leadership

Syllabus and Book of Readings Contains Advance Sheets and Readings

L400: Art of Command

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC)

Advanced Operations Course (AOC) CGSC AY 2021–2022

DEPARTMENT OF COMMAND AND LEADERSHIP US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE

FORT LEAVENWORTH, KS 66027-2301

This publication contains copyrighted material and may not be reproduced without permission.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command

AY 2021–2022

Contents L400: Art of Command Block Advance Sheet ........................................................................................................................L400BAS-1 L411: Transition to Command Advance Sheet..................................................................................................................................L411AS-10 L411RA: Ridgway Takes Command................................................................................................L411RA-13 L411RB: ADP 6-0 Mission Command, Chapter 2 Excerpt..............................................................L411RB-26 L411RC: ADP 5-0 The Operations Process, Chapter 5 Excerpt……................................................L411RC-39 L412: Developing Leadership Capacity Advance Sheet..................................................................................................................................L412AS-49 L412RA: A Framework for Leadership Development.......................................................................L412RA-52 L412RB: 2018 CASL Survey Results……………………………………………………………...L412RB-59 L412RC: Adaptive Leadership Harold G. "Hal" Moore....................................................................L412RC-67 L412ORA Review Reading: The Learning Organization Primer....................................................L412ORA-76 L421: Complexity Advance Sheet................................................................................................................................L421AS-88 L421RA: Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework...............................................................L421RA-91 L421RB: Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaw?.........................................................................L421RB-119 L421RC: An Autocracy at War........................................................................................................L421RC-131 L421RD: Leadership and System Thinking.....................................................................................L421RC-151 L422: Leading Multi-National Operations Advance Sheet................................................................................................................................L422AS-157 L422RA: Slim in Burma...................................................................................................................L422RA-160 L422RB: TO-TR-HFM 120 Chapter 1.............................................................................................L422RB-170 L422RC: TO-TR-HFM 120 Chapter 3.............................................................................................L422RC-180 L422RD: Dimensionalizing Cultures................................................................................................L422RD-203 L422ORA: Higher Command in War............................................................................................L422ORA-220 L431: Commanders Visualization L431Advance Sheet........................................................................................................................L431AS-234 L431RA: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt................................................................................................L431RA-238 L431RB: MG Cota and the Battle of the Hurtgen Forest.................................................................L431RB-251 L431RC: Zero Defects......................................................................................................................L431RC-265 L431RRA: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt...........................................................................................L431RRA-275

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L432: Decision Making Advance Sheet.............................................................................................................................L432AS-281 L432RA: Defeat from Victory.......................................................................................................L432RA-285 L432RB: What Were You Thinking?...........................................................................................L432RB-309 L432RC: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt.............................................................................................L432RC-315 L432ORA: General MacArthur Biography...................................................................................L432ORA-317 L432ORB: Various Biographies....................................................................................................L432ORB-323 L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War Advance Sheet................................................................................................................................L441AS-332 L441RA: The Fall of the Warrior King............................................................................................L441RA-336 L441RB: Peers Report......................................................................................................................L441RB-351 L441RC: ADP 6-22 Chapter 2 Extract.............................................................................................L441RC-362 L441RD: The Darker Side of the Force...........................................................................................L441RD-364 L441RE: What Makes People do Bad Things..................................................................................L441RE-371 L442: Morally Courageous Followers Advance Sheet.................................................................................................................................L442AS-375 L442RA: Moral Courage and Intelligent Disobedience...................................................................L442RA-378 L442RB: Rethinking Followership..................................................................................................L442RB-385 L442RC: Darker Shades of Blue......................................................................................................L442RC-386 L442RD: ADP 6-22 Chapter 2 Extract.............................................................................................L441RC-407 Note on page numbering methodology: In addition to the regular numeric sequencing of all pages throughout this book found after the dash, all pages have alpha character content identifiers preceding the dash. AS—Advance sheet R—Reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson RR—Review reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson OR—Optional reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson AP—Appendix, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson CS—Case study, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson ****The same readings are in both the student section of Blackboard and this document. Because of this duality, most readings in this book do not have graphics, maps, footnotes, or endnotes to make it easier to read on cellphones and other small electronic devices. Please see the individual documents on Blackboard to see these items. Copyright for each article is on file.

Block Advance Sheet and Readings

AY 2021–2022

L400BAS-1

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) AOC L400: Art of Command

L400 Block Advance Sheet

Art of Command 1. SCOPE The L400: Art of Command block, within the Advance Operations Course (AOC), examines organizational leadership from a commander’ perspective. Effective field grade leaders understand how commanders exercise the elements of command, view problems, make decisions, and manage risk (unifying themes of the block) in complex environments so you, staff officer and/or subordinate commander, can provide viable recommendations to accomplish the mission. The Art of Command focuses on the human dimension of warfighting—the cognitive, social, cultural, and ethical factors field grade leaders must understand to be more effective in exercising command. Commanders face ambiguous, complex problems in dynamic, uncertain environments. These factors challenge the commander’s ability to gain situational understanding and make sound decisions. These factors also challenge commanders to provide purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinates, while ensuring the organization has a healthy, ethically aligned culture. L400 analyzes these challenges and examines strategies (approaches) commanders can use to overcome them. Like L100: Developing Organizations and Leaders, the Art of Command lessons use historical case studies to illustrate the challenges organizational-level commanders face. You examine commanders in large- scale combat operations from World War II to contemporary conflicts. In all cases, leaders faced uncertainty, complexity, physical and psychological stress, and ethical ambiguity. How leaders responded to those situations is instructive for today’s field grade leaders and commanders. By design, the eight lessons (16 hours) are concurrent and integrated with AOC modules 1-4. We expect you to incorporate and apply the ideas, concepts, and theories from the leadership lessons into other AOC classes and exercises. Additionally, the L400: Art of Command block contributes to three long-term outcomes: improving critical thinking, improving as a lifelong learner, and learning from experience through meaning making. You conclude L400 with a better appreciation of organizational leadership, a fuller understanding of the commander’s perspective, and are better prepared to self-reflect on your strengths and weaknesses as an organizational leader.

Note: The slide above illustrates the logic of the Art of Command unifying themes:

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L400BAS-2

L411: Transition to Command (2 hours). This lesson examines the mental transition required to assume command and how commanders exercise the art of command through the Elements of Command. This transition requires leaders to acknowledge, understand, and manage greater expectations in exercising authority and accepting responsibility for their organization as a commander. L412: Developing Leadership Capacity (2 hours). This lesson examines the third pillar of leadership development: how commanders accomplish leadership development in the operational domain. The lesson focuses on the commander’s development of organizational leadership capacity while also addressing the individual leader’s development. The goal of leadership capacity within the organization is to enhance combat power through setting conditions and enabling the meaning making cycle for subordinates. L421: Complexity (2 hours). This lesson examines the challenges of command within the complexities of war. Commanders must determine cause and effect relationships between people, events, and outcomes in dynamic, uncertain and rapidly changing operational environments (OE) while assessing changes in the environment. Based upon their understanding, commanders develop problem solving approaches to address unexpected or changing conditions of the OE to enable mission success. L422: Leading Multinational Operations (2 hours). This lesson examines the challenges and complexities of command within a multinational context. The most effective commanders not only understand the dynamics within large military organizations (climate, culture, ethics, etc.) but also the social, emotional and cultural implications when working with multinational partners in order to leverage available capabilities to accomplish the mission. L431: Commander’s Visualization (2 hours). This lesson examines how commanders drive the operations process to achieve situational understanding through continuous assessment to inform their visualization of operations in time and space so they can describe their approach and manage risk to achieve the endstate. L432: Decision Making (2 hours). This lesson examines the dynamics of decision making within the context of modern warfare. Commanders must understand and account for the variables (internal/external) that may influence and affect their judgment and decision making while managing risk and enabling mission command. L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War (2 hours). This lesson examines the importance of why commanders must constantly assess their ethical climate and culture to ensure ethical alignment of the organization while conducting operations and to prevent unethical conduct in war. L442: Morally Courageous Followers (2 hours). This lesson examines the concepts of moral courage and followership within the context of a commander establishing standards and maintaining a healthy organizational command climate and culture that fosters and enables moral courage while holding people accountable for their actions. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare. TLO-AOC-9 Action: Incorporate effective communication skills. Condition: Given adequate time in an academic course, a requirement to communicate using the Universal Intellectual Standards, and access to graduate level resources. Standard: Communication includes - 1. Write effectively

L400BAS-3

a. Substance b. Organization c. Style d. Correctness

2. Speak effectively a. Substance b. Organization c. Style d. Correctness

3. Listen effectively a. Listens, reads, and watches intently. b. Recognizes significant content, emotion, and urgency in others. c. Uses verbal and nonverbal means to reinforce with the speaker that you are paying attention. d. Reflects on new information before expressing views.

Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Synthesis TLO-AOC-10 Action: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare. Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes− 1. Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units.

a. Explain the mental transitions a commander must make when taking command. b. Explain how a commander solves problems and improves the organization; and c. Explain how a commander uses the elements of command.

2. Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain. a. Explain the commander’s role in developing others. b. Explain the role of experience in developmental learning; and c. Explain the process of meaning making.

3. Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and decision-making.

a. Explain the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships in modern warfare. b. Explain sense making in complexity. c. Explain how decision-making frameworks assist commanders.

4. Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations. a. Explain the significance of shared values in multi-national operations. b. Explain the significance of cross-cultural awareness and understanding in the operations process c. Explain the role of the transformational and transcultural leader in commanding multinational operations.

5. Explain how a commander achieves “commander’s visualization” during the conduct of major operations.

a. Explain the relationship between situational understanding and commander’s visualization. b. Explain the challenges of achieving situational understanding as part of the commander’s visualization process. c. Explain the linkage between understanding, decision-making, and risk.

6. Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making. a. Analyze how psychological traps affect decision-making. b. Analyze the impact of experience on decision-making; and c. Analyze how judgment affects decision-making and risk management.

L400BAS-4

7. Analyze the commander’s role in leading ethical organizations. a. Analyze the commander’s obligation to sustain an ethically disciplined command climate. b. Analyze the factors that contribute to an unethical command climate. c. Analyze the consequences of unethical behavior within an organization

8. Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization. a. Analyze the responsibilities of effective followers. b. Analyze how power (position and personal) affects the demonstration of moral courage. c. Analyze how commanders create a climate for subordinates to demonstrate moral courage.

Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis PLO Attributes Supported: 1 Strategic Thinking and Communication a. Independently research and critically evaluate information. b. Comprehend context of the situation c. Create meaning from information and data. d. Creatively design or revise concepts and ideas. e. Communicate concepts with clarity and precision in written, graphical, and oral forms. f. Compose complete and well-supported arguments. g. Apply critical and creative thinking PLO Attributes Supported: 2 The Profession of Arms a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. MODULE ASSESSMENT PLAN: Your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives of each lesson. You demonstrate the achievement of the TLO associated with the leadership lessons through your written communication in the L400 Essay exam and your contribution to group learning in the classroom. Your instructor assesses your performance using the standards defined in CGSC Bulletin No. 903, dated 12 February 2021 and CGSS Policy Memorandum No. 10 dated 20 November 2019.

Contribution to group learning (40%): Contribution in AOC builds upon the behaviors and skills you developed in L100. Contribution to group learning is an important part of learning and is different from participation. Participation is simply sharing and taking part in, while contribution is thoughtful, relevant, concise, and helps the group construct and advance knowledge. Your ability to present your point of view in a clear and logical manner and evaluate, defend, or adjust it based on comments and insights from others is an essential skill for commanders and other organizational-level leaders. As a rule, the quality of your contribution effort weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses.

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Instructors assess your individual contribution to group learning along four broad categories: Preparation before class, Participation in class activities, Contribution to class, and Contribution to group learning (refer to Appendix A for specific criteria for each category). The criteria for this assessment is behavioral based; you must exhibit the behaviors in class to achieve excellence in the category. As part of this assessment, you conduct a self-assessment using the contribution to group learning rubric. Approximately half way through the leadership lessons in AOC, you turn in this self-assessment to your instructor and your instructor returns the form later, providing feedback on how well you contribute to learning. This form also serves as a tool to facilitate discussion about your contribution to learning in order to help you achieve the learning objectives. Essay exam (60%): The essay exam is an analytical essay consisting of 10-12 pages (2500-3000 words), in which you assess the application of L400 concepts by various commanders from a historical case study. You must discuss a minimum of four of the eight concepts discussed in the L400 curriculum. Non-MOS Option: Eligible students who receive written approval from the Dean of Academics complete a 5-6 page (1300-1500 words) analytical essay on two directed concepts of the eight concepts discussed in the L400 curriculum. Individuals disqualified from earning the Masters of Operational Studies (MOS) by receiving a TRI “C” grade” in any course complete the longer version of the essay. The exam and case study are available in your first AOC leadership lesson (L411) on the date indicated on the class schedule. This essay is your opportunity to demonstrate mastery of the concepts associated with TLOs 9 and 10. You submit your exam through Blackboard on the date specified on the class schedule.

Assessment Instrument Method

Assessment Instrument/Method Essay Exam Contribution to Group Learning

TLO-AOC-9 Incorporate effective communication skills. X X

TLO-AOC-10 Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare.

X X

ELO 10.1 Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units

X X

ELO 10.2 Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain

X X

ELO 10.3 Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and decision-making

X X

ELO 10.4 Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations

X X

ELO 10.5 Explain how a commander achieves “commander’s visualization” during the conduct of major operations

X X

ELO 10.6 Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making

X X

L400BAS-6

ELO 10.7 Analyze the commander’s role in leading ethical organizations

X X

ELO 10.8 Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization

X X

ISSUE MATERIAL: None. All material available on Blackboard ADDITIONAL COURSE REQUIREMENTS: None.

L400BAS-7

Name: Date: Staff Group #:

Contribution to Group Learning This form provides an opportunity for you to assess your contributions to your staff group learning environment. The behaviors associated with contribution to group learning correspond to the critical thinking skills and behaviors required for success as an organizational level leader in developing ethical organizations that achieve results. You should consider the characterization of your contributions across all lessons when completing this assessment, not a single instance or just one class. As part of your self- assessment, consider your individual preparation for class, your participation in class, and how this participation contributed to the learning of others. Using the following criteria, assess how well you contributed to the learning environment:

Preparation before Class

I prepared for discussion by reading the assigned materiel

I completed the associated case study worksheet and note taking assistant for the lesson Participation in Class Activities

My comments demonstrated an understanding of the readings, case study, and advance sheet I contributed comments that demonstrated thought and reflection

I provided evidence or support for my positions drawing valid conclusions and using sound logic and reasoning

I demonstrated breadth and depth of understanding and analysis of the subject matter by my comments I did not dominate the discussion and my comments encouraged others’ involvement Contribution in Class My comments responded to or built logically on those of others (Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness) I helped the group build a reasonable line of thought; synthesizing readings and personal experience in class

dialogue (Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness and Relationship Management) My comments and questions demonstrated an understanding and synthesis of the major ideas of the class My comments and questions demonstrated an understanding of the organizational perspective Contribution to Group Learning My comments and questions made others consider their existing mental models and assumptions

(Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness) My questions and comments reveal an ability to reflect on my own mental models and assumptions

(Emotional Intelligence-Self-Awareness) I respectfully challenged others’ ideas, perspectives, and beliefs, promoting dialogue and a positive

classroom environment which contributed to group learning (Emotional Intelligence-Self-Management, Relationship Management)

My comments and questions considered the ideas, beliefs, and viewpoints of other students (Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness, Relationship Management)

I facilitated discussions in the group with comments and questions while ensuring all other students had an equal voice (Emotional Intelligence-Self-Awareness, Self-Management, Social Awareness, Relationship Management)

“A” Consistently met or exceeded the above criteria

“B” Occasionally met the above criteria

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“C” Rarely met the above criteria

“U” Often failed to meet the above criteria

After reviewing the criteria above, I assess my overall performance at this grade: ____________________ Assess what three students contributed most to your learning during the leadership lessons.

1.

2

3.

Student Comments:

(DO NOT WRITE BELOW THIS LINE)

Instructor Assessment: _____________ Instructor Comments and Feedback:

L411

The Art of Command

AY 2021–2022

L411AS-10

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

Advance Sheet for L411 Transition to Command

1. SCOPE L411 introduces the leadership lessons in the Advanced Operations Course (AOC) by examining the art of command and how command is distinctly different from other responsibilities an officer faces. Army policy asserts “commanders are responsible for all their unit does or fails to do.” What does this really mean and what are the implications? What accounts for the unique challenges of command and how do leaders address these challenges? L411 addresses these questions while examining three aspects of command; developing an understanding of the mental shift required of a leader assuming command, how commanders solve problems to accomplish the mission and improve the organization, and how commanders apply judgment when assessing an organization. As you consider these areas, you also examine the differing roles of a commander and staff officer. While both officers accomplish the mission and improve the organization, the expectations of commanders are greater. These greater expectations distinguish the responsibilities of command from those of a staff officer and create the proverbial ‘burden’ of command. The case study for this lesson is about a leader taking command of an organization in crisis while conducting large-scale combat operations during the Korean War. Specifically, we analyze the actions of LTG Matthew B. Ridgway upon assuming command of Eighth Army in December 1950. This case is an opportunity to examine what it means to exercise the art of command. Ridgway provides an example of a leader successfully commanding a large organization during large-scale ground combat operations while contending with the complexity, ambiguity, and uncertainty of a dynamic operating environment. As a result of this lesson, you achieve a solid understanding of the mental transition an organizational leader makes when assuming command, how the elements of command support applying the art of command, and how a commander uses judgment to solve problems and assess an organization. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in developing organizations. This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. TLO-AOC-10 Action: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare. Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes− 1. Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units.

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L411AS-11

2. Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain. 3. Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and decision-making. 4. Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations. 5. Explain how a commander achieves “commander’s visualization” during the conduct of major operations. 6. Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making. 7. Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization. Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis ELO- AOC-10.1 Action: Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units. Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standards: Explanation includes: 1. Explain the mental transitions a commander must make when taking command. 2. Explain how a commander solves problems and improves the organization. 3. Explain how a commander uses the elements of command. Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: L411 advance sheets and readings.

b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available. 4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement: Read: L411RA: Thomas Bradbeer, "Ridgway Takes Command." Command and General Staff College

(Fort Leavenworth), October 17, 2014. (17 pages) L411RB: US Army, ADP 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of Army Forces,

(Washington, DC: Department of the Army, July 2019) Chapter 2, Paragraphs 2-1 through 2-66, (12 pages)

L411RC: US Army, ADP 5-0, The Operations Process, (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, July 2019) Chapter 5, Paragraphs 5-1 to 5-39. (8 pages)

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For additional readings on this topic, consider: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953 (New York: Times Books, 1987).

Considered one of the best histories of the Korean War, Blair’s book discusses the backgrounds, leadership, and decisions of the key leaders. For this lesson pages 557 through 630 provide both depth and breadth to the actions and decisions made by LTG Ridgway upon taking command of Eighth Army in December 1950.

David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War (New York: Hyperion Books, 2007). An excellent work outlining all facets of the Korean War. For this lesson pages 486 through 502 provide details and first person accounts of how Ridgway rebuilt the Eighth Army and prepared it to resume offensive operations against the Chinese and North Korean forces.

(2) Second Requirement: Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the case. The

worksheet is located in Blackboard under the L400 Art of Command area. (3) Third Requirement: Reflective questions. Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class.

– How do the expectations held by seniors and subordinates of leaders selected for command change when that leader assumes command? – Do leaders who assume command change the expectations they hold of themselves? - What are the elements of command and how do they support applying the art of command? - How does Ridgway apply the art of command in Eighth Army? – How does a commander assess a large organization?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access to: L411 advance sheets and readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession ADP 5-0, The Operations Process ADP 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of Army Forces FM 3-0, Operations

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

L411RA-13

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading A Ridgway Takes Command

Author: Dr. Thomas Bradbeer

“Classic military leadership changed the course of the Korean War. In a sustained feat of combat command, an American general seized control of a fleeing and exhausted multinational army fired it with fighting spirit and wheeled it about to face a larger enemy force. . . .The story of how General Matthew B. Ridgway kept the 8th U.S. Army in the war eventually hurling the Chinese, with awesome casualties, back into North Korea is not a story of heroism, although heroism abounded. It is a story of disciplined combat leadership, relentlessly but wisely applied. It is a story of military know how, of adamant refusal to compromise with adversity, and of a stubborn leader who demanded the absolute best from every man and every weapon. Judgment, unclouded by fear or apprehension, played a part, but above all, utter confidence in his men and himself wrought what was little short of a military miracle.”

James F. Schnabel. “Ridgway in Korea” Military Review

Having ignored the threats from China’s Foreign Minister Zhou En lai that American forces not cross the 38th parallel, President Truman’s foreign policy and military advisers (including the newly established Central Intelligence Agency) had known as early as October 20 that the Chinese Communist Forces (CCF) had moved into North Korea. What Truman, Secretary of Defense George C. Marshall, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Omar N. Bradley, and Secretary of State Dean Acheson failed to realize was that the Chinese had entered the war in much greater numbers than analysts estimated. By the end of October, hundreds of thousands of Chinese Soldiers had crossed the border undetected into North Korea. Forty-eight hours after launching the “home by Christmas” offensive, U.S. Eighth Army and X Corps found themselves under attack by two Chinese Army groups. General Bradley received a rather hysterical message from MacArthur. The developments resulting from our assault movements have now assumed a clear definition. All hope of localization of the Korean conflict to enemy forces composed of North Korean troops with alien token elements can now be completely abandoned. The Chinese military forces are committed in North Korea in great and ever increasing strength. We face an entirely new war. Bradley called the president on November 28th, “We’ve got a terrific situation on our hands,” Truman told his staff after receiving the message. “This is the worst situation we have had yet. We’ll just have to meet it as we’ve met all the rest.” General Walton Walker, commander of the Eighth Army, was forced to order a general withdrawal of all of his forces on November 29 in what would become the longest retreat in U.S. Army history. The retreat of the Eighth Army, although serious, was not catastrophic. The UN command had superior weapons and held both naval and air superiority that the Chinese could not hope to compete with. Chinese tactics in Korea were based on the premise that they would commit a massive amount of manpower against the units they faced, with the intent of overwhelming the enemy with human-wave attacks. If this was not successful, there would be a lull in the fighting to allow for resupply and reinforcement. The Chinese had demonstrated, especially against U.S. and British and Commonwealth units, a tendency to overextend and were forced to pause long enough to move up fresh units to replace

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L411RA-14

those destroyed in combat. Much of the Chinese logistical operations were dependent upon thousands of pack animals and Soldiers to transport food and ammunition to the front. This tactical pause allowed UN forces the opportunity to retreat, regroup, and establish new defensive positions. With the CCF unable to exploit their gains, the Eighth Army was able to preserve much of its combat power. Within a week after the Chinese counteroffensive, the center of the UN line had been withdrawn fifty miles. Abandoning the plan to stabilize a line of defense north of Pyongyang from coast to coast, the decision was made that the Eighth Army would contract its broad front and establish a defensive line along the 38th parallel. The Chinese advance slowed further as they experienced difficulty in maintaining contact with withdrawing UN forces. As the Eighth Army retreated south of Pyongyang, it tightened its lines and presented a shorter front. UN Forces abandoned Pyongyang on December 5th. Following a scorched-earth policy, UN units burned warehouses, supply dumps, barracks, and anything of military value as the covering force consisting of the U.S. 25th Infantry Division, two British brigades, and the ROK 1st Infantry Division fell back across the Taedong River. The second week of December found the enemy shifting many of its units from the west to the center of the peninsula, which was a telltale sign that its offensive against UN forces would soon resume. Pressed between the Chinese from the north and thousands of North Korean guerrillas to the southeast, the Eighth Army might have found itself driven into the Yellow Sea. By December 15, UN forces had withdrawn below the 38th parallel and formed a defensive perimeter north and east of Seoul. There had been no major engagements with the CCF since December 1, but an uneasy lull hung over the entire sector. Chinese reinforcements and supplies moved southwards until hard fighting broke out along the right flank of the Eighth Army. Two ROK divisions engaged large North Korean formations in the frozen Imjim River area between Yonchon and Kapyong. ROK troops fought north and south of the parallel to straighten out their positions, but no Chinese units were reported south of the 38th parallel. Farther to the west thousands of refugees fled from the capital city of Seoul. MacArthur’s headquarters knew that the North Korean People’s Army (NKPA) had been reconstituted, retrained, and re-equipped by the Chinese. Tentatively, fifteen North Korean divisions, roughly 150,000 men, along with twenty-six Chinese divisions and a minimum of 200,000 men in reserve were known to be in North Korea. With this information, MacArthur painted an extremely foreboding picture for Truman and his military chiefs of staff. “The situation within the Eighth Army becomes increasingly critical.” He forecasted that it would have to retreat all the way back to Seoul and “that unless ground reinforcements of the greatest magnitude” arrived quickly, the UN command would be “either forced into successive withdrawals or forced to take up beachhead bastions positions [which] would afford little hope of anything beyond defense.” The Republic of Korea (ROK) Army for the most part was combat ineffective. Unless there was some positive and immediate action taken by the Pentagon and the JCS, MacArthur predicted a campaign of “steady attrition leading to final destruction can reasonably be contemplated.” To defend the ROK, General Walker had five corps in the line south of the 38th parallel. North and west of Seoul, he positioned the U.S. I and IX Corps. The ROK I, II, and III Corps held the remainder of the coast-to-coast front. Defensive positions thus stretched nearly 140 miles from the Yellow Sea to the Sea of Japan. Behind them in reserve, was the X Corps, which successfully evacuated from Hungnam over a two-week period from December 11 through 24. All of North Korea was once again in the hands of the CCF.

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Truman’s Assessment Team goes to Korea Truman directed MacArthur “that the preservation of your forces is now the primary consideration. Consolidation of forces into beachheads is concurred in.” He also directed that the Chief of Staff of the Army, General J Lawton Collins, form an assessment team and fly to Tokyo to grasp the situation at General MacArthur’s headquarters before flying to Korea and meeting with General Walker and his staff. Collins arrived in Tokyo on December 4, and after meeting with MacArthur, he and his team flew to Seoul where they met with General Walker. The next day Collins met with Major General Edward Almond, commander of X Corps and his subordinate division commanders before he returned to Tokyo to confer once more with General MacArthur and his senior leaders. They discussed three possible courses of action the U.S. might take in Korea. MacArthur concluded that unless the Pentagon provided large numbers of reinforcements to replace his losses, the United Nations Command should pull out of Korea. Collins agreed that if the UN “did not fully support operations in Korea in the face of continued all-out Chinese attack, that General MacArthur should be directed to take the necessary steps to safeguard his command and prepare plans for evacuation from Korea.” While Collins was in Japan and Korea, senior officers on the Army staff in Washington, including Generals Wade H. Haislip, Matthew B. Ridgway, Alfred M. Gruenther, Charles L. Bolte, and William O. Reeder assessed the impact the CCF intervention had on the strategic and operational situation in Korea. Based largely on MacArthur’s gloomy reports, they “concluded that United Nations forces stood in some danger of being overrun and destroyed.” General Bolte, the Army Chief of Plans, recommended that Eighth Army evacuate Korea as soon as possible. He based this recommendation on the lack of available reinforcements. The reinforcements Eighth Army required were not available for the Korean Peninsula because of mission requirements in Europe as well as requirement for maintaining US forces for the defense of Japan. The chiefs of staff decided to take no action or make no recommendation to the president until Collins returned from Korea and provided them and the president his assessment of the situation there.

Map 1: The UN Command withdraws South November 25, 1950- January 24, 1951. Map courtesy: War in Peacetime by J. Lawton Collins (with permission from the Houghton Mifflin Company)

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Collins returned to Washington on December 8 and Truman requested he brief the British-American conference sponsored by Truman and the British Prime Minister Clement Attlee at the White House. Attlee was meeting with Truman to discuss the future direction of the war now that the Chinese had committed themselves to supporting North Korea (and to gain clarification about Truman’s comments about the possible use of atomic bombs in Korea made the week prior). Collins reported that if the Chinese continued offensive operations it would not be possible to hold the Seoul-Inchon area; but he added that if Eighth Army was not required to hold the South Korean capital, it was possible to retain a bridgehead based at Pusan. The situation in the east where X Corps was located was very serious but Collins was convinced that it was possible to evacuate the entire corps along with South Korean units by sea and they could then be repositioned in the south near Pusan. He concluded, “the situation in Korea was serious but no longer critical.” After the British departed, Collins briefed the president in private. He reported that MacArthur and he discussed three courses of action. The first was to continue combat operations against the CCF in Korea only, adhering to the restrictions that had already been put in place (no air attacks on bases in Manchuria, no naval blockade against the Chinese mainland, no use of nationalist Chinese troops, no major reinforcements received from the UN or U.S. before the spring). MacArthur argued that if this course of action was followed the Eighth Army would be forced by the Chinese to evacuate from Korea. The second course of action called for a naval blockade by the United Nations of the Chinese coast, the bombing of mainland China, and the introduction of Chinese nationalist troops into Korea and south China. “Subsequent operations in Korea, or withdrawal therefrom, should be dependent upon Chinese reactions.” This was the course of action that MacArthur recommended the president accept. The third course of action was if the Chinese communists voluntarily agreed to remain north of the 38th parallel an armistice should be negotiated and accepted by the UN. Truman was shocked that MacArthur favored the second course of action, which the president believed “might well mean all-out, general world-war-atomic weapons and all.” He believed that introducing Chinese nationalist forces into south China and bombing Chinese cities, ports, and airbases would be an act of war and quite possibly bring the Soviets in on the side of the Chinese. It disturbed Truman greatly that he and General MacArthur’s perspectives on the strategic situation in Korea were so far apart. Receiving disparate advice from his senior military and foreign policy advisers in Washington and from the commander on the scene in Korea, Truman wrote, “The first two weeks of December 1950 were a time of crisis. The military news from Korea was bad.” As events would play out during the rest of the month, the situation got worse before it got better. On December 9 Truman wrote, “I’ve worked for peace for five years and six months and it looks like World War III is here. I hope not but we must meet whatever comes and we will.” In a radio and television address to the nation on December 15, Truman declared “a state of national emergency” when he reported to America and the free world that the communists “are now willing to push to the brink of general war [in order] to get what they want.” In response, the United States armed forces would expand to 3.5 million men and women as rapidly as possible and production of military aircraft, electronic components, and military vehicles would be increased by some 400 to 500 percent. To prevent crippling inflation he would impose selective price and wage controls and take other measures. “No nation has ever had a greater responsibility than ours at this moment. We must remember that our goal is not war but peace. We are willing to negotiate differences, but we will not yield to aggressions. Appeasement of evil is not the road to peace.”

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At this time, Truman made two fundamental decisions. The first was that the U.S. (and the UN) would not voluntarily leave Korea or abandon the ROK government or its army. UN forces would continue to fight until forced out of Korea and, if forced out, would take as many South Koreans as possible with them to Japan. Since General Collins believed that it would be possible for UN forces to maintain the Pusan perimeter as long as required, Truman still had to consider what options were available to him if the Chinese committed overwhelming force against the Eighth Army in an attempt to throw the U. S. and UN forces off the peninsula. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Bradley, believed that short of a massive commitment of replacement troops by the U.S. and the UN it was not realistic to think that the Eighth Army could clear the CCF out of North Korea and unite the country under free elections. It was evident that by the middle of December this goal would be abandoned. Acting on the recommendation made by his Secretary of State Dean Acheson, General Bradley, and with the concurrence of the British Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, Truman made the decision to change the objective in Korea to negotiating an armistice with the Chinese and returning to an international boundary along the 38th parallel. The problem that faced Truman, Attlee, and the other leaders of the countries that had military forces operating under the auspices of the UN mandate, was how to achieve an armistice without paying too high a price. It was conceivable that, since the Chinese held the initiative and had put their armies on the offensive, that they would probably propose a unification of Korea under a communist regime, demand a seat in the United Nations, call for a cessation of American aid to France in their war in Indochina, and even possibly demand the right to physically occupy Formosa, all of which were unacceptable to Truman. In fact, the Chinese rejected both U.S. and British overtures for a ceasefire. On December 19, the Secretary of Defense George C. Marshall met with the Joint Chiefs of Staff to discuss possible courses of action if the Soviet Union entered the war on the side of the Chinese and ways to protect a vulnerable Japan. While the meeting was in session, a message from General MacArthur arrived that also addressed Japan’s vulnerability. MacArthur requested that the four National Guard divisions mobilized in September be sent to Japan immediately where they could complete their training and at the same time serve as a show of force to the Soviets. As Bradley recorded: No member of the JCS wanted to comply with this request. In the first place, the four divisions had only been in camp a few weeks. They had been beefed up with thousands of draftees. The divisions would not even complete basic training until March 1. It would be extremely unwise downright crazy in fact to send them to Japan. Moreover, it would cause chaos in our overall training and expansion plans and disrupt and delay our vital need to send U.S. troops to Europe. Both Truman and the state department agreed with the JCS, and on December 23, the JCS notified MacArthur that the president had disapproved his request and “no additional divisions would be deployed to the Far East.” Another critical event occurred on December 23 that would have an immeasurable impact on the future conduct of the Korean War. General Walton Walker, the Eighth Army commander, died in a motor vehicle accident when his jeep collided with a South Korean weapons carrier. During one of his earlier trips to the Far East Command, General Collins had discussed with General MacArthur a possible successor to the Eighth Army commander in the event that Walker was killed or injured. They agreed that General Matthew B. Ridgway, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Administration, would be his replacement. Upon hearing of General Walker’s death, President Truman immediately designated General Ridgway as the new commander of Eighth Army. Ridgway heard of his new assignment while at a dinner party. Without delaying to spend Christmas with his family, he left Washington the next day and arrived in Tokyo before midnight on Christmas Day.

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LTG Matthew Ridgway Ridgway emerged from World War II as one of the Army’s most successful and respected field generals. Known as one of the fathers of the American airborne community, he was the first commanding general of the 82d Airborne Division. Ridgway organized and trained the lead the division for more than two years from its initial formation in the United States through much hard fighting in Sicily, Italy, France, and Holland. Shortly following the Allied invasion of France, he made lieutenant general and took command of the newly formed XVIII Airborne Corps until the end of fighting in Europe. He proved himself one of, if not the best combat corps commander in the entire Army. Following WWII, Ridgway began a series of post-war assignments that laid a path to future wartime command. Immediately after WWII Ridgway briefly served under MacArthur in the Philippines. In October 1945, he moved back to Europe and took command of the Mediterranean theater. In January the following year, Eisenhower selected Ridgway to serve as the Army’s representative to the Military Staff Committee of the United Nations. From 1946 to 1948, Ridgway would gain diplomatic experience and help shape the nature of UN military policy for the Security Council. Following duty with the UN, he took over the newly formed Caribbean Defense Command in Panama until mid-September 1949. From Panama, he moved to the Army staff to serve as the deputy chief of staff for operations and administration under General Lawton Collins. Ridgway assumed his Pentagon duties at a pivotal time in American military history. Evidence of Russia’s first nuclear test were verified, the Rosenbergs had been accused of providing nuclear secrets to the Soviets, and the communists under Mao were within two weeks of overthrowing one of our closest allies in Asia, the nationalist Chinese. The Cold War was heating up and America’s civilian and military leaders were in debate about how to defend America and the free world. Ridgway often found himself at odds with many officials who thought the next war would be an atomic exchange with little or no role for the foot Soldier. Ridgway challenged this line of thought and advocated a balanced force that leveraged the entire military and the industrial strength of the nation closely linked with strong international alliances. He lobbied hard against total war and advocated the formation of a small committee of experts to develop a grand strategy for World War III. Leading up to the Korean War, Ridgway’s career had spanned three distinct phases-two interwar periods and WWII. When war erupted in June 1950, many, including Ridgway, believed World War III was imminent. Collins appointed Ridgway his chief adviser and expert on all matters related to the war. He was the first to review every report that came out of theater; consequently, he was the most knowledgeable officer on the Army staff regarding the situation in Korea. During the next six months, Ridgway maintained a withering schedule, working practically around the clock to provide a steady stream of men and equipment to MacArthur and his field commanders. Ridgway believed America should mobilize the country much as it did during WWII. The debate continued on the war in Korea and the possibility of escalation to global war and American preparedness if such events occurred. In each of these areas, Ridgway had formed definite views and he was a major contributor to this dialog in Washington. Regarding the tactical situation in Korea, Ridgway expressed his doubt about the competence of many of the American senior field commanders. He was disappointed in their military leadership and the performance of their staffs. Ridgway was unaware of his position on the command succession list; however, with Walker’s unexpected death he would soon see firsthand the condition of the battered Eighth Army.

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Ridgway Takes Over Ridgway met with MacArthur on December 26. His reputation was well known to the UN commander. Now serving together for the third time in 31 years, Ridgway had earned the complete trust and confidence of MacArthur, who told him, “Form your own opinions and use your own judgment. I will support you. I will assume responsibility. You have my complete confidence”. MacArthur also revealed several marked changes in his point of view on two subjects of great importance. First, he cautioned Ridgway that the ability of tactical air power to stop the movement of enemy troops and supplies were greatly exaggerated. Second, MacArthur was now prepared to turn over full control of military operations in Korea to Ridgway, which he had refused to do to General Walker. At the completion of the meeting, Ridgway asked his new commander, “General, if I get over there and find the situation warrants it, do I have your permission to attack?” MacArthur replied, “Do what you think best Matt. The Eighth Army is yours.” Ridgway would later write: That is the sort of orders that puts heart into a soldier. Now the full responsibilities were mine; not to be delegated, as authority may be delegated, but indivisibly and ceaselessly mine, day and night, as every commander’s responsibilities are his alone, from theater to infantry squad from five stars to two stripes. Command responsibilities for as long as it might please God and my superiors to keep me on the job. MacArthur made it clear that Ridgway did not have to obtain permission from general headquarters for any proposed operation, and Ridgway did not do so. In proper deference to his commander, however, Ridgway always notified MacArthur of his intentions in advance of any major operation. MacArthur never questioned Ridgway, which was in marked contrast to the tight control he had always maintained over General Walker. Before leaving for Korea on December 26, Ridgway met with the senior air and naval commanders at MacArthur’s headquarters, General Stratemeyer and Admiral Joy, and gained their perspectives as to what was taking place on the peninsula. After this meeting, he flew on to Korea. Already planning how he intended to launch his army into a counterattack, he was more than surprised about what he found at Eighth Army headquarters when he landed at Taegu at 4:15 P.M. on December 26, Korea time. The first fact that struck him was the realization that the main command post was too far to the rear and too populated with staff officers whom he firmly believed should have been much closer to the front and to the fighting units. Ridgway immediately issued a message to every member of Eighth Army: I have complete confidence in our ultimate success—confidence born of your achievements and the splendid spirit everywhere in evidence throughout this great inter-service allied team. Having performed with great gallantry and skill under conditions as adverse as any United States forces have encountered since Valley Forge, there is no shadow of doubt of the character of this Army’s future conduct, teamed as it is with our own great services and our allies. We face severe trials. We shall need dogged determination in attack and utmost tenacity in defense. We shall need resourcefulness. The action of one single platoon or squad may virtually affect the whole command. Never before have leaders both command and staff had a greater challenge or a finer opportunity to show America at its best. May God be with you in the coming year. Ridgway received a brief that night that the combat situation remained unclear. One reason for this was that the Eighth Army broke contact with the CCF on or about December 5 and not regained it. The “intelligence situation was deplorable,” Ridgway would later write. No one had any idea of how many CCF troops had been committed to Korea or if they had crossed the 38th parallel in full force. On the

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Eighth Army situation maps, Ridgway remembered, the staff depicted the CCF by a large red “goose egg” with “174,000” scrawled on its center. In fact, the true number was closer to 300,000. When Ridgway arrived in Korea, the Eighth Army consisted of almost 350,000 men, including Almond’s X Corps, which was reorganizing and re-equipping south of Taegu. The three American corps were comprised of 7 American divisions, plus the 187th Airborne RCT. The ROK Army fielded three corps consisting of nine divisions. The other major combat forces consisted of a British brigade, a Commonwealth brigade, a Turkish brigade, with individual infantry battalions from Canada, Belgium, France, Greece, the Netherlands, the Philippines, and Thailand; along with a field artillery brigade from New Zealand. In all, Ridgway commanded 163 infantry battalions, which was the equivalent of eighteen infantry divisions. Eighth Army was about twice the size of the U.S. armies that operated in Europe during World War II and was the largest field army ever commanded by an American general. The greatest weakness Ridgway faced was that about half of the Eighth Army’s fighting strength was composed of ROK units. According to noted Korea War historian Clay Blair, “At the beginning of the war the ROK officer corps had been weak and corrupt. In the fighting since, many of the most courageous and competent ROK officers had been killed, incapacitated by wounds or captured.” Ridgway remembered that the “experience level” of the average ROK division commander was about equivalent to a “young U.S. Army captain.” At dawn on his second day in Korea, he flew to the Eighth Army Advanced Command Post in Seoul. Stating there is “no substitute for personal reconnaissance,” Ridgway ordered his pilot to fly a roundabout route, covering some sixty miles of rugged mountain country that allowed him to analyze the terrain and the ridge lines that Eighth Army might have to stand and fight along. The rough, mountainous terrain provided “little comfort to a Soldier commanding a mechanized army. The granite peaks rose to six thousand feet, the ridges were knife-edged, the slopes steep, and the narrow valleys twisted and turned like snakes. Scrub oaks and stunted pines covered the roads and trails and the lower hills were covered with, fine cover for an individual Soldier who knew how to conceal himself. It was guerrilla country, an ideal battleground for the walking Chinese rifleman, but a miserable place for our road-bound troops who moved on wheels.” Arriving at his advance command post, Ridgway was surprised to find only a handful of officers. The vast majority were back at the main CP in Taegu, two hundred miles from the front—a situation Ridgway intended to resolve. He also met the I and IX Corps commanders, MG Frank W. Millburn and MG John B. Coulter, and the Eighth Army’s Deputy Chief of Staff, Colonel William A. Collier. They discussed various means of improving the combat potential of Eight Army and the possibilities of holding a bridgehead north of the Han River. Ridgway emphasized the necessity for better lateral communications, particularly between Coulter’s IX Corps and the ROK III Corps, and close coordination in planning and action between the I and IX Corps. Ridgway then met with U.S. Ambassador John J. Muccio, who delivered some startling information. Muccio was informed that there was a gap in Eighth Army’s right rear, which presented a dangerous threat from the direction of Wonju. Ridgway was incensed that he had to learn this critical intelligence from the U.S. ambassador and not from his intelligence section. That said, Ridgway took immediate action and ordered the 2d Infantry Division under Major General Robert B. McClure, to move up and block the opening. The 2d Infantry Division arrived in its new position only hours before the Chinese attempted to exploit the gap. Muccio then escorted Ridgway to meet with the South Korean president, Syngman Rhee. “Mr. President I am glad to be here. And I’ve come to stay” the new Eighth Army commander said boldly. Ridgway later wrote, “There was no bluster in the statement. I meant it from the heart. We were faced

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with only two alternatives here. We could stand and fight and conquer. Or we could be driven into the sea. And to the second possibility I never gave the slightest thought.” During this meeting and what followed over the course of the next three days Ridgway began the hardest task of his military career: rebuilding the Eighth Army into an effective fighting force. One of the first steps in the process was to evaluate the senior leadership of the units that made up the Eighth Army. First, he wanted to meet his three corps and seven division commanders face to face. This was easier said than done as his formation was spread out over the entire width and breadth of South Korea. When he arrived in Korea, only three of the seven U.S. combat divisions were on the front line. The 24th and 25th Infantry Divisions were defending along the western corridor and were at about two-thirds strength. The 1st Cavalry Division, also under-strength, was in blocking positions in the center of the line. The 2d Infantry Division, having suffered heavy losses during the Chinese counter-offensive in late November, was still reorganizing and refitting in the Eight Army rear area. The 1st Marine Division had completed its movement to the Masan area along the south coast and the 3rd and 7th Infantry Divisions were refitting west of Pusan. It was largely because his subordinate units were so spread out geographically that Ridgway was only able to meet with two of his three corps commanders and two of his seven divisions during his first few days in country. After meeting with several of his senior commanders and their staffs he reflected later: There was a definite air of nervousness, of gloomy foreboding, of uncertainty, a spirit of apprehension as to what the future held. It was clear to me that our troops had lost confidence. I could read it in their eyes, in their walk. I could read it in the faces of their leaders from sergeants right to the top. They were unresponsive, reluctant to talk. I had to drag information out of them. There was a complete lack of that alertness, that aggressiveness, that you find in troops whose spirit is high. In fact, the situation was even worse than that. Eighth Army was under orders from MacArthur that should the CCF attack, it would defend in successive positions (lines B, C, D, etc.), but as Ridgway learned through his interviews and observations, not many Soldiers or their leaders had the spirit or conviction to stand and fight. Many of them were under the impression that the Eighth Army was going to withdraw further south to Pusan and then evacuate the peninsula, similar to what the British had done at Dunkirk eleven years before. “It was a defeated army, a disintegrating army. It was an army not in retreat [but] in flight. It was something bordering on disgrace.” Ridgway also interviewed enlisted men whenever he stopped, interested in their candid points of view. Traveling by light plane, helicopter, and jeep he evaluated the commanders, the Soldiers, and the terrain; quickly ascertaining both the physical and psychological state of his new command. He understood the ordeal his men had gone through over the preceding six months. They had been hurriedly gathered from around the world and thrown together into units that had never been up to strength, nor fully equipped, and had little cohesion. They had been sent to fight in a strange land that most had never heard of in an undeclared war that they did not understand. Ridgway knew that the Army he had taken command of was dispirited from the senior generals down to the private Soldier. It was very apparent the attack he was planning in his head was not feasible until he could rebuild the morale and fighting spirit of the Eighth Army. His visits also confirmed that there were other weaknesses along the front that would have to be addressed, especially with the South Korean units. If that were not enough, there was plenty of evidence that the CCF were preparing their own offensive during the coming New Year holiday and the Eighth Army would have little time to prepare for this new offensive.

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Ridgway estimated that the chances of Eighth Army stopping the CCF attack depended chiefly on the commitment of the few reserves that he had available and on revitalizing the fighting spirit of his Army. What really upset him was the lack of information on the types of CCF units, their locations, and their capabilities. The only solid reserve available to counter the impending CCF attack was the X Corps. As a preliminary caution, Ridgway assigned the Second Infantry Division to Almond’s command with the intent of moving the X Corps into the east-central Chongchon sector, held by the ROK III Corps. This would narrow the front held by the ROK forces. While preparing his Army for the oncoming Chinese assault, Ridgway “was quietly but firmly bearing down on combat leaders and staff officers at all echelons to change their defeatist attitudes.” Ridgway began to imprint a new toughness into his Army. With his actions and words he forced his commanders and their men to shrug off the lethargy bred by defeat and continuous retreat. According to military historian James F. Schnabel, “Where toughness was required he was tough; where persuasion was indicated, he persuaded; and where personal example was needed, he set the example.” Ridgway believed the defeatist attitude he found across the Eighth Army started at the top with what he perceived to be poor leadership at the corps and division levels. He found a “lack of aggressiveness” at those levels, Ridgway wrote Collins, so much so that he was convinced “he could not execute his future plans” with some of the leaders he presently had. For that reason, “above all else,” he wrote, “we had to learn to be ruthless with our general officers.” Ridgway firmly believed he had to have “young, vigorous division commanders of greatest potential value for war service.” Neither Milburn nor Almond met with Ridgway’s very high professional standards. Though Milburn was well liked by his troops, he lacked the “spark of initiative.” Almond was the opposite; recklessly bold as evidenced by the recent disaster east of the Chosin Reservoir. He was also “apt to be pretty rough on other people’s sensibilities, cutting and intolerant.” Almond’s first meeting with Ridgway did not go well. Ridgway notified him that from now on he was going to have to play it straight. No more bypassing Eighth Army and coordinating directly with MacArthur and his headquarters. He would be allowed to keep his command but he would have to give up his job as MacArthur’s chief of staff. Almond was badly shaken when he left his initial meeting with Ridgway. “He emerged quite deflated, still a corps commander, but that and nothing more; a man who had just been told in a very tough way the new rules of the headquarters and that he was no longer going to play games with the Eighth Army commander.” Ridgway decided that he could re-instill a new vigor and aggressiveness into Milburn’s leadership style by co-locating his Eighth Army advanced CP with Milburn’s corps headquarters. At the same time he would keep a close eye on Almond. Ridgway spared his old friend, the I Corps commander, but there is evidence that he still believed that the I Corps staff required some attention to restore their aggressiveness and initiative. After sitting through an operations update briefing by the I Corps G3, Col John R. Jeter, who outlined the corps plans for “defending in successive positions,” Ridgway asked, “Where were the corps attack plans?” Flustered, Jeter replied that there were no attack plans since the corps was withdrawing. After the briefing, Ridgway directed MG Milburn to relieve Colonel Jeter. It was obvious Ridgway was sending a message, but it caused much resentment within the I Corps staff. Jeter was very popular and a proven combat leader who had commanded three different battalions from Normandy to Germany in the last war. Most believed that in briefing the withdrawal of I Corps to Ridgway, Jeter was merely carrying out what MacArthur’s headquarters had directed the corps to do. The incident spread like wildfire throughout the corps and the entire Eighth Army. Realizing the CCF offensive was imminent; Ridgway laid out his plan for the defense of a Seoul bridgehead and focused his attention on the dangerous situation in the center of the trans-peninsular line

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held by the ROK corps and divisions. Ridgway ordered Almond to move his X Corps headquarters to Wonju immediately to take charge of and reinforce the central sector. Ridgway believed that Wonju was “second only to Seoul” in tactical importance. Almond would use the 2d and 7th Infantry Divisions. As further back up, Ridgway shifted the 1st Cavalry Division to the northeast of Seoul under IX Corps control to backstop the adjacent ROK divisions. His orders committed the six Army divisions in Korea but not the 1st Marine Division, which was refitting in Masan and expected to be put in the rear to serve as the rear guard for Eighth Army as it withdrew through all of its defensive lines and evacuated South Korea at Pusan. Ridgway had no intention of evacuating South Korea and wanted to commit the Marine division into the Eighth Army line as soon as possible. He summoned the 1st Marine Division commander, Major General O. P. Smith, to Almond’s headquarters at Kyongju. He was very impressed with him. “Smith was top flight, a splendid commander. Good tactical judgment and a gentleman. He was very calm and had extreme consideration for his troops. If it hadn’t been for his moral courage and doing some of the things he did [at Chosin], which were not in full accord with the instructions he had received [from Almond], he’d have lost a great part of his division.” Smith and his fellow Marines were also impressed with Ridgway. Ridgway directed the Marines throw away the maps they had received for Eighth Army’s withdrawal plans to Pusan. “He gave us a talk expressing his complete confidence regarding the outcome in Korea. He had no orders regarding evacuation and hoped to be able to defend on some line and launch limited counterattacks. He stressed the necessity for reconnaissance and maintaining contact, he wanted less looking backwards. Ridgway brought a new fresh attitude, a new fresh breath of life to the whole Eighth Army. Ridgway allayed Smith’s concerns when the Marine commander reiterated that the Marine division would never again serve under General Almond. “As long as he, General Ridgway, commanded the Eighth Army, the 1st Marine Division would never again be placed under command of the X Corps.” Ridgway left Smith’s division in Masan for the time being but informed Smith that he was planning to have the 1st Marine Division move forward toward the western front under the command of IX Corps. Ridgway expected the CCF main effort to strike the UN forces in the western sector with the aim of recapturing Seoul. He believed, like the previous NKPA attack that started the war in June, it would be two-pronged, down the main Pyongyang-Seoul highway through Munsan and down the Uijongbu Corridor. To blunt and stop this attack and prevent the capture of Seoul, Ridgway directed that I Corps and IX Corps establish a main line of resistance along the Imjin River and be prepared to fall back on Ridgway’s orders to a Seoul “bridgehead” in defensive positions created by tens of thousands of South Korean laborers. To prevent CCF artillery from ranging Seoul and the Han River bridges, the defensive perimeter was to be very large, extending northward as far as Uijongbu. The son of an artilleryman, Ridgway had a fine appreciation for the power of artillery. He arrived in Korea convinced that properly employed artillery fire, massed and coordinated, could do much to offset the CCF manpower advantage. He was dismayed to find out that the Eighth Army had an acute shortage of artillery. At Army, level there was but one artillery battalion (the 17th, 8 inch) and at corps level, there were only three battalions (the 92d, 96th, and 999th with self-propelled or tractor-pulled 155s). By tables of organization and equipment (TO&E), the seven American divisions were supposed to have the normal complement of four artillery battalions each, but five of these 28 battalions had been practically destroyed at Kunu and the Chosin Reservoir. Ridgway realized that no one would blame Eighth Army for this appalling situation. As Clay Blair writes, “Part of it was due to Truman’s post-war military economy program; in part to the earlier decisions to fight in Korea with limited forces; in part to the repeated, disgraceful loss of artillery to the enemy; in part to the near impossibility of rapidly organizing, manning, and training American artillery units from scratch.” That said, Ridgway called a conference of all of his senior artillery commanders in

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Eighth Army and notified them that he wanted immediate and dramatic improvement in the employment of the available artillery. Prior to coming to take command of Eighth Army, Ridgway as the Army “G3” had ordered 10 recently activated National Guard and Army reserve artillery battalions to prepare for duty in the Far East. The plan had been to send these units to Japan for more intense training but Ridgway notified Collins that he needed the 10 battalions as soon as possible and their destination was changed to South Korea. Five of the battalions arrived in January with the other five arriving between February and May. In one of his initial meetings with the senior commanders of Eighth Army, Ridgway issued some very specific oral instructions: All division commanders were to get out of their command posts and spend much more time on the front lines at battalion level or lower in order to “get to know” their subordinate commanders, the terrain, and the situation intimately. Corps and division staff officers would do likewise and henceforth prepare more precise firsthand and “honest” reports with “hard facts” and devoid of “hearsay and speculation.” Selected units would commence strong and aggressive reconnaissance and patrol actions to establish contact with the CCF and keep it with “a bulldog grip.” When the opportunity arose, units would attack for the purpose of disrupting CCF assemblies for attacks. Units would get off the road, take the high ground, and button-up securely for the night. If the CCF succeeded in making nighttime penetrations, commanders were “promptly and definitely to eliminate them with armor and infantry teams after daylight, leaving no enclaves of enemy in the rear.” All commanders will immediately start intensive training in night fighting and marches. Men reared in rural areas should be designated to teach those from urban areas how to navigate over terrain without light. All engaged units will make greater use of available firepower. Ridgway had evidence that infantry units were not using more than one-third of their available firepower. He did not want any commander asking for help until he could prove that he was using every weapon he had every rifle, machine gun, howitzer, anti-aircraft gun, and tank. All commanders would make immediate efforts to provide the men in their units with the following: cold- weather clothing; at least two hot meals a day, three if practicable; small potbelly stoves and warming tents; writing paper. When sufficient fur caps were available, the cold, drafty steel helmets were to be stored until the spring. Commanders would visit the wounded and non-battle casualties in hospitals in an effort to instill a desire in the men to return to their original units, if capable. “A man already trained was worth several times a raw replacement.” Commanders should decrease the “seemingly wholesale issues” of medals and awards. The practice, rampant throughout Eighth Army, demeaned and trivialized the decorations. Where appropriate, there should be a greater emphasis on awarding the Medal of Honor to the living rather than the dead. Commanders would employ allied units to provide “better utilization” of their specific talents. For example, British and Commonwealth units should be used on defense rather than offense; the Turks on offense rather than defense. No one, under any circumstances, was to abandon “precious equipment.” Any equipment, Ridgway stressed, had to “come from nine thousand miles away.” It was expensive. He warned that any man who “lost or threw away or needlessly damaged any piece of equipment or property was going to be court-martialed.” At the conclusion of his whirlwind tour of units and commanders, Ridgway returned to his Eighth Army advance CP in Seoul to make the final preparations for the impending CCF offensive, which he still expected on New Year’s Eve. He was not certain that his initial “exhortation” of his commanders and men had had the intended dramatic impact that he had hoped, but word of what he had done in his first five days of command had reached the UN commander in Tokyo. MacArthur sent Ridgway a note acknowledging the new commander’s efforts: “[I] cannot tell you how delighted I am at the energy and effectiveness with which you have taken hold [of Eighth Army].”

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In just a few short exhausting days, Ridgway had begun the process of turning around a defeated multinational force. He knew defeating the enemy meant inflicting maximum Chinese casualties with superior American firepower. Ridgway knew he must turn the Korean War into a war of attrition. He must revise the tactics in use, ordering road-bound American units to seize the high ground prior to any advance. He would also rearrange unit positions in the defense so that they could support one another with firepower, making it that much more difficult for the CCF to penetrate UN lines and positions. One of most important changes was to ensure that there were closer communications between the Eighth Army staff and subordinate units. To achieve this, he maintained a forward command post co-located with one of his corps headquarters. He moved staff officers at all levels from the rear areas to the front so they would be closer to the battlefield where they could better grasp the situation. He also stressed good liaisons with and publicity for all UN forces, not just America units. This also entailed stressing awareness of the cultural differences that existed within the units that made up the Eighth Army. He modified standard U.S. Army logistics to meet a wide variety of needs for each nationality and made numerous dietary changes to improve morale in the non-U.S. contingents. For example, French and Dutch units did not like American white bread, Filipinos wanted Philippine rice, the Thai wanted Siamese rice, and the Turks got fresh fruit and spinach instead of sweet potatoes, lima beans, and corn, while the Greeks insisted on receiving olive oil from Greece, not the United States. In spite of the dismal military situation, Ridgway remained in a positive and constructive mindset. After being in command for less than four days, he wrote his wife, “have complete confidence in ultimate success of this magnificent team here though some hard times are inevitable.” On Sunday, December 31st Ridgway notified his chief of staff that he was flying to his advanced CP near Seoul and would remain there expecting the Chinese attack later that night. After visiting with the staffs of the I and IX Corps, he spent two hours visiting Eighth Army defensive positions and talking to unit commanders. One visit is noteworthy of mention: In the zone of the British Commonwealth Brigade, I came upon one magnificent young British lieutenant, out with a working party, preparing a ridge-line defensive position. He met me with a flourishing salute and a cheerful smile. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help him. He said there was not a thing. ‘You think everything’s all right up here?’ I asked. ‘Splendid, sir,’ he said. Then as an afterthought: ‘It is a bit drafty, though.’ He was right. It was drafty up there. He had a thousand yards to cover with a handful of men. But it couldn’t be helped. Every other unit along that line was spread as thinly. Two hours later, just after it became dark, the CCF crossed the 38th parallel and invaded South Korea. As Ridgway and his staff had anticipated, their main effort was against the western front, down the two roads leading to Seoul.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading B ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Excerpt

Author: US Army

When you are commanding, leading [soldiers] under conditions where physical exhaustion and privations must be ignored, where the lives of [soldiers] may be sacrificed, then, the efficiency of your leadership will depend only to a minor degree on your tactical ability. It will primarily be determined by your character, your reputation, not much for courage—which will be accepted as a matter of course—but by the previous reputation you have established for fairness, for that high minded patriotic purpose, that quality of unswerving determination to carry through any military task assigned to you.

General of the Army George C. Marshall Speaking to officer candidates in September 1941

This chapter begins with a discussion of the nature and elements of command. It then describes the role of the commander in operations. The chapter concludes with a discussion of guides to effective command. NATURE OF COMMAND Command is the authority that a commander in the armed forces lawfully exercises over subordinates by virtue of rank or assignment. Command includes the authority and responsibility for effectively using available resources and for planning the employment of, organizing, directing, coordinating, and controlling military forces for the accomplishment of missions. It also includes responsibility for health, welfare, morale, and discipline of assigned personnel.

Command is personal. In Army regulations and doctrine, an individual is given the authority to command, not an institution or group. The legal and ethical responsibilities of a commander exceed those of any other leader of similar rank who is serving in a staff position. The commander alone is responsible for what the command does or fails to do.

Command is more art than science because it requires judgment and depends on actions only human beings can perform. The art of command comprises the creative and skillful exercise of authority through timely decision making and leadership. Commanders constantly use judgment gained from experience and training to delegate authority, make decisions, determine the appropriate degree of control, and allocate resources. Proficiency in the art of command stems from years of schooling, self-development, introspection, and operational and training experiences. It also requires a deep understanding of the science of war.

The basic techniques of command do not change between echelons. However, direct leadership within a command decreases as the level of command increases, and applying organizational leadership as described in ADP 6-22 becomes more relevant. Officers prepare for higher command by developing and exercising their skills when commanding at lower levels.

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ELEMENTS OF COMMAND The elements of command are authority, responsibility, decision making, and leadership. The definition of command refers explicitly to authority. With authority comes the responsibility to carry forward an assigned task to a successful conclusion. Commanders exercise their authority by making decisions and leading their command in implementation of those decisions. Successful commanders develop skill in each element through maturity, experience, and education. AUTHORITY Authority is the right and power to judge, act, or command. Legal authority to enforce orders under the law is a key aspect of command and distinguishes military commanders from staff officers, and civilian leaders. Commanders understand that operations affect and are affected by human interactions. As such, they seek to establish personal authority. A commander’s personal authority reinforces that commander’s legal authority. Personal authority ultimately arises from the actions of commanders and the resulting trust and confidence generated by these actions. Commanders earn respect and trust by upholding laws, adhering to the Army ethic, applying Army leadership principles, and demonstrating tactical and technical expertise.

Assuming Command: General Ridgway Takes Eighth Army

After secretly crossing the Yalu River in mid-October 1950, the Chinese 13th Army Group launched its first offensive against United Nations forces on 25 October. By the end of November, the 13th Army Group had pushed most of the Eighth U.S. Army out of northwest Korea. By mid-December, the Eighth Army had retreated south of the 38th Parallel. To add to the United Nations forces’ troubles, the Eighth Army commander, GEN Walton Walker, was killed in a jeep accident on 23 December. Back in Virginia while visiting friends before Christmas, then Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, GEN Matthew Ridgway, recalls the phone call he received from the Army Chief of Staff, GEN Joe Collins. “Matt, “he said, “I’m sorry to tell you that Johnny Walker has been killed in a jeep accident in Korea. I want you to get your things together and get out there just as soon as you can.” In his book, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway, GEN Ridgway describes his initial thoughts on assuming command of the Eighth Army: Quickly I ran over in my mind all that I knew of the situation. As Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, the map of Korea had become as familiar to me as the lines in my hand. I knew our strength, and our weakness. I knew personally all the top commanders in Eighth Army, except General Oliver Smith of the 1st Marine Division, and from what I knew of him, I knew I could depend on him implicitly. Armed with this background knowledge, what should I do? Quickly, a pattern of action took place in my mind. First, of course, I would report to General MacArthur, and receive from him his estimate of the situation and broad general directives concerning operations. Next, I would assume command—and this, I knew, must be done in one simple, brief, sincere statement which would convey to Eighth Army my supreme confidence that it could turn and face and fight and defeat the Chinese horde that had sprung so suddenly from beyond the Yalu. Once this was done, I would meet with Eighth Army staff and get from them their appraisal of the situation. After that, I would call on every commander in his battle area, look into his face and the faces of his men, and form my own opinion of his firmness and resolution—or the lack thereof. Once these things were done, then I could begin to plan, could make the big decision whether to stand and hold, or to attack.”

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Under GEN Ridgway's leadership, the Chinese offensive was slowed and finally brought to a halt at the battles of Chipyong-ni and Wonju. He then led his troops in Operation Thunderbolt, a counter-offensive in early 1951. Commanders may delegate authority to subordinates to accomplish a mission or assist in fulfilling their responsibilities. This includes delegating authority to members of their staffs. Delegation allows subordinates to decide and act for their commander, or in their commander’s name, in specified areas. When delegating authority, commanders still remain accountable to their superiors for mission accomplishment, for the lives and care of their Soldiers, and for effectively using Army resources. Therefore, commanders use judgment in determining how much authority to delegate. RESPONSIBILITY Commanders are legally and ethically accountable for the decisions they make or do not make, and for the actions, accomplishments, and failures of their subordinates. Commanders may delegate authority, but they still retain overall accountability for the actions of their commands. Command responsibilities include mission accomplishment; the health, welfare, morale, and discipline of Soldiers; and the use and maintenance of resources. In most cases, these responsibilities do not conflict; however, the responsibility for mission accomplishment sometimes conflicts with the responsibility for Soldiers or the stewardship of resources. The importance of the mission informs commanders how much risk to Soldiers and equipment to accept. When there is conflict among the three, mission accomplishment comes before Soldiers, and Soldiers come before concerns for resources. Commanders try to keep such conflicts to an absolute minimum. DECISION MAKING The commander must permit freedom of action to his subordinates insofar that this does not endanger the whole scheme. He must not surrender to them those decisions for which he alone is responsible. German Field Service Regulation, Truppen Fuhrung (1935) Decision making involves applying both the art and science of war. Many aspects of military operations—movement rates, fuels consumption, weapons effects—can be reduced to numbers, calculations, and tables. They belong to the science of war and are important to understanding what is possible with the resources available. Other aspects—the impact of leadership, complexity of operations, and uncertainty about the enemy—belong to the art of war. Successful commanders focus the most attention on those aspects belonging to the art of war. For Army forces, decision making focuses on selecting a course of action that is most favorable to accomplishing the mission. Decision making can be deliberate, using the military decision-making process and a full staff, or decision making can be done very quickly by the commander alone. A commander’s decisions ultimately guide the actions of the force. Decision making requires knowing if, when, and what to decide as well as understanding the consequences of that decision. Critical to decision making is the ability to make decisions without perfect information, knowing when enough information allows acceptable decisions, and the willingness to act on imperfect information. Striking the balance between acting now with imperfect information and acting later with better information is essential to the art of command.

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Understanding Success in operations demands timely and effective decisions based on applying judgment to available information and knowledge. As such, commanders and staffs seek to build and maintain situational understanding throughout an operation. Situational understanding is the product of applying analysis and judgment to relevant information to determine the relationships among the operational and mission variables. Situational understanding allows commanders to make effective decisions and regulate the actions of their force with plans appropriate for the situation. It enables commanders and staffs to assess operations accurately. Commanders and staffs continually strive to maintain their situational understanding and work through periods of reduced understanding as a situation evolves. Effective commanders accept that uncertainty can never be eliminated, and they train their staffs and subordinates to function in uncertain environments. Knowledge management and information management assist commanders with progressively adding meaning at each level of processing and analyzing to help build and maintain their situational understanding. Knowledge management and information management are interrelated activities that support commanders' decision making. There are four levels of meaning. From the lowest level to the highest level, they include data, information, knowledge, and understanding. At the lowest level, processing transforms data into information. Analysis then refines information into knowledge. Commanders and staffs then apply judgment to transform knowledge into understanding. Commanders and staffs continue a progressive development of learning, as organizations and individuals assign meaning and value at each level. (See figure 2-1.)

Figure 2-1. Achieving understanding

In the context of decision making, data consists of unprocessed observations detected by a collector of any kind (human, mechanical, or electronic). In typical organizations, data often flows to command posts from subordinate units. Subordinate units push data to inform higher headquarters of events that facilitate situational understanding. Data can be quantified, stored, and organized in files and databases; however, data only becomes useful when processed into information. In the context of decision making, information is data that has been organized and processed in order to provide context for further analysis. The amount of information that is available makes managing information and using it to make effective decisions critical to success during operations. Commanders and staffs apply experience and judgment to information to gain shared understanding of events and conditions in which they make decisions during operations. Effective command and control requires further developing information into knowledge so commanders can achieve understanding In the context of decision making, knowledge is information that has been analyzed and evaluated for operational implications. It is also comprehension gained through study, experience, practice, and human interaction that provides the basis for expertise and skilled judgment. Staffs work to improve and share tacit and explicit knowledge. Tacit knowledge resides in an individual's mind. It is the purview of individuals, not technology. All individuals have a unique, personal store of knowledge gained from experience, training, and other people. This knowledge includes an appreciation for nuances, subtleties, and work-arounds. Intuition,

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mental agility, effective responses to crises, and the ability to adapt are forms of tacit knowledge. Leaders use tacit knowledge, their own and that of their subordinates, to solve complex problems and make decisions. Explicit knowledge consists of information that can be organized, applied, and transferred using digital (such as computer files) or non-digital (such as paper) means. Explicit knowledge lends itself to rules, limits, and precise meanings. Examples of explicit knowledge include doctrinal publications, orders, and databases. Explicit knowledge is primarily used to support situational awareness and shared understanding as it applies to decision making. In the context of decision making, understanding is knowledge that has been synthesized and had judgment applied to comprehend the situation's inner relationships, enable decision making, and drive action. Understanding is judgment applied to knowledge in the context of a particular situation. Understanding is knowing enough about the situation to change it by applying action. Judgment is based on experience, expertise, and intuition. Ideally, true understanding should be the basis for decisions. However, uncertainty and time preclude achieving perfect understanding before deciding and acting. (See chapter 3 for more information on knowledge management and information management.) Critical and Creative Thinking Commanders and staffs apply critical and creative thinking, including ethical reasoning, to decision making. Critical thinking examines a problem in depth from multiple points of view. It determines whether adequate justification exists to accept conclusions as true based on a given inference or argument. Critical thinkers apply judgment about what to believe or what to do in response to facts, experience, or arguments. Creative thinking involves thinking in new, innovative ways using imagination, insight, and different ideas. Leaders often face unfamiliar problems or old problems requiring new solutions. Even situations that appear familiar require creative solutions, since an enemy force will adapt to past friendly approaches. Leaders look at different options to solve problems using lessons from similar circumstances in the past, as well as innovative approaches that come from new ideas. Creatively combining old and new ideas can create difficult dilemmas for an enemy force. Commanders choose a decision-making approach based on the situation. There are generally two approaches to making decisions: analytic and intuitive. In certain situations, commanders may take a more deliberate approach, using systematic analysis. In other situations, commanders may rely heavily on intuition. Effective commanders consider their experience, their staff’s experience, and the time and information available when considering their decision-making approach. Analytic Decision Making Analytic decision making generates several alternative solutions, compares those solutions to a set of criteria, and selects the best course of action. It aims to produce the optimal solution by comparing options. It emphasizes analytic reasoning guided by experience, and commanders use it when time is available. This approach offers several advantages. Analytic decision making— Is methodical and allows the breakdown of tasks into recognizable elements. Ensures commanders consider, analyze, and evaluate relevant factors and employ techniques such as war- gaming. Provides a systematic approach when a decision involves processing large amounts of information. Helps resolve conflicts among courses of action. Gives inexperienced personnel a logically structured approach.

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Analytic decision making presents some disadvantages. It is often time-consuming, relies on large amounts of information, and requires clearly established evaluation criteria. While it is methodical, changes in conditions may require a complete reevaluation, which could delay decisions. When using this approach, commanders weigh the need for analysis against time considerations. Analytic decision making is not appropriate for all situations, especially during execution, when forces must adapt to rapidly changing situations. (An example of analytic decision making is the military decision-making process found in FM 6-0.) Intuitive Decision Making

Intuition depends on the use of experience to recognize key patterns that indicate the dynamics of the situation. Because patterns can be subtle, people often cannot describe what they noticed, or how they judged a situation as typical or atypical.

Gary Klein, Sources of Power Intuitive decision making is reaching a conclusion in a way that is not expressly known by the decision maker. It normally involves pattern recognition based on knowledge, judgment, experience, education, intelligence, boldness, perception, and character. Intuitive decision making— Focuses on assessment of the situation more than on comparing multiple options. Usually results in a decision for an acceptable course of action instead of the optimal course of action derived from an analytical approach. May be more effective when time is short. Relies on a commander’s experience and ability to recognize the key elements and implications of a particular problem or situation. Tends to focus on the larger picture more than on individual components. Intuitive decision making is faster than analytic decision making, but it requires an adequate level of experience to recognize an acceptable course of action. There is a difference between sound intuition and uninformed assumptions. When using intuitive decision making, leaders should be aware of their own biases and the differences between their current operational environment and those they experienced in the past. By emphasizing experienced judgment over deliberate analysis, commanders increase tempo and retain flexibility to deal with uncertainty. The intuitive approach is consistent with the fact that there are no perfect solutions to battlefield problems. Even when making intuitive decisions, commanders may have time available to employ more analytic techniques. Time permitting, commanders use their staffs to validate intuitive decisions to ensure they are feasible, acceptable, and suitable. In practice, the two approaches are rarely mutually exclusive. When time is not critical, commanders use an analytical approach or incorporate analysis into their intuitive decisions. Commanders blend intuitive and analytic decision making to help them remain objective and make timely, effective decisions. Commanders avoid making decisions purely by intuition and incorporate analysis into their intuitive decisions. Commanders seek as much analysis as possible within the time available. In situations requiring immediate decisions, this analysis may be no more than the commander’s own rapid mental development, analysis, and selection of a course of action—which may appear completely intuitive. Combining both approaches best accounts for the many factors that affect decisions. An example of an approach that combines analytic and intuitive decision making is the rapid decision-making and synchronization process found in FM 6-0.

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Judgment

Despite the years of thought and oceans of ink which have been devoted to the elucidation of war its secrets still remain shrouded in mystery….War is an art and as such is not susceptible of explanation by fixed formulae. Yet from the earliest time there has been an unending effort to subject its complex and emotional structure to dissection, to enunciate rules for its waging, to make tangible its intangibility.

General George S. Patton, Jr. Commanders make decisions using judgment acquired from experience, training, and study. Experience contributes to judgment by providing a basis for rapidly identifying practical courses of actions and dismissing impractical ones. Commanders use judgment to assess information, situations, or circumstances shrewdly and draw feasible conclusions. Skilled judgment helps commanders form sound opinions and make sensible decisions. Judgment is required for selecting the critical time and place to act. Commanders act by assigning missions, prioritizing, managing risk, allocating resources, and leading. Thorough knowledge of the science of war, a strong ethical sense, and an understanding of enemy and friendly capabilities form the basis of the judgment commanders require. Judgment becomes more refined as commanders become more experienced. Increasing their knowledge, developing their intellect, and gaining experience allow commanders to develop the greater judgment required for increased responsibilities. In addition to decision-making, commanders apply their judgment to— Identify, accept, and mitigate risk. Delegate authority. Prioritize resources. Direct the staff. Identify, Mitigate, and Accept Risk Commanders use judgment when identifying risk by deciding how much risk to accept, mitigating risk where possible, and managing the risk they must accept. They accept risk when seizing opportunities. They reduce risk with foresight and planning, while regularly examining any assumptions associated with previous risk-related decisions. Consideration of risk begins during planning as commanders and staffs assess risk, including ethical risk, for each course of action and propose control measures. They collaborate and integrate input from subordinates, staff, and unified action partners. They determine how to mitigate identified risks. This includes delegating management of certain risks to subordinate commanders who in turn develop appropriate mitigation measures. Commanders then allocate the resources they deem appropriate to mitigate risks. Commanders must continuously assess how risk may be accumulating over time as operations progress, both at their own echelon as well as for their subordinates. Changes in the nature of an operation, the number and types of tasks assigned, available combat power, or changes in the threat may all change the level of risk subordinates must mitigate and accept. A series of discrete decisions about seemingly unrelated issues can, over time, potentially change the level of risk in ways that are not readily apparent to a commander. However, this cumulative risk may be understood by one or more subordinates directly impacted by changing conditions or new decisions. It is therefore critical that commanders clearly

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communicate risk concerns to higher and lower echelons to ensure shared understanding and informed decision making. Assumptions initially made during planning may change or compound over time, raising the level of risk. Risks that were acceptable in one context and based on one set of assumptions may be untenable when the context of the operation changes. In some instances, the situation may change to the point that a commander needs to take action to adjust the level of risk subordinate commanders are required to take when the perceived benefit no longer outweighs the likely cost. For example, a unit performing in an economy of force role with a particular task organization may be directed to detach additional units to support other efforts to the point where it can no longer effectively accomplish its mission. The higher level commander is unlikely to have sufficient situational awareness to understand precisely when the threshold of acceptable risk for mission accomplishment has been crossed without a continuous dialogue with that subordinate commander. It is as much the responsibility of the subordinate to keep higher echelons informed as it is the responsibility of the higher level commander to seek risk analysis from the subordinate. Inculcating risk acceptance goes hand in hand with creating an environment where subordinates are not only encouraged to take risks, but also one where mistakes are tolerated. Commanders realize that subordinates may not accomplish all tasks initially and that errors may occur. Commanders train subordinates to act within the commander’s intent in uncertain situations. Commanders give subordinates the latitude to make mistakes and learn. During training, commanders might allow subordinates to execute an excessively risky tactical decision, keeping the safety of Soldiers in mind, as a teaching point. They then instruct subordinates afterward on how to determine a more appropriate level of tactical risk. This sort of coaching helps commanders gain trust in their subordinates’ judgment and initiative, and it builds subordinates’ trust in their commander. During operations, commanders may need to intervene when a subordinate accepts tactical risk that exceeds the benefits expected.

