We had a freak situation where we lost an airman who was struck by lightning on the flight line. The storm was well beyond five miles off the coast, so he was out there working on an airplane and boom! It killed him. As if that’s not horrible enough, the situation got even worse when his family arrived. They were totally dysfunctional, and the father decided to take it all out on Nort. While Nort believed that it was ours to accept if it would help the family deal with their grief, at that point I had yet to grasp that concept.
They wanted to see where it happened so we took them out to the flight line, but not only were they in mourning, but this family hated each other. They were so dysfunctional that they insisted on everyone driving separate cars. We had a caravan cutting across the runway to the spot where the incident occurred. The wife couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old, probably even younger. She just lay on the ground and wailed at the top of her lungs, which kind of reverberated off the adjacent hangars. Then the father arrived and bolted out of the car in a beeline for Norty, screaming at him and berating him and getting in his face while accusing Nort of being responsible for the death. I just wanted to kill him because he was actually shoving my husband, and there was no one on this earth who was more heartbroken by these deaths than Norty! The chaplain came over and grabbed my hand, pulling me back a bit. He didn’t say a thing, just squeezed my hand and pulled me back. When it was all over I went up to him and confided, “I wanted to kill that man. He was so unappreciative of Nort’s kindness and attempts to help him.”
And he said, “Suzie, the man has to do what he has to do.” That grieving parent needed to vent and release the torment surrounding the loss of his son. Norty understood. It would take me a little longer. But this was a wonderful learning experience for me, and I did get better at it with time.
This became so important to us that Norty set up a course for all seventeen incoming squadron commanders that taught them how to handle mishaps. I put together a spouse panel on the topic, and I invited the spouse of another one of our mishap pilots to sit on the panel. She explained what she went through and what was good about how Hurlburt had handled it and what was not so good. She told us how she had felt comforted when Norty and I came by her home and spent time with her immediately after she got the news. She explained what’s right to say at the time, and what not to say. Just being there for her and allowing her to talk about her husband made her feel better. But the one cardinal rule is to never say you understand … because the truth is, you don’t (and can’t).
About a year after the lightning mishap, we named the airman leadership school at Hurlburt after the young airman who had died. The family flew back for the ceremony, and I must admit that I was worried that the hot-tempered father would lose it again and use Norty as his punching bag. But this time, when the father approached Norty, it was to shake his hand and say “Thank you.” At that moment I renewed my pledge to do whatever was in my power to care for the families of the fallen. Fourteen years later, I would have that opportunity.
In early April 2009, Secretary Gates changed the policy to allow families to welcome their fallen back at the dignified transfer ceremony—that’s when the plane containing the fallen’s remains arrives at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware. Norty and I made among the first trips up that April to greet the fallen returnee. There were three that night. We did our best to comfort the grieving families, but I was horrified by what I saw.
I held it all in until our flight back to Washington, then I exploded. “Can you believe that? They had those families crammed together in a hallway sitting on metal folding chairs!” This was not a suitable way to have the families grieve, and it was insulting for the United States of America to disrespect the memory of these heroes in such a way. There’s a reason they call it the “ultimate sacrifice.” We don’t have a draft anymore, so they were not forced to serve. They chose to do it. To sacrifice themselves to safeguard the freedoms of the greatest country on earth. Their families deserved far more than that country was providing for them that night.
I told Norty that we had to do something about this right away—and of course he agreed. I called in every chit I had and worked this like a pit bull in heat.
Less than six months later, we cut the ribbon on the Center for the Families of the Fallen—a lovely facility custom-designed to meet the needs of these families. There’s a prayer and meditation room, private family sitting areas, and a kid’s room where the little ones can go to watch videos. Some leave messages on the chalkboard for their daddy or mommy. Those are very moving and poignant; they’ll just break your heart. Volunteers make sure there is always fresh coffee and cookies; diapers are available, as are books, CDs, makeup, and just about anything else they might need. To top it off, we opened up a Fisher House right next door. So not only do we have the Center, but the families can stay right there on the campus without having to find a hotel downtown.
* * *
This was not only the low point of my tenure as Chief of Staff—it was the low point of my entire career.
I first learned about it in May of 2010 when I received an Inspector General’s report surrounding some questionable activity at the Dover Mortuary, an Air Force facility that processes the remains of the fallen from all branches of the military. It centered on specific instances where some of the workers felt the supervisors were not conducting business in accordance with state and national mortuary standards, particularly on issues concerning inventory of autopsied remains, and the ultimate disposition of some other remains. They declared whistleblower status in order to bring attention to this problem, which led to the intervention of the Office of Special Counsel, a watchdog group that protects them against reprisals. We’d been negotiating with the Office for many months. Finally, in November of 2011, we were advised that their findings of “gross mismanagement” were about to be released to the public.
