.S. Army or the U.S. military, there is no such thing as a timeout or "strategic pause." Those ten years were full of radically different challenges than those faced from 1973 to 1991, yet the Army met and continues to meet them. As successive Army Chiefs including current Chief General Pete Schoomaker have said, there is only one acceptable standard for America's Army, to win the nation's land wars as part of the joint team. All the talk about transformation, budget processes, size of the Army, and arguments over weapons programs, is only relevant if you win.