Risk Acceptance: OPERATION HAWTHORN, Dak To, Vietnam

At 0230, 7 June 1966, a battalion of the 24th NVA (North Vietnamese Army) Regiment attacked an artillery firebase manned by elements of 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, beginning the battle of Dak To. While the forces at the firebase defeated this attack, two battalions of the 101st Airborne were lifted in by helicopters to envelop the 24th NVA Regiment in the Dak To area. One battalion, 1/327th, attacked north up Dak Tan Kan valley, while the other, 2/502d, attacked toward the south. The 1/327th encountered the NVA first and fixed them. The 2/502d established a blocking position initially but then began a sweep south to link up with 1/327th. The 2/502d used its famous “checkerboard” technique in its advance, breaking down into small units, with squad-size patrols searching designated areas into which the battalion had divided its area of operations. This technique covered ground, but the squads were too weak to face stiff opposition. Company commanders had to assess indicators, decide when they indicated the presence of heavy enemy forces, and assemble their companies for action. As C Company advanced on 12 June, its commander, CPT William Carpenter Jr., sensed those indicators and concentrated his company, but it was surrounded and in danger of being overrun by an estimated NVA battalion. As he spoke to his battalion commander, LTC Hank Emerson (“the Gunfighter”), the sounds of the screaming, charging enemy could be heard over the radio. CPT Carpenter reportedly called for an air strike “right on top of us.” The only air support available was armed with napalm; when it hit, it broke the enemy attack and saved the company. A day later, another company linked up with C Company, and they continued the mission. The battle of Dak To was a staggering

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defeat for the NVA. CPT Carpenter’s action can be considered a necessary risk. The survival of his force was at stake. The NVA would have destroyed C Company before another company could relieve it. CPT Carpenter later stated privately that he realized the survival of his company was at stake, but that he did not actually call the air strike directly in on his position. Instead, he told the forward air controller to use the smoke marking his company’s position as the aiming point for the air strike. He knew that using conventional air strike techniques and safe distances would not defeat the enemy. He also reasoned that the napalm would “splash” forward of his position, causing more enemy than friendly casualties. The air strike did just that. Thus, CPT Carpenter exercised judgment based on experience. CPT Carpenter believed he was taking a high risk from the standpoint of troop safety. But he accepted that risk, made a decision, and acted. His actions saved his company and contributed to a major NVA defeat. CPT Carpenter and his first sergeant, 1SG Walter Sabaulaski, received the Distinguished Service Cross for their heroism. Delegate Authority

If it is necessary for a commander to interfere constantly with a subordinate, one or the other should be relieved.

Field Marshal Richard Michael Carver Commanders use judgment to determine how much authority to delegate to subordinates and how much they are able to decentralize execution. Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their personal oversight of delegated tasks based on their assessment of the skill and experience of their subordinates. When delegating authority to subordinates, commanders do everything to ensure subordinates can accomplish their missions. Resources include people, units, services, supplies, equipment, networks, information, and time. Commanders allocate resources through task organization and established priorities of support. Under the mission command approach, delegated authority is proportional to the extent of commanders’ trust in the abilities of their subordinates. Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their personal involvement in delegated tasks based on their assessment of the competence and experience of their subordinates. Ideally, once commanders delegate authority, they supervise to the minimum level required to ensure subordinates’ and mission success. Commanders delegate authority verbally, in writing through plans, orders, or standard operating procedures, or by both methods. Examples of delegated authority are authority over an area of expertise or technical specialty, a geographic area, or specific kinds of actions. Commanders may limit delegated authority in time, or they may use an enduring approach. Commanders should ensure members of the command, especially the staff and subordinate commanders, understand to whom and what authorities have been delegated. Delegation not only applies to subordinate commanders but also to members of the staff. Prioritize Resources Commanders allocate resources to accomplish the mission. Allocating resources requires judgment because resources can be limited. Considerations for prioritizing resources include how to— Effectively accomplish the mission. Protect the lives of Soldiers. Apply the principles of mass and economy of force. Posture their force for subsequent operations.

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The primary consideration for allocating resources is how their use contributes to effective mission accomplishment. Commanders do not determine how to accomplish a mission based on conserving resources or giving all subordinates an equal share; they allocate resources efficiently to ensure effectiveness. The objective—to accomplish the mission—guides every element of operations. A plan that does not accomplish the mission, regardless of how well it conserves resources, is not effective. The next priority is to protect the lives of Soldiers. Commanders determine how to protect the lives of Soldiers before considering how to conserve material resources. They use material resources generously to save lives. If there are different but equally effective ways to accomplish the mission, a commander considers ways which use fewer resources. The third aspect of resource allocation is based on two of the principles of war—mass and economy of force. The principle of mass means that commanders always weight the main effort with the greatest possible combat power to overwhelm an enemy force and ensure mission accomplishment. Economy of force refers to allocating the minimum essential combat power to all supporting efforts. Supporting efforts typically receive fewer resources than the main effort. Commanders must accept risk in supporting efforts in order to weight the main effort. Commanders determine the amount of combat power essential to each task and allocate sufficient resources to accomplish it. When allocating resources, commanders consider the cost to the force and the effects of the current operation on the ability to execute follow-on operations. If subordinates believe they have not received adequate resources, or believe accomplishing their mission would produce an unacceptable cost to the force, they inform their commander. The commander then decides whether to accept risk, allocate more resources, or change the plan. The fourth aspect of applying judgment to resource allocation concerns posturing the force for subsequent operations. Commanders balance immediate mission accomplishment with resource requirements for subsequent operations. Commanders accomplish their missions at the least cost to the force, so they do not impair its ability to conduct follow-on operations. They visualize short-term and long-term effects of their resource use and determine priorities. At lower echelons, commanders focus more on the immediate operation—the short term. At progressively higher echelons, commanders give more consideration to long-term operations. Direct the Staff Commanders rely on and expect initiative from the staff as much as from subordinate commanders. Delegating authority allows commanders to use their time for the more creative aspects of command (the art). Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their personal involvement in staff activities based on their assessment of the skill and experience of their subordinates. This assessment requires skilled judgment. Within their headquarters, commanders exercise their judgment to determine when to intervene and participate personally in staff operations, as opposed to letting their staffs operate on their own based on guidance. Commanders cannot do everything themselves or make every decision; such participation does not give staffs the experience mission command requires. However, commanders cannot simply approve staff products produced without their input. Commanders participate in staff work where it is necessary to guide their staffs. They use their situational understanding and commander’s visualization to provide guidance from which their staffs produce plans and orders. In deciding when and where to interact with subordinates, the key is for commanders to determine where they can best use their limited time to greatest effect—where their personal intervention will pay the greatest dividend.

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LEADERSHIP

As each man’s strengths gives out, as it no longer responds to his will, the inertia of the whole gradually comes to rest on the commander’s will alone. The ardor of his spirit must rekindle the flame of purpose in all others; his inward fire must revive their hope.

Carl von Clausewitz Leadership is the activity of influencing people by providing purpose, direction, and motivation to accomplish the mission and improve the organization (ADP 6-22). Leadership involves taking responsibility for decisions, being loyal to subordinates, inspiring and directing assigned forces and resources toward a purposeful end, establishing a team climate that engenders success, demonstrating moral and physical courage in the face of adversity, and providing the vision that both focuses and anticipates the future course of events. Leadership requires the attributes and competencies that describe what leaders are expected to be. (See ADP 6-22 for more information on Army leadership.) Professional competence, personality, and the will of strong commanders represent a significant part of any unit’s combat power. While leadership requirements differ with unit size and type, all leaders must demonstrate character and ethical standards. Leaders must know and understand their subordinates. They must act with courage and conviction in battle. Leaders build trust and teamwork. During operations they know where to be to make decisions or to influence the action by their personal presence. Commanders recognize that military operations take a toll on the moral, physical, and mental stamina of the people making up their formations. They understand that experience, interpersonal relationships, and the environment influence the people conducting operations. Leaders account for these factors when motivating people to accomplish tasks in the face of danger and hardship. Setting a good personal example is critical to effective leadership. Commanders are both leaders and followers. Being a responsible subordinate is part of being a good leader. Responsible subordinates support the chain of command and ensure their command supports the larger organization and its purpose. Successful commanders recognize the responsibilities they and their subordinates have to the next higher echelon and the larger formation overall. Commanders know the status of their forces. Command sergeants major, first sergeants, and platoon sergeants play vital roles in providing commanders awareness about the morale and physical condition of their Soldiers. Commanders need to know when circumstances may prevent friendly forces from performing to their full potential. For example, a subordinate unit may have recently received inexperienced replacements, may have lost cohesion due to leader casualties, or may be extremely fatigued due to an extended period of operations. Commanders press the fight tenaciously and aggressively. They accept risks and push Soldiers to the limits of their endurance for as long as possible to retain the operational initiative. They act aggressively to exploit fleeting opportunities. Effective commanders recognize when to push Soldiers to their limits and when to let them rest to prevent individual and collective collapse. Even the most successful combat actions can render units incapable of further operations.

Leadership is an important component of mitigating the effects of stress. Stress is an integral part of military service in general and in combat operations in particular. Leaders must learn to mitigate stress for their subordinates and cope with it themselves. (See ATP 6-22.5 for more information on combat and operational stress control). Two aspects of leadership that are unique to command are command presence and the location of the commander.

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Command Presence Command presence is the influence commanders have on those around them through their personal demeanor, appearance, and conduct. It requires contact with others, both physically and through voice command and control systems. Commanders use their presence to gather and share information and assess operations through personal interaction with subordinates. Establishing command presence makes the commander’s knowledge and experience available to subordinates and provides encouragement. It allows commanders to assess intangibles like morale, and provide direct feedback on subordinate performance. Commanders employing the mission command approach ask questions without second- guessing their subordinate’s performance unless absolutely necessary. Skilled commanders communicate tactical and technical knowledge that goes beyond plans and procedures. Command presence establishes a background for all plans and procedures so that subordinates can understand how and when to adapt them to achieve the commander’s intent. Commanders can establish command presence in a variety of ways, including— Being seen and heard. Sharing risk and hardship. Setting a good personal example. Ensuring their commander’s intent is widely understood. Providing clear face-to-face commander’s guidance. Backbriefs and rehearsals. Directly engaging subordinates and staffs allows commanders to motivate, build trust and confidence, exchange information, and assess the human aspects of operations. It allows commanders to assess the morale and stamina of subordinate units. Commanders use their presence to overcome uncertainty and chaos and maintain the focus of their forces. They communicate in a variety of ways, adjusting their communication style to fit the situation and the audience. They communicate both formally and informally, through questions, discussions, conversations, and other direct or indirect communication. Commanders position themselves where they can best command without losing the ability to respond to changing situations. Location of the Commander

One of the most valuable qualities of a commander is a flair for putting himself in the right place at the vital time.

Field Marshal Sir William Slim Commanders command from their personal location. One of the fundamental dilemmas facing all commanders is where to position themselves during operations. As far as conditions allow, commanders should be forward where they can be seen and heard to best influence the decisive operation or main effort. Commanding forward allows commanders to assess the state of operations face to face with their subordinates and achieve shared understanding. It allows them to gather as much information as possible about actual combat conditions when making decisions. However, commanding forward does not mean taking over a subordinate’s responsibilities. Commanders consider their position in relation to the forces they command and the mission. Their location can have important consequences, not only for the command but also for executing operations. The command and control system helps commanders position themselves forward without losing access to the information and analysis available from their command posts. At the lowest levels, commanders lead by personal example, acquire much information themselves, decide personally, and communicate face to face with those they direct. Typically, they position

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themselves well forward to directly influence the decisive operation. However, even at these levels, commanders cannot always command their whole unit directly. In larger tactical- and operational-level commands, command posts are normally the focus of information flow and planning. However, commanders cannot always visualize the battlefield to direct and synchronize operations from command posts. Commanders often assess the situation up front, face to face with subordinate commanders and their units. Commanders employ their command and control system so they can position themselves wherever they can best command without losing the situational understanding that enables them respond to opportunities and changing circumstances. The command and control system allows commanders to obtain the information they need to assess operations and risks, and make necessary adjustments, from anywhere in an area of operations. Commanders realize that they might not always be where the critical action is occurring. This probability reinforces the necessity of training subordinates to operate using the mission command approach. Commanders can then rely on subordinates to restore or exploit the situation without their presence or personal intervention. Where a commander is located can bring the leadership element of combat power directly to an operation, especially when that location allows for personal presence and the ability to directly observe events and see things that might not be conveyed by the command and control system. Being physically present can allow a commander to assess a much broader set of indicators of the unit’s condition. Commanders gain firsthand appreciation for the human aspects of a situation that can rarely be gained any other way. Equally important, commanders can actually see terrain and weather conditions which might not be clearly explained by maps or whether reports. They can avoid the delays and distortions that occur as information travels down and up the chain of command. Finally, by their presence, commanders direct emphasis to critical spots and focus efforts on them. Some of the factors that influence a commander’s location include— The need to understand the situation. The need to make decisions. The need to communicate. The need to motivate subordinates. The commander’s forward presence demonstrates a willingness to share danger and hardship. It also allows commanders to appraise for themselves a subordinate unit’s condition, including its leaders’ and Soldiers’ morale. Forward presence allows commanders to sense the human aspects of conflict, particularly when fear and fatigue reduce effectiveness. Commanders cannot let the perceived advantages of improved information technology compromise their obligation to personally lead by example. Face-to-face discussions and forward presence allow commanders to see things that may not be conveyed by the command and control system.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading C ADP 5-0 Chapter 5: Excerpt

Author: US Army

Estimation of the situation is, however, a continuous process, and changed conditions may, at any time, call for a new decision.

FM 100-5, Operations (1941) This chapter defines assessment and describes its fundamentals. It describes an assessment process and concludes with guides for effective assessment. FUNDAMENTALS OF ASSESSMENT 5-1. Assessment is the determination of the progress toward accomplishing a task, creating a condition, or achieving an objective (JP 3-0). Assessment is a continuous activity of the operations process that supports decision making by ascertaining progress of the operation for the purpose of developing and refining plans and for making operations more effective. Assessment results enhance the commander’s decision making and help the commander and the staff to keep pace with constantly changing situations. 5-2. Assessment involves deliberately comparing intended outcomes with actual events to determine the overall effectiveness of force employment. More specifically, assessment helps the commander determine progress toward attaining the desired end state, achieving objectives, and performing tasks. Through professional military judgment, assessment helps answer the following questions: Where are we? What happened? Why do we think it happened? So what? What are the likely future opportunities and risks? What do we need to do? 5-3. Assessment precedes and guides the other activities of the operations process. During planning, assessment focuses on understanding an OE and building an assessment plan. During preparation, the focus of assessment switches to discerning changes in the situation and the force’s readiness to execute operations. During execution, assessment involves deliberately comparing forecasted outcomes to actual events while using indicators to judge operational progress towards success. Assessment during execution helps commanders determine whether changes in the operation are necessary to take advantage of opportunities or to counter unexpected threats. 5-4. The situation and echelon dictate the focus and methods leaders use to assess. Assessment occurs at all echelons. Normally, commanders assess those specific operations or tasks that they were directed to accomplish. This properly focuses collection and assessment at each echelon, reduces redundancy, and enhances the efficiency of the overall assessment process.

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5-5. For units with a staff, assessment becomes more formal at each higher echelon. Assessment resources (to include staff officer expertise and time available) proportionally increase from battalion to brigade, division, corps, and theater army. The analytic resources and level of expertise of staffs available at higher echelon headquarters include a dedicated core group of analysts. This group specializes in operations research and systems analysis, formal assessment plans, and various assessment products. Division, corps, and theater army headquarters, for example, have dedicated plans, future operations, and current operations integration cells. They have larger intelligence staffs and more staff officers trained in operations research and systems analysis. Assessment at brigade echelon and lower is usually less formal, often relying on direct observations and the judgment of commanders and their staffs. 5-6. For small units (those without a staff), assessment is mostly informal. Small-unit leaders focus on assessing their unit’s readiness—personnel, equipment, supplies, and morale—and their unit’s ability to perform assigned tasks. Leaders also determine whether the unit has attained task proficiency. If those tasks have not produced the desired results, leaders explore why they have not and consider what improvements could be made for unit operations. As they assess and learn, small units change their tactics, techniques, and procedures based on west echelons in the Army follow the assessment process. ASSESSMENT ACTIVITIES 5-7. The situation and type of operations affect the characteristics of assessment. During large-scale combat, assessment tends to be rapid, focused on the level of destruction of enemy units, terrain gained or lost, objectives secured, and the status of the friendly force to include sustainment. In other situations, such as counterinsurgency, assessment is less tangible. Assessing the level of security in an area or the level of the population’s support for the government is challenging. Identifying what and how to assess requires significant effort from the commander and staff. 5-8. Whether conducting major combat operations or operations dominated by stability tasks, assessment consists of the major activities shown in figure 5-1. These activities include— Monitoring the current situation to collect relevant information. Evaluating progress toward attaining end state conditions, achieving objectives, and performing tasks. Recommending or directing action for improvement.

Figure 5-1. Activities of assessment

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MONITORING 5-9. Monitoring is continuous observation of those conditions relevant to the current operation. Monitoring allows staffs to collect relevant information, specifically that information about the current situation described in the commander’s intent and concept of operations. Commanders cannot judge progress nor make effective decisions without an accurate understanding of the current situation. 5-10. CCIRs and associated information requirements focus the staff’s monitoring activities and prioritize the unit’s collection efforts. Information requirements concerning the enemy, terrain and weather, and civil considerations are identified and assigned priorities through reconnaissance and surveillance. Operations officers use friendly reports to coordinate other assessment-related information requirements. 5-11. Staffs monitor and collect information from the common operational picture and friendly reports. This information includes operational and intelligence summaries from subordinate, higher, and adjacent headquarters and communications and reports from liaison teams. Staffs also identify information sources outside military channels and monitor their reports. These other channels might include products from civilian, host-nation, and other government agencies. Staffs apply information management and knowledge management to facilitate disseminating this information to the right people at the right time. 5-12. Staff sections record relevant information in running estimates. Staff sections maintain a continuous assessment of current operations as a basis to determine if operations are proceeding according to the operations. In their running estimates, staff sections use this new information and these updated facts and assumptions as the basis for evaluation. EVALUATING

While attrition formed an important element of American strategy in Vietnam, it hardly served as the guiding principle. Westmoreland believed that destroying enemy forces would help lead to larger political ends. Even before Westmoreland’s tenure, MACV [Military Advisory Command Vietnam] had realized that quantitative reporting of enemy kills insufficiently measured progress in an unconventional environment. Body counts did not necessarily produce reliable qualitative assessments of the enemy’s military and political strength.

Gregory A. Daddis 5-13. The staff analyzes relevant information collected through monitoring to evaluate the operation’s progress. Evaluating is using indicators to judge progress toward desired conditions and determining why the current degree of progress exists. Evaluation is at the heart of the assessment process where most of the analysis occurs. Evaluation helps commanders determine what is and what is not working, and it helps them gain insights into how to better accomplish the mission. 5-14. In the context of assessment, an indicator is a specific piece of information that infers the condition, state, or existence of something, and provides a reliable means to ascertain performance or effectiveness (JP 5-0). Indicators should be— Relevant—bear a direct relationship to a task, effect, object, or end state condition. Observable—collectable so that changes can be detected and measured or evaluated. Responsive—signify changes in the OE in time to enable effective decision making.

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Resourced—collection assets and staff resources are identified to observe and evaluate. 5-15. The two types of indicators commonly used in assessment include measures of performance (MOPs) and measures of effectiveness (MOEs). A measure of performance is an indicator used to measure a friendly action that is tied to measuring task accomplishment (JP 5-0). MOPs help answer questions such as “Was the action taken?” or “Were the tasks completed to standard?” A MOP confirms or denies that a task has been properly performed. MOPs are commonly found and tracked at all levels in execution matrixes. MOPs help to answer the question “Are we doing things right?” 5-16. At the most basic level, every Soldier assigned a task maintains a formal or informal checklist to track task completion. The status of those tasks and subtasks are MOPs. Similarly, operations consist of a series of collective tasks sequenced in time, space, and purpose to accomplish missions. Current operations integration cells use MOPs in execution matrixes, checklists, and running estimates to track completed tasks. Staffs use MOPs as a primary element of battle tracking with a focus on the friendly force. Evaluating skill accomplishment using MOPs is relatively straightforward and often results in a “yes” or “no” answer. 5-17. A measure of effectiveness is an indicator used to measure a current system state, with change indicated by comparing multiple observations over time (JP 5-0). MOEs help measure changes in conditions, both positive and negative. MOEs help to answer the question “Are we doing the right things?” MOEs are commonly found and tracked in formal assessment plans. 5-18. Evaluation includes analysis of why progress is or is not being made. Commanders and staffs propose and consider possible causes. In particular, they address the question of whether or not changes in the situation can be attributed to friendly actions. Commanders consult subject matter experts, both internal and external to the staff, on whether their staffs have correctly identified the underlying causes for specific changes in the situation. These experts challenge key facts and assumptions identified in the planning process to determine if the facts and assumptions are still relevant or valid. 5-19. Evaluating also includes considering whether the desired conditions have changed, are no longer achievable, or are not achievable through the current operational approach. Staffs continually challenge the key assumption is invalidated, then reframing may be in order. RECOMMENDING OR DIRECTING ACTION 5-20. Monitoring and evaluating are critical activities; however, assessment is incomplete without recommending or directing action. Assessment may reveal problems, but unless it results in recommended adjustments, its use to the commander is limited. Ideally, recommendations highlight ways to improve the effectiveness of operations and plans by informing all decisions. (See paragraph 5-29 for a list of potential recommendations.) 5-21. Based on the evaluation of progress, the staff brainstorms possible improvements to the plan and makes preliminary judgments about the relative merit of those changes. Staff members identify those changes possessing sufficient merit and provide them as recommendations to the commander or make adjustments within their delegated authority. Recommendations to the commander range from

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continuing the operation as planned, to executing a branch, or to making unanticipated adjustments. Making adjustments includes assigning new tasks to subordinates, reprioritizing support, adjusting information collection assets, and significantly modifying the COA. Commanders integrate recommendations from the staff, subordinate commanders, and other partners with their personal assessments. Using those recommendations, they decide if and how to modify the operation to better accomplish the mission. 5-22. Assessment helps identify threats, suggests improvements to effectiveness, and reveals opportunities. The staff presents the results and conclusions of its assessments and recommendations to the commander as an operation develops. Just as the staff devotes time to analysis and evaluation, so too must it make timely, complete, and actionable recommendations. The chief of staff or executive officer ensures the staff completes recommendations in time to affect the operation and for information to reach the commander when needed. Measures of Effectiveness: OPERATION SUPPORT HOPE Mission statements can serve as a primary source from which to develop measures of effectiveness. The first and most urgent task facing planners for OPERATION SUPPORT HOPE in Rwanda, July 1994, was the directive to “stop the dying” from the U.S. Commander in Chief, Europe. Initial action focused on the massive refugee deaths from cholera around Goma, Zaire. The joint task force commander decided to measure effectiveness by whether refugee camp death rates dropped to the level the United Nations determined was consistent with “normal” camp operations. A related mission requirement was to open Kigali airfield for 24-hour operations. Success for this requirement was measured by statistical data that showed the surge in airfield use and cargo throughput after American forces arrived. Both measures of effectiveness derived from the mission statement the operation to communicate progress to all participants.

ASSESSMENT PROCESS 5-23. There is no single way to conduct assessment. Every situation has its own distinctive challenges, making every assessment unique. The following steps can help guide the development of an effective assessment plan and assessment activities during preparation and execution: Step 1 – Develop the assessment approach (planning). Step 2 – Develop the assessment plan (planning). Step 3 – Collect information and intelligence (preparation and execution). Step 4 – Analyze information and intelligence (preparation and execution). Step 5 – Communicate feedback and recommendations (preparation and execution). Step 6 – Adapt plans or operations (planning and execution). (See ATP 5-0.3 for a detailed discussion of each step of the assessment process.) STEP 1 – DEVELOP THE ASSESSMENT APPROACH 5-24. Assessment begins in planning as the commander identifies the operation’s end state, operational approach, and associated objectives and tasks. Concurrently, the staff begins to develop an assessment approach by identifying specific information needed to monitor and analyze conditions associated with attaining the operation’s end state, achieving objectives, and accomplishing tasks. In doing so, the staff tries to answer the following questions:

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How will we know we are creating the desired conditions? What information do we need? Who is best postured to provide that information? 5-25. If a higher headquarters assessment plan exists, the staff aligns applicable elements of that assessment plan to the plan they are developing. The assessment approach becomes the framework for the assessment plan and will continue to mature through plan development. The assessment approach should identify the information and intelligence needed to assess progress and inform decision making. STEP 2 – DEVELOP THE ASSESSMENT PLAN 5-26. This step overlaps Step 1. It focuses on developing a plan to monitor and collect necessary information and intelligence to inform decision making throughout execution. The assessment plan should link end state conditions, objectives, and tasks to observable key indicators. This plan also should include specific staff responsibilities to monitor, collect, and analyze information as well as develop recommendations and assessment products as required. STEP 3 – COLLECT INFORMATION 5-27. Staffs collect relevant information throughout planning and execution. They refine and adapt information collection requirements as the operations progresses. Staffs and subordinate commands provide information during execution through applicable battle rhythm events and reports. Intelligence staffs continually provide updates about the situation to include information about the enemy, terrain, and civil considerations. STEP 4 – ANALYZE INFORMATION AND INTELLIGENCE 5-28. Analysis seeks to identify positive or negative movement toward achieving objectives or attaining end state conditions. Accurate analysis seeks to identify trends and changes that significantly impact the operation. Based on this analysis, the staff estimates the effects of force employment and resource allocation; determines whether forces have achieved their objectives; or realizes that a decision point has emerged. 5-29. Recommendations generated by staff analyses regarding achievement of the objective or attainment of the desired end state conditions, force employment, resource allocation, validity of planning assumptions, and decision points should enable the staff to develop recommendations for consideration. Recommendations can include the following: Update, change, add, or remove critical assumptions. Transition between phases. Execute branches or sequels. Change resource allocation. Adjust objectives or end state conditions. Change or add tasks to subordinate units. Adjust priorities. Change priorities of effort. Change command relationships. Change task organizations.

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Adjust decision points. Refine or update assessment plan. STEP 5 – COMMUNICATE FEEDBACK AND RECOMMENDATIONS 5-30. Assessment products contain recommendations for the commander based upon the commander’s guidance. Regardless of quality and effort, the assessment process is limited if the communication of its results is deficient or inconsistent with the commander’s personal style of assimilating information and making decisions. Additionally, there may be a requirement to provide input to higher headquarters assessments in which the requirements and feedback could be within a different construct. STEP 6 – ADAPT PLANS OR OPERATIONS 5-31. Commanders direct changes or provide additional guidance that dictate updates or modifications to operations to drive progress of operations to objectives and end state conditions. Staffs capture the commander’s decisions and guidance to ensure forces take necessary actions. As the operation evolves, the assessment plan will evolve as well. GUIDES TO EFFECTIVE ASSESSMENT 5-32. Throughout the conduct of operations, commanders integrate their own assessments with those of the staff, subordinate commanders, and other unified action partners in the AO. The following guides aid in effective assessment: Commander involvement. Integration. Incorporation of the logic of the plan. Caution when establishing cause and effect. COMMANDER INVOLVEMENT 5-33. The commander’s involvement in operation assessment is essential. The assessment plan should focus on the information and intelligence that directly support the commander’s decision making. Commanders establish priorities for assessment in their planning guidance and CCIRs. By prioritizing the effort, commanders guide the staff’s analysis efforts. Committing valuable time and energy to developing excessive and time-consuming assessment schemes squanders resources better devoted to other operations process activities. Commanders reject the tendency to measure something just because it is measurable. Effective commanders avoid burdening subordinates and staffs with overly detailed assessments and collection tasks. Generally, the echelon conducted should be the echelon at which it is assessed. Commander’s Assessment: Are We Ready to Close on Baghdad Just eight days after crossing the border from Kuwait into Iraq, coalition forces neared the enemy’s outer defensive positions of Baghdad. V Corps had fought its way north from the west side of the Euphrates River as the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) attacked north on the east side. Both forces had weathered a sand storm and logisticians diligently moved supplies, fuel, and ammunition

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forward. Fighting continued along the V Corps line of operations from As Samawah north to An Najaf. Intense fighting was ongoing along the I MEF’s approach from Basra north to An Nasiriyah. On 28 March 2003, General David D. McKiernan, commander of the coalition force land component command, went forward to meet with his commanders, Generals James T. Conway (I MEF) and William S. Wallace (V Corps) in Jalibah. He wanted to hear directly from his subordinates concerning their “stance” for the transition from the march up-country to closing on Baghdad. The meeting began with McKiernan providing his assessment of enemy forces and results of war gaming from his staff. He then asked some key questions to his commanders, including their satisfaction with the level of risk along the lines of communications back to Kuwait. Both Wallace and Conway had some concerns they believed they needed to address prior to crossing the “red line” that referred to entering the inner defensive cordon outside of Baghdad. Wallace briefed his plan for a series of attacks designed to set the conditions for the assault to isolate Baghdad. McKiernan asked what he needed to set that stance. Wallace responded by saying he needed to position the corps by 31 March to launch his attacks on 1 April. Conway noted that the I MEF was undertaking “a systematic reduction of the bad guys in An Nasiriya” and he wanted 1 United Kingdom Armored Division to execute some “pinpoint armor strikes” in Basra. Conway also noted that Colonel Joe Dowdy (1st Regimental Combat Team commander) was in “a 270- degree fight.” After hearing his commanders, McKiernan decided to “take time to clean up and make sure we have the right stance in our battlespace before we commit into the Baghdad fight, because once we commit to the Baghdad fight, we can’t stop.” Supported by the assessment of hi a transition to set conditions to isolate Baghdad. INTEGRATION 5-34. Assessment requires integration. Assessing progress is the responsibility of all staff sections and not the purview of any one staff section or command post cell. Each staff section assesses the operation from its specific area of expertise. However, these staff sections must coordinate and integrate their individual assessments and associated recommendations across the warfighting functions to produce comprehensive assessments for the commander, particularly in protracted operations. They do this in the assessment working group. 5-35. Most assessment working groups are at higher echelons (division and above) and are more likely to be required in protracted operations. Normally, the frequency of meetings is part of a unit’s battle rhythm. The staff, however, does not wait for a scheduled working group to inform the commander on issues that require immediate attention. Nor does the staff wait to take action in those areas within its delegated authority. 5-36. The assessment working group is cross-functional by design and includes membership from across the staff, liaison personnel, and other unified action partners outside the headquarters. Commanders direct the chief of staff, executive officer, or a staff section leader to run the assessment working group. Typically, the operations officer, plans officer, or senior operations research and systems analysis staff section serves as the staff lead for the assessment working group.

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5-37. Developing an assessment plan occurs concurrently within the steps of the MDMP. The resulting assessment plan should support the command’s battle rhythm. The frequency with which the assessment working group meets depends on the situation. Additionally, the assessment working group may present its findings and recommendations to the commander for decision. Subordinate commanders may participate and provide their assessments of operations and recommendations along with the staff. Commanders combine these assessments with their personal assessment, consider recommendations, and then direct changes to improve performance and better accomplish the mission. INCORPORATION OF THE LOGIC OF THE PLAN 5-38. Effective assessment relies on an accurate understanding of the logic (reasoning) used to build the plan. Each plan is built on assumptions and an operational approach. The reasons or logic as to why the commander believes the plan will produce the desired results become important considerations when staffs determine how to assess operations. Recording, understanding, and making this logic explicit helps the staffs recommend the appropriate MOEs and MOPs for assessing the operation. CAUTION WHEN ESTABLISHING CAUSE AND EFFECT 5-39. Although establishing cause and effect is sometimes difficult, it is crucial to effective assessment. Sometimes, establishing causality between actions and their effects can be relatively straightforward, such as in observing a bomb destroy a bridge. In other instances, especially regarding changes in human behavior, attitudes, and perceptions, establishing links between cause and effect proves difficult. Commanders and staffs must guard against drawing erroneous conclusions in these instances.

L412

Developing Leadership Capacity

AY 2021–2022

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

Advance Sheet for L412

Developing Leadership Capacity

1. SCOPE

The Army recognizes leadership as an element of combat power in FM 3-0 and reinforces the idea in ADP 3-0. This lesson examines how organizational level leaders develop leadership capacity in organizations to enhance combat power. The Army’s primary quality shaping tool is the leader development process, described in broad terms in the Army Leader Development Strategy 2013. This strategy for developing competent leaders’ focuses on individual leader development tasks and skills; overlooking details on building leadership capacity. Since 2006, “Develops Others” is the lowest rated Army leader competency in the Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL), often by a very wide margin. Almost half the respondents on the 2012-2018 surveys did not believe their superiors showed genuine concern when it came to developing their followers’ leadership skills. There are varieties of reasons for this perception among subordinates. One of the likely reasons is a lack of understanding of what respondents considered leadership development. Often individuals do not recognize training opportunities or experiences as developmental activities and as essential parts of the leadership development process. In other words, subordinates fail to attach meaning to the experience. Meaning making is the process people go through to interpret, understand, or make sense of life events. Often, meaning making involves creating a personal understanding of the event’s relevance to the participant. In this lesson, you explore the importance of meaning making to developing leadership capacity in organizations.

Another insight from the CASAL survey was respondents believe that despite what is perceived as

inconsistent developmental efforts of commanders, leaders continue to “learn by doing,” i.e., gather lessons from experience. This belief in the significance of experiential learning is consistent with the Army’s paradigm of the importance of gaining experience in the operational domain. In this lesson, you explore the capacity for leadership development at the organizational level in the operational domain. Specifically, you examine the commanders’ role in developing others, the use of experience as a developmental tool for learning, and the process of making sense of learning experiences at the organizational level.

As a result of this lesson, you gain a better understanding of leadership development at the

organizational level as a learning process that, when done purposefully, creates adaptive, innovative, and self-directed leaders through experiential learning and meaning making. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in developing organizations. This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO 10.2 Action: Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain.

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Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes— 1. Explain the commander’s role in developing others. 2. Explain the role of experience in developmental learning; and 3. Explain the process of meaning making. Learning Domain: Cognitive, Level of Learning: Comprehension CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. The L412 advance sheet and readings are located in Blackboard. b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement: Read: L412RA: Boylan, Steven A., “A Framework for Leadership Development.” Command and

General Staff College (Fort Leavenworth) (June, 2021). [7 pages] L412RB: 2018 CAL Annual Survey of Army Leadership: Military and Civilian Leader Findings

Technical Report 2019-1 (May 2019). Read the executive summary pages iv –xvi [11 pages]. The 11 page executive summary and summary of findings provides an excellent overview of the complete report.

L412RC: Case Study, Adaptive Leadership: Harold G. “Hal” Moore, The Art of Command: Military Leadership from George Washington to Colin Powell 2nd ed, The University Press of Kentucky, 2017, pages 232-303 [11 pages]

Review: L106RA: The Learning Organization Primer. For additional readings on this topic, consider: United States. Army, ALDS: Army Leader Development Strategy 2013. By Raymond F.

Chandler, Raymond T. Odierno, and John M. McHugh. The ALDS covers the three domains of institutional, operational, and self-development. The operational domain responsibilities listed in Annex F dovetail closely with the concepts covered in L206RA.

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McCall, Morgan W. "Recasting Leadership Development." Industrial and Organizational Psychology 3, no. 1 (2010). The reading provides an excellent discussion on the importance of experience in developing leaders.

Crissman, Douglas C. “Improving the Leader Development Experience in Army Units.” Military Review May-June 2013 [10 pages]. Located on Blackboard. Provides a discussion of lines of effort in the area of leader development.

(2) Second Requirement: Case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the AOC

leadership lessons area. This is a study aid. Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the case. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in the case study. The worksheet is located in Blackboard under the L400 area.

(3) Third Requirement: Reflective Questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

– What is the relationship between a culture of learning and leadership development?

– Why are challenging experiences so important from a developmental perspective?

– How do you know if you are learning the right lessons from experience?

– How do you evaluate the leadership development process in an organization?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access: L412, advance sheet and readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

The instructor assesses your performance in L412 as part of the end of AOC leadership essay. During

class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading A A Framework for Leadership Development

Author: Dr. Steven Boylan

Leadership encompasses all types of organizations, including for profit, not-for-profit, governmental, and the US military. The Army requires its leaders to provide leadership at various levels in a variety of situations, from preparing to deploy to combat, actions in combat, redeployment, and continuing the cycle for the next deployment. Throughout these processes Army organizations continue to change and grow. A key component of that growth must include Army leadership development.

Background and 2018 Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL) Study The 2018 CASAL identified trends, starting in 2005, in the area of leadership development. CASAL results indicate that only two-thirds of uniformed leaders and 57% of civilian respondents assess the command climate in their unit or organization as positive or very positive. Trust is an important contributor to a positive command climate, in addition to the quality and effectiveness of leaders and the enforcement and upholding of standards (CASAL, 2018, vi). The concept of developing others stands out as a trend, with less than 75% of the Army leadership rated as effective in developing their subordinates according to study results. A leaders’ effectiveness in the competency, develops others, includes behaviors such as providing performance counseling and informal feedback to help subordinates improve their current skills and prepare for future assignments. According to CASAL results, performance counseling is inconsistently applied by Army leaders and has marginal or no impact on a subordinate leaders’ development. Informal feedback is provided, at least occasionally, by most superiors. This type of feedback tends to focus more on performance of duties and less on how to improve or prepare for future responsibilities. In a survey of over 25,000 global leaders, Sinar and colleagues (2018) found that when 75% of performance management discussions focused on developmental planning, leader engagement and retention increased (CASAL, 2018, xi). The survey also indicated those individuals who rate their superior ineffective in develops others are also unlikely to have a mentor, which is another leader development area of concern.

Leader development appears to be a moderate level of priority at the unit and organizational level. Approximately 33% of survey respondents indicated there was no formal plan or published information for leader development. The findings also indicated that most leaders look to the institutional Army for schools and self-development to fulfill the role of leader development programs (CASAL, 2018). If trends from the CASAL study and the findings from other studies continue, the potential for a significant undermining of the [institution] organization could occur over time if left unchecked. In the worst case, the lack of meaningful developmental feedback impacts the ability of the organization to effectively meet its missions in the future as they operate in complex environments, and at worst case inhibits the growth of its future leaders. Richardson (2011) summed up the issue when he stated that leadership within the Army has difficulty going beyond that of being a positional figure within the chain of command. The Army’s leadership typically does not provide for transformational leadership in an environment that is safe, and also fails to foster learning to solve complex and adaptive problems (Richardson, 2011). This is important for the Army’s leaders and for leadership development.

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US Army Leadership Doctrine and Leadership Development Concepts Organizational leadership is not only required within business or corporate entities and civilian organizations, but is also a requirement for the Army in positional roles at the battalion and higher level organizations. Organizations spend vast sums of money on leadership development each year, with costs of education and training in leadership development increasing (Peters, Baum & Stephens, 2011). Leadership development remains important based upon the amount of resources devoted to prepare organizational leaders for current and future requirements (Peters, et al., 2011). Multi-billion dollar investments for leadership development receive criticism by both academia and practitioner communities because of their inability to positively affect individuals who require training and education in leadership development to meet the needs of their organizations (Goldman, Wesner, Plack, Manikoth, & Haywood, 2014). The US Army’s leadership doctrine provides the basis to support leadership development planning, education, and training. However, it is not sufficient to meet the needs at the organizational level of leadership. The US Army divides leadership into three distinct categories of direct, organizational, and strategic levels. According to Army doctrine, direct level leadership resides below battalion level organizations (Department of the Army, 2013). Organizational leadership begins at the battalion and higher level organizations, with more authorities and responsibilities to accomplish organizational and higher goals and missions, whereas strategic leadership resides at the national and international level linked to national strategic goals (Commander and Staff Organizational and Operations, 2014; Department of the Army, 2013; Department of the Army, 2015). According to the General Accounting Office (2004), the Army is a hierarchical organization requiring strong and competent organizational leaders and leadership to accomplish its missions and maintain the US national security interests. Organizational level leadership involves more complexity within the type and scope of organizations, while still using some direct level leadership traits and characteristics (Army Regulation 600-100, 2007). Priorities at the organizational level also shift to issues of greater uncertainty, multiple priorities, development of long-range vision, and organizational goals (Army Regulation 600-100, 2007; Commander and Staff Organizational and Operations, 2014; Department of the Army, 2013; Department of the Army, 2015). The literature on leadership development is vast and contradictory. Some of the most developmental research findings from 2000–2010 focused on problems that included goals and goal setting, investment in people, and needs of the organization. Important to the individual leadership development phase is the critical components of understanding individual goals (Olivares, 2008). According to Mahsud, Yukl, and Prussia (2011), an important part of leadership development is the development of human capital. Human capital accounts for the values the organization gains from the contributions of leaders, and the tacit knowledge gained from leaders. According to Leskiw and Singh (2007), for success in leadership development, a system that encompasses formal training and action learning is necessary to support the organizations goals. An organizational leadership learning system should develop leadership opportunities through action learning, positive relationships, and a feedback system for continuous improvement. As the research grew, researchers added thought into what leadership is and what a leader exhibiting leadership does, specific to the position of leader. As an organization, the US Army trains and operates in an environment that is complex and ever changing. This places its leaders in dynamic and fluid situations requiring not only leadership, but development of its leaders prior to the activities in which the leaders find themselves. Leader development for the military is not unlike civilian organizations competing in the global marketplace, competing in their own dynamic and fluid situations and complex environments. According to Amanchukwu, Stanley and Ololube (2015), the variety of circumstances leaders find themselves in are a

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wide range of simple, to very complex, characteristics that affect the performance of individuals and leaders.

Kolb (1984) and Mcleod, (2017) posit that learning involves the acquisition of abstract concepts that assists individuals in relating their knowledge and mental understanding to actual problems or events where the teacher directs and enables learning. Kolb (1984) offered that the experiential learning theory (ELT) is a process that creates knowledge through transforming of experiences, and knowledge is a result of merging, clutching, and transforming experiences. As we have all most likely experienced, the setting or environment for learning can include classrooms, labs, studios, or other like areas that serve as stages to foster learning in a more controlled setting. However, when provided the opportunities to learn in the actual environmental situations, learning is enhanced according to Wurdinger and Carlson (2010). For leadership development to succeed, organizations and leaders must provide a system or process that allows what Leskiw and Singh (2007) describe as action learning. Mezirow (1997) offers the transformative learning theory that assists individuals in making meaning out of a body of experiences equaling associations, concepts, perceptions, cognition, and feelings. He further divides his frame of reference into instrumental learning that includes empirical testing that leads to the truth, and communicative learning that involves the individual’s ability to understand purposes, values, beliefs, and feelings (Mezirow, 1997). This concept links to an organizational leadership system, process, or even a framework that provides leadership opportunities that mirror the meaning-making framework (see Figure 1). Olivares (2008) noted that for individual leadership development, one must understand the needs and critical components of an individual’s goals in relation to leadership development. Mahsud, Yukl and Prussia (2011) provide insights that one of the key elements of leadership development is in the investment by organizations in their human capital. They link the ideas valuing human capital to that of the tacit knowledge gained from the leaders and how the organization learns. The US Army publications such as the Army Leader Development Strategy (ALDS) (2013), Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 6-22 (2019), Field Manual 6-0 Commander and Staff Organizational and Operations (2014), and Field Manual 6-22 Leader Development (2015) provide insights of how the Army views leadership development holistically. It is important to note that very little distinction is made between the direct, organizational, and strategic leadership within the Army publications. Leadership is leadership for the Army as an organization. The US Army’s Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL) studies from 2005–2018 are essential to understand key findings over a period time, concerning leadership trends as perceived by the members of the U.S. Army. Conceptual Framework The conceptual framework depicted (Figure 1) is not found in any Army or Department of Defense (DoD) publication. We developed the framework for a study of the Army’s Leadership Development guided by the Experiential Learning Theory (ELT). Using the ELT as a basis, this framework provides a useful way to conceptualize the operational and institutional aspects of the Army. The framework supports leadership development prior to the need to use the developmental knowledge acquired in organizational leadership positions (Boylan, 2017). Leaders who understand that an organization is comprised of assorted parts that co-exist and work together to achieve a specific set of organizational goals can effectively coordinate programs to benefit the individual and the organization. ELT is a process that assists in formulating knowledge through transforming experiences whereby knowledge is a result of merging, clutching, and transforming our experiences. The Army’s learning environment is a combination of classroom during professional education (known as the institutional domain), the operational domain (which includes being out in units and organizations), and the self-

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development domain. The ELT and meaning-making, or sense-making framework, lends itself to all three domains within the Army. The ELT, along with the integration of the assessment process of the individual leader’s needs and the organizational needs for its leaders, combined with the learning opportunities either available or designed, provide the required experiences to foster the meaning-making cycle of leadership development (Figure 1). When making sense of individual experiences, individuals can have difficulty making sense or attributing meaning to their experiences. Merriam and Caffarella (2007) offered most adults do not develop the ability to make sense of their experiences independently of others’ expectations until well into adulthood. Until the individual is capable, based on time and sufficient experiences, to determine the sense-making elements of their experiences, the individual requires assistance and encouragement according to Ignelzi (2000). When put together with others with more experience, the remainder of the cycle enables how knowledge is transferred within an organization from more experienced to the not as experienced individuals. Expanding this to the organization in transferring knowledge from one part of the organization to another part, it is more than just knowledge management, emails, shared servers, and even discussions. How knowledge is transferred from the individual to the organization is a thoughtful process ideally supported by the organizational climate and a learning organization.

Detailed Explanation of the Framework So, how does this framework work? What follows is a more detailed approach of the framework for your use and consideration. The cycle is an iterative process that occurs as the commander/supervisor determines what is necessary to provide continuous leadership development and growth. For this cycle and the purposes of this article, the focus is the individuals the commander/supervisor directly rates or supervises. There is no expectation that the commander/supervisor attempts to directly develop every individual within the organization personally. It is acknowledged that is not possible. However, if the individual recipients of this framework and development find it useful, we expect them to model the behaviors in this area with those they directly supervise, thereby making this framework an organizational leadership development plan or program.

Figure 1. Leadership development conceptual framework, modified from Experiential Learning: Experience as the Source of Learning and Development, by D. A. Kolb, 1984, p. 141, and An Exploratory Case Study: U.S. Army’s Leadership Development for Organizational Leaders, S.A. Boylan, 2017, p. 22. Approved for public release.

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Supportive Climate: For the supervisor/commander/leader using this framework; an overall supportive climate enables the overall learning. Without a supportive climate, not only is this framework and overall leadership development a challenge to effectively implement, many other programs within the organization exhibits the same challenges. Assessment: During the initial phase of the framework, the supervisor/commander must conduct an assessment of the organization and the individual slated for development. They must use a variety of tools, assessments, documents, etc., to completely inform their initial assessment of the needs of both the individual and organization. Supervisor/Commander: Conducts assessment of the individual and the organization. Individual needs are informed by discussions, officer record briefs (ORB), individual development plans (IDP), observations, career status/timeframe, and goals. These building blocks of information assist the supervisor/commander in their assessment of the individual to determine what learning opportunities are required and what areas of leadership development need focus. Organizational Needs/Desires: Informed by the commander’s assessment, mission, vision, and environment. Potential questions to ask include: What does the organization need? What type of leadership is required? Can they take over command or lead the section/unit in a moment’s notice? Would I want my children being led by them? If not, what can assist them to prepare in the area of leadership? Learning Opportunities: The commander/supervisor determines the learning opportunities. There is no need to add to the already packed and busy organizational schedule. Take advantage of what is already scheduled/occurring within the organization. The learning opportunities vary based on the organization. Be creative in the “what” and “how” to provide the experience in the next phase of the cycle/development. After the assessment of both the individual and organization, including what learning opportunities are available; this information feeds the sense-making cycle. The learning opportunities are the events, meetings, exercises, etc., that become the experiences the individual receives. Leverage routine events to maximize learning and development. Experience: The commander/supervisor/leader determines the experience(s) required based on their assessment of both the individual and organizational needs. What learning opportunities lead to the individual having experiences that facilitate learning via the experiential learning model/theory? These are events or activities, routine or unique. Take advantage of what the organization is already doing or scheduled. Be creative in the experiences provided. During the experience, the observer looks at behaviors, decisions, judgement, actions, etc., that provide the basis for the feedback. Observed Behaviors: Observation is a must for the individual to use it within the sense-making cycle. Typically the commander, supervisor, or leader of the individual is the one observing, but that is not always the case. The key is, the individual facilitating the development receives the information on the observations (observed behaviors discussed above) to provide feedback later as an essential element of the cycle. Feedback: Timing and feedback from the observer is essential. The closer the timeframe from the observations to the feedback provided, facilitates learning. How much time it takes to provide the feedback depends on the amount of feedback required. During this initial feedback, allow the individual to ask questions to clarify any details required to assist in ensuring effective communication of observations. We do not recommend engaging in a lengthy discussion in this stage, as the feedback is new and most likely still being processed by the individual.

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Self-Reflection: This is the opportunity for the individual to think about (reflect) the initial parts of the cycle (experience and the initial feedback provided). The amount of time before the initial discussion that follows depends on the schedule of both involved, as well as the organizational schedule. Do not let the excuse of “no time”, cause you to miss the next steps in the cycle. Recommend no more than a week between these steps so that everything remains fresh. Initial Discussion: During this discussion, the individual comes prepared to discuss their insights from the experience, feedback provided, and their reflection. This is essential in the meaning-making aspects that move into the overall sense-making cycle. Incumbent upon the commander/supervisor/leader is determining what meaning the individual made to this point. Depending on what meaning the individual made, this is the point in which the commander/supervisor/leader assists the individual in ensuring they take the “right” lessons learned and meaning behind what happened, why things happened in the way they did, and what other aspects they can learn from (what tasks did not get accomplished, what other decisions could have been made, why did they decide to do what they did, second/third order of affects, unintended consequences….). The tone (informal instead of formal, such as in counseling) of this discussion is critical; it is a dialogue, and how the conversation is received goes to how well the discussion is received. Planned Changes/Lessons Learned: In this part of the cycle, the individual determines what needs to be different should they find themselves in a similar situation in the future. What would they do differently and why? What did they learn? It is essential the individual clearly understands what learning/meaning occurred in order to move forward. Discussion: In this point of the cycle, another discussion could occur to ensure the individual took the meaning and made sense of their experience, what came from it, and the potential way ahead for the future. This is the last check on learning during this part of the cycle for the specific experience. Make clear to the individual that they should remember what they learned to continue their growth and development. The cycle occurs again with another experience to produce further development and growth or to reinforce the experience as needed. At a point the commander/supervisor/leader determines is appropriate, have the discussion with the individual(s) they are developing on what they are doing to develop their subordinates in leadership. What process are they using? Have they found value in this process if used? If they are finding value, then there is potential of them following the framework much in the same way to develop the leadership capacity of their subordinates, thereby producing over time, an organizational leadership development program/plan. Conclusion As with many organizations, if change does not occur within the culture of the organization, improvement does not occur and is not sustained over time. Change can occur. However, it is usually more reactive than proactive, not thought of in terms of future growth, and not placed within leadership development. In hierarchal organizations, change is normally top down driven. Within the organization, expectations and perception do not normally change unless the view developed and delivered comes from the top. In the end, unless the senior leaders believe something is important, the status quo remains and expectations and perceptions remain the same. This also leads to the potential for hindering mission accomplishment and the development of future organizational leadership. Based on the findings of the study using the US Army’s prior leadership surveys, doctrine, regulations, policies, and the participant’s collective experiences, the doctrine is not fully sufficient (Boylan, 2017). Requirements for significant reviews and new processes ensure continued improvement in organizational leadership development for the future occurs. The specific organizational leadership development requirements, duties, responsibilities, attributes, and characteristics are not specifically

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depicted within the US Army’s doctrine and regulations. This is a shortfall within the US Army. Only two educational courses within the Command and General Staff College specifically conduct organizational leadership development planning within the Advanced Operations Course and one elective. For effective organizational leadership development in the future, the creation of additional doctrine, educational best practices, policies, and regulations require development to bridge the gap between the direct, organizational, and strategic leadership development. The framework provided outlines how Army leaders should include meaning-making and sense-making to effectively plan and conduct leadership development for the future. Although the Army and civilian organizations discuss, train, and foster leadership development to improve their organizations, organizational leadership development is not fully addressed or considered. There are last remaining questions each individual must ask themselves. Are they satisfied to this point on what leadership development they have received till now? If not, then what are they going to do about it? Would they want their children or other family members led by those that they developed?

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading B 2018 CASL Executive Summary

Authors: Center for Army Leadership

Purpose

The Center for Army Leadership’s (CAL) Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL) is a recurring, longitudinal study to capture assessments from the field about leadership and leader development. CASAL has been used to inform senior leaders about leadership quality and associated upward or downward trends since 2005, which enables decision makers and stakeholders to make better informed decisions, course adjustments, or leverage prevailing strengths. CAL accepts data queries submitted by agencies and individuals for further analysis of CASAL results. CASAL findings inform groups such as the Army Profession and Leader Development Forum, Civilian Workforce Transformation, Army Learning Coordination Council, Army Talent Management Task Force, as well as special studies and initiatives conducted by various other organizations.

Readiness remains a top priority for Army senior leaders. The total force must be ready to fight to win, which requires each element to be prepared to perform at its best. Unit readiness is contingent on a number of factors, the most apparent being manpower, resources, and training. Other factors internal and external to the unit also impact readiness, and one of those factors is leadership. Leaders make decisions about resources, personnel, and training in units and organizations, but they also influence the climate within their unit, and the attitudes and behaviors of their unit’s members, which can impact readiness. Leaders energize their followers to accomplish directed and implied tasks and invest in improving their organizations. Given the positive relationships between leadership and many aspects of unit readiness, it is important to assess the effectiveness of Army leaders and leader development. The results of such an assessment can enable decision makers and stakeholders to make better informed decisions, course adjustments, adopt new or revised developmental practices, and leverage prevailing strengths, and thus further advance efforts toward total force readiness.

Method

CAL applies scientifically strong methods to survey development, sampling, data collection, analysis, interpretation, and reporting to obtain accurate and reliable information. CASAL addresses genuine Army leadership and leader development requirements as established by Army regulations and doctrine. Survey items are chosen based on historical tracking of issues, new input from stakeholders in the Army leader development community, and emerging issues identified by CAL. CASAL data were collected from 23 October through 3 December 2018. Survey respondents consisted of 9,514 globally dispersed, active component (AC) and reserve component (RC) Soldiers in the ranks of sergeant through colonel and Army Civilians. Sampling practices generally produced results with a margin of error of ± 4.0% or less for the nearly 600,000 Army leaders represented.1 Data analysis includes assessment of percentages by cohort and ranks, analysis of trends, comparisons across experiences and demographics, coding of short-answer responses, correlations, and regressions. Findings from other surveys and data sources are consulted to check the reliability of CASAL responses.

For most items, percentages are used to convey the relative frequency of respondents who assess leaders or leader development positively and to show trends across time. As an aid in interpretation,

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favorability levels have been set based on past CASAL and other surveys. Studies to determine the levels of risk to mission success found that a threshold of 75% applied to the percentage of unit leaders required to be effective in leadership competencies and attributes to avoid medium or significant chance of mission failure. CASAL’s assessment of leadership behaviors whereby item results receive three-fourths or more favorable responses (i.e., 75% effective plus very effective) are considered positive. Items where favorable responses fall below this threshold and/or receive 20% or more unfavorable responses are considered areas for improvement. Across 13 previous years of CASAL results, several consistent patterns emerged that provide a backdrop to aid understanding of specific findings:

Group percentages indicating favorability of leadership and leader development increase with the

rank and length of service of the respondent. For example, lower- ranking NCOs tend to provide less favorable ratings than do NCOs in higher ranks.

Ratings on items that have greater personal impact (e.g., agreement that your immediate superior is

an effective leader) tend to be more favorable than ratings for items that are less specific (e.g., rating the effectiveness of your superiors as leaders).

Results from AC and RC leaders tend to be similar, within 1% to 3% favorable response on many

items. Meaningful differences are noted where applicable. Army Civilian leaders on average fall below military leaders in terms of favorable leadership ratings.

However, on average, Civilian leaders feel more empowered than military leaders.

Operational experience and self-development are rated as having greater value and impact than formal institutional education (e.g., resident and nonresident courses and schools) for leader development.

The Army Values and professional beliefs tend to be rated more favorably than other leader attributes and competencies.

Summary of Findings Army Working Environment Organizational Climate

Organizational climate encompasses many aspects, including perceptions of unit preparedness, command climate, trust, workload stress, and standards and discipline. Perceptions of unit preparedness are moderately favorable. About two-thirds of Army leaders and three-fourths of Army civilians perceive their unit or organization is well or very well prepared to perform its primary mission, which is consistent with findings from 2017 when this was first assessed by CASAL. Thus, one in four respondents perceive their unit is not well prepared to perform its primary mission. For an Army that is focused on readiness, this finding indicates room for improvement. Of the respondents who indicate their unit is poorly or very poorly prepared for its mission (10-17%), the most commonly cited factors are unit leadership issues to include lack of guidance, poor decision making, not holding Soldiers accountable, and showing favoritism; personnel or manning shortages; deficiencies in unit training or proficiency; lack of equipment, facilities, and/or resources; taskings and other disruptions to the unit’s mission; and the working dynamics within the organization.

Command climate is a factor that affects perceptions of unit preparedness. CASAL results indicate that only two-thirds of uniformed leaders and 57% of civilian respondents assess the command climate in their unit or organization as positive or very positive.

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Trust is an important contributor to a positive command climate, in addition to the quality and effectiveness of leaders and the upholding of standards. Trust is also critical for mission command. The percentages of respondents with favorable perceptions of trust among unit members, trust in their superiors, and trust shown by superiors are only moderate and remain unchanged from previous years. Given the importance of trust, any lack of it has broad negative impacts on leadership, unit climate, and unit readiness. Similar to trust, about two-thirds of respondents agree that standards are upheld, that unit leaders allow or encourage members to learn from honest mistakes, and that unit members are empowered to make decisions pertaining to the performance of their duties.

Related to issues with personnel or manning shortages for unit preparedness, CASAL results indicate high workloads continue to be an issue for a majority of uniformed leaders and Army civilians. Over half of AC and RC leaders (61% and 55%, respectively), and 76% of Army civilians characterize their current workload as high or very high. In addition, one-third of AC leaders (34%) and Army Civilians (32%) report stress from a high workload as a serious or significant problem. Stress from a high workload is one of the significant unit characteristics that contribute to whether a unit is prepared to perform its primary mission. To address these findings, additional resources and support should be provided to leaders on how to prioritize and manage workloads. Leaders should serve as a buffer to subordinates, provide clear and consistent guidance on priorities, as well as delegating and developing subordinates to prepare them to handle increased responsibilities. However, it should be noted that leadership behaviors only explain a small portion of the variance in respondents’ perceived stress from a high workload. Other factors, such as insufficient personnel, time constraints, and lack of resources, have been noted by respondents to contribute to their perceptions of workload stress. Attitudes Toward Assigned Duties and Engagement

Despite the modest views on command climate and trust, higher percentages of Army leaders hold favorable attitudes toward the performance of their assigned duties. Strong commitment remains among the most favorable findings in CASAL, with over 90% of Army leaders agreeing they are committed to their team or immediate work group. Over four-fifths of leaders believe their assigned duties are important to the unit or organization (84%) and know what is expected of them in their positions (82%). Engagement represents the level of commitment leaders have for their organization and the level of initiative they apply to their duties. Levels of engagement remain high and unchanged. If directed appropriately, senior leaders can leverage high levels of commitment and engagement in their subordinate leaders and others to enhance areas that need to be strengthened. Morale, Career Satisfaction, and Intentions to Remain in the Army

Morale is a measure of how people feel about themselves, their team, and their leaders. The percentages of respondents reporting high or very high morale are moderate and stable. Consistent with the trend of moderately favorable perceptions for morale, two-thirds of AC and RC leaders are satisfied with their Army career up to this point. One in five respondents are dissatisfied, which is also consistent with past years. Intentions to remain in the Army until retirement eligibility or beyond remain strong (70% AC and 77% RC plan to stay) for uniformed leaders. About one-third of Army Civilians expect to ascend to a higher level of leadership within the next five years. More than one-fourth of managers (31%) and first-line supervise (27%) expect to retire within the next five years, creating potential concerns for knowledge retention, while also creating opportunity for lower-level civilian leaders to assume new levels of leadership and responsibility.

Together, these findings indicate the working environment within Army units is moderately positive, and should be maintained and addressed to better support unit readiness. As many of the aspects within the working environment are strongly related to the quality and effectiveness of leadership, it is important to examine Army leader strengths and weaknesses.

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Quality of Army Leadership Leadership Quality in Army Units and Organizations

Unit leadership issues was one area cited most frequently by respondents who indicated that their unit was poorly or very poorly prepared to perform its mission. Attitudes toward the quality of leadership in the Army remain relatively positive, with a majority of respondents viewing their superior, peers, and subordinates as effective leaders. However, more than 25% of respondents view their superiors, peers and subordinates as not effective. Levels of satisfaction with the quality of military and civilian leadership remain fairly stable. Larger percentages of Army civilians (67% and 62%, respectively) report satisfaction with the quality of military and civilian leadership in their unit than do uniformed leaders. Army Military Leadership

The U.S. Army has long defined leadership as actions to influence people to accomplish missions and to improve their organizations (ADRP 6-22, 2012e) The Army’s leadership requirements model (LRM) establishes what is expected of Army leaders. The LRM outlines the competencies and attributes that are required by leaders, and CASAL results consistently demonstrate that those leadership requirements significantly predict leader, unit, and subordinate outcomes. Of the 10 core leader competencies and 13 attributes in the LRM, the competencies of Leading Others, Building Trust, and Developing Others, and the attribute of Sound Judgment are the strongest predictors of the extent to which immediate superiors meet subordinate expectations. With the exception of Innovation, 75% or more of respondents indicate their immediate superior is effective or very effective in the attributes; however, less than 75% of respondents indicate their immediate superior is effective or very effective in all but two of the LRM competencies, Gets Results and Prepares Self. The trends in leadership competencies show a leveling off and in some cases a decline in the percentage of leaders who are judged to be effective. In operational terms, the percentage of effective leaders is at a level where there is risk to mission accomplishment as judged by the leaders themselves.

Similar to the findings for the LRM requirements, within the area of mission command, less than 75% of immediate AC superiors are rated favorably on the six mission command principles, with building effective teams (67%) being the lowest rated. Larger percentages of AC and RC leaders tend to be assessed as being well or very well prepared to perform or conduct warfighting tasks associated with unit mission success in comparison to the percentage of leaders who are assessed as effective in the mission command behaviors.

CASAL results consistently demonstrate that leader effectiveness in the core leader competencies and leader attributes is significantly related to organizational outcomes, such as cohesion, capabilities, and discipline of teams, as well as subordinate attitudes that affect mission accomplishment. Prior CASAL findings have indicated that less than three-fourths favorable responses on leadership behaviors (i.e., 75% agreement or effectiveness) could mean elevated risk of unit mission failure. Thus, the consistent finding across a decade of assessment that one in three to one in four Army leaders are not rated effective in most of the competencies, especially those within the Leads category, as well as all six mission command principles, signals potential risks to unit readiness. Army Civilian Leadership

Findings for CASAL indicators regarding the quality of civilian leadership largely mimic the findings for the quality of uniformed leadership. Less than 75% of civilian respondents assess their civilian immediate superior as effective or very effective in all but two of the LRM competencies, Gets Results and Prepares Self. Larger percentages of civilian leaders are assessed favorably on the attributes in

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comparison to the competencies; however, civilian leaders fall short of the three-fourths favorability threshold on four of the 13 attributes. Civilian leaders are also rated below the three-fourths favorability threshold (66%-74%) on mission command behaviors. Given the findings for the quality of both uniformed and civilian leaders and the relationship that effectiveness in the LRM components have on organizational outcomes and subordinate attitudes, there are ample opportunities for leader development to make an impact. Counterproductive Leadership

Counterproductive leadership is defined in Army regulation and doctrine with the intent of describing leadership behaviors and impacts that are not desired and not to be tolerated. Counterproductive leadership involves conduct that decreases followers’ well-being and undermines unit functioning. This is reflected in any leadership activity or attitude that goes against the desired outcomes of positive leadership actions (AR 600-100, 2017c). The presence of counterproductive leadership behaviors in the Army remains low. Since first assessed in 2012, between 5% and 9% of Army leaders (uniformed and civilian) have been assessed as exhibiting a combination of counterproductive leadership behaviors.

Findings continue to affirm that leaders who engage in multiple and recurring counterproductive behaviors are perceived as having adverse effects on command climate; the cohesion, discipline, and capability of the teams and work groups they lead; and the work quality, engagement, and morale of their subordinates. Leaders who effectively Build Trust, demonstrate Sound Judgment, Military and Professional Bearing, and Create a Positive Environment are least often perceived to demonstrate counterproductive leadership behaviors.

Quality of Army Leader Development Military Leader Development

The self-development and the operational domains are viewed by uniformed leaders to be effective in preparing them to assume new levels of leadership or responsibility, while institutional education lags behind in the percentage of uniformed leaders perceiving it as effective. The favorable perceptions of self- development, and operational and job experiences differ by rank and leadership level, with more senior- level leaders perceiving these leader development domains to be effective than junior-level leaders. Time may play a key role in the perceived effectiveness and impact of self-development. While self- development is an expectation and a requirement, less than half of uniformed leaders believe they have sufficient time for self-development in their current assignments.

Leader development practices that are associated with the operational domain have the largest impact on development. These practices include mentoring, on-the-job training, opportunities to lead, learning from peers, deployments. The practices rated as having the lowest impact include developmental counseling from superior, formal leader development in units, 360 degree assessment/feedback, and distributed learning. However, practices, such as 360 degree assessment, that take a modest investment of time and other resources can have a beneficial and worthwhile impact on development.

Leaders’ interests in different types of developmental opportunities and their goals for those opportunities likely depends on where they are in their careers (i.e., their rank group). An understanding of AC and RC leaders’ levels of interest in different leader development outcomes (e.g., attaining degrees and certifications, enhancing leadership skills, completing Army education (PME) requirements) can help inform which outcomes should be made available across a leader’s career, and which outcomes may be more important at certain phases of a career. Those outcomes in which leaders are very or extremely interested include preparing for their next likely assignment (82%); improving their ability to perform the duties in their current position (80%), and enhancing their leadership skills through opportunities for

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increased responsibility (80%). These could be considered universal, as leaders in all rank groups express interest in continued development in these ways. Other outcomes vary by rank and level of responsibility; for example, larger percentages of junior NCOs express interest in all leader development outcomes, including attaining degrees or certifications, and completing PME requirements, compared to other ranks. Civilian Leader Development

As with uniformed leaders, a larger percentage of civilian leaders view self-development and their job experiences to be effective in preparing them to assume new levels of leadership or responsibility in comparison to institutional education. Time for self-development appears to be a greater concern for civilian leaders, as only 38% perceive they have sufficient time for self- development in their current role. The perceived amount of time needed for self-development is influenced by leaders’ interpretation of what comprises self-development, and civilian leaders often consider mandatory training as part of their self-development.

As only one-third of managers and first line supervisors expect to be serving in a higher level of leadership (in the Army) five years from now, this may limit civilian leaders’ perceived need or interest in leader development. For those civilian leaders who do expect to advance to a higher level of leadership, they may approach leader development with greater motivation and a growth mindset. CASAL findings support this premise. Civilian leaders who anticipate being at a higher level of leadership five years from now are significantly more likely to have favorable perceptions of self-development, institutional education (including distributed learning), multi- source 360 degree assessment feedback, and mentoring. Leader’s Role in Development

Leaders’ effectiveness in the Develops Others competency encompasses behaviors such as providing performance counseling and informal feedback to help subordinates improve their current skills and prepare for future assignments. Based on CASAL results, performance counseling is inconsistently applied by Army leaders and tends to be perceived as having small to no impact on leaders’ development. Informal feedback, on the other hand, is provided at least occasionally by most superiors. This type of feedback tends to focus more on performance of duties and less on how to improve or prepare for future responsibilities. In a survey of over 25,000 global leaders, Sinar and colleagues (2018) found that when 75% of performance management discussions were focused on development planning, leader engagement and retention increased. It is recommended that Army senior leaders seek to foster a feedback culture where leaders provide feedback that is more focused on development, but also encourages leaders to solicit feedback from others rather than expecting or waiting for superiors to provide feedback.

While mentoring is the leader development practice that is consistently rated by the most respondents as having a large or great impact on their development, just over half of AC and RC leaders (54-59%) and 28% of Army Civilians report they currently receive mentoring. Mentoring can be especially beneficial for junior leaders, but less than half of junior-level uniformed leaders report having a mentor (42% of AC company grade officers and 46% of junior NCOs).

This finding is especially concerning when it is considered alongside the finding that only 58% of leaders are rated effective or very effective in developing subordinates. If leaders are not being effectively developed by their immediate superiors, one way to fill the gap would be for these leaders to seek development from someone else such as a mentor. However, CASAL results show that those junior leaders who rate their superior ineffective on the competency Develops Others are also less likely to have a mentor. Continuing to foster and promote informal mentoring relationships by removing actual and perceived impediments (e.g., access to senior leaders) and misconceptions (e.g., a mentor must have experience in the same career path that a mentee desires) about mentoring can help address this.

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Army Education

Courses and schools continue to be viewed as providing a good quality of education with effective instructors. However, there are mixed results regarding the degree of rigor and challenge that courses pose to leaders. Fifty-eight percent of recent graduates rate their most recent course effective or very effective at improving their leadership capabilities. While all courses are viewed effective in preparing leaders for teamwork, most junior- to mid-level courses show some room for improvement in preparing leaders for various other characteristics of effective leadership (e.g., developing subordinates, influencing others, taking action in the absence of orders, being technically and tactically proficient). Findings suggest leaders’ operational assignments are perceived by their subordinates to be well prepared to perform a range of warfighting tasks in support of large scale combat operations. Yet, smaller percentages of leaders in these same ranks attribute their proficiency in these warfighting skills to the learning that occurred at their most recent course/school.

Institutional education tends to be an undervalued and underutilized domain for Army Civilians, with slightly more than half of civilian leaders having completed a CES course. Recent graduates of CES courses hold moderate to positive perceptions of their course experience, the quality of the education, and the value to their development. Courses with a resident component (Intermediate Course and Advanced Course) are more often perceived to provide quality education, pose challenge to learners, provide useful and relevant content, improve leadership capabilities, and prepare Army Civilians for leadership. In contrast, courses conducted entirely via DL (Foundation Course, Manager Development Course) are assessed favorably on these indicators by smaller percentages of recent graduates. Unit Training and Leader Development

The priority that units place on leader development remains, in practice, at a moderate level. Yet, relatively few leaders (about 1 in 3) indicate they are aware of a formal plan or published guidance for leader development held by their unit or higher headquarters. Army units and organizations tend to rely on self-development, authorizations for resident school/course attendance, and leader development programs such as OPD/NCOPD to develop leaders.

Methods that capitalize on the learning that occurs in the operational domain are the ones with greatest potential positively impact developing leaders. Greater focus could be paid on engaging leaders in team-building activities or events, emphasizing leader development in collective training, and providing stretch or developmental assignments. These developmental methods, which tend to occur rarely or occasionally in units, integrate leader development into already occurring activities in units.

Unit-based training is a means to prepare units for operations and to practice and improve individual skills of leading and developing others. The percentage of AC leaders rating their unit’s training conducted in the past quarter as effective or very effective for preparing for future mission success has decreased by 3% for each of the past two years, and is currently at 50%. Similarly, the percentage of AC leaders who indicate agreement that unit training is sufficiently challenging to prepare their unit for future mission success has decreased from 52% to 42% between 2016 and 2018. Perceptions of unit training effectiveness differ by rank group, with relatively smaller percentages of junior NCOs and warrant officers responding favorably.

Army results for the Status of Forces Survey (SOFS; Office of People Analytics, 2018) provide supporting evidence for the gradual decrease in the level of favorable attitudes toward unit training in recent years. Within CASAL results, poor unit training, and less than optimal levels of technical/tactical proficiency of unit members were reasons cited by respondents for their unit being poorly or very poorly prepared to perform its mission. In conflict with these moderate ratings for unit-based training

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effectiveness is the positive finding that 72% of respondents rate their immediate superior as well/very well prepared to plan and conduct training for tactical operations. A more in-depth assessment of current unit training practices, specifically to explore junior leaders’ expectations for unit training and where those expectations are or are not being met is recommended.

The combat training center (CTC) program is the cornerstone of an integrated strategy that builds trained and proficient combat-ready units and leaders prepared to win in a complex world (AR 350-50, 2018). Fifty-seven percent of AC leaders and more than one-third in the RC (35%) have participated as part of the training audience at a CTC at least once in their career. Respondents who trained at a CTC within the past 12 months rate the experience effective for improving their leadership skills (71%); for improving their ability to lead the preparation, execution, and assessment of tactical operations (79%); and for improving their unit’s mission readiness (81%). A majority of AC respondents indicate they received effective feedback about their leadership at the CTC (62%), and 73% noted improvement to their subordinates’ leadership skills as a result of the experience. More than half of AC respondents indicate leadership skill improvement was addressed in their rotation’s after action review (AAR; 55%), while smaller percentages of respondents report leadership skill improvement was addressed between OC/Ts and unit leaders in one-on-ones (47%), was part of the leader training program prior to conducting operations in the maneuver training area (40%), or was a training objective for the rotation experience (39%). Conclusions

The Army can stand proud that its leaders are committed to their teams and immediate work groups. Uniformed and civilian members continue to report positive levels of engagement, and intentions to remain in service to the Army are high. The Army should capitalize on this strong commitment and seek to enhance leader development, particularly in the areas of institutional education, leader skills in developing others, mentoring, a culture of informal feedback, and unit training, to increase its levels of unit preparedness, command climate, trust, and leadership effectiveness. If left unaddressed, the reported moderate levels in these areas are positioned to impact unit readiness and hinder the Army from achieving its goal of total force readiness. .

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading C Adaptive Leadership: Harold “Hal” G. Moore

Author: H. R. McMaster

In Command in War, Martin van Creveld notes that "the history of command in war consists of an endless quest for certainty." In the 1990s, consistent with van Creveld's observation, initiatives under the auspices of "defense transformation" sought to achieve "dominant battle space knowledge" to permit commanders to make the right decisions, target the enemy with precision munitions, and even anticipate pate enemy reactions. In 1995, Admiral William A. Owens, the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, predicted that it would soon be possible to "see and understand everything on the battlefield." The vision of future war as lying in the realm of certainty rather than uncertainty, certainty, however, is ahistorical, neglecting the complexity of combat bat and ignoring factors that place certainty in war beyond the reach of emerging technologies. Recent combat operations in Afghanistan and Iraq have exposed flaws in the conceptual foundation for defense transformation. Moreover, they have focused attention on the political, human, psychological, and cultural dimensions of armed conflict, all of which make and keep combat unpredictable. Indeed, philosopher of war Carl von Clausewitz's observation that the uncertainty and complexity of combat demanded leaders who possessed "military genius" seems as relevant today as it did nearly two centuries ago. Clausewitz argued that commanders needed intellect, courage, and determination-the three principal components of military genius-to penetrate "the fog of greater or lesser uncertainty" that surrounds combat. Effectively demonstrating these three traits would enable a leader to adapt when confronted with the unpredictable environment of combat. Lieutenant General Harold G. "Hal" Moore possessed the characteristics of Clausewitz's military genius, and as a lieutenant colonel he demonstrated superior adaptability during one of the most storied battles in American military history, the Battle of la Drang Valley, 14-16 November 1965. The First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry's heroic performance at landing zone X-ray in the la Drang Valley, chronicled in Moore and Joseph L. Galloway's classic book We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young and in the movie We Were Soldiers, revealed the lieutenant colonel's extraordinary ability to adapt to the uncertainties of battle against a vastly larger and very determined enemy. In the ensuing action, the First Battalion killed over six hundred North Vietnamese Army soldiers while losing seventy-nine of its own troopers. Moore's preparation for command, especially his development of the ability to evaluate his environment and make appropriate adjustments, was consistent with Clausewitz's charge that commanders must gain a broad understanding of the nature of combat "to illuminate all phases of warfare through critical inquiry and guide him in his self-inquiry." Moore's career-long preparation, combined with his intellect, courage, age, and determination, enabled him and his battalion to achieve an improbable victory under uncertain conditions. As a seventeen-year-old pursuing an appointment to West Point in 1940, Moore already showed signs of determination and adaptability. Believing his chances of success would be better in Washington, ton,

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DC, than in his native Kentucky, Moore moved to the capital, where he found a job in a Senate office. Two years later, a Kentucky congressman did offer Moore an academy appointment, but to the Naval Academy at Annapolis instead of the Military Academy at West Point. Unwilling to give up, Moore offered an alternative to the representative: if Moore could find a West Point appointee willing to go to the Naval Academy, would the congressman appoint Moore to the West Point opening? The two Kentuckians agreed, and soon after, Moore donned a uniform of cadet gray. Through tenacity and creative thinking, Moore found a way to reach his objective. After graduating from West Point, Moore continued to develop his intellect as a soldier and leader, taking advantage of every opportunity to study the art of war. In addition to operations assignments, his career provided him with opportunities to read and think about the profession of arms. In various assignments he developed operational concepts for future war, taught tactics at West Point, and attended the staff and war colleges. He recognized what British historian Sir Michael E. Howard observed was one of the principal difficulties with which a military professional must contend: "His profession is almost unique in that he may have to exercise it only once in a lifetime, if indeed that often." Moore studied military history as Howard recommended -in width, in depth, and in context. Moore encouraged fellow officers to "read military history" and to consider broadly how warfare had changed over time, as well as to study particular battles in detail to gain an appreciation for the complex causality of events and outcomes. He advocated "visiting battlefields with maps and texts in hand" for that purpose. Indeed, soon after his arrival in Vietnam, having recently read Bernard Fall's Street without joy, an account of French failures in Indochina, Moore and Sergeant Major Basil Plumley visited the site of the June 1954 Viet Minh ambush that destroyed the French army's Mobile Group One Hundred along Route 19 west of An Khe and Pleiku. After visiting the battleground, Moore vowed that he would never underestimate the enemy that his battalion would soon face. Decades later, reflecting on the Battle of la Drang Valley, Moore acknowledged the importance of his earlier preparation: "Everything I'd learned at West Point, my service in the Korean War and the study of leadership in battle, I put into action." Moore's study of military history permitted him to place his own experiences in context to appreciate both their value and their limitations and therefore to better adapt to change. For example, he recognized that the mainly static defensive operations he experienced during the Korean War were largely the result of the war's political context and the lengthy armistice negotiations. After Korea, Moore taught infantry tactics at West Point, attended the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, and served at the Pentagon as "a one-man air mobility branch." In the latter assignment, Moore developed innovative ideas about future conflict that he would put into practice in Vietnam. He had one-on-one discussions with some of the most visionary and experienced senior officers in the army, including generals James M. Gavin and Hamilton H. Howze. Moore helped to develop air mobility concepts designed to increase the tempo of operations and strike the enemy from unexpected angles, all to seize and retain the initiative in battle. Even before experiencing the mainly defensive battles in the latter stage of the Korean War, Moore had experimented with air mobile operations following World War II. As a young lieutenant serving as an assistant operations officer for an airborne regiment, he planned a series of airborne operations on the Japanese island of Hokkaido to confirm that operations officer for an airborne regiment, he planned a series of airborne operations on the Japanese island of Hokkaido to confirm that the Japanese military was no longer using airfields and other military facilities. Moore bridged theory and practice in the fall of 1964, soon after assuming command of the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, at Fort Benning, Georgia. The battalion performed with great distinction during the air mobile tests in the Carolinas. After the Carolina exercises, the army chief of staff asked Moore to teach other officers about the emerging tactics.