We prepared for the release and we hoped that we had it contained. What we did not anticipate was that within a day it would snowball and explode into a public relations fiasco when reporters uncovered other incidents that occurred long before our tenure, some going all the way back to 9/11, including reports that between 2003 and 2008, the Air Force discarded the partial remains of up to 274 American troops into a Virginia landfill. You can imagine the sort of atmospherics of saying that the remains of a fallen soldier ended up in a waste dump. The truth is that most of these were particles on microscope slides that staff was trying to identify. As such, at that time, that was arguably the appropriate thing to do with these items. But the way it played out in the press, that was irrelevant. It became a public relations disaster.
Any way you look at it, it was terrible situation that was not worthy of the fallen or their families, one that took a tremendous toll on the leadership of the Air Force both emotionally and in terms of time. It tarnished the reputation of the Air Force externally—and, even more importantly, with our service brothers and sisters and their families who have to have confidence that if their son or daughter or father or mother die in a combat situation, when they come home they will be treated with the dignity and respect that one has every right to expect. It’s an example of a bad story that never got better; one that consumed oxygen that we desperately wanted to use for other purposes. We dealt with both procedural and personnel internal issues and we reached out to the media and to those on Capitol Hill who had an intense interest; we did so with candor and full disclosure. But neither were satisfied.
Part of this issue started with a debate over a decision by a supervisor. A family had indicated a desire for the marine to be in uniform in the casket following his death from a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. But the marine’s injury resulted in a disfigurement of his arm such that it could not fit into the uniform. So the supervisor directed the embalmers to remove a part of the arm bone so that it would fit into the uniform and be consistent with the family’s wishes. The embalmer felt that this was an abuse of the dead and a violation
of mortuary ethics, even though it was a result of an attempt to fulfill the family’s request. There was a difference of opinion between the embalmer and the supervisor.
Other allegations were that workers at the mortuary misplaced a dead soldier’s ankle, and that they permitted an Army hospital in Europe to ship fetal remains back to the United States in a cardboard box rather than the prescribed aluminum transfer case.
The Inspector General (IG) determined that there was not enough evidence to prove the supervisors had broken any regulations. These were not people who were acting frivolously; rather, their decisions were prompted by good faith desires to best meet family requests. Still, we took strong disciplinary action against the supervisors. That’s not how it played out in the media, or in Congress, where some senators latched onto it as ammunition and an opportunity to grandstand. I think in part they were furious that anything but perfection would be permitted at the mortuary. They called our punishments inadequate.
Senator Jon Tester (D-Montana) fired off a letter to Secretary Donley, asking, “Why weren’t they fired?” Senator Claire McCaskill (D-Missouri) issued her own missive, alleging that the Inspector General “may have acted to protect the Air Force at the expense of facts” in investigating the Dover scandal.
The following day I happened to be on the Hill testifying before the Senate Armed Services Committee, along with the other Joint Chiefs of Staff. The hearing had nothing to do with Dover. We were there to discuss whether the chief of the National Guard Bureau should be a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but even then, certain senators used it as an opportunity to get on the record and grill me about Dover.
The first was Senator Kelly Ayotte (R-New Hampshire), who leaned forward from her tall, black leather chair behind the long, curved wooden bench at the front of room G50 of the Dirksen Senate Office Building, a mass of photographers kneeling in the well that separated us from the row of senators. She read from a prepared statement, yet did her best to glance up from her paper and make eye contact as she solemnly stated her case and posed her question:
General Schwartz, on a different topic … I’m deeply troubled by the reports about what’s happened at the mortuary at the Dover Air Force Base, and I’m sure you would agree with me this is outrageous that remains of our soldiers would be put in a landfill and not treated with the appropriate dignity and honor, which they deserve. Can you tell me where we are with this and how we’re going to ensure that this never happens again and, most importantly, those who have participated in this outrage are going to be held accountable?
I switched on the microphone, clasped my hands together, and thoughtfully looked up at the senator. I spoke slowly and deliberately:
Senator, first of all, let me clarify the allegation about putting remains in a landfill. These were portions, prior to 2008, which were sent away from the Dover mortuary to a funeral home for cremation, which is an authorized method of dealing with remains, particularly those that are separated from the larger portion of remains returned to the family. After that, the results of the cremation came back to the mortuary, then were sent to a medical-support company for incineration. So you had cremation, then incineration, and it was at that point that this medical-support organization placed the residuals from that effort into a landfill. In 2008, the Air Force came to the conclusion that that was not the best way to deal with those remains. And so it is now done in the traditional fashion of burial at sea. It has been that way since 2008. It will continue to be that way in the future.