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Moore's early commitment to intellectual development enabled him to earn a reputation as one of the most innovative tacticians in the army. Although Moore adapted tactics to technological advances, he was perhaps even more aware of how human nature and psychology contributed to the uncertainties of combat. Moore's view of the human dimension of war was consistent with military historian John Keegan's conclusions on the phenomenon of battle: What battles have in common is human: the behavior of men struggling to reconcile their instinct for self- preservation, their sense of honor and the achievement of some aim over which other men are ready to kill them. The study of battle is therefore always a study of fear and usually of courage; always of leadership, usually of obedience; always of compulsion, , sometimes of insubordination; always of anxiety, sometimes of elation or catharsis; always of uncertainty and doubt, misinformation and misapprehension, usually of faith and sometimes of vision; always of violence, sometimes also of cruelty, self-sacrifice, compassion; above all, it is always a study of solidarity and usually also of disintegration- for it is toward the disintegration of human groups that battle is directed. Moore's close reading of military history as well as his combat experience convinced him that "the personality of a big battle is often formed by small unit actions." He also knew that, in battle, soldiers fought primarily for one another. He believed that determination, discipline, competent leadership, confidence, and cohesion served as bulwarks against fear and unit disintegration. Given the inherent uncertainty certainty of battle, Moore recognized that these traits would enable a unit to adapt to any contingency. He therefore set out to develop those qualities in every unit he commanded, including the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry. Through extensive training, a continuous emphasis on discipline, and dedication to excellence, Moore consciously built an agile unit capable of adapting to unforeseen and difficult conditions. He challenged his soldiers and units to meet high standards. He used physical training, guard mount, and weekly parades to instill discipline and a commitment to excellence. He fostered competition between units and did not permit the display of second-place trophies; in combat, second place is equivalent to losing. Moore even forbade soldiers to faint during parades and held leaders responsible if their soldiers did collapse. Moore set the highest standards for leaders under his command. He removed officers who were unable to meet his expectations but trusted those who proved themselves. Moore spread his adaptive leadership philosophy by decentralizing, or "powering down" authority to subordinates. He taught and practiced "mission orders" and encouraged his junior officers to adjust to the unexpected by making independent decisions. In 1964, just prior to departing for Vietnam, the First Battalion received an influx of green lieutenants. Moore adjusted by developing a specialized training program to ensure that the new platoon leaders had the basic knowledge, skills, and ability to lead their soldiers in battle. Because of the emphasis on air mobility operations, he ensured that all new leaders received capabilities briefings from experienced helicopter pilots. In training, new platoon leaders often found themselves in command of four helicopters when conducting decentralized operations. Moore especially understood the critical role of sergeants in his organization. He told the battalion that Sergeant Major Basil Plumley ley worked directly for him and him only and charged the sergeant major with developing the noncommissioned officers. Moore urged his new lieutenants to respect the experience and knowledge of their sergeants and to learn from them.

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Historian Michael Howard observes that many commanders fail at the beginning of a war because they "take too long to adjust themselves selves to reality, through a lack of hard preliminary thinking about what war would really be like." Moore, however, developed a vision for combat operations in Vietnam that established a basis for adaptation; his battalion's training reflected his forward thinking. During the fourteen months before sailing for Vietnam, his battalion conducted extensive field training exercises, emphasizing helicopter-borne borne air assault operations and the integration of artillery and air support. Moore designed training scenarios to include unpredictable situations, casualties, and extraordinary physical exertion. During the exercises, Moore occasionally declared that a leader had been killed, pulled the man aside, and evaluated the unit's response. He believed that "a squad leader must be ready to command a platoon or the company. While in transit to Vietnam, Moore continued to conduct classes and chalk talks with his officers. His new lieutenants conducted training with their platoons to ensure that they understood how the battalion would fight as a team. Moore designed his training regimen to prepare soldiers and units for the physical and psychological uncertainties of combat in Vietnam. He understood that battle confidence derived from soldiers' trust in their own abilities, in their weapons, in their leaders, and in their unit's ability to fight together and to successfully adapt to the perilous and unpredictable conditions of battle. In short, Moore endeavored to build a "family of fighters.” He strived to develop and preserve a high degree of cohesion in the battalion. Just prior to departing for Vietnam, in addition to gaining many new lieutenants, the battalion lost nearly one hundred men because of expiring enlistments. With combat imminent, Moore and his commanders worked diligently to maintain unit cohesion despite the disruption of losing team members. Colonel John D. Herren, who as a captain commanded B Company in Moore's battalion, recalled that the "unit personality" and high degree of cohesion developed in training enabled the battalion to overcome the loss of key personnel. Still, the ramifications were significant, affecting the unit from captains down to riflemen. As the battalion was deploying to Vietnam, Moore and his staff continued their "hard thinking" about overcoming the unpredictability ability of battle. Unsure about the specifics of their mission, he and his officers planned a contingent combat operation designed to secure cure territory for a primary base. Although never executed, the plan permitted Moore to develop a fundamental understanding of the terrain and the enemy. He held long discussions with then-captain Tony Nadal, who had already served a one- year tour in Vietnam as an advisor to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. Nadal, who became the battalion intelligence officer and later commanded A Company, discussed with Moore the concept of small, helicopter-borne insertions to conduct reconnaissance. They agreed that when contact had been made with the enemy, additional forces would rapidly move in to reinforce the effort and envelop the enemy. Such thoughtful preparation would enable them to exploit opportunities and adapt tactics to developments on the ground. Moore possessed an uncanny ability to visualize operations, an ability he worked to develop throughout his career. As a young captain during the Korean War, he served as a regimental operations officer and an assistant division operations officer, positions usually reserved for the most talented majors in the organization. During that time, he seized the opportunity to observe regimental and battalion commanders. He learned many lessons, including the importance of deliberately studying terrain and conducting continuous reconnaissance. He also learned to form an accurate estimate of the situation from thorough terrain analysis, an understanding of his own force's capability, and an appreciation of the enemy's abilities. Moore came to believe that a commander must continuously think ahead and ask questions. An adaptive leader must anticipate problems and plan countermeasures to preempt them.

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He must also absorb detailed intelligence indicators and revise his estimate of the situation to anticipate enemy actions. Later Moore would give the following advice to commanders: "When there is nothing wrong-there's nothing wrong except-there's nothing wrong! That's exactly when a leader must be most alert." As the First Battalion sailed toward Vietnam, Moore continued to read and think broadly about combat. Captain Nadal brought with him a footlocker of books on Vietnam and counterinsurgency operations. Moore read a third of those books while in transit and held discussions with his officers on a wide range of subjects relevant to their mission. Although those readings did not provide specific tactical solutions, they did inform him on the broad aspects of the mission and the nature of the enemy his battalion would face in Vietnam. Such self-education was consistent with Clausewitz's philosophy. Reading and study do not provide a leader with a "manual for action" but rather a means to "light his way, train his judgment, and help him to avoid pitfalls." In preparation for Vietnam, and across his career, Moore consciously built an intellectual foundation for command. His experience and thinking about war drove his commitment to extensive training, informed the decisions he made in battle, and prepared him to cope with the uncertainties of combat. After emphasizing the "great role intellectual powers play in the higher forms of military genius," Clausewitz turned his attention to courage, which he described as the "soldier's first requirement." He further defined two types of courage: physical "courage in the face of personal danger" and moral "courage to accept responsibility." With advances in communications and transportation technology, an argument often emerges that it is advantageous for leaders to command from locations remote from the battlefield. Advocates of command from the rear believe that physical courage is no longer a vital quality for a commander; distance from the front provides a dispassionate ate and more comprehensive view for decision making. Moreover, they contend, reduced personal danger is an advantage because of the demoralizing effect a commander's loss might have on his soldiers. Moore staunchly opposed the practice of command from the rear. He agreed with British major general J. F. C. Fuller's assessment of "chateau generals" in World War I: A fallacy, which may be largely traced to the telephone, is that the further a commander is in the rear of his men, the more general a view can he obtain, because he will be less influenced by local considerations. It is a fallacy because, within certain limits, the further he is away from moral actualities, and unless he can sense them he will seldom be able fully to reason things out correctly. But supposing him to be a man who cannot control his emotions, and one so influenced by local conditions that they obliterate his intelligence, that is supposing him to be a thoroughly bad general, he will not avoid bird's eve views twenty miles to the rear. For if he does so, on account of his limited self-control he will be as strongly influenced by the rear atmosphere and all it will convey to him, as he would have been by the forward atmosphere had he remained forward to breathe it. Moore recalled that the single most important lesson he learned from studying effective commanders could be summarized in four words: "Lead from the front!" At a time when many commanders believed that the helicopter was the ideal command platform because it afforded a broad view of the battlefield, Moore argued that his duty as commander required him to be forward with his men. He needed to set the example, to share the hardships and dangers, and to assess the situation before making decisions. He explained, "Some commanders used a helicopter as their personal mount. I never believed in that. You had to get on the ground with your troops to see and hear what was happening. You have to soak up firsthand information for your instincts to operate accurately. Besides, it's too easy to be crisp, cool, and

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detached at 1,500 feet; too easy to demand the impossible of your troops; too easy to make mistakes that are fatal only to those souls far below in the mud, the blood, and the confusion." Moore accepted the personal risk. He believed that "any officer or any soldier for that matter, who worries that he will be hit, is a nuisance. The task and your duty come first." Moore typically went into battle with his radio operator on the first helicopter lift. He told his commanders and staff that he needed to be forward "to get the smell of the fight." In the la Drang Valley, Moore organized his staff to maintain a comprehensive estimate even as he remained forward. Captain Gregory "Matt" Dillon operated a tactical command post, often from a helicopter with other critical officers, including the fire support officer, the forward air controller, and a liaison officer from the helicopter lift unit. While Dillon and others of the command post ran the operation, issuing orders and coordinating fires and logistics, Moore focused on command. His commanders and staff knew to provide candid assessments and recommendations to inform his estimates and decisions. An effective commander, Moore believed, needed at least "one or two people under you who are totally trustworthy-who will be honest with you when you are going off track on an issue or situation." Indeed, Moore considered respectful dissent "the essence of loyalty." For candid advice as a battalion and later brigade commander in Vietnam, Moore relied most heavily on Captain Dillon, his operations officer, and Sergeant Major Plumley. Even in intense combat, Moore remained calm and made time to evaluate the situation. He recalled that "in battle, I periodically detached myself mentally for a few seconds from the noise, the screams of the wounded, the explosions, the yelling, the smoke and dust, the intensity of it all and asked myself what am I doing that I should not be doing and what am I not doing that I should be doing to influence the situation in my favor?" Sergeant Major Plumley described "the old man" as a "thinker" who was "always thinking about what was going to happen." As Major General Fuller declared, "A man who cannot think clearly in a bullet zone is more suited for a monastery than the battlefield." Moore was suited for the battlefield. Courage, and the self-composure that it produces, is an essential trait of adaptive leadership. Clausewitz's third quality of military genius, determination, derives rives from, "first, an intellect that, even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth; and second, the courage to follow this faint light wherever it might lead."" This combination of intellect and courage gives great commanders the coup d'oeil that allows "the quick recognition of a truth that the mind would ordinarily miss or would perceive only after long study and reflection." This ability to assess rapidly and accurately a given situation is the essence of adaptability. Captain Nadal believed that Moore was able to sense the appropriate course of action because he recognized the "truth" of a situation; "he knew the nature of a fight." Moore knew that, no matter how long he took to contemplate plate decisions, he would never have all the information or time to remove uncertainty and risk from command in battle. He considered the initial plan for an operation as merely a "springboard into action," after which interaction with the enemy and unanticipated conditions would demand quick decision making and flexibility to seize and retain the initiative. Moore would later advise commanders to "trust your instincts. In a critical, fast- moving battlefield situation, instincts and intuition amount to an instant estimate of the situation. Your instincts are the product of your education, training, reading, personality, and experience.” Clausewitz believed that determination was necessary to "limit the agonies of doubt and the perils of hesitation when the motives for action are inadequate." Similarly, Moore declared that "if my head tells me one thing and my gut tells me something else, I always go with my gut." Moore's performance as commander revealed that he indeed possessed the fortitude of mind and character to permit the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry to defeat a much larger, well-trained, and determined enemy.

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Although it is beyond the scope of this essay to recount the Battle of the la Drang Valley in its entirety, a brief analysis will demonstrate how Moore's preparation of the battalion paid off under fire and how Moore's military genius-his intellect, courage, and determination-manifested itself in his and his battalion's ability to adapt to the exigencies of battle. Moore's anticipation of the mission in la Drang Valley and his preliminary commander's estimate of the situation served as the foundation for his adaptive decision making during the battle. On 12 November 1965, the assistant division commander, Brigadier General al Richard Knowles, visited Moore and mentioned that he would not object to a battalion-sized operation in the la Drang Valley near the Cambodian border. Moore and his staff immediately initiated a map study of the area. Moore recalled that he "ran an endless string of `what ifs' through my mind," including "what I could do to influence the action if the worst-case scenario came to pass." He concluded that he would have to be forward to assess the situation and make rapid decisions. Moore would be the first soldier on the landing zone. At 5:00 PM on 13 November, Moore received a warning order. The battalion responded immediately by consolidating forces in preparation for the operation. Within five hours the battalion completed all necessary preparations. Meanwhile, Moore and his staff formulated a tentative battle plan and arranged for an aerial reconnaissance. Early the next morning, Moore himself conducted the reconnaissance as artillery batteries moved into supporting positions. Moore returned to his command post after selecting the site for landing zone X-ray. He issued only a brief verbal order: the landings would begin at 10:30 AM. Moore recognized that this large, complex operation would be different from the smaller, company- sized operations the battalion had been conducting. The battalion's ability to adjust effectively on short notice to a new mission was a product of its intense air mobility training conducted at Fort Benning and in the Carolinas. The battalion's officers and sergeants knew how to prepare for the operation and how to fight. A lengthy written order was unnecessary. Preliminary intelligence indicated that the battalion was headed for battle with a substantial North Vietnamese force. The aerial reconnaissance naissance Moore ordered identified communications wire crossing a trail just north of the planned landing zone. Intelligence collectors also intercepted a radio transmission emanating from the Chu Pong massif, a large mountain located just west of the landing zone. The transmission, in Mandarin, indicated a large, well-organized force. Moore used those scraps of intelligence to revise his estimate of the situation. Upon arriving at the landing zone, he immediately made adjustments to the plan. He carefully surveyed the terrain. His attention was drawn south and west, where the enemy could use concealed routes to approach the landing zone. He ordered a shift in B Company's mission-an intensification of its reconnaissance to the west of the landing zone on the far side of a creek bed. Shortly after moving out, B Company captured a prisoner who indicated that approximately proximately 1,600 North Vietnamese soldiers were located on the Chu Pong massif and they "very much wanted to kill Americans." At the outset of the fight, the 160 U.S. soldiers who had arrived at the landing zone faced an enemy force ten times that size. Soon B Company was in contact with the vanguard of an enemy force moving toward the landing zone. B Company's mission was to establish contact with the enemy and "hit him before he could hit us." Moore understood the criticality of the terrain. He also had a sense of time and timing. He needed to get the rest of the battalion into the landing zone and control enough ground to establish an effective defense. "Only if we brought the enemy to battle deep in the trees and brush," he recalled, "would we stand even a slim chance of holding on to the clearing and getting the rest of the battalion landed." The commander of B Company, Captain Herren, believed that if Moore had not adapted his tactics and ordered the

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reconnaissance mission on the far side of the creek bed, and if B Company had not "hit the enemy head- on," the North Vietnamese would have moved unimpeded to the landing zone and might have overwhelmed the battalion's lead elements. Moore made other critical decisions as the fight developed, analyzing and then prioritizing actions. He knew that the landing zone was key terrain that had to be defended. He told A Company commander Captain Nadal that "the original plan was out the window." Instead of conducting reconnaissance to the west, Nadal's company would establish defensive positions to block the attacking enemy. Nadal thought that Moore's early decision to send B Company to make contact with the enemy and his subsequent decision to employ ploy A Company in defensive positions "combined aggressiveness with sound judgment."51 When Moore received word that one of B Company's platoons had been cut off, he resisted the temptation to organize an immediate relief effort. Captain Herren maintained that if Moore had committed the remaining companies piecemeal into an offensive relief operation, "the LZ [landing zone] would have been overrun and the integrity of the battalion threatened." Moore's forward location and his ability to make decisions under der uncertain conditions were paramount to the battalion's survival. Captain Nadal's A Company soldiers were in heavy contact with the enemy as soon as they occupied defensive positions. The operations officer, Captain Dillon, who was in a helicopter command post, recalled called that none of the factors on which Moore based his early decisions were discernible from the air. Moore knew that in rapidly changing circumstances, a commander had to "be ahead of the game, be proactive not reactive, see the trends and have confidence in [his] vision." Over the next two days, he made a series of decisions that anticipated enemy actions. Benefiting from his Korean War experience, Moore strengthened defensive positions where he believed the enemy perceived weakness. Unable to be strong everywhere, he accepted risks elsewhere. He applied artillery and aerial fires at critical times and locations. On the second morning of the battle, he formed a reserve and employed it at the critical place and time to defeat a determined enemy attack. Moore also understood that under intense battle conditions he had to do more than make the right decisions; he had to project a calm, positive presence before his soldiers. A desperate fight was developing, and Moore's forward location and the calmness with which he commanded inspired confidence among his soldiers. When Herren's platoons were cut off, Moore deliberately organized artillery and air support. At the most trying moments-when casualties mounted, when the enemy penetrated the defenses, when friendly fire impacted inside the perimeter-Moore remained calm. For Moore, an adaptive commander must exhibit his determination to prevail no matter what the odds or how desperate the situation ... [and] display the WILL, TO WIN by his actions, his words, his tone of voice on the radio and face to face, his appearance, his demeanor, his countenance, the look in his eyes. He must remain calm and cool. NO fear. [He] must ignore the noise, dust, smoke, explosions, screams of the wounded, the yells, the dead lying around him. That is all NORMAL! [He] must never give off any hint or evidence that he is uncertain about a positive outcome, even in the most desperate ate of situations. Again, the principle which must be driven into your own head and the heads of your men is: Three strikes and you're NOT Out! There is always one more thing you can do to influence any situation in your favor. In other words, the commander must be determined to identify alternatives and adapt. Moore was confident that "training and dogged determination, tenacity, and willpower can turn the tide of battle." He believed that "if you think you might lose, you have already lost, in whatever enterprise you are involved

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in." During a lull in the battle, Moore walked the perimeter to look every soldier in the eye, to assess their morale, and to steel their resolve. Moore struck a balance between the desire to be directly involved in the fight and the need to think clearly and anticipate the next action. He decided, for example, against moving with B Company deep into the forest lest he "get pinned down and become simply another rifleman." His operations officer managed the fight, but when necessary, Moore intervened. He later recalled that "until the LZ went hot, Matt Dillon and Mickey Parrish had controlled all the flights into X-Ray from the command chopper overhead. No more. I took control because only I knew where my men were, where the enemy ground fire was coming from, and where the safest spot to land was at any given moment. From this point forward, every helicopter coming into X-Ray would radio me for landing instructions." Just as he developed a sense for the next enemy action, he also knew when to intervene. In retrospect it is clear that Moore's personal preparation for command and his preparation of the battalion were keys to the unit's success in the la Drang Valley. His soldiers and leaders took initiative and demonstrated the courage, determination, confidence, and adaptability necessary to overcome the confusion and fear of battle. As they had done in training, soldiers assumed the responsibilities of those who fell. For example, leadership of B Company's "lost platoon" passed from the platoon leader to the platoon sergeant, to a squad leader, and ultimately to Sergeant Ernie Savage. During those three November days, there were countless other instances of extraordinary heroism and leadership. While Moore displayed the adaptability inherent in the intellect, courage, and determination of Clausewitz's military genius, it is clear that Moore possessed another quality: love for his fellow soldiers. Although though he remained calm and unemotional during the battle, Moore showed emotion when he talked after the battle about his deep respect and affection for his troopers. He had vowed never to leave a fallen trooper behind, and he made good on that promise. He and his wife, Julie, did all they could to comfort the families of those who fell in battle. Moore, along with battlefield reporter Joe Galloway, honored the courageous troopers who fought in the la Drang Valley by telling their story in We Were Soldiers Once, one of the most compelling and moving accounts of men in battle ever written. Moore's performance as an adaptive leader was brilliant. He later commanded his own brigade in Vietnam with great distinction and led his soldiers in highly successful operations. After the war he continued to set the standard by building disciplined and effective units as the commander of the Seventh Infantry Division in Korea and the commander of Fort Ord, California. As the army deputy chief of staff for personnel, his last position in the army, and in retirement, he remained a great teacher who inspired future generations of officers and soldiers. He communicated his message of "good, simple leadership" as well as his love for the American soldier. He lived his own advice: "No matter how high in rank you go, never forget to keep instructing and talking with officers where the rubber meets the road." It is impossible to gauge the influence of a man who was such a successful field commander and a great inspiration to so many. His influence spanned generations in the U.S. Army. Tony Nadal testified to Moore's integrity, his professionalism, his dedication to his family, and his genuine concern for others. He called Moore his "role model for life." Ernie Savage described Moore as a man of "personal, al, moral, and spiritual courage." After Moore spoke to the senior class at the U.S. Military Academy in 2002, one cadet remarked that Moore made him "feel proud [of] becoming an officer and entering into the Army as a profession.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command /Module 1: Deployment Operations/

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Optional Reading A The Learning Organization Primer

Author: Dr. Kevin E. Gentzler Introduction Change comes to organizations for two primary reasons. Many organizations change due to some internal factor which forces new processes or systems on the organization. An example might be new leaders in senior positions or adopting a new human resource management system. Alternatively, outside factors or influences can cause an organization to change, such as increased competition or a new, cheaper product or invention which requires the organization to adapt to a changed market. Becoming a learning organization is, for most organizations, a change. Internal or external influences can create the impetus necessary for the leaders of an organization to see the need to improve organizational learning and the individual learning necessary to support it. The concepts involved in developing a learning organization are more than checklist deep. Leaders cannot put up posters with a proverb or phrase and an inspirational picture and point to that as the tool to become a true learning organization. There is no specific path to follow to become a learning organization. In fact, some practitioners believe the idea of “becoming a learning organization” is not accurate because all organizations learn all the time suggesting that there is no need for the learning organization construct. Regardless of these difficulties, the idea of becoming a learning organization is still appealing to many leaders and it is a popular way of addressing change across business, government and educational organizations. One thing is certain, developing a learning organization takes time, energy and commitment from the leaders and the willingness to upend current practices for something some leaders consider a better way to operate. This paper is a primer for the concept of the learning organization (LO). Presented below are LO concepts primarily taken from four authors, all of whom have contributed to understanding organizational learning and learning organizations over the past 30 -plus years, Chris Argyris, Edgar Schein, and Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis. The intent of this primer is to provide leaders with some tools to improve their thinking and understanding of what a LO is and how to develop a LO. A Learning Organization is… The concept of a LO is broad and within academia and business there is no single definition or method of development that act as standards for creating a LO. Some practitioners and many academics feel the LO is the highest or best form of organizational development. Many of these same people have differing views of what a LO is, why it exists and how a learning organization is developed. There are a number of competing definitions that are presented for a LO. Peter Senge, the most prominent advocate of the LO, defines LOs as “…organizations where people continually expand their capacity to create the results they truly desire, where new and expansive patterns of thinking are nurtured, where collective aspiration is set free, and where people are continually learning to see the whole together.” This is clearly a definition written to inspire people and make the leader feel good about the direction of change. Other authors have also put forth definitions of learning organizations. One definition comes from Garvin,

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Edmundson and Gino and their work on developing a tool to help leaders bring about the elusive LO. According to Garvin, et al, A learning organization is a place where employees excel at creating, acquiring, and transferring knowledge. There are three building blocks of such institutions: (1) a supportive learning environment, (2) concrete learning processes and practices, and (3) leadership behavior that reinforces learning. In 2008 Garvin and his co-authors Amy Edmondson and Francesca Gino argued that the LO ideal was not yet achieved by many organizations. Garvin and his co-authors developed a tool to assess the organizational learning. This tool, the learning organization survey, is based on the above definition which included what they termed the building blocks of a LO. Because the definition is concise and includes the building blocks necessary to measure success, this definition is one that military leaders can use to develop LO. There are three building blocks mentioned in the definition, a supportive learning environment, concrete learning processes and management that reinforces learning. Each building block has a list of associated characteristics that, when used in assessing the state of the organization, could indicate if a LO exists. The definition and building blocks that Garvin and his peers developed are very well aligned with the major ideas found in the remainder of this paper. From this point we will describe the development and importance of single and double loop learning as an organizational learning process; discuss the influence of organizational culture on learning; and the final section will provide some methods and techniques a leader can use to lead the change necessary to become a LO. Argyris and Organizational Learning Chris Argyris was a scholar and author who was instrumental in developing ideas about how organizations learn, specifically developing the twin concepts of single and double loop learning. Argyris defined two reasons for organizations to learn. First, learning occurs when the outcome of an operation or project matches the desired or expected result. In this situation existing knowledge is confirmed, reinforcing the current state. The organization learns that the existing process does produce the desired result and, in some cases, a best practice is established. However, learning also occurs when there is a gap between the desired result and actual result. The organization learns that the process does not produce the desired result. At that point, someone must decide to change the process or system to achieve the desired end-state or outcome. The learning occurs when a change is applied to the system and the outcome is assessed. The desired result may not occur after the first change or even the second. Multiple attempts or changes might be necessary to achieve the outcome expected by the organization. Learning takes place at the end of each attempt as the individuals involved in the process and acting as part of an organization, compare the outcome to the desired result and either reject or accept the changes. The individuals learn what produces the desired result and what does not. Learning has occurred in the organization because someone identified a gap and then found a solution through adjusting a system or process to fix that gap or mismatch between the desired result and what was actually produced. This is known as single-loop learning. Argyris’ also described another type of organizational learning, double-loop learning. This also involves the review of actual outcomes compared to desired outcomes. However, instead of only changing how the system or process functions double-loop learning involves reviewing and changing the “governing variables” that were used to develop the system or process, to overcome the mismatch and then produce what was intended or achieve the desired outcome. A governing variable is what the actors are attempting to “satisfice” with the action or process in use. When a leader determines that single-loop

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attempts at change will not result in satisfaction of the need, no matter how many attempts are made with the existing process, the remaining option is to change the governing variables. By doing so the leader is creating conditions where all aspects of the organization could be reviewed including such things as questioning the purpose of the particular process under review, the value of what is coming out of the processes or systems or even questioning the continued existence of the organization. Double-loop learning requires group members to lay aside the comfortable and examine the mental models that have established the culture, the systems and the traditions within the organization. This is not an easy task but is something that is required at times to make the organization better and more resilient. Argyris asserts that single and double loop learning are foundational for understanding how and why learning occurs within an organization. Single and double-loop learning are descriptions of the thinking process that occurs when doing anything, whether that is producing a widget or operating on a complex, ambiguous battlefield. People, acting as part of an organization, assess success in meeting a desired result and then act to either fix the mismatch or continue to the next objective if a match between the desired and actual outcome exists. Learning organizations have processes like single loop learning or double loop learning that lead to change when necessary. These processes are assessment tools that allow learning to occur and are the primary means of experiencing effective change within the organization, whether acknowledged as such or not. This leads to the first point of understanding the reader should take away from this short primer - organizations learn through people who identify matches or mismatches between actual and desired outcomes and then change a system, process, or governing variables to achieve the desired result. Ultimately, learning serves as the means to change the organization. Schein and the Learning Culture Edgar Schein is a scholar who studies leadership and culture within organizations. His book Organizational Culture and Leadership, while focused on organizational culture, contains a description of a learning culture as a specific type of culture that can exist within any group. A learning culture requires leaders to support learning in an open and obvious manner. His description of a learning culture is built around specific characteristics that indicate a positive view of learning exists within the organization. These characteristics could be used as an assessment tool to determine if a learning culture exists. Culture “guide(s) and constrain(s) the behavior of members of a group through the shared norms that are held in that group.” This is particularly applicable to how the group makes decisions and solves problems because both are behaviors necessary to the success of the group. Schein defines culture as: “a pattern of shared basic assumptions learned by a group as it solved its problems of external adaptation and internal integration, which has worked well enough to be considered valid and therefore to be taught to new members as the correct way to perceive, think and feel in relation to those problems.” Schein’s major emphasis is organizational culture not learning. But the concepts he describes in the levels of culture can also apply to a leaning culture. Schein presents three levels of organizational culture analysis, artifacts, espoused values and beliefs, and basic underlying assumptions. When comparing organizational culture to the idea of a learning culture it is safe to assume that the three elements will be different.

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Artifacts are the visible level of culture, seen by insiders and outsiders alike. The meaning of the artifact may not be known by anyone outside the organization. Insiders, though, know the meaning or function of the artifact because it is tied to the other levels of culture. Artifacts are an expression of the other levels of culture, even though an individual artifact may serve a functional purpose. Organizational climate is an example of an artifact and it is not an abstraction that is equal to culture. In a learning culture the artifacts would likely be items, processes, or procedures that support learning in some manner such as dedicated classrooms or knowledge management systems. Espoused beliefs and values are culture elements that reflect learning by an individual or sub-group and specifically concern how the organization responds to a problem or issue or how to accomplish a new task. Over time the group learns through shared experiences that produce positive results and solutions to the problems they face. Once the shared experiences are evaluated for effectiveness and are proven to work, the process used becomes a shared value or belief. If the value or belief is applied with success over time it may become a shared assumption about future work. These learned responses, proven over time, provide stability and a level of certainty for future operations and become the underlying assumptions that are taught to new members of the group or organization. Another way to understand what occurs within the organization is that the beliefs and values transition from something the group members think about to problem solving methods or operational techniques that are taken for granted. Espoused beliefs and values are part of the structure of the organizational culture and may account for how the members of the organization view learning. Underlying, or shared basic, assumptions are the basis for the culture and come from the espoused beliefs and values as they have been proven over time to solve problems. Group underlying assumptions apply to all members and guide their behaviors in all aspects including how to respond to a problem. As group members continue to face problems, either internal or external, they look for solutions. Members rarely look for innovative solutions until the original solution fails and the group falls into a crisis. This is similar to the ideas of examining the governing variables of a system within double loop learning as described by Argyris. Even when looking for innovative solutions to stop a crisis, underlying, or taken for granted assumptions are usually unassailable. According to Schein “…the reexamination of basic assumptions temporarily disrupts our cognitive and interpersonal world…” This disruption causes anxiety and forces us to assess the situation in which one finds himself in a different manner or through a different lens. This is when learning takes place. It is important to remember that these underlying assumptions were initially suggestions made by a group member or a set of beliefs about proper actions toward changing circumstances. The suggestions allowed adaptation within the organization for survival or for improvement. Eventually these suggestions or beliefs were accepted by the group as the way to do business or to solve problems in the future. In mature companies, the underlying assumptions have been part of the organization for so long the origination of them has often been forgotten. How the organization deals with both the underlying assumptions and espoused beliefs and values contributes to the organizational culture and to learning. Schein proposes ten characteristics and skills that distinguish a learning culture. The ten characteristics are a synthesis of his concept of assumptions and beliefs and values and contribute to the creation of a learning culture within a group. These dimensions of a learning culture are derived from his experiences in analyzing companies over time and discussions with other experts in this field. A very brief synopsis of the characteristics follows.

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Proactivity in learning is an essential element within a learning culture. An assumption of proactivity, that all members are learning all the time, helps prevent complacency and does not allow problems to grow in complexity or increase a requirement causing a need for immediate change. This is because proactive groups are out in front of the problems instead of reacting to the circumstances after the fact. Leaders must set the example in this area and behave in a manner that indicates the importance of on- going learning to the other group members. Members of a learning culture “hold the shared assumption that learning is a good thing.” This assumption leads to learning about internal and external relationships and problems. When learning is viewed as a good thing, then leaders provide time to learn or reflect for the members. This time of reflection can contribute to innovative ideas about how to improve what occurs within the organization at large or to improve individual performance. Another form of learning occurs through feedback about performance. In a learning culture feedback from leaders, subordinates and peers is seen as a positive experience instead of something to be feared or avoided. The feedback should be focused on job performance and occur in a collegial manner. Learning also happens through experimentation. Experimentation is supported in a learning culture even though the results are not always integrated into the established systems or processes found in the organization. These examples are a few of the ways learning is encouraged if “learning is seen as a good thing” is characteristic of the organization or group. According to Schein, leaders who encourage learning must view people as good and working for the good of the organization. This perspective results in a belief by members that they are safe, not from physical harm, but psychologically safe to learn on the job and experiment toward improving the organization in some manner. The corresponding assumption is that leaders will not punish or discourage members who innovate even if successful results are not achieved with the first try. Instead, leaders who encourage learning believe that failure is an integral aspect of the learning experience. Part of psychological safety is the demonstrated belief of the leader that the environment is manageable, and one mistake or failure will not irrevocably harm the organization. A pragmatic search for truth through inquiry is another of the ten distinguishing characteristics of a learning organization. This is derived from a belief that leaders and members of organizations do not know all there is to know. By encouraging inquiry, leaders facilitate personal growth and a shared responsibility to improve each other and the organization by learning more. Learning cultures are also future focused, looking out ahead of the current system and problems. Pragmatic inquiry and a future focus require open and honest communication about the current state and the desired future state. Communication about weaknesses within the context of task-relevant discussions can only occur if trust exists in the organization across all boundaries. Trust is key to honest internal reflection and analysis of the organizational culture. Schein states “In a learning culture, leaders and members believe that analyzing and reflecting on their culture is a necessary part of the learning process.” This belief supports the development of a commitment to cultural diversity and a commitment to systemic thinking. If an organization does not believe in cultural analysis to improve the organization than these two commitments will not occur. Both result from understanding the need to be critical of one’s self - to look for cognitive biases or blind spots in our thinking that hinder improvement either in ourselves or in the organization. Once the biases or blind spots are identified then it is incumbent on the person to make changes to our thinking patterns that eliminate the bias altogether or mitigate the influence on our judgment and decision-making. By demonstrating this cultural reflection

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and analysis leaders can contribute to preventing counterproductive thinking or misjudging people based on cultural differences. The discussion of Schein’s concept of learning culture above does not include the concept of artifacts as part of the analysis of a learning culture. That is because artifacts do not develop the culture but come from the other aspects of culture. Artifacts are the aspect of a culture that is easily seen. In a learning culture, artifacts might include such things as; physical space devoted to learning; encouragement of group members to attend developmental courses or conferences; time devoted to reflection when problem solving; a human resource system that promotes and rewards members for learning; and visible commendations of change agents. Each of these artifacts could be linked to a specific belief, value, or assumption guiding the behavior of the individuals in the group. The main idea here is that artifacts are a result of assumptions, beliefs, and values. In a learning culture the value of learning should be on display through the artifacts of the organization because of the underlying assumption that learning is the best method to improve the organization and the people within it. Dibella and Nevis Perspectives on Learning Organizations So far, this paper contains a description of Argyris’ concept of organizational learning and the characteristics of a learning culture according to Schein both contribute to our understanding of how and why learning occurs in organizations. The final portion of this primer will focus on more practical ideas for implementation that will enable organizational learning and development of a learning organization. Like Schein and Argyris, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis are scholars and authors whose focus is learning within organizations. In their book How Organizations Learn, a book written to support leaders who want to change their organizations, Dibella and Nevis describe three different perspectives of the learning organization. These perspectives were derived research across the field of study and include clear links to both Argyris’ and Schein’s concepts described earlier. The graphic below describes the three perspectives of a learning organization a leader may hold.

Figure 1. Perspectives on the Learning organization, derived from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis, Jossey

Bass, 1998. Chart created by Dr. Kevin Gentzler.

Figure one depicts differing perspectives a leader could hold about learning organizations. There is a list of characteristics of a learning organization associated with each perspective. Dibella and Nevis analyzed learning organization literature from many different authors to develop the different perspectives. While the normative and developmental perspective share some characteristics all three perspectives are distinctly different especially concerning the time of implementation.

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According to Dibella and Nevis, organizations that strive to become a learning organization do so through a development process initiated by the leader(s), it is a conscious choice to end up as a learning organization. The perspectives are important because as the leader attempts to improve organizational learning and develop a learning organization he or she will approach the development from one of the three perspectives shown in Figure 1. It is important to note that the perspectives are not all inclusive of characteristics but are representative of the differences of opinions about how a learning organization comes to be. A description of each perspective follows. The normative perspective is, perhaps, the most stringent of the three perspectives. A leader who has a normative perspective believes all the characteristics listed above are necessary for establishment of a learning organization. The perspective is considered normative because the leader establishes the norms of organizational learning and develops a prescriptive learning approach. Proponents believe that if a prescriptive model is followed by any organization, then the organization will achieve the ideal form and become a learning organization. The normative perspective requires a standardized or systemic method of learning and specific leader behaviors that direct what, when and how learning occurs in the organization. If any of the prescribed behaviors, examples of which are empathetic leaders, openness in communication, or encouragement of creativity, are not present, then a learning organization does not exist. Unfortunately, the list of required behaviors and characteristics changes depending on which author or scholar one reads. The fact that there is no established, proven, accepted list of learning organization qualities indicates the normative perspective may not be easy to apply in building a learning organization. Like the normative perspective, the developmental perspective assumes the learning organization is the highest state of being for any organization or group. A major difference between the developmental perspective and the normative perspective is when an organization achieves the desired end-state. In the normative perspective a future state is assumed, and the organization is actively pursuing learning organization status. A leader with a developmental perspective of the learning organization believes that organizations grow, from infancy to maturity, into a learning organization through evolution or revolution or a combination of both. This is a longitudinal or lifespan focus leading to the final phase of development as a learning organization. The developmental perspective identifies different characteristics at different stages of life, but there is no specific set of processes or ideas in each developmental phase. Experience is the great teacher within the developmental perspective and can be reinterpreted as necessary to improve the organization when the need arises. In both the normative and developmental perspectives, the learning organization is a status or way of operating that leaders strive to achieve through setting conditions for learning. That status can be gained or lost as things change over time. Learning is not seen as a normal, natural occurrence, but something that must be controlled and directed by leaders under specific conditions established by the leader or leaders in the organization. If the conditions are not correct, then learning will not occur or operations will not be optimal until the conditions are corrected or achieved again. The final perspective of the three is the capability perspective. This perspective is a view of learning as a normal part of organizational life. In this view becoming a learning organization is not a status to achieve but is the very nature of “organizations as social systems.” In the capability perspective learning occurs naturally, is a shared activity, and the repository for the created knowledge is the organizational culture. There is no best-practice approach or any prescriptive way of learning that must be upheld according to this perspective. All learning processes that exist in the organization are embedded within the organizational culture as espoused beliefs and values or underlying assumptions. In other words,

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learning becomes “the way we do things here”. The importance of learning is also taught to new members of the organization. Dibella and Nevis are proponents of the capability perspective and have expanded on this perspective by identifying the factors that facilitate learning along with learning orientations or styles that might be present in a unit as it becomes a learning organization as indicated in figure 2 below.

Figure 2. Facilitating Factors and Learning Orientations of Learning in Organizations. Derived from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis,

Jossey Bass, 1998. Created by Dr. Kevin Gentzler.

These lists, while not prescriptive, do provide insight into how leaders can improve the learning in an organization which leads to improvement across the board. Each facilitating factor is a behavior by either a leader or a member of the organization that influences the organizational climate. These factors are ways to support learning through exhibited behaviors. When leaders behave in a manner that supports learning, members then view learning as an important activity and will learn on their own and contribute to shared knowledge within the culture. As we review these facilitating factors we can see they are similar to the distinguishing characteristics of a learning culture identified by Schein. Both Schein and Dibella & Nevis see their respective ideas as leader and member behaviors that are present within organizations when experiential learning is seen as a key method of organizational improvement and growth. The facilitating factors must be demonstrated by both leaders and members to have an influence on learning which leads to change and improvement in organizations. The first factor is the scanning imperative. The behaviors associated with this factor include focusing on how knowledge is gathered internally while gaining information from the external environment. By scanning the members of the organization are capable of “…sensing developing problems or opportunities and acting on them early…” The second facilitating factor is identification of performance gaps. There are two aspects of this factor, shared awareness of a gap between the desired and actual state of the company and awareness of the potential for increased performance or effectiveness. Identification of a performance gap occurs when leaders and members are analyze performance through the use of different tools or models including the use of feedback mechanisms for individuals and systems. By demonstrating behaviors that are designed to identify performance gaps leaders set the example for others and support learning through observing and assessing on-going operations. “All managers measure performance one way or another…” Performance measurement is nothing new for military professionals. There are established methods of measuring nearly every aspect of military operations and performance with the ultimate measure being performance in combat. Military leaders are concerned about measuring how well units and people can perform assigned tasks and missions. As leaders assess performance, they will identify learning opportunities. Ensuring that learning occurs from taking these measurements is where leaders make a difference and begin to build a learning organization.

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Scanning the environment and internal operations, identifying gaps between a desired and actual state, and measuring the effectiveness and ability of a unit or group to achieve a mission are all fundamental factors that facilitate learning in military units as well as other organizations. These first three facilitating factors are supported by the next factor, organizational curiosity. People in an organization must be free to experiment or try new things in attempts to solve problems or close gaps in performance. This is the nature of organizational curiosity. People must be curious about how to improve. If that curiosity is stifled by a leader who does not support continuous learning or experimentation, no change will occur. As a result the organization will become stagnate and begin to lose to its competition, or will suffer failure, perhaps completely disappearing from the landscape. Leaders must support learning by allowing experimentation and development of organizational curiosity. The next facilitating factor is establishing a climate of openness. In an open climate the ability to share information and knowledge is not limited by formal restrictions or informal, perceived exclusionary practices. Communication barriers are removed, if found. People in the unit have the ability to share opinions and ideas without defensive behaviors from others, particularly from the leader. This type of climate is developed as trust between members increases and as leaders demonstrate positive acceptance of new ideas and opinions. As problems are solved by new ideas that are shared and implemented trust will increase and the open climate is reinforced and rewarded. At least initially, an open climate requires leaders to withhold judgment and to refrain from speaking about new ideas in a negative manner. The more a leader remains quiet, the more information is shared. Support for continuous education is the next facilitating factor. This factor means leaders should encourage life-long learning at all levels. Developing life-long learners within organizations requires the application of resources. By providing time, money and opportunities for members to learn leaders reinforce the importance of learning in tangible ways. Those resources come back to the organization in the way of improved performance, new ideas, and the ability to implement what was learned to the current operating environment. Operational variety is another facilitating factor which contributes to organizational learning. According to Dibella and Nevis this factor “…is extremely important factor in organizational learning capability because it provides an opportunity to understand the implications and consequences of different ways of working.” By encouraging operational variety the leader is expressing the idea that more than one method of doing business exists. This will encourage organizational members to think creatively about how to do a job better, more efficiently or to achieve greater results. Demonstrating that other solutions or processes are acceptable is a positive way to improve the workforce. Sometimes to bring change to an organization requires more than one person to lead the charge which is why Kotter puts forth the idea that a guiding coalition is necessary in change efforts. Dibella and Nevis describe the role of “multiple advocates” as a “supportive coalition” which is “empowered to act” and implement changes to systems and processes of learning. Leaders must recruit as many people as necessary who support learning by bringing “knowledge into the system”. The more people who support learning across the organization leads to greater acceptance of change and more knowledge shared within the group. Improvement in the organization will come through accepting change and sharing knowledge. Developing a learning organization requires the next facilitating factor, involved leadership. Involved leaders are a key part of acquiring knowledge because those leaders set the agenda for the organization.

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Leaders must also set the agenda for dissemination and utilization of the acquired knowledge. By being involved in all three aspects the leaders’ behaviors set the example for others to follow in this area. The last facilitating factor is adopting a systems perspective. A systems perspective integrates all other aspects of learning and is what allows the members of the organization “… to identify relationships among processes, structures, and dispersed actions” across the organization. Without a systems perspective or systems thinking the learning processes will be limited because the ability to see cause and effect or understand the consequences of actions will be diminished learning and an inability to effect change. Organizational leaders should develop a way to implement systems thinking throughout the organization as a means to improve “dissemination and utilization of knowledge” Seven Learning Orientations While the facilitating factors are behaviors the seven learning orientations describe different points of view about how knowledge is acquired, disseminated, and utilized to improve the organization. Each orientation is on a continuum with a pair of conditions split out at either end. Leaders should not make a value judgment about the orientations. The orientations should not be viewed as having a particular value or something that is either negative or positive, but simply as a way to describe how learning is viewed in the organization. For a practical application of this concept these orientations can be used to evaluate the state of learning in an organization. By assessing the unit along each continuum, a leader could determine if organizational learning is occurring and how learning is viewed by the people in the organization. The results of the assessment could be used to improve the acquisition, dissemination and utilization of knowledge. Ultimately, the act of assessing is a crucial step in reinforcing the learning culture. Dibella and Nevis developed a method to assess how the acquisition, dissemination and use of knowledge occurs. They developed a descriptive scale for the seven learning orientations. The scale allows the leaders to assess each learning orientation against a pair of descriptors that relate to how or when each orientation is observed within the organization (Figure 3). To use this assessment tool requires questioning how each orientation is viewed by the group. For example, for the continuum of Knowledge Source, the question posed might be “From where do we gain our knowledge about our environment and operations?” The answer would fall along the continuum between either internal sources or external sources. The answers to the questions could point to how important the leaders’ view learning and knowledge creation within an organization. If the answers to the questions are contradictory or the questions cannot be answered clearly, then a shortfall in some portion of the learning process might have been uncovered. Through identifying a shortfall, the leaders could develop a plan to correct that shortfall and improve learning processes.

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Figure 3. Organizational Learning Profile. Adapted from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis, Jossey Bass, 1998, p.104.

By assessing how knowledge is acquired, disseminated and utilized in an organization the true value the group places on learning is revealed, which will allow leaders to shape future changes and reinforce the learning culture as they see fit. Below is a brief description of each of the orientations. Each learning orientation is linked to knowledge management in some manner. Knowledge source is the orientation related to the source of the knowledge in the group. Specifically, knowledge source describes from where knowledge is obtained, either internal sources or external sources. Content/process focus is related to what products or services the organization provides or how they are developed and/or delivered. Knowledge reserve describes where knowledge resides within the organization. The orientation, dissemination mode, is related to the processes for moving knowledge throughout the organization, either through formal or informal processes. Learning scope describes how an organization uses knowledge to improve current activity or create something new. Value chain focus describes which is more important, producing something and bringing in new customers or selling/servicing existing products for current customers. The final orientation, learning focus, is related to using knowledge to develop individuals or improve the organization. Understanding how these orientations are integrated and lead to improvements in the organization is very important to the continued development of learning organizations. Some of these points of view are clearly related to businesses and commercial activities and may not seem applicable to military organizations. Those orientations are; content-process focus, learning scope, and value-chain focus. Some slight modifications to those ideas could make them useful to military leaders. For example, one could modify the content-process focus and move away from examining what products and services are produced, or how they are developed, to an examination of what systems are found in the organization and how those systems are used by the organization. Through this slight change the members of the organization can learn more about the organization will assessing the usefulness of current systems. This type of change could apply to the other learning orientations as well. By making small changes to the three orientations listed above, all seven could be useful to military units and leaders. Conclusion Developing a learning organization is a difficult task for any leader. It is a concept supported in U.S. Army doctrine as an organizational construct that all leaders should strive to achieve and therefore should be something leaders attempt to bring about. By using the tools and ideas presented in this paper leaders will have a leg up in establishing a learning culture, development of a learning organization and bringing change and improvement to their organization. This is not easy work, but, it can be done.

L421

Complexity

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

Advance Sheet for L421

Complexity 1. SCOPE

This lesson focuses on the challenges of command within the complexities of war. You examine the

1973 Arab-Israeli War, also known as the Yom Kippur War, through the Cynefin framework developed by David Snowden. The purpose of the lesson is twofold. The first is to analyze a military case through the perspective of senior leaders, both military and civilian. The second is to analyze how commanders might use the Cynefin framework as a systems approach within an operational environment, and apply critical and creative thinking to understand the nature of problems, determine solutions, and make decisions. You also learn the importance of having a problem-solving approach within the context of modern warfare to address unexpected or changing conditions. As a result of this lesson, you improve your knowledge of the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships between people, events, and outcomes in a complex, uncertain environment while assessing changes in human behavior within that environment. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in developing organizations. This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO 10.3 Action: Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and decision-making. Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes – 1. Explain the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships in modern warfare. 2. Explain sense making in complexity. 3. Explain how decision making frameworks assist commanders. Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges.

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e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: N/A b. During Class: N/A

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements (1) First Requirement: Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7oz366X0-8&feature=related. This YouTube video

is by David Snowden, the developer of the Cynefin (pronounced kenevin) framework. It provides an excellent description of the Cynefin framework as background for reading L421RA.

Read: L421RA: Dettmer, William. "Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework." Goal Systems

International, 2011. www.Goalsys.com . [40 pages]. This reading has 29 pages of base reading followed by 12 pages of endnotes and appendices. Focus your reading effort from page 8 to the first paragraph on page 21. The remainder of the article discusses the development of management theory over time and is good general knowledge, but not necessarily pertinent to the class discussion. However, there is no restriction against reading the entire document.

L421RB: Bar-Joseph, Uri Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaws? The Sources of Israel’s Military Defeat at the Beginning of the 1973 War. Journal of Military History, 72(2). April 2008; 509-530. The Society of Military History [21 pages]

L421RC: Brooks, Risa An Autocracy at War: Explaining Egypt’s Military Effectiveness, 1967 and 1973. Security Studies 15(3). July –September 2006; 396-430. Taylor and Francis. [34 Pages].

L421RD Reed, George E. 2006. “Leadership and Systems Thinking.” Defense AT&L 35 (3): 10– 13. http://search.ebscohost.com.lumen.cgsccarl.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=20707954&sit e=ehost-live&scope=site

Appendix A: Maps of the 1973 Arab-Israeli War. Extracts from the West Point Atlas of the Arab Israeli War. Maps 11a/b; 12a/b &13b.

(2) Second Requirement. Complete the case study worksheet, available in Blackboard with the

L421 advance sheet. This is a study aid. Your instructor explains its use in class. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently in the role of one of the leaders in the case study.

(3) Third Requirement. Reflect on these questions as you complete the readings and prepare for

class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

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How can an organizational leader determine cause and effect relationships in warfare? What role does judgment play in decision-making and problem solving? Why does a commander need to understand cause and effect relationships on a battlefield? How can a commander adequately describe an operational approach and then employ all the elements of combat power to achieve a desired end state without understanding cause and effect relationships? What value comes from determining cause and effect relationships within a given context? How does that value help the commander or staff improve operational capability within the operating environment? What is the difference between a “probing action” and “taking action,” as described by Snowden? How and when might these be applied in a large-scale combat environment? What can a commander gain from these actions? How does a systems thinking approach to problem solving improve the ability of a commander to operate in a LSCO environment?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access:

L421 advance sheet and readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession ADP 3-0, Operations ADP 5-0, The Operations Process

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three-assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity L421: Reading A

Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework Author: William Dettmer

ABSTRACT The evolution of management over the past century, from Taylor and Fayol through Drucker and Deming, has been a process of continuing search, trial and error, deduction and induction, figuring out what works, what works better, and what doesn’t work very well at all. There is no shortage of management methods and tools. However, the preponderance of these are tactical and quantitative. Strategic, qualitative management aids are considerably fewer in number. Some methods and tools have realized significant successes in a variety of situations, while failing to meet expectations in others. Until now, there hasn’t been an obvious underlying principle to explain why. Systems and their external environments can be classified as simple, complicated, complex, and chaotic. This taxonomy is known as the Cynefin Framework. It provides an orderly way to evaluate the interaction of organizational systems, their external environments, and the myriad of management methods and tools available to decision makers. A significant number of organizations today qualify as complex. Their environment may change in short but irregular, unpredictable cycles, requiring the organization to adapt internally accordingly to avoid degradation. But the majority of available management methods and tools have been designed to succeed in simple and complicated domains, not complex. The failure to identify and understand the underlying assumptions about these methods made this limitation inevitable. That is about to change. A BRIEF HISTORY OF MANAGEMENT Many volumes have been written on the evolution of management over the last 125 years. It’s not possible to recount all of that here, nor would doing so really advance the message of this paper. But some foundation—an anchor for the discussion that follows—is required as a departure point for considering a new way of viewing management of systems. Since the days of Frederick Taylor and Henri Fayol in the early 20th century, the evolution of management has been a continual search for a theory or set of prescriptions that could effectively guide leaders’ decision making in the widest possible variety of circumstances. The objective of this search has proved elusive. In most cases, it produced discrete tools or methodologies, usable in some circumstances though not in others, but not any kind of overarching frame- work that could be useful for the broadest population of organizational types: commercial, not- for-profit, and government agency. Of Frederick Taylor, Peter Drucker, perhaps the most prominent management philosopher of the 20th century, said:

Frederick W. Taylor was the first man in recorded history who deemed work deserving of systematic observation and study. On Taylor's 'scientific management' rests, above all, the tremendous surge of affluence in the last seventy-five years which has lifted the working masses in the developed countries

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well above any level recorded before, even for the well-to-do. Taylor, though the Isaac Newton (or perhaps the Archimedes) of the science of work, laid only first foundations, however. Not much has been added to them since even though he has been dead all of sixty years. [Emphasis added]

Drucker wrote this in 1973. Since then the increase in management methodologies has been almost exponential. Fayol’s contributions were perhaps even more important to modern management. His functions and principles of management (Figure 1), first advanced in 1917, formed the basis for modern management thinking that persists to this day. In the second half of the 20th century, Fayol’s original functions were simplified to five:

Planning

Organizing

Staffing

Directing (or leading)

Controlling Figure 1. Fayol’s Functions and Principles These are the basic things that all people with executive responsibility try to do well in order to succeed in their chosen environment. Both Taylor and Fayol sought to make the management of organizations more regimented, more standardized and repetitive, under the assumption that operations would be more consistent, effective, and controllable. Ultimately, such controllability was expected to produce better overall results. From the perspective of the 21st century, the organizational systems Taylor and Fayol sought to regulate seem relatively simple, and largely linear. Even up to the mid-20th century, organizational systems remained fairly simple, or at most complicated, with a lot of components, but still relatively linear. Consequently, the standardization and regimentation that Taylor and Fayol sought to realize was relatively effective for the first half of the 20th century. Vertical and Horizontal Integration Throughout the first half of the 20th century, many of the largest companies in America were vertically integrated. In other words, the same company controlled all elements of the supply chain, from raw material production through finished product distribution and sales. A good example of a vertically integrated company was Ford Motors. Ford owned the iron mines in the Mesabi Range of northern Minnesota and the rubber plantations of South America. Iron ore was shipped on Ford-owned and operated boats to Detroit, where it was delivered to Ford’s River Rouge steel mill for smelting. The mill was adjacent to Ford’s assembly plant. Rubber came by Ford-owned ships from South America to Ford’s tire plants. All the components of Ford automobiles were produced by the company itself. Then the finished automobiles were shipped by Ford’s transporters to Ford-controlled dealerships. Vertical integration provided corporate executives what they craved most: control. Vertically integrated companies may have been complicated and not terribly efficient, but from beginning to end they were firmly under the executive’s control. Horizontal integration, by comparison, is a strategy of market control in which a company acquires, or merges with, like businesses (perhaps even competitors) to expand its presence or control in other geographic or market segments. For example, Delta Airlines’ merger with Northwest Airlines in 2008

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expanded Delta’s reach into routes and markets it had previously not enjoyed. But Delta is still not vertically integrated—it doesn’t control its own fuel sup- plies, or the manufacture of its airplanes, or even all of the booking of its passengers. Through World War II, most major companies were vertically integrated. But in the 1950s and 1960s, companies began to disintegrate vertically. The advent of globalization following the war created an exciting new competitive environment, but it was also one that was more uncertain and risky, and less controllable. Vertical disintegration was a way of reducing risk and becoming more agile, more responsive to changes in market conditions. Moreover, by narrowing a company’s span of attention to fewer corporate components, greater attention to efficiency was thought possible. The Rise of Management Accounting The increasing influence of “corporate bean counters” reinforced the drive for efficiency. Bob Lutz, the recently retired vice chairman of General Motors, observed:

the 1950s and ‘60s marked the decline of “the product guy” at GM and the ascendancy of professional management, often individuals with a strong financial background...and cars were merely a transitory form of money: put a certain quantity in at the front end, transform it into vehicles, and sell them for more money at the other end. The company cared about the other two ends—minimizing cost and maximizing revenue—but assumed that customer desire for the product was a given...without a passionate focus on great products from the top of the company on down, the “low-cost” part will be assured but the “high-revenue” part won’t happen, just as it didn’t at GM for so many years. (pp.41-42)

Not limited to commercial companies alone, the Defense Department of Robert McNamara in the 1960s, with its emphasis on systems analysis—the concerted application of mathematical optimization, modeling, game theory, dynamic programming, quadratic programming, and cost- benefit analyses—was accused of knowing “the cost of everything and the value of nothing.” This exaggerated emphasis on the financial aspects of business management reached a peak in the 1980s with the advent of managerial (or management) accounting. But the chief failing of managerial accounting is that it’s almost exclusively inward-focused, and what externalities figure into it are almost inevitably based on assumptions, which, though accepted at face value, are often not verifiable, or even testable. Once again, Bob Lutz on external assumptions:

The error in the traditional Product Planning methodology is that it crowds out art, creativity, and spontaneous invention. It assumes that automotive consumers are highly rational people who will perform analyses and elaborate feature comparisons before making their purchase. As we well know, they don’t. (pp. 133-114) [Emphasis added]

Analysis versus Synthesis Exacerbating the rise of “bean counting” is the historical tendency to analyze, rather than synthesize— to break things down, rather than to integrate them. Since the turn of the 20th century, the accepted approach to dealing with increasing complexity is to try to reduce it into manageable “bites” and address them in isolation. This approach is referred to as analysis. We analyze a complex situation or issue by trying to break it down into component pieces and con- sider each in isolation from the others. This kind of thinking has its roots in analytic geometry, where one basic axiom is that the whole is equal to the sum of its parts. Think about that for a moment: The underlying assumption behind this conclusion is that all of the parts

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are essentially independent of one another. But although this mathematical thinking might apply to bricks and other inanimate objects, it fails when applied to dynamic, homeostatic, or cybernetic systems —which generally include any organic systems, or those where human beings have a role. And unfortunately such systems are the ones that exert the most influence on our lives. We see the failure of the analytical approach all the time. The Rohr Corporation's Riverside, California, plant recorded a 55 percent increase in profits in 1996. Great news, if all you focus on is short-term profits. When you look at the larger system, you see the reason for that increase is better “efficiency” (meaning cost cutting) temporarily had a greater impact than the 3 percent decline in sales. Or, as the corporate treasurer enthusiastically observed, “Costs have come down quicker than our revenue has decreased.” (I'm sure the 3,500 people laid off at River- side by Rohr in the preceding few years are immensely gratified to know that!) The Rohr story is a cautionary tale of self-delusion by analytical thinking and management accounting. Globalization and Technology Two other key factors in complicating management in the second half of the 20th century are globalization and technology. At the conclusion of World War II, the industrialized world was flat on its back economically, with one notable exception: the United States. America, one of the few combatants that did not suffer the direct devastation of war on its homeland, was also the only one with its industrial base not only intact, but actually at a peak of capability. This industrial base not only pulled America out of the great depression of the 1930s, but it became industrial supplier to the world as well—at least for the 15 years immediately concluding hostilities. It can be fairly said that the end of World War II marked the advent of globalization. The U.S. began selling products overseas, and products from around the world began to appear in U.S. markets. This trend continued for the next six decades. During the same period, the pace of technology advancement became almost exponential. The world “grew smaller” through advances in both communication and transportation. The time to cross the oceans dropped from days or weeks to mere hours. Air travel became afford- able to the masses. Improvements in medicine, new discoveries in science (mostly physics and chemistry), and the higher standard of living these discoveries produced (so-called modern conveniences) all increased the complexity of life as well. Equipment became far more capable, but proportionally more complicated, too. For example, automobiles, once the domain of backyard mechanics, now require specialized training and expensive technical equipment to maintain. Much of the increase in complexity came with increasing automation and the development of computers, integrated circuits, and their widespread incorporation (“embedding”) into all manner of electro- mechanical devices. The most profound advance of all was the introduction and developmental explosion of personal computers—a seductive capability in search of application. And myriad such uses came out of the woodwork. Take manufacturing, for example. What had previously been managed by people with hand- written or typed reports requiring days or weeks to prepare could now be done with the stroke of a key in a few seconds, or at most, minutes. Undreamed of economies of scale and efficiencies were possible. Take MRP, for example.

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Material Requirements Planning (MRP-I) and its successor Manufacturing Resource Planning (MRP- II) represented the first substantive attempts to computerize, first, production scheduling and material ordering needs, and second, all aspects of a manufacturing firm. As with other complicated computer applications that exploded onto the scene between roughly 1985 and 2010, MRP-I/II in many cases became a kind of “crutch” on which managers came to de- pend, often abdicating their management responsibilities. (“The computer says ‘replenish,’ so that’s what we’re going to do.”) Increases in automation gradually phased out manual labor for many tasks. The combination of increasing efficiencies and the market competition of globalization resulted in cheaper products for consumers, raising people’s standards of living even more. A collateral consequence of this industrial “evolution” was the shifting of a large proportion of what manual labor remained out of the country, to third-world countries with which the U.S. labor force could not effectively compete.

Outsourcing Another outcome of the never-ending quest for greater efficiencies and competitive edge was outsourcing. This is a euphemism for “vertically disintegrating,” which was mentioned earlier. Ultimately, businesses became highly specialized. A classic example is Boeing Commercial Airplanes. It purports to be an aircraft manufacturing company, and there was a time when this characterization was accurate. But now, with the quantum increase in product complexity over the past 60 years, “aircraft assembler” would be a better description. Yes, Boeing still manufactures key structural components of its airliners, wings being the most significant. But from avionics to flight controls, engines, support systems, interiors, and even structural components, almost everything is outsourced to specialists all over the world. Some of the motivation for outsourcing is certainly rooted in the complexity and technology inherent in the production of components. Rarely does a large-system manufacturer (perhaps better characterized as a systems integrator), in a rapidly evolving technical environment maintain the capability to also produce the complex technology inherent in those myriad components. But there are business motivations as well. In a truly open global market, competition will drive decision makers to outsource based on perceived cost savings alone. Vertical disintegration, or outsourcing, is a two-edged sword. The price of cost savings is the creation of a new kind of complex system of interdependent organizations over which the primary company can exert only marginal, if any, control. At the same time, the uncertainty and variability incurred in the creation of such complex networks makes assured control even more problematic. The more connections or links there are in a system, the greater the chance of variability, or even system breakdown. THE CHALLENGE This, then, is the situation. Economies and societies are no longer isolated by nation or region. It’s a global world, and old, simpler, more linear organizational structures aren’t equal to the challenges such a world presents. The operating environment is more chaotic, uncertain, and more variable in shorter time horizons. The common traditional practice of analysis, rather than synthesis often produces sub-optimal solutions to complex problems. Managerial ac- counting, with its cost emphasis and inward focus doesn’t always improve the situation. And the seductive tendency to depend heavily on technology, automation, and information systems frequently causes managers to abdicate their decision authority to “inanimate objects.” Figure 2 illustrates these contributory factors.

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Figure 2. The Management Challenge

When people don’t fully understand the essential nature of the systems they function in, let- ting the computer dictate the decision can actually seem reassuring. (“Well, I can’t help it—the management information system said it was the right thing to do.”) Computer programs and decision information systems have a common shortcoming that might be expressed as “garbage in, garbage out.” All that computers do is manipulate data ac- cording to pre- programmed algorithms. The outcome of the number-crunching depends entirely on the quality of data fed into the system and the accuracy (or realism) of the programming algorithm.

The Risk of Depending on Decision Support Systems The vagaries of inaccurate data are well known. Less recognized is the divergence between the algorithm and reality. No computer can replicate reality exactly. All computer programs of the type that represent reality for decision-making purposes are simulacra—the “corners of reality are rounded off” to keep a lid on the computing power required. Consider the equations required to describe a simple system composed of two objects:

We must first describe how each object behaves by itself—the “isolated” behavior. We must also consider how the behavior of each body affects that of the other—the “interaction.” Finally, we must consider how things will behave if neither of the objects is present—the “field” equation. Altogether, the most general two-body system required four equations: two “isolated” equations, one “interactive” equation, and one “field” equation.

As the number of bodies increases, there remains but a single “field” equation, and only one “isolated” equation per body. [But the] number of “interaction” equations, grows magnificently...for n bodies we would need 2n relationships!

For only 10 interacting bodies, 2, or 1,024 interaction equations would be required. Computers, of course, can easily handle this level of complexity. But how many interactions are there among variables in corporate business systems, or climatological systems, or even processes as bounded as manufacturing? Unless simplifications are made, we run squarely up against the Square Law of Computation: The amount of computation involved increases at least as fast as the square of the number of equations. In the case of our 10-body system, those 1,035 equations (don’t forget the ten isolation equations and the field equation) require a computer at least 1,071,225 times more powerful to successfully solve them in the same amount of time unless the corners of reality are rounded off (i.e., assumptions holding certain variables constant are made).

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Since massively parallel supercomputers are not typically available for management use, and since decision makers are not accustomed to waiting days, weeks, or years for an answer, the obvious course of action (for computer software and hardware purveyors who actually want their products to be affordable) is to assume away what appear to be the least influential variables—a judgment call that is never free from risk. The conclusion here is that, as constrained as the human brain may be computationally, human judgment and intuition are indispensable to effective decision making. This is not a bad thing, since, as Deming observed later in his life, a priori “The most important things are un- known and unknowable,” and “The most important things cannot be measured.” A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse! Still, humans are tool-making animals. It’s one of the characteristics that distinguishes humanity from lower life forms. And in the realm of management, decision makers are constantly searching for newer and better tools. About the same time that the economies began to globalize and technology began to explode on the scene, new management methods and tools began to spring up. Some, such as management by objectives, came and went—“flavors of the month.” Some, such as management accounting, came and stayed. Continuous improvement methods, sporting a veritable alphabet soup of acronyms such as TQM, QFD, BPR, SPC, MBWA, TOC, etc., and shorthand terms such as kanban, kaizen, just-in-time, lean, six sigma, etc., have occupied center stage for more than 20 years. Unfortunately, the tools and methods in common use are usually discrete, process-oriented, and useful only within fairly restricted parameters. For example, just-in-time/kanban, designed for use in production processes, has little or no utility in marketing and sales, or product planning and development. Attempts to translate some methods into environments for which they weren’t originally designed, like square pegs in round holes, often disappoint users with their results. Methods or techniques appropriate to commercial enterprises are often not relevant to not-for-profit organizations or government agencies. But our organizations, whether commercial, not-for-profit, or government agency, live or die—succeed or fail—as whole systems, not as collections of independent processes. And these systems exist in, operate in, and interact with an external environment that includes other systems and “state of nature” factors that can be irregular, highly variable, and unpredictable. Complex problem solving and system improvement thus become somewhat of a crap-shoot. We hope we choose the right tool for the job at hand, based on our possibly incomplete understanding of the situation. It’s no wonder that decision makers at every level are searching for a straightforward, reliable approach to whole-system improvement, not just “process polishing.” Or, a Richard the Third said, “A horse...my kingdom for a horse!” THE KEY TO SYSTEM SUCCESS: A SYSTEM NAVIGATION FRAMEWORK

Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ‘em. Little fleas have lesser fleas, and so on, ad infinitum. —The Siphonaptera

The key to engaging the apparently intractable problems that beset our organizations, societies, and

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countries is to recognize and understand the concept of systems—or, more accurately, a hierarchy of systems. Systems thinking is a relatively new domain. Essentially, it’s an approach that views “problems” as parts of an overall system, rather than reacting to specific parts, outcomes or events and potentially contributing to development of unintended consequences. Taking this thought a step further, each definable system is part of a larger sys- tem, and each system is composed of smaller systems. Most people have heard the term “holistic.” A holistic system is any set or group of interdependent or temporally interacting parts. These parts are generally systems themselves and are composed of other parts, just as systems are generally parts or holons of other systems. Systems science argues that the only way to fully understand why a problem or element occurs and persists is to understand the parts in relation to the whole. Standing in contrast to Descartes's scientific reductionism and philosophical analysis, it proposes to view systems in a holistic manner. Consistent with systems philosophy, systems thinking encourages understanding a system by examining the linkages and interactions between the elements that compose the entirety of the system. Synthesis versus Analysis If the traditional analytical approach to management is counter-productive, what’s the alternative? A holistic, or whole system approach is considerably better suited to the kinds of complex organizations we usually encounter today. What's the difference between an analytical and a systems approach? The systems approach represents synthesis-thinking with an integrated perspective about the whole enterprise. Analysis tells us how the individual parts function; synthesis tells us how the various parts work together. Before one can synthesize, one must first analyze. In other words, we first take the system apart (usually conceptually—it's not often practical to physically deconstruct the systems we normally work with) to understand the functions of each link or component. Once the components are fully understood in isolation, we study the interactions among components to under- stand how the system as a whole functions—the internal interactions and the larger system’s interaction with its external environment. Understanding the internal interactions requires integrating the components into something larger and more capable than the components represent alone. Understanding the external interactions depends on understanding the kind of system we’re dealing with and the nature of the external environment.

Systems and Environments At its simplest, a system is represented by some closed boundary between itself and the environment in which it exists. Within that boundary lie some determinate number of components that interact with each other in some way. The system takes inputs of some kind from the external environment, processes them in some way, and produces outputs back into the environment. While this processing is going on, the system

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as a whole interacts in various ways with its environment. Figure 3 illustrates the system concept. Notice the feedback loops in Figure 3. They represent conscious, active changes to system components or inputs, based on some assessment of the acceptability of outputs. This system diagram could represent almost any kind of system, from biological to ecological, or from individual human to organizational or societal. However, a system alone is only half the equation. The other influential factor is the context in which the system operates—some part of the external environment. This environment is populated by innumerable other systems of all kinds: weather, climatological, ecological, societal, regulatory, political, commercial, government, financial, economic, international, planetary, astronomical...the list is almost endless. In this “primordial stew” of interacting and overlapping systems, our system is just one of the pack. But our system may not interact with all of the other systems in the environment. There is probably a finite number whose impact on our system can be assumed, even if only estimated. In much the same way that the cells of the human body are constituted in the form of organs, muscles, nerves, and bones—each with a limited set of different functional interactions—a system inevitably resides within a comparable grouping of environmental factors, or what might be called a context.

The Cynefin Framework Between 1999 and 2003, synthesizing concepts developed by Boisot, Cilliers and others, Snowden and Kurtz developed the Cynefin framework to help visualize and understand how systems operate within a variety of domains. The Cynefin framework posits that the external environment describes a continuum from ordered to unordered. That continuum is further divided into general contexts, or domains. As characterized above, these contexts represent the grouping of environmental factors and other systems in which a particular system functions. Figure 4 depicts this concept. Four of the domains—systems and their associated environmental factors/systems—are simple, complicated, complex, and chaotic. The fifth domain, pictured in the center, is disorder. The simple and complicated domains are closer to ordered than unordered. Complex and chaotic domains are more unordered. It’s worth noting at this point that the framework, which appears to be a matrix, is not intended to categorize. Rather, Kurtz and Snowden intended it to be a sense-making framework. What’s the difference? Most matrices imply some value judgment about which cell it’s better to be in. The Cynefin framework makes no such assumption, other than that disorder be avoided. Instead, it merely describes domains. The

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chaotic or complex domains are no less (or more) desirable than the complicated or simple, and there is no particular virtue in attempting to migrate one’s system from one domain to another—“it is what it is.” The boundaries between each domain are deliberately fuzzy, indicating that there are transitional zones between them. Typically, a particular system in question will reside primarily in one domain, though it may occupy a position that puts it at least partially in another zone, or in the transition area. (See Figure 5)

Cynefin’s value as a sense-making framework lies in helping system decision makers understand approximately where their systems lie among these domains, and by extension, what kinds of tools, approaches, processes, or methods are more likely to work successfully in a given system. But what do these various domains really signify? The Simple Domain Systems that operate in a stable context characterized by clear cause-and-effect relationships easily discernible by everyone are themselves fairly well defined and simple or sequential in their activities. The variability of the environment is narrow. People know what to expect, and each event or action carries with it a limited number of potential outcomes that are predictable. Uncertainty and turbulence are minimal. Cause-and-effect relationships are clear and well understood by everyone. “Right” answers are often self- evident and undisputed. This context might be called the domain of “known knowns” (See Figure 6), and most decisions are unquestioned because everyone shares a common understanding. Decision makers can typically sense, categorize what information they gather, and respond directly. Simple contexts are heavily process-oriented situations typically managed through the application of standard practice. Both managers and employees have access to the information they need, and a command- and-control style is usually preferable. Adhering to best practice makes sense, and process re-engineering is a typical tool. Some examples of systems that would fall into this domain would be automobile repair shops, retail merchandise stores, fast food restaurants, municipal government departments, church congregations, and help desks that follow prescribed patterns of questions and answers in responding to common problems.

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The Complicated Domain Snowden and Boone, who conceived the Cynefin framework, refer to the complicated part of the framework as the domain of experts. There’s a reason for this. Complicated domains don’t have single right answers to problems. There may be several effective answers, but while not as straightforward as the simple domain, in the complicated domain the relationship between cause and effect still pertains, though such relationships may not be obvious. Whether or not they are obvious depends of the depth of people’s knowledge about the environment and the system. Variability and uncertainty increase in a complicated environment, increasing the potential range of problems as well as the number of possible right answers. In Figure 6, this is the realm of known unknowns: We know the questions to ask, but we don’t know the answers. Thus, cause-and-effect analysis is only as good as the knowledge of system or environment that one has available. Fortunately, in the complicated domain that information is usually available somewhere. It’s usually just a matter of research to find it. Now, what about the system? While a system residing in the simple domain may itself be simple, it might also be complicated, meaning it has a myriad of interacting, interdependent parts. This may be less problematic in a simple domain, but in a complicated domain, the variability is compounded. Complicated systems may coalesce into “silos” that are highly specialized and require specialized functional knowledge to operate. Consider, for example, a large-scale manufacturing company such as an automobile manufacturer. Specialization renders marketing and sales a function unto and of itself. Industrial engineers would be adrift there. The converse is also true: marketing and sales specialists would be incompetent to manage production operations. These functional silos, then, evolve into the domain of experts. Such experts may be internal to the company, or they may be external consultants. Either way, the preferred approach of most experts is analysis: the system is taken apart and its component parts examined in an effort to obtain a better understanding of how the parts function. Each silo, function, or component of a complicated system searches for, or develops, its own specialized tools or methods to cope with its obligations and the performance demands made upon it. But because each of these systemic parts is a process within the overall system, these methods almost invariably favor process analysis and improvement. Nearly all the tools management has searched for (and used) over the past several decades can be characterized as process improvement aids. In fact, the philosophy of continuous

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process improvement (CPI) is rooted in the analytic axiom that the whole is the sum of its parts: “If we hone and polish all of our processes to their maximum performance potential, then ‘glue’ them together, we’ll have the best overall system.” This kind of thinking was the basis of Deming’s fourteenth point: “Put everybody in the company to work to accomplish the transformation. The transformation is everybody's job.” And it led decision makers to implicitly assume that all parts of a system are equally important to its performance outcomes. But there is ample evidence that Deming didn’t really intend the fourteenth point to be interpreted that way that his emphasis was on transformation, not on the function of discrete processes. Later, in explaining what he referred to as the four pillars of profound knowledge, Deming said: Optimization is a process of orchestrating the efforts of all components toward achievement of the stated aim. Optimization is management’s job. Everybody wins with optimization. Anything less than optimization of the whole system will bring eventual loss to every component of the system. Any group should have its aim optimization over time of the larger system the group operates in. The obligation of any component is to contribute its best to the system, not to maximize its own production, profit, or sales, nor any other competitive measure. Some components may operate at a loss to themselves in order to optimize the whole system, including the components that take a loss. So, while the importance of whole-system thinking and system optimization was clearly important to Deming, that message was largely missed by analytically oriented managers, and the consultants (both internal and external) who sought to serve them. The result has historically been a plethora of process improvement tools and methods, but precious few system-level improvement tools. As a result, the typical decision-making pattern in the complicated domain, and in complicated systems, boils down to sense-analyze-respond. Take the cornerstone process of the ubiquitous Six Sigma methodology, DMAIC (define, measure, analyze, improve, control). What is this but sense, analyze, and respond? Some typical examples of systems in the complicated domain might be manufacturing (industrial production), insurance companies, hospitals or health care providers, and public school systems. Two common characteristics of all complicated systems and their environments is relative stability (most of the time) and fairly well defined variability. While things may change or the unexpected may happen, these phenomena are usually within the system’s capability to respond without major system modification or redesign. Entrained Thinking Snowden and Boone emphasize the risk of what they refer to as entrained thinking, a conditioned response that traps decision makers in the practices, policies, techniques and rationales that have successfully put them where they are. Entrained thinking sounds like this: “I got to the top by doing things this way, why mess with success?” Another word for this is “complacency.” Isaac Asimov once offered a rationale for entrained thinking: To introduce something altogether new would mean to begin all over, to become ignorant again, and to run the old, old risk of failing to learn. There are serious dangers in such complacency. Even simple domains evolve over time with changes

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in the external environment. A decision maker who fails to recognize such evolution risks falling behind events without realizing it. Notice in Figure 4 the purple strip separating the simple domain from the chaotic—it marks a zone of increased risk. The reason the Cynefin framework places the simple domain beside the chaotic is that the complacency resulting from entrained thinking significantly increases the risk of system collapse into chaos. Entrained thinking is also a risk for systems in the complicated domain, but in this case the ones at risk are not the leaders. Rather, it’s the experts in functional areas who are most likely to fall into the trap of tradition, and they tend to dominate the complicated domain. The risk of entrained thinking in the complicated domain is that innovative ideas from non-experts may be disregarded by experts interested primarily in building and reinforcing their own knowledge. As Deming observed, profound knowledge must come from outside the system—and it must be invited in. Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen as often as it should.

The Complex Domain Most people, if asked, would say that their systems qualify as complex. This may well be true in some cases, but those whose systems are really simple or complicated systems tend to think so, too. What defines a complex system? The key difference between a complex system and one that is merely complicated is the inclusion of the concept of adaptation. Figure 7 provides more detailed characteristics of complex systems. Without these characteristics (or most of them), a system is merely complicated. Cilliers’ list of complex system characteristics only implies adaptation indirectly (see the next-to-last bullet). Snowden and Boone add an important characteristic to Cilliers’ list: emergence. Essentially, emergence means that problems and solutions arise from circumstances, often unpredictably. Complex systems have large numbers of components, often called agents, that interact and adapt or learn. The key to complex systems is a high degree of adaptive capacity, making them resilient in the face of perturbation. Agents within the system have some latitude to react to those circumstances by changing the system, though both the system and its internal agents constrain one another. What kinds of systems would qualify as truly complex, and adaptive? Here’s a partial list:

Stock markets

Social insect and ant colonies

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The biosphere and the ecosystem

Brains and immune systems

Commercial business (national, international)

Any human social group-based endeavors in cultural and social systems (e.g., political parties, communities).

New product development organizations

Inventors/innovators

International relations organizations

Unconventional warfare, insurgencies, transnational crime, etc.

Conventional forces operating under maneuver warfare

Revolutionary political movements Complex systems are what Senge would refer to as learning organizations. The agents or actors within complex systems are able to observe the impact of their initiatives and adjust accordingly to achieve desired results. Kurtz and Snowden describe the complex domain: ...there are cause and effect relationships between the agents, but both the number of agents and the number of relationships defy categorization or analytic techniques. Emergent patterns can be perceived but not predicted; we call this phenomenon retrospective coherence. In this space, structured methods that seize upon such retrospectively coherent patterns and codify them into procedures will confront only new and different patterns for which they are ill prepared. Once a pattern has stabilized, its path appears logical, but it is only one of many that could have stabilized, each of which also would have appeared logical in retrospect. Patterns may indeed repeat for a time in this space, but we cannot be sure that they will continue to repeat, because the underlying sources of the patterns are not open to inspection (and observation of the system may itself disrupt the patterns). Thus, relying on expert opinions based on historically stable patterns of meaning will insufficiently prepare us to recognize and act upon unexpected patterns. The old saying that the only thing constant is change applies in complex adaptive systems. A bad quarter, a change in management, or a merger or acquisition introduce unpredictability, uncertainty, and flux. In the complex domain, it’s often only after the fact that we can understand why things happen. Perhaps the best examples are major financial collapses, such as Enron in 2000 and the international financial collapse of 2008. The dangers may have been clear to a few in each case, but it wasn’t until after events unfolded that the complex causality became clear. In fact, in complex domains most confusing or disconcerting issues that arise without apparent forewarning appear obvious in hindsight. This brings us to a critical revelation about knowledge and tools: in the complex domain, the knowledge of experts may be of limited value, and the effectiveness of cause-and-effect analysis is likely to be marginalized, or of short duration. This is not to say that expert knowledge is useless, only that its value in predicting future events is likely to be limited. Snowden and Boone cite the Apollo 13 crisis as an example. The event an—explosion in an oxygen regenerator—was never anticipated (predicted), so the astronauts and mission control team had never practiced for it. Yet the astronauts were ultimately returned safely to earth, because:

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A group of experts is put in a room with a mishmash of materials—bits of plastic and odds and ends that mirror the resources available to the astronauts in flight. Leaders tell the team: This is what you have; find a solution or the astronauts will die. None of those experts knew a priori what would work. Instead, they had to let a solution emerge from the materials at hand. And they succeeded. (Conditions of scarcity often produce more creative results than conditions of abundance.) Complicated Versus Complex: Some Final Thoughts From the preceding discussion, it might seem as if almost all systems would be complex, and almost none complicated, especially in light of the contentions of Holland and Cilliers on agents and the latitude they have to change their systems. After all, don’t most industrial operations (and even service organizations) have continuous improvement programs? Don’t these represent agent-initiated changes? Technically, the answer is “yes.” But consider the nature of most of those changes: modifications to processes or procedures. How many instances can you cite in which dramatic, systemic changes resulted from continuous improvement programs? After all, by definition “improvement” implies refinement of existing processes, not wholesale replacement or redesign. Even the shift from manual labor to computerized automation is embraced as an improvement, not as a departure from the basic interactions of system elements. Moreover, even in continuous improvement situations, any changes must invariably be approved by management, so the agents’ actual authority to effect change is arbitrarily limited. Take the automobile industry, for example. With the advent of intensive Japanese competition in the 1980s, did American automakers institute major systemic changes to the way they did business? Cars still migrated down assembly lines. Employees still assembled them the same way, though total quality initiatives modified processes and procedures. The same number of interacting elements interacted in more or less the same way. Variability and predictability improved, within already defined parameters. Drastic perturbations—emergent situations—in the external environment (or even internal operations) requiring creative, revolutionary systemic response are absent. Another example: The airline industry in the wake of 9/11. The external environment changed radically, requiring dramatic, creative responses—but the airlines themselves tried to continue business the way they had always done it, albeit with major process disruptions imposed by added security requirements. In essence, they were complicated systems operating in an environment that has become much more complex, which explains many of the difficulties they experienced adapting. In the aftermath, some airlines didn’t survive, or went into bankruptcy and reorganization. Ultimately, to the degree that we attempt to standardize operations and make processes replicable, most of our systems are really complicated, rather than complex. But the external environment in which a system operates experiences no such strictures. The most problematic situations occur when a complicated system finds itself trying to function in a complex environment. Neither its tools nor its management approach are likely to be suited for that kind of reality. Cause and effect likewise has a different applicability in a complex environment. In simple and complicated domains, process-oriented problem solving tools such as Six Sigma’s DMAIC or Five Whys are quite effective. They’re less so in emergent situations, and the efficacy of the solutions they produce are likely to be short-lived. This is not to imply that cause-and-effect is absent (or don’t apply) in the complex domain, merely that it’s not discernible or predictable a priori. After the fact, cause and effect can easily explain what happened, but often that’s too late to do system managers any good. The success of cause and effect in a complex domain will depend highly on the depth of resident knowledge about the system and its environment and how much—and how quickly—system agents can learn about them, the known unknowns, and the unknown knowns (Refer to Figure 6).

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Leaders of organizations operating in the complex domain run a serious risk. Most of them have likely come up through simple and complicated systems (or simple/complicated parts of systems). Their experience is heavily grounded in the characteristics and tools of those domains: known knowns, predictability and process-oriented tools. They expect fail-safe business plans with well-defined outcomes, and their leadership style may be more authoritarian. They may fail to realize that complex domains demand a more experimental management approach that admits some failure in the pursuit of understanding. If they find it difficult to tolerate failure— a key element in experimental learning—they may over-control their organizations and preempt opportunities for new informative patterns to emerge. The Chaotic Domain Cause-and-effect relationships are both operative and discernible in the simple and complicated domains. It’s also potentially useful in the complex domain, if the necessary content knowledge is available and it’s clearly recognized that its results can have a fairly short “shelf life” (i.e., a periodic re-do may be necessary). But as the name implies, the chaotic domain is turbulent and highly uncertain. In the chaotic domain, cause-and-effect analysis is likely to be nearly useless. Causes and effects may not be perceivable, and if they were, the environment may be changing so fast that there isn’t time to conduct an orderly cause-effect analysis. Waiting for patterns to emerge may be a waste of time, or a recipe for disaster. This is the realm of unknown unknowns, and probably even unknowables. It’s a highly tense situation, with many decisions needing to be made and no time for reflection or contemplation about them. Examples of situations in the chaotic domain would include crises, such as the 9-11 terror attacks and the Fukushima nuclear reactor meltdown, natural disasters such as the Haitian and Chilean earthquakes, post-apocalyptic society (after the breakdown of law and order), civil revolutions such as Libya experienced in 2011, and organizations with much slower decision cycles than their competitors. Disorder In the Cynefin framework, the domain of disorder abuts all the others. (See Figure 4) This is intended to signify that an organization in a given domain (simple, complicated, complex, chaotic) can easily slip into disorder. As Snowden and Boone describe it: The very nature of the fifth context—disorder—makes it particularly difficult to recognize when one is in it. Here, multiple perspectives jostle for prominence, factional leaders argue with one another, and cacophony rules. The way out of this realm is to break down the situation into constituent parts and assign each to one of the other four realms. Leaders can then make decisions and intervene in contextually appropriate ways. To summarize... The Cynefin framework (Figure 7) is designed to help decision makers—organizational leaders and system managers—understand where their system stands in the external environment. It provides knowledge about the general characteristics of the five domains in which leaders could find their systems. It helps decision makers understand what kinds of methods and tools will be likely to work in their particular organizations, and which ones won’t. The Cynefin concept provides key insight that most leaders have likely been ignorant about:

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The boundaries between simple, complicated, complex and chaotic are indistinct. Consequently, changes in external conditions or internal system modifications may push a given system from one domain to another without being aware of it, if its leaders aren’t paying attention.

A particular system may inhabit more than one domain simultaneously. For example, a vertically integrated manufacturing company my find its production subsystem in the complicated domain, but its sales and marketing may be in the complex domain (or perhaps, in the economic conditions extant in 2011, teetering on the edge of the chaotic).

The spatial relationship among the domains emphasizes how easily (or insidiously) an organization

might slip from one domain into another, possibly without noticing it.

The boundary between complicated and complex is less extreme than the boundary between the simple and the chaotic. Consequently, the failure of management to recognize a shift from complicated to complex, while problematic, is not likely to be as catastrophic as the failure to recognize a shift from simple to chaotic. But all domains are directly exposed to the zone of disorder, which should prompt leaders to heightened awareness of their sys- tem s relationship with its external environment.

Simple and complicated domains assume an ordered universe, where cause-and-effect relationships are

perceptible, and right answers can be determined based on facts. Complex and chaotic domains are unordered, meaning that there is no apparent relationship between

cause and effect. This doesn’t mean that this is no cause and effect, just that it’s not apparent or obvious. While the ordered part of the continuum (simple and complicated) can be managed based on facts, the unordered part requires intuition and recognition of patterns. Consequently, the tools and methods that work well in the simple and complicated domains tend to be less effective (or completely ineffective) in the complex and chaotic domains. IMPLICATIONS OF THE CYNEFIN NETWORK

Consider the implications of these insights. Most managers and executives climbed the corporate ladder in parts of organizations that were either simple or complicated. As a result, they learned “best practices,” or maybe just “good practices” that worked well in these environments. In most cases, the tools and methodologies were likewise very structured, prescriptive, cause-effect based, and proven to succeed in simple and complicated venues.

As managers move up the organizational ladder to positions of broader responsibility, the odds increase that the parts of the organization they are responsible for bridge the boundary between merely complicated and definitely complex, and perhaps even chaotic. They see and experience a larger number of possible outcomes and options, and greater variability in those outcomes. This happens without even considering the uncertainty associated with the evolution of the external environment. But psychologically they recognize that they reached their current position by doing the same, familiar things over and over, and doing them well.

So, they try to apply the tools, methods, and knowledge that has worked for them in the past to new domains and situations—domains that may be relatively unresponsive to the tools that were effective in the ordered domains. Is it any wonder, then, that they sense, try to analyze, and respond in situations when they should be probing, sensing, and responding—or acting, sensing, and responding? Is it any wonder that such managers avoid experimentation, with its consequent risk of failure, in favor of options with quantifiable,

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predictable costs and benefits? Actions and Knowledge

As Fayol asserted some 90 years ago, management’s functions include planning, organizing, staffing, leading, and controlling. At their most essential, the discharge of these responsibilities requires, first, decisions (what to do), and second, action.7 But action without knowledge is like running in the dark—you might get where you want to be, but you are more likely to kill yourself along the way. When one acts (or chooses not to act), three things can happen. (See Figure 8) The situation can improve, it can experience no change at all, or it can deteriorate. In other words, the action (or inaction) may be productive, non-productive, or destructive. And if the situation does change, the outcome of that decision may precipitate quickly or slowly, if it does anything at all.

Absent effective knowledge of the situation—in other words, when running in the dark—by acting your odds are only one in three of doing something productive. And if there is a range of possible actions, even if the action is productive, it might not produce favorable results as quickly as needed. The same argument could be made for inaction, whether this is a passive decision (dithering) or an active one. If the system is on an unfavorable trajectory, two of the three possible outcomes are bad, and declining the initiative (inaction) leaves the range of play-out options entirely to chance. So, as Elbert Hubbard once observed, positive anything is likely to be better than negative nothing.

But the operative word in the preceding paragraphs is knowledge. If one has it, the odds of making the right decision— act or don’t act—change. Instead of being a simple one-in-three probability, relevant knowledge shades the odds in favor of improving the situation. The Cynefin framework seems to imply the same thing. (See Figure 9) While it’s primarily designed to guide executive action, with a little modification (and some inputs from Snowden and Boone), the same framework can effectively point us in the right direction for skewing the decision odds in our favor.

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Organizations in the simple domain have nearly all the knowledge they need to make decisions that produce highly predictable outcomes. They can observe what’s going on, sort it into the appropriate pigeonhole, and respond with tried and true procedures.

Organizations in the complicated domain know some of what they need to know to make informed, effective decisions. But they also know the questions they don’t have the answers to, and they have a reasonably good idea of how to find those answers. They can’t proceed on the basis of existing knowledge, so they must sense and analyze—which may point them in the direction of searching out the information they need but don’t have.

Those in the complex domain have the knowledge available in the simple and complicated domains, but because there is far more variability and more possible scenarios, they run out of knowledge long before they run out of decisions to be made. They’re much more uncertain about what to do and how to figure it out. They may be able to research what they don’t know (if time pressures allow). Or, if the information is not readily available, they must probe by experimentation— thoughtful trial and error—sense whether their experiments seem to be succeeding or not, then respond based on those observations.

The worst case situation for an organization is to find themselves in the chaotic domain, particularly if its entire history has been in the simple or complicated domains. What they require to function effectively is unknown to them and, perhaps because of the turbulence and rapid change in the environment, it may be unknowable. In this case, the organization’s leaders must act on their best intuition, observe the immediate effects, and rapidly decide to “pour on the coals,” if the action appears effective, or rapidly respond with another option if it doesn’t. This is a domain of instinctive (as opposed to thoughtful) trial and error, with the tacit understanding that because of the chaotic environment effective solutions are likely to be short- lived. Discontinuous Innovation

It should be noted that, regardless of the domain (or combination of domains) that an organization finds

itself in, social entropy is an ever-present threat. Social entropy refers to the tendency of human networks and society in general to break down over time, moving from cooperation and advancement towards conflict and chaos. In other words, without a positive effort to hold an organization effectively on course, it will inexorably tend to run off the rails and into a ditch. In the context of our discussions on the Cynefin framework, this means that without constant attention to the changes occurring in the external environment, and the performance of the system within that environment, an organization can rapidly slip from a controllable domain (simple, complicated, even complex) into disorder.

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In other words, don’t become complacent. Keep your attention on the job at hand, but maintain a situational awareness of what’s going on outside the system, so that you can determine whether it will ultimately invalidate your knowledge base. For example, for centuries Swiss watchmakers had been refining and perfecting their skills at creating precision mechanical watches. Yet in the space of ten years, a centuries old industry came crashing down because the insular watchmakers, who dated to the craft guilds of the 17th and 18th centuries, failed to recognize the wave of the future: inexpensive quartz crystal electronic watch works that could deliver accuracies an order of magnitude better than traditional mechanical works could achieve. Instead of acknowledging the existential threat and creating ways to deal with it, they deemed it a passing fad, then ignored the technology completely—until the Japanese captured a significant segment of the timepiece market and the Swiss watch industry had collapsed to a shadow of its former self.

Knowing what we do now about the Cynefin framework, we can see that the Swiss watch industry was badly overwhelmed because it was a simple system (or, at most, complicated) whose environment radically changed under its feet to become chaotic. The Swiss watch industry fell victim to a phenomenon known as disruptive innovation because it failed to perceive the quartz-digital technology as a threat to its market niche. So, it ignored the threat.

The nature of today’s global economy and geopolitics, combined with the rapid expansion of technology over the past several decades, is such that discontinuous innovation is now a way of life for organizations and systems everywhere. Generational cycles are becoming shorter. The threat of entropy demands constant attention of decision makers, not only on their own internal operations but on developments in the external environment as well—developments that may invalidate their world view (and what their organizations are doing). The risk of an organization finding itself slipping into the chaotic domain is higher than ever. CHARTING AN EXECUTIVE COURSE

With the evolution of management since Taylor and Fayol, with the complications imposed by globalization, technology advancement, and the increasing uncertainty of the external environment, what’s an executive to do? Nobody wants to be a cork bobbing on the flood waters, but the alternative is a scattershot approach— rummaging in the management toolbox, looking for the “silver bullet” panacea, followed by trial-and-error to see what works or fails, ultimately gravitating toward a flavor of the month, repeated disillusionment, lost time (and, possibly, opportunity), and ultimately organizational confusion.

Could there possibly be any doubts that the management toolbox (Figure 10) is flooded with tools of all manner, shape, and purpose? A quick look at the tools and methodologies list8 in Appendix 1 should put any contrary notions to rest. The real challenge, as the cat in the basement at midnight ruefully appreciates when the light comes on, is which mouse to pursue.

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The holy grail of managers everywhere is what the physicists refer to as a unified field theory—an

attempt to consolidate the laws of physics into a single grand framework—in other words, a theory of everything. Physicists have, so far, failed to find such a theory. The Cynefin Framework is probably not the management equivalent, but it does offer a means to “put the pieces together” in such a way that they can be compared, make sense, and guide decision makers in choosing the methods and tools that will offer the greatest potential for helping them overcome the obstacles and constraints to achieving their organizations’ goals. COMPARING METHODS AND CYNEFIN DOMAINS

John F. Kennedy once observed that success has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan. In business, successes are usually trumpeted, while failures are normally buried in obscurity. Consequently, it may be difficult to find practitioners willing to advertise that “we failed to achieve positive results with [name your chosen methodology of the month],” but successes typically find their way into the popular management journals of the day. Nevertheless, the memory of the failures takes on a life of its own, and with the passage of time all that is recalled is that the method failed. Rarely are methodological failures rationally analyzed to establish their cause. What lives on, however, is the conviction that “we won’t try that methodology again!”

So, how does a decision maker use the Cynefin Framework to choose the methods and tools with the highest probability of success? The first step would be to learn more about the domains of the Cynefin Framework, and with adequate understanding, decide which domain(s) describe the external environment we believe our organization resides within. Remember, the answer to this may not be clear cut. As often as not, a given organization may overlap more than one domain. Certain parts of the organization may clearly lie in the complicated environment, for example, while others may decidedly operate in conditions of complexity.

The second step would be to examine the nature of our systems themselves. Do they qualify as simple, complicated, complex, or chaotic—according to the characteristics identified by Snowden and Boone? It’s important not to lose sight of the fact that there are two factors involved here: the system and its external environment. A system constituted to succeed in a simple or complicated environment will find itself desperately floundering in a complex or chaotic environment. That environment might start out well matched with a particular system but evolve to a different one. Without a commensurate adaptation, the organization can expect an increasingly entropic result—more disorder or randomness (and who wants that?!). Conversely, a system constituted to function effectively in a complex or chaotic environment that subsequently finds

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itself in a simple or merely complicated environment may experience a kind of anxiety that motivates people to tamper with already effective operations or otherwise introduce disruptions and instability. (“It can’t be that easy...let’s tweak it!”)

Once decision makers have a reasonably good grasp on their organizations’ “place in the firmament,” it’s time to start a toolbox inventory. If we’re comfortably ensconced in a system that’s operating effectively within its environment, even if that position is somewhere between domains, we could continue to rest on our laurels and risk becoming complacent. But if we’re smart, we’ll be looking for ways to push the edge of the organizational performance envelope while maintaining effective control. If we’re uncomfortable with our situation, concerned about the future, or perhaps sensing control of our circumstances slipping away, we will likewise be searching, but in this case for ways to restore our equilibrium and restore forward progress.

In either case, the choice of methods and tools is critical. It’s not as simplistic as driving a nail into a wall with a screwdriver, or “when your only tool is a hammer, all problems start looking like nails.” The consequences of using an inappropriate approach could be traumatic, perhaps even fatal. So, what’s the prescription? Finding “the Handle”

If we look inside the management tool box, we find that there’s no shortage of methods to choose from. The question is, “What’s the right tool for the job?” A cursory examination of all the possible tools a decision maker might use to guide his or her system effectively would likely show a distribution that resembles Figure 11. Each of the dots in the cells of the matrix represents a method or tool.

There are two levels of the system under consideration—strategic and tactical—and two general classes of tools, qualitative and quantitative. Notice that the preponderance of tools available to managers lies in the quantitative cells, and most of those are at the tactical level. This reflects the reality that most tools, methods, software, support aids, measurement devices, etc., are intended and designed to assist with process control and management. The number of tools and methods designed for strategic needs is considerably fewer, and many of those are qualitative.

In a limited discussion such as this one, it's not possible to examine all the tools in detail. Moreover, sorting existing tools and methods by appropriate Cynefin domain has never been really done in more than a superficial way—and that only by Cynefin specialists. This offers fertile ground for more concerted

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research. But for the purposes of this paper, we’ll confine our examination to a few key methodologies, some well-known and others not so much. “Begin With the End in Mind”: Strategic-Qualitative Tools

In his landmark book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Covey recommended starting “with the end in mind.” Sage advice, because if you don’t know where you’re going, then any path will do.

Determining direction and destination of an organization is a senior executive strategic responsibility, with input and advice from the system s owners, whether represented by a commercial board of directors, a non-for-profit board of trustees, or the owners directly. So, let's start with the strategic cells in Figure 11.

Clearly, some rational method of strategy development is desirable for all organizations, and in the simple, complicated, and complex domains it’s not unreasonable to expect to find one. The chaotic domain, by definition, is not hospitable to rational approaches. In fact, Snowden and Boone make a point of emphasizing that the simple and complicated domains are the realm of logical cause and effect, but that it becomes less effective in the complex domain and virtually ineffective in the chaotic. The Logical Thinking Process

Perhaps the preeminent methodology in the realm of cause and effect is the Logical Thinking Process (LTP) conceived by E.M. Goldratt. (Refer to Appendix 2 for examples of the LTP.)

There are other cause-and-effect methods, but the LTP is the most rigorous and comprehensive, and it has proven applications in strategy development and deployment. Yet this method has its limitations, too. (See Figure 12)

The LTP has proven its effectiveness in solving system problems in the simple and complicated domains for 20 years. It has also been applied with success in the complex domain as well, but because complex-adaptive systems continue to evolve, cause-effect relationships determined in the complex domain may have a limited “shelf life.” Changing environmental conditions can make obsolete problem analyses and solutions developed with the thinking process, in either an evolutionary or revolutionary way.

This phenomenon of changing environments, perhaps the most prominent characteristic of the complex domain, means that although the Logical Thinking Process can be used to develop strategy or to solve system problems, it really constitutes “a snapshot in time,” reflecting the conditions and prescriptions extant at the time of the LTP analysis. So, leaders in complex domains can’t put the system “on autopilot” after

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an LTP analysis. They must continually monitor changing system performance and environmental conditions, watching for changes that could degrade the effectiveness of the solution or strategy. When such a deviation is identified, the LTP must be applied again to the newly evolved situation.

The key to useful, continuing application of the LTP in the complex domain is system knowledge. (See Figure 13) A continuing cycle of LTP corrections or new analyses depends on a continual infusion of new information. We already have the “known knowns.” In the complex domain, as the external environment evolves, the importance of filling in the blanks in the known-unknown and unknown-known areas takes on added importance. Even more, a continuing flow of new information in a constantly changing environment is the lifeblood that keeps the LPT relevant in the complex domain, and even extends its utility (light shaded part of the arc in Figure 12). That’s why the complex domain represents the ragged edge of utility for cause and effect.

So, to briefly summarize, the Logical Thinking Process can be an eminently useful method to solve problems and develop strategies for systems in the simple and complicated domains. It can also be effective in the complex domain, but that effectiveness is limited by the quality, reliability, and perishability of the knowledge that forms the substance of the logic trees. This means that the complex domain represents “the ragged edge” of LTP effectiveness. It remains so only to the extent that practitioners continually monitor the environment for significant changes and update their thinking process analyses to incorporate those changes. Fortunately, the LTP lends itself to rapid updating. The OODA Loop

Conceived by John R. Boyd, the OODA loop is a structured pattern of observation, orientation, decision, and action. [59] (See Figure 14)

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The OODA sequence begins with careful observation of the external environment. Those observations

are then integrated with the observer’s “world view”—the orientation step. That integration produces either congruency (i.e., observers see what they expect to see) or some kind of mismatch—in other words, the observed phenomena are unexpected. When that happens, the orientation step becomes a much more comprehensive activity, as reflected in Figure 14. Nevertheless, the outcome of orientation becomes the input of the decision step, i.e., what to do about the mismatch. That decision prompts action to close the gap between reality and expectations, the final step of the first OODA pass.

But it’s called a loop for a reason. The action step is intended to change either the system or the external environment. Ideally, this change should narrow the gap determined in the orientation stage, but in complex or chaotic domains especially, one can never be sure. So, the next rational thing to do is observe the results of the action, along with any other unfolding circumstances in the environment that may not have been happening the first time around. And a whole new cycle of the OODA loop begins again.

OODA loop cycles can be either fast or slow, or somewhere in between. Whether the cycle is fast or slow depends on the nature of the system in question, the speed at which it senses and analyzes mismatches, the rate of environmental change, and how fast changes can be executed. Boyd’s original application of the OODA loop was in the context of maneuver warfare, with minute-by-minute or hour-by-hour changes in the battlefield situation. But since the advent of the OODA loop, businesses have been applying it in their competitive environments, the rate of change of which is much slower than on a battlefield, perhaps as long as weeks or months.

Regardless of the nominal OODA cycle time, however, in a competitive environment the party with the faster OODA loop cycle—often referred to as the decision cycle—gains a decisive advantage over its competitor. It’s important to keep in mind that while speed is important, and sometimes even an imperfect action taken immediately can be better than a perfect one later, any action taken should be better than the situation it replaces, or there’s a serious risk of doing the wrong things faster.

People or organizations able to jump out to a lead of two or more decision cycles can quickly drive their competitors into confusion and ultimately into total collapse.

Like the Logical Thinking Process, the OODA loop is a qualitative tool. Though it accepts quantitative data in the observation step, it ultimately depends on intuitive knowledge to capitalize on any such data. And like the thinking process, the OODA loop is effective in multiple domains. In fact, it is even more broadly applicable than the LTP. (See Figure 15)

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The OODA loop can be effective in the simple and complicated Cynefin domains, but it really displays its value in the chaotic domain, and beyond the “ragged edge” of the LTP in the complex domain. In fact, the two tools integrate very well together in those areas where they overlap. The LTP is a potentially powerful means of “orienting” decision makers and developing options for the decision stage. Brainstorming

Brainstorming is the original idea generation methodology. It was conceived in the early 1940s by Alex Osborn, then executive vice president of Batten, Barton, Durstine and Osborn (BBDO), one of the largest advertising agencies in the world. Brainstorming filled the need of an industry whose lifeblood was new ideas, yet one in which proffered ideas were suffocated by an atmosphere of “No, no, a thousand times no.” Osborn’s concept put BBDO on top of the advertising world, and its dissemination throughout the business world has made it perhaps the most widely accepted problem-solving technique ever developed.

Brainstorming is most certainly a qualitative tool—and a “right brain” tool, at that. It enjoys the virtue of applying to circumstances in any of the four Cynefin domains. Moreover, it can integrate effectively with other qualitative tools, such as the Logical Thinking Process and the OODA loop. But it is useful at the tactical level as well as the strategic. Getting Down to Nuts and Bolts: Tactical-Quantitative Tools

The simple and complicated Cynefin domains are the realm of most of the tools and methods we typically associate with modern business management. Most of these methods are quantitative to some degree (maybe entirely), and they are primarily intended to address the tactical issues of day-to-day business performance. Most of these methods extend over into the complex domain to the degree that they are adaptable to changing circumstances. It’s in the complex domain that we see applications of methods such as lean, six sigma, and business process reengineering that aren’t exactly “orthodox.” They may have been modified to accommodate situations that the “book solution” doesn’t address. If such adaptation compromises the ultimate effectiveness of the method, it may be safe to assume that the methods or tools are pressing the outer edge of the envelope for which they are optimized.

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Figure 16 provides a conceptual overview of the relationship between methods and Cynefin domains. It’s by no means complete—there just isn’t room in this diagram to show all possible tools and methods. But combined with the message of Figure 11, it’s sufficient to convey the idea: some tools and methods work better in various circumstances than others. And perhaps most important, with the aid of the Cynefin Framework, it’s possible to predict with reasonable assurance which methods will produce the desired results in a given situation (a combination of system type and environment) and which ones aren’t likely to do so.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

Where does this discussion leave us? Here are some of the conclusions we can assert:

The evolution of management over the past century, from Taylor and Fayol through Drucker and Deming, has been a process of continuing search, trial and error, deduction and induction, figuring out what works, what works better, and what doesn’t work very well at all.

There is no shortage of management methods and tools. However, the preponderance of these are

tactical and quantitative. Strategic, qualitative management aids are considerably fewer in number. Some methods and tools have realized significant successes in a variety of situations, while failing to

meet expectations in others. Until now, there hasn’t been an obvious underlying principle to explain this phenomenon.

What has been missing in much of the study of management has been a top-down approach—from the

general to the specific, the strategic to the tactical. The emphasis in most management methods has historically been on analysis—the division of complex

systems into “manageable bites.” The underlying assumption—that the parts can be individually improved and “glued back together” to produce the best-performing sys- tem—ignores the interactive effects of the system’s parts. A synthesis approach, in concert with analysis, is required to achieve effective system success.

Systems and their external environments can be classified as simple, complicated, complex, and

chaotic. This taxonomy is known as the Cynefin Framework. The difference between a system and its environment, as they relate to these categories, is a matter of focus. Classifying an environment in one of the four domains is an exercise in external observation. Doing the same for a system is an exercise in internal examination.

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A particular system or organization may have components that operate (with varying degrees of success) in different domains simultaneously. For example, a production process may be considered almost exclusively complicated, but the marketing function that pro- motes the sales of what production delivers may be complex.

Until the advent of the Cynefin Framework, there was no orderly way to evaluate the interaction of

organizational systems, their external environments, and the myriad of management methods and tools available to decision makers.

A significant number of organizations today qualify as complex, meaning that their environment may

change in short but irregular, unpredictable cycles, requiring the organization to adapt internally accordingly to avoid degradation.

The majority of available management methods and tools have been designed to succeed in simple and

complicated domains. It wasn’t intended this way, but the failure to identify and understand the underlying assumptions about these methods made it inevitable. Without extraordinary efforts, their effectiveness begins to deteriorate the deeper into the complex do- main the organization is forced to operate. A typical example is the decreasing utility of cause-effect analysis the farther into the complex domain one goes. By the time one reaches the chaotic domain, cause-effect is nearly useless, because the situation changes faster than cause and effect can be determined.

The closer to the chaotic domain a system or its environment come, the greater the dependence on

intuitive decision making, command-control leadership skills, and faster OODA loop cycles becomes. Without a sense-making framework such as Cynefin, decisions about which methods or tools to use in a particular situation become a trial-and-error, hit-and-miss proposition. How many times has a management team embraced a philosophy or methodology—Total Quality Management, for instance—promoted by a particular expert or consulting company, sometimes as a panacea, only to be disappointed with the results? There are obviously other factors instrumental to success, such as organizational psychology and change management. But with an effective foundational understanding of where a particular system resides “in the firmament,” the choice of appropriate methods can dramatically enhance the probability of success of the system’s improvement efforts, making the jobs of organizational psychologists and change agents much easier.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity L421: Reading B

Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaw? Author: Uri Bar-Joseph

Abstract

During the decade after the 1973 War of Yom Kippur, the consensus was that Israel's military defeat in the war’s first stage was caused by the failure of intelligence to provide a warning prior to the Arab attack, but many experts maintained later that it reflected improper preparations for war. Using recently released evidence, this article analyzes Israel’s inadequate war deployment when firing commenced and its impact on the failure to repel the attack. It concludes that since this deficient deployment resulted from the absence of a sufficient intelligence warning, the intelligence failure was at the root of the Israeli failure at the war’s start. Introduction

The first stage of the 1973 War of Yom Kippur (the War of Ramadan or the October War in Arab terminology) constitutes the worst defeat in Israel's military history. The Syrian-Egyptian attack, which started on 6 October at 2:00 p.m., came as an almost-complete surprise to the Israelis. In the south, five Egyptian mechanized divisions crossed the Suez Canal with only minor losses. They occupied some forts of the Bar-Lev defense line and encircled the rest, thus creating a solid bridgehead in the Israeli-held Sinai Peninsula. On the morning of 7 October, the Southern Command of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) was left with fewer than 110 tanks out of the approximately 300 with which they had started the war. They had to block an Egyptian army of close to 100,000 soldiers, supported by hundreds of tanks, until the arrival of Israel's reserve army. In the north, three Syrian infantry divisions, supported by 600 tanks and about 80 artillery batteries, attacked Israel's defense line in the Golan on 6 October. By the early hours of the next day, the southern sector of the defense line had collapsed, and there were no ground forces to stop the Syrian tanks from invading Israel at its pre-1967 borders. In the air, two major operations carried out on the morning of 7 October to destroy the Arab antiaircraft layouts – Operations Tagar (Quarrel 4) in the south and Dugman (Model 5) in the north – completely failed at a high cost. Their failure prevented the Israeli Air Force (IAF) from effectively participating in the ground warfare throughout most of the war. Given that the IAF had been allocated about 50 percent of the IDF's annual budget during the period of 1967-73 and that it had carried much of the burden during the War of Attrition in 1969-70, its inability to provide the expected results in October 1973 was a major setback to Israel's military effort.

The dire situation on the battlefield had a considerable effect on the Israeli leadership. Following a visit

to the IDF command post in the north, about sixteen hours after the war started, Defense Minister Moshe Dayan concluded that this might be the end of “the Third Temple,” meaning the end of the Israeli state. According to a general's evidence, Dayan wept when he said it. A few hours later, during a visit to the war room in the south, Dayan suggested making a deep withdrawal in the Sinai. If accepted by the IDF command, such a move could have led to a complete defeat on this front. Upon returning to Tel Aviv, Dayan described the grim situation on both fronts to Prime Minister Golda Meir. By some accounts, following this discussion she started contemplating suicide. In the aftermath of his talk with the Prime Minister, he offered his resignation. Golda Meir rejected his offer.

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The speedy arrival of the Israeli reserve army to the fronts on 7 October brought this stage of the war to its end. By the early evening hours of 7 October, the situation in the Golan and in the Sinai had been stabilized, and the IDF was planning counteroffensives on both fronts for the next day. The attack in the north succeeded, and by 10 October the IDF had regained almost all of its territorial losses in the Golan. Although the offensive in the south was a complete failure, the IDF had accumulated sufficient forces on this front to block any additional Egyptian offensive, even after its 8 October defeat. The Debate

Until the early 1990s, the consensus among most students of this dark chapter in Israel's military history was that the main cause of the failure was the element of strategic surprise. This surprise was the outcome of the failure by Military Intelligence (AMAN), Israel's sole national intelligence estimator in 1973, to provide, on the eve of the war, a warning that war was highly likely. Despite the fact that AMAN had an almost-perfect picture of the deployment of the Egyptian and Syrian armies along the border with Israel, as well as numerous other war indications and information obtained from reliable Arab sources (including King Hussein of Jordan) that Egypt and Syria planned an attack, AMAN's experts estimated twenty-four hours before the outbreak of the war that "the probability that the Egyptians intend to renew fighting is low . . . . [and] the probability of a Syrian independent (without Egypt) action remains low." On the basis of this estimate the Chief of Staff avoided demanding the mobilization of the reserve army and additional moves. He changed his mind only ten hours before firing commenced, after he received a warning from the head of the Institute for Intelligence and Special Tasks (the Mossad), Major General (Res.) Zvi Zamir, who had been informed in a meeting with a top Egyptian source that war would start on 6 October. Zamir’s source was Dr. Ashraf Marwan, a close advisor of President Anwar Sadat and a son-in-law of the late President Gamal Abdel Nasser.

That surprise was the main cause of Israel's military failures at the beginning of the war was the

conclusion of the Agranat Commission, the only official investigation into the war. The larger share of senior IDF officers agreed. The Chief of Staff in 1973, Lieutenant General David Elazar, assessed that a warning twenty hours in advance would have been sufficient to prevent the catastrophe. His predecessor, Lieutenant General (Res.) Haim Bar-Lev, who was nominated during the war to command the Suez front, maintained that "it was all the outcome of the surprise." Likewise, Major General (Res.) Avraham Adan, a division commander on the southern front, was firm in his conviction that "had we received an early warning . . . . the picture would have been completely different." And Major General Yitzhak Hofi, the commander of the Northern Command, estimated that "if a mobilization of the reserves had taken place in time, at least of one tank brigade, the whole picture of the fighting in the first two days would have been completely different." Academic scholars tended to agree as well.

Confronting this thesis, more and more studies of recent years maintain that the main source for Israel's

initial defeats was not strategic surprise but fundamental flaws in the IDF's preparations for the next war, mainly in its operational plans, force structure, and the poor quality of staff work. Major General Eli Zeira, who served as the Director of Military Intelligence (AMAN) in 1973, maintained that overconfidence led the IDF to make unrealistic plans for the coming war by depending on regular forces alone to prevent any Arab achievement, in both the Suez and the Golan, without the support of the IAF, which was to destroy the Arab antiaircraft systems during the first forty-eight hours of the war. Mordechai Gazit, the General Manager of the Prime Minister's office in 1973, regarded the source of the problem not as insufficient warning, but as a mistaken military assertion that the post-1967 borders would enable Israel to repulse any coordinated, simultaneous surprise attack by Egypt and Syria. Ina similar manner, Eliot Cohen and John Gooch emphasized the impact of the great victory in 1967, which had prevented the Israelis from properly assessing the true capabilities of the Egyptian and Syrian armies and led them to rely on an unrealistic

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balance of forces on the front prior to the outbreak of the war. And Zeev Maoz concluded that had strategic warning been provided in time to allow a complete war deployment of the IDF in the Suez and the Golan, the situation could have been even worse: In the north, the Syrian failure to occupy the entire Golan Heights had less to do with the Israeli surprise and more to do with fundamental weaknesses of the Syrian army, and in the south, more Israeli tanks could be hit by Egyptian antitank missiles without blocking the crossingforces.1Other analysts emphasized the improvements that had taken place between 1967 and 1973 in Egyptian and Syrian weaponry and command and control. Arab accounts of the war tend to emphasize this point as well. Egypt's leader, Sadat, regarded the Egyptian air strike at the outset of the war as the key to Egypt’s military success during the war's first stage. A semi-official history of the Egyptian Air Force (which quotes Sadat) paints this air strike in very bright colors as well. The Egyptian army’s chief of staff in 1973, Lieutenant General Saad elShazly, maintained that the key to Egypt's military achievement was the excellent preparation of his army for war, as well as the fact that the Egyptian strategy combined limited territorial goals with maximal employment of force. His operations officer, who planned the war and replaced him in its aftermath, regarded the war's prudent and detailed planning as the main cause for the Egyptian success.

An in-depth analysis of the course of the fighting led many observers to pinpoint other weaknesses of the IDF. Most of them agree that its unbalanced force structure was a major source of its initial failure. Following the war of 1967, the IDF allocated most of its resources to air power and tank forces at the expense of other elements, primarily the infantry, artillery, and combat engineering. The result was an army in which the ability of the tank to meet all types of challenges in ground warfare and of the IAF to provide close air support and to decide the war was overestimated. As the war showed, the tanks were surprised, mainly on the Egyptian front, by the massive use of personal antitank weapons, and the IAF was unable to provide effective air support because it had failed to destroy the Arab antiaircraft layouts and had to perform in a zone defended by ground-to-air missiles throughout most of the war. Other observers emphasize different elements. The IAF commander in the war, Major General Benny Peled, blamed the ineffective air support on the lack of cooperation between Military Intelligence, which was to provide the operational intelligence, and the IAF, which was supposed to launch the attacks. The poor quality of staff work and operational discipline, which manifested itself on the eve of the war and during the first days of fighting, is also cited as a major cause for its poor outcome during the initial stage.

In order to systematically address this debate, I will identify six Israeli decisions – two concerning the

Suez front, two in the Golan, and two in the use of the IAF – which led to the military catastrophe. By analyzing the nature of these mistakes, their context, and their sources, I will show that despite certain deficiencies in war preparations, the primary source of the IDF's failure at the outset of the war was indeed the element of strategic surprise. The Mistakes Responsible for the Military Failure The Suez Front

The grave situation on the Suez front, which became apparent in the early morning hours of 7 October, was the outcome of two developments. First was the ease with which the Egyptian divisions crossed the canal and reached their operational goals. Second was the fact that only a third of the IDF force that had been tasked to defend the Sinai under a worst-case surprise attack scenario was actually operational. This was the result of two errors.

The first error was that the forts of the Bar Lev line were mostly manned by second-rate reserve soldiers rather than the high-quality regular service paratroopers specified by plans in case of war. The soldiers

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assigned to the central and northern sectors of the line belonged to Battalion 68 of Brigade 16 (the Jerusalem territorial brigade). This battalion had not previously been deployed to the Bar Lev line. Many of its soldiers were relatively old, poorly trained, and lacking in combat experience. Moreover, since their service was to take place during the Jewish high holidays, the command of the brigade had selected for this particular mission many reservists who had escaped service on previous occasions, as a form of what was termed “educational punishment.”

Making matters worse was the fact that some of the forts were understaffed, and fourteen out of thirty

were not manned at all. None of them were prepared for war, and information that war would break out reached the soldiers there only minutes before firing commenced. Thus, rather than serving as a means to interrupt the Egyptian crossing, the forts turned into a liability. Lack of professional training and preparation for the coming events led the reserve soldiers to demand assistance or to be rescued immediately after fire commenced. Henceforth, assisting and rescuing them rather than fighting the Egyptian forces became the main task of Division 252 during the war's first night.

The way in which the Bar Lev line fell led a number of experts to maintain that the professional concept

behind it was mistaken from the start. Some even maintained that its collapse in 1973 was inevitable. Yet, one has to remember that a similar concept of defense was employed on the Golan Heights, where none of the strongholds were taken, with the exception of the isolated Hermon fort. Therefore, it seems that the variance in the fate between the two defense lines has less to do with the fundamental concept itself and more to do with the way they were prepared for war: In the north, the line was ready for war and the strongholds were manned by high-quality regular service infantry soldiers. They were staffed, moreover, with forward observation officers and surgeons. Consequently, even when encircled by the Syrian army, they continued participating effectively in battle, reporting back to central command, and repulsing Syrian attacks. None of these essential elements were in place in the Bar Lev line, and this was the reason for its rapid collapse.

The second mistake that decided the fate of the battle on the southern front was the decision, made by

the Command's head, Major General Shmuel Gonen, to delay the deployment of the main bulk of his available force, the 300 tanks of Division 252, until the afternoon hours of 6 October. Gonen gave this order despite the fact that the Chief of Staff had instructed him personally at 6:00a.m. to prepare for the war that was expected to start at 6:00 p.m. By his own account, he did so because he was not certain that Egypt would start a war at all and because he wanted to avoid a too-early large-scale deployment that might provoke the Egyptians to start firing. Since the expected "H" hour was 6:00 p.m., he instructed the commander of Division 252 to avoid breaking routine activity until 4:00 p.m.31

The emergency plan for war in the south, Shovach Yonim (Dovecote),called for the disposition of two

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tank brigades (220 tanks) between the water line and the Artillery Road, about 8 to 10 kilometers east of the canal. A third brigade (110 tanks) was to be deployed between the Artillery Road and the Lateral Road, about 25 kilometers from the canal. In addition, 21 batteries of 155mm and175mm self-propelled guns, capable of covering the canal crossing zones by laying down fire, were to be deployed as well. Had Gonen ordered at 7:00 a.m. that this deployment plan be carried out, most of the forces could have been ready for war when the firing started. As a result of his decision, however, only three tanks were in their positions at 2:00 p.m., and most of the force was still hours away from its deployment areas. Consequently, the first waves of the Egyptian crossing forces met no Israeli resistance at all, precisely at the stage when they were most vulnerable.

Each of the five Egyptian divisions used a regiment of 144 rubber boats (720 boats altogether) for

crossing. During the first hours of the war, they transferred 32,000 soldiers to the Israeli side of the canal in twelve waves without meeting any resistance. What would have been the outcome had the boats crossed the canal under fire from at least 100 tank guns as well as artillery, machine gun fire from the forts, and air bombardment? Under such circumstances, it is quite probable that hundreds of boats would have been hit and that the rate of the Egyptian crossing operation would have been far slower. Had the Israelis received a three- to five-day warning, there would have been seventy-two artillery batteries in place on the front, and the results could have been even more devastating for the Egyptians. In addition, since the firing positions of the Israeli tanks were empty when the first waves of the crossing took place, the Egyptian infantry occupied them. Using personal antitank guided missiles (“Sagger”) and RPG-7 rocket launchers, they hit the Israeli tanks in the midst of approaching their positions, causing them heavy casualties.

Altogether, the combination of the completely unprepared Bar Lev line and the unnecessary delay in the deployment of Gonen's available forces led to the fall of Israel's first defense line on the Suez front, with hardly any disruption to the Egyptian crossing, while two-thirds of the 300-tank force of Division 252were lost (as compared with 122 tanks lost in the occupation of the Sinai Peninsula in the 1967 war). The Golan Heights

The severity of the situation in the Golan became clear about eight hours after the war began, when reports of Syrian tanks in the Hushniya area started arriving. Two hours later, at midnight, it became evident that Syrian tanks had advanced about eight kilometers into the Golan, and by 2:00 a.m. on 7 October, the IDF force on the southern sector of the front was left with only half of its tanks –about thirty-seven. By

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4:00 a.m., Syrian tanks had arrived at the Gamla ascent over the Sea of Galilee. At this stage, when at least four Syrian armored and mechanized brigades (43, 46, 51, and 132) broke into the southern sector of the Golan, no viable Israeli force was available to block their way into the Jordan Valley.

The collapse of the southern defense sector in the Golan was the outcome of two fundamental mistakes. The first involved the way in which the IDF was deployed when the war began. The second took place shortly after firing commenced.

The IDF had three deployment plans for this front. The first two were to meet local challenges aimed

at, for example, a Syrian attempt to capture a civilian settlement or a fort or two. In order to meet such threats, Plan Hol Yam(Sea Sand), which was solely based on regular forces, called for the deployment, in preplanned positions, of one tank brigade (100 tanks), ten artillery batteries, and three high-quality infantry battalions within twenty-four hours from warning. Plan Gir (Chalk), which called for the deployment of an additional reserve tank brigade (altogether 222 tanks) and five more artillery batteries, necessitated a warning time of thirty-six hours. The IDF's plan for an all-out war with Syria (in parallel to an all-out war with Egypt) was Plan Sela (Rock), which required a warning time of forty-eight hours. This plan involved the deployment of 693 tanks and 258 artillery pieces to face 1,300 Syrian tanks, as well as 700 artillery pieces on the front line, out of a Syrian arsenal of 1,650 tanks and 1,600 artillery pieces.

Since the Syrian buildup for war started in late August and since Israel lacked strategic depth in the

Golan, which was populated by civilian settlements, Israeli awareness of the looming threat in the north was higher than in the south. Yet, in light of AMAN's insistence that Egypt did not intend to launch a war and that Syria would not initiate a war without Egypt, the main concern of Defense Minister Dayan and the IDF high command was a small-scale Syrian attack. This was the logic behind the gradual process of reinforcement in the Golan that started on 26September. Altogether, on the morning of 6 October, the IDF order of battle (OB) there amounted to 176 tanks (77 from Brigade 188 and the rest from Brigade 7); eleven artillery batteries (two 160mm heavy mortars, seven 155mm medium artillery, and two 175mm heavy artillery); two high-quality regular service infantry battalions (Battalion 13 of the Golani Brigade and Battalion 50 of the Paratroopers Brigade) manning the line, including the forts; and one mechanized infantry battalion. Although it was far from the planned OB for an all-out war, it could suffice, under certain circumstances, to prevent a catastrophe until the reserve army arrived.

Here, however, the first mistake came into play. At 6:00 a.m., the Chief of Staff ordered the commander

of the Northern Command, Major General Yitzhak Hofi, to prepare for war, which was expected to start at 6:00 p.m. At 10:00a.m., Hofi met the commanders of the three brigades in his command (188, 7, and territorial brigade 820) and informed them that the war would start at 6:00 p.m. However, he did not order them to deploy for war and returned to Tel Aviv for an additional meeting at general headquarters (GHQ). Thus, when firing commenced, his command was still deployed for a local clash rather than for a full-scale war.

According to Plan Gir (the defense of the Golan by two tank brigades), the front was to be divided into

two regimental sectors. In each, one battalion was to be deployed at the front and two others in the rear. Each brigade commander was to filter the information from his sector to the rear in order to enable the Command's war room to properly digest the vast quantities of operational information and to conduct a high-quality decision-making process. In addition, two separate advance supply centers were to be established in order to efficiently provide the two brigades with the necessary logistics for fighting.

However, the Gir order was not given, and therefore the front was not divided into two regimental

sectors. Most of the tanks of Brigade 188 that were deployed on the front were not in their positions when

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firing commenced, and the tanks of Brigade 7 were still in battalion concentrations at the rear. The Command's war room was set up in the Nafakh camp, at the center of the Golan, together with the war rooms of Brigades 188, 7, and 820. Only one advance supply center was in existence, creating a cumbersome and risky situation in which a Syrian breakthrough in the front's center could have destroyed the ability of the whole force in the Golan to continue fighting.

The main outcomes of this deployment became evident shortly after the war started. Since there were no regimental war rooms that could filter the flow of information to the Northern Command's war room, the front's command and control system almost collapsed when firing commenced. The commander of Brigade 7, Colonel Avigdor Ben-Gal, described the chaotic situation there about forty minutes after the Syrians opened fire:

The war room bunker was an unbelievable mess. I will not exaggerate if I say that there were there

about 200 persons – commanders, soldiers, women soldiers, and all sorts of functionaries. The war rooms of the command, of the territorial brigade of the 188 Brigade and the first elements of Division 36 were located in the same hall [of about 50 sq. meters]. Ben Shoham, the commander of 188, ran the operations as if it was a regular local incident.

The order to divide the front into two sectors was given only at 4:00 p.m., when Hofi returned to his

command post in Nafah. By then, however, it was too late. At2:45 p.m., the second mistaken decision had been made in the battle for the defense of the Golan.

Israel had been in possession of the plan for a Syrian offensive since April 1973. An updated version

of the plan was delivered during a secret meeting between King Hussein of Jordan and Prime Minister Golda Meir on the evening of 25 September. On 30 September, the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency provided Israel with the same plan. It was distributed by AMAN on 2 October, together with an estimate that war was unlikely.

According to the plan, the main effort of the Syrian army was to take place in the Rapid area, about

fifteen kilometers south of Kuneitra, in the southern sector of the Israeli defense line. However, the officers of the IDF Northern Command were not aware of this document. Instead, they expected that the main Syrian effort would be staged in the Kuneitra open land area in the northern sector of the front. Acting on this assumption, the Command's Assistant Chief of Staff G3 (operations), Lieutenant Colonel Uri Simhoni, authorized the dispatch of Brigade 7, the Command's reserve force, to the northern sector of the front in order to block what he deemed to be the center of gravity of the Syrian attack. He did so despite the fact that prior to 3:30 p.m., when the first Syrian tanks crossed the border, it was not yet possible to identify the offensive's main thrust.

The Nevo report, which was prepared as part of the official investigation of the war by the Agranat

Commission, assessed this decision as "perhaps the most decisive decision in the battle of the Golan Heights." Its gravity became clear as the evening hours approached, when battlefield reports indicated that the pressure of the offensive was increasing, despite earlier expectations that the Syrians were not prepared for night fighting. Even more importantly, it became apparent that the main Syrian effort was not concentrated in the north, where Brigade 7 faced no considerable pressure that night, but rather in the south, where 360 out of 600Syrian tanks were deployed. The southern sector was held by Brigade 188, which had only 76 tanks, as compared with more than 100 in Brigade 7.

Consequently, the situation in the southern sector deteriorated rapidly. By 10 p.m., the Syrians had

penetrated the line of defense in the Hushniya area, and by midnight the tanks of Brigade 46 had already

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advanced eight kilometers into Israeli-held territory and had taken positions along the Tapline road, about ten kilometers south of the central command post at Nafakh. Mechanized Brigade132 penetrated the line a few kilometers to the south. At 1:20 a.m., the commander of the Northern Command and his aides left the war room in Nafakh and returned to Command's central command post in Mount Canaan near the town of Safed in the Galilee. By 2:00 a.m., Brigade 188 was left with fewer than forty tanks.

In order to prevent a Syrian breakthrough into Israel proper, preparations were made for the demolition of the six bridges over the Jordan River. Shortly afterwards, orders were issued to destroy secret documents in the Golan's military camps. At 4:00 a.m., Syrian forces arrived at the Gamla ascent over the Sea of Galilee. No IDF unit stood between them and the Jordan Valley, but requests by Syrian commanders to advance westward were denied by their commanders. They opted instead for an attack northward, toward the IDF's central command post in Nafakh – a move that, if successful, could have led to the collapse of the Israeli defense in the Golan.

By 3:00 a.m., the gravity of the situation in the north began to be clear to the IDF GHQ in Tel Aviv.

The fear of a Syrian breakthrough into Israel prompted Defense Minister Moshe Dayan to go to the central command post in Mount Canaan in order to receive first-hand reports of the state of affairs. Upon his arrival, at about 6:00 a.m., he heard from General Hofi that the situation in the Golan was very grave and that the bridges over the Jordan River had been prepared for demolition. Another senior and experienced officer told him that "the fighting in the Heights' southern sector has ended and we lost. We don't have a force to stop them." A third officer added that there was nothing to stop the Syrians if they were to reach the Jordan Valley. Consequently, Dayan sent him to organize the defense there.

In reality, by the early morning hours the situation had slightly improved since the first reserve forces

had started arriving at the front. But due to the thick fog of war and insufficient information about Syrian intentions, Dayan estimated that only massive air support would enable the IDF to hold its positions in the Golan Heights. Accordingly, he ordered the commander of the IAF, Major General Benny Peled, to allocate all its resources to that front. This order led to the last two mistakes that doomed the ability of the IAF to quickly decide the fate of the war. The Air Force

Unlike the IDF on the southern and northern fronts, the IAF was well-prepared for the war before it started. The IAF had been gradually increasing its state of alert since mid-September and needed only a small-scale mobilization because it functioned mainly on the basis of regular manpower. Given its critical role in the defense of the country, the Chief of Staff authorized mobilization of the manpower required to bring the IAF to a full state of alert about twenty-four hours before the outbreak of the war.

The IAF started the war with 311 fighter and attack planes in operational status out of a total of 391 in

service. They were deployed at five main airfields (Ramat David, Tel Nof, Hazor, Hazerim, and Etzion) and two secondary ones (Bir Gafagafa and Sharm al Sheik in the Sinai). Upon learning at about 4:30 a.m. on6 October that war would start the same day, the Chief of Staff ordered the IAF to prepare for a preemptive strike. However, Operation Dugman, the code name for the air strike against the Syrian antiaircraft layout, which was planned for 10:00to 12:00 a.m., was called off due to bad weather conditions. It was replaced by a planned strike against the Syrian Air Force (code name Negiha or Butt), but Moshe Dayan and Golda Meir vetoed this act for fear of American reaction. Consequently, when shooting commenced, many IAF planes were in the process of changing their ammunition from an attack to a defense mission. Nevertheless, some IAF fighters succeeded in taking off on time and interrupting the Arab aerial attack. By the evening hours, they had shot down 22 Egyptian and Syrian planes and helicopters. In

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addition, the IAF took part in the defensive battle, primarily on the Suez front, though it proved to be quite ineffective since it had to operate in darkness and within the zone defended by Egyptian ground-to-air missiles.

During the night hours, the IAF made final preparations for Operation Tagar – the destruction of the Egyptian antiaircraft layout west of the Suez Canal– which had been carefully prepared since the end of the War of Attrition in the summer of 1970. The operation combined a massive use of ground and airborne means of electronic warfare, with the use of ground artillery for shooting chaff and shelling nearby batteries, in order to support the main effort – an all-out attack by more than 100 Phantom F-4s, flying at low altitude at about 550 knots and simultaneously dropping bombs to destroy the missile sites. The preparations for Operation Tagar took thirty-six hours and were dependent, among other things, on good weather and updated information about the location of the surface-to-air missile (SAM) batteries. The operation was to last six hours and to be carried out in four phases. The first flight – preparation – was aimed at suppressing the antiaircraft guns and isolating the battlefield from enemy planes. The second and main stage was the bombing and the destruction of the missile sites. The aim of the third flight was to destroy the surviving batteries. The last one was to takeout missile reinforcements, which were expected by this stage to start advancing from the rear. Repeated exercises and detailed planning led the IAF commanders to conclude that although the operation might incur significant casualties, its chances of success were high, and it would give the IAF freedom of action over the combat zone. In spring 1973, following the buildup of a Syrian antiaircraft layout on the Golan front, the IAF prepared a similar operation (Dugman) for the destruction of this layout as well.

The main challenge for these operations was the introduction in 1972 of the mobile SA-6 batteries in

Egypt and Syria. Previously, a reconnaissance mission that revealed the location of the fixed SA-2 and SA- 3 batteries had enabled an immediate attack within hours. Now, the localization of the sites prior to attack was of little use, since the SA-6 batteries had the capability to start moving within ten minutes from order and to start firing within twelve minutes after arriving at their destination. In addition, the SA-6 batteries could hit targets flying at 300 feet and above. Until the introduction of these systems, IAF pilots used very low flight as the main tactic for evading missiles. The deployment of theSA-3 in Egypt in the spring of 1970 had already limited their freedom of action significantly. The introduction of the SA-6 limited it further. The challenge posed by the SA-6 batteries was even greater in the north. The Syrian layout was made up of fifteen SA-6 batteries and sixteen fixed SA-2 and SA-3 batteries. The Egyptian layout, west of the canal, was made up of fifty-five batteries, only ten of which were SA-6. For this reason, the IAF planners believed that Operation Tagar had quite a high chance of success.

The first stage of Tagar 4 began on 7 October at 6:45 a.m., when eighty Skyhawk A-4s attacked

antiaircraft gun batteries and other targets. Half an hour later, approximately forty Phantom F-4s attacked seven Egyptian airfields in order to prevent Egyptian fighters from taking off while the main stage of Tagarwas being carried out. The attacks were successful and achieved their operational goals with only minor losses.

At this stage, however, the operation had already been called off. Under the impression that the IAF

was the only means by which the Syrian tanks could be blocked on their way into Israel, Dayan, who failed to get in touch with the Chief of Staff, called General Peled directly at about 6:40 a.m. He described the desperate situation in vivid terms, referring to a threat to “the Third Temple,” and pressed Peled to use all his aircraft to save the situation. The Chief of Staff, who heard about the exchange, was alarmed by Dayan's pessimistic estimate of the situation. Together with the IAF commander he decided, at about 7:00 a.m., to discontinue Operation Tagar and to redirect the main effort of the IAF from the south to the north.

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The decision to stop Tagar was a major mistake – and this is more than just a post factum assessment. A number of senior IAF officers who were present in the IAF war room when it was made regarded it then as such, but none of them objected when Peled called off the second stage of the operation. There were two considerations that favored the continuation of Tagar 4. First5, there was a good chance that it would succeed. Although the conditions under which it was launched were not ideal (for example, artillery support was not available), it still had a high chance of success given the operational preparations that had been made the night before and the fact that most of the Egyptian SA batteries were fixed. The successful completion of the operation's first stage had already indicated that strategy to be a good one.

Second, during the critical hours of the morning of 7 October, the conditions on the Golan front

prevented the IAF from effectively deciding the fate of the battle. The small area of terrain in which the battle took place and the fact that the Israeli planes had to operate within the range of the Syrian antiaircraft layout did not allow a massive use of aircraft. In addition, two squadrons of A-4shad already been participating in the battle since the early morning hours, so there was no need to stop Tagar 4 for this purpose.

At this juncture, the second mistake took place. Since the doctrine of the IAF called for destruction of

the enemy's antiaircraft defense prior to its engagement in ground warfare, Peled ordered the IAF to be prepared to carry out Operation Dugman 5 at 11:30 a.m. – at precisely the same time that he ordered the discontinuation of Tagar. As the IDF’s official history of the war describes the situation:

The preparations and the briefings [for Operation Dugman 5] were done under time pressure, especially

because of a change of plans following the movement of the mobile SAM batteries and antiaircraft batteries on the front. Nevertheless, the IAF started the operation at11:30, but without updated air-photographs and without the planned artillery preparation that the artillery corps could not provide under the conditions of the battle. The loss of the Hermon [Israel's eyes, ears, and a major platform for electronic warfare in the Golan] and the inability to transfer electronic warfare helicopters from the south to the north have made the mission even more difficult.

As could be expected, Operation Dugman 5 was an almost complete failure. Since the IAF had no

updated information concerning the location of the fifteen Syrian SA-6 batteries, it bombed the sites in which they had been located about twenty-four hours earlier. Consequently, only one battery was located and destroyed, and another one was damaged. The rest of the bombs fell on empty sites. The immediate cost of this failure was the shooting down of six F-4s. In the longer run, the failure shattered the IAF's belief in its ability to destroy the SAM layouts in Egypt and Syria.

Was it necessary to improvise the most critical and dangerous IAF operation in the north and to carry

it out in the absence of so many components that were deemed necessary for its success? In retrospect, the answer is negative. The commander of the Northern Command testified that, with the exception of one case, the ground forces did not feel the aerial support even after the main effort of the IAF was diverted from the south to the north. Israel's official history notes that "the effective air support was provided . . . . by the planes that attacked the Syrian armor since dawn . . . . These sorties were stopped when operation 'Dugman' was underway – and this was during the most difficult hours in the fight for Nafakh." Indeed, immediately after Dugman 5 ended, the IAF was called again to divert its forces to the south, thus denying effective air support for the ground forces in the Golan. Nevertheless, the ground forces succeeded in containing any additional Syrian advancement, and by the evening hours, following the failure of a Syrian attempt to occupy the Nafakh camp, the initiative taken by the IDF appeared to be sufficient.

According to the official history of the war, the way in which the IAF was used on 7 October was

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indeed a mistaken one, though specific accusations are avoided: After the war, a widespread opinion was that the enemy succeeded to provide a cover for its ground forces by a dense "umbrella" of missiles and anti-aircraft guns with which the IAF planes were crushed. But the picture will not be a complete one unless it is remembered that the SAM layout did not face an organized attack, since the IAF did not have the chance to act in a concentrated manner against the missiles at the beginning of the war. In the south, the operation was stopped after the preparation stage and the temporary paralysis of the Egyptian airfields. And in the north, the IAF acted under time pressure and under operational conditions that caused its failure. Conclusions

This article posed the question as to what the main source of Israel's military defeats was in the first stage of the Yom Kippur War: strategic surprise or – as many now claim – inherited deficiencies in the IDF's preparation for the war.

Any attempt to answer this question involves a certain amount of counterfactual analysis and should

therefore be phrased in probabilistic rather than definitive terms. In order to answer the question, this article identified six major mistakes that doomed the initial phase of the war. Two took place on the Suez front: the first was the manning of the Bar Lev line by second-rate forces rather than by high quality soldiers, as was planned earlier; and the second was the decision to delay the deployment of Division 252 until the last moment. Two took place in the north: the first was the failure to deploy the available regular forces according to Plan Gir, despite the fact that the IDF had sufficient time to do so; and the second was the decision to allocate the Command's stronger force (Brigade 7) to the defense of the front's northern sector before locating the Syrian main effort. Finally, two mistakes took place in the air: the first was the decision to call off Operation Tagar 4 despite its high chance of success, and the second was the decision to launch Operation Dugman 5 despite its very high chance of failure.

An analysis of the context within which these mistakes were made shows that their main source, and

therefore the source of Israel's military failures at the beginning of the war, was the fact that until eight hours before it broke out, war was not expected, certainly not with such a short warning time. Adding to the high level of strategic surprise was the fact that firing commenced four hours earlier than predicted.

The way in which the IDF's ground forces were deployed on the Suez front when the war started was

primarily the direct outcome of the intelligence failure. All operational plans in the south assumed that even a twenty-four-hour warning would enable the replacement of the reservists in the Bar Lev line forts by high- quality regular infantry soldiers and the deployment of the tanks and the artillery of Division 252 in their pre-prepared positions. The fact that force replacement at the Bar Lev line did not take place was solely the outcome of surprise. The fact that Division 252 was not deployed for war in time was largely attributable to the same cause, as well as to the poor judgment of the Southern Command commander, who, by his own testimony, avoided immediate deployment of his available forces based on the belief that such a move might trigger an unintentional war. Obviously, that belief was the direct outcome of insufficient warning. This scenario is somewhat reminiscent of Joseph Stalin's belief, during the first hours of the German invasion of the U.S.S.R. on 22 June 1941, that the German action did not necessarily mean war and that a prudent Soviet reaction might prevent it. Gonen's decision also reflected his poor level of military professionalism, as he did not act in accordance with the direct orders given to him by the Chief of Staff.

In the Golan, insufficient warning was the only cause for the IDF's failed order of battle on 6 October.

The IDF plan for war called for the deployment of two divisions, with close to 700 tanks and over 250 artillery pieces on this front. The course of the fighting in the Golan during its first hours indicates that even with the minimal available forces, the IDF had a chance to contain the Syrian advancement until the arrival

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of the reserve army, had the order to allocate the larger share of the scarce available forces to the northern sector not been given. The fact that the weaker Brigade 188 had to block the Syrian main effort while the stronger Brigade 7 faced a lesser Syrian pressure is the key event that led to the collapse of the southern sector. The mistaken deployment order that was given less than an hour after the outbreak of the war was not the direct outcome of surprise, but was influenced by the fast pace of unexpected events and the chaotic atmosphere in the unprepared war room. Moreover, it should be remembered that had sufficient forces been available to the Command from the start, there would have been no need to make such a critical decision. In this sense, the second mistake in the Golan reflected, perhaps, a poor level of professional judgment, but was also highly influenced by the element of strategic surprise.

Finally, the two mistaken decisions regarding the use of the IAF were indirectly the outcome of surprise.

Both were made in light of the dire situation that was developing in the southern sector of the Golan front and the fear that, with hardly any ground forces to block them, the Syrian tanks were likely to invade Israel at its pre-1967 borders. This grim situation was, as concluded above, primarily the outcome of insufficient intelligence warning for the impending outbreak of war. Certainly, when Moshe Dayan made his demand to allocate the whole might of the IAF to the north, there were other available alternatives to this decision, and when the IAF commander complied with it, other officers around him regarded it as a mistake. As such, the decision to discontinue Operation Tagar and to initiate Operation Dugman was not the only, and ultimately not the best, approach to the difficult situation. But the fact that both operations failed probably has less to do with fundamental mistakes in the preparations of the IAF for war than with the way it was used to destroy the antiaircraft layouts in Egypt and Syria.

This article has shown that the main cause for Israel's military defeats in the first stage of the 1973 war

was the element of strategic surprise. Nevertheless, it is important to note other sources as well: certain weaknesses in the IDF war planning (overreliance on intelligence warning and ineffective air-ground coordination); force structure (overreliance on aircraft and tanks); and, in some cases, poor quality of staff work and military professionalism. But all these weaknesses were a secondary cause for the military defeats, and in most cases were manifested under pressure, which by itself was the direct outcome of surprise. It is quite probable that if surprise had been averted and sufficient IDF forces had been deployed when the war started, the Egyptian and Syrian offensives would have been repelled from the start, at a rather low cost to the defending forces. Under such circumstances, it is quite possible that no one would have faulted the IDF for any mistakes in its preparation for the war. Above all, it must be emphasized that the final outcome of the war was an Israeli military victory – one that was achieved despite the difficult conditions under which the IDF had to function once the first stage of the war was over. This constitutes the best proof that strategic surprise rather than fundamental weaknesses was the independent variable that doomed the outcome of the war in its initial stage. Improper preparations for war served, and only in some respects, as an intervening variable that facilitated this outcome.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity L421: Reading C

An Autocracy at War Author: Risa Brooks

In the June 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Egypt shocked the world with its atrocious performance

in battle, only to stun the world again with its remarkable military turnaround in the October 1973 war. Existing studies, which emphasize culture, social structure, and regime type, have a difficult time explaining why this single autocratic state, in such a short period of time, exhibited such extremes in its military competence. None can explain both why Egypt performed so poorly in 1967 and improved so significantly in 1973. Other explanations such as military strategy and learning explain the puzzle in part, but they alone cannot account for the outcome. This article presents a theory that accounts for the divergence in effectiveness, focusing on underlying differences in the fabric of the autocratic regime. It argues that changes in the balance of civil- military power in the state—born from more fundamental differences in domestic politics in the autocracy—shaped three areas of military activity critical to military effectiveness: strategic assessment, command, and control, and leadership. In developing this argument, the article both contributes to growing scholarship on the sources of states’ military effectiveness and explains why Egypt’s performance varied so significantly in these historically consequential wars.

In June 1967 Egypt shocked the world with its abysmal performance in battle against Israel. On 5 June, after three weeks of simmering crisis, the Israelis destroyed nearly every plane of the Egyptian air force on the ground. In the ensuing war, substantial numbers of Egyptian commanders proved in- competent on the battlefield, brittle command structures crumbled under the pressure of war, forces proved poorly trained, and operational plans were convoluted and confused. Despite its significant numerical strengths in personnel and equipment, Egypt gave a disastrous performance on the battlefield.

Even more stunning, however, was that six years later Egypt would plan and execute one of the most

remarkable campaigns in military history: Egyptian forces crossed the Suez Canal and overwhelmed Israel’s fortifications on the east bank at the start of the 1973 October war. In the war that followed Egypt demonstrated considerable improvements in military activity—in areas such as leadership, training, strategic assessment, and operational planning. As a result, the Egyptian military proved a capable enemy that imposed significant costs in war far beyond what Israel, its adversary, ever anticipated was possible. As one Israeli general lamented as he battled Arab forces in 1973, “It’s not the Egyptian Army of 1967.” And as General Ariel Sharon put it, “I have been fighting [Arab forces] for 25 years, and all the rest were just battles. This was a real war.

In short, in just a few short years Egypt gave two notable performances on the battlefield: one is

commonly cited as among the worst examples of military failure, and one is cited as among the most dramatic military turnarounds in recent memory. What explains these differences in Egypt’s military effectiveness? Why did Egypt perform so miserably in 1967? How did it then achieve such remarkable improvement in 1973?

Existing scholarship has a difficult time accounting for this puzzle. Egypt experienced no major change

in culture or social structure during this time period—factors scholars highlight in explaining why states vary in their military effectiveness. Nor did Egypt experience a change in regime type— from autocracy to

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democracy—which scholars also suggest might explain improvements in battlefield effectiveness. None of this scholarship can explain why a single authoritarian state, such as Egypt, exhibited such significant variation in its capacity to create military power in such a short period of time

Egypt’s threat environment also cannot explain its successes and failures. Realists might argue, for

example, that Egypt faced no significant threat in the 1960s and therefore had little reason to focus its energies on ensuring its military competence prior to the 1967 war. Whatever Egypt’s pre-war weaknesses, however, realist logic also suggests military activity should have improved at least during the three week crisis that preceded the June war. My analysis below, however, shows that despite the very real threat of war, international incentives did not alleviate, and instead exacerbated, the weaknesses of Egyptian military activity.

In the early 1970s, the Israeli “threat” did unify Egypt’s political and military leaders in their desire to

regain territory lost in 1967, as realist logic might predict. Despite this basic agreement, however, political and military leaders disagreed fiercely about the best strategy to accomplish the goal. International factors do not explain how Anwar Sadat was able to overcome his senior officers’ resistance and revamp his military to execute his war plan in 1973—especially when, as I detail below, his powerful predecessor, Gamal Abdel Nasser, had been unable to overrule and reform his military in 1967. In sum, international pressures can help explain the incentive to field an effective military, but they alone cannot account for why Egypt was so incapable of doing so in 1967 and so much better prepared in 1973.

Two other factors partially account for the outcome, but alone also can-not explain it. The first is

Egypt’s military strategy in the two wars. Most importantly, in 1973 Egypt was able to launch a first strike and take the Israelis by surprise. This conferred important advantages as it does to states that succeed in surprising their adversaries—they can carefully script their operations and catch their adversaries unprepared. The surprise attack thus made it easier for Egypt to take maximum advantage of improvements in military activity during its crossing operation. But the very fact that Egypt was able to formulate and execute a surprise attack is significant: the sophistication of the strategy begs the question of how Egypt was able to execute it in the first place. As it was, the Egyptian military developed an elaborate deception plan, rigorously controlled information in the chain of command, and maintained operational security, all of which required substantial improvement in the military’s organizational competency. Without that improvement, Sadat could have wanted a surprise offensive, but Egypt could have easily failed in implementing the strategy.

Alternatively, Egypt was the victim of a preemptive strike in 1967: it deliberately chose to absorb a

first strike by Israel before launching a counterattack. Egypt therefore lacked the advantages of being on the operational offensive. This certainly did not help Egypt’s military effort, but it is unclear that Egypt could have fared much better had it chosen to attack first. As I detail below, poor strategic assessment, command and control, and leadership rendered the Egyptian military woefully unprepared for any type of war by early June 1967. Given the appalling state of the Egyptian military, it is difficult to imagine Egypt would have fought much better even had it attacked Israel’s forces first.