At that point I started to get emotional, and it had to be clear that my words came straight from the heart:
And let me just conclude by saying the Secretary of the Air Force, Mike Donley, and I take personal responsibility for this. Our obligation is to treat our fallen with reverence and dignity and respect and to provide the best possible support and care for their families. That is our mission. The people who did not fulfill our expectations were disciplined, and there’s no doubt what our expectations are today.
Later in the hearing, Senator McCaskill brought up her letter that questioned the IG’s impartiality. She went on for over two minutes before finally posing her question to me:
I want to make sure that the Inspector Generals are not so busy looking after the institution that they fail to point out wrongdoing, which was not ever acknowledged, and that there is accountability for the people involved. And so I want you to address the special counsel’s report as it relates to the Air Force investigation.
I did my best to put it into context:
Senator McCaskill, there clearly were unacceptable mistakes made. Whether they constitute wrongdoing is another matter entirely. And when you look at a situation like this, you look at the facts of the case, as an attorney might say. You look at the context in which the event or the mistakes occurred. And you also consider the demands that are placed on individuals and organizations. With respect to accountability, we also had an obligation to ensure that the statutory requirements for due process were followed. We did that precisely. And I can only speak for the case of the uniformed officer [there were two civilian employees who were not under my jurisdiction, but rather under the purview of Secretary Donley], but the uniformed officer received a letter of reprimand. We established an unfavorable information file. We removed him from the command list, and his anticipated job as a group commander at Shaw Air Force Base was redlined. This is not a trivial sanction. Of course, after the hearing, I was bombarded by questions from the press.
“There is nothing more sacred, there is nothing that is a more profound obligation than treating our fallen with reverence, dignity, and respect,” I told them. “This was difficult work, and while their performance did not meet standards, this was not a deliberate act.”
Ultimately, Defense Secretary Panetta called for a complete review of the mortuary operations. The reviewing panel was led by retired General John Abizaid. It included public-health and funeral-service experts. They released their report on February 28, 2012. It listed twenty recommendations intended to address problems with command, oversight, policy, operations, and workflow, identifying the command structure and lack of oversight as the main sources of the problem. As you can imagine, the report reopened the can of worms and reignited all the furor.
Secretary Donley and I stepped into the Pentagon press briefing room immediately upon the conclusion of General Abizaid’s presentation. I stood off to the side and slightly behind Secretary Donley as he approached the wooden lectern beneath the row of bright TV lights mounted on the ceiling. He began with a prepared statement. Then the salvo of questions began. The secretary handled the first few, then they turned to me.
NBC correspondent Jim Miklaszewski asked for clarification on the issue of the command structure, immediately followed by a question from his associate, NBC national security producer Courtney Kube. She gestured with her small white reporter’s steno pad as she spoke:
With all due respect, General Schwartz, General Abizaid called it dysfunctional, isolated and orphaned … Who should have been responsible during your tenure that there was this lack of oversight at Dover? I mean at a place where there should be monumental respect and attention paid to it. Who … Which … ?
I moved forward toward the podium and looked into her eyes. “You’re looking at him. Me. I’m responsible.”
She nodded and feverishly started scrawling onto the pad.
In the words of Harry Truman, “The buck stops here.” I got up and made it clear that I was the accountable party. I took full responsibility. By doing so, it took the wind out of their sails and seemed to stem the tide. But it’s a great example of a crisis that just detonates out of nowhere and you have to deal with it—quickly, effectively—and most importantly, honestly.
The following day I spoke at a breakfast meeting of the Defense Writers Group, fully prepared to share my thoughts on how we could most effectively deal with our shrinking Air Force budget in
the years to come. But once again, just as I was about to begin my prepared remarks, the host made a preemptive strike. “Our guest this morning is General Norton Schwartz, Chief of Staff of the Air Force. Sir, thank you for joining us. The topic that’s at the top of a lot of people’s minds right now is the situation at Dover. Can you start off with some updates on … how to prevent the situation from occurring in the future?”
Fair question, and one that deserved my temporary deviation from the planned topic. I mention this now because—following a tracking of the facts and recommendations contained in the Abizaid report—I once again became a bit emotional as I opened up to the group:
Let me again just reiterate that I make no attempt, and couldn’t even if I desired to, justify what happened prior to 2008, much less in 2002. We have endeavored since 2008 to ensure that we treat the fallen with the dignity and respect and in fact the reverence that they and their families deserve. This is a no-fail business. This is one of those areas where perfection is the only standard, and any deviation from that is not only a disappointment, it’s an affront to the families of the fallen and our expectations of ourselves. So we have worked diligently over the last two years to implement changes which General Abizaid generally characterized as positive, and we’ll certainly continue on that path.
Suzie took it all very personally. She continues: It hurt my heart because we had personally done so much at Dover and there was really only goodness happening there by this time. But it broke on Norty’s watch, so he was the one who stepped up and took full responsibility, even though it occurred long before his tenure as Chief.
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