Second, Egypt benefited from lessons of prior wars about the strengths of Israel’s forces and its own

weaknesses. These lessons help explain improvements in Egypt’s military activity in the October war. But they also raise the question of why Egypt was able to learn in 1973 and not in earlier wars. After all, Egypt had exhibited significant failings in the 1956 Suez conflict, yet these had been virtually ignored prior to the 1967 war. Analyses of the 1956 imbroglio, in fact, were only released after the 1967 war when they, along with the record from the latter, were carefully studied and used to plan the 1973 offensive. Learning was therefore key, but a necessary pre-condition was the establishment of a command willing and able to learn

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from the past. To understand how Egypt was able to learn and implement its ambitious strategy in 1973—and why it

was so poorly prepared for war in 1967—one needs to look to the country’s civil-military relations. In both 1967 and 1973, Egypt’s military performances were heavily shaped by the domestic politics of the authoritarian regime and how those affected the civil-military balance of power within the state. In the 1960s, political and military leaders were sharing power in the regime. Both had civilian allies within society, and the military leadership was unified. As a result, both could compete for control of military affairs. Competition over policymaking prerogatives, in turn, affected military activities essential to Egypt’s performance in 1967—strategic assessment, senior appointments and leadership, and strategic command and control. Problems in these areas filtered throughout the military organization, damaging Egypt’s effectiveness in 1967.

In the late 1960s, changes in the military’s position in Egyptian society, in the officer corps’ internal

unity, and in the social bases of the political regime altered the civil-military balance of power. As a result, Anwar Sadat, when he came to power, enjoyed remarkable latitude for action in relations with his military, which transformed strategic assessment and decision-making, command and control, and the quality of the senior military leadership. These changes are critical to explaining the improvements in Egypt’s capability in1973.

In short, this article helps illuminate the sources of Egypt’s military (in) effectiveness in these two vital

wars. More broadly, it offers a general argument about one source of potential variation in autocracies’ military effectiveness, pointing to differences in the domestic politics and civil-military relations of these regimes. As the Egyptian cases above suggest, states in which both political and military leaders are sharing power and competing for control of military policy-making are likely to be especially poorly prepared for war. In contrast, where a political leader is dominant, these competitive pressures are mitigated; militaries should have an easier time in critical areas of military activity and should be able to realize more of their war-fighting potential.

Conceptually, the article contributes to efforts to identify the pathological tendencies of different

authoritarian regimes, focusing in particular on their war-making abilities. For the most part, analysts in international relations tend to treat authoritarian states as a uniform group in contrast with democracies. This article, however, suggests that lumping autocracies can be an analytical mistake. As scholars of comparative politics have long under- stood, these states vary internally in significant patterns. The article illustrates, for example, how even apparently subtle distinctions in an autocratic state’s domestic politics can have an enormous impact on the state’s civil-military relations and military effectiveness.

Beyond its conceptual value, explaining the Egyptian puzzle also has significant practical utility. Egypt

may be unique in many ways, but there is good reason to expect that the civil-military dynamics observed here could manifest in states with a similar autocratic flavor—those in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and historical Latin America where military organizations are often influential political constituencies. Such states have the potential to experience shifts in their internal politics of the kind I describe here that lead to political-military competition over security policy-making, with devastating effects on the state’s efficacy in international conflicts. By exploring the domestic politics and civil-military relations of autocratic states, this article offers tools to scholars and analysts in assessing these states’ military effectiveness.

Finally, the Egyptian cases are important for historical reasons. The 1967and 1973 wars are arguably

two of the most important conflicts of the twentieth century. In the first case, Egypt’s early military failings contributed to the rapid escalation of the war in the region. The war ended with Israel occupying critical

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areas of Egypt, Syria, and Palestine. Today, control of the land Israel captured in 1967 is a key source of contention between Israelis and Palestinians and a catalyst for tensions in the Arab world. In contrast, Egypt’s successes in the 1973 war paved the way for renewed negotiations between Egypt and Israel and, ultimately, the 1979 peace treaty. That treaty was the first and only peace treaty between the Jewish state and an Arab neighbor until 1994. In both wars, Egypt’s losses and successes and the chain of events they unleashed had an enormous impact on the region and the world. DOMESTIC POLITICS AND THE POLITICAL-MILITARY BALANCEOF POWER

Analysts have long observed that autocracies vary in their civil-military relations. Less clear is how those differences translate into states’ capacities to create military power. I argue that one dimension of civil-military relations— the balance of power—is especially important to understanding differences in autocracies’ military effectiveness. The configuration of power at the apex of decision-making affects activities essential to organizing and preparing for war, which then affects the ability to generate power on the battlefield. In the following section, I begin developing this argument by explaining why the balance of civil-military power varies. Here, I draw heavily on research in comparative politics, which often emphasizes the social context of civil-military relations.

In my argument, the balance of power depends first on the military’s influence in society at large and

ties to civilian society. When, for example, military organizations form alliances with key classes or social groups, they often gain in influence within the state. Thus, in his seminal study, Guillermo O’Donnell highlights the importance of the armed forces’ ties to the middle class as a key source of influence for Latin American militaries. Similarly, scholars of Wilhelmine Germany often point to ties between the historical Prussian army and the agricultural class to explain the influence of the former in the state. Even absent alliances with structurally important groups, however, militaries gain influence as a result of their popularity within mass society. All things equal, a military leader representing a highly-popular or socially-connected institution should be able to exert more pressure over political leaders than one lacking those connections. Conversely, when the population disdains the military establishment and when ties to pivotal social constituencies are missing, such that the military lacks a foothold in mass society and civilian allies, military leaders should have less sway

A second factor that affects the balance of power is the internal unity of the senior military leadership

and officer corps. Studies of Latin American militaries, for example, commonly focus on the importance of factions within the military leadership. Factions also figure prominently within the literature on the coup d'état, where the success of a coup depends on the unity of the officer corps. Here, I am interested in the degree to which there is evidence within the top echelons of the officer corps of a cohesive group (for example, a dominant faction) or whether there are multiple groups competing with one another. A united military leadership will be able to pose a more credible threat to a leader’s position than one that is divided; a political leader will have an easier time playing divide and conquer when the senior military leadership is divided. Hence, the balance of power also depends on the unity of the officer corps. An internally competitive or factionalized leadership has less sway over political leaders. Military leaders are more powerful unified, than divided

Finally, the political leader’s ties to domestic society affect the balance of power. Just like their

democratic counterparts, political leaders in autocracies rely on social support to secure their rule. As Waterbury puts it, “All systems of rule have coalitional underpinnings, and they typically contain constituents that spread across formal state agencies and dependencies into civil society . . .” In an autocracy, those constituencies often include some mix of the following: prominent economic classes (subsistence farmers and urban workers, large landholders and private capital), clerics and religious groups,

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ethnic groups, religious interests, party apparatuses, and elements of the state bureaucracy (including the security services), public sector and civil service, as well as the conventional armed forces.

Political leaders derive power in relations with their military leaders from their positions in society and their abilities to secure support from these salient groups. The logic here is that a leader’s influence with any one group in his coalition (such as the military) is strengthened by the degree of support he draws from others. At the extreme, when a leader has consolidated support among multiple constituencies, the leader can float on top of all them. He can balance one against the others in the equivalent of domestic balance- of-power politics. Thus, even where the military is a powerful constituency in society-at-large, the social support a leader can draw upon secures his position: it allows him to minimize the degree to which he relies on military support for his position and therefore enhances his bargaining power with its leaders. Alternatively, the absence of social support or fractures within the civilian base can enhance the military’s relative position.

Together these three factors—the military’s social position, political leaders’ social position and

military leaders’ unity—interact to affect the balance of power between a political leader and the chiefs of the military establishment. The broader a leader’s social base becomes, the more the military’s base attenuates; the more internally competitive the military leadership is, the more leverage a political leader should enjoy in relations with his military leaders at the apex of decision-making. In sum, one has to look at the entire coalition—the military’s role as well as the civilian role—to determine the military's influence.

While the balance of political-military power is continuous in principle, I distinguish two ideal typical

cases. I focus on these because I expect they will be especially important in assessing differences in organizational activity and military effectiveness within autocratic states.

The first is a case in which the domestic situation favors the political leader. Here, the political leader

rules with an expansive social base, which incorporates an array of constituencies and faces a military leadership that lacks independent social allies and is internally divided. I call this “political dominance.” Political leaders exercise significant authority, retain decision- making prerogatives and can structure the military to protect their access to information. This, as I explain below, facilitates important improvements in military activity and increased effectiveness in war.

In the second case, both political and military leaders are influential in the domestic political arena.

Power is divided between political military leaders when the political leader retains a solid civilian base, but the military also has social allies and influence and its leadership is unified. I term this “shared power.” In this case, political and military leaders compete over the ability to direct military activity. This internal regime rivalry, in turn, undermines military activity and the processes whereby states organize and prepare for war. IMPLICATIONS FOR MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS

The civil-military balance of power affects three areas of military activity essential to states’ military effectiveness. Note that by military effectiveness I am referring to the attributes of a military organization— as reflected in its internal military activities—that allow it to take its material and human strengths and translate them into power on the battlefield. As such, a state’s military effectiveness affects its probability of battlefield success but does not solely determine it; it is one factor among several that affects outcomes in war. Thus, even a very effective military may lose a war if it faces a more effective adversary or one that is simply wealthier in resources. Effectiveness, in the present usage, describes a state’s intrinsic capacity to realize its military potential. It tells us when a state is going to live up to the promise implied by its material

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capabilities or when it is apt to be a weak adversary on the battlefield. The first military activity that the civil-military balance of power affects is the state’s process of

strategic assessment. This is the means through which state leaders evaluate their positions in an interstate conflict and (ideally) develop a political and military strategy with which to respond. Within these processes, leaders evaluate how to organize and use their military forces in the event of an armed conflict. Military strategy and the broad outlines of a state's operational or campaign plan are developed.

Within the assessment process, the manner of exchanging information in the political-military

consultation phase and the rigor of the evaluation process are key. Strategic assessment may or may not occur within formalized structures (that is, national security councils). While such entities are more common in the modern area, historically, strategic assessment has often occurred in less formalized forums—in the king’s chambers or dictator’s offices. Regardless, what matters are the conventions and routines observed within these entities. As one analyst notes, the quality of strategic assessment depends on problem identification, the assessment of alternatives, and the degree to which information and assumptions are tested. The allocation of decision-making prerogatives within advisory entities is also critical. Rights of final approval and veto must be clearly articulated. In the absence of a clear structure of authority, it is difficult to make firm commitments to a particular strategy and to ensure that military bureaucracies implement it.

A second area of military activity that the civil-military balance of power affects is strategic command

and control. The structure of command determines how rights and responsibilities are allocated within the military hierarchy—whose approval is required for what action and who is accountable for those decisions. The clarity and fluidity of command and control affect a military organization’s ability to act in a coordinated way, to respond to developments in wartime, and to modify activity accordingly. They affect a military’s ability to operate in a coherent and responsive fashion.

A third critical area that internal civil-military politics can affect is the criteria for officer appointments

and promotions. Conventions for advancement shape the internal norms of a military organization, affecting its adherence to meritocratic standards and influencing the quality of leadership throughout the entity. Appointment and promotions may seem mundane, but in reality they are one of the most important mechanisms for change within a military organization. Who is chosen for what position affects everything from the discipline and skill applied to peacetime planning to the quality of command in the heat of battle. These processes are essential to a military’s organizational competence and ultimately to its ability to generate power on the battlefield. Shared Power vs. Political Dominance and Military Activities

These three military activities are compromised when political and military leaders share power and compete for control of military affairs. Strategic assessment, for example, is likely to be very poor. Fiercely protective of their access to information, military leaders will share selectively their private information with the political leader, compromising strategic assessment; the political leader has little recourse to monitor the military or require its leaders to be more forthcoming. Political and military leaders also will be wary of coordinating and engaging one another and may resist forums they perceive as stacked with allies—other military officials or diplomats—of the other. Military leaders are also likely to resist political leaders’ efforts to assert control of the decision-making process as well as their efforts to veto and approve policy. In total, competitive pressures in these civil-military settings undermine the sharing of information and the coordination of leaders as military strategy is formulated and operational issues in war-planning are addressed.

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Shared power also fosters convolutions in the chain of command, as political and military leaders both try to project their authority into the military hierarchy. Each has strong incentives to ensure that checks and balances are inserted into the chain of command to allow oversight of military activity. Political and military leaders will consequently compete over the allocation of responsibilities in the chain of command. Each will try and structure authority to enhance his own or his allied officers’ control of military activity. This creates convoluted structures that undermine the integrity of command and control in peacetime and war.

Finally, shared power magnifies incentives of both political and military leaders to elevate partisanship

relative to merit-based standards in promoting officers to pivotal posts; this potentially compromises the quality of leadership in the military organization. When military chiefs are competing for control of the military, an individual’s political reliability is likely to become increasingly important in choosing officers to fill key posts. Political leaders, too, must pay attention to the political leanings of those they support for advancement. When military or political leaders prevail in the selection process, the victor will likely insert allies whose loyalty is unquestioned. When they must settle on compromise candidates, military and political leaders are likely to choose lackluster candidates who are not threats to either. In effect, this means selection criteria are biased against talent and skill, which should compromise the quality of leadership observed within the military organization.

In contrast, when a political leader is firmly in control, these competitive pressures on military activity

are mitigated. Strategic assessment should improve. A political leader retains the authority to impose monitoring mechanisms on his leaders. Agency problems will persist, as it is impossible to induce full compliance on the part of military authorities, but the most egregious violations of political directives will be absent. The military can no longer defy requests for information or participation in coordinating entities. This allows for joint coordination and the exchange of information.

When a political leader is firmly in charge, he also has greater control over how responsibilities are

allocated in the chain of command. Although a leader may create safeguards that allow him to monitor the military hierarchy himself, he is not also pressured to accommodate checks and balances in the chain of command to protect his military leader’s demands. These dynamics do not necessarily eliminate all organizational weaknesses in autocratic militaries, but they eliminate dynamics that can create convolutions and ambiguities and, therefore, exacerbate weaknesses in command and control.

Finally, a political leader’s solid standing in civilian society lessens incentives to elevate partisanship

over considerations of skill. It is unlikely he will ignore political factors altogether in senior appointments. He can, however, better afford to incorporate other considerations into his calculus, in part because his position is secure domestically and in part because he retains other mechanisms of monitoring and control to safeguard against military opposition. In addition, the destructive effects of open disputes and competition over appointments and promotions are absent here. This means that when a leader is inclined to emphasize skill and merit (perhaps for international reasons), he can promote officers with those qualities. Consequently, the quality of leadership should improve. As a result, these militaries should have an easier time in critical areas of military activity and should be able to realize more of their war-fighting potential.

I am not suggesting that just because a political leader is secure politically and dominates his military,

strategic assessment will be fully rationalized. Nor do I suggest that the leader will appoint only skilled and talented officers. In fact, much of the scholarship on military effectiveness in authoritarian regimes suggests that even when political leaders are in control, there should be some politicization of military activity. Political leaders often have incentives to ensure political loyalty in sensitive appointments to protect

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themselves from challengers to their positions. They impose their own checks and safeguards in the chain of command in order to monitor the armed forces’ activities. These oversight methods often hinder military effectiveness

These problems notwithstanding, I expect that competition, of the kind I describe above, should put

even more pressure on intra-military organizational processes. A political leader may impede the efficiency of command and control with his efforts to monitor the military, but when military leaders are trying to obstruct those efforts and impose their own checks and safeguards, the structure becomes even more convoluted. If loyalty is important in general in appointments, it becomes even more paramount when a leader is facing a challenge from his military chiefs for the allegiance of the officer corps.

Moreover, even if a dominant political leader’s management techniques undercut organizational

efficiency, he retains the power to promote reform when necessary. Leaders may elevate considerations of skill over purely partisan concerns, as suggested by Saddam Hussein’s leadership changes in the final phases of the Iran-Iraq War. Fearing more devastating losses in the war, Saddam replaced key commanders with more capable officers. Many attribute the significant improvement in Iraq’s effectiveness during the war’s final phases to these leadership changes. In contrast, a political leader facing opposition from his military leaders may seek to rationalize military activity— like Nasser in the mid-1960s—but he will lack the power to intervene and do so.

In short, the absence of competition removes a critical structural constraint on improvements in military

activity. States with divided control over military policy should be especially challenged in organizing themselves for war. EXPLAINING EGYPTIAN MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS, 1967 AND 1973

Below, I apply this general argument to Egypt’s experiences in the 1967 and 1973 Arab-Israeli wars. I begin with an overview of those wars, then discuss civil-military relations in each time period and analyze their effects on military activity and military effectiveness. The International Context of the Egypt Cases

From May to June 1967, Egypt’s President Nasser initiated a crisis with Israel that would end in a devastating war three weeks later. The crisis began soon after the Soviets passed to Egypt what later proved to be a false report that Israel was deploying forces on the Syrian border. Regional tensions were high at the time and Egypt, under pressure from its allies and competitors in the Arab world, decided to deploy forces to the Sinai Peninsula ostensibly to deter future Israeli attacks against Syria. This was followed by a request for a redeployment or withdrawal of United Nations peacekeepers then stationed in the Sinai (they had been there since the Suez crisis) in order to make way for Egypt’s forces. Shortly thereafter, in an important escalation of the crisis, Nasser called for the closure of the Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping. In response, Israel shuffled its cabinet and on 1 June appointed the hawkish Moshe Dayan minister of war. Recognizing the growing signs that war was imminent, Nasser warned his military chiefs on 2 June that Israel would attack in forty-eight to seventy-two hours. On 5 June the Israelis attacked, destroying nearly all of Egypt’s air force on the ground. The war ended just a day and half later after Egypt’s military chief issued an order to withdraw from the Sinai Peninsula; this precipitated a chaotic and deadly exodus of Egyptian forces. At the end of the war, Israel was in control of the Sinai Peninsula from Gaza to the east bank of the Suez Canal.

When Sadat came to power after Nasser’s death in September 1970, he sought to negotiate the return

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of the Sinai Peninsula (in addition, initially, to other occupied territories). However, his early attempts at promoting a peaceful settlement failed. Israel had little incentive to give away territory that it won relatively easily in 1967. Ultimately, Sadat resolved that military action was necessary to alter the political calculations of the Israelis. Egypt then adopted a plan to recapture ten to fifteen kilometers strip of land adjacent to the east bank of the Suez Canal. The objective of the limited war operation—Operation Spark, as Sadat termed it—was to alter Israel’s and the superpowers’ calculations about the costs and risks of the unresolved territorial dispute and ultimately deliver the Sinai back to Egypt’s hands through a reinvigorated negotiation process.

In a surprise attack in October 1973, Egypt launched a crossing operation in which Egypt successfully

overwhelmed Israel’s defensive fortifications, the Bar Lev line, expelled the Israelis, and established a fortified presence along the length of the east bank of the canal. Ten days later Israel recovered and managed to breach Egypt’s defensive line. By the end of the war, after the superpowers intervened to enforce a cease- fire resolution, Israel had encircled Egypt’s Third Army on the east bank of the canal. Most analysts attribute ultimate victory to Israel. Regardless, most observers—and not least the Israelis—were stunned by the dramatic improvement in Egypt’s military effectiveness.

Below, I show how Egypt’s domestic politics can help account for differences in military effectiveness

in the mid-1960s and early 1970s. In the mid-1960s, Egypt’s President Nasser ruled with a broad-based civilian coalition and faced an influential and unified military leadership. As Nasser and his military chief, Abdel Hakim Amer, increasingly clashed, they both began to compete for control of military affairs. This undermined key military activities and helps explain some of the most consequential and extreme weaknesses in Egypt’s effectiveness observed in 1967. In contrast, power relations in the early 1970s had changed considerably, as a result of prior domestic changes in the state. Anwar Sadat was firmly in control. This alleviated the effects, observed in the mid-1960s, of competition on appointments and leadership, strategic assessment, and command and control and facilitated the significant improvements in Egypt’s military effectiveness in 1973.

Civil-Military Relations in the 1960s

Publicly, in the late 1950s and 1960s, Gamal Abdel Nasser was a formidable figure in the Arab world

and a major voice in regional affairs. A powerful and charismatic leader, he sought to export his brand of Arab-socialism and enhance his influence abroad. At home, he also sought civilian support for his regime. Beginning in 1954, as president of Egypt, Nasser’s regime cultivated support among a diffuse coalition of workers, rural landholders, professional classes, and within the right and left of the Egyptian elite. A snapshot of the initiatives Nasser pursued reveals this coalitional pattern. His regime, for example, promoted land reform, established price controls for essential foodstuffs and rent on property, subsidized transportation, established minimum wage laws, and instituted labor welfare legislation. In addition to these efforts, Nasser passed laws guaranteeing jobs to all university graduates, so that by the mid-1960s, the regime was employing 60 percent of university graduates, including nearly 100 percent of the country's engineers and scientists. In this way, Nasser used the bureaucracy to wed the professional classes to the regime.

In public, both at home and abroad, Nasser seemed secure and powerful. Behind the scenes, however,

he was facing a growing challenge from the leader of a powerful clique in the military, Abdel Hakim Amer. The military leadership (as well as the officer corps as a whole) was increasingly unified during this period. Amer secured his officers’ loyalties by providing them with special prerogatives and privileges. They were given lavish social clubs, good salaries, and ready access to consumer goods. In general, “great care [was] taken to shield [officers] from difficult or abrasive aspects of daily living.” They led “a life considerably

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more luxurious than that of their civilian colleagues.” Within the officer corps itself, Amer maintained a close coterie of loyalists. Many of these were war college classmates of the top administrator of his patronage network, Shams Badran

At the same time, Amer sought to expand the military’s influence in the civilian arena. A sample of the

titles Amer carried by 1967 indicates his growing presence in the civilian arena: first vice president of the regime, deputy commander of the armed forces, president of the Higher Economic Committee, president of the High Dam, chairman of the Committee for the Liquidation of Feudalism, executive within the soccer federation and the fishing and transportation industries. These responsibilities allowed him to shape the composition and activities of key organizations, to sideline potential opponents, and to reward loyal forces. Although these organizations were not exclusively under the military’s influence, Amer used his position increasingly to promote his and his cohort of allies’ substantial influence within Egyptian society.

In response to Amer’s growing influence, during the 1960s, Nasser sought to build alternative power

bases to counter the military. Among these was the Arab Socialist Union (ASU), established in 1962, which brought together representatives from the regime’s key bases of political support. Although far from a representative party apparatus, the ASU mobilized and penetrated untapped civilian constituencies, including subsistence farmers and workers. As such, the ASU represented the regimes determination to mobilize constituencies that had always been on the margins of political life and that could be expected to support the regime.

Within the ASU, Nasser also created a vanguard organization, which included a secret network of

personally controlled supporters. Among the initiatives undertaken by the ASU was the establishment of the Youth Organization, which existed “as a mobilization weapon to counter the military’s strength.” Interestingly enough, one of the Youth Organization’s activities was Coup Theater— role-playing how to react in the event of a military coup. As testament to the efficacy of the ASU as a counterweight to the army, Amer began to grow suspicious of the organization by 1965, viewing it as a challenge to his authority.

In sum, while Nasser relied on the military for support, he also had a substantial civilian base of support,

composed of both groups from within civilian society and the Egyptian elite. This social support was important, but the civil-military balance of power also depended on the cohesion of the military leadership and its ties to society. For his part, Amer had the loyalty and support of his sizable base within the military and was increasingly cultivating key civilian constituencies as well. As one observer summarized the situation, “Amer had the army, but Nasser had the people.” In short, by the mid-1960s, a chasm divided the twin political and military pillars of the regime. Neither was able to clearly dominate the other. As one observer remarked, “It is clear in retrospect that even Nasser, whose authority people thought was absolute, was . . . in fact sharing power with Amer, and neither was in total control.” This competition, in turn, had a profound and adverse effect on Egyptian military activity in the three-week crisis and ensuing war against Israel in May and June 1967.

Military Activities

The competition between Amer and Nasser took an especially significant toll on strategic assessment during the May–June crisis. The process for evaluating Egypt’s strategic situation and possible military options suffered considerably, even while political developments unfolded rapidly. To start, the quality of information sharing between the leaders was poor. Amer carefully guarded his private information about military matters. Suspicious of Nasser, Amer also treated information supplied by the president from the latter’s own sources with disregard. Amer also purposely altered information he supplied to Nasser, such as the willingness of the Soviets to support Egypt in a potential war. In addition, joint political-military

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consultation and analysis was far from systematic. As one prominent observer described their interaction in the May-June crisis, “Both Nasser and Amer seemed to be influenced by the remarks of the last person they talked to. There seems to be no organization or functioning command structure which can come up with an objective assessment; everything appears to be politicized and unsystematic.

These problems in strategic assessment are vividly illustrated in the critical meeting of 2 June, three

days prior to Israel’s 5 June attack on Egypt’s airfields. As noted above, at that meeting, Nasser warned Amer and the air force commander that he anticipated that a preemptive strike against the air force would take place within the next seventy-two hours. He recommended that protective measures be taken. Amer, however, was skeptical of Nasser’s information. His own private intelligence sources had been playing down the imminence of an Israeli attack. However, rather than sit down and analyze the possible significance of this contradictory information, as a rigorous process of strategic assessment would entail, Amer simply dismissed Nasser’s information as incorrect, and consultation broke down. Consequently, the air force chief, Mohammed Sidqi, “did not direct any precautionary measures in either aircraft dispersals or routine flying operations.” The planes might have been dispersed to airfields out of range of Israeli aircraft or at least distant from Israeli air bases. Instead, they were in advanced airfields aligned wing-to- wing on their tarmacs only five minutes flying time from Israel

Competition also manifested in the political and military leaders’ efforts to project authority into the

chain of command. This, in turn, introduced divisions and convolutions in the peacetime and wartime command and control structure. Two examples illustrate these dynamics—the creation of the Ground Forces Command (GFC) and Advance Command. In 1964 Nasser pressured Amer into appointing General Mohammed Fawzi to the position of chief of the general staff. In theory, the appointment was important because the chief of staff was responsible for training and the peacetime integration of the service branches. The problem from Amer’s perspective, however, was that he believed Fawzi was an ally of Nasser. By having Fawzi appointed, Nasser was, in effect, trying to project his influence into intra-military decision making

Amer acquiesced in Fawzi’s appointment. However, he subsequently altered the command structure to

ensure that Fawzi had little actual influence in the chain of command. Thus in 1964, Amer formed the Ground Forces Command to act as a coordinating body for all ground forces in the army, navy, and air force. Its broad mission made it the largest command in the military. It also competed directly with the general staff. Over time, the size of the GFC’s staff steadily increased, first equaling and then surpassing Fawzi’s. Most importantly, the GFC divided responsibility for essential peacetime planning activities, which needed to be coordinated, between two competing staffs.

Improvisations in command and control in the weeks prior to the June war exacerbated these peace-

time convolutions. In the event of war, standing plans called for the establishment of a Field Army Command to direct operations for all forces located in the Sinai theater, which would report to General Headquarters (GHQ) and Abdel Hakim Amer. To ensure fluid command, prior to the onset of hostilities, GHQ was to be moved from Cairo to the Sinai to be closer to the field of operations.

Three weeks before the June war, Amer modified this arrangement, creating a new link in the chain of

command, the Advance Command, which would (apparently) serve as Amer’s outpost in the Sinai. General Headquarters was not to be moved but would remain in Cairo. Again, there were political reasons behind this decision: if Amer remained in Cairo, he was better positioned to “watch” Nasser. The problem was that Field Command, as well as the actual staff of the Advance Command, had little sense of how this new link in the chain of command was supposed to operate, what role it was to play in issuing and approving orders, and what relationship it would have with GHQ.

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In addition to these problems in strategic assessment and command and control, competition at the top contributed to the politicization of appointments and promotions. The two leaders were competing for rights to control appointments. In 1961, for example, Nasser established a presidential council to take control of military appointments and promotions from Amer and remove him from top operational command. Nasser later backed off the initiative, however, when officers started mobilizing in support of Amer, and thereafter Amer maintained day-to-day appointment prerogatives. Nevertheless, Nasser still sought to put his allies in key positions, competing with Amer over the right to do so, as when Nasser pushed for Fawzi’s appointment to chief of staff in 1964.

Amer too was careful to protect his allies, often at the expense of promoting capable men to key posts.

For example, in 1967 the service chiefs were the same men who had proven incompetent eleven years earlier in the Suez crisis. In the weeks preceding the June war, shifts of command were undertaken so that Amer’s allies could claim some part of the glory of battle. (Appropriately, they would later receive credit for the ignominious defeat.) As a result, many unqualified leaders populated critical commands. So egregious was the promotion of political lackeys that the Israelis singled out incompetents in their assessments of Egyptian division and brigade commanders Implications for Military Effectiveness

All of these problems contributed to weaknesses in Egypt’s military planning and preparation to fight the Israelis in June 1967. Flaws in strategic assessment, in particular, significantly compromised the integration of political, strategic, and operational plans and objectives. Basic questions of political and military strategy went unresolved in the crisis. Forces flowed into the Sinai—an incredible show of force by any standard. But there was never any clear idea of what role they were to play, let alone how they would serve political objectives. Was Egypt’s military to act in a purely defensive role, to counter a potential Israeli invasion across the border in Sinai? Was its aim to deter an Israeli attack? Or was its strategy ultimately to launch either a limited or comprehensive offensive to win new gains from the Israelis?

Similar problems plagued efforts to develop and implement operational plans. Nasser and Amer clashed

over the merits of maintaining a purely defensive operational position or engaging in a limited offensive against the Israelis. Amer favored a limited offensive. Nasser, wary of being perceived internationally as the aggressor in the crisis, resisted such a move. Unresolved disagreements like these resulted in a series of orders and counter-orders to commanders on the ground

In fact, at one point during the May–June crisis prior to the war, so confused was the Eastern Military

District’s Field Command about Egypt’s operational plans that its chief, General Mohsen, sent a messenger to Amer’s newly improvised Advance Command in the Sinai to seek clarification. Was the field army’s role offensive (as its deployments then suggested) or defensive (as suggested by Egypt’s extant operational plan—the Kaher Plan)? Unable to get an answer, the envoy went to General Headquarters in Cairo to consult with the chief of the general staff of Egyptian forces, General Fawzi. He also could offer no clarification. Dupuy explains, “The armed forces chief of staff [Fawzi], not in the confidence of Field Marshal Amer, could not answer any of the specific questions, nor could he give any clarification or guidance as requested by the field army commander.

As a result of the poor assessment at the civil-military apex, from mid-May 1967, when Egypt’s forces

were first deployed to the Sinai, through 6 June, when the evacuation order was issued, a definitive set of strategic and operational objectives was never disseminated to commanders on the ground. On the eve of war, “absolutely no specific plans had been promulgated to the brigade level or below.” Interviews of Egyptian POWs after the war revealed that “many Egyptian officers and men said they had been sent to

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Sinai with no clear idea of where they were going or what they were supposed to do. Nowhere, however, are the disastrous effects of the breakdown of command more apparent than in

Amer’s ill-fated decision to call for a general withdrawal of Egyptian ground forces from the Sinai, only one day after the start of the war. If it had been governed by a systematic plan, a tactical retreat could have been used to Egypt’s advantage, allowing its forces to regroup at the mountain passes in the Sinai. In fact, the Operations Staff had come up with a detailed plan for just such an orderly fallback. But Amer had blacked out his staff, many of whom he believed were closely allied with Nasser. The evidence suggests that not even Nasser was consulted over Amer’s withdrawal order. In the end, Amer’s panicked order for immediate withdrawal sacrificed men and equipment as Egyptian forces undertook a chaotic retreat from the Sinai. In sum, as George Gawrych concludes, “Competing commands with overlapping responsibilities functioning in an atmosphere of little mutual cooperation had produced a disaster on the battlefield.

Finally, it is worth noting that even if Egypt’s leaders put aside all their differences and from the start

simply used the war plans developed prior to the war for the defense of the Sinai Peninsula, the Kaher defense plan, they would have run into problems. The Kaher Plan was yet another casualty of the competitive civil-military environment. It had been formulated in 1966, upon Amer’s directive, but planning was soon disrupted by personnel changes in the general staff; officers instrumental in the development of Kaher were removed for political reasons. During the undercover power struggle between the adherents of Amer and those of President Nasser, Amer had shifted out of the General staff most of the planners who had developed Operation Kaher. Implementation of the plan suffered. Many of its provisions remained little more than words on paper. The plan was never actually disseminated to division commanders. No war games based on the plan were held; no map-table exercises were ever conducted. The defensive installations and infrastructure required for the plan were incomplete

Problems plaguing infrastructure for Egypt’s air force illustrate the magnitude of the breakdown in

leadership. After the 1956 Suez conflict, the military recognized the need to build hardened hangers to protect its aircraft from bombing raids. A decade later, however, very little had been done to implement the lesson. In 1967 it had been five years since an airplane hangar had been constructed. Rather, under the command of Mohammed Sidqi Mahmoud, the airplane hangar project stagnated, a failure that “can only be ascribed to a lack of will and perseverance on the part of command.” In short, the effects of poor leadership in the mid-1960s reverberated throughout the military organization, significantly degrading the quality of military activity.

As in any crisis, the Egyptians were forced to react quickly in an uncertain and rapidly evolving political

climate in May 1967. This would challenge any military organization. But for Egypt, the effects of competition between the political and military leadership complicated things significantly. Rather than prompting the political and military leadership to develop a coordinated military strategy, to set out a general concept for operations and delineate some basic military objectives that could be translated down the chain of command, disagreements went unresolved. Instead, poor strategic assessment meant that Egyptian forces entered the war on 5 June with no clear concept of what they were supposed to accomplish. They were then governed by brittle and convoluted command structures that crumbled under the pressure of war. And they were led, in many cases, by poorly trained and ill-suited commanders, who had received their positions because of their political loyalty. As a result, in 1967, Egypt’s military forces consisted of an accumulation of men and equipment that lacked the conceptual and administrative glue to bind them into an effective fighting system.

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CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN THE EARLY 1970s

Anwar Sadat came to power shortly after Nasser’s death in September 1970 and inherited a regime that had been transformed in the final years of Nasser’s rule. Events following the 1967 war marked the beginning of these changes, and in many ways the Sadat era represents a continuation of these domestic political shift. On 9 June Nasser offered his resignation in a public speech to the Egyptian masses. The speech elicited a spontaneous eruption of support for the Arab leader. Egypt’s masses literally poured onto the streets. As such, “the demonstrators constituted a massive plebiscite compelling Nasser to remain in power,” and Nasser subsequently reinstated himself as political leader of the country.

Importantly, these events showed the loyalties of the masses lay with Nasser as political head of the

country and not with the army. As one observer put it, “At this moment [Nasser] discovered that he was more powerful than the army.” This was crucial. Nasser was now able to confront Amer and have him arrested. (Amer then reportedly committed suicide.) Even more significantly, Nasser was now able to seize control over appointments and remove Amer’s clique. Hundreds of officers were retired or resigned. Ultimately, over 1,000 officers were purged.

During this time, the military’s social support also declined significantly, as much of the population

blamed Egypt’s officers for the country’s miserable showing in 1967. The military became increasingly unpopular within civilian society at large. In accounts about the years following the war, analysts often report that soldiers were subject to open disrespect by the population. “People spit at them, taxi drivers refused to carry them,” one American journalist reported. On 22 June 1967, a prominent Egyptian newspaper, al-Goumhouria, published an article openly critical of the military, something that would have been unthinkable just weeks before. In February 1968 the population demonstrated against the sentences given to military chiefs for their mismanagement in the war, viewing them as too lenient.

When Sadat came to power after Nasser’s death in September 1970, he thus inherited a thoroughly

purged military and one whose social standing had fallen considerably. The military during this time lacked the cohesive groupings evident under Amer and therefore could not present a unified front. These divisions, for example, became evident in May 1971 when a powerful leftist constituency tried to stage a coup against Sadat. The coup failed because the chief of the military, who supported the coup, was unable to gain support from within the military hierarchy. The military was internally divided. Sadat found his own allies who, in turn, sabotaged the effort to remove him.

After coming to office, Sadat sought to expand middle-class support for the regime and build a new

support base for his rule. Nasser, in fact, had begun reaching out to the middle classes, and Sadat expanded these efforts. In September 1971 Sadat passed new legislation to encourage private investment in the economy. Tax benefits afforded to foreign capital were extended to local Egyptian investors. At the same time, major changes in labor legislation were adopted, including abolishment of all trade union branches at factories employing less than two hundred people in 1971. He also began to rethink the regimes’ long- standing policy of sequestration of capital from the landed classes—a concern from the early days of his presidency. Politically, as a result of the events of May 1971 described above, he sidelined the powerful coterie of leftists in the regime and marginalized the Arab Socialist Union, which they had controlled. His privatization initiatives, in turn, won him support among the rural middle class, private entrepreneurs, and the public sector. He also gained support from a new class of middlemen that operated at the nexus of the private and public arena and commercial interests, including contractors, real-estate speculators, importers and partners, agents of foreign firms, tourist operators, and lawyers. At the same time, Sadat continued to guarantee employment in the state bureaucracy to college graduates, such that it grew by 70 percent during Sadat’s tenure in office. Other measures targeted the rural middle class, as Sadat sought to vest them in his

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regime. In short, under Sadat, the middle classes were increasingly revived. The president benefited from “the solid base given to his rule by his alliance with the bourgeoisie, both its state and private wings.” While the military itself remained an important constituency, the regimes overall center of gravity shifted from the military toward the civilian arena.

Combined, these changes in Egypt’s domestic politics transformed the social context of civil-military

relations. They shifted the political-military balance of power. Analytically, the case resembles one in which domestic politics favored political dominance: Sadat’s expanding middle-class coalition— in combination with the absence of a large and influential faction in the military with strong ties to societal groups or mass interests—advantaged him in relations with his military chiefs. Under Sadat, the military consequently was transformed from a powerful political constituency to “a much smaller, weaker component of the elite. By the eighties, the military was merely one of a number of [organizational] interest groups. This in turn had important effects on key areas of military activity, which facilitated improvements in Egypt’s military effectiveness.

Military Activities

Strategic assessment in 1973 was dramatically changed from the dynamics observed in 1967. Sharing of information and consultation between the political and military leadership improved significantly. Sadat had unfettered access to multiple sources of information. Intelligence had been reformed. Consultation was also much more systematic. Sadat, in fact, used the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), an internal decision-making entity of the armed forces, as his primary consultative entity.

In addition, Sadat, as political chief, retained the power to make decisions about political and strategic

issues. To see through his limited war plan, Sadat, in fact, had to overrule many of his top military chiefs, including then minister of war General Sadiq, who opposed the concept. Many of his generals preferred to wait until Egypt was better equipped to engage Israel in a general war. In October 1972, fed up with Sadiq’s recalcitrance, Sadat fired him, the deputy war minister, and the heads of the navy and the Central Military District in Cairo. Over 100 senior officers were removed from their posts. Thus, where Nasser had been unable to dismiss and appoint officers, Sadat was able to remove officers to see through his preferred plans. In general, as one observer described the decision-making environment and the military’s influence over it, “The military still had some input . . . into defense policy, but its role had been reduced to that of simply giving professional advice.

In 1973 a clear chain of command was also in place. Sadat sat at its apex, his top military leader,

minister of war General Ahmed Ismail Ali at the next link, followed by chief of staff Lt. Gen. Saad Shazly, with other top commanders following Shazly’s lead. This structure of command and control, for example, revealed itself in the way that several controversies over command decisions were resolved during the course of the October war, on 10 October, 12 October, and 16 October.

The first incident, on 10 October, occurred four days after Egypt’s extremely successful crossing

operation and the establishment of a bridgehead on the east bank of the canal. Taken with Egypt’s early successes, Chief of Staff Shazly and Egypt’s other top military commanders began to push for an expansion of the offensive to the mountain passes inland from the canal zone. There were, however, serious risks involved in advancing the offensive. Egyptian capabilities were still inferior to the Israelis, especially in air power and offensive maneuver; as such, aggressive exploitation of the early successes “might have risked losing everything they won on those days. Despite the controversy and heated debate, the situation was resolved when Minister of War Ahmed Ismail vetoed Shazly’s plan

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Four days later, Egypt resumed the offensive. This time Sadat made the decision in favor of pursuing the attack for political reasons and against the advice of Ahmed Ismail. Sadat was being pressured by Syria (Egypt’s ally, which had cooperated in the war effort) to resume the offensive to the mountain passes. Despite Ahmed Ismail’s well-founded reservations, the chain of command was firmly intact. “[Ahmed Ismail Ali] had no choice but to obey his supreme commander.” Hence, “just as the tactical halt on October 10-13 occurred on Sadat’s directive, the decision to resume the offensive following the halt was a political decision.

The chain of command was tested one additional time after Israel's breach of Egypt’s defensive line

during the night of 15–16 October. A controversy ensued about how to respond to the Israeli offensive, with many of Egypt’s commanders urging that forces be withdrawn from the canal zone to support a counteroffensive. Ahmed Ismail refused. This caused a major rift in the high command. Sadat was called to Egypt’s command center to resolve the dispute. After consulting with Ahmed Ismail, he sided with his minister of war against removing Egyptian forces for a counterattack. Sadat himself notes that the conflict “ended only when I personally went to the operations room and made the decision that the armies would stay where they were.

In sum, Sadat and his military chiefs successfully overruled subordinates within the high command in

each incident. The integrity of the chain of command was maintained despite significant military dissent. Finally, in 1973 there was an important change in the quality of leader-ship observed in Egypt. Sadat

retained control over appointments and was able to appoint officers who were qualified to execute his war plans. To control appointments, Sadat reconfigured the formal machinery of military promotions and advancement. In November 1971, for example, Sadat established direct control over the Armed Forces Officers’ Committees for each of the service branches, which were in charge of promotions, nominations for major posts in the armed services, disciplinary action, and other personnel related matters. Sadat retained the power to unilaterally change the rules and procedures whereby they operated. Moreover, by selecting like-minded officers to sit on the committees, Sadat could shape the selection criteria for officers.

While not ignoring political factors, Sadat’s ability to control appointment processes meant that he had

greater flexibility to choose capable and skilled officers supportive of his war plans and that he was capable of executing his political-military strategy in 1973. Among Sadat’s pivotal appointments was Ahmed Ismail, who became minister of war on 26 October 1972. As Sadat himself put it, “The first actual decision on the October 6 war was taken when I removed former War Minister Sadiq and appointed Marshall Ahmed Ismail in his place.” Ahmed Ismail was a skilled, experienced, and willing military officer. Moreover, from Sadat’s point of view, he exhibited a “keen understanding of the subtle relationship between war and politics.” The general understood both the limitations of Egyptian capabilities that made war difficult and the political context that made it essential.

In general, Sadat’s authority had an important conditioning effect on his military leaders’ willingness

to comply with his initiatives. To reinforce this, he deliberately chose individuals disposed against active politicking. Among these, Mohammed Gamasy, chief of operations in the October 1973 war and later minister of war, is exemplary. Gamasy represented “the very model of the respected non-political professional prepared to defer to the authority of the President, and became a key figure in further consolidating the principle of non-military intervention in politics.” Gamasy, for example, was skeptical of many of Sadat’s policies yet never overtly challenged Sadat’s initiatives. As one observer remarked, “the Egyptian military leadership obeyed the orders even when their personal views were not in consonance.” In short, absent competition between political and military leaders, there was greater opportunity for Sadat to select capable officers to see through his policies.

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Implications for Military Effectiveness

Improvements in strategic assessment, command and control, and appointments facilitated Egypt’s planning and preparation for war in 1973. The importance of strategic assessment is evident, for example, in the systematic way the strategic concept for the 1973 war was developed. In 1972, Sadat commissioned a report from General Ahmed Ismail, who was then head of military intelligence, about the possibility of conducting a war against the Israelis. The report included detailed studies of Israeli capabilities and assessments of its own, as well as other Arab states’ forces. From this process of evaluation, Egypt chose to launch a surprise attack with limited aims in order to ignite negotiations with Israel.

Two things are notable about this strategy. First, it carefully matched Egypt's capabilities with its

strategic and political goals. The limited war strategy was based on an explicit acknowledgment of the limits of Egypt’s military capacity to launch a total war and reclaim the land through force. The epitome of politics by other means, the plan not only integrated military strategy with political objectives, it also reflected a high level of responsiveness to limitations in Egypt’s military effectiveness.

Second, it took advantage of the benefits of surprise: the high command recognized that in order to take

advantage of Egypt’s large quantity but uneven quality of forces, a surprise offensive would be essential. Yet the military leadership also realized that concealing Egypt’s intentions to attack would be a major undertaking. The leadership would have to disguise its intentions to go to war, its war plans, and the timing of the attack. To support its military strategy, the high command formulated an elaborate deception plan. The goal was to reinforce Israel’s existing beliefs about Egypt’s lack of capability and tendency to engage in military action for domestic reasons. These measures included disseminating false reports about problems Egyptian forces were having in assimilating equipment, as well as scheduling mobilizations, military movements and training exercises in order to distract Israel from movements of forces to the front

The clarity of command and control was also key to the implementation of the deception plan. To see

the plan through, careful controls were put on the exchange of information within the chain of command. War plans involved thousands of men and pieces of equipment across two fronts (Syria and Egypt). They required that every soldier be appropriately trained, every weapon be in place, and every officer be well- versed in his specific responsibilities when the signal to begin the offensive was given—yet information about the day and time of the attack also had to remain secret until the last moment; operational security was paramount. Consequently, the high command developed a detailed timetable stipulating when each layer in the command structure was to be informed of the time of attack. Senior officers were briefed days before; some local army and air force commanders received word only forty-eight hours in advance, and in some cases, the troops themselves were told just minutes before the attack. When the Israelis interviewed prisoners of war, they found that 95 percent of Egyptians captured learned of the attack only on the morning of 6 October. It is doubtful that Egypt could have executed the crossing without a resilient command and control structure, given the vital importance of strategic and tactical surprise to the success of the operation and the need to conceal its intentions from Israeli intelligence. At issue was the capacity of the military to structure the entire process of information exchange in support of its strategy.

The clarity of command and control also helped ensure the integration of political goals with military

means in other ways. Although they have attracted significant post hoc criticism, the tactical decisions issued during the October war were consistent with Egypt’s military strategy and the broader grand strategy in which it was embedded. Sadat realized that any political leverage Egypt would have after the war depended on him holding the strip of recaptured territory on the east bank of the canal when the superpowers imposed a cease-fire. He therefore vetoed early pressures from his chiefs to expand the offensive, ensuring that his bridgehead was consolidated. He later agreed it was for political reasons because he feared the

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Syrians would pursue an early cease-fire and compromise his broader political strategy. Finally, he refused to allow any forces to be withdrawn from the canal zone to respond to the Israeli breach of its defensive line, even when it was otherwise tactically questionable. In each case, the decision made was consistent with the broader strategic objective of maintaining Egypt’s position in the canal zone.

Finally, Egypt benefited greatly from the promotion of skilled and talented officers in 1973. The quality

of military planning improved considerably. One of the clearest ways to see this is the degree to which the leadership tailored military activity to Egypt’s and Israel’s respective strengths and weaknesses and the responsiveness of the military organization to these constraints.

The Egyptians recognized that the Israelis had strong technical-tactical proficiency in offensive maneuver, while acknowledging their own deficiencies in adapting to fluid and fast-paced operations. As a result, rather than attempt a maneuver-based operational concept, despite its advantages, the Egyptian planning staff sought to tailor the plan to the country’s own strengths—Egypt’s superiority in numbers. Through the use of steamrolling tactics, Egypt’s planners relied on mass over maneuver, calling for a full frontal assault along the entire length of the canal zone. The plan emphasized static defense, which would allow the Egyptians to prioritize local firepower over speed and mobility.

These tactics were well-suited to the quality of Egyptian manpower, which was substantial but

generally of low literacy and rural origins. Training was tailored to the largely unskilled, rural force. Everything was highly scripted according to orders from the high command. Egyptian troops repeated drills until they were memorized. In short, despite the obvious limitations of the approach, to rapidly train the large numbers of rural recruits and make the most of manpower resources, “Nothing was left either to imagination or personal initiative; the stress was on mechanical repetition of acquired skills.

A similar sensitivity characterized planning for the air force. Egypt's high command recognized that

Israel had substantial superiority in the air. Egyptian leaders consequently made a deliberate decision not to use Egypt’s air force (except for some initial pre-war air strikes). They also built a dense zone of surface- to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns around the canal zone to provide an umbrella over Egyptian operations and insulate it from attack by the Israel Air Force (IAF). Egyptian forces were extensively trained on these systems. Crew proficiency was high. After three weeks of war, systems that had not been destroyed by Israeli sabotage were still in operation; moreover, they were often observed firing salvos and not just ingle missiles. The guns severely inhibited the IAF’s activity in the area DOMESTIC POLITICS AND MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS

In June 1967, Egypt shocked the world with its atrocious performance in battle, only to stun the world again with its improvements in the October1973 war. What accounts for the variation in Egypt’s military effectiveness?

This article argues that fundamental differences in the domestic politics of the regime—in the social

support enjoyed by the political leadership and the military and in the internal unity of the military leadership—affected the balance of power in civil-military relations, key military activities, and ultimately Egypt’s military effectiveness in the two periods. In 1967 Nasser was sharing power with his military and competing for control of military affairs. As a result, he was unable to reclaim appointment prerogatives and remove Amer and his cohort of officers from command. Appointments became increasingly politicized, and the quality of leadership declined. Strategic assessment also suffered as the two leaders resisted coordination, and Amer carefully guarded his control of information. As the two leaders tried to enhance their authority within the military hierarchy, command and control structures became increasingly more responsive to political concerns than issues of clarity and functionality.

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In 1973 a change in the state’s domestic politics paved the way for dramatic improvements in military effectiveness. A shift in the relative power of political and military leaders—due to an expansion of the political coalition and decline in the cohesion of the military—fundamentally altered the civil-military balance of power. Anwar Sadat was able to appoint a skilled command, ensure a responsive and clearly defined chain of command, and benefit from the reform of coordination and information exchange in strategic assessment. A skilled command, hand-picked by Sadat, produced a nearly seamless military policy: everything from training to logistics to tactics to operational plans and military strategy acted in concert. In this domestic setting, Sadat was able to oversee the translation of his security goals into military policies tailored to his higher objectives. Egypt was able to make the most of its resources in men and equipment to achieve its strategic objectives and demonstrated remarkable improvement in military effectiveness.

Like all historical events, the Egyptian experiences in 1967 and 1973are unique in many ways, but they

nonetheless offer important lessons for scholars and analysts interested in understanding the sources of autocracies’ military effectiveness. In particular, they suggest that analysis of these states’ military capabilities should be rooted in broader assessments of each state’s domestic politics and civil-military relations. Changes and crises within domestic society—those that affect a political leader’s ties to social groups and mass popularity or affect the position and unity of the military leadership— merit special attention. Through their effects on the balance of power at the civil-military apex, these domestic changes can affect internal processes essential to organizing for war.

More broadly, the article encourages scholars to think systematically about differences among

authoritarian regimes in researching questions central to the study of war and peace. Scholars of international relations, in particular, need better understandings of the politics and internal logic of authoritarian regimes. This is essential if we are to understand outcomes of profound interest, such as states’ war-fighting abilities. Notably, for example, few outside analysts either before the 1967 or the 1973 wars comprehended the implications of Egypt’s domestic environment and civil-military relations for military effectiveness. In each case, Israel and the world were caught off guard. In 1967 they were surprised by the intense pathologies bred by Egypt’s civil-military relations and the remarkable ease of victory of Israeli forces. In 1973 they failed to recognize the significance of changes in civil military relations and how they facilitated change in Egypt’s war strategy and improvements in military effectiveness. This article suggests that in both cases, deeper probing of the significance of the underlying politics of the regimes might have led to better informed estimates of Egypt’s war-fighting potential.

Finally, the analysis speaks to the connection between civil-military relations and military

effectiveness. To date, much of the scholarly debate about these issues has focused on the ideal division of labor between military and political leaders. Samuel Huntington, for example, argues a rigid division of labor—which allows the military clear control over the development and execution of strategy, operational plans, and tactical activity once politicians make the decision to use force—is conducive to military effectiveness. Conversely, scholars like Eliot Cohen and Barry Posen suggest that so much military autonomy can be problematic; they argue that active interventions in planning and operations by capable and internationally-minded political leaders are essential to rationalizing military activity and, by implication, promoting effectiveness. This article also suggests that political dominance has clear advantages in creating effective militaries—at least in autocracies—but for somewhat different reasons. Political leaders are not necessarily wiser or better attuned to external stimuli and therefore inherently inclined to promote efficient and responsive military policies. Rather, in autocracies where domestic politics can engender rivalries for control of the military, clear dominance by the political leader engenders structural advantages as the state prepares for war: it alleviates the pathologies in strategic assessment, command and control, and leadership that are the byproducts of efforts by political and military leaders to

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enhance their prerogatives and influence over the military. After all, Anwar Sadat was not necessarily a more intelligent, savvy, strategically adroit, or militarily experienced leader than was Gamal Abdel Nasser. He did, however, face dramatically different civil-military relations than Nasser in the mid-1960s. As a result, Sadat—who, ironically enough, was in fact viewed as an unimpressive candidate when he took office—was able to oversee unprecedented improvements in Egypt’s military effectiveness, while his charismatic predecessor failed on the battlefield

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity L421: Reading D

Leadership and Systems Thinking Author: COL George Reed

Leaders operate in the realm of bewildering uncertainty and staggering complexity. Today’s problems

are rarely simple and clear-cut. If they were, they would likely already have been solved by someone else. If not well considered—and sometimes even when they are—today’s solutions become tomorrow’s problems. Success in the contemporary operating environment requires different ways of thinking about problems and organizations. This article introduces some concepts of systems thinking and suggests that it is a framework that should be understood and applied by leaders at all levels, but especially those within the acquisition community.

It is insufficient and often counterproductive for leaders merely to act as good cogs in the machine.

Leaders perform a valuable service when they discern that a venerated system or process has outlived its usefulness, or that it is operating as originally designed but against the organization’s overall purpose. Sometimes we forget that systems are created by people, based on an idea about what should happen at a given point in time. A wise senior warrant officer referred to this phenomenon as a BOGSAT—a bunch of guys sitting around talking. Systems Endure

Although times and circumstances may change, systems tend to endure. We seem to be better at creating new systems than changing or eliminating existing ones. Sociologist Robert K. Merton coined the term “goal displacement” to describe what happens when complying with bureaucratic processes becomes the objective rather than focusing on organizational goals and values. When that happens, systems take on a life of their own and seem immune to common sense. Thoughtless application of rules and procedures can stifle innovation, hamper adaptivity, and dash creativity. Wholesale disregard of rules and procedures, however, can be equally disastrous.

When members of an organization feel as though they must constantly fight the system by

circumventing established rules and procedures, the result can be cynicism or a poor ethical climate. Because of their experience and position, leaders are invested with the authority to intervene and correct or abandon malfunctioning systems. At the very least, they can advocate for change in a way that those with less positional authority cannot. Leaders at all levels should, therefore, be alert to systems that drive human behavior inimical to organizational effectiveness. It is arguable that military organizations placing a premium on tradition and standardization are predisposed to goal displacement. We need leaders, therefore, who can see both the parts and the big picture; to this end some of the concepts of systems thinking are useful.

The Department of Defense is a large and complex social system with many interrelated parts. As with

any system of this type, when changes are made to one part, many others are affected in a cascading and often unpredictable manner. Thus, organizational decisions are fraught with second and third order effects that result in unintended consequences. “Fire and forget” approaches are rarely sufficient and are sometimes downright harmful. Extensive planning—combined with even the best of intentions does not guarantee

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success. Better prediction is not the answer, nor is it possible. There are so many interactions in complex systems that no individual can be expected to forecast the impact of even small changes that are amplified over time.

Getting Beyond the Machine Metaphor

In her book Organization Theory: Modern, Symbolic, and Postmodern Perspectives, Mary Jo Hatch provides an introduction to general systems theory that is useful in thinking about organizations. She makes a point worthy of repeating: The use of lower level models is problematic when applied to higher level systems. Thus, the language of simple machines creates blind spots when used as a metaphor for human or social systems; human systems are infinitely more complex and dynamic. In other words, it can be counterproductive to treat a complex dynamic social system like a simple machine.

Noted management scholar Russell Ackoff puts it another way. He asserts that we are in the process of

leaving the machine age that had roots in the Renaissance and came into favor through the industrialization of society. In that era the machine metaphor became the predominant way of looking at organizations. The universe was envisioned by thinkers such as Isaac Newton, as having the characteristics of a big clock. The workings of the clock could be understood through the process of analysis and the analytical method.

Analysis involves taking apart something of interest, trying to understand the behavior of its parts, and

then assembling the understanding of the parts into an understanding of the whole. According to Ackoff, “One simple relationship—cause and effect—was sufficient to explain all relationships.” Much machine- age thinking remains with us today; however, there are alternatives. Systems Thinking

Systems, like the human body, have parts, and the parts affect the performance of the whole. All of the parts are interdependent. The liver interacts with and affects other internal organs—the brain, heart, kidneys, etc. You can study the parts singly, but because of the interactions, it doesn’t make much practical sense to stop there. Understanding of the system cannot depend on analysis alone. The key to understanding is, therefore, synthesis. The systems approach is to: Identify a system. After all, not all things are systems. Some systems are simple and predictable, while others are complex and dynamic. Most human social systems are the latter. Explain the behavior or properties of the whole system. This focus on the whole is the process of synthesis. Ackoff says that analysis looks into things while synthesis looks out of things. Explain the behavior or properties of the thing to be explained in terms of the role(s) or function(s) of the whole.

The systems thinker retains focus on the system as a whole, and the analysis in step three (the third bullet) is always in terms of the overall purpose of the system. Borrowing Ackoff’s approach and using the example of a contemporary defense issue might help clarify what is admittedly abstract at first glance.

Consider the Institute for Defense Analyses report Transforming DoD Management: the Systems

Approach. The authors of this study suggested an alternative approach to Service-based readiness reporting, one that considered the entire defense transportation system. One section of the report suggests that

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knowing the status of equipment, training, and manning of transportation units is helpful but insufficient to determine the readiness of a system that includes elements such as airfields, road networks, ships, and ports. The defense transportation system includes elements of all Services and even some commercial entities. It only makes sense, therefore, to assess readiness of these elements as part of a larger system that has an identifiable purpose—to move personnel and materiel to the right place at the right time. In this example you can clearly see the approach recommended by Ackoff. The Problem of Busyness

Few would disagree, in principle, that senior leaders should see not only the parts, but also the big picture. So why don’t we do more of it? One reason is because we are so darned busy. Immersed in the myriad details of daily existence, it is easy to lose sight of the bigger picture. While it may be important to orient on values, goals, and objectives, the urgent often displaces the important. Fighting off the alligators inevitably takes precedence over draining the swamp.

The problem of busyness can be compounded by senior leaders who are overscheduled and uneducated

in systems thinking. It seems as though military officers today work excessive hours as a matter of pride. A cursory examination of the calendar of most contemporary officers, especially flag officers, will indicate an abusive pace. Consider as an alternative the example of one of America’s greatest soldier statesmen, Gen. George C. Marshall. Even at the height of World War II, Marshall typically rode a horse in the morning for exercise, came home for lunch and visited with his wife, went to bed early, and regularly took retreats to rejuvenate. To what extent are such pauses for reflection and renewal valued today? Simple cause and effect thinking combined with a culture of busyness can result in decision makers who rapid-fire short-term solutions at long-term problems without taking time to think about the actual impact of those solutions.

A common symptom of this phenomenon can be seen in leaders who unrealistically demand simplicity

and certainty in a complex and uncertain environment. The drive for simplicity can lead to the need for excessive assumptions. Few contemporary issues of significance can be understood, much less solved, in a two-page point paper or a PowerPoint® slide. We might also ask whether speed and decisiveness in decision making, so valued at the tactical level, work to the detriment of good decisions at the strategic level. Absent some discipline and techniques to do otherwise, it is very hard to find time for reflection and thoughtful decision making.

Most people expect learning to just happen without their taking the time for thought and reflection,

which true learning requires. In the past, with slower communication systems, we often had a few weeks to ponder and rethink a decision. Today we’re accustomed to e-mails, faxes, overnight letters, and cell phones, and have come to believe that an immediate response is more important than a thoughtful one. Steven Robbins, writing in Harvard Business School Working Knowledge in May 2003. Interrelationships, Not Things

Peter Senge submits, in The Fifth Discipline, that systems thinking provides just the type of discipline and toolset needed to encourage the seeing of “interrelationships rather than things, for seeing patterns of change rather than static ‘snapshots.’” Senge argues that this shift of mind is necessary to deal with the complexities of dynamic social systems. He suggests that we think in terms of feedback loops as a substitute for simple cause and effect relationships.

As an example, systems scholar Daniel Aronson suggests that we imagine a farmer who determines

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that an insect infestation is eating his crop. The conventional approach is to apply a pesticide designed to kill the insect. Our example at this point depicts the lowest level of the thinking hierarchy—reaction. In response to the appearance of insects, the farmer applies a pesticide because he assumes that what has worked in the past will work in this instance. As additional insects appear, the farmer applies more pesticide. While the farmer’s goal is to produce a crop, his activity is increasingly consumed by recurring applications of the chemical. He is surely busy, but he may not necessarily be productive. A systems thinker might step back from the problem, take a broader view, and consider what is happening over time.

For example, he might think about whether there are any patterns that appear over weeks or months

and attempt to depict what is actually occurring. Recognizing the pattern of a system over time is a higher- order level of thinking. The systems thinker might notice that insect infestation did decrease after applying pesticide, but only for a short time. Insects that were eating the crop were actually controlling a second species of insect not affected by the pesticide. Elimination of the first species resulted in a growth explosion in the second that caused even more damage than the first. The obvious solution caused unintended consequences that worsened the situation.

An accomplished systems thinker would model the above example using a series of feedback and

reinforcing loops. The specifics of the modeling technique are less important at this point than the observation that systems thinking tends to see things in terms of loops and patterns aided by constant assessment of what is happening, rather than flow charts and reliance on what should be happening. At the highest level of thinking, the farmer would try to identify root causes or possible points of intervention suggested by these observations. The Importance of Continuous Assessment

In Why Smart Executives Fail, Sydney Finkelstein examined over 50 of the world’s most notorious business failures. His analysis indicated that in almost every case, the failures were not attributable to stupidity or lack of attention. To the contrary, the leaders of well-known corporations such as Samsung Motors, WorldCom, and Enron were exceptionally bright, energetic, and deeply involved in the operation of their businesses. Up to the point of massive corporate failure, they were all extremely successful, and in almost every case, there were some in the organization who vainly raised objections to the course that eventually proved disastrous. In most instances, the executives failed to see or accept what was actually happening. In some cases, they were blinded by their own prior successes; in other cases they inexplicably held tenaciously to a vision, despite plenty of evidence that the chosen strategic direction was ill-advised. The systems thinker’s pragmatic focus on determining what is actually happening serves as a preventative to self-delusional wishful thinking. Wishful thinking is no substitute for a realistic appraisal. In the language of systems thinking, the executives were trapped by their own faulty mental models.

The continuous assessment process that is characteristic of systems thinking is essential in a volatile,

rapidly changing environment. It takes time and good habits of critical reflection to engage in this kind of learning, both for individuals and organizations.

A systemic approach to failure is more likely to result in effective long-term solutions. Imagine for a

moment if the incidents of abuse at Abu Ghraib were chalked up merely to ineffective leadership or just miscreant behavior by some thugs on the night shift. If other factors contributed to the problem, after relieving the chain of command for cause and prosecuting the abusers, the members of the replacement chain of command might have found themselves in an equally untenable situation. While inspired leadership can make a difference under the worst of conditions, we might ask just how heroic we expect our leaders to be on a regular basis. When a system is so obviously stacked against our leaders, there is a

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moral imperative to change the system. Systems thinking is no panacea. There is no checklist to work through that will guarantee someone is

thinking in a way that will capture the big picture or identify root causes of difficult problems. There are some concepts and approaches embedded in the systems thinking literature, however, that can be very helpful when considering why a situation seems to be immune to intervention, or why a problem thought to be solved has returned with a vengeance. Here are some of the concepts:

• Focus on the purpose for which a system was created over the processes and procedures of the system. • Simple cause-and-effect relationships are insufficient to understand or explain a complex social system. Patterns over time and feedback loops are a better way to think about the dynamics of complex systems. • Think in terms of synthesis over analysis; the whole over the parts. • Busyness and excessive focus on short term gains interferes with our ability to use a systems approach. • Leaders must see what is actually happening over what they want to see happen. • Thinking about systems and their dynamics suggests alternative approaches and attunes leaders to important aspects of organizational behavior, especially in military organizations that value tradition and standardization

L422

Leading Multi-National Operations

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

Advance Sheet for L422

Leading in Multi-National Operations 1. SCOPE

How does a commander influence forces in a multi-national operation? As a multi-national operation commander, is it possible to understand and leverage fundamental beliefs or concepts that appeal to all militaries? Can good social, emotional, and cultural intelligence overcome national differences? These are some of the challenges experienced by Lt. Gen. William Joseph Slim as one of the senior allied battlefield commanders during WWII. Conducting large-scale combat operations in the Burma campaign in 1942- 1945 against superior Imperial Japanese forces and without adequate resources, Slim turned defeat into victory using a multi-national operation consisting of a broad mix of allied nations. This lesson’s case study provides a constructive example of how an Army commander inspired his multi-national force to unite and fight under a common cause.

You analyze the case after reflecting on the readings for this lesson. Two readings come from RTO-

TR-HFM-120, a 2006 NATO report with an aim to highlight and raise the profile of intercultural factors within multi-national operations. The primary objective of the report is to increase awareness and understanding of the influence of intercultural factors on a multi-national force. The report highlights organizational, national, and military culture, including some of Dr. Edgar Schein’s and Dr. Geert Hofstede’s concepts.

You use the NATO report in your analysis of how Slim led his multi-national force to victory. The

insights you gain provide a better understanding of why it is critical to recognize the underlying values and importance of a shared vision within a multi-national operation. This lesson provides an opportunity to examine the importance of understanding the enemy’s’ underlying values to defeat him. L422 provides an opportunity to apply many of the concepts from earlier leadership lessons to what Slim accomplished in Burma. Moreover, this lesson is a foundational lesson in AOC that provides concepts you apply as you face the challenges of building a multi-national coalition in the large-scale combat operation scenario in AOC.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite Learning objective: TLO-AOC-1, “Examine how commanders drive the operations process using the framework of understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess (UVDDLA).” This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO-10.4 Action: Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations. Condition: As a field grade officer at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the

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principals of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes— a. Explain the significance of shared values in multi-national operations. b. Explain the significance of cross-cultural awareness and understanding in the operations process. c. Explain the role of the transformational and transcultural leader in commanding multinational operations. Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. L422 advance sheets and readings are available on Blackboard. b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement:

Read: L422RA: “Slim in Burma,” by Scott A. Porter. Created by and for CGSC. [15 pages] L422RB: “Introduction” from Chapter 1 of TO-TR-HFM-120, by Brian McKee, Angela R.

Febbraro, and Sharon L. Riedel [Read paragraphs 1.3.1 through 1.3.4. [5 pages.] L422RC: “Leadership and Command” from Chapter 3 of TO-TR-HFM-120, by Angela R.

Febbraro, Read paragraphs 3.2.4 through 3.2.6. [5 pages]. L422RD: Dimensionalizing Cultures: The Hofstede Model in Context, by Dr. Geert Hofstede,

2010 [8 pages] at: http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol2/iss1/8/?&sa=U&ei=9owuVLrgCIfXaqzngIgJ&ved=0CEsQFj AJ&usg=AFQjCNFBrStE0AJaAVPLrpU8s-lDqibYvw For additional (optional) readings on this topic, consider:

L422ORA: “Higher Command in War” by Field Marshal Sir William Slim Read Pages 10-21. [11 pages], which is a verbatim transcript of GEN Slim’s 1952 address to CGSC students, faculty and staff.

(2) Second Requirement: Case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the AOC

leadership lesson area. This is a study aid. Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the case. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in the case study.

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(3) Third Requirement: Reflective questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

-Is it possible to achieve commitment in a large multi-national operation or is compliance the highest level of influence one can achieve?

-Did LTG Slim demonstrate transformational leadership behaviors that are consistent with US Army doctrine?

-Does a “supranational culture” really exist between all military organizations?

-Should we judge other cultures solely by the values and standards of our own culture?

-How can you use the concepts to gain commitment in a multi-national force?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access: L422 advance sheet and readings 5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

The instructor assesses your performance in L422 as part of the Module II: JRSOI grade, as well as the leadership exam at the end of AOC. The instructor accomplishes this through assessing your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the AOC leadership essay. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading A Slim in Burma

Author: Scott A. Porter

"People buy into the leader before they buy into the vision.” John C Maxwell

In May of 1943, Lieutenant-General William Slim took command of a newly constituted British Army in India. The opportunity to command at Army level greatly surprised Slim. He was convinced that the commander-in-chief in India (also responsible for Burma’s defense), General Archibald Wavell, was going to dismiss him from his corps command after participating in a disastrous Army-level offensive against Japanese forces along the Arakan coast of Burma. Instead General Wavell relieved Slim’s superior, Army commander Lieutenant-General Noel Irwin. The news of defeat spread quickly to London, where Winston Churchill commented: “The campaign goes from bad to worse, and we are being completely outfought and outmaneuvered by the Japanese.” Churchill was right. The British enjoyed a considerable advantage in both air and ground forces over the Japanese, only to be beaten by a better led and trained enemy. Regrettably, the loss at Arakan followed the recent retreat from Burma. This same Army suffered humiliation and defeat while fighting a withdrawal for one thousand miles through the Burmese jungles and into India. It was the longest retreat in British history, and now it was capped off by the humiliating Arakan defeat. Irwin hoped to catch the Japanese by surprise, assuming they would not expect an attack after all of their successes. Instead, the Japanese Army built almost impregnable defensive blockhouses and was prepared for anything the British threw at them. The British were once again badly beaten and forced to retreat into India. Nothing in Southeast Asia had gone well for them, and final defeat loomed over their heads. It now seemed nothing was going to stop the inevitable Japanese onslaught into India.

Slim’s Army had its back against the wall, and it was either time to stop the Japanese or face total

annihilation. To make matters worse, the Burmese theater was the last priority along the Allied supply line, well behind the European, African and other campaigns in the Pacific theater. This newly constituted Army, created from everything the Allies could scrape up in Southeast Asia, was composed of commonwealth and non-commonwealth nations. British, Nepalese, Indians (Hindu, Sikh and Muslim troops), West and East Africans, Chinese, and American forces were in the mix. Slim’s new command would be designated the Fourteenth Army, and the new unit patch of a red shield and dagger was a symbol of hope to adorn every shoulder. Hope aside, the challenges Slim faced were astronomical. Administration and supply were almost nonexistent, and language and cultural differences made command and control a continual challenge. To make matters worse, the Allied nations did not share a common vision of how to beat the Japanese. The Japanese Offensive in Southeast Asia

Burma was part of a wider conflict waged in Asia and the Pacific. In December 1941, the Japanese attacked not only Pearl Harbor but also Southeast Asia. On the “Burma attack axis,” the Imperial Japanese Army quickly captured Saigon and then sliced through western French Indochina, Siam (Thailand), and into Burma, capturing Rangoon by February 1942. The aggressive Japanese armies killed or captured thousands of prisoners along the way, decimating Allied morale and fragmenting the remaining forces. If defeat was not bad enough, the Allies were shocked to learn the Japanese had a complete disregard for

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waging war in accordance with the Geneva Convention. The Imperial Japanese Army treated prisoners inhumanely, including summary executions and hanging many upside down for bayonet practice. Civilians were not immune to Japanese brutality. The Japanese raped thousands of women, wiped out villages, and strafed refugee columns for target practice. Allied forces did everything they could to stop the Japanese, but were overrun before they could concentrate enough combat power to break the Japanese momentum.

In Burma, the Allies attempted to form defensive positions in the jungle only to be rapidly encircled and decimated. The Japanese had every tactical advantage. They were mobile yet lethal, led by determined and ruthless commanders. During the fighting withdrawal, Slim commanded “Burma Corps,” composed of the 17th Indian and 1st Burma Divisions. The Burma Corps withdrew under pressure for 100 days in the extreme heat and with a lack of supplies, surviving unimaginable harsh conditions. Yet unlike most Allied units, they made it to India as a cohesive unit. Providentially for the Allies, the Japanese Army was for the time overextended, and it needed time to reorganize and resupply. In an attempt to gain the initiative, Lieutenant-General Noel Irwin launched what he thought would be a surprise attack back into Burma, only to be stopped cold by entrenched Japanese defensives. Although Slim was part of these setbacks, his promotion to Army commander was a risk Wavell’s superior, the supreme commander of the South East Asia Command (SEAC), Admiral Louis Mountbatten, was willing to take. Mountbatten optimistically expected a reversal of fortune in the Fourteenth Army, as he had absolute trust and confidence in Slim to turn defeat into victory. However, the Allies were licking their wounds and holding their breath while restless Japanese commanders took an operational pause and prepared for a major offensive into India. Lieutenant-General Mutaguchi, commander of the Japanese 15th Army in Burma, was confident: “The Army has now reached the stage of invincibility, and the day when the Rising Sun will proclaim our definite victory in India is not far off.”

The American View in Southeast Asia

China was the priority for the United States in Southeast Asia. Britain’s priority was India. Controlling Burma was essential to both nations. The British exploited Burma for economic gains for years, but now they viewed Burma primarily as a last defense against a Japanese invasion of India. The Americans looked at Burma as a strategic imperative for supplying Chiang Kai-Shek in China. President Roosevelt considered China a vital interest to the United States, and was convinced that China would be the fourth of the Big Four post-war powers. In the short term, China was important because it was the only place from which the United States could bomb Japan. The president assumed the leader of the warlords in China, Chiang Kai- Shek, was the most likely future leader of a united China, despite the overtures Mao Tse-tung was making with his Chinese Communist movement. The United States had supplied Chiang Kai-Shek with massive

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aid since the Japanese invaded Eastern China in 1938. Even though the war bogged down in China, the United States was still committed to aiding Chiang Kai-Shek, who now had his headquarters in Chungking, a city in western China. The supply route to Chiang Kai-Shek was the “Burma Road” which ran from Rangoon to the Chinese border. However, ever since the Japanese held Burma, a new supply route had to be constructed from Eastern India through northern Burma (linking into the Burma Road) to China. It would become known as the “Ledo Road.” The Ledo road was just 103 miles long but would take 15,000 US troops and 35,000 locals most of 1943 to build.

Construction of the supply routes and resupply operations to the Chinese was under the command of Lieutenant General Joseph “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell. Stillwell, as the deputy supreme commander, was the commander-in-chief for all US forces in the China/Burma/India (CBI) Theater and chief of staff for Chiang Kai-Shek. A West Point graduate and severely disabled from the First World War, Stilwell was an eccentric, hard-nosed officer who disregarded all formality and was apt to not only disagree, but also openly insult and verbally abuse any superior. His peers looked in amazement as he openly criticized and poked fun at the Army Chief of Staff, General George C. Marshal, to his face. Strangely enough, Marshal rated Stilwell as the best corps commander in the US Army. Marshal was actually a long-time mentor of Stilwell, loved his grit, unrelenting determination, and genuine concern for his troops. Marshal also knew Stilwell was highly intelligent and a skilled Chinese linguist. Stilwell served three tours in China, embracing the culture and understanding the internal dynamics of Chinese politics. Although Stilwell would be outranked in Southeast Asia by British flag officers, everyone in Washington knew Vinegar Joe would “hold his own.”

In addition to supplying nationalist Chinese forces, Roosevelt sent Stilwell off to India with two new

priorities. The first was to convince Chaing Kai-Shek to place his armies under operational control of the United States to help ensure their loyalty as an ally in the fight against Japan. President Roosevelt expressed earlier to Stilwell his concern that his “Europe first” policy would dishearten Chaing Kai-Shek to a point where he would sign a separate peace treaty with the Japanese. Stillwell had to ensure this did not occur. The second priority was to help mend relations between the Chinese and British, who had been at odds for generations. President Roosevelt could not have picked a worse person for this task. The problem was that Stilwell, just as much as the Chinese, detested the British and their military policies in the Far East. He refused to work for any British commander, as his distaste for the British and their empire became more and more obsessive. He considered Mountbatten a useless naval officer who led a charmed life who only advanced due to his royal connections as a great-grandson of Queen Victoria.

With Mountbatten as the supreme authority, Stilwell was in a precarious situation as his deputy supreme

commander. Technically, Stilwell’s American and Chinese forces were not part of Fourteenth Army, and it appeared Stilwell was to play his maverick role and operate independently from Mountbatten’s goals and objectives. At a time when the Allies needed a combined effort, it appeared instead the entire command structure in Southeast Asia was to be disjointed and uncoordinated.

Slim understood the crisis in command and became the bridge builder. Slim established a professional

and personal relationship with Stilwell centered on conveying the importance of a unified effort to defeat the Japanese in Southeast Asia. Slim’s intellect, competency, and inspiration transposed Stilwell’s refusal to serve under British command. Slim understood the significance of Stilwell’s bias against aristocratic British generals, and insured Stilwell was aware that he advanced up the ranks the hard way, through leading men in combat. Slim likewise knew that appealing to Stilwell’s warrior ethos was the key to influencing him, and Slim was right. Stilwell was surprised Slim had an operational vision and plan to defeat Imperial Japanese forces in Southeast Asia. Stilwell admired Slim’s fighting spirit and knew a bold, combined effort to attack the Japanese in Burma would be the Allies’ best chance for success. To everyone’s amazement, in the last minute just when the coalition was falling apart, Stilwell announced he would serve under Slim’s

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command. Stilwell had uncharacteristically taken an unshakable admiration for another general, and a British one at that. It would mean a tremendous boost in combat power and resources for the Fourteenth Army. Just as important, it meant a common approach to beating the Japanese in Southeast Asia. Slim’s relationship with Stilwell proved invaluable to not only the Fourteenth Army, but also to Mountbatten and the overall Allied cause.

Courtesy of the United States Military Academy Department of History.

Preparing the Fourteenth Army for Victory

Mountbatten issued Slim a formidable mission; stop the Japanese from invading India while preparing for a major offensive to retake Burma. This would require beating the Japanese at their own game: jungle warfare. It seemed like an impossible mission, attacking an undefeated and ruthless enemy with a fragmented Army that experienced one defeat after another. Slim learned hard lessons from the withdrawal. “We had taken a thorough beating. We, the Allies, had been outmaneuvered, outfought and outgeneraled. Japanese commanders were confident, bold to the point of foolhardiness, and so aggressive that never for one day did they lose the initiative.” Slim, short on time and supplies, had to unite, motivate, and train his Army to attack and defeat the wary Japanese before they attacked him. However, where to start in assessing a demoralized and beaten Army? What could he do as an Army commander? He immediately met with his subordinate commanders and assessed the situation. He decided to prioritize and act upon three urgent matters: supply, health and morale.

Supplying the two corps of the Fourteenth Army was a continual challenge with its 700-mile front,

stretching from the Chinese border to the Bay of Bengal. The terrain in eastern India and western Burma consisted of thick mountainous jungle, so difficult to travel that not even a trade route existed, much less an improved road or rail network. Once through these mountainous jungles, Burma opens up into an interior plain with four large rivers that run north-south. To carry out a major offensive in this terrain, an Army had to be innovative in how it resupplied, or it was destined to quickly culminate. The supply problem in the Fourteenth Army had to be fixed, and fast. Slim gave it his highest priority, and gave guidance to his staff to set in motion an engineering feat unknown in that part of the world to build road and rail networks. Instead of worrying about the differences in his units, he looked for strengths and capabilities. In the Americans, he found large robust planning staffs, engineer and railroad building capabilities, and Dakota DC-3 aircraft. There were many skilled laborers in the Indians and Chinese, and in the Africans and Nepalese, he leveraged their ability to carry supplies and equipment over long distances in highly restrictive terrain. In effect, it was a race of logistics between the two belligerents. The Japanese had extended exterior

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lines reaching all the way back to Saigon, while the Allies had interior lines but required major infrastructure improvements. The Fourteenth Army surged in their efforts, knowing logistics would be vital for any chance of success against the Japanese. Within months, stockpiles of supplies were plentiful enough to support major operations into Burma.

Slim assessed his second greatest problem to be the health of his Soldiers. One hundred and twenty

Soldiers were evacuated sick for every man evacuated with wounds. Some units were depleted by 80 percent due to disease. The prevention of tropical diseases could make a difference in the ability to fight. It was mostly malaria, but dysentery, typhus, and skin diseases were also crippling his force, and he had to radically improve health conditions. Slim held his commanders’ accountable for their men’s sanitary discipline and conditions, including the enforcement of taking the bitter-tasting quinine. Contacting leading professors of commonwealth medical schools, Slim took their advice to establish malaria forward treatment units and surgical teams rather than evacuating Soldiers hundreds of miles to the rear. For those Soldiers still requiring evacuation to better medical facilities, Slim built dirt runways quickly in the jungle near each major unit.

All the supplies and medical support in the world would not guarantee success against the Japanese.

Slim knew that supply and health challenges were systems that can be physically improved, but morale is different. It is a state of mind. Slim’s goal was to “raise the fighting spirit of the Army.” To do this, he had to convince his multi-cultural Army that Japan must be defeated. In his rakish Gurka hat and casual demeanor, Slim had to urgently convey a sense of purpose to his Soldiers, no matter where they were from. He chose to take an affiliative approach by making each Soldier feel they were part of something greater than himself. Slim felt the foundations of morale were the spiritual, intellectual, and material, in that order.

For the spiritual, there must be a great and noble object, and its achievement must be vital. It is a firm

belief in a cause. The method of the achievement must be active and aggressive, and each soldier must feel that what he is and what he does matters directly toward the attainment of the object. From an intellectual foundation, each soldier must be convinced that the objective can be obtained, that it is not out of reach. He must also feel that the unit he is part of is efficient and the leaders value their soldiers’ lives. From a material foundation, each soldier must know that his leaders are striving to acquire the best weapons and materials to accomplish the mission, and living and working conditions be made as good as possible. What he found in some of the rest and reinforcement camps depressed him. In Slim’s words:

Decaying tents or dilapidated bashas, with earth floors, mosquito ridden and lacking all amenities, were

the usual accommodation; training and recreation were alike unorganized; men were crowded together from all units. No wonder spirits sank, discipline sagged, and defeatist rumors spread. Worse of all, the commandants and staffs, with a few notable exceptions, were officers and NCOs who were not wanted by units or who preferred the rear to the front.

Slim would find an officer with energy, experience, and organizing ability and put him in charge. He

replaced underperforming commanders with others who he asked division commanders to personally select. He personally selected his division commanders, and he knew they were committed to beating the Japanese. He was quickly building his team, and he knew he had to have subordinate commanders he could trust. However, he also had to earn trust from his subordinate commanders, and relying strictly on his position and rank would not be sufficient in such a diverse multi-national Army. He met regularly with his commanders, forging consensus through participation. Handling relationships was not always easy, as Stilwell was one not to be easily controlled. Still, Slim never lost his composure. He was always willing to listen, yet firm and decisive while implementing his vision.

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Slim wore a Gurkha hat for a reason. Prior to WWII, he served with the Gurkhas in the Indian Army for years, developing a deep regard for not only his Gurkha Soldiers but also Indian culture in general. He earned respect and loyalty from his Gurkhas, and he always had a place in his heart for them. It was a mutual respect that would last a lifetime. Something more than the Gurkha hat mattered now; it was the Fourteenth Army patch on his shoulder. He desperately needed commitment from his entire force. Commitment from not only his British, Commonwealth, and Gurkha Soldiers, but also with Indian, African, Chinese, Nepalese and American Soldiers. Although Slim was initially not an expert on the cultures and motivations of all his forces, he made a remarkable endeavor to study each one. In part, he did this by first speaking to their commanders. He learned what each culture valued, and their perspective on the current situation. For example, for his Gurkhas, he knew the weight they put on their warrior ethos and personal pride. For the Indians, he knew the importance of how they felt about protecting their way of life according to their faith and family ties. After all, the Japanese were on their doorstep. For the New Zealanders, Australians, and British, it was an opportunity to appeal to their nationalistic pride by illustrating the possibility it might be the last chance to turn back years of disaster and embarrassment. For the Africans, it was much more difficult because of the number of countries from both the west (Nigeria, Gold Coast, Gambia, Sierra Leone) and east side of the continent (Kenya, Uganda, Nyasaland, Tanganyika, and Northern Rhodesia), the hugely diverse cultures, and a wide range of religions. But like the Gurkas, most shared a similar warrior ethos and pride in their war fighting abilities. Still, Slim had to be cognizant of each country and their aligned cultures. It was necessary to respect their artifacts and practices, and understand their attitudes and expectations. In the end, Slim knew he had to use his interpersonal skills to appeal to each one at a time by using a shared value. It would be a major undertaking to unite his forces, and time was against him.

Slim made a tremendous effort to visit every battalion in the Army, travelling vast distances to meet

face-to-face with his Soldiers. He was not the eloquent type. Neither mass formations nor loud emotional boasting would occur. Slim simply spoke to his Soldiers about his greater vision, a vision of driving evil from the world. “If ever an Army fought in a just cause, we did,” Slim wrote in his book Defeat Into Victory. “We fought for the clean, the decent, the free things of life, we fought only because the power of evil had attacked these things.” It was a heartfelt and convincing cause. Most of all it was a common cause. The Allies knew all too well the brutal methods of the Japanese, and further occupation by Japanese forces meant further cruelty and even death to many innocents. He reminded his Soldiers what the Japanese had done to innocents in occupied territories, such as Nanking, Singapore and Manila. In this, he wanted every Soldier to internalize his role in the conquest to beat the Japanese. Again, in Slim’s words:

We played on this very human desire of every man to feel himself and his work important, until one of the most striking things about our Army was the way the administrative, labour, and non-combat units acquired a morale which rivaled that of the fighting formations. They felt they shared directly in the triumphs of the Fourteenth Army and that its success and its honour were in their hands as much as anybody’s.

Slim knew most of the languages of his men (except the Africans) since he spent many years in that

part of the world, he often conversed with them in their own language. He wanted to re-establish dignity and hope in his men, and to do this meant improving living conditions and gaining confidence in their ability to fight better than the Japanese Soldier.

Once living and health conditions improved, Slim established infantry training schools throughout

eastern India. Although the coordination and synchronization of combined arms was the focus of the training schools, Slim knew the psychological dimension of close combat in the jungle against the Japanese

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was terrifying. To overcome this dimension, units trained and lived for weeks on end in the jungle. The training was tough, realistic and extremely demanding, pushing each man beyond his normal scope of endurance. They learned the sounds, smells and survival methods of the jungle. Many of the tactical lessons they learned were actually from the Japanese, including cover and concealment, surprise attacks during day and night, off-road mobility, and how to outflank , encircle and destroy the enemy. Once trained, patrols would cross into Burma to surprise and destroy Japanese outposts, gaining valuable experience and confidence. In February 1944, Slim would send his newly trained troops on a limited incursion into northern Arakan, the same area in Burma that proved so costly in May of 1943. Although small in comparison to previous or future battles, the second battle of Arakan was the first Allied success in Burma. The overzealous and overconfident Japanese repeatedly pounced on the two Indian Divisions, only to be repulsed by the well-trained and air-supplied Indians. To Slim, it was as much an assessment of how the Japanese would fight as his own troop’s readiness. Understanding the Enemy

Slim assessed and understood the three Japanese Armies (33rd, 28th, 15th) inside Burma. He posted all the pictures of the senior Japanese officers above his desk and studied their personalities incessantly. Of all the Japanese commanders, he mostly studied the 15th Army commander, Lieutenant-General Mutaguchi. Mutaguchi was the victorious commander of the Singapore campaign in 1942, gaining immense acclaim and respect from his superiors. Mutaguchi’s Army was the strongest of the three Japanese armies, and defeat of the 15th meant defeat of the Japanese in Burma. The 15th was even larger than Slim’s Fourteenth Army, but still lacked an effective supply system due to extended lines through restrictive terrain. Mutaguchi was pretentious and assumed he could always capture British supplies to continue his advance, just as he had done since Singapore. Now Mutaguchi envisioned a final campaign into India, one that would result in the fall of the British Empire in Asia. Mutaguchi was a militarist zealot, an ardent follower of the Japanese Bushido code. Above all, he was a glory seeker, and the lives of his Soldiers were secondary to the importance of his personal fame. He was abusive to his subordinate commanders, and they feared and loathed him. Presenting Mutaguchi with bad news would guarantee a tirade of abuse and public humiliation. He viewed the Fourteenth Army as racially inferior and incapable of outfighting the Japanese. He failed to grasp the changes Slim made in the Fourteenth Army, and viewed any setback as a personal failure by one of his subordinates rather than a possible improvement by the Allies. Overconfident and always desiring the offense, Mutaguchi was known to push his troops beyond their limit. He consistently took huge risks, stretching his lines of communication to the breaking point and relying on the capture of British supply depots to continue his offensives. Too much glory and opportunity awaited Mutaguchi to stop now.

Slim assumed Mutaguchi would not think twice about wasting the lives of his men to gain more acclaim

for himself. He had done so countless times before, driving his men using banzai attacks until the enemy would break or be encircled. This time it was for total victory, as India would be Mutaguchi’s final prize. Although outnumbered, Slim somehow had to turn Mutaguchi’s aggressive attacks into a weakness to exploit. Slim would use the fanaticism of the Japanese commander against himself. He knew Mutaguchi would brazenly attack to seize Fourteenth Army supplies in eastern India to sustain his advance into the heart of India. Even Tokyo Rose was blasting the airwaves about the impending Japanese attack into India. Instead of attacking into the strength of the Japanese, Slim would set the trap and wait for the Japanese onslaught.

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Defeat into Victory

In the spring of 1944, Mutaguchi made good on his intentions to attack into eastern India. This time, instead of the encircled force fighting a breakout and withdrawal, Slim would have a second echelon prepared to strike the Japanese. The second echelon, unknown to the Japanese, could reinforce battle positions or attack the Japanese rear if they encircled Allied defensive positions.

At the same time 12,000 “Chindit” commandos initially under British Major General Orde Wingate

(Wingate would die in an aircraft accident on 24 March 1944), would infiltrate by ground and air to cut the over-extended Japanese supply lines through Burma, forcing the Japanese to wither on the vine. Before assuming command of the Chindits, Wingate lived a checkered past. Wingate’s temper was legendary, like Stilwell, and he endlessly quarreled with his superiors. Unlike Stilwell, he did not get away with his outbursts, and his bad behavior would usually be his undoing. However, he was remarkably skilled in guerrilla operations, and his success in uniting the Abyssinians against the Italians was noteworthy. Although noteworthy, his accomplishments were negated by his vulgarity to his superiors. After his success sin Abyssinia, Lt. Col. Wingate was fired, demoted to major and sent back to England. He then spiraled into deep depression and attempted suicide by cutting his own throat, only to be saved by an attentive nurse who happened to be close by. While recuperating, he was given a chance to redeem himself in Slim’s Fourteenth Army.

After the Japanese captured Burma, Fourteenth Army needed officers badly. Churchill dispatched

Wingate to India to raise a guerrilla force, with the mission to infiltrate Burma to hinder Japanese operations. Wingate jumped at the opportunity, and once in India he took whatever men he could get, which were usually outcasts from the British and Gurkha ranks. This did not deter Wingate, as he flourished in his element with a fresh force and a new mission. He educated and trained his men incessantly in guerrilla warfare, and he inspired them with his ability to make them feel they were a special class of warriors. Sporting a beard and devoid of rank, Wingate led from the front, earning trust and respect from his men as they conducted successful long-range operations in Japanese rear areas. Wingate had his confidence back, rapidly rising in rank to major general and feeling his force alone could accomplish a decisive victory in Burma. In fact, Wingate considered his special force and the tactics they used to be the fundamental method to defeat Imperial Japan inside Burma, believing the destruction of their lines of supply and command and control abilities would eventually force them to withdraw.

Except for Wavell, Slim was the only senior officer in Southeast Asia to believe in Wingate’s abilities

as a commander. Slim looked beyond Wingate’s eccentricities and understood the value of special operations conducted in the Japanese lines of communication. Slim took note of the respect the Chindits had for their commander, along with their sacrifices and unwavering loyalty to their mission. The two commanders built a professional and personal bond that would not only serve the coalition but the advancement of special operations in the future. Although not a believer in all of Wingate’s bold assertions that special operations was the deciding factor, Slim gave Wingate the resources he needed. In reality, Slim’s entire plan hinged on the Fourteenth Army in India holding decisive terrain at Imphal and Kohima. If the Japanese penetrated at these critical junctions, it would be the final defeat for the Allies in Southeast Asia. The Chindit brigades, which would be deep inside Burma, would be doomed because they could not survive without aerial resupply. For the Japanese, penetration meant the road to Delhi would be unimpeded and British supplies plentiful for Mutaguchi’s advancing forces.

If successful at Imphal and Kohima, Slim knew the Fourteenth Army could seize the initiative and

aggressively pursue Mutaguchi back through Burma, destroying the Japanese war machine as they fell back on their own lines of communication. Wingate’s Chindits would be cutting these lines and the Japanese

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would be unable to conduct an orderly delaying action. Slim envisioned forging ahead through the jungle, catching retreating Japanese units along the way while still maintaining tempo. Once breaking out into the central plains of Burma, Slim would use combined arms to destroy the Japanese 15th Army, and if necessary drive it all the way through Burma and into the sea. This overland attack was code-named OPERATION CAPITAL, and it was Slim’s brainchild. Slim’s subordinates certainly had buy-in, but Mountbatten had been against it. He had his own vision for the Fourteenth Army: to attack Burma from the sea. In love with the sea and all matters naval, his personal ambition was to someday be First Sea Lord. He had tried an amphibious assault before at Dieppe, only to have the Canadian landing force decimated by the Luftwaffe and German coastal batteries. This would be his reprieve from that tragedy, and Slim’s overland vision was put on hold. Mountbatten tried his best to get the resources he needed, but luckily for Slim the amphibious assault assets were being tied up for the Normandy landings. In the end, Slim got his way with CAPITAL.

As Slim predicted, the Japanese attacked in strength by assaulting the Allies head-on and trying to

encircle their defensive positions. Slim committed second echelon forces to reinforce his defensive positions or counterattack the Japanese. In desperation, the Japanese resorted to suicidal banzai attacks. It was a long hard fight, but the Fourteenth Army held at Imphal and Kohima, and when it was all over, the Japanese sustained 53,500 casualties. The Allies destroyed five Japanese divisions, and severely damaged other units. The fanatical Japanese had been relentless. Only 650 were taken prisoner, and most of these because they were so badly injured they could not resist. Although suffering 17,000 casualties the Allies were exuberant. The Japanese Army suffered the greatest defeat in its history.

At last, the turning point arrived and every man in Fourteenth Army, no matter where they were from,

knew it. The battles in Arakan and eastern India shattered the myth of Japanese invincibility. The risk Slim took in allowing Mutaguchi’s forces to attack into eastern India paid off. Slim knew he had the initiative, but he also knew he could lose it if he did not quickly capitalize on the opportunity to retake Burma. Slim faced a dilemma: time was of the essence but he did not want to launch an unsynchronized, major offensive before his Army was fully prepared. To complicate matters, the monsoon season was beginning and it was widely believed by Allied commanders that offensive operations would be impossible through the horrendous mud and across swollen rivers. Slim was undeterred. He was determined to relentlessly track and destroy Mutaguchi’s retreating forces. Resilient to the horrendous conditions men, mules, and elephants pursued the retreating Japanese through the drenching rain and quagmire. The Allies were soaked to the bone and miserable, but at least they were well supplied by aerial drops. The Japanese were not so fortunate. The trails were strewn with Japanese equipment and dead.

By December, the Fourteenth Army had made it through the jungles, over the mountains, and into the

central plains of Burma. Now Slim could effectively employ his combined arms strategy using artillery, tanks and air support to complete the annihilation of the Japanese in Burma. Slim knew the initiative of his subordinate commanders would make the difference between victory or defeat. Practicing what is today known as “mission command,” he believed that if every subordinate commander knew his operational plan and intent, they would determine the best tactical plan for success. This was especially true for Wingate’s Chindits, whose 12,000 commandos wreaked havoc along the Japanese supply lines and rear areas.

The Japanese also began making sweeping changes, but it was too late. In an unprecedented move,

Mutaguchi was relieved of his command and Lieutenant General Kimura Heitar took command of a battered yet potent Japanese force. It would not matter. Without any combat experience and totally unprepared for Slim’s powerful Fourteenth Army, Kimura retreated all the way to Rangoon by the spring of 1945. He surrendered his entire force to Slim that summer. OPERATION CAPITAL was a complete success, both in terms of tactical and operational objectives. The Japanese Imperial Empire would never be the same. In typical Slim style: “To the Soldiers of many races who, in the comradeship of the Fourteenth Army, did go

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on, and to the airmen who flew with them and fought over them, belongs the true glory of achievement. It was they who turned Defeat into Victory.”

Courtesy of the United States Military Academy Department of History.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading B Chapter 1 of TO-TR-HFM-120

Authors: Brian McKee, Angela R. Febbraro, and Sharon L. Riedel

1.1 RESEARCH TASK GROUP STRUCTURE AND COMPOSITION Since 1990, there has been a significant increase in the number of military operations that have required

North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) nations to contribute forces as part of a multinational coalition or alliance. Moreover, the range of mission types has broadened to include peacekeeping, peace support, and humanitarian operations. This trend is expected to continue. There is evidence to suggest that subtle differences in the organizational and national cultures of the countries that contribute personnel to missions can have an impact on the overall operational effectiveness of the multinational force. There exists, therefore, a requirement to consider and integrate the intercultural issues and factors that surround and influence multinational military collaboration, particularly at the operational level of command.

Owing to the complex nature of this research area, it was seen as highly desirable that a multinational

perspective be developed regarding the most important topics for investigation. Thus, in the autumn of 2003, the NATO Human Factors and Medicine (HFM) Research Task Group (RTG) on Multinational Military Operations and Intercultural Factors (RTG-120) was formed. RTG-120 consisted of representatives from a variety of NATO countries including the United Kingdom (UK), Canada, the United States (US), the Netherlands, Slovakia, Germany, and France. Over the course of its 3-year mandate, the RTG-120 held meetings hosted by contributing nations in Toulon, France; Strausberg, Germany; Fort Leavenworth, the US; Kösice, Slovakia; and Ottawa and Montreal, Canada. The membership of the group comprised of specialists in the field of team studies, military command and control, military training and selection, and cross-cultural and social psychology. Participants included researchers from Defence Science and Technology Laboratory (Dstl) and QinetiQ in the UK; the Army Research Institute and the Naval Underwater Warfare Center in the US; Defence Research & Development Canada (DRDC) – Toronto, DRDC Centre for Operational Research and Analysis, and the Canadian Forces Leadership Institute in Canada; TNO Human Factors in the Netherlands; the Bundeswehr in Germany; and the Department of Aviation Medicine in Slovakia.

The original proposal for RTG-120 stressed that it was important that a cross-national and cross-cultural

forum be developed in order to fully utilize individual nations’ current understandings of the issue of multinationality in military operations. It further specified that with the growing number of nations within NATO and the interaction with Partnership for Peace (PfP) nations, the collective knowledge base and guidance within such a forum could only serve to strengthen current NATO understanding of and preparation for future operations. It was intended that the work of the group would allow nations to build on the findings and recommendations from the final report and develop complimentary research programmes to ensure an improved appreciation of the problem area and contribute to appropriate intervention strategies.

Although the initial intention of RTG-120 was to develop a comprehensive review of the literature in

this area, this was found to be an impossible task, given the recent accelerated rate of growth of work

Go to Table of Contents

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undertaken on this issue. Thus the present report is not meant to be comprehensive and exhaustive, but rather its aim is to highlight and raise the profile of intercultural factors, and to help drive forward developments in this area. The primary objective of this report is to increase awareness and understanding of the impact of intercultural factors on multinational military operations in the following areas: organizational factors, leadership and command, teams, pre-dispositional and psychosocial factors, communication, technology, and societal cultural trends. The work of the RTG on these substantive areas comprises the content of this report. It is hoped that the theoretical and applied knowledge generated by the contributing nations of RTG-120 on these topics (or reviewed in this report) will further an understanding of diversity in the areas of human culture, organizations and technologies of relevance to multinational military operations, and ultimately contribute to the effectiveness of their collaborations.

1.2 BACKGROUND

As stated earlier, most NATO nations have been responding increasingly to international crises and

conflicts in the post-Cold War period through support for multinational operations. An example of this can be observed in Figure 1.1, which illustrates the Canadian commitment in the last part of the 20th century. As can be seen, over an approximately 25-year period, Canada committed to more operations, more frequently, as time passed. Furthermore, almost all of these Canadian Forces (CF) operations were multinational coalitions.

The increase in multinational missions has led to the identification of a number of potential areas of

conflict or stress between collaborating countries that stem from inter-group relations and dynamics, which themselves emanate from differences in culture, language, 1 religion, class and gender customs, work ethics, military values, political systems, levels of expertise, and standards of living, to name a few (Plante, 1998). Bowman (1997) identified “ten points of friction” that have historically affected coalitions: differences in goals, logistics, capabilities, training, equipment, doctrines, intelligence, language, leadership, and cultural practices (see also Stewart, Bonner, & Verrall, 2001). Further, although differences in language, terminology, military doctrine, equipment, capabilities, and command organization may all have been present in previous coalition operations, they may be exacerbated by the level of interaction among units and limited preparation time available to most coalitions today (Marshall, Kaiser, & Kessmeier, 1997).

In the present post-Cold War global context conflicts are more likely to be the result of internal state

disintegration (“failed states”) or civil war than the result of interstate conflicts, as has been true in the past (Winslow, Kammhuber, & Soeters, 2004). As threats to international peace increase, military forces may find themselves challenged by more diverse, complex environments than ever before, environments which include many other actors such as representatives of the United Nations (UN), the media, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). Often they must face these challenges in a foreign cultural

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environment. Such conditions demand a high degree of intercultural competence in dealing with the ethnic cultural and linguistic diversity of the local population, the cultures of other militaries, and the cultures of other international organizations (Winslow et al., 2004). In addition to military operations, multinational forces are often used during operations other than war, a class of mission that has grown over the post-Cold War era. Such operations include goals as diverse as deterring hostile actions, combating terrorism, and providing relief from natural disasters. These missions, like other military operations, are undertaken by coalitions from diverse national cultures but also involve NGOs and private voluntary organizations.

Such a change in global context demands new understandings of interoperability, or “the ability of

systems, units or forces to provide services to and accept services from other systems, units and forces and to use these services so exchanged to enable them to operate effectively together” (Blad & Potts, 2004, p. 149). The traditional NATO understanding of interoperability, for example, has been largely based on technical issues such as common message formats and data presentation protocols (Blad & Potts, 2004). However, such an understanding is unsuited to post-Cold War multinational operations. An emerging US concept, which describes the richer conceptual depth of the interoperability needed, is “co-operability” (Blad & Potts, 2004). This term describes the shared understanding that cognitive and doctrinal interoperability can provide. In the UK, this is termed “interoperability of the mind;” a similar German concept is “einheit im denken,” which means literally “unity in thought” (Blad & Potts, 2004). This term implies a depth of common military education and training to produce officers who approach problems in the same way with confidence and mutual understanding based on shared military education and values (Blad & Potts, 2004). Although an understanding of interoperability that takes into account dimensions such as doctrine, command and control, rules of engagement, standardized operating procedures, training and logistics (the so-called “hard” dimensions of interoperability) appropriately goes beyond technical issues, it still neglects the so-called “soft” dimensions of interoperability, such as language, ethics, and social beliefs, that pertain more to culture (McFate, 2005). Indeed, Winslow and Everts (2001) argue that it is not only system interoperability but operational and particularly “cultural interoperability”– the shared way by which multinational military coalitions or alliances “do business” – that contributes to mission success. Similarly, cultural differences (e.g., in beliefs about information sharing) may affect the ability to advance from technical interoperability to “intercooperability,” and may reduce the ability of different elements within a coalition to achieve “intercooperation” (Handley, Levis, & Bares, 2001).

1.3 DEFINING CULTURE

As the previous discussion shows, the focus of this report centers on issues arising from the interaction

of groups of people from different cultural backgrounds. It would therefore be useful to begin by first briefly defining the concept of culture.

Throughout the past century, many definitions of culture have been developed. One of the most

frequently cited conceptualizations of culture is by Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck (1961), who state that culture consists of patterned ways of thinking, feeling and reacting. Schweder (1991) suggests a set of shared meaning systems, and Goodenough (1971) proposes a set of standards for perceiving, believing, evaluating, communicating and acting. Parsons (1951) explains culture as patterned systems of symbols that direct the orientation of action, and Schein (1985) defines culture as a pattern of basic assumptions with which problems can be coped. Trompenaars and Turner (1993) state that culture is the way in which a group of 980, 1991) defines culture as the collective programming of the mind that distinguishes the members of one group (nation) from another (nation).

Simply put, culture describes the learned patterns of behavior and thought that help a group adapt to its

surroundings. As such culture operates at many different levels and reveals itself in the beliefs, attitudes

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and behaviors of groups of people. At a societal or group level, culture is important in helping to explain distinctness between groups of people. At a very general level, culture unifies groups of people and distinguishes them from others. Culture constitutes the vehicle for the perpetuation of identity and for the mitigation, synthesis, and rationalization of change. The fact that culture is such an all-inclusive, multifaceted concept means that it serves many varied functions, among them marking off a group and so including some and excluding others. 1.3.1 Organizational Culture

This report focuses specifically on interactions of organizations across nations and so it would prove

informative also to discuss the notion of organizational culture and national culture. Traditionally the term culture has been used by anthropologists and sociologists in the analysis of social and national groupings. However, the utility of the concept in explaining and understanding organizational dynamics and differences has led increasingly to its adoption by business developers, analysts, and human resource professionals. Below, for instance, is a definition of organizational culture proposed by Schein (1984): Organizational Culture is the pattern of basic assumptions that a given group has invented, discovered or developed in learning to cope with its problems of external adaptation and internal integration and that have worked well enough to be considered valid and therefore to be taught to new members as the correct way to perceive, think, and feel in relation to those problems. (Schein, 1984, p. 4)

Organizational culture should not be viewed as a static, never changing concept. In any given situation, actors may employ different aspects or components of the culture, manifesting the same culture in different ways in different situations. Furthermore, as the society and the economy in which the organization operates change over time, so too do the constituent institutions. Often such changes are imperceptible to the actors involved; however changes can also be dramatic and sudden, especially where an organization has resisted such changes in the past.

Culture has an historical and tested aspect; it has allowed and allows an organization to effectively meet

its needs and the challenges that it faces. It involves more than simply structures but includes ways of thinking and acting. It is incorporated into a socialization process for new members to ensure its continuation, and it marks the organization from others. Culture then is a complex whole that goes beyond what can be observed in the hallways of the organizational headquarters. It is more than the logo, the mission, or the chain of command, although these are all part of the culture and are visible cues of organizational culture. As Hagberg and Heifetz point out, “the culture of an organization operates at both a conscious and subconscious level” (2000, p. 2). Organizational culture is a complex phenomenon that includes symbols and symbolism, relationships, behaviors, and values (Alvesson, 2002).

Organizational culture permeates the host institution and operates at many different levels, from the

highly visible to the collective unconscious. Schein identifies, for the purpose of analysis, three levels of organizational culture: artifacts and creations, values, and basic underlying assumptions (1985, p. 15).

These levels of culture allow us to build up a series of layers of analysis, as can be seen in Figure 1.2.

In much the same way as an archeologist must dig through layers of sediment to uncover older finds, so too the researcher and planner must dig deeper and deeper within the organization to uncover core components of the culture.

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The most visible manifestations of organizational culture are the artefacts and creations, which include

“the constructed environment of the organization, its architecture, technology, office layout, manner of dress, visible or audible behavior patterns and public documents such as charters, employee orientation, materials and stories” (Schein, 1984, p. 4). Identifying these attributes of the organizational culture involves, among other things, analysis of corporate documentation and organization charts, as well as observation of architectural features, employee dress, language, and behavior.

Much less obvious are the values of the organization or the next layer of culture. For Schein, the

reference to values is intended to include only espoused values, “what ought to be, as distinct from what is” (1985, p. 15). Others have modified this concept to include actual values, which are seen as having a more direct influence on steering or guiding behavior (Sathe & Davidson, 2000). These values offer rationalization and justification for action and although normally invisible to the actors involved, they can be identified and articulated.

The most abstract layer of culture identified by Schein (1985) involves the basic underlying

assumptions. Values derived from actions taken in the past that have allowed the organization to persist become givens. They “sink below the conscious level of culture and become taken-for-granted assumptions that organizational members use to guide their behaviors and attitudes” (Sathe & Davidson, 2000, p. 280). Identification of these elements of the culture requires much more sophisticated and probing analyses of the organization. It might further be argued that this cultural layer is the foundation for all others. For this reason, it is frequently the hardest to identify, and the most resistant to change.

For Rutherford (2001), much of the focus of the literature on organizational culture emphasizes its role

as a tool for inclusion. Attention is paid to the cohesive aspects of culture “as a defence against the unknown and a means of providing stability” (Rutherford, 2001, p. 372). These elements of culture provide parameters around the institution that allow people to operate effectively and comfortably within the system, socialize or regulate the absorption of new members, and maintain an identity over time. The other face of this aspect of culture, often ignored, is that it can function to exclude. At times the same processes and cultural elements may be brought to bear to either include or exclude others. Culture then is dynamic and situationally dependent, allowing for opposing roles of unification and differentiation. The most visible manifestations of organizational culture are the artefacts and creations, which include “the constructed environment of the organization, its architecture, technology, office layout, manner of dress, visible or audible behavior patterns and public documents such as charters, employee orientation, materials and stories” (Schein, 1984, p. 4). Identifying these attributes of the organizational culture involves, among other things, analysis of corporate documentation and organization charts, as well as observation of architectural features, employee dress, language, and behavior.

Much less obvious are the values of the organization or the next layer of culture. For Schein, the

reference to values is intended to include only espoused values, “what ought to be, as distinct from what

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is” (1985, p. 15). Others have modified this concept to include actual values, which are seen as having a more direct influence on steering or guiding behavior (Sathe & Davidson, 2000). These values offer rationalization and justification for action and although normally invisible to the actors involved, they can be identified and articulated.

The most abstract layer of culture identified by Schein (1985) involves the basic underlying

assumptions. Values derived from actions taken in the past that have allowed the organization to persist become givens. They “sink below the conscious level of culture and become taken-for-granted assumptions that organizational members use to guide their behaviors and attitudes” (Sathe & Davidson, 2000, p. 280). Identification of these elements of the culture requires much more sophisticated and probing analyses of the organization. It might further be argued that this cultural layer is the foundation for all others. For this reason, it is frequently the hardest to identify, and the most resistant to change.

For Rutherford (2001), much of the focus of the literature on organizational culture emphasizes its role

as a tool for inclusion. Attention is paid to the cohesive aspects of culture “as a defence against the unknown and a means of providing stability” (Rutherford, 2001, p. 372). These elements of culture provide parameters around the institution that allow people to operate effectively and comfortably within the system, socialize or regulate the absorption of new members, and maintain an identity over time. The other face of this aspect of culture, often ignored, is that it can function to exclude. At times the same processes and cultural elements may be brought to bear to either include or exclude others. Culture then is dynamic and situationally dependent, allowing for opposing roles of unification and differentiation. Trompenaars and Turner (1993) developed the QinetiQ model of organizational culture (Bradley, Mylle, Strickland, Walker, & Wooddisse, 2002). The model provides another conceptual framework to understand organizational culture, which again is made up of three layers (see Figure 1.3).

Layer One – Artifacts and Practices. This is the observable behavior and tangibles of an organization. This includes such things as groupings, hierarchy, and uniform. Processes and procedures can be thought of as Layer One. Essentially, the surface layer is easily changed and easily adapted by the people in the organization. It represents the explicit culture.

Layer Two – Attitudes and Expectations. These are the attitudes and expectations that make individuals

feel that Layer One is right. It is more conceptual than tangible, and consists of doctrine, customs, and traditional practices. It represents those truths held by the organization, which resist change but which can be adapted in time.

Layer Three – Deep Structure. This is the source and structure from where attitudes and expectations

are generated. It is difficult to attribute specifics to this layer, but it may consist of such things as the relationship between command and subordination. Essentially, this inner layer represents basic assumptions that have underpinned the culture of military forces for centuries. This is the layer of implicit culture.

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The value of this model as suggested by its proponent is that it provides insight into the management of change. Changing Layer One is relatively easy as long as Layer Two and Layer Three remain unchanged. Changing Layer Two is very difficult and takes time and firm leadership. Changing Layer Three will be very difficult but not impossible. In some cases a change to Layer One may, on the face of it, be very sensible or insignificant, yet may affect a much deeper cultural instinct or value. 1.3.2 National Culture

In the 1980s, Geert Hofstede made a comprehensive attempt to capture national value and cultural

differences through a cross-cultural classification scheme of work-related values in organizations. Despite criticism, his five-factor model of culture value dimensions remains the most robust and influential model on culture. Initially, Hofstede (1980) identified four cultural value dimensions. Later work with the Chinese Culture Connection added a fifth dimension based on a study of Asian cultures, a region largely excluded from Hofstede’s earlier work (1991). These five dimensions are elaborated below and figure prominently throughout this report:

Power distance is the degree of inequality among people that the populace of a country considers normal. Uncertainty avoidance is the degree to which people in a country prefer structured over unstructured situations. Structured situations are those in which there are clear rules as to how one should behave. Masculinity-femininity is the degree to which values like assertiveness, performance, success, and competition (which in nearly all societies are more associated with the role of men) prevail over values like the quality of life, maintaining warm personal relationships, service, care for the weak, and solidarity (which in nearly all societies are more associated with the role of women). Individualism-collectivism describes whether one’s identity is defined by personal choices and achievements or by the character of the collective group to which one is more or less permanently attached. Long-term vs. short-term orientation is based on the values stressed in the teachings of Confucius. Long-term orientation focuses on the degree to which a culture embraces, or does not embrace, future-oriented values, such as perseverance and thrift. 1.3.3 Hofstede’s Dimensions and Military Culture

One important contribution of these five dimensions is that they afford an opportunity to test specific

hypotheses about cultural differences that influence such things as organizational and team effectiveness. Soeters (1997) conducted a study applying these cultural dimensions to the military. He used samples of cadet-officers of military academies in 18 countries as respondents (see also Soeters & Recht, 2001). To demonstrate the relevance of Hofstede’s work more clearly, Soeters connected the four original dimensions (long-term orientation was not included in this study) to the well-known institutional occupational model (Moskos & Wood, 1988).

Moskos and Wood (1988) examined the attitudes of soldiers toward their work in the military. On one

hand, attitudes may be institutional reflecting a vocational (i.e., professional) orientation, exemplified by patriotism and a total dedication to the military organization. On the other hand, attitudes may be occupational reflecting an attitude toward working in the military as just another job (Moskos & Wood, 1988). This latter attitude implies that military personnel are not solely focused on the internal labor market of the military. Soeters (1997) found that high degrees of individualism, indicating that the cadets feel fairly independent of the organization, and masculinity, reflecting the wish to earn high salaries, are indicators of occupationalism.

The other two cultural dimensions, power distance and uncertainty avoidance, were found to be

indicators of certain types of organization: high degrees of power distance and uncertainty avoidance were

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seen as manifestations of the classic “machine” bureaucracy, or hierarchical, formal rules-based organizations. Low degrees of these cultural dimensions were indicative of more modern flexible results- oriented organizations.

Soeters’ study of military academies showed that, compared to their compatriots in the civilian sector,

the cadet-officers in general yielded higher scores on power distance and lower scores on individualism and masculinity. These results confirm common notions about differences between civilian and military workers and organizations. In the military, hierarchies and power distances are known to be more elaborated and fundamental to the structure of the organization than they are in the business sector. Also, in the military, collectivism (i.e., group orientation, interdependency and cohesion) is a more important concept than it is among typical civilian organizations. Finally, in the military earning high salaries and striving for individual merit is not valued as much as it is in business corporations. The dimension of uncertainty avoidance (rule orientation, formalization, the wish to continue to work for the military) showed mixed results: some academies, such as those in Germany, Italy, Denmark, the UK, and especially the US, exhibited higher degrees of this dimension, which had been expected, but there were also a number of academies (the Netherlands, Canada and Norway) that scored lower on this particular dimension (Soeters, 1997).

By and large, the results were consistent with common knowledge about cultural differences between

the civilian and the military sectors. These results clearly demonstrate that in the military – contrasted to civilian organizations – something like a supranational culture exists. This supranational military culture is more collectivistic, more hierarchical and less salary-driven than the average civilian working culture. The consequence of this is that military personnel of different origins can often function and get along with each other without too many problems (e.g., Elron, Shamir, & Ben-Ari, 1999). Moskos (1976, 2001) even claims that military personnel from different countries seem to be better suited to work together than they are with civilian personnel from NGOs or local agencies from their own countries.

Page (2003) undertook a similar study applying Hofstede’s cultural dimensions to samples of military

personnel. These career officers (or officer-equivalent personnel) at the time of the study were mostly attending international courses or conferences in Europe. Included were a number of NATO countries (Belgium, the Netherlands, Canada, Germany, Norway, the UK, and the US) as well as a number of PfP countries (Georgia, Romania, Slovakia, and Slovenia). The results from this study largely confirmed the earlier academy findings of Soeters and Recht (Page, 2003). There was one clear exception. Page found that German career officers displayed higher levels of power distance and masculinity when compared to the German student-officers in the Soeters (1997) study. As was found in the Soeters study, the US military proved to be high on masculinity and uncertainty avoidance. As to long-term orientation, which was not measured by Soeters, no significant differences were found in long-term orientation between countries or between military and civilian organizations. 1.3.4 Military Culture

As can be seen from the preceding discussion, the organizations involved in this study are somewhat

different from most other public and private enterprises. Thus, in addition to understanding national and organizational culture, an existing body of literature analyzing military organizational culture needs to be briefly examined. This will allow readers some insights into the importance and relevance of culture in military operations.

Military organizations are unlike any other public or private institution. While sharing the same

fundamental cultural influences as other organizations within a given country, they view themselves, and

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more importantly, are viewed by many others, as very different. As Soeters points out; “uniformed organizations are peculiar. They represent specific occupational cultures that are relatively isolated from society” (2004, p. 465). The very nature of the principal mission for which militaries are intended also sets them apart from other public or private institutions within a society. As Snider puts it, “Military cultures derive from the purpose or tasks for which society raises militaries” (1999, p. 5). At the same time, military cultures also reflect the cultures of the broader societies in which they exist.

While it could also be said that all organizational cultures derive from their purpose, military institutions

remain alone in their primary purpose, seen by Snider as warfighting, which he argues “still determines the central beliefs, values and complex symbolic formations that define military culture” (1999, p. 5). Rather than engage in a debate over the appropriateness of this function as the central element in the military mission, suffice to say that warfighting can be viewed as a critical, and historically important, military purpose. However, given the changing nature of security it might be more appropriate to define warfighting as upholding or securing peace and security by the use of arms.

Although modern militaries are involved in a range of activities or operations other than war, a more

encompassing definition of the core military function still has as its central focus the notion of the legally and societally sanctioned use of weapons. In this case, use of weapons is not only to wage war but also to defend or maintain peace either within or outside of national boundaries. Snider articulates four essential elements of military culture; these include ceremonial displays and etiquette, discipline, professional ethos, and cohesion and esprit de corps (1999, p. 6). In these elements we can still recognize Schein’s layers of culture such that ceremonial displays may relate to the most visible (artifacts) and esprit de corps and ethos to the least visible aspects (basic underlying assumptions) of organizational culture.

Zellman, Heilbrun, Schmidt, and Builder neatly summarize the core elements of military culture as

“conservative, rooted in history and tradition, based on group loyalty and conformity and oriented toward obedience to superiors” (1993, p. 369). Defined in this way, the potential gulf between military and civilian organizational culture is all the more apparent. The emergence and increased domination of relatively new, non-traditional, “flat” organizations espousing more egalitarian views stand in stark contrast to this admittedly traditional definition of military organizational culture. However, such articulations of the constituent elements of military culture may be said only to accentuate existing differences. For this reason, much thought has been given, particularly in the US, to the acceptable gap between the military and civilian worlds (for US sources, see Snider, 1999; Williamson, 1999; Hillen, 1999; for UK sources, see Dandeker, Higgs, Paton, & Ross, 1997).

That militaries the world over share some common elements, beliefs and ideas is evident; however, this

should not imply that all military cultures are the same, a notion that may have influenced the lack of preparations for multinational operations in the past. As Sharp and English have pointed out, the historical development, political and economic background, and national cultural differences that impact on each military has led to marked differences in national military organizations (2001, p. vi). As will be seen, these military intercultural differences are important to consider; otherwise, they can lead to problems and issues in the conduct of multinational operations.

1.3.5 ORGANIZATION OF REPORT

This report examines the influence of culture on multinational military operations in a number of critical

areas relating to operational effectiveness. The next chapter (Chapter 2) deals with organizational factors and looks at the impact of the structure of individual coalition or alliance partners as well as their varying policies and programs on cooperation and morale. Chapter 3 examines research on the different cultural

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perspectives regarding leadership and command that may be problematic in a coalition or alliance setting. Further chapters examine the research conducted on teams and team building (Chapter 4), cultural predispositions and psychosocial determinants (Chapter 5), communication (Chapter 6), and technology (Chapter 7). Not all key factors fit neatly into these section headings and so Chapter 8 looks at a number of important societal issues such as public opinion, casualty tolerance, and conscripted as opposed to volunteer forces. Once more the analysis focuses on the impact of these national cultural differences on the ability of militaries from different countries to work effectively together. The report concludes with some suggestions to assist in resolving differences and allowing for greater understanding and cooperation within the context of multinational military operations (Chapter 9).

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading C Chapter 3 of RTO-TR-HFM-120

Author: Angela R. Febbraro 3.1 INTRODUCTION

As history demonstrates, the challenge of leading a multinational coalition force or military alliance is

not new (Plante, 1998). In fact, it may be as old as war itself. From the time of Troy to the Crusades to the Thirty Years Wars, from the Napoleonic Wars to the alliances of World Wars I and II, and from the Korean conflict to the “war against terrorism” in Afghanistan, nations have associated with each other in order to achieve a common purpose (Lescoutre, 2003; Elron, Shamir, & Ben-Ari, 1999).

Increasingly, however, and particularly since the end of the Cold War in 1989, the employment of

military forces in multinational operations demands a broader range of leadership competencies than previously required of military commanders (MacIsaac, 2000). Contemporary coalition operations often consist of new partners who typically have not trained together and who have very different military traditions and cultures (Marshall, Kaiser, & Kessmeier, 1997). Indeed, cultural bias, deep seated religious prejudices, and long historical memories have made the integration of a multinational force a significant leadership challenge in the post-Cold War era (Plante, 1998). Further, since the Cold War, multinationality occurs lower down in the chain of command, making it an issue for a broader range of personnel, whether at the strategic, operational, or tactical level (Stewart, Macklin, Proud, Verrall, & Widdowson, 2004). Proficiency in command or leadership at the operational level, for instance, requires the ability to integrate the operations of different forces (e.g., within an alliance or coalition) towards the achievement of mission objectives, despite sources of friction such as differences in goals, logistics, capabilities, training, equipment, doctrines, intelligence, language, leadership, and cultural practices (Plante, 1998; Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). In particular, McCann and Pigeau (2000) emphasize that building an effective coalition force in today’s operations requires that a leader be able to weld together military personnel from different cultures, who have varying abilities and expectations. This ability to integrate diverse forces will become increasingly important as coalition operations become more prevalent and as such operations depend more and more upon effective teamwork among members of diverse cultural backgrounds, each with their own agenda, leadership expectations and style (Bisho, 2004; Bowman & Pierce, 2003; Klein, Pongonis, & Klein, 2000; Plante, 1998). In short, while multinational missions vary in goals, their participants vary in their agendas, leadership and command structures, and cultures (Klein et al., 2000).

Scholarly work on managing global change in the new security environment has been sporadic and

scarce, with the exception of research conducted by military personnel or affiliates whose work is not widely published (Graen, & Hui, 1999). Cross-cultural leadership has not been a major topic of research or training in most militaries (Teo, 2005). Further, much of the work on interoperability in multinational military contexts has focused on technological issues and has neglected the role of human, and in particular, intercultural, factors. This chapter, therefore, will focus on three major aspects of leadership in the context of multinational military operations and intercultural factors, with a specific emphasis on the human, cultural dimension. The first aspect pertains to individual leadership characteristics (including traits, behaviors, and other attributes) that are important in the context of leading multinational, intercultural

Go to Table of Contents

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military operations. The second aspect concerns the leadership implications of cultural barriers to multinational teamwork. The third aspect pertains to leadership or command structures that may be used in the context of multinational, intercultural military operations. The final section of the chapter will focus on recommendations for leadership training and development in the context of multinational, intercultural military operations and teams, and will be followed by a few general concluding comments.

3.2 INDIVIDUAL LEADERSHIP CHARACTERISTICS IN THE CONTEXT OF MULTINATIONAL, INTERCULTURAL MILITARY OPERATIONS 3.2.1 Defining Leadership

Karol Wenek (2005), author of Leadership in the Canadian Forces: Conceptual Foundations, defines

leadership as “directly or indirectly influencing others, by means of formal authority or personal attributes, to act in accordance with one’s intent or a shared purpose” (p. 7). Similarly, the United Kingdom (UK) Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations (1999) suggests that leadership is “essentially about the projection of personality and character to get [others] to do what is required of them” (pp. 2 – 4). In the broader organizational scientific literature, no one definition of leadership has been universally accepted, but in reviewing this literature, and echoing the military definitions, Riggio (2000) defines leadership as “the ability to direct a group toward the attainment of goals” (p. 340). Despite the many definitions of leadership that have been put forward in the military and broader scientific literatures (see MacIsaac, 2000), contemporary leadership theorists generally agree that, rather than reflecting universal qualities of effectiveness, successful leadership is contextual, in that different aspects of leadership will emerge as effective depending on the broad organizational or cultural framework (Gurstein, 1999). In the following section, characteristics (e.g., traits, behaviors, or other attributes) of individual leaders or commanders that may enhance effectiveness in multinational, intercultural military contexts are discussed. 3.2.2 Leadership is More Challenging in Multinational Military Contexts

Gurstein (1999) argues that the requirements of a leader in the multinational context is similar in many

ways to those required of a leader in any other military context: the capacity to motivate; to direct while including; to articulate and instill a sense of common direction and purpose; and to distil, reflect, and project unifying symbols and cultural values. However, each of these requirements is more complex, and more problematic, in a multinational, multicultural, multilingual context, such as the highly political environment that is typical of a United Nations (UN) peacekeeping mission. For example, abilities in mediation, conflict resolution, negotiation, diplomacy, cultural sensitivity, and behavioral flexibility are all considered central to the task of leading a multinational peacekeeping force; but these are typically not included as criteria in leadership selection and training (Gurstein, 1999). Other analysts have also suggested that the requirements for leading a multinational coalition are more demanding and difficult than the requirements for leading a national force. Bowman (1997) points out that coalition leaders must clearly understand that coalition politics may override coalition military logic, and that coalition leaders must be persuasive, not coercive, and sensitive to national needs. According to Barabé (1999), the multinational force commander faces unique integration and unity of effort issues. Against a diversity of impediments, political and otherwise, the commander must blend the skills of component forces so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Similarly, Elron et al. (1999) suggest that the creation of trust in multicultural military settings may be more difficult to achieve than in unicultural military settings, and that commanders must play an integral role in establishing such trust within a multiculturally diverse force. In short, increased cultural diversity within multinational military organizations will increase the level of complexity in the military commander’s task at all levels, multiply the challenges facing military leaders, and require new skills in negotiation, liaison, persuasion, and teamwork (Shamir & Ben-Ari, 2000; see also Stewart, Macklin, Proud,

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Verrall, & Widdowson, 2004).

3.2.3 Unity of Command vs. Unity of Effort/Purpose in a Multinational Military Context

It has been argued that the achievement of unity of command in World War II was due to the qualities of individual officers, attributes such as confidence (both personal and mutual), logic, loyalty, selflessness, devotion to a common cause, and a generous attitude (Wheatley & Buck, 1999). However, it has also been suggested that unity of command, under a single commander whose authority is clearly defined and absolute, is much less attainable in contemporary multinational coalition operations, largely due to national chains of command reaching into theater headquarters and below (Potts, 2004). Bowman (1997), for example, has argued that the best a coalition commander can hope for is unity of effort rather than unity of command. Similarly, Davis (2000a) has held that because of the political nature of coalitions, the fact that commanders typically have restricted authority to direct and control personnel and materiel, and the fact that doctrinal unity of command is rarely achieved in coalitions, operational commanders must focus on achieving unity of effort towards common multinational objectives. Such unity of effort, or unity of purpose, may be gained through cooperation and mutual confidence between coalition partners and the force commander; through rapport and patience; through respect for different cultures, religions, and values; through an understanding and knowledge of each member’s national goals, objectives, capabilities and limitations; through identifying the appropriate mission for participating nations; and through the assignment of equitable tasks in terms of burden and risk sharing (Potts, 2004; Davis, 2000a). Unity of effort requires that everyone works to achieve the same ends within the commander’s intent, which must be disseminated and understood throughout the multinational force (Potts, 2004). However, understanding intent will be a more complex issue when compounded by linguistic and cultural differences (Potts, 2004). Recognizing the overriding impact of politics, Davis proposes three strategies to maximize unity of effort within a coalition: innovative command structures that satisfy national constraints; coordination and consensus building leading to the appropriate employment of force; and development of mutual confidence and cooperation within the coalition’s senior commanders and staff (i.e., through leader development and education). Potts (2004) suggests that direct personal contact, whenever possible, will be critical to ensuring unity of effort and a common understanding of commander intent. 3.2.4 Attributes of Effective Leadership in a Multinational, Intercultural Military Context

As is evident from the discussion above, many analysts agree that intercultural factors raise unique and complex challenges for leaders of multinational military operations. Gillespie (2002) argues that commanders must be aware of, and have the skills to properly address, the question of culture and diversity and how it affects unity of effort in coalition operations. National interests and differences in doctrine, rules of engagement, language, culture, logistics and technology, can all create frictions that could potentially lead to problems in achieving the sense of unity needed to achieve a common goal (Gillespie, 2002). According to Moelker, Soeters and vom Hagen (2007), who studied German-Dutch cooperation in Kabul, Afghanistan, the role of leadership is critical in maintaining a multinational unit’s morale, in keeping good relations with other units in the mission, and in creating cohesion within the unit. Whatever the similarities and differences between various coalition forces, commanders must recognize the difficulty of integrating national forces into a successful coalition (Bisho, 2004). As discussed previously, leaders and planners must ensure a common understanding of coalition political goals in striving for full unity of effort (Bisho, 2004). The coalition leader must build consensus regarding common goals and objectives, for it is this consensus that provides the glue that binds the multinational force together (Davis, 2000a). Further, a multinational coalition must share at least some elements of a common doctrine since this will determine force structure and procedures. As Bisho (2004) suggests, successful coalition leaders will be those who best handle

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operational realities by applying the proper blend of vision, determination, patience, tolerance, and flexibility. Further, as Davis (2000b) points out, coalition leadership must be sensitive to the fact that the participating forces in a multinational operation are not always equally capable, and must assign individual forces the missions that they are able to accomplish.

Indeed, the commander of a multinational force must have a thorough understanding of the capabilities

and weaknesses of each component and contributing unit, and must be attuned to national and political sensitivities (UK Doctrine on Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). This calls for political awareness, patience, tact, respect, and mutual understanding based on knowledge of other nations’ languages, history, and importantly, culture (UK Doctrine on Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). Similarly, mutual respect for the professional ability, culture, history, religion, customs, and values of participants will serve to strengthen relationships. The military leader must respect the individual terms of service of the national forces (e.g., leave and promotion rules, decorations policies, restrictions on types of acceptable assignments), which may vary dramatically across contingents (see also McKee, Chapter 2). Finding a means to reconcile these with the accomplishment of the mission is a significant responsibility for the commander of a multinational peacekeeping force (Gurstein, 1999). The commander must weld all the national contingents together into a strong and coordinated team, and by personal example, continue to motivate the team. Further, there must be mutual understanding between the operational level commander and component commanders to ensure unity of effort. In multinational operations, elements from other nations may be embedded within each component and are likely to be responsive to their national chain of command. This can cause friction, which the commander must overcome. In short, the force commander must integrate all elements into the coalition force and maximize their contribution regardless of need, size, or special competence (Bowman, 1997).

The present international security environment also involves working with many non-traditional

participants or partners, including members of other forces, organizations, and civilians (MacIsaac, 2000). It is in this area that military leaders must assess the personalities and competencies of the individuals involved, determine their specific interests, learn how to gain their support, and, where formal operating agreements do not exist (or force protection/rules of engagement policies or interpretations vary; Potts, 2004), influence their actions to gain unity of effort (MacIsaac, 2000). Leaders must be able to shift from an emphasis on formal agreed upon procedures to an emphasis in which liaison, negotiation, cultural awareness, understanding, and patience elicit support (MacIsaac, 2000). Leaders must possess the capacity to develop and adopt innovative solutions and methods for conflict resolution and to apply varied leadership approaches to deal with diverse national aims or individual personalities (MacIsaac, 2000).

Gurstein (1999) has identified nine dimensions of leadership that are important in the context of

peacekeeping operations, many of which are applicable to multinational military operations more broadly. The first dimension is communication, or the capacity to receive and distribute information accurately,

promptly, and in a manner that can be understood and acted upon by the receiver. In a national force, one can rely on a shared language and culture and the broadly shared acceptance of the overall mission to facilitate communication; this is not necessarily so in a multinational military operation.

The second dimension is human relations, or the capacity to work with staff in such a way as to

motivate, develop, and coordinate their actions and participation. In a national force this activity would be facilitated by the general familiarity and camaraderie that leaders have with their followers and vice versa. In a multinational context, the need to stitch together working teams at the command and operational level from individuals and units with a variety of cultural backgrounds is a significant leadership skill and challenge.

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The third dimension is counselling, or the focused concern with the all-around well-being of the individual. In the peacekeeping or multinational military context, counseling is the responsibility of the national battalions. In UN peace forces, however, the counseling that might be expected from senior officers might be inhibited because of national or cultural differences between senior officers and field level troops.

The fourth dimension is supervision, or the ability to coordinate the activities of subordinates and work

groups to meet organizational objectives. In this context, the activities of lower level military supervisors to the battalion level would likely be similar to those activities in national battalions. At the higher levels, however, lack of mission clarity may present a barrier to effective supervision.

The fifth dimension is technological, or proficiency in technical operations and procedures. Among the technical skills of particular importance in a multinational context are negotiation and conflict resolution skills.

The sixth dimension is management science, or the formal measurement or evaluation element of

management activity. The seventh dimension is decision making. In national forces, decision making is a highly valued

leadership quality. However, there may be ambiguities and difficulties in independent decision making by military peacekeepers, for example, in the field.

The eighth dimension is planning, which includes the activities of forecasting, setting objectives,

developing strategies, programming, budgeting, setting up procedures, and developing policies. Leaders in multinational military contexts must be highly flexible and adaptable in order to respond as required, for planning in such contexts is often ad hoc and situational.

The ninth dimension is ethics. Ethics in a national force differs from that in a multilateral force in that

the mission of a national force tends to be relatively clear and a reflection of national interest. By contrast, the mission of a multinational (e.g., peacekeeping) force may be much less clear and may involve complicated activities in distant lands, only some of which may be considered traditional military responsibilities. In peacekeeping situations, there is the additional complication of expecting military leaders and subordinates to identify with a supranational ethical standard where the operation is undertaken “on behalf of all of humanity” (Gurstein, 1999, p. 212). Thus, there is the need to develop an ethical base to leadership in such morally difficult environments as are found in many peacekeeping contexts (Gurstein, 1999). Further, as Graen and Hui (1999) argue, cultural differences complicate ethical judgments, and leaders must find ways to deal with these complexities, which is no small task. 3.2.4 Transformational Leadership: An Expanded Leadership Paradigm

In a multinational military context, contingents will each possess their own histories, traditions, morals

and values (Champagne, 1999). Thus, operational commanders will often be confronted with the challenge of conducting operations under a united and multinational command, influenced by political direction from multinational or multilateral organizations. The different contingents’ motivations will demand that the commander foster a strong sense of purpose and trust, along with the capacity to deal with highly complex operational situations while remaining cognizant of political and cultural aspects. Indeed, multinational leadership skills involve more than simple team building skills and adaptability. Given political constraints, and unclear civilian and political chains of command, multinational commanders must exemplify leadership characterized by a strong sense of purpose, innovative thinking, enthusiasm, individualized concerns, and satisfaction in accomplishment, while finding innovative ways to reward and manage their troops (Champagne, 1999). In other words, as Champagne (1999) argues, what is needed from a multinational

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commander is charismatic, inspirational, and intellectual leadership (i.e., transformational leadership), and also aspects of transactional leadership (e.g., contingent reward, management by exception). Transactional leadership occurs when a leader rewards or disciplines followers based on the adequacy of their performance of mutually agreed or leader-assigned tasks (MacIsaac, 2000). Transformational leadership complements transactional leadership, and the full spectrum of leadership competencies is needed (Champagne, 1999). Similarly, in discussing the Full Range Leadership Model by Avolio and Bass, MacIsaac (2000) argues that transactional leadership must be expanded to meet the new challenges that result from operational deployments in the more complex and politically ambiguous, less certain, new world security environment. More specifically, in order for leaders to develop enduring trust, loyalty, and commitment from followers, leaders must pay special attention to individual followers’ needs for achievement and growth, and frequently act as coach or mentor (MacIsaac, 2000) – all aspects of transformational leadership. Similarly, Shamir and Ben-Ari (2000) suggest that multinational military leadership requires several aspects of transformational leadership, such as individual consideration (sensitivity to members’ needs, respecting differences, and providing opportunities for development) and intellectual stimulation (challenging others’ assumptions and stereotypes, encouraging a viewing of the world from different perspectives, and fostering critical and independent thinking). Thus, to be effective in today’s military environment, a commander must be willing to adopt and apply the principles of transformational leadership in addition to the more typical transactional leadership approach, and moreover, must be capable of transitioning from one approach to the other, depending on the circumstances (MacIsaac, 2000; see also Shamir & Ben-Ari, 2000).

Indeed, the ability to transition from one leadership style to another, depending on the cultural or

situational context, will be critical to multinational leadership, as different nations within a multinational military contingent will value and respond positively to different styles of leadership. For example, as part of the Global Leadership and Organizational Behavior Effectiveness (GLOBE) studies, and in addressing the question of whether transformational leadership attributes would be “universally” endorsed in a sample of 62 nations, Den Hartog et al. (1999) found that while some leadership traits (e.g., decisive, positive, just and intelligent) were seen as universally positive, and other leadership traits (e.g., ruthless and egocentric) were seen as universally negative, a number of leadership traits (e.g., sincerity, evasiveness, cunningness, sensitivity, and enthusiasm) were indicative of effective leadership in some cultures but not others. Similarly, because of the diverse values and core beliefs of different societies, concepts of leadership are culture bound; for example, authority might be based on achievement, wealth, education, charisma, or birthright, depending on the nation or culture (Lewis, 2000). In some societies, leadership is individual (or even despotic), and authority and decision-making structures are hierarchical; in other societies, leadership is collective, and authority and decision-making structures are more collaborative (Lewis, 2000). The most effective leaders, therefore, will be those who can adapt their leadership style to suit different cultural contexts (see also Lewis, 2000). 3.2.5 Combining Social, Emotional, and Cultural Intelligence: Transculturals

In addition to the above requirements, Champagne (1999) argues that an operational commander in a

multinational context must be able to deal with the social complexity, or the multiplicities, diversities, and intricacies that are found in social dynamics and interconnections. Leaders will need both conceptual and social competencies (i.e., “social intelligence”) in order to achieve success in high-tempo, diverse multinational operations (see also Zaccaro, 1999). According to Zaccaro (2002), social intelligence reflects an ability to successfully engage in social awareness, social acumen, response selection, and response enactment. Similarly, Zaccaro, Gilbert, Thor, and Mumford (1991) maintain that effective leaders possess social intelligence, which allows them to accurately perceive social requirements and select appropriate behavioral responses. Zaccaro (1999) argues that effective military leadership entails the utilization of

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various social competencies, and maintains that behavioral flexibility, conflict management, persuasion, and social reasoning skills are critical for senior military leaders. Once again, such social intelligence or cultural intelligence skills will be all the more critical and complex for multinational military leaders (see Stewart, Cremin, Mills, & Phipps, 2004). For example, such leaders will require the ability to conduct cross- cultural dialogue and adapt their communication style to the situation, to engage in active listening, and to be perceptive and sensitive to other cultures (Teo, 2005).

Similarly, other analysts have suggested that leaders require “emotional intelligence,” or the ability to

perceive emotions, access and produce emotions to aid in thought processes, understand emotions and emotional knowledge, and monitor emotions for the promotion of emotional and intellectual growth (Mayer & Salovey, 1997). Recently, increased importance has been placed on the emotional intelligence of leaders due to findings suggesting that emotional intelligence can be used to facilitate transformational leadership (see Zugek & Korabik, 2004). Although the concept of emotional intelligence (and the use of emotional intelligence tests for military selection and training) has been questioned (Day, Newsome, & Catano, 2002), the ability to understand emotional knowledge will be even more challenging and important for multinational military leaders, given differences in emotional expression and communication across different cultures.

Furthermore, as the world becomes more culturally pluralistic, transculturally skilled multinational

commanders will be needed, to transcend and accommodate cultural differences, and in order to integrate people of different cultural backgrounds together in a unity of purpose (Graen & Hui, 1999). Thus, the challenge of multinational military operations is to select and train “transculturals” – those individuals who transcend cultural differences and who can bring people of different cultures together (Graen & Hui, 1999). In a similar vein, other analysts, such as Gareis and vom Hagen (2005), have also suggested the importance of transcultural leadership skills. Indeed, Gareis and vom Hagen call for the transformation of military multinationality into military transnationality, which corresponds to a culture that is more than merely the sum of several national elements, and is thus transcultural. To the extent that multinational military leaders can achieve this cultural integration, cooperation and unit effectiveness will be enhanced. However, transcultural leaders will be required to deal not only with diversity within the multinational force, but also with diversity in the local population. As problems become more complex due to multinational, global issues, the need for cross-cultural teamwork becomes increasingly critical. Thus, a way of command that promotes such teamwork, or what Graen and Hui have referred to as “Best Leadership Practices,” is required. Similarly, Elron, Halevy, Ben-Ari, and Shamir (2003) discuss interculturally effective leadership behaviors such as:

Integrating differences (e.g., bringing different cultural perspectives and preferences together, resolving

differences among them, and generating integrative solutions and compromises); Bridging differences (i.e., communicating across differences, making efforts to understand them, and building shared bases and commonalities, such as a shared military professionalism, lessons learned, mission specific experiences, and supra ordinate goals); and Tolerating differences (i.e., passive actions or inactions that allow others the space to act freely according to their own cultural values, beliefs and norms; suspending quick judgment; and avoiding treading on others’ cultural “comfort zone,” such as not ridiculing others’ religious customs or practices) (see also Mannix & Neale, 2005).

Reflecting the themes discussed above, Cremin, Mills, Phipps and Stewart (2005) have also discussed

the behavioral characteristics of effective multinational military leaders. These behaviors include: adopting a flexible and adaptive command and leadership style in accordance with the foreign contingents under their command; building personal and professional relationships with foreign contingents by paying them visits and, where possible, socializing with them; establishing a shared “frame of reference” for the

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operation; and engendering understanding and trust between the different nations by negotiating and building relationships (see also Stewart, Cremin, et al., 2004). Further, the knowledge, skills, and attributes of effective multinational commanders (Cremin et al., 2005) include leadership and coaching skills; cognizance of other nations from a variety of perspectives and how they relate to one’s own nation; empathy towards other nations; and self-awareness and self-control. Finally, Cremin et al. (2005) offer the following “top 10 tips for multinational commanders:”

If you don’t already have it, build your ‘national knowledge’ of the historical, social, political, economic makeup of other nations in your command (along with a database of multinational experience).

Be prepared to adapt your command style.

Prioritize relationship building. Mutual respect is key. The goal is to foster a communicative, collaborative, and co-operative relationship.

Understand national contingent capabilities. Do not over task contingent forces, but build the level of challenge in tasks slowly.

Don’t assume your way is the only way. Different approaches may be needed.

Negotiation is commonplace; command by discussion.2

Be prepared for variations in the standard of spoken English (and be careful about the use of acronyms). Always seek closed loop communication when conveying important information.

Establish a common sense of purpose.

Where possible, establish a common operating procedure (COP) (e.g., when shared doctrine and Standard Operating Procedures or SOPs are lacking, create a unifying set of COPs/SOPs).

Promote equity of risk and reward. Assisting Multinational Military Leaders: Liaison Officers and Liaison Teams

In past coalitions, the problem for multinational military leaders of establishing unity of effort or command has been alleviated to some degree by the use of liaison officers and teams at the operational and tactical levels (Gillespie, 2002). These groups of personnel are conversant in the national language and culture of the forces involved, can smooth out communication problems, and may enhance coordination and cooperation (Gillespie, 2002). These “directed telescopes” or teams of well-trained liaison officers allow the commander to get regular feedback on the comprehension and compliance of coalition forces in theater (Davis, 2000a; Gillespie, 2002). As will be discussed later in this chapter, the concept of liaison teams was used in the Persian Gulf War, for example, when General Schwarzkopf selected a group of liaison teams that established communications between his headquarters and the major coalition partners. This team reported back to the Coalition Coordination and Communications Center, which provided information and clarified orders to coalition members (Gillespie, 2002). Similarly, the formation of “geostrategic scouts,” or officers who have the requisite linguistic, cultural, historical, regional, and geopolitical knowledge, can assist coalition commanders when they move into various regions of the world (see Davis, 2000a). Through these mechanisms, unity of effort at the operational and tactical level can be achieved by confirming that the commander’s intent is properly developed, communicated, and carried out.

Liaison officers can also assist with technological interoperability in multinational forces which often

involves intercultural issues (Macklin, Christie, & Stewart, 2004). According to Metz (as cited in Marshall et al., 1997), asymmetries in technology among coalition partners poses the greatest threat to cohesion and

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effectiveness during combat operations (see also Mazakowski, Chapter 7). Thus, while force modernization has the potential to increase interoperability, it also brings new challenges that could compromise unity of effort in multinational forces. The challenge for a commander is to balance any loss of tempo by the most technologically capable elements of the force, against the inclusion of the least capable, in a way that achieves the operational aim. It is also necessary for digitally superior headquarters to provide digitized liaison teams to bring appropriate links and functionality to subordinate headquarters.

Ironically, the requirement for human liaison in the information age will be greater than ever before,

especially in multinational, intercultural operations. One key element in this new security environment will be empowered, trained, and equipped liaison officers of appropriate rank that can provide the lubrication to make the system work (Potts, 2004). Thus, trained liaison teams knowledgeable in military technology and doctrine, as well as in language and culture, are important for mission success, as such teams can greatly assist with the understanding of commander intent (Bowman, 1997; see also Macklin et al., 2004; Stewart, Cremin, et al., 2004; and Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004).

Regardless of technology, there are several human interoperability issues that must be addressed in

multinational military operations. The most obvious is language. English is now the dominant language in business and international popular culture. It has also emerged as the language of choice of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation’s (NATO’s) multinational High Readiness Force Land Headquarters. This means that it will become increasingly important for native English speakers to be able to speak other languages in order to enhance cultural sensitivity, and in order to build mutual understanding and respect (Bowman, 1997; Macklin et al., 2004; Potts, 2004; Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). Language training must therefore become an integral part of officer development (Potts, 2004). The language problem can be lessened by the early identification of the need for translator support and the use of multilingual liaison personnel (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). Further, interpreters can assist not only with translation but may also act as cultural, diplomatic, and political mediators (Bos & Soeters, 2006).

Another issue is food. Recent anecdotal evidence suggests that food will remain a key cultural

interoperability issue (Potts, 2004; Bisho, 2004). Further, it is recommended that commanders strive to accommodate religious holidays, festivals, prayer calls, and other unique cultural traditions important to various contingents, depending on the circumstances (Bowman, 2004; UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). In the Persian Gulf War, for instance, recognition and accommodation of Arab cultural differences were essential in gaining consensus and maintaining cohesion within the coalition. To assist with cultural and language challenges, linguists and area experts may be employed by commanders at all levels (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999).In short, the skills required for effective leadership in multinational military operations are significantly more complex than those required in national and culturally homogenous military forces, and will present unique challenges in the present global context (Gurstein, 1999). CULTURAL BARRIERS TO TEAMWORK IN MULTINATIONAL MILITARY OPERATIONS: IMPLICATIONS FOR LEADERSHIP AND COMMAND

It is evident that cultural differences in language, nonverbal behavior, and body language (e.g., differences in voice inflections or facial expressions; norms regarding acceptable length of eye contact or personal distance; variations in handshakes) may all pose challenges to intercultural communication in multinational military contexts (Desimone, Werner, & Harris, 2002; Gillespie, 2002; see also Riedel, Chapter 6). In this section, however, potential cognitive cultural barriers to communication and teamwork in multinational military contexts will be examined, with a particular focus on implications for leadership and command (Hofstede, 1980, 1983, 1991; Klein, 2005; Klein et al., 2000).

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Hofstede’s Cultural Dimensions

In multinational military operations, as in other military contexts, command and control depends on a shared understanding of the intent of the mission. Participants must be aware of the goals and expectations for collaboration. Mission success requires communication and the monitoring of ongoing operations. Military personnel need to understand the reasoning patterns, judgments, and decision making of multinational coalition members in complex environments. However, during complex, time pressured missions, such as are typical of coalition operations, judgments must be made in the face of considerable uncertainty. Moreover, cultural differences may affect such cognitive tasks as planning, problem detection, situation awareness, uncertainty management, and decision making. If commanders assume that others interpret and react as they do, manage uncertainty as they do, and think about real and hypothetical issues as they do, then there can be problems in command and control (Klein, 2005; Klein et al., 2000). Further, command and control can be an even bigger issue in distributed situations, where face-to-face personal contact is not possible, and feedback is limited (Klein et al., 2000). Although technology can assist communication in distributed situations, technology does not always provide a suitable medium for conveying important messages involving statements of intent, such as commander’s intent (Macklin et al., 2004). Further, the greater the number of nations with disparate cultures, the greater the quantity of information available and the greater the complexity of collaboration and coordination (Lichacz & Farrell, 2005).

In the 1980s, Geert Hofstede made a comprehensive attempt to capture national value and cultural

differences through a cross-cultural classification scheme of work-related values in organizations (Handley & Levis, 2001). This classification scheme was based on four dimensions: power distance, uncertainty avoidance, individualism-collectivism, and masculinity-femininity (Hofstede, 1980, 1983, 1991). Power distance relates to the amount of respect and deference between those in superior and subordinate positions, or the extent to which the less powerful in a system accept and expect an unequal distribution of power (see also Klein et al., 2000). Uncertainty avoidance relates to planning, and the creation of stability, as a means for dealing with uncertainty. Individualism-collectivism relates to whether one’s identity is defined by personal goals and achievements or by the character of the collective group to which one belongs. Masculinity-femininity refers to the relative emphasis on achievement versus interpersonal harmony.3 Hofstede subsequently assessed these value dimensions among thousands of IBM employees in 72 national cultures and in 20 languages (Hofstede, 1991; see also Gerstner & Day, 1994; House, Hanges, Javidan, Dorfman, & Gupta, 2004; and Javidan & House, 2001). Although the generalizability and validity of Hofstede’s cultural dimensions have been questioned (see Klein et al., 2000), his work is generally seen as a step forward in understanding and measuring differences in national culture and values (Handley & Levis, 2001). In particular, the dimensions of power distance and uncertainty avoidance have been seen as useful conceptualizations of national cognitive differences relevant to leadership (Klein et al., 2000). Power distance appears to describe a leadership style, while uncertainty avoidance relates to the concept of risk assessment in leaders’ decision making (Klein et al.,2000).

Since Hofstede’s work was first introduced, many military researchers and analysts have incorporated

his dimensions, and other related cognitive factors, into their analysis of cultural barriers to teamwork. For example, Bowman and Pierce (2003) have described four cognitive cultural barriers to teamwork that they argue influence communication, coordination, and decision making in multinational military contexts. Expanding on Hofstede’s conceptualizations, these four dimensions include power distance, tolerance for uncertainty, the individualism/collectivism dichotomy, and cultural differences in reasoning. In Bowman and Pierce’s terms, power distance describes the extent to which less powerful individuals in a system accept inequality. In low power distance relationships, working patterns are more egalitarian and team processes are more collaborative and interactive. In contrast, in high power distance teams, leaders tend to

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be directive, thereby constraining team creativity and collaboration. Tolerance for uncertainty reflects the amount of discomfort experienced by an individual or team in the presence of unknown factors. A low tolerance is marked by a search for details through rules and structure, whereas individuals or teams who act or make decisions in the face of incomplete knowledge are exhibiting a high tolerance for uncertainty. This difference can cause problems in a team, or among teams, if members or teams with high and low tolerances must work together. One member or team will start slowly, collecting as much information as possible, while the other member or team will move quickly toward an end product or solution. The individualism/collectivism dichotomy reflects a preference for working alone or in a group. This dimension includes a preference for building relationships among team members as contrasted with a focus on individual task achievement. Individualists often view the mission as primary and relationships among team members as secondary, whereas collectivists view team relationships as critical to producing a viable team product. Finally, cultural differences in reasoning can also emerge in the context of multinational operations. Such differences may be related to concrete versus hypothetical thought patterns: Hypothetical thinkers are capable of envisioning several solutions to a problem, while concrete thinkers prefer to have detailed plans of action and often use previously used solutions to solve new tasks. These differences can cause problems in a team setting when a course of action is unclear or when conditions require changes to a plan. The hypothetical thinker is capable of generating several possible solutions, while a concrete thinker may view this as avoiding the problem at hand (Bowman & Pierce, 2003). 3.3.2 Power Distance, Uncertainty Avoidance, and Leadership

As indicated above, Hofstede’s dimensions have important implications for leadership. For example,

masculinity-femininity may affect whether the leader (and team members) are more focused on the task/achievement or on harmonious interpersonal relationships. Individualism-collectivism may affect whether the leader (and team members) are focused more on their own personal goals or the goals of the collective. Long-term vs. short-term orientation may affect whether the leader (and team members) are open to change or seek to uphold traditions. However, the cultural dimensions of power distance and uncertainty avoidance appear to be especially pertinent to leadership and command. Differences in power distance, for instance, are reflected in leadership style, as well as in the interpersonal power and influence between the superior and the subordinate. In cultures with low power distance, we would find more collaborative, egalitarian working patterns and team interchanges, less centralized or top down decision making, and flatter organizational structures (Handley & Levis, 2001). It is interesting to note that even among NATO nations, there are variations in power distance. For example, some studies have shown Norway and Denmark to be low on this dimension, while Turkey, France, and Belgium have been found to be high on power distance, which is associated with a more top down, hierarchical, authoritarian leadership style (Hofstede, 1980; see also Soeters, Tanercan, Varoglu, & Sigri, 2004; but cf. Elron et al., 1999). Similarly, Soeters (1997) found strong cultural differences in power distance in the military academies of 13 nations, with the UK military academy showing the highest level of power distance among all the academies studied (see also Soeters & Bos-Bakx, 2003; and Soeters & Recht, 2001).

Significantly, there are also implications of power distance for mission command, or the command

doctrine underlying maneuver warfare. Mission command is designed to achieve unity of effort, a faster tempo, and initiative at all levels; it requires decentralization of authority and decision making (see Davis, 2000b). The emphasis is on the development of skills and the transmission of a commander’s intent so that personnel at all levels can function effectively when unexpected events occur with no time for additional input from above (Handley & Levis, 2001). Comfort with this approach will vary with differences in power distance (Klein et al., 2000; UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999; see also Soeters et al., 2004). Specifically, cultures that are low in power distance will be comfortable with the mission command approach to command and control, whereas cultures that are high on power distance will be less

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comfortable with this approach (see also Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). As Potts (2004) suggests, some nations have inscribed the concept of mission command into their military cultures, allowing subordinates considerable freedom of action and discretion to take the initiative within the commander’s intent as circumstances change. Others expect to command, and be commanded, by detailed orders, with a need for frequent reporting back to superiors and further direction as circumstances change. Potts argues that nations must work towards a common understanding of mission command in order to maximize effectiveness in multinational operations, while recognizing and accommodating different approaches. Similarly, Soeters (1997) has argued that commanding officers of international military units should be aware that their leadership or management styles are not necessarily understood in the same manner by different nations, and that they should show mutual understanding and promote multinational teamwork on an equal status basis, with shared interests and common goals for all nations involved. One way to achieve this, as mentioned previously, is for leaders to adapt their leadership styles to suit the situation and cultures of their component forces.

Differences in uncertainty avoidance, or the extent to which members of a culture experience

uncertainty as stressful and the extent to which they take actions to avoid uncertainty, are also relevant to leadership, and in particular, to decision making (Hofstede, 1980, 1991). People (e.g., leaders) who are high on uncertainty avoidance experience change and ambiguity as highly stressful; thus, they may seek out rules that will provide structure and order for change, and are uncomfortable with making decisions in the face of uncertainty (Klein et al., 2000). An organization that scores high on uncertainty avoidance will have standardized and formal decision-making procedures (Handley & Levis, 2001), and a military organization that is high on uncertainty avoidance is less likely to be comfortable with mission command (Stewart, Cremin, et al., 2004). In contrast, people (leaders) who are low on uncertainty avoidance are more comfortable making decisions in the face of uncertainty (Hofstede, 1980, 1991). In organizations with low uncertainty avoidance, decision-making procedures will be less formal and plans will continually be reassessed for needed modifications (Handley & Levis, 2001). Uncertainty avoidance also influences a national group’s readiness to adapt in the face of an unexpected development. High stakes, time pressured decision making is coordinated when multinational collaborators are similar on uncertainty avoidance and risk assessment. However, it is difficult for people who value spontaneity and last-minute decisions to coordinate actions with those who need firm, committed plans. When operations include people with different tolerances for uncertainty, there can be tension. A leader or decision maker with high uncertainty avoidance is likely to follow the procedure regardless of circumstances, whereas a leader or decision maker with low uncertainty avoidance may be more innovative (Handley & Levis, 2001). Among NATO nations, Portugal and Greece are rated high on uncertainty avoidance while Denmark and the United States (US) are rated as low (Hofstede, 1980). Thus, the challenge for a commander or leader is to recognize cultural differences in these areas and use them to balance perspectives rather than to create disharmony (Klein et al., 2000).

Indeed, although analysts agree that national cultural differences in cognition may present barriers to

successful coalition command and control, coordination and communication (Handley & Levis, 2001; Klein et al., 2000), these cultural differences may be overcome. Klein et al. (2000), for example, propose a cultural lens concept that captures cultural differences in reasoning, judgement, and authority structure (see also Klein, 2005). A cultural lens is a metaphor to allow those involved in command and control operations to see their world as if through the eyes of other participants and to understand how options are conceptualized and evaluated. According to Klein et al. (2000), the ability to decenter that is brought about through the cultural lens can support the anticipation of actions, facilitate accurate judgements, and lead to the effective negotiation of differences. Further, seeing the world through the cultural lens of others may increase common vision in the face of divergent views (Klein, 2005). In short, a cultural lens is a tool that a multinational leader can use to strengthen common ground and the coordination of action, and to enhance

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understanding in the context of multinational military operations (see also Lewis, 2000). Before proceeding to a discussion of leadership and command structures, it may be pertinent to discuss

some of the implications of network enabled operations (NEOps) or network centric warfare for the leadership of intercultural, distributed military teams.5 According to the 2005 Canadian Forces (CF) keystone document on NEOps, the objectives of NEOps are to improve the planning and execution of operations through the use of information and communication technology linking people, processes, and ad hoc networks (Department of National Defence, 2005). Such operations are intended to allow joint, interagency, multinational and public stakeholders, as appropriate, to access information and data seamlessly, from a wide range of sources, in order to facilitate effective and timely interaction between sensors, leaders and effects. The results should be an expanded awareness and comprehension of the environment (situational awareness), improved access to timely, relevant information, improved reaction time and synchronization of activity, and improved ability to act. Further, through a clear understanding of the commander’s intent and the operational picture, leaders, including those at subordinate levels, will be able and expected through NEOps to exercise increased initiative, thus enabling a greater degree of mission command to take place. Furthermore, according to the CF keystone document, NEOps will enhance the ability to work effectively with allies, coalition participants and a range of governmental and non- governmental defence and security partners to achieve a common goal, with due consideration for any legal, jurisdictional, or proprietary constraints (Department of National Defence, 2005). Thus, NEOps is expected to increase interoperability. NEOps may also be viewed as the means by which the effects desired by a commander (i.e., effects based operations) are most successfully achieved. However, as discussed previously, not all nations are equally comfortable with the notion of mission command or the decentralized power/authority (low power distance orientation) that is permitted by NEOps, and not all nations are equally technologically equipped (or “net ready”) for NEOps in the first place (see also Masakowski, Chapter 7). Further, effective NEOps require a high degree of trust between partners (e.g., in order to share information), and this will place unique demands on the skills of leaders and commanders in order to engender such trust without the benefit of direct personal contact. Indeed, NEOps will require the shaping of culture to realize greater information sharing and collaboration, higher levels of trust, and greater devolution of authority. In short, NEOps is fundamentally a human endeavor, not simply a technological practice, in which intercultural factors and awareness play a critical role. It is likely that training, as well as strong leadership, will be required to build trust and confidence between nations that may have to collaborate on a distributed and temporary basis within the context of NEOps. 3.4 LEADERSHIP OR COMMAND STRUCTURES

3.4.1 Types of Command Structures

It is widely accepted that the most important principle for international coalition effectiveness is a defined and viable command and control structure (MacIsaac, 2000). The command structure will determine who is in charge, and the command authority will determine the authority that the commander will have over the force (Lescoutre, 2003). However, the issue of command structure may be especially contentious and complicated within the context of an intercultural, multinational military operation (Bowman, 1997; Lescoutre, 2003). As Gillespie (2002) points out, the national interests of forces involved in a multinational operation may lead to potential conflicts. Alliances can deal with these issues by established command and control structures that take into account differences in national procedures (Gillespie, 2002). These structures have personnel from each of the alliance members, who become integral to the command and planning process in both operational and logistical billets, and this integration, along with addressing potential problems early on, creates a sense of trust amongst the participants (Gillespie,

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2002). In short-term coalition efforts, however, commanders will typically not have the same luxury, as time will be a factor, and leadership must be based on trust, persuasion, and sensitivity to national needs (Gillespie, 2002).

Whatever the command structure, multi-nationality poses a number of challenges, the resolution of

which is critical to military effectiveness and operational success. These challenges include the formation of an effective command and control system, an intelligence system that can employ data from a number of multinational and national sources, and a logistics system that takes into account the need for national support but also multinational needs. The coalition commander must be responsible for coordinating all military infrastructure within the theater of operations, and the presence of civilian groups, nongovernmental organizations, and private voluntary organizations will make the coordination requirements even greater (Bowman, 1997). All things considered, multinational command requires an attitude of mind that is international in perspective (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999).

The structure of command within multinational military operations may take a number of forms.

Current doctrine generally recognizes three main types of coalition command structures: lead nation command, parallel command, and integrated command (Durell-Young, 1997; see also Lescoutre, 2003; and Overton, 2003). As Lescoutre (2003) suggests, the commander of a multinational military force must choose a command structure that will maximize the potential to command and provide for unity of effort or purpose throughout the coalition. However, current doctrine does not offer any guidance to a force commander as to which command structure may be preferable in any given coalition situation (Lescoutre, 2003). Durell-Young (1997) has identified three characteristics that should be considered when selecting a command structure (see also Lescoutre, 2003). First, the commander must be cognizant of the political dimension that influences the coalition dynamic, and must thoroughly understand the political objectives to be achieved, in order to select the optimum command structure (Lescoutre, 2003). Second, if a coalition must intervene rapidly into a conflict, then a strong lead nation command structure is recommended (Lescoutre, 2003). This lead nation should be regionally based and maintain its existing integrated headquarters (Lescoutre, 2003). Third, if there is a vast diversity of cultures involved in the coalition, then a parallel command structure should be selected (Lescoutre, 2003). A strong spirit of cooperation and mutual support between the multinational commanders must accompany a parallel command structure (see Durell-Young, 1997; Lescoutre, 2003; cf. Bowman, 1997).

3.4.2 Command Structures in Action: Case Histories

Lescoutre (2003) illustrates considerations for selecting a command structure in the context of

four coalition operations: the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War, and the UN International Force in East Timor (INTERFET). These examples or case histories are detailed in the paragraphs below. 3.4.2.1 Lead Nation Command

As Lescoutre (2003) explains, the lead nation command structure is present when one of the nations in

a multinational coalition has the acknowledged and explicit lead role. This role normally includes the position of multinational force commander and the domination of the command and control element in the headquarters. In most cases, the lead nation has the largest force in the operation; further, all other national elements in the coalition are subordinate to the lead nation with some specific conditions over the use and control of their forces. Depending on the size and duration of the operation, the force commander will integrate, within his/her headquarters, a number of coalition member representatives based on each nation’s

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contribution. This integration of the headquarters also provides smaller coalition members with the feeling that they are playing a role in the leadership of the mission. However, the greater the contribution that a nation makes to the coalition operation, the greater the role that a nation will have in the decision-making process. The UN sponsored operations in Korea (in which the US took the lead) and in East Timor (in which Australia was the lead nation) are two examples of a lead nation command structure in coalition operations (Lescoutre, 2003; Wheatley & Buck, 1999). As will be seen below, even where there is a lead nation command structure, lead nations depend on the support from liaison teams or coalition operating regions in order to achieve mission success. Further, lead nations must respect the culture and traditions of subordinate nations, or problems may arise.

In the Korean War, there were significant cultural and language differences between the Republic of

Korea (ROK) and the Eighth US Army (EUSA). Differing religious customs, the importance of “saving face,” and the limited number of translators in the Hangul language, as well as the lack of modern technical terms within this language, were difficult challenges (Wheatley & Buck, 1999). To facilitate joint operations, a liaison corps (i.e., the US Military Advisory Corp, or KMAG) was established between the EUSA and ROK units. The KMAG’s main responsibilities were to maintain a liaison between the ROK Army and the EUSA and to assist the ROK Army by providing guidance and suggestions relating to US actions and intentions. As the liaison, the KMAG Headquarters was co-located within the ROK Army Headquarters. Since the KMAG advisors were also assigned to ROK units, they were able to provide information regarding the activities and status of these units to EUSA. Despite problems within the KMAG, including not having enough advisors and equipment, the KMAG helped to overcome language and cultural differences between the coalition partners (Wheatley & Buck, 1999).

In East Timor (Operation Stabilize), in which Australia, the largest contributing nation, was the lead

nation, more than 20 culturally diverse countries participated (Lescoutre, 2003). However, the cultural diversity of the coalition members did not impact negatively on the success of the mission. Lescoutre (2003) attributes this success to two main factors. First, since the Australian Defence Forces were already structured to operate in the region, most of the coalition members were regionally based. Second, the theater commander (General Peter Cosgrove) of the INTERFET made every attempt to meet the goals and concerns of the troop contributing nations (Lescoutre, 2003; see also Ballard, 2001). In fact, INTERFET built upon the strong relationships that existed among the Australian, New Zealand, UK, and American elements of the coalition. This trust made for fluid communication among the English speaking members of the coalition (Australia, New Zealand, the UK, Canada, and the US). Significantly, it was among these nations, which shared a common language and similar culture, where most of the communication occurred within the coalition (Ballard, 2001). Further, within the INTERFET staff, Thailand’s General Songkitti Jaggabatara served as both a national command element commander and General Cosgrove’s deputy. This assignment was designed as a contribution to coalition cohesiveness, and although the complexity of both roles did not always coalesce, the effort was successful. The key issue was the method of ensuring centralized control of the entire coalition while facilitating the execution of assigned tasks by national elements using their own doctrines and procedures. General Cosgrove alleviated this problem by employing coalition operating regions (Ballard, 2001).

3. Parallel Command

The second type of command structure is the parallel command model, in which two or more multinational headquarters exist with their respective subordinated coalition forces, but no single force commander is designated (Lescoutre, 2003). The member nations retain control of their own forces, and command responsibilities are shared (Lescoutre, 2003). The parallel multinational headquarters achieve unity of effort through the formation of a 24-hour Coalition Coordination, Communications, and Integration

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Center (C3IC) (Lescoutre, 2003). The functions of the center are to coordinate the various activities between the multinational headquarters; to communicate and disseminate the various orders and transmissions (including translation from one language to another); to act as the focal point for force sustainment, host nation support and movement control; and to integrate the coalition forces in terms of doctrine, training, and strategies (Lescoutre, 2003). Staff elements from each coalition member are represented in the C3IC 003).

A recent example of parallel command structure is the coalition operation in the Persian Gulf War

(Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm), in which Western coalition forces came under the control of a US force commander (General Schwarzkopf), and the Arab and Muslim coalition forces came under the control of a Saudi force commander (General Khaled Bin Sultan) (Lescoutre, 2003). In Operation Desert Storm, coalition effectiveness was an early priority and the military commanders understood that a structure had to be developed that incorporated each national contribution in a way that maximized its effectiveness and minimized its limitations (Ballard, 2001). Both force commanders recognized the diversity of the cultures involved in the coalition and judiciously selected a parallel command structure for their respective multinational operations (Lescoutre, 2003). As suggested above, the spirit of cooperation and mutual support between the two multinational headquarters was due in large part to the existence of the coordination center – the C3IC – which facilitated the combined planning process and improved the everyday integration of coalition operations (Lescoutre, 2003). Although the C3IC cell did not have command authority or a direct role in the campaign planning process, it was particularly efficient at integrating the efforts of the two major partners (or “lead nations”)9 in the coalition into a unity of effort, through the assignment of missions that were consistent with political restrictions, military requirements, and force capabilities (Barabé, 1999). Without usurping the power of the two multinational headquarters, the C3IC provided the linkage that contributed to the success of the coalition, and proved critical to the success of Operation Desert Storm (Lescoutre, 2003)

Furthermore, the personal rapport, dialogue, and good working relationship between General

Schwarzkopf and General Khaled Bin Sultan were all instrumental in resolving any cultural issues that surfaced during the conflict (Lescoutre, 2003). Indeed, there were vast cultural differences in the coalition as reflected in national traditions, language, religions (Islam vs. non-Islam), class (officers vs. soldiers), gender roles, discipline, cultural tolerances (e.g., between Arab and non-Arab states), the issue of “saving face,” discomfort with outsiders, and standards of living (Western vs. Middle Eastern) (Lescoutre, 2003; Wheatley & Buck, 1999). Due to his personal knowledge of Middle Eastern culture, and the input of foreign assistance officers, General Schwarzkopf understood that the coalition’s efforts against Iraq were extremely vulnerable to cultural sensitivities, and therefore he made sure to foster cross-cultural interaction throughout the campaign (Dickinson, 2004). In addition, the use of culturally aware liaison teams in the parallel headquarters also contributed to the success of the parallel command structure (Dickinson, 2004). In short, the recognition and accommodation of Arab cultural differences were essential in gaining consensus and maintaining cohesion within the coalition. Although General Khaled bin Sultan recognized that the US would make the ultimate command decisions, the parallel command structure assured Saudi Arabia the retention of its sovereignty as well as its religion, culture, and traditions, and enabled the coalition to exercise a united front (Lescoutre, 2003). 3.4.2.3 Integrated Command

A third type of command structure, which is not as widely recognized in the doctrine as the other two, is the integrated coalition command structure (Lescoutre, 2003). This type of structure is present when all coalition members participate equally in the operation and are represented in the command headquarters to assist the force commander, who is usually selected amongst the contributing nations, in making decisions

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(Lescoutre, 2003). Good examples of such command structures can be seen in many UN sponsored operations such as UNPROFOR in the former Republic of Yugoslavia and UNAMIR in Rwanda. However, Durell-Young (1997) suggests that there may be some disadvantages with this type of command structure, in the areas of level of experience, staff training, and integration. For these reasons, Durell- Young (1997) believes that an integrated command structure for high intensity operations may be inappropriate. This might partially explain some of the breakdown in the command structure that occurred during the Chapter 7 United Nations Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM II) (Lescoutre, 2003).

Durell-Young (1997) further argues that it would make little sense to establish universally applicable

guiding principles for the selection of command structures. Rather, it may make more sense to identify the strengths and weaknesses that may arise when selecting an appropriate structure (e.g., an integrated coalition command may provide the most political advantages; a lead nation structure can respond quickly). According to Durell-Young (1997), however, the parallel command structure that was implemented in Operation Desert Storm (the US and Arab/Muslim forces each had their own separate chains of command) may have been successful in part because of the presence of a lead nation (the US). In other words, and somewhat ironically, a parallel structure without an explicit or implicit lead nation may not be able to develop and maintain an essential unity of purpose in the conduct of operations, which is so important to mission success (Durell-Young, 1997).

Similarly, in analyzing multinational command and control arrangements since World War II

(including Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm, operations in Somalia, Haiti, Southwest Asia, and Eastern Europe), Ballard (2001) concludes that one key to success in multinational military operations is to maintain a focus on developing operational cohesion and unity of purpose. Where a combined staff can be used, overall coalition effectiveness increases. When the differences within a coalition are dominant, some version of the parallel structure may be the most useful (see also Lescoutre, 2003; but cf. Durell-Young, 1997). Other important keys to coalition success include developing and empowering coordination cells; ensuring that national commitments match command authority and staff representation; and including joint boards, component commanders, decentralized operations, flexible boundaries for joint fires, and the synchronization of air, land, and sea (Ballard, 2001). Each of these command tools has the potential to assist in the development and effectiveness of complex, intercultural coalition operations (Ballard, 2001).

3.5 RECOMMENDATIONS FOR MULTINATIONAL MILITARY LEADERSHIP TRAINING AND DEVELOPMENT

Given the increasing frequency and complexity of multinational military operations, it is necessary to consider strategies for dealing with the cultural differences that arise in relations with multinational military forces (or other non-military organizations, such as international relief agencies and non-governmental organizations), and to identify the specific training requirements of multinational military leaders and operations (Gurstein, 1999; Winslow, Kammhuber, & Soeters, 2003). Indeed, the focus on education and training to overcome cultural differences and historical biases will pay dividends, both within the coalition and within the countries in which the coalition will conduct operations (Bowman, 1997). Below is a discussion of training strategies for developing effective multinational military leaders, followed by a discussion of general strategies for developing effective intercultural military operations and teams. 3.5.1 Training and Development for Multinational Military Leaders

As discussed earlier, it is the task of the operational commander to successfully integrate all of the diverse contingents of a multinational military force in order to ensure its overall cohesiveness and effectiveness (Plante, 1998). Potts (2004) suggests that one way of developing leaders for this task would

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be to establish a world class institution to develop commanders and senior staff for multinational appointments. Recognizing the complexity inherent in leading a multinational force, the US military has identified a number of key points that the operational commander must address (Plante, 1998). The US doctrine on the subject, as articulated in FM 100-23, states that the effectiveness of multinational operations will be improved by:

Establishing rapport and harmony among senior multinational commanders. The keys are respect, trust, and the ability to compromise. The result will be successful teamwork and unity of effort. Similarly, Potts (2004) suggests that a common understanding of doctrine and procedures (co-operability) can also be developed through good working relationships within a coalition and through training. Respecting multinational partners and their ideas, culture, and customs. Such respect (consideration and acceptance) shows each partner’s importance to the alliance or coalition. Assigning missions appropriate to each multinational partner’s capabilities. Multinational partners’ opinions should be sought during the planning process. National honour and prestige may significantly impact mission assignment. It must be ascertained that multinational partners have the necessary resources to accomplish their assigned missions. Cross levelling among partners may be required. Ensuring concerted action though liaison centers. For example, the ability to communicate in a partner’s native language is important because it enhances and facilitates liaison. Enabling all partners to operate together in the most effective manner and to make the most efficient and economical use of resources. Standardization agreements are the result of rationalization, standardization, and interoperability efforts in alliances. These agreements may be appropriate for rapid adoption by coalitions. Ensuring all multinational members’ efforts are focused on a common goal to produce unity of effort. Knowing and understanding the capabilities of multinational partners as well as or better than you know the belligerent parties, from movement and manoeuvres to logistical support.

In a similar vein, Gillespie (2002) offers suggestions to educate and prepare officers in the skills needed to deal with national and cultural frictions, and recommends tools for achieving unity of effort (and command) in modern coalition contexts (cf. Davis, 2000a). In particular, Gillespie (2002) describes the following as important elements of a coalition leader’s toolbox:

Education. Leaders must have the knowledge of their own position in the operational level of warfare

and of the conflicts that arise in building a multicultural force. Foreign language and foreign cultural training should be a priority for selected personnel. Schools like the Pearson Peacekeeping Center11 should be offered as well as other international schools12 and courses in order to establish a human database that can be drawn upon in the future. Generic intercultural issues in multinational military operations should be included in officer training syllabi, supplemented by nation-specific information just prior to operations or exercises (Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). However, all personnel who are likely to be involved in multinational operations must be made aware of cultural issues that may affect interoperability. Thus, crosscultural training and instruction should be given to all troops prior to deployment.

Liaison Officers. The use of officers with multicultural knowledge or experience (e.g., officers who are

themselves visible or cultural minorities within their own nation), as a source of expertise in this area should be considered as there is a wealth of knowledge in them that sits largely untapped. This tool can be invaluable in overcoming perceived frictions (Gillespie, 2002).

Training. Multinational training opportunities must be explored as a method of understanding potential

partnership issues. There must be agreements between countries to allow selected personnel to be assigned to different armies and to understand the complexities between forces so that, when operations actually begin, there is a capability established between forces in that they have experience in working together. As

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Bowman (1997) argues, the more personnel available who are experienced in the cultures of various coalition partners, the smoother the coalition operations will be. Similarly, multinational planning exercises could significantly improve initial operational responses to emerging crises. Such training exercises will help to overcome the initial confusion of coalition operations and cultural problems by identifying them in a training situation before an actual crisis occurs (Bowman, 1997). Multinational immersion training, in which roleplays of operations with various nationalities are conducted, has also been recommended (see Stewart, Cremin, et al., 2004).

Similar in intent to the above recommendations, Graen and Hui (1999) have proposed a comprehensive

global training model to prepare leaders for global leadership. This global training model, which may be applied to leaders of multinational military operations, involves:

Transcultural skill development, Third culture making skills, Cross-cultural creative problem solving skills, and Ethical skills.

Transculturals, as eluded to previously, are those who grow beyond their own cultural socialization so that they can understand different cultures with minimal biases, make valid cross-cultural judgements, and develop cross-cultural partnerships (see also Elron et al., 2003). Those with third culture skills are those who can use cross-cultural partners to understand, reconcile, and transcend systematic cultural differences and build a third culture (such as a global or common military culture) in which both cultures can cooperate (see Elron et al., 1999). Third cultures involve the bridging and transcending of two or more cultures. In bridging cultural differences, third cultures involve ways to bring compromises between the different cultural practices. When bridging cultural differences, cross-cultural partners find ways to come up with organizational practices and management techniques and programs that are acceptable to members of each culture. Those with multinational creative problem solving skills are those who can mediate and negotiate multinational interests in a creative problem solving context. Those with ethical skills are those who can understand multinational ethical conflicts and have the means to deal with them. Graen and Hui (1999) propose that training involving these four skills should continue throughout the career for both individual leaders and teams. As Bowman (1997) suggests, the education of officers and noncommissioned officers will help change perceptions and stereotypes concerning the roles and abilities of other nations, and thus will play a critical role in the leadership of change.

3.5.2 Training and Development of Multinational Military Teams

In addition to intercultural training and development for individual leaders, commanders should also develop intercultural awareness among their soldiers and officers – in effect, their teams (Winslow et al., 2003). Towards this end of sharing expertise, commanders must establish a training and development program to close any critical gaps that have been identified, and must also develop multilingual standard operating procedures, cultural awareness training, staff training at the headquarters level, and education in a basic code of ethics (Plante, 1998). The UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations, for example, has been developing training programs and regular pre-deployment inspections to improve the overall quality of the troops deployed. Once a commander knows the strengths and weaknesses of their troops, they are in a much better position to develop an appropriate training program (Plante, 1998). For UN peacekeepers, for instance, such training may include an understanding of the broader global political context of peacekeeping, recognition of the diversity of national interests that must be accommodated within a multilateral peacekeeping mandate, and a set of materials and standards that articulate broad ethical standards and codes of conduct (see Gurstein, 1999). Commanders must also create awareness of the benefits of diversity through both words

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and actions (Winslow et al., 2003). In the context of multinational operations, commanders should stress the joint character of the mission as the superordinate goal for everyone involved in order to achieve a unity of effort. Commanders should emphasize the equal status of all groups involved in the operation, and if necessary, boost the status of any low status groups (see also Soeters & Bos-Bakx, 2003; and Soeters & Recht, 2001). Commanders should make decisions so that members of every group can maintain their dignity without loss of face. Such principles of intergroup relations can be complemented by policies that enhance intercultural encounters, such as concrete collaboration with diverse groups and preparation before deployment, and should be integrated into the whole training period before deployment. For these tasks, commanders must carry the primary responsibility.

It is also important for commanders to introduce diversity training with some urgency and strength (Winslow et al., 2003). In many countries, participation in diversity training is voluntary; this sends the message that diversity training is relatively unimportant. Thus, according to Winslow et al. (2003), diversity training should be mandatory. If this mandatory approach elicits some resistance, then it is important for senior leadership to clarify the reasons for the diversity policy. Indeed, leadership support is extremely important for the implementation of diversity policy and is critical to the initiation of intercultural competence. Further, official statements about the importance of diversity policy must be followed through with its actual implementation (Winslow et al., 2003)

Elron et al. (1999) have identified a number of “integrating conditions” and “integrating mechanisms” for understanding how multinational military forces are able to establish cohesion and function effectively much of the time – without fighting each other. The integrating conditions include: a common military culture (based on the notion of a military profession, maintained through national training institutions that are open to the militaries of different nations); bureaucratic controls and structural similarity among different national forces; integrative missions (with superordinate goals or objectives such as “peace” or “international justice”); shared conditions and experiences (such as the integrating effects of uncertainty or danger and of “foreignness” or being far away from home); the temporariness of the system (e.g., multinational forces may be more tolerant or understanding of one another because they know that this is only required of them for a limited period of time); and a high level of cultural diversity (paradoxically, a very high level of cultural diversity may ease communication and coordination problems by facilitating the formation of a “hybrid” organizational culture that provides a common sense of identity for each participant). In addition to such integrating conditions, the following integrating mechanisms may offset the potentially negative effects of cultural diversity: joint or combined operations and training (e.g., joint exercises provide a means of sharing military values and an opportunity for achieving cooperation); cross- cultural training (pre-deployment); an internal division of labour among national units in ways that minimize the need for coordination and the opportunities for friction; formal coordinating mechanisms (i.e., structures at the top of the command framework in the form of diverse headquarters representing all participating countries); information flows and the sharing of knowledge (knowledge management); and leadership and deliberate cohesion building activities (see also Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). As Elron et al. (1999) and others have pointed out, commanders of multinational forces must constantly engage in efforts to create distinctive identities and internal cohesion, and in short, to create a team-oriented, cooperative environment. Leaders must therefore articulate a unifying vision and institute a range of educational, cultural, and sport activities designed to introduce national cultures to each other and create a common esprit de corps.16 3.5.3 Training for a Multinational, Intercultural Military Context: Additional Tools and Technologies

Besides cultural awareness and diversity training programs, analysts have also identified other

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strategies for dealing with intercultural issues in multinational military operations. As discussed earlier, the use of liaison officers, who are well versed in the cultures of the countries involved, offers one possible strategy (Gillespie, 2002). The US military, for instance, recognizing the importance of these types of personnel, have a system of Foreign Assistance Officers (FAO) who, based on language testing, are posted to different countries (Gillespie, 2002; see also Dickinson, 2004). After initial selection and a 2-year course, including basic language training, they live in these countries where they interact with the national military leaders and act as advisors to the host nation (Dickinson, 2004; Gillespie, 2002). A result of this program is that FAOs become totally immersed in the culture of the people, and in effect, become advisors on culture (Gillespie, 2002). They become a conduit back to the US regarding what the country expects and the potential pitfalls that may be encountered (Gillespie, 2002). FAOs are now an integral part of the US Forces and the advice given by these personnel – which constitutes, essentially, a human database on various cultures – is utilized in the planning and conduct of operations. The system is designed to produce an in-house capability that provides the US military with cultural and linguistic expertise in every region of the globe (Dickinson, 2004). Other countries, such as Canada, are also developing this capacity.

In terms of training for successful coalitions, experience has shown that headquarters elements, whether existing multinational headquarters or a national headquarters that has been designated to assume a lead nation role in a future coalition operation, require additional preparation in order to command coalition operations. In addition to enhanced communications and augmented language capabilities, specific mission training is necessary. Much of this training can be done in advance through the use of command post and computer-assisted exercises and workshops and seminars for key personnel. Distance learning techniques may also enhance training and education of individuals and units, and training in public affairs and civil military operations can be added to this package. Once again, the main advantage of field training exercises between national forces is that cultural and historical differences between nations may decrease greatly after working together (Bowman, 1997; see also Barabé, 1999).

Klein et al. (2000) argue that understanding national differences through the use of the cultural lens can improve the command and control effectiveness of coalition operations (see also Klein, 2005; and Masakowski, Chapter 7). The cultural lens can allow for more effective training of military personnel entering multinational military operations, and it can inform the design of decision support systems so that they can accommodate differences in reasoning, judgement, and power structure. Although it may seem impractical to develop a cultural lens for every ethnic group in every country that exists, Klein et al. (2000) argue that it is possible to identify a small, usable set of dimensions (e.g., power distance, dialectical reasoning, counterfactual thinking, risk assessment and uncertainty management, activity orientation, and independence/dependence) that reflect the diversity of how people think, make, decisions, and assess risk. In terms of training, for example, programs developed by the North Carolina Center for World Languages and Cultures and by Human Resources Research Organization (HumRRO) provide US forces with information about cultures around the world. Such programs have been particularly useful for negotiators, business people, and Peace Corps volunteers involved in face-to-face interactions. Klein et al. (2000) further argue that in distributed teams, it is particularly important for team members to understand cognitive differences that may affect coordination and decision making. Training programs must prepare military personnel to understand the clusters of cultural dimensions so that they may develop common ground and thus increase the effectiveness of multinational military operations (Klein et al., 2000). Similarly, decision support systems must help distributed teams sustain common ground, through models and simulations that include national culture factors. Importantly, such capabilities would expand a commander’s ability to anticipate and react to challenging situations (Klein et al.)

In a similar vein, Bowman and Pierce (2003) suggest that an understanding of how culture affects

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teamwork has provided critical information for the development of training tools to help leaders and teams overcome cultural barriers. Bowman and Pierce identify two training tools that have been developed. The first is a communication skills training tool that can help individuals to develop understanding and tolerance of culturally diverse cognitive styles. The second is a web-based decision game designed to provide information and situational awareness of cultural differences in cognition. Both tools will have application before, upon arrival, and throughout the period of deployment and will be available to US and other leaders and teams, thereby creating opportunities for national and multinational team building.18 With increasing emphasis being placed on interoperability of systems between coalition partners, Bowman and Pierce (2003) suggest that this project will provide a foundation for continued linkages between nations in technology and human systems.

Finally, some further recommendations regarding language training in the context of multinational military operations should be mentioned. In addition to language training, dictionaries of common terms must be developed and distributed, including logistical and tactical terms (Marshall et al., 1997). As mentioned earlier, acronyms and abbreviations should be avoided in order to ensure a clear understanding of terms within a coalition, and operational and logistic plans and orders should be written in greater detail and clarity to avoid misunderstandings (Bowman, 1997). Once again, it is recommended that native English speakers are able to speak other languages, in order to build mutual understanding and respect (Potts, 2004; Bowman, 1997; Stewart, et al., 2004), and that they speak slowly and avoid colloquialisms (Bowman & Pierce, 2003).

In summary, as the composition of multinational military operations becomes more diverse, the need for

leaders to bring groups of different cultures together to function as a unit becomes more crucial (Graen & Hui, 1999). Thorough preparation and training is vital if commanders are to be culturally aware and sensitive, patient, adaptive, and tolerant (Soeters et al., 2004). In general, all personnel who are deployed in multinational military coalitions should have thorough training in the cultural aspects of their work. Attention must be paid to the cultural characteristics of both the coalition partners and the local population. Steps taken to develop common operating procedures, to train together, and to educate future leaders will help ensure that future coalitions successfully accomplish their assigned mission (Bowman, 1997). 3.6 CONCLUSION

Multinational coalitions will become more prevalent in the future as nations seek alternate methods of resolving conflict (Davis, 2000a). With the increasing complexity of such coalitions, and with new partners, future coalition commanders will face a myriad of challenges, including the integration of culturally diverse groups and the establishment of an effective command and control structure (Davis, 2000a). This environment will demand a greater range of leadership skills and competencies, the ability to overcome cultural barriers to effective teamwork (such as cultural differences in power distance and decision making), and an ability to lead within various command structures. Leaders must recognize that both national interests and cultural factors will influence the setting of coalition goals and objectives, place constraints on the coalition force, and determine a nation’s contribution in terms of organization, capability, and command authority (Davis, 2000a). Through the development of intercultural leadership skills, innovative command structures, and thorough coordination, liaison, and cooperation, both political interests and cultural diversity in coalition operations can be addressed, and cultural diversity in Multinational military operations can be used effectively as a positive resource (Davis, 2000a).

As discussed in this chapter, the focus in multinational military operations must be toward achieving unity of purpose, as opposed to unity of doctrine or command (Davis, 2000a). To achieve unity of purpose, operational level commanders must develop mutual confidence amongst the military leadership of the

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coalition partners to ensure that a balance is struck between competing political and military interests and to ensure that cultural issues are addressed (Davis, 2000a). Indeed, of the intangibles of coalitions’ command and control matters, mutual confidence and trust between partners may be the most important consideration. Being able to trust is essential to unity of effort, much more so in the case of nonconventional operations in which the commander must blend the skills of culturally diverse national contingents so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (Barabé, 1999). More research is needed, however, to examine the issue of trust and reliability in a multicultural environment (Graen & Hui, 1999).

Doctrine publications and professional military education curricula must reflect the political and

intercultural realities of coalition operations to ensure that future leaders can meet the challenges of coalition command (Davis, 2000a). This education and training must include diversity training for both leaders and teams. Although the development of multinational command structures has been aided by new doctrines and by the exchange of lessons learned in operations (e.g., see Ballard, 2001), it will remain a challenge as long as national groups do not share a common vision of the desired objectives for a given operation, and intercultural factors are in play. International organizations such as the UN have contributed to the development of international consensus regarding objectives and vision, but more work in the education and training of multinational military leaders and teams, particularly in terms of cultural diversity, is needed. As Ballard (2001) suggests, the ground is fertile for further investigation, as multinational responses are needed to deal with an ever shrinking and increasingly interlinked world.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading D Dimensionalizing Cultures: The Hofstede Model in Context

Author: Geert Hofstede Dimensionalizing Cultures: The Hofstede Model in Context This article describes briefly the Hofstede model of six dimensions of national cultures: Power Distance, Uncertainty Avoidance, Individualism/Collectivism, Masculinity/Femininity, Long/Short Term Orientation, and Indulgence/Restraint. It shows the conceptual and research efforts that preceded it and led up to it, and once it had become a paradigm for comparing cultures, research efforts that followed and built on it. The article stresses that dimensions depend on the level of aggregation; it describes the six entirely different dimensions found in the Hofstede et al. (2010) research into organizational cultures. It warns against confusion with value differences at the individual level. It concludes with a look ahead in what the study of dimensions of national cultures and the position of countries on them may still bring.

Introduction Culture has been defined in many ways; this author’s shorthand definition is: "Culture is the collective programming of the mind that distinguishes the members of one group or category of people from others". It is always a collective phenomenon, but it can be connected to different collectives. Within each collective there is a variety of individuals. If characteristics of individuals are imagined as varying according to some bell curve; the variation between cultures is the shift of the bell curve when one moves from one society to the other. Most commonly the term culture is used for tribes or ethnic groups (in anthropology), for nations (in political science, sociology and management), and for organizations (in sociology and management). A relatively unexplored field is the culture of occupations (for instance, of engineers versus accountants, or of academics from different disciplines). The term can also be applied to the genders, to generations, or to social classes. However, changing the level of aggregation studied changes the nature of the concept of ‘culture’. Societal, national and gender cultures, which children acquire from their earliest youth onwards, are much deeper rooted in the human mind than occupational cultures acquired at school, or than organizational cultures acquired on the job. The latter are exchangeable when people take a new job. Societal cultures reside in (often unconscious) values, in the sense of broad tendencies to prefer certain states of affairs over others (Hofstede, 2001, p. 5). Organizational cultures reside rather in (visible and conscious) practices: the way people perceive what goes on in their organizational environment.

Classifying Cultures: Conceptual Dimensions In an article first published in 1952, U.S. anthropologist Clyde Kluckhohn (1962) argued that there should be universal categories of culture: In principle ... there is a generalized framework that underlies the more apparent and striking facts of cultural relativity. All cultures constitute so many somewhat distinct answers to essentially the same questions posed by human biology and by the generalities of the

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human situation. ... Every society's patterns for living must provide approved and sanctioned ways for dealing with such universal circumstances as the existence of two sexes; the helplessness of infants; the need for satisfaction of the elementary biological requirements such as food, warmth, and sex; the presence of individuals of different ages and of differing physical and other capacities. (pp. 317-18).

Many authors in the second half of the twentieth century have speculated about the nature of the basic problems of societies that would present distinct dimensions of culture (for a review see Hofstede, 2001, pp. 29-31). The most common dimension used for ordering societies is their degree of economic evolution or modernity. A one-dimensional ordering of societies from traditional to modern fitted well with the nineteenth- and twentieth-century belief in progress. Economic evolution is bound to be reflected in people’s collective mental programming, but there is no reason why economic and technological evolution should suppress other cultural variety. There exist dimensions of culture unrelated to economic evolution. U.S. anthropologist Edward T. Hall (1976) divided cultures according to their ways of communicating, into high-context (much of the information is implicit) and low-context cultures (nearly everything is explicit). In practice this distinction overlaps largely with the traditional versus modern distinction. U.S. sociologists Talcott Parsons and Edward Shils (1951, p. 77) suggested that all human action is determined by five pattern variables, choices between pairs of alternatives: Affectivity (need gratification) versus affective neutrality (restraint of impulses);

Self-orientation versus collectivity-orientation;

Universalism (applying general standards) versus particularism (taking particular relationships into account);

Ascription (judging others by who they are) versus achievement (judging them by what they do);

Specificity (limiting relations to others to specific spheres) versus diffuseness (no prior limitations to nature of relations). Parsons and Shils (1951) claimed that these choices are present at the individual (personality) level, at the social system (group or organization) level, and at the cultural (normative) level. They did not take into account that different variables could operate at different aggregation levels. U.S. anthropologists Florence Kluckhohn and Fred Strodtbeck (1961, p. 12) ran a field study in five geographically close, small communities in the Southwestern United States: Mormons, Spanish Americans, Texans, Navaho Indians, and Zuni Indians. They distinguished these communities on the following value orientations: An evaluation of human nature (evil - mixed - good); The relationship of man to the surrounding natural environment (subjugation - harmony - mastery); The orientation in time (toward past - present - future);

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The orientation toward activity (being - being in becoming - doing); and Relationships among people (linearity, i.e., hierarchically ordered positions – collaterality, i.e., group relationships – individualism). Others have extrapolated Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck’s (1961) classification to all kind of social comparisons, without concern for their geographic limitations without considering the effect of levels of aggregation, and without empirical support. British anthropologist Mary Douglas (1973) proposed a two-dimensional ordering of ways of looking at the world: ‘Group’ or inclusion - the claim of groups over members, and ‘Grid’ or classification - the degree to which interaction is subject to rules. Douglas saw these categories as relating to a wide variety of beliefs and social actions: Views of nature, traveling, spatial arrangements, gardening, cookery, medicine, the meaning of time, age, history, sickness, and justice. She seemed to imply that these dimensions are applicable to any level of aggregation. The one- or more-dimensional classifications above represent subjective reflective attempts to order a complex reality. Each of them is strongly colored by the subjective choices of its author(s). They show some overlap, but their lack of clarity about and mixing of levels of analysis (individual-group-culture) are severe methodological weaknesses. These weaknesses were avoided in an extensive review article by U.S. sociologist Alex Inkeles and psychologist Daniel Levinson (1969, first published 1954). The authors limited themselves to culture at the level of nations, and they summarized all available sociological and anthropological studies dealing with what was then called national character, which they interpreted as a kind of modal (most common) personality type in a national society. What I have labelled dimensions they called standard analytic issues. From their survey of the literature Inkeles and Levinson (1969) distilled three standard analytic issues that met these criteria: Relation to authority; Conception of self, including the individual's concepts of masculinity and femininity; Primary dilemmas or conflicts, and ways of dealing with them, including the control of aggression and the expression versus inhibition of affect. As will be shown below, Inkeles and Levinson's (1969) standard analytic issues were empirically supported in a study by this author more than 20 years later. Empirical Approaches and the Hofstede Dimensions In 1949 U.S. psychologist Raymond Cattell published an application of the new statistical technique of factor analysis to the comparison of nations. Cattell had earlier used factor analysis for studying aspects of intelligence from test scores of individual students. This time he took a matrix of nation-level

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variables for a large number of countries, borrowing from geography, demographics, history, politics, economics, sociology, law, religion and medicine. The resulting factors were difficult to interpret, except for the important role of economic development. Replications of his method by others produced trivial results (for a review see Hofstede, 2001, pp. 32-33). More meaningful were applications to restricted facets of societies. U.S. political scientists Phillip Gregg and Arthur Banks (1965) studied aspects of political systems; U.S. economists Irma Adelman and Cynthia Taft Morris (1967) studied factors influencing the development of poor countries, and Irish psychologist Richard Lynn (1971; Lynn & Hampson, 1975) studied aspects of mental health. In the 1970s this author – more or less by accident – got access to a large survey database about values and related sentiments of people in over 50 countries around the world (Hofstede, 1980). These people worked in the local subsidiaries of one large multinational corporation: IBM. Most parts of the organization had been surveyed twice over a four-year interval, and the database contained more than 100,000 questionnaires. Initial analyses of the database at the level of individual respondents proved confusing, but a breakthrough occurred when the focus was directed at correlations between mean scores of survey items at the level of countries. Patterns of correlation at the country level could be strikingly different from what was found at the individual level, and needed an entirely different interpretation. One of the weaknesses of much cross-cultural research is not recognizing the difference between analysis at the societal level and at the individual level; this amounts to confusing anthropology and psychology. From 180 studies using my work reviewed by Kirkman, Lowe, and Gibson (2006), more than half failed to distinguish between societal culture level and individual level differences, which led to numerous errors of interpretation and application. My hunch that the IBM data might have implications beyond this particular corporation was supported when I got the opportunity to administer a number of the same questions to nearly 400 management trainees from some 30 countries in an international program unrelated to IBM. Their mean scores by country correlated significantly with the country scores obtained from the IBM database. So it seemed that employees of this multinational enterprises – a very special kind of people – could serve for identifying differences in national value systems. The reason is that from one country to another they represented almost perfectly matched samples: they were similar in all respects except nationality, which made the effect of national differences in their answers stand out unusually clearly. Encouraged by the results of the country-level correlation analysis I then tried country-level factor analysis. The latter was similar to the approach used earlier by Cattell and others, except that now the variables in the matrix were not indices for the country as a whole, but mean scores and sometimes percentages of survey answers collected from individuals in those countries. Analyses of data at higher levels of aggregation are called ecological. Ecological factor analysis differs from the factor analysis of individual scores in that a usual caution no longer applies: the number of cases does not need to be (much) larger than the number of variables. The stability of the results of an ecological factor analysis does not depend on the number of cases, but on the number of individuals whose scores were aggregated into these cases. Ecological factor analysis may even be performed on matrices with fewer cases than variables.

Factor analyzing a matrix of 32 values questions for initially 40 countries, I found these values to cluster very differently from what was found at the individual level. The new factors revealed common problems with which IBM employees in all these societies had to cope, but for which their upbringing in their country presented its own profile of solutions. These problems were:

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Dependence on superiors; Need for rules and predictability, also associated with nervous stress; The balance between individual goals and dependence on the company; The balance between ego values (like the need for money and careers) and social values (like cooperation and a good living environment); the former were more frequently chosen by men, the latter by women, but there were also country differences. These empirical results were strikingly similar to the standard analytical issues described in Inkeles and Levinson’s 1969 article. Dependence on superiors relates to the first, need for predictability to the third, the balance between the individual and the company to the conception of self, and the balance between ego and social values to concepts of masculinity and femininity, which were also classified under the second standard analytic issue. The four basic problem areas defined by Inkeles and Levinson (1969) and empirically supported in the IBM data represent dimensions of national cultures. A dimension is an aspect of a culture that can be measured relative to other cultures. The four dimensions formed the basis for my book Culture’s Consequences (Hofstede, 1980). The main message of the 1980 book was that scores on the dimensions correlated significantly with conceptually related external data. Thus Power Distance scores correlated with a dimension from Gregg and Banks’ (1965) analysis of political systems and also with a dimension from Adelman and Morris’ (1967) study of economic development; Uncertainty Avoidance correlated with a dimension from Lynn and Hampson’s (1975) study of mental health; Individualism correlated strongly with national wealth (Gross National Product per capita) and Femininity with the percentage of national income spent on development aid. The number of external validations kept expanding, and the second edition of Culture’s Consequences (Hofstede, 2001, Appendix 6, pp. 503-520) lists more than 400 significant correlations between the IBM-based scores and results of other studies. Recent validations show no loss of validity, indicating that the country differences these dimensions describe are, indeed, basic and enduring. In the 1980s, on the basis of research by Canadian psychologist Michael Harris Bond centered in the Far East, a fifth dimension ‘Long-Term versus Short-Term Orientation’ was added (Hofstede & Bond, 1988; see also Hofstede, 1991; Hofstede, 2001). In the 2000s, research by Bulgarian scholar Michael Minkov using data from the World Values Survey (Minkov, 2007) allowed a new calculation of the fifth, and the addition of a sixth dimension (Hofstede, Hofstede & Minkov, 2010). The six dimensions are labelled:

Power Distance, related to the different solutions to the basic problem of human inequality; Uncertainty Avoidance, related to the level of stress in a society in the face of an unknown future; Individualism versus Collectivism, related to the integration of individuals into primary groups; Masculinity versus Femininity, related to the division of emotional roles between women and men; Long Term versus Short Term Orientation, related to the choice of focus for people's efforts: the future or the present and past. Indulgence versus Restraint, related to the gratification versus control of basic human desires related to enjoying life.

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Each country has been positioned relative to other countries through a score on each dimension. The dimensions are statistically distinct and do occur in all possible combinations, although some combinations are more frequent than others. After the initial confirmation of the country differences in IBM in data from management trainees elsewhere, the Hofstede dimensions and country scores were validated through replications by others, using the same or similar questions with other cross-national populations. Between 1990 and 2002 six major replications (14 or more countries) used populations of country elites, employees and managers of other corporations and organizations, airline pilots, consumers and civil servants (see Hofstede et al., 2010, p. 35). In correlating the dimensions with other data, the influence of national wealth (Gross National Product per capita) should always be taken into account. Two of the dimensions, Individualism and small Power Distance, are significantly correlated with wealth. This means that all wealth-related phenomena tend to correlate with both these dimensions. Differences in national wealth can be considered a more parsimonious explanation of these other phenomena than differences in culture. In correlating with the culture dimensions, it is therefore advisable to always include the wealth variable. After controlling for national wealth correlations with culture usually disappear. Of particular interest is a link that was found between culture according to the Hofstede dimensions and personality dimensions according to the empirically based Big Five personality test (Costa & McCrae, 1992). After this test had been used in over 30 countries, significant correlations were found between country norms on the five personality dimensions (Neuroticism, Extraversion, Openness to experience, Agreeableness and Conscientiousness) and national culture dimension scores. For example, 55% of country differences on Neuroticism can be explained by a combination of Uncertainty Avoidance and Masculinity, and 39% of country differences on Extraversion by Individualism alone (Hofstede & McCrae, 2004). So culture and personality are linked but the link is statistical; there is a wide variety of individual personalities within each national culture, and national culture scores should not be used for stereotyping individuals. Validating the dimensions is of course not only and not even mainly a quantitative issue. Equally important is the qualitative interpretation of what differences on the dimensions mean for each of the societies studied, which calls for an emic approach to each society, supporting the etic of the dimensional data. The Hofstede Dimensions in a nutshell In this section I will summarize the content of each dimension opposing cultures with low and high scores. These oppositions are based on correlations with studies by others, and because the relationship is statistical, not every line applies equally strongly to every country. Power Distance Power Distance has been defined as the extent to which the less powerful members of organizations and institutions (like the family) accept and expect that power is distributed unequally. This represents

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inequality (more versus less), but defined from below, not from above. It suggests that a society's level of inequality is endorsed by the followers as much as by the leaders. Power and inequality, of course, are extremely fundamental facts of any society. All societies are unequal, but some are more unequal than others. Table 1 Ten Differences Between Small- and Large- Power Distance Societies

Table 1 lists a selection of differences between national societies that validation research showed to be associated with the Power Distance dimension. For a more complete review the reader is referred to Hofstede (2001) and Hofstede et al. (2010). The statements refer to extremes; actual situations may be found anywhere in between the extremes, and the association of a statement with a dimension is always statistical, never absolute. In Hofstede et al. (2010) Power Distance Index scores are listed for 76 countries; they tend to be higher for East European, Latin, Asian and African countries and lower for Germanic and English-speaking Western countries. Uncertainty Avoidance Uncertainty Avoidance is not the same as risk avoidance; it deals with a society's tolerance for ambiguity. It indicates to what extent a culture programs its members to feel either uncomfortable or comfortable in unstructured situations. Unstructured situations are novel, unknown, surprising, and different from usual. Uncertainty avoiding cultures try to minimize the possibility of such situations by strict behavioral codes, laws and rules, disapproval of deviant opinions, and a belief in absolute Truth; 'there can only be one Truth and we have it'.

Small Power Distance Use of power should be legitimate and is subject to criteria of good and evil Parents treat children as equals Older people are neither respected nor feared Student-centered education Hierarchy means inequality of roles, established for convenience Subordinates expect to be consulted Pluralist governments based on majority vote and changed peacefully Corruption rare; scandals end political careers Income distribution in society rather even Religions stressing equality of believers

Large Power Distance Power is a basic fact of society antedating good or evil: its legitimacy is irrelevant Parents teach children obedience Older people are both respected and feared Teacher-centered education Hierarchy means existential inequality Subordinates expect to be told what to do Autocratic governments based on co-optation and changed by revolution Corruption frequent; scandals are covered up Income distribution in society very uneven Religions with a hierarchy of priests

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Table 2 Ten Differences Between Weak- and Strong- Uncertainty Avoidance Societies

Research has shown that people in uncertainty avoiding countries are also more emotional, and motivated by inner nervous energy. The opposite type, uncertainty accepting cultures, are more tolerant of opinions different from what they are used to; they try to have fewer rules, and on the philosophical and religious level they are empiricist, relativist and allow different currents to flow side by side. People within these cultures are more phlegmatic and contemplative, and not expected by their environment to express emotions. Table 2 lists a selection of differences between societies that validation research showed to be associated with the Uncertainty Avoidance dimension. In Hofstede et al. (2010) Uncertainty Avoidance Index scores are listed for 76 countries; they tend to be higher in East and Central European countries, in Latin countries, in Japan and in German speaking countries, lower in English speaking, Nordic and Chinese culture countries. Individualism

Individualism on the one side versus its opposite, Collectivism, as a societal, not an individual characteristic, is the degree to which people in a society are integrated into groups. On the individualist side we find cultures in which the ties between individuals are loose: everyone is expected to look after him/herself and his/her immediate family. On the collectivist side we find cultures in which people from birth onwards are integrated into strong, cohesive in-groups, often extended families (with uncles, aunts and grandparents) that continue protecting them in exchange for unquestioning loyalty, and oppose other in-groups. Again, the issue addressed by this dimension is an extremely fundamental one, regarding all societies in the world. Table 3 lists a selection of differences between societies that validation research showed to be associated with this dimension. In Hofstede et al. (2010) Individualism Index scores are listed for 76 countries; Individualism tends to prevail in developed and Western countries, while collectivism prevails in less developed and Eastern countries; Japan takes a middle position on this dimension.

Weak Uncertainty Avoidance The uncertainty inherent in life is accepted and each day is taken as it comes Ease, lower stress, self-control, low anxiety Higher scores on subjective health and wellbeing Tolerance of deviant persons and ideas: what is different is curious Comfortable with ambiguity and chaos Teachers may say ‘I don’t know’ Changing jobs no problem Dislike of rules - written or unwritten In politics, citizens feel and are seen as competent towards authorities In religion, philosophy and science: relativism and empiricism

Strong Uncertainty Avoidance The uncertainty inherent in life is felt as a continuous threat that must be fought Higher stress, emotionality, anxiety, neuroticism Lower scores on subjective health and well-being Intolerance of deviant persons and ideas: what is different is dangerous Need for clarity and structure Teachers supposed to have all the answers Staying in jobs even if disliked Emotional need for rules – even if not obeyed In politics, citizens feel and are seen as incompetent towards authorities In religion, philosophy and science: belief in ultimate truths and grand theories

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Table 3 Ten Differences Between Collectivist and Individualist Societies Masculinity – Femininity Masculinity versus its opposite, Femininity, again as a societal, not as an individual characteristic, refers to the distribution of values between the genders which is another fundamental issue for any society, to which a range of solutions can be found. The IBM studies revealed that (a) women's values differ less among societies than men's values; (b) men's values from one country to another contain a dimension from very assertive and competitive and maximally different from women's values on the one side, to modest and caring and similar to women's values on the other. The assertive pole has been called 'masculine' and the modest, caring pole 'feminine'. The women in feminine countries have the same modest, caring values as the men; in the masculine countries they are somewhat assertive and competitive, but not as much as the men, so that these countries show a gap between men's values and women's values. In masculine cultures there is often a taboo around this dimension (Hofstede et al., 1998). Table 4 Ten Differences Between Feminine and Masculine Societies

Individualism Everyone is supposed to take care of him- or herself and his or her immediate family only "I" – consciousness Right of privacy Speaking one's mind is healthy Others classified as individuals Personal opinion expected: one person one vote Transgression of norms leads to guilt feelings Languages in which the word "I" is indispensable Purpose of education is learning how to learn Task prevails over relationship

Collectivism People are born into extended families or clans which protect them in exchange for loyalty "We" –consciousness Stress on belonging Harmony should always be maintained Others classified as in-group or out-group Opinions and votes predetermined by in-group Transgression of norms leads to shame feelings Languages in which the word "I" is avoided Purpose of education is learning how to do Relationship prevails over task

Masculinity Maximum emotional and social role differentiation between the genders Men should be and women may be assertive and ambitious Work prevails over family Admiration for the strong Fathers deal with facts, mothers with feelings Girls cry, boys don’t; boys should fight back, girls shouldn’t fight Fathers decide on family size Few women in elected political positions Religion focuses on God or gods Moralistic attitudes about sexuality; sex is a way of performing

Femininity Minimum emotional and social role differentiation between the genders Men and women should be modest and caring Balance between family and work Sympathy for the weak Both fathers and mothers deal with facts and feelings Both boys and girls may cry but neither should fight Mothers decide on number of children Many women in elected political positions Religion focuses on fellow human beings Matter-of-fact attitudes about sexuality; sex is a way of relating

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Taboos are based on deeply rooted values; this taboo shows that the Masculinity/Femininity dimension in some societies touches basic and often unconscious values, too painful to be explicitly discussed. In fact the taboo validates the importance of the dimension. Table 4 lists a selection of differences between societies that validation research showed to be associated with this dimension. In Hofstede et al. (2010) Masculinity versus Femininity Index scores are presented for 76 countries; Masculinity is high in Japan, in German speaking countries, and in some Latin countries like Italy and Mexico; it is moderately high in English speaking Western countries; it is low in Nordic countries and in the Netherlands and moderately low in some Latin and Asian countries like France, Spain, Portugal, Chile, Korea and Thailand. Long-Term vs. Short-Term Orientation This dimension was first identified in a survey among students in 23 countries around the world, using a questionnaire designed by Chinese scholars (Chinese Culture Connection, 1987). As all countries with a history of Confucianism scored near one pole which could be associated with hard work, the study’s first author Michael Harris Bond labeled the dimension Confucian Work Dynamism. The dimension turned out to be strongly correlated with recent economic growth. As none of the four IBM dimensions was linked to economic growth, I obtained Bond’s permission to add his dimension as a fifth to my four (Hofstede & Bond, 1988). Because it had been identified in a study comparing students from 23 countries, most of whom had never heard of Confucius, I re-named it Long- Term versus Short-Term Orientation; the long-term pole corresponds to Bond’s Confucian Work Dynamism. Values found at this pole were perseverance, thrift, ordering relationships by status, and having a sense of shame; values at the opposite, short term pole were reciprocating social obligations, respect for tradition, protecting one's 'face', and personal steadiness and stability. The positively rated values of this dimension were already present in the teachings of Confucius from around 500 BC. There was much more in Confucius’ teachings so Long-Term Orientation is not Confucianism per se, but it is still present in countries with a Confucian heritage. In my book for a student readership Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind (Hofstede, 1991) the fifth dimension was first integrated into my model. It was more extensively analyzed in the second edition of Culture’s Consequences (Hofstede, 2001) and in the new edition of Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind, for which my eldest son Gert Jan Hofstede joined me as a co-author (Hofstede & Hofstede, 2005). My initial cross-cultural data collected around 1970 by the IBM corporation among its employees in more than 50 countries worldwide represented probably the largest matched-sample cross-national database available anywhere at that time. Bond’s Chinese Value Survey showed the power of adding results from other surveys; unfortunately, it covered only 23 countries, and attempts to extend it to other populations were small-scale and hardly reliable. In the past quarter century the volume of available cross-cultural data on self-scored values and related issues has increased enormously. If I had to start my research now, I would select the best elements from all these new databases. My prime choice would be the World Values Survey. In the early 1980s departments of Divinity at six European Universities, concerned with a loss of Christian faith, jointly surveyed the values of their countries’ populations through public opinion survey methods. In the following years their European Values Survey expanded and changed focus: in the hands of U.S. sociologist Ronald Inglehart it grew into a periodic World Values Survey (WVS). Subsequent data

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collection rounds took place with 10-year intervals; as this is written, a fourth round is in process. The survey now covers more than 100 countries worldwide with a questionnaire including more than 360 forced-choice items. Areas covered are ecology, economy, education, emotions, family, gender and sexuality, government and politics, health, happiness, leisure and friends, morality, religion, society and nation, and work. The entire WVS data bank, including previous rounds and down to individual respondent scores, is freely accessible on the Web (www.worldvaluessurvey.org). So far it has remained underused; potential users tend to drown in its huge volume of information. Michael Minkov, a Bulgarian linguist and sociologist whom I had met on the e-mail at the turn of the millennium, took up the challenge of exploring the riches of the WVS. In 2007 he published a book with a Bulgarian publisher, in which he described three new cross-national value dimensions extracted from recent WVS data, which he labeled Exclusionism versus Universalism, Indulgence versus Restraint and Monumentalism versus Flexumility (the latter a combination of flexibility and humility). Exclusionism versus Universalism was strongly correlated with Collectivism/Individualism and could be considered an elaboration of aspects of it. The other two dimensions were new, although Monumentalism versus Flexumility was moderately but significantly correlated with Short Term/Long Term Orientation. Minkov’s findings initially inspired the issuing of a new, 2008 version of the Values Survey Module, a set of questions available to researchers who wish to replicate my research into national culture differences. Earlier versions were issued in 1982 (VSM82) and 1994 (VSM94). Next to the established five Hofstede dimensions, the VSM08 included on an experimental basis Minkov’s dimensions Indulgence versus Restraint and Monumentalism versus Flexumility (which I re-baptized Self- Effacement). The Values Survey Module (VSM) can be downloaded from www.geerthofstede.nl. Aspiring users should carefully study the accompanying Manual before they decide to collect their own data. In most cases, the use of available results of already existing quality research is to be preferred above amateur replications. The next step in our cooperation with Minkov was that Gert Jan Hofstede and I invited him to become a co-author for the third edition of Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind (Hofstede et al., 2010). Minkov’s Exclusionism versus Universalism was integrated into the Individualism/Collectivism chapter. By combining elements from his Monumentalism versus Flexumility dimension with additional WVS items, Minkov succeeded in converting into a new version of Long- versus Short-Term Orientation, now available for 93 countries and regions. Indulgence versus Restraint became an entirely new dimension that will be described below. Table 5 lists a selection of differences between societies that validation research showed to be associated with the old and new version of the Long- versus Short-Term Orientation dimension. In our 2010 book, dimension scores have been re-calculated including Minkov’s analysis of recent World Values Survey data. Long-term oriented are East Asian countries, followed by Eastern- and Central Europe. A medium term orientation is found in South- and North-European and South Asian countries. Short-term oriented are U.S.A. and Australia, Latin American, African and Muslim countries.

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Table 5 Ten Differences Between Short- and Long-Term-Oriented Societies

Indulgence versus Restraint The sixth and new dimension, added in our 2010 book, uses Minkov’s label Indulgence versus Restraint. It was also based on recent World Values Survey items and is more or less complementary to Long-versus Short-Term Orientation; in fact it is weakly negatively correlated with it. It focuses on aspects not covered by the other five dimensions, but known from literature on “happiness research”. Indulgence stands for a society that allows relatively free gratification of basic and natural human desires related to enjoying life and having fun. Restraint stands for a society that controls gratification of needs and regulates it by means of strict social norms. Scores on this dimension are also available for 93 countries and regions. Table 6 lists a selection of differences between societies that validation research showed to be associated with this dimension. Indulgence tends to prevail in South and North America, in Western Europe and in parts of Sub-Sahara Africa. Restraint prevails in Eastern Europe, in Asia and in the Muslim world. Mediterranean Europe takes a middle position on this dimension. Table 6 Ten Differences between Indulgent and Restrained Societies

Short-Term Orientation Most important events in life occurred in the past or take place now Personal steadiness and stability: a good person is always the same There are universal guidelines about what is good and evil Traditions are sacrosanct Family life guided by imperatives Supposed to be proud of one’s country Service to others is an important goal Social spending and consumption Students attribute success and failure to luck Slow or no economic growth of poor countries

Long-Term Orientation Most important events in life will occur in the future A good person adapts to the circumstances What is good and evil depends upon the circumstances Traditions are adaptable to changed circumstances Family life guided by shared tasks Trying to learn from other countries Thrift and perseverance are important goals Large savings quote, funds available for investment Students attribute success to effort and failure to lack of effort Fast economic growth of countries up till a level of prosperity

Indulgence Higher percentage of people declaring themselves very happy A perception of personal life control Freedom of speech seen as important Higher importance of leisure More likely to remember positive emotions In countries with educated populations, higher birthrates More people actively involved in sports In countries with enough food, higher percentages of obese people In wealthy countries, lenient sexual norms Maintaining order in the nation is not given a high priority

Restrained Fewer very happy people A perception of helplessness: what happens to me is not my own doing Freedom of speech is not a primary concern Lower importance of leisure Less likely to remember positive emotions In countries with educated populations, lower birthrates Fewer people actively involved in sports In countries with enough food, fewer obese people In wealthy countries, stricter sexual norms Higher number of police officers per 100,000 population

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Other Applications of the Dimensional Paradigm When Culture’s Consequences appeared in 1980, it represented a new paradigm in social science research: analyzing survey-based values data at the national level and quantifying differences between national cultures by positions on these dimensions. Like other new paradigms, it initially met with rejection, criticism and ridicule next to enthusiasm (Kuhn, 1970). By the 1990s the paradigm had been taken over by many others, and discussions shifted to the content and number of dimensions. The paradigm inspired a number of other studies into dimensions of national cultures. Many projects further explored the dimension of individualism versus collectivism (e.g. Kim et al., 1994; Hofstede, 2001, ch. 5; Triandis, 1995). From all the Hofstede dimensions, this one met with the most positive reactions among psychologists, especially in the U.S.A. which happened to be the highest scoring country on it. Individualism/Collectivism scores were strongly correlated with national wealth which led some people to the conclusion that promoting individualism in other cultures would contribute to their economic development. In fact, data show that the causality is most probably reversed: wealth tends to lead to individualism (Hofstede, 2001, p. 253). The individualism in U.S. culture also led people to studying it at the individual level (comparing one person to another), not at the level of societies. In this case it is no longer a dimension of culture but an aspect of personality. Also there is no more reason why individualism and collectivism need to be opposite; they should rather be considered separate features of personality. An extensive review of studies of individualism at the individual level was published by Oyserman, Coon and Kemmelmeier (2002). Comparing these studies across societies they found a different ranking of countries from the Hofstede studies; but Schimmack, Oishi and Diener (2005) proved this was due to a methodological error: Oyserman et al. (2002) forgot to control for acquiescence (response set), and the acquiescence in their data was significantly negatively correlated with the object of their study which made their results random. The cultural focus on the Individualism versus Collectivism dimension led Triandis (1995) to splitting it into horizontal and vertical individualism. This split overlooks the fact that the Hofstede dimension of large versus small Power Distance already covered the horizontal/vertical aspect quite satisfactorily. From my point of view the horizontal/ vertical distinction for Ind/Col as a dimension of culture is redundant. It may be useful at the individual level, but this is for others to decide. Like individualism and collectivism, the terms masculinity and femininity have also been used for describing values at the individual level. Earlier studies by U.S. psychologist Sandra Bem (1974) showed already that in this case masculinity and femininity should again rather be treated as separate aspects than as opposite poles. An important alternative application of the dimensional paradigm was developed by the Israeli psychologist Shalom Schwartz. Borrowing mainly from the work of U.S. psychologist Milton Rokeach (1972, 1973) who studied values of U.S. individuals, Schwartz composed a list of 56 values. Through a network of colleagues he collected scores from samples of elementary school teachers and of college students in over 50 countries. (Schwartz, 1994; Schwartz & Bardi, 2001). Respondents scored the importance of each value “as a guiding principle in my life”. Schwartz at first assumed the same dimensions would apply to individuals and to countries, but his data showed he needed different classifications at different levels. At the country level he distinguished seven dimensions: Conservatism

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(later rebaptized “Embeddedness”), Hierarchy, Mastery, Affective autonomy, Intellectual autonomy, Egalitarianism and Harmony. Country scores for teachers published by Schwartz in 1994 were significantly correlated with the IBM scores for Individualism, Masculinity and Uncertainty Avoidance (Hofstede, 2001, p. 265). Another large scale application was the GLOBE (Global Leadership and Organizational Behaviour Effectiveness) project, conceived by US management scholar Robert J. House in 1991. At first House focused on leadership, but soon the study branched out into other aspects of national and organizational cultures. In the period 19941997 some 170 voluntary collaborators collected data from about 17,000 managers in nearly 1,000 local (non-multinational) organizations belonging to one of three industries: food processing, financial services, and telecommunication services, in some 60 societies throughout the world. In the preface to the book describing the project (House et al., 2004), House writes "We have a very adequate dataset to replicate Hofstede’s (1980) landmark study and extend that study to test hypotheses relevant to relationships among societal level variables, organizational practices, and leader attributes and behavior".

For conceptual reasons GLOBE expanded the five Hofstede dimensions to nine. They maintained the labels Power Distance and Uncertainty Avoidance (but not necessarily their meaning). They split Collectivism into Institutional Collectivism and InGroup Collectivism, and Masculinity-Femininity into Assertiveness and Gender Egalitarianism. Long Term Orientation became Future Orientation. They added two more dimensions: Humane Orientation and Performance Orientation. The nine dimensions were covered by 78 survey questions, half of them asking respondents to describe their culture (‘as is’) and the other half to judge it (‘should be’). GLOBE thus produced 9 x 2 = 18 culture scores for each country: nine dimensions ‘as is’ and nine dimensions ‘should be’. In an evaluation of the GLOBE project (Hofstede, 2006), I re-factor analyzed the country scores on GLOBE’s 18 dimensions. Five meta-factors emerged, of which the strongest, grouping seven of the 18 measures, was highly significantly correlated with GNP per capita and next with the Hofstede Power Distance dimension. Three more metafactors were significantly correlated with respectively the Hofstede Uncertainty Avoidance, Individualism and Long Term Orientation dimensions. The GLOBE questionnaire contained very few items covering Masculinity in the Hofstede sense, but whatever there was belonged to the fifth meta-factor. The results show that in spite of a very different approach, the massive body of GLOBE data still reflected the structure of the original Hofstede model. The GLOBE research has provoked an extensive debate in the literature, but I have seen few applications relevant for practical use by cross-cultural practitioners (Hofstede, 2010). Minkov and Blagoev (2011) have tried to validate each of GLOBE’s 18 dimensions by testing their nomological networks (correlation patterns with variables from other sources). The largest number of GLOBE’s mutually correlated dimensions can be considered useful as facets of Hofstede’s Individualism/Collectivism; some have enriched insights into Hofstede’s Power Distance dimension, and GLOBE’s Assertiveness “should be” provides some new elements. GLOBE’s Humane Orientation and Performance Orientation, both “as is” and “should be” cannot be meaningfully validated at all. An author sometimes cited as having researched dimensions of national culture is the Dutch management consultant Fons Trompenaars (1993). He distinguished seven conceptual dimensions, the first five borrowed from Parsons and Shils (1951) and the last two from Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck

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(1961) which he applied to the level of nations (see earlier in this article). Trompenaars collected a database of survey items related to these dimensions, but in the only statistical analysis of his data published so far, applying Multidimensional Scaling to some 9,000 questionnaires, only two interpretable factors emerged, both correlated with Hofstede’s Individualism, one of these also with Power Distance (Smith, Dugan, & Trompenaars, 1996; Smith, Trompenaars, & Dugan, 1995). The only country scores that could be based on Trompenaars’ data refer to these two flavors of individualism (Smith, Peterson, & Schwartz, 2002). Trompenaars’ claim to seven dimensions therefore lacks empirical support. The World Values Survey has been described above. Although the search for dimensions was not a primary purpose of this study, WVS director Ronald Inglehart in an overall statistical analysis found two key country-level factors which he called: 'Well-being versus survival' and 'Secular-rational versus traditional authority' (Inglehart, 1997, pp. 8198). Well-being versus survival correlated with a combination of Individualism and Masculinity; Secular-rational versus traditional authority negatively with Power Distance.

Michael Minkov issued an extended and updated version of his 2007 book in a new volume Cultural Differences in a Globalizing World (Minkov, 2011). For the dimensions Exclusionism versus Universalism and Monumentalism versus Flexumility, country scores have been re-calculated from partly different sources, for 86 countries for exclusionism and for 43 countries for monumentalism. Indulgence versus Restraint has been reversed and renamed Industry versus Indulgence; scores for 43 countries have been based on a slightly different choice of WVS items. The old and new versions of these three dimensions are still strongly correlated, in the case of Indulgence obviously negatively. A unique feature of the new book is the addition of a dimension not based on survey questions but on a statistically strong cluster of national statistics: murder rates, HIV (AIDS) rates, adolescent fertility rates and low average IQ (Intelligence Quotient, explainable from low education levels). This can be used for validation of dimensions based on survey items. Minkov called it Hypometropia versus Prudence; hypometropia is a medical term for short-sightedness, which he borrowed to avoid an a priori depreciating term. He calculated hypometropia scores for 80 countries. It correlates significantly with Minkov’s Exclusionism and Monumentalism. From the six dimensions in Hofstede et al. (2010) only Individualism correlates significantly negatively with hypometropia, across 55 overlapping countries. Dimensions of Organizational Cultures The dimensional paradigm can be applied at other than the national level as well, in particular at the organizational and occupational levels (Helmreich & Merritt, 1998). A research project similar to the IBM studies but focusing on organization rather than national differences was carried out by this author and a team of collaborators in the 1980s (Hofstede, Neuijen, Ohavy, & Sanders, 1990). Qualitative and quantitative data were collected in twenty work organizations or parts of organizations in the Netherlands and Denmark. The units studied varied from a toy manufacturing company to two municipal police corps. The study consisted of three phases: open-ended interviews with a selection of informants, forced-choice questionnaires with all, or random samples of, employees, and collecting measurable characteristics at the organization level. The questionnaires included the items used for calculating national culture dimensions in the IBM cross-national survey, but added a large number of questions collected by the 18 interviewers in the interview phase. This study found large differences among units in perceptions of daily practices but only modest differences in values, beyond those due to such basic facts as nationality, education, gender and age group.

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Six independent dimensions, resembling distinctions known from organization sociology, were identified that describe the larger part of the variety in organization practices. These six dimensions can be used as a framework to describe organization cultures, but their research base in twenty units from two countries is too narrow to consider them as universally valid and sufficient. For describing organization cultures in other countries and/or in other types of organizations, additional dimensions may be necessary or some of the six may be less useful. The six dimensions found in our research were: Process-oriented versus results-oriented Process-oriented cultures are dominated by technical and bureaucratic routines, results oriented by a common concern for outcomes. This dimension was associated with the culture's degree of homogeneity: in results-oriented units, everybody perceived their practices in about the same way; in process-oriented units, there were vast differences in perception among different levels and parts of the unit. The degree of homogeneity of a culture is a measure of its 'strength': the study confirmed that strong cultures are more results- oriented than weak ones, and vice versa (Peters & Waterman, 1982). Job-oriented versus employee-oriented The former assume responsibility for the employees' job performance only, and nothing more; employee-oriented cultures assume a broad responsibility for their members' wellbeing. At the level of individual managers, the distinction between job orientation and employee orientation has been popularized by Blake and Mouton's Managerial Grid (1964). The Hofstede et al. study (1990) shows that job versus employee orientation is part of a culture and not (only) a choice for an individual manager. A unit's position on this dimension seems to be largely the result of historical factors, like the philosophy of its founder(s) and the presence or absence in its recent history of economic crises with collective layoffs. Professional versus parochial In the former, the (usually highly educated) members identify primarily with their profession; in the latter, the members derive their identity from the organization for which they work. Sociology has long known this dimension as 'local' versus 'cosmopolitan', the contrast between an internal and an external frame of reference (Merton, 1949). Open systems versus closed systems This dimension refers to the common style of internal and external communication, and to the ease with which outsiders and newcomers are admitted. This is the only one of the six dimensions for which a systematic difference was found between Danish and Dutch units. It seems that organizational openness is a societal characteristic of Denmark more than of the Netherlands. This shows that organization cultures also contain elements from national culture differences. Tight versus loose control This dimension deals with the degree of formality and punctuality within the organization; it is partly a function of the unit's technology: banks and pharmaceutical companies can be expected to show tight control, research laboratories and advertising agencies loose control; but even with the same technology some units may still be tighter or looser than others. Pragmatic versus normative The last dimension describes the prevailing way (flexible or rigid) of dealing with the environment, in particular with customers. Units selling services are likely to be found towards the pragmatic (flexible) side, units involved in the application of laws and rules towards the normative (rigid) side. This dimension measures the degree of 'customer orientation', which is a highly popular topic in the marketing literature. The research grounding of these dimensions is documented extensively in Hofstede et al. (1990). Applications and implications can be found in Hofstede et al. (2010, ch. 10).

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Dimensionality of Cultures in the Future The fact that the world around us is changing does not need to affect the usefulness of the dimensional paradigm; on the contrary, the paradigm can help us understand the internal logic and the implications of the changes. Some critics suggest that the number of dimensions should be extended. Triandis (2004) has defended this position, and the GLOBE project actually tried to extend the five Hofstede dimensions to 18. But additional dimensions are only meaningful if they are both conceptually and statistically independent from those already available, and they should also be validated by significant correlations with conceptually related external measures. There is an epistemological reason why the number of meaningful dimensions will always be small. Dimensions should not be reified. They do not ‘exist’ in a tangible sense. They are constructs: if they exist, it is in our minds (Levitin, 1973). They should help us in understanding and handling the complex reality of our social world. But human minds have a limited capacity for processing information, and therefore dimensional models that are too complex will not be experienced as useful. In a famous short article, Miller (1956) argued that useful classifications should not have more than seven categories, plus or minus two. I would go for the minus rather than the plus. Within the dimensional model cultures can of course change their position on a dimension. Critics argue that Hofstede country scores based on IBM subsidiaries around 1970 are obsolete. But studies correlating the old country scores with related variables available on a year-by-year basis in many cases find no weakening of the correlations. A good reason for this is that the country scores on the dimensions do not provide absolute country positions, but only their positions relative to the other countries in the set. The relationship of the dimensions to basic problems of societies and the historical evidence of the continuity of national solutions to such problems suggest that even over much longer periods the measures obtained will retain their validity. Influences like those of new technologies tend to affect all countries without necessarily changing their relative position or ranking; if their cultures change, they change together. Only if on a dimension one country leapfrogs over others will the validity of the original scores be reduced. This is a relatively rare occurrence. China might be one of those rare cases, where after a period of relative isolation, decades of unparalleled double-digit economic development concurrent with rapid global exposure and integration may be bringing about shifts, especially in the younger generation. But this remains to be demonstrated in carefully designed research. Some authors predict that new technologies will make societies more and more similar. Technological modernization is an important force toward culture change and it leads to partly similar developments in different societies, but there is not the slightest proof that it wipes out variety on other dimensions. It may even increase differences, as on the basis of pre-existing value systems societies cope with technological modernization in different ways. Culture change basic enough to invalidate the country dimension index rankings, or even the relevance of the dimensional model, will need either a much longer period – say, 50 to 100 years – or extremely dramatic outside events. Many differences between national cultures at the end of the 20th century were already recognizable in the years 1900, 1800 and 1700 if not earlier. There is no reason why they should not play a role until 2100 or beyond.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Optional Reading A Higher Command in War

Author: Field Marshall Sir William Slim

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L431

Commander's Visualization

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module III: Transition to Offense

Advance Sheet for L431

Commander’s Visualization 1. SCOPE

He was a rising star as a brigadier general. He excelled as a staff officer and was cited for his decisive

leadership in battle as an assistant division commander. By August 1944, he was one of the most decorated senior officers in the U.S. Army. Based on his well-earned reputation as a “fighting general,” he was selected to be a division commander. However, when Norman ‘Dutch’ Cota led his division into the Hürtgen Forest in November 1944, he found himself faced with not only an entirely unfamiliar operational environment, but also a new problem set unlike any he had faced before.

In this lesson, you analyze the dynamics of leadership at the division level to determine what an

organizational leader must do to achieve situational understanding while conducting large-scale combat operations. Specifically, you explore Major General Norman “Dutch” Cota’s ability to achieve situational understanding while serving as the assistant division commander, 29th Infantry Division at Omaha Beach, and his ability to achieve commander’s visualization as the division commander for the 28th Infantry Division in the Hürtgen Forest. Your analysis of the situation confronting the division commander and his subordinate leaders, coupled with your assessment of the leader’s ability to understand and visualize during the planning and execution of the operation, assists in understanding the importance of the commander driving the operations process. Lastly, in focusing on understand and visualize, you compare and contrast General Cota’s use of the art of command at Normandy and in the Hürtgen Forest. This case study provides many lessons that have application to command and leadership in combat today. This lesson also supports previous instruction in the L100 common core leadership lessons and notably serves as a foundational lesson for other leadership lessons in AOC. You apply the insights you gain from this lesson as you work to build and maintain situational understanding to achieve your visualization and conduct the operations process in the AOC Exercise: Operation Baltic Bulwark.

As a result of this lesson, you obtain a thorough grasp of the relationship between situational

understanding and commander’s visualization, the challenges of building and sustaining situational understanding, and the linkage between understanding, decision-making and risk.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in developing organizations. This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO-10-5 Action: Explain how a commander achieves ‘commander’s visualization’ during the conduct of major operations.

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Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Explanation includes- 1. Explain the relationship between situational understanding and commander’s visualization. 2. Explain the challenges of achieving situational understanding as part of the commander’s visualization process; and 3. Explain the linkage between understanding, decision-making, and risk Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: N/A b. During Class: N/A

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements

(1) First Requirement:

Read: L431RA: Department of the Army. ADP 6-0 Mission Command: Command and Control of Army

Forces. Washington, DC: Headquarters, Department of the Army, July 2019. Chapter 2, para 2-67 through 2-123, (13 pages). The second part of chapter 2 focuses on the role of the commander in operations as well as recommendations for the commander to consider to fulfill the responsibilities of command. Ensuring unity of effort, creating a positive command climate, and making timely and effective decisions are just three of the focus areas to ensure mission accomplishment and the development of a successful organization.

L431RB: Bradbeer, Thomas G., PhD. “Major General Cota and the Battle of the Hürtgen Forest.” 2005. TS, Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth. [20 pages] Provides excellent insight into BG Cota’s career and his performance as the division commander of the 28th ID during the Battle of the Hürtgen Forest.

L431RC: Bolger, Daniel P. "Zero Defects: Command Climate in First Army, 1944-45." Military Review, May 1991. [12 pages] (Found on Blackboard) Analyzes the command climate within First Army and provides illuminating insight into the command and leadership styles of Generals Hodges, Bradley, and Patton. This reading may surprise many of you, especially the information about two American military icons, Bradley and Patton.

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Review: L411RB: Department of the Army, ADP 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of

Army Forces, (Washington, DC: Headquarters, Department of the Army, July 2019) Chapter 2, para 2-1 through 2-66, (12 pages).

Suggested readings. These are not required, but provide more depth of MG Cota and the 29th Infantry Division during the Normandy campaign. Balkoski, Joseph. Beyond the Beachhead: The 29th Infantry Division in Normandy. Harrisburg,

PA: Stackpole Books, 1989. D'Este, Carlo. Decision in Normandy. New York: E.P. Dutton, 1983. Currey, Cecil B. Follow Me and Die: The Destruction of an American Division in World War II.

New York: Stein and Day, 1984. Miller, Robert A. Division Commander: A Biography of Major General Norman D. Cota.

Spartanburg, SC: Reprint Company, Publishers, 1989. McDonald, Charles B. The Battle of the Hürtgen Forest. Philadelphia, PA: University of

Pennsylvania Press, 1963. (2) Second Requirement: Complete the case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the Art

of Command area. This is a study aid. Your instructor explains its use in class. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently in the role of one of the leaders in the case study.

(3) Third Requirement: Reflective questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

-What is commander’s visualization?

-Describe the relationship between General Cota’s situational understanding and commander’s visualization as the assistant division commander of the 29th ID during the planning and execution phase of the division’s assault at Omaha Beach on 6 June 1944. -Describe the relationship between General Cota’s situational understanding and commander’s visualization as the division commander of the 28th ID during the planning and execution phase of his division’s attack into the Hürtgen Forest. -How do organizational leaders know when they have achieved situational understanding during major operations? -How does judgment influence a commander’s decision-making? -Describe the linkages between understanding, decision-making and risk?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access to: L431 Leadership advance sheet and readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession

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5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module III: Transition to Offense

L431: Commander's Visualization

L431: Reading A ADP 6-0 Chapter 2: Excerpt

Author: US Army

THE ROLE OF COMMANDERS IN OPERATIONS

Commanders must remember that the issuance of an order, or the devising of a plan, is only about five per cent of the responsibility of command. The other ninety-five percent is to insure, by personal observation, or through the interposing of staff officers, that the order is carried out.

General George S. Patton, Jr. 2-67. Commanders are the central figures in command and control. Commanders, assisted by their staffs, integrate numerous processes and activities within their headquarters and across the force as they exercise command and control. Throughout operations, commanders balance their time between leading their staffs through the operations process and providing purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinate commanders and leaders. 2-68. The Army’s framework for exercising command and control is the operations process—the major command and control activities performed during operations: planning, preparing, executing, and continuously assessing the operation (ADP 5-0). Commanders use the operations process to drive the conceptual and detailed planning necessary to understand, visualize, and describe their operational environment and the operation’s end state; make and articulate decisions; and direct, lead, and assess operations as shown in figure 2-2.

Figure 2-2. The operations process

2-69. The activities of the operations process are not discrete; they overlap and recur as circumstances demand. Planning, preparing, and executing do not always have distinct start and end points. Planning is a continuous activity within the process. While preparing for one operation, or during its execution, units

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are refining the current plan or planning for future operations. Preparation always overlaps with planning, and it continues throughout execution for some subordinate units. Assessing surrounds and permeates the other three activities as commanders and staffs judge progress toward accomplishing tasks and achieving objectives. Subordinate echelons or units within the same command may be in different stages of the operations process at any given time. (See ADP 5-0 for a detailed discussion of the operations process and the commander’s role in planning, preparing, executing, and assessing operations.) 2-70. Commanders, staffs, and subordinate units employ the operations process to integrate and synchronize the warfighting functions across multiple domains and synchronize forces to accomplish missions. This includes integrating numerous processes such as intelligence preparation of the battlefield, the military decision-making process, and the targeting process within the headquarters and with higher echelon, subordinate, supporting, and supported units. The unit’s battle rhythm integrates and synchronizes the various processes and activities that occur within the operations process. 2-71. Commanders are the most important participants in the operations process. While staffs perform essential functions that amplify the effectiveness of operations, commanders drive the operations process through understanding, visualizing, describing, directing, leading, and assessing operations as shown in figure 2-3 on page 2-14. Accurate and timely running estimates maintained by staffs assist commanders in understanding the situation and making decisions throughout the operations process.

Figure 2-3. The commander’s role in the operations process

UNDERSTAND 2-72. An operational environment encompasses physical areas of the air, land, maritime, space, and cyberspace domains as well as the information environment, the electromagnetic spectrum, and other factors. Understanding an operational environment and associated problems is fundamental to establishing a situation’s context and visualizing operations. The interrelationship of the air, land, maritime, space, and cyberspace domains and the information environment requires a cross-domain understanding of an operational environment. While understanding the land domain is essential, commanders consider the influence of other domains and the information environment on land operations. They also consider how land power can influence operations in the other domains. For example, commanders consider how friendly and enemy air and missile defense capabilities influence operations in the air domain. Included within these areas are the enemy, friendly, and neutral actors who are relevant to a specific operation.

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2-73. Part of understanding an operational environment includes identifying and understanding problems. In the context of operations, an operational problem is a discrepancy between the current state of an operational environment and the desired end state. An operational problem includes those issues that impede commanders from accomplishing missions, achieving objectives, and attaining the desired end state. 2-74. Commanders collaborate with their staffs, other commanders, and unified action partners to build a shared understanding of their operational environment and associated problems. Planning, intelligence preparation of the battlefield, and running estimates help commanders develop an initial understanding of their operational environment. Commanders direct reconnaissance and develop the situation to improve their understanding. Commanders circulate within the area of operations as often as possible, collaborating with subordinate commanders and speaking with Soldiers. Using personal observations and inputs from others (including running estimates from their staffs), commanders improve their understanding of their operational environment throughout the operations process. Ideally, perfect understanding should be the basis for decisions. However, commanders realize that uncertainty and time preclude achieving perfect understanding before deciding and acting. VISUALIZE 2-75. As commanders begin to understand their operational environment, they start visualizing a desired end state and potential solutions to solve or manage identified problems. Collectively, this is known as commander’s visualization—the mental process of developing situational understanding, determining a desired end state, and envisioning an operational approach by which the force will achieve that end state. Figure 2-4 depicts activities associated with developing the commander’s visualization. 2-76. In building their visualization, commanders first seek to understand those conditions that represent the current situation. Next, commanders envision a set of desired future conditions that represents the operation’s end state. Commanders complete their visualization by conceptualizing an operational approach—a broad description of the mission, operational concepts, tasks, and actions required to accomplish the mission (JP 5-0).

Figure 2-4. Commander’s visualization

DESCRIBE 2-77. Commanders describe their visualization to their staffs and subordinate commanders to facilitate shared understanding and purpose throughout the force. During planning, commanders ensure subordinate commanders understand their visualization well enough to begin course of action development. During

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execution, commanders describe modifications to their visualization in updated planning guidance and directives resulting in fragmentary orders that adjust the original operation order. Commanders describe their visualization in doctrinal terms, refining and clarifying it as circumstances require. Commanders describe their visualization in terms of— Commander’s intent. Planning guidance, including an operational approach. Commander’s critical information requirements (CCIRs). Essential elements of friendly information. DIRECT 2-78. Commanders direct action to achieve results and lead forces to mission accomplishment. Commanders make decisions and direct action based on their situational understanding maintained by continuous assessment. Throughout the operations process, commanders direct forces by— Preparing and approving plans and orders. Establishing command and support relationships. Assigning and adjusting tasks, control measures, and task organization. Positioning units to maximize combat power. Positioning key leaders at critical places and times to ensure supervision. Allocating resources to exploit opportunities and counter threats. Committing the reserve as required. LEAD 2-79. Commanders lead by example and personal presence. Leadership inspires subordinates to accomplish things that they otherwise might not. Where a commander locates within an area of operations is an important consideration for effective mission command. Through leadership, commanders provide purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinate commanders, their staffs, and Soldiers. There is no standard pattern or simple prescription; different commanders lead differently. Commanders balance their time among command posts and staffs, subordinate commanders, forces, and other organizations to make the greatest contribution to success. (See ADP 6-22 for a detailed discussion of leadership) ASSESS

2-80. Commanders continuously assess the situation to better understand current conditions and determine how an operation is progressing. Continuous assessment helps commanders anticipate and adapt the force to changing circumstances. Commanders incorporate the assessments of their staffs, subordinate commanders, and unified action partners into their personal assessment of the situation. Based on their assessment, commanders adjust their visualization and modify plans to adapt the force to changing circumstances. 2-81. A commander’s focus on understanding, visualizing, describing, directing, leading, or assessing throughout operations varies during different operations process activities. For example, during planning commanders focus more on understanding, visualizing, and describing. During execution, commanders often focus more on directing, leading, and assessing—while improving their understanding and modifying their visualization as needed. (See ADP 5-0 for a detailed discussion on assessing operations.)

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GUIDES TO EFFECTIVE COMMAND

There will be neither time nor opportunity to do more than prescribe the several tasks of the several subordinates.... [I]f they are reluctant (afraid) to act because they are accustomed to detailed orders… if they are not habituated to think, to judge, to decide and to act for themselves ... we shall be in sorry case when the time of “active operations” arrives.

Fleet Admiral Ernest J. King

2-82. The guides to effective command help commanders fulfill the fundamental responsibilities of command. A commander’s use of these guides must fit the situation, the commander’s personality, and the capability and understanding of subordinates. Command cannot be scripted. These guides apply at all levels of command. Mission command provides a common baseline for command during operations and garrison activities. These guides aid commanders in effectively exercising command and inculcating mission command: Create a positive command climate. Ensure unity of effort. Train subordinates on command and control and the application of mission command. Make timely and effective decisions and act. CREATE A POSITIVE COMMAND CLIMATE

Morale is a state of mind. It is that intangible force which will move a whole group of men to give their last ounce to achieve something, without counting the cost to themselves; that makes them feel they are part of something greater than themselves.

Field Marshall Sir William Slim 2-83. Commanders create their organization’s tone—the characteristic atmosphere in which people work. This is known as the command climate. It is directly attributable to the leader’s values, skills, and actions. A positive climate facilitates team building, encourages initiative, and fosters collaboration, mutual trust, and shared understanding. Commanders shape the climate of their organization, no matter what the size. 2-84. Successful commanders recognize that all subordinates contribute to mission accomplishment. They establish clear and realistic goals and communicate their goals openly. Commanders establish and maintain open, candid communication between subordinate leaders. They encourage subordinates to bring creative and innovative ideas to the forefront. They also seek feedback from subordinates. The result is a command climate that encourages initiative.

2-85. A positive command climate instills a sense of trust within units. It facilitates a strong sense of discipline, comradeship, self-respect, and morale. It helps Soldiers develop a desire to do their fair share and to help in the event of need. In turn, Soldiers know their leaders will guard them from unnecessary risk.

2-86. In a positive command climate, the expectation is that everyone lives by and upholds the moral principles of the Army Ethic. The Army Ethic must be espoused, supported, practiced, and respected. Mission command depends on a command climate that encourages subordinate commanders at all levels to take the initiative. Commanders create a positive command climate by— Accepting subordinates’ risk taking and errors. Building mutual trust and shared understanding. Communicating with subordinates.

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Building teams. (See AR 600-20, ADP 6-22, and FM 6-22 for more information on creating a positive command climate.) Accept Subordinates’ Risk Taking and Errors

Judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment. General Omar N. Bradley

2-87. Exercising initiative requires a command climate that promotes risk taking. Commanders inculcate the willingness to accept risk into their commands through leading by example and accepting subordinates’ risk taking. They accept risk during training and operations. They assess the judgment of their subordinates’ risk taking, either at the time of decision, if time permits, or during after action reviews. 2-88. Commanders allow subordinates to accept risk. In training, commanders might allow subordinates to execute an excessively risky decision, as long as it does not endanger lives, as a teaching point. This training helps commanders gain trust in their subordinates’ judgment and initiative and builds subordinates’ trust in their commander.

2-89. Inculcating risk acceptance among subordinates requires that commanders accept risk themselves. Subordinates will not always succeed, particularly when inexperienced. However, with risk acceptance in the command climate, subordinates learn, gaining the experience required to operate on their own. In addition, subordinates learn to trust their commander to give them authority to act, knowing their commander will back their decisions.

2-90. Commanders do not underwrite subordinate mistakes when a subordinate operates outside of the commander's intent or displays poor judgment that endangers life or mission accomplishment. Nor do commanders tolerate a subordinate who repeatedly makes the same mistakes, does not learn, or violates the Army Ethic. Discriminating between which mistakes to underwrite as teaching points and which mistakes are unacceptable in a military leader is part of the art of command.

Build Mutual Trust and Shared Understanding 2-91. Mutual trust and shared understanding are critical to subordinates’ exercise of initiative. Mutual trust and shared understanding of the commander’s intent frees commanders to move about the battlefield. Commanders know their subordinates understand the desired end state, and subordinates know their commander will support their decisions. Additionally, this command climate allows commanders to operate, knowing subordinates will accurately and promptly report both positive and negative information. Mutual trust and shared understanding are critical to the tempo of large-scale combat operations.

Mutual Trust and Shared Understanding: VII Corps and the Ruhr Encirclement First Army’s VII Corps, under MG J. Lawton Collins, entered action in Europe on 6 June 1944. MG Collins’ staff served with him almost uninterruptedly before and through the campaign. This familiarity helped ensure that MG Collins’ subordinates would understand and carry through his intent in issuing and executing their own orders. MG Collins’ command techniques supported subordinates’ exercise of initiative. He discussed his principal decisions, important enemy dispositions, and principal terrain features with major subordinate commanders. If he could not assemble these commanders, he visited them individually as time permitted, with priority given to the commander of the decisive operation. During operations, he visited major subordinate units to obtain information on enemy reactions and major

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difficulties encountered, again giving priority to units conducting the decisive operation. His general and special staff officers visited other units to report critical matters to the corps chief of staff. Upon returning to headquarters, MG Collins met with his staff to review the day’s events and the changes he had directed. After that, his G-3 prepared and distributed a daily operations memorandum confirming MG Collins’ oral instructions and adding any other information or instructions developed during the staff meeting. During the European campaign, VII Corps issued only 20 field orders, an average of two per month, to direct operations. For the Ruhr encirclement, First Army’s mission was to break out from its Rhine River bridgehead at Remagen, link up with Third Army in the Hanau-Giessen area, and join Ninth Army of 21st Army Group near Kassel-Paderborn. The attack began on 25 March 1945, with VII Corps attacking and passing through the enemy’s main defensive positions. By this time, GA Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander Allied Expeditionary Force, had decided to isolate the Ruhr from north and south by encirclement, the junction point being the Kassel-Paderborn area. On 26 March, VII Corps took Altenkirchen and, on 27 March, crossed the Dill River. First Army assigned VII Corps as the decisive operation for the linkup with Ninth Army at Paderborn. MG Collins had only 3d Armored Division and 104th Infantry Division available, and the objective was more than 100 kilometers away. Nevertheless, 3d Armored Division, commanded by MG Maurice Rose, was directed to reach Paderborn in one day, and MG Rose, in turn, assigned his subordinates decisive and shaping operations to accomplish that mission. The decisive operation halted 25 kilometers short of Paderborn at 2200 on 29 March. The next day MG Rose was killed in action. As the Germans strongly defended Paderborn, 3d Armored Division’s lead elements were held 10 kilometers from the town. The corps received intelligence of German counterattack forces building around Winterberg, southwest of Paderborn. To counter this, 104th Infantry Division took the road junctions of Hallenberg, Medebach, and Brilon. First Army ordered III and V Corps to shield VII Corps from any attacks from outside the ring. As the situation developed, MG Collins adapted the corps plan to his situational understanding, while remaining within the framework of the higher echelon commander’s intent. By 31 March, German attacks against 104th Infantry Division, increasing German resistance around Paderborn, 3d Armored Division’s reorganization necessitated by MG Rose’s death, and preparation of a coordinated attack against Paderborn required MG Collins to contact the Ninth Army commander and suggest a change in the linkup point. They agreed on the village of Lippstadt, halfway between Paderborn and the lead elements of 2d Armored Division (the right-flank division of Ninth Army). The linkup was effected on 1 April, closing the Ruhr pocket. MG Collins personally led a task force from 3d Armored Division, overcoming weak resistance in its push west, linking up with elements of 2d Armored Division at 1530 at Lippstadt. Later that day, VII Corps successfully overcame the German defenses at Paderborn. The encirclement trapped Army Group B, including Field Marshal Model, 5th Panzer and 15th Armies, and parts of 1st Parachute Army, along with seven corps, 19 divisions, and antiaircraft and local defense troops—a total of nearly 350,000 soldiers. The reduction of the Ruhr pocket would take another two weeks. (See figure 2-5.)

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The Ruhr had been selected as an objective even before the Allies landed in Europe. All major commanders appear to have understood this. However, 12th Army Group only gave the actual orders for the encirclement in late March 1945, when the success of First Army’s breakout had become clear. The actual linkup was eventually effected between VII Corps and Ninth Army, principally on MG Collins’ understanding of the higher echelon commander’s intent and initiative by his subordinates. He practiced a technique similar to mission orders, giving only one or two immediate objectives to each major subordinate command and a distant objective toward which to proceed, without specific instructions. This gave his subordinates freedom to act and exercise initiative, while still providing essential elements needed for coordination among the subunits. Knowing the overall commander’s intent enabled commanders on both sides of the encirclement to direct efforts toward its fulfillment. When lack of lateral communications hindered coordination, subordinates took the initiative to accomplish the mission and fulfill the commander’s intent as they understood it. At 3d Armored Division, subordinates’ understanding of the corps’ commander’s intent allowed operations to resume the day after Rose was killed. When the original objective, achieving a linkup at Paderborn, could no longer be accomplished, MG Collins proposed an alternative linkup point. Finally, with elements of his corps defending at Winterberg, attacking at Paderborn, and moving to Lippstadt, MG Collins positioned himself with the task force from 3d Armored Division to make the decisive operation that day for his corps, First Army, and 12th Army Group. Communicate with Subordinates

General Meade was an officer of great merit, with drawbacks to his usefulness that were beyond his control…. [He] made it unpleasant at times, even in battle, for those around him to approach him even with information.

General Ulysses S. Grant

2-92. Communicating with subordinates contributes to the shared understanding fundamental to mission command. Effective commanders take positive steps to encourage, rather than impede, communications among and with their subordinates and staff. Candor and the free exchange of ideas contribute to trust. Commanders make themselves available and accessible for communications and open to new information. They create a climate where collaboration routinely occurs throughout their organization through personal example, coaching, and mentorship.

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2-93. Successful commanders invest the time and effort to visit and engage with Soldiers, subordinate leaders, and unified action partners to understand their issues and concerns. Through these interactions, subordinates and partners gain insight into the commander’s leadership style and concerns. Build Teams 2-94. Army organizations rely on effective teams to complete tasks, achieve objectives, and accomplish missions. The ability to build and maintain effective teams throughout military operations is an essential skill for all Army commanders, staffs, and leaders.

2-95. Army team building is a continuous process of enabling a group of people to reach their goals and improve effectiveness through leadership and various exercises, activities and techniques (FM 6-22). The goal of Army team building is to improve the quality of the team and how it works together to accomplish the mission. Using doctrinal terms and symbols is one method of fostering teamwork. Often, the only basis for trust and teamwork in situations that require rapid task organization is a common language and approach to operations. Training and rehearsals also provide opportunities to foster teamwork. Teambuilding is essential to achieving the effective teams required of mission command. (See ATP 6- 22.6 for more information on teams and teamwork.) 2-96. Building an effective team is challenging, but the positive benefits of teamwork in an effective team are well worth the effort and time it takes. These benefits enhance the performance of the team, improve the skills of the individual team members, and build important relationships with unified action partners. 2-97. Commanders must foster teamwork among task-organized units. Commanders initiate team building, both inside and outside their organizations, as early as possible, and they maintain it throughout operations. Commanders must trust and earn the trust of their unified action partners and key leaders within the operational area. Overcoming differences in cultures, mandates, and organizational capabilities is key to building mutual trust with unified action partners and key leaders. 2-98. Commanders use interpersonal relationships to build teams within their own organizations and with unified action partners. Uniting all the diverse capabilities necessary to achieve success in operations requires collaborative and cooperative efforts that focus those capabilities toward a common goal. Where military forces typically demand unity of command, a challenge for building teams with unified action partners is to forge unity of effort—coordination and cooperation toward common objectives. (See JP 3- 08 for more information on teambuilding with unified action partners.) ENSURE UNITY OF EFFORT 2-99. Unity of effort is the coordination and cooperation toward common objectives, even if the participants are not necessarily part of the same command or organization, which is the product of successful unified action (JP 1). Establishing a culture of collaboration provides and enhances unity of effort. The commander’s intent provides the unifying idea that allows decentralized execution within an overarching framework.

2-100. Unity of command is one of the principles of war and the preferred method for achieving unity of effort. Commanders always adhere to unity of command when task-organizing Army forces. Under unity of command, every mission falls within the authority and responsibility of a single, responsible commander. Unity of command requires that two commanders may not exercise the same command relationship over the same force at any one time.

2-101. Unity of command may not be possible in some operations that include unified action partners. When unity of command is not possible, commanders must achieve unity of effort through cooperation

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and coordination to build trust among all elements of the force—even if they are not part of the same command structure.

2-102. The commander’s intent provides guidance within which subordinates are expected to exercise initiative to accomplish overall goals. Understanding the commander’s intent two echelons up further enhances unity of effort while providing the basis for decentralized decision making and execution. Subordinates who understand the commander’s intent are more likely to exercise disciplined initiative in unexpected situations. Under mission command, subordinates have an absolute responsibility to fulfill the commander’s intent. TRAIN SUBORDINATES IN COMMAND AND CONTROL AND THE APPLICATION OF MISSION COMMAND 2-103. Commanders develop a basic level of control within their organizations when they create a culture that embraces mission command at every level. The time spent inculcating mission command into training, education, and problem solving prior to operations saves time and simplifies command and control during operations. Commanders cannot expect subordinates to respond effectively to a mission command approach once operations commence if they have not developed subordinates comfortable in its use beforehand.

2-104. Leaders have an obligation to ensure that their subordinates are capable of performing their assigned tasks to Army standards under a variety of circumstances. Leaders generally provide more direction or guidance and control until they are satisfied that subordinates understand tasks, conditions, and standards and can operate within the commander’s intent. Increased confidence in the ability of subordinates generally leads to more latitude in the way that subordinates are given to complete their assigned missions, since commanders can trust that the subordinates understand the purpose of what they are being told to do. 2-105. The ability to provide general guidance oriented on the purpose of a mission saves time during execution for both commanders and subordinates and maximizes flexibility should conditions change or communication become intermittent. It also minimizes the chances that subordinates will waste resources on tasks no longer relevant to the purpose of a particular operation. The effort put into developing subordinate leaders and their teams saves critical time in combat and allows commanders to assume more tactical risk when the situation is unclear and communication is intermittent.

2-106. Effective mission command requires well-developed subordinates capable of decentralized execution of missions and tasks. Training must create common, repetitive, shared experiences that build trust and allow commands to acquire competence in shared understanding. Trained teams are able to communicate explicitly and implicitly, conduct decentralized operations, and achieve unity of effort in uncertain situations.

2-107. Noncommissioned officers are key enablers of mission command, and they must be trained in the mission command principles to effectively support their commander and lead their Soldiers. Noncommissioned officers are required to exercise disciplined initiative to make decisions and take actions to further their commander’s intent. They must actively work to understand the commander’s intent two levels up and relay that intent to their Soldiers. They train to develop mutual trust and shared understanding with their commanders and their Soldiers.

2-108. Noncommissioned officers enforce standards and discipline and develop their subordinates as they build teams. They are trained to operate under mission orders and decide for themselves how best to achieve their commander’s intent. With information available to all levels of command and increasing

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dispersion on the battlefield, noncommissioned officers must be comfortable in exercising initiative to make decisions and act. 2-109. As part of training subordinates in command and control and mission command, commanders must prepare their subordinates for positions of increased responsibility. To this end, they promote leader qualities and assess subordinates’ potential for future appointments to command and staff positions. Promote Leader Qualities 2-110. Commanders promote leader qualities by developing them in themselves and in their subordinates at least two echelons down. These qualities are described in the Army leadership requirements model. This model describes the attributes and competencies required of Army leaders. But qualities alone do not make successful commanders. Successful commanders develop a balance among those qualities. The fact that an officer has been appointed a commander does not automatically endow that commander with these qualities. Rather, all officers develop them to prepare for command. In general, the higher the echelon of command, the wider the scope of qualities required. In addition, the emphasis on and among the qualities changes with the echelon of command. (See ADP 6-22 for more information on the Army leadership requirements model.)

2-111. All commanders emphasize the Warrior Ethos. The Warrior Ethos is a set of principles by which every Soldier lives, and it states— I will always place the mission first. I will never accept defeat. I will never quit. I will never leave a fallen comrade behind. 2-112. The Warrior Ethos is perishable, so commanders continually affirm, develop, and sustain it. Developing it demands inculcating self-discipline in the commander, subordinates, and the command. It requires tough, realistic training that develops the resiliency needed to endure extremes of weather, physical exertion, and lack of sleep and food. Commanders develop the will, determination, and the confidence that they, their subordinates, and their formations will accomplish all missions regardless of conditions.

2-113. Training and education can develop much of the knowledge and many of the skills commanders require. In particular, training devices, simulations, and exercises can enhance clarity of thought and judgment, including decision making. Developing leader qualities and practicing leadership skills is necessary for subordinates to decide and act effectively during operations. Assess Subordinates

No man is more valiant than Yessoutai; no one has rarer gifts. But, as the longest marches do not tire him, as he feels neither hunger nor thirst, he believes that his officers and soldiers do not suffer from such things. That is why he is not fitted for high command.

Genghis Khan 2-114. Once appointed, commanders assume the role of coach and mentor to their subordinates. They study the personalities and characteristics of their subordinate commanders. Some need significant direction; others work best with little or no guidance. Some tire easily and require encouragement and moral support. Others, perhaps uninspired in peace, excel in conflict and war. Matching talent to tasks is an important function of command. Commanders judge Soldiers so they can appoint the right subordinates

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to the right positions at the right times. Assessing individuals and handling them to the best effect applies to staffs as well as subordinate commanders. Commanders also assess subordinates by giving them experiences and opportunities to grow through assignments that challenge their abilities. Recognizing subordinates’ strengths and limits is vital to effectively exercising command.

2-115. One of a commander’s most important duties is evaluating subordinates to identify talent— potential future candidates for senior appointments to command and staff positions. To assess the command qualities of subordinates objectively, commanders place individuals in circumstances where they must make decisions and live with the consequences. In these situations, subordinates must know their commander has enough confidence in them to permit honest mistakes. Training gives commanders opportunities to assess subordinates on the qualities commanders should possess. In particular, assessing subordinates should confirm whether they exhibit the necessary balance of intelligence, professionalism, and common sense required to carry the added responsibilities that go with promotion.

2-116. An important aspect of assessing subordinates is determining the extent to which they are both willing and able to apply the mission command approach to the command and control of their units. Since commanders evaluate two echelons down during training and leader development, and observe subordinate leader behavior one and two echelons down during training and operations, under both garrison and field conditions, they have multiple opportunities for assessing internalization of the mission command approach. (See FM 6-22 for further discussion on assessing subordinates.) MAKE TIMELY DECISIONS AND ACT

I have found again and again that in encounter actions, the day goes to the side that is the first to plaster its opponent with fire. The man who lies low and awaits developments usually comes off second best.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel

2-117. Timely decisions and actions are essential for effective command and control. Commanders who demonstrate the agility to consistently make appropriate decisions faster than their opponents have a significant advantage. By the time the slower commander decides and acts, the faster one has already changed the situation, rendering the slower commander’s actions irrelevant. With such an advantage, the faster commander can dictate the tempo and maintain the operational initiative.

2-118. A mission command approach makes it easier for commanders to make timely decisions that exploit opportunities because they spend less time focused on subordinates’ tasks. Effective commanders— Take the enemy situation, capabilities, and reaction times into account when making decisions. Consider the impact of their decisions—the cause and effect. Make decisions quickly—even with incomplete information. Adopt a satisfactory course of action with acceptable risk as quickly as possible. Delegate decision making authority to the lowest echelon possible to obtain faster decisions during operations. Support decentralized execution by maintaining shared understanding with subordinates and frequently with adjacent commanders. 2-119. Commanders change and combine intuitive and analytical decision making techniques as the situation requires. Because uncertainty and the tempo of large-scale combat operations drive most decisions, commanders emphasize intuitive decision making and develop their subordinates accordingly.

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However, when time is available and depending on the operational context of a situation, commanders and staffs use the military decision-making process or Army design methodology during planning.

2-120. Commanders can alter planning to fit time-constrained circumstances. In time-constrained conditions, commanders assess the situation, update their commander’s visualization, and direct their staffs to perform those activities needed to support the required decisions. Streamlined processes permit commanders and staffs to shorten the time needed to issue orders when the situation changes. To an outsider, it may appear that experienced commanders and staffs omit key steps. In reality, they use existing products or perform steps mentally. Commanders ensure their staffs are trained on all Army decision- making methodologies. (See ADP 5-0 for more information on the Army decision-making process.) 2-121. Commanders and staffs constantly assess where an operation is in relation to the end state and make adjustments to accomplish the mission and posture the force for future operations. The commander’s visualization and the staffs’ running estimates are the primary assessment tools. Keeping running estimates current is essential to ensuring commanders are aware of feasible options. Staffs continuously replace outdated facts and assumptions in their running estimate with new information. They perform analysis and form new, or revise existing, conclusions and recommendations. The commander’s visualization identifies decisions commanders expect to make and focuses their staffs’ running estimates. Up-to-date running estimates provide the recommendations commanders need to make timely decisions during execution. (See FM 6-0 for more information on running estimates.) CONCLUSION Good morale and a sense of unity in a command cannot be improvised; they must be thoroughly planned and systematically promoted. They are born of just and fair treatment, a constant concern for the soldier’s welfare, thorough training in basic duties, comradeship among men and pride in self, organization, and country. The establishment and maintenance of good morale are incumbent upon every command and are marks of good leadership. FM 100-5, Operations (1941) 2-122. The role of commanders is to direct and lead from the beginning of planning throughout execution, and continually assess and adjust operations to achieve their intent. Commanders drive the operations process. They understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess operations in complex, dynamic environments. Throughout operations, commanders, subordinate commanders, staffs, and unified action partners collaborate actively, sharing and questioning information, perceptions, and ideas to better understand situations and make decisions. Commanders encourage disciplined initiative through mission orders and a climate of mutual trust and shared understanding. Guided by their experience, knowledge, education, intelligence, and intuition, commanders apply leadership to translate decisions into action. Commanders synchronize forces and capabilities in time, space, and purpose to accomplish missions. 2-123. Ultimately, command reflects everything a commander understands about the nature of war, warfighting doctrine, training, leadership, organizations, materiel, and soldiers. It is how commanders organize their forces, structure operations, and direct the synchronized effects of organic and allocated assets toward their visualized end state. Command is built on training and shared understanding by all Soldiers within a command about how it operates. It is the expression of the commander’s professional competence and leadership style, and the translation of the commander’s vision to the command. However, command alone is not sufficient to translate that vision and to assure mission accomplishment; control, the subject of chapter 3, is also necessary.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module III: Transition to Offense

L431: Commander’s Visualization

L431: Reading B Major General Cota and the Battle of the Hürtgen Forest

Author: Dr. Thomas G. Bradbeer

“In the final upshot, troops of the 28th Division marched into battle in a state of innocence, most terrible to contemplate in the irresponsible attack on Schmidt, which caused the unit to suffer the worst disaster on a divisional level to befall U.S. troops in the campaign in northwest Europe.”

R.W. Thompson

He was one of the best and brightest brigadier generals in the entire United States Army. His service as the Chief of Staff of the 1st Infantry Division in North Africa and his subsequent work with combined operations in Britain made him the Army’s expert on amphibious operations. His critical role in the planning for Operation Overlord (the invasion of Europe) was a major reason for his selection to the assistant division command of the 29th Infantry Division. He earned the U.S. Distinguished Service Cross and the British Distinguished Service Order at Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944 for his actions and his decisive leadership. For his consistently superior performance, he was given command of the 28th Infantry Division, which he led across France to the German border and the Siegfried Line. He earned the reputation as a “fighting general” but his greatest challenge as a division commander would occur when his unit attacked into the Hürtgen Forest to capture the critical crossroads town of Schmidt in November 1944. Begun in September 1944, the Battle of the Hürtgen Forest culminated in mid-February 1945, costing the U.S. Army over 34,000 casualties in five months. Largely forgotten by history, this battle was one of the bloodiest and most disastrous U.S. Army campaigns of the Second World War. Operation Market Garden and the German’s surprise attack in mid-December through the Ardennes both eclipsed the Battle of the Hürtgen Forest’s inauspicious beginning. The “Battle of the Bulge” followed its tragic end. This hard-fought and well-earned Allied victory overshadowed the debacle that occurred less than 20 miles north of the Ardennes. While Operation Market-Garden and the “Battle of the Bulge” are two of the most documented battles in history, only a handful of books and articles have chronicled the ferocious fighting that took place in the Hürtgen Forest over a five-month period. WHO WAS MAJOR GENERAL COTA?

Born on 30 May 1893 in Chelsea, Massachusetts, Norman Daniel Cota was an industrious and adventurous youth. Forced to quit school in the ninth grade to assist his father in running the family grocery store, he worked several jobs to save money to attend the prestigious Worcester Academy, fifty miles west of Chelsea. While playing football for Worcester Academy (1910-13) he earned the nickname “Dutch,” which would stay with him for the rest of his life. Upon graduation from Worcester, the United States Military Academy at West Point accessioned him as a member of the class of 1917. Among his classmates were future World War II commanders Dwight Eisenhower, Omar Bradley, Mark Clark, Joseph Collins, and Matthew Ridgway.

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The United States’ entry into the First World War caused Cota’s class to graduate two months early in April 1917. Commissioned in the infantry, he was assigned to A Company, 22nd Infantry Regiment, and then stationed at Fort Jay, New York Harbor.

Within one month, his superiors promoted him to first lieutenant and into command of A Company.

His unit served out the war supervising a basic training course, which sent their graduates directly to France. Within three months after graduating from West Point, Cota was a captain and just a year later, he was promoted to major after only eighteen months on active duty.

Just before the war ended the Army assigned Cota back to West Point where he served as a tactics

instructor. In 1919, as part of the Army’s massive downsizing, he was reduced in rank to captain. In November of that same year, Cota married Connie Alexander of Manhattan, New York. Their first child, Ann, was born a year later with son, Norman Daniel Cota, Junior, born in 1921.

Cota spent the next four years detached from the infantry and assigned to the Army’s finance

department. While stationed at Langley Field, Virginia, in 1922 and serving as the post financial officer, a serious incident occurred which placed a black mark in Cota’s file. A thief robbed the post of more than $40,000 and Cota was held personally responsible. It would take many years and an appeal to Congress to clear Cota of having to repay the loss.

Cota returned to the infantry in 1924 and attended the Infantry School’s Company Officer Course at Fort Benning. While there, he reunited with Matthew Ridgway and Mark Clark. Upon graduation, the Army assigned him to Schofield Barracks, Hawaii where he became a company commander with the 35th Infantry Regiment. Later while serving as the regimental plans and training officer he met Major George Patton, Jr. who was the chief intelligence officer, Hawaii division.

After this tour he spent the next four years attending Army schools (Infantry Officer Advanced

Course, where he was the honor graduate, and the two-year Command and General Staff School) before returning to Fort Benning to teach in the weapons department under Colonel Omar Bradley. During this tour, Cota earned Bradley’s respect and admiration. It is partly because of this respect that Bradley later selected Cota to be a division commander in his 12th Army Group in the summer of 1944.

Cota, age 39, was promoted to major in 1932 having spent thirteen years as a captain. He then

attended the Army War College, followed by two years with the 26th Infantry Regiment where he served as the regimental S4 and then plans and training officer. He then transferred to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, as an instructor. When the Second World War began, Cota realized it would only be a matter of time before the United States became involved. In the fall of 1940, the newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Cota left Kansas to become the executive officer for the 16th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division, the “Big Red One,” at Fort Jay, New York. He became the division’s assistant G2 (intelligence) when the unit moved to Fort Devens, Massachusetts. After only four months, he then became the assistant G3 (operations) where he focused primarily on preparing the division for amphibious operations in Europe.

Less than a week after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Cota was promoted to colonel. The 1st

Infantry Division spent the winter and spring of 1942 preparing and training for combat, but it was in June when the new command team formed that the division found its true war-fighting identity. Major General Terry de la Mesa Allen, an Army legend for repeatedly demonstrating fearless courage during the First World War, assumed command of the Big Red One with Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., as his assistant division commander, and Cota was selected to be the division chief of staff. Aggressive and impulsive, Allen used a very personal and charismatic leadership style; Cota offset Allen with a

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steadfast emphasis on discipline, common sense, and adherence to regulations. They would prove to be an excellent leader team.

Just days after becoming the division chief of staff Cota supervised the division’s move from

Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania, where it had been conducting field maneuvers, to New York City, where it sailed for the United Kingdom. The division arrived in Scotland on 8 August 1942 and entrained for England where it spent the rest of the summer and most of the fall training for the invasion of North Africa. On 8 November 1942 the 1st Infantry Division landed on the beaches of Arzeu, near Oran, Algeria and, after limited fighting, captured the city of Oran two days later.

In February 1943, Cota became chief of the American section within the combined operations

headquarters (COHQ) in London and promoted to brigadier general. Not at all pleased to be losing his chief of staff, Major General Allen considered Cota instrumental in the success of the 1st Infantry Division but understood Cota’s promotion “for the good of the Army” and that Cota would be heavily involved in planning future operations that would include the “Big Red One.”

In England, Cota worked directly for Lord Louis Mountbatten, the commander of COHQ, a proven

war hero with a forceful personality. Lord Mountbatten charged Cota with developing doctrine and training for U.S. amphibious operations. Cota was able to put his experiences from the 1st Infantry Division into formal practice. Attending the Assault Training Center Conference in June, Cota was able to present his ideas. He posited three essential phases for a successful amphibious landing; secure the beachhead, exploit the landing, and maintain the beach, which included the safe transit of follow-on forces to expand the exploitation. Cota briefed in detail the type and number of units required to form the assault divisions, which included the use of well-trained regimental combat teams and a Ranger-type battalion in each regiment. He stressed that all beach landings should be made under cover of darkness, as daylight assaults would have little chance for success. Although his ideas for the training and organization of assault divisions would be adopted, his superiors ignored his proposal for nighttime assaults.

COTA AT OMAHA BEACH

With his wealth of knowledge on amphibious operations, Cota was in high demand by several division commanders whose units were preparing for the largest amphibious assault in history. In October 1943, Major General Charles Gerhardt selected Cota to be the assistant division commander for the 29th Infantry “Blue & Grey” Division. Gerhardt appreciated Cota’s no-nonsense approach to training and the division commander placed him in charge of all division training exercises in preparation for the forthcoming assault on Normandy.

In April 1944, the final invasion plan identified the 116th Infantry Regiment, 29th Infantry Division,

to be one of the first units to land on Omaha Beach. As the unit rehearsed the assault plan, General Gerhardt realized he had to take measures to minimize the chaos and confusion that was sure to be rampant on the beach. To maintain command and control in the early phases of the assault, he decided to form a provisional brigade and made Cota the de facto brigade commander. Known as the “Bastard Brigade,” Cota had a staff of about twenty-five officers from the 116th Infantry, the 29th, and 1st Infantry Divisions. The last week before embarkation, he and his staff war-gamed a variety of contingencies once the units assaulted the beach. At 1400 on 5 June, Cota briefed his officers, closing with:

You must all try to alleviate confusion, but in doing so be careful not to create more. Ours is not the job of actually commanding, but of assisting. If possible, always work through the

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commander of a group. This is necessary to avoid conflicts-duplications of both orders and efforts.

It is evident through his pre-invasion efforts as well as his final message to his division staff that BG Cota understood the philosophy of mission command as we apply it in the present. As ADRP 6-0 states, “Mission Command is the exercise of authority and direction by the commander using mission order to enable disciplined initiative within the commander’s intent to empower agile and adaptive leaders in the conduct of [operations]” Cota and his “Bastard Brigade” landed at Omaha Beach at H+1 (0730) on 6 June 1944. He was 51 years old, had just completed his twenty-seventh year in the Army, and he was the author of the most current amphibious doctrine in the U.S. Army. Upon exiting his landing craft, Cota began moving ashore with his command group under intense enemy fire. With men becoming casualties all around him, he directed the men with him to take cover behind a tank. Quickly discerning that the tank offered poor cover and was a prime target for the German gunners, Cota led his group on a fifty-yard dash of open beach to the seawall at the foot of the bluff leading up from the beach. “It was here that the true dimensions of the potential disaster that the Americans faced on Omaha Beach became clear to General Cota.” Though the seawall provided some cover to growing number of crouching American Soldiers, Cota realized it was much more of a major obstacle than he and his staff had thought it would be. He identified two facts upon reaching the seawall. The first was that they had been on the beach nearly an hour and no unit had gained a foothold on the high ground beyond the beach. The German fire trapped a majority of the American units on a narrow stretch of beach using the seawall for cover. Cota knew the situation would only get worse as more troops made their way ashore and unless something was done to gain the high ground and eliminate the German positions, further landings would have to be cancelled. The second fact was even more serious. As Cota began to move along the seawall and circulate amongst the troops, he discovered that there were men from many different units mixed together with little leadership or organization. “The men hovering next the seawall were terrified, lost, and leaderless.” Any movement brought a fusillade of fire and casualties grew with every passing minute. Cota located the regimental commander of the 116th, Colonel Charles Canham. The two agreed that the next 10 to 15 minutes would be critical. Cota stated that he would conduct a reconnaissance to the right and Canham should do the same to the left. Canham was shot through the wrist as soon as he moved but kept going. Within fifty yards, Cota found what he was searching for: an area beyond the seawall that offered some cover that led to the high ground. The only obstacle was a belt of thick barbed wire. Cota returned to the beach and began leading small groups of men through the gap in the German defenses. “By walking up and down the beach himself [Cota] showed the troops hovering against the seawall that a man could stand up and still live. He pointed out that to stay on the beach meant certain death. He shouted, cursed, cajoled, and gradually gathered together a group willing to follow his lead.” Cota directed a small group of engineers to use Bangalore torpedoes to destroy the barbed wire obstacle, led the group through the gap and moved up the bluff towards the high ground into a field of marsh grass without receiving enemy fire. Seeing their successful climb, more men began to follow behind Cota’s group until a steady flow of men moved through the gap. Just over an hour after landing, the seizure of the high ground behind Omaha Beach had begun. Cota returned to the beach and found Colonel Canham, who was setting up his command post. A mortar round landed near Cota, killing two Soldiers standing near him. Though he found a passageway through the German defenses, Cota knew this was just the first step. After conducting a quick review of his map

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with Canham, Cota realized that the 116th and men from his “Bastard Brigade” had exited the beach onto the high ground more than 1,000 yards east of their objective where a draw from the beach led to the small town of Vierville sur Mer. Cota went back to the beach and began organizing men and units and led them to the gap. With several hundred men behind him, Cota advanced toward the French village. They reached the main road that led up from the beach through Vierville by 1200. Ordering Canham to continue the advance to the west and destroy any artillery positions from the rear that they encountered and reduce the firing onto Omaha Beach. Cota returned to the beach and found the situation unchanged from three hours ago. Thousands of American Soldiers were still cowering behind the seawall and casualties were still growing every minute as the German fire continued unabated. Cota had no way of knowing that Lieutenant General Omar Bradley, commander of the US First Army, was seriously considering calling off further landings at Omaha Beach after receiving reports for more than six hours that a “disaster” was taking place along the Normandy coast. Cota coordinated with the command group of the 6th Engineer Special Battalion to clear anti-tank obstacles along the seawall to clear the Vierville exit for US tanks. Most of the tanks on Omaha beach that Cota could see were stationary and the Germans were destroying or disabling them with direct and indirect fire. Continuing his trek to the west along the beach, Cota continued to encourage troops by his example. He organized tanks into platoon-size elements, sent engineer units to areas where they were badly needed to assist in breaching obstacles, and coordinated the evacuation of the wounded. By mid-afternoon, he had located members from his staff and allocated each of them tasks and missions. A top priority was to locate the 116th regimental artillery and direct it toward Vierville. A second was to locate any signal units on the beach so that telephone lines could be laid from the beach into Vierville and Colonel Canham’s headquarters. Just as important, Cota directed his staff officers to begin organizing units and reduce the chaos and confusion near the seawall. Cota moved farther down the beach where he located the command group of the 1st Infantry Division approximately two and half miles from the Vierville exit. He met with the division commander, Major General Clarence Huebner who had just come ashore, and briefed him on what had taken place over the last eight hours and the location of units belonging to the two regiments from the 29th ID. The two coordinated unit boundaries to ensure that both divisions’ post-assault objectives could be achieved in the next 24 hours. Leaving Huebner, Cota headed back to Vierville and understanding that his own division commander, Major General Charles Gerhardt, had come ashore, he proceeded to the division command post to brief his division commander on what had taken place throughout the day. Gerhardt requested that Cota return to the 1st ID CP and coordinate artillery support with Huebner and his staff. It was dark by the time Cota left Vierville and made his way back to the 1st ID CP. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had been on Omaha Beach for twelve hours and was somewhat amazed that he was still alive and unwounded at that. In those twelve hours Dutch Cota had traversed the beach a dozen times, leading, directing, and encouraging the hundreds of American Soldiers he found cowering behind beach obstacles, disabled Sherman tanks, and the shingle wall below the German pillboxes. After directing a group of engineers to use Bangalore torpedoes to blow one of the first breaches in the German obstacle belt just southwest of

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Vierville sur Mer, he had led a platoon of Soldiers through the gap and into open country. He spent the rest of the daylight hours of June 6 coordinating activities on and around the beach landings. He had located, briefed, and coordinated with both the 29th and 1st Infantry Division commanders and their staffs. As his biographer Robert Miller wrote, D-Day for Cota “had been the culmination of a lifetime of military training and discipline.”

Cota became a legend for his actions on Omaha Beach. He survived the deadly fusillade every time he traversed the beach to get men moving or to direct efforts to breach the enemy barriers. His leadership, courage, and actions earned him both the U.S Distinguished Service Cross and the British Distinguished Service Order. Many eyewitnesses believed his actions warranted the nation’s highest medal for valor, the Medal of Honor. Cota also would be remembered for his famous exclamation of “Rangers! Lead the way!” exhorting the men of the 5th Ranger Battalion to leave the cover of the seawall and lead an increasing mass of Soldiers through the Vierville breach. Today it remains, as it has for decades, the motto of the U.S. Army Ranger Regiment. Over the course of the next few weeks Cota lived in the thick of the fighting and always forward in the front lines as the men of the 29th Infantry Division fought through the hedgerows of Normandy. He earned the Silver Star for his actions at Isigny and the Vire River. On 18 July, after several unsuccessful attacks against the German defenses in and around St. Lo, Task Force Cota attacked and captured its critical road and bridge network. In the process, Cota was wounded in the arm and spent the next two weeks in the hospital. For his daring leadership Cota received an oak leaf to his Silver Star. Six weeks after landing at Omaha Beach, he was one of the most decorated Army officer’s in the entire European theater. COMMANDING THE 28TH INFANTRY DIVISION On 13 August 1944, General Bradley approved the XIX Corps commander’s request to give Cota command of the 28th Infantry Division after its newly assigned commander, Major General James Wharton, was killed by a sniper while visiting his forward units. Prior to taking division command, the largest formation Cota had ever commanded was an infantry company back in 1917. Though he had been a division chief of staff and an assistant division commander in combat, it was only upon arriving at the division command post near Sourdeval that Cota realized the enormity of the burden placed upon him. As commander of an infantry division he now was responsible for the lives of more than 15,000 men. Cota’s biographer, Robert Miller, wrote, “The ultimate accountability for division success or failure was now his and his alone.” The 28th Infantry Division was a Pennsylvania National Guard Division and had been activated in 1940. The “Keystone Division” had deployed first to Wales, then to England, where its units spent seven months training before landing on Omaha Beach on 22 July. The division had been in combat for three weeks when its commander, Major General Brown, was relieved. The division’s performance had been considered unsatisfactory by its higher headquarters, XIX Corps, and Cota had been brought in to correct the leadership challenges within the division. Cota conducted an initial assessment of his division staff and regimental commanders. He learned that many of them had served with the division in the First World War and had been on active duty since their call-up in 1940. The chief of staff, two of the three regimental commanders, and several of the battalion commanders had spent their entire careers with the 28th. Despite this longevity and seeming expertise, Cota quickly realized that both the chief of staff and the division operations officer were not the competent experts that they should have been. He suspected that their collective performance had been partially responsible for the relief of Major General Brown. To exacerbate matters, the assistant division commander, Brigadier General George Davis, had joined the

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division shortly before Cota. He had served on the 3rd Army staff but in only a few weeks had earned the distrust and dislike of the division staff and the regimental commanders. Any thought by Cota of making command and staff changes was set aside as the division was ordered to move almost 90 miles and attack as part of the corps left flank into Le Neuborg and Elbeuf on the Seine River in an attempt to trap retreating German forces. Upon completion of this mission, Major General Leonard Gerow’s V Corps absorbed the 28th Infantry into its command. After parading through the recently captured city of Paris on 29 August, the 28th spent the next two weeks pursuing the retreating German Army. In 10 days the division covered an amazing 270 miles, then unheard of for an infantry division. Several notable achievements for the division during this period included the capture of the entire Duchy of Luxembourg on 10 September and becoming the first Allied unit to reach the German border. Waiting for them was the renowned Siegfried Line, a dense obstacle belt that stretched the entire length of the German border opposite France and Belgium. It consisted of minefields, dense barbed wire, concrete pillboxes and mile upon mile of “dragon’s teeth.” Every American Soldier who saw the Siegfried Line asked the same question: How many German troops manned the defensive belt and of what quality were they?

During the first weeks of September both the American and British senior commanders began to believe the German ground forces were exhausted, dispirited, and disorganized. Many leaders believed the war might indeed be over by Christmas. The First Army commander, Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges, went so far as to state “given ten good days of weather the war might well be over as far as organized resistance was concerned.” This overly optimistic view quickly spread down to the small unit level. It would prove to be a major miscalculation of the allied strategic leaders, as the Germans would prove. The 28th attacked the Siegfried Line on 13 September, its objective being the town of Uttfeld, a mile inside the German frontier. Cota developed a plan of attack that used only one battalion from each of his two regiments (the 109th and 110th; the third regiment, the 112th, had been attached to the 5th Armored Division). Both attacks failed and Cota relieved the 109th regimental commander, Colonel William Blanton, when one of his battalions withdrew without permission. The division continued to attack, defeating several German counterattacks in the process. On 17 September the high ground above Uttfeld was captured. Preparing to envelop the town, Cota was notified by Major General Leonard Gerow, V Corps commander, to call off the attack. V Corps could not expand the flanks of the narrow penetration that the 28th had achieved. Cota was disappointed but he realized that his regiments had suffered nearly 1500 casualties in five days of fighting. It was from this attack that the Germans gave the 28th a nickname that would remain with them for the rest of the war. Mistaking the red keystone emblem worn on the left shoulder of each Soldier’s jacket for a bucket, they became known as the der blutiger Eimer or the “Bloody Bucket” division. On 24 September Cota was promoted to major general and a week later his division was removed from the line and sent into corps reserve 30 miles to the south near Elsenborn, Belgium. The 112th Regiment returned from its attachment to the 5th Armored Division and the 28th spent the next four weeks refitting and recuperating from its march across France and Luxembourg. It was Cota’s first opportunity to relax since he had landed at Omaha Beach four months earlier. A major operation for Cota, his staff, and subordinate commanders was the training and incorporation of the thousands of replacements the division received during this period. The vast majority of the

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individual replacements arrived with little or no infantry training. Veterans were leery of the new men, unknown quantities who might put them at risk. Cota knew it would take weeks of hard training and shared experience to build cohesion and develop the traits and skills they would require to build combat capable small units. Cota had long been on record as being strongly opposed to the Army’s replacement system. He had recommended to his senior commanders and the Army G1 that the replacement depots should also serve as training centers rather than just another step of the long processing pipeline that pushed untrained Soldiers from the States to France and then to the front until they arrived at their designated units. The burden then fell on the battalions and companies to train the new men, a task they rarely were able to do, especially if they were conducting combat operations. He also recommended that the replacements be organized and trained as squads where they would develop the skills required to survive in combat prior to arriving at the division replacement center. The Army ignored both of his recommendations. Cota reflected on two critical areas while his unit was in reserve. The first was his performance as division commander. Most troubling to him was the plan he had developed for the attack on the Siegfried Line. He was convinced he had been overly cautious and that had he massed all six of his available battalions, the division may have broken through on the first day when the Germans were less prepared. Instead the division had gained little ground and had suffered nearly 1500 causalities in a five-day struggle, almost all of them within the infantry. He was also concerned about his relationships with his corps commander, Major General Gerow, and the First Army commander, Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges. Gerow was a leader with little personality and a reputation for being overly controlling of his subordinate commanders, especially when it came to planning operations. Hodges, a stoic, inarticulate, and unimpressive figure, delegated much of the command and control of the First Army to his chief of staff, Major General William B. Kean. Kean, a stern and driven leader, was not well liked by his staff. Some observers believed that this type of relationship between Hodges and Kean caused confusion as to who was truly commanding the First Army. This division of leadership and command had far-reaching effects throughout the First Army. Hodges rarely visited his subordinate corps and division commanders. Instead he had them return to the rear area to his headquarters to brief him. He had earned a reputation of being intolerant of any mistake and quick to relieve subordinate commanders when he suspected that they were lacking drive and initiative. With the coming mission to attack into the Hürtgen Forest, Cota had reason to be concerned about his relationships with his superiors. THE HUERTGEN FOREST The Hürtgenwald (“Hürtgen Forest”), one of the largest wooded tracts in Germany and located on the Belgian-German border, was part of the northern portion of the Ardennes region of Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Eifel region of Germany. It was 20 miles in length from north to south and 10 miles wide from west to east, with its northern limit between the cities of Aachen and Düren and stretching southwards through Monschau until it merged with the Ardennes. The forest encompassed several ridges with steep hills, many valleys, and contained some of the most rugged terrain in Europe. Between the two main ridges that bisect the forest was the Kall River, in reality not much more than a stream. A much larger water obstacle was the Roer River on the far eastern boundary of the forest. The Siegfried Line ran right through the middle of the forest, whose trees were so dense they impeded both foot and vehicular movement and at the same time blotted out the sun from reaching the forest floor. The Germans had turned the forest into a labyrinth of well-camouflaged pillboxes with interlocking fields of fire, thick belts of barbed wire, and dense minefields. The few roads and trails that bisected the forest were covered by artillery in depth.

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In early September, Eisenhower directed the Allied Forces to continue attacking on a broad front with the intent to breach the German frontier and strike deep into Germany. General Hodges’ First Army would conduct a head-on attack against the Siegfried Line, penetrate, and then drive on to the Rhine. First Army’s three corps totaled more than 256,000 men. Arrayed north-to-south on the Aachen Front was XIX Corps under Major General Charles H. Corlett, in the center was VII Corps under the command of Major General J. Lawton Collins. To the south was V Corps commanded by Major General Leonard Gerow. Hodges was unwilling to bypass the potential stronghold that the Hürtgen Forest posed for the Germans. His experiences as a veteran of the Meuse-Argonne campaign in the First World War may have biased him as he reflected on the bloody battles in and around the Argonne Forest where the Germans had used the Argonne as a staging area and thus threatened the left flank of the American offensive in 1918. That common experience caused several senior American commanders to believe that the Hürtgen posed a similar tactical problem. Hodges gave the orders for VII Corps to eliminate the threat. The Battle of the Hürtgen Forest officially began on 12 September 1944 when elements of the 3rd Armored Division, VII Corps entered the village of Rott. The advance soon stalled because of a lack of fuel and ammunition and the stiffening German defense. The 9th Infantry Division was given the mission to attack and seize the crossroads village of Schmidt and secure the right flank of VII Corps. From 5-16 October, the 9th Infantry Division entered the periphery of the Hürtgen, captured 3,000 meters and suffered 4,500 casualties before being relieved. By mid-October, American commanders no longer believed that the war would be over by Christmas. On 18 October, Hodges was informed that his First Army would be the main effort in an offensive that was to begin in less than 10 days. The objective was Cologne and the Rhine River. Hodges desired to assign VII Corps to be the main effort for First Army but first he had to free them from the Hürtgen Forest mission. By redrawing Corps boundaries, Hodges assigned V Corps the mission to attack into the Hürtgen Forest and capture the town of Schmidt. Of the four infantry and one armored division assigned to V Corps only one of them had spent the last month in reserve at a rest camp, the 28th Infantry Division. General Gerow notified Cota on 21 October to move his division north to relieve the 9th Infantry Division. Cota established his division command post in

Map of the Aachen Front, November 1944. Area highlighted in black encompasses the Hürtgen

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the village of Rott on 25 October and began coordination with the V Corps staff for future operations as his units began to occupy the 9th’s positions north of Lammersdorf. When Cota received the operations order for the attack he was perplexed and none too happy. In his mind the plan was far too direct and detailed, leaving little for him, his staff, and his regimental commanders to do except execute basically the same failed plan that had been given to the 9th Infantry Division. Hodges dictated that the 28th capture Vossenack and the tree line facing the village of Hürtgen. Gerow additionally directed that an entire regiment assault Hürtgen to the north; a second regiment attack and capture Schmidt in the center; a third regiment attack south towards Rafflesbrand. Cota disagreed with the plan. It allowed no room for initiative. It violated many of the nine principles of war, especially objective and mass. Furthermore, with the attack scheduled for 31 October and the VII Corps attack not scheduled to begin until 5 November, the 28th would be the only unit in the entire 12th Army Group on the offensive along the 150-mile front. The Germans would be able to mass against his separate regiments. He raised his concerns with Gerow and stated that instead of a division attack against a single objective (Schmidt) he was being directed to conduct three separate regimental attacks in diverging directions over some of the worst terrain in Western Europe. Cota’s arguments fell on deaf ears. Gerow tried to placate his frustrated division commander by telling him that he was going to reinforce his nine infantry battalions with a tank battalion, a towed-tank destroyer battalion, a self-propelled tank destroyer battalion, three combat engineer battalions, and a chemical (mortar) battalion. The 28th Division Artillery would also have eight battalions and a separate battery from V Corps Artillery reinforcing the division’s assigned artillery. A further six battalions from VII Corps Artillery would also be in a reinforcing role. Lieutenant Colonel Dan Strickler commanded the 109th Regiment. Strickler had been a machine gun company commander with the 28th in the First World War. The division order directed the 109th Regiment to attack north along the western ridge and seize the village of Hürtgen. First Army and Corps commanders directed this supporting effort because they feared the Germans would counterattack through the village into the left flank of the 28th as they had done several weeks before against the 9th Infantry Division, which brought to a halt their forward movement. The 110th Regiment, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Seely, was to be a supporting attack and was to move south and capture the villages of Simonskall and Steckenborn to prevent any German attacks from that direction. Two battalions would be used; the third battalion was given the mission of being the division reserve. The 112th Regiment was to be the main effort. Commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Carl Peterson, a veteran of the First World War, he had spent his entire career in the 28th. His regiment was to attack in the center of the division sector, capture the village of Vossenack, cross the Kall River gorge, and then capture Schmidt and its road network. The 112th would have to traverse more than three miles of extremely difficult and wooded terrain to reach its objective. Cota preferred to have had at least two regiments attack Schmidt but he was not given that option. FINAL PREPARATIONS It was during the final days of preparation that Cota made three crucial decisions that would have far- reaching effects on his division’s assault into the Hürtgen. The first was not to direct subordinate units to conduct patrolling into the forest. Operational questions persisted. What were the enemy’s dispositions and strengths? Where were the obstacle belts and the reinforced pillboxes? Patrolling, even if not all

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patrols were successful, would still have filled in many of the gaps that the division commander needed answered about the enemy. Corps intelligence had identified two German divisions defending east of Schmidt, the 275th and the 89th. What intelligence did not identify was that a third division was also in that vicinity, the 272nd Volksgrenadier Division, which was preparing to relieve the 89th when Cota’s division attacked. All three of these German divisions were under-strength and consisted of a mixture of both experienced and newly reorganized units. It was true there were old men and boys in the three German divisions but there were also some very experienced front-line combat units mixed in and all of them were now defending their homeland against the American invaders. The Germans would have three divisions to stop the one advancing U.S. division. The second decision was tied to the first. Cota approved the extremely narrow Kall trail to serve as the division’s main supply route (MSR). The trail started near the village of Vossenack, led down a steep gorge across the Kall River, then progressed uphill to the village of Kommerscheidt, ending only a mile from Schmidt. Aerial reconnaissance could not confirm the trails condition because of the dense forest covering. Ground patrols would have provided much valuable information, both about the enemy and the trail. Cota did assign three battalions of engineers to work on the Kall trail and improve the track across the gorge but this lack of real intelligence would prove costly, especially to the main effort, the 112th Infantry Regiment, almost as soon as the battle began. Cota’s third crucial decision was to not use armor to support his infantry. Believing that the forest would not allow access and the required road network to support tanks, he kept all but two of his tank companies and all of his tank-destroyer units in the rear to augment his division artillery. Had he discussed this with the commander of 9th Infantry Division he would have learned that tanks could operate in many areas of the forest and, with training and prior coordination; they could provide valuable support to the infantry. The 9th had assigned a tank company to each infantry regiment with a platoon supporting each battalion. Communications problems between the two arms in the dense woods were solved by having the infantry platoon leader ride on the back of the lead tank while controlling his unit by radio. They learned that by using small infantry-tank teams the infantry could provide security to the tanks while the tanks provided the firepower and mobility to keep the attack moving. The 9th also learned that when minefields and barbed wire obstacles held up the infantry the Soldiers would normally go to ground and dig-in. If tanks were supporting them, the Soldiers would press the attack. Had Cota known all of this he might have followed the 9th’s hard-learned example. Instead he attached A and C Company, 707th Tank Battalion, to his main effort, the 112th Infantry. He would rely on his artillery and five fighter-bomber groups from the IX Tactical Air Command to be his major combat multipliers. THE 28TH ATTACKS INTO THE HÜRTGEN Rain and heavy fog delayed the 28th Infantry’s attack into the area. It was an ominous sign-foreboding that the worsening weather conditions would have a major impact on the upcoming battle. In a rare visit to one of his front-line units General Hodges met with Cota and his staff on 1 November. Cota may have been confident of success when talking to his superiors but just days later when interviewed he stated that he believed that the attack had “a gambler’s chance” for success. After directing Cota to begin the attack the next day, regardless of the weather, Hodges returned to his headquarters where he told his aide that the 28th Infantry’s plan was excellent: “They are feinting to the north in hopes of fooling the Boche into the belief that this is the main effort, and then whacking him with everything in the direction of the town of Schmidt.”

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At 0800 Thursday, 2 November V and VII Corps Artillery in support of the 28th Division Artillery, initiated a 60 minute preparation into the Hürtgen Forest. They fired more than 4,000 rounds while the 28th Division Artillery fired 7,313 onto known and suspected enemy positions. As the last rounds impacted, the three regiments of the 28th climbed out of their foxholes and advanced north, east, and south towards their objectives. The 109th Infantry attacking northward got as far as the Germeter-Hürtgen road before they encountered a large minefield south of Wittscheidt. The three infantry battalions became intermixed as German artillery located north of the village of Hürtgen, and on the Brandenberg and Bergstein Ridge, pounded the advancing American infantry. German tanks then advanced south through the village, pushing the Americans back. The German defenses, dug in along the Weisser Weh valley, were impassable and within 24 hours the 109th would dig-in after suffering heavy casualties. Unable to advance without sustaining even more casualties, the 109th spent the next five days occupying positions to the south and west of Hürtgen before being relieved by the 12th Infantry Regiment, 4th Infantry Division. What had the 109th achieved? The 1st Battalion had captured part of its objective but had failed to seize the crossroads, which allowed the Germans to maintain a critical link of their supply route in the area. The 2 nd Battalion had occupied the bend in the Germeter-Hürtgen road but could never secure the high ground south of the village. The 3rd Battalion never got near its objective, having impaled itself in a minefield that no one in the regiment knew existed until they stumbled into it. With 1,275 killed, wounded, and missing in five days of combat, the regiment had suffered more than 50 percent casualties. To the south, the 110th Infantry was even less successful. The 2 nd and 3rd Battalions met strong opposition from well-entrenched German units who forced them back to their original start positions. Thick minefields, roads turned to mud, and dense woods made forward movement almost impossible. The 110th would attack several more times over the course of the next 10 days but each attack in turn failed. When the unit was finally relieved on 13 November, every officer in the regiment’s rifle companies was either dead or wounded and one battalion had only 57 men left from an original strength of more than 160. In the center, 2 nd Battalion, 112th Regiment with an attached tank company from the 707th Tank Battalion, attacked east through Germeter and quickly captured the tiny and lightly-defended village of Vossenack. Once secured, the tank-infantry team occupied the ridge beyond the town by early afternoon. The 1st and 3rd Battalions attacked from Richelskaul into the woods but could not cross the Kall River gorge due to intense German small arms and artillery fire. There was also some confusion in the routes of attack due to the fact that the two battalion commanders had made changes without coordinating with their regimental commander which only added to the frustration of the two units. Receiving reports at his command post from his regimental commanders on the ground, Cota believed it was too early to be overly concerned with the lack of success on the first day. The weather negated the use of air support for most of the day and the dense minefields near Hürtgen and Simonskall proved troubling; he hoped the next day’s attacks would prove to be more successful.

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The next day proved to be much better for the 28th Infantry. Lieutenant Colonel Peterson, the 112th commander, made the decision to bypass Richelskaul and send his battalions with the 3rd Battalion in the lead through Vossenack and onto the Kall trail. Climbing the muddy and narrow trail upward they entered Kommerscheidt meeting only light resistance and by 1300 had captured the village. Leaving the 1st Battalion to hold Kommerscheidt, the 3rd Battalion pushed forward to overcome a very surprised and negligible German force, and capture Schmidt. Cota ordered Peterson to send the 1st Battalion forward to link up with the 3rd Battalion and establish a much stronger defense, as he expected a German counterattack in response to the loss of key terrain. Lieutenant Colonel Peterson, however, recommended that a defense in depth, vice placing two thirds of the regiment forward on the Kall trail, was more practicable. Cota agreed to this recommendation and when the day ended the 112th had a battalion each in Vossenack, Kommerscheidt, and Schmidt. Had Cota visited Schmidt, he would have realized the predicament in which Peterson placed his units. With the perimeter forming a rough square and each side almost 900 yards long, Schmidt was too large an area for one battalion to defend properly. Had Cota seen the positions he likely would not have reversed his original order to reinforce the town. Tired and wet from crossing the Kall River, with little sleep in the last seventy-two hours, the men of the 3rd Battalion failed to dig proper fighting positions. When sixty antitank mines arrived at midnight they were emplaced on top of the three hard-surfaced roads leading into Schmidt instead of being dug in. Even worse, they sent no patrols forward to maintain contact with the enemy. No attempt was made to determine what the enemy might be planning to do. Had they patrolled they would have found enemy units less than a mile east of Schmidt preparing to counterattack at first light. Back at Cota’s command post, “the atmosphere at division headquarters in Rott was jubilant. Success had come far more easily than Cota or any of his staff had expected.” Notes of congratulations poured in from the other corps and divisions along the 12th Army front. If Cota had reservations about the attack before the operation, they faded away when he received word that Schmidt had been captured. In his own words he felt like “a little Napoleon.” Had he known how precarious the situation was in Schmidt and more so along the Kall Trail, neither Cota nor his staff would have gotten any sleep that night.

10

HUERTGEN

VOSSENACK

SCHMIDT

SIMONSKALL

STECKENBORN

KALL R.

KALL R.

109th

11 0th

11 2t

h

German Artillery

The initial attacks conducted by the three regiments of the 28th Infantry Division on 2-3

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There was no way Cota could have known that when his regiments began the attack on 2 November senior German commanders and staffs of the German Army Group B, the Seventh Army, and its subordinate corps and divisions, including the 74th Corps facing the 28th, were sequestered in a Cologne castle conducting a war game that included a theoretical American attack into the Hürtgen. When Army Group B’s commander, Field Marshal Model received word that several American regiments attacked into the forest and were moving toward Schmidt he directed that the commander of the 74th Corps return to his headquarters. The war game continued but Model now used actual reports from the front vice a fictional script. When Model received word that Vossenack had been captured, he directed an infantry unit from the 116th Panzer Division to move into the sector. It was this force that blunted the 109th attack south of Hürtgen on 3 November. To make matters more difficult for Cota and his division the weather worsened and would play a major factor in preventing the continuous air cover the 28th expected for its operations. German artillery dug in along the Brandenburg-Bergstein Ridge had been extremely effective and caused many casualties, especially to the 109th Regiment. The enemy artillery greatly impacted the 28th Infantry’s communications by repeatedly cutting the phone lines between battalion, regiment, and division headquarters. At the same time the American artillery failed to destroy the German artillery batteries and observation posts on the ridge. Cota’s staff received a report that the bridge crossing the Kall Trail had been destroyed but it was almost eight hours before engineers were directed to confirm the status of the bridge and the condition of the trail itself. Two officers from the 20th Engineer Battalion conducted a reconnaissance on 3 November and reported the bridge was in fact intact, in good condition, and that the trail could be used by tanks. A Company, 707th Tank Battalion, commanded by Captain Bruce Hostrup, left Vossenack late in the evening to head across the Kall. Less than a quarter of the way from the start line to the bottom of the gorge, the left shoulder of the trail consisted of large rock outcroppings. To the left there was a sharp drop-off into the gorge. At the narrowest part of the trail Hostrup’s tank began to slide in the thick mud and nearly went over the edge. The company commander slowly reversed his course, convinced that the trail would not support tanks in its present condition. Directed to work through the night, the engineers made little headway and by next morning there were still no American tanks across the Kall Trail. With Schmidt captured and believing the 112th was in a viable and supportable defense in depth, Cota focused on his flanks. Believing the road network in and around Steckenborn was vital to the success of reinforcing Schmidt, he made the decision to commit his division reserve (1st Battalion, 110th Regiment) to the south. The battalion set off after dawn on November 4 and within an hour was bogged down by a line of pillboxes near Raffelsbrand. Not only had Cota committed his reserve early in the battle to a supporting effort, he failed to identify another reserve force, though he had several tank destroyer and combat engineer battalions available that could have served in that role.

You are now the commander of the 28th Infantry Division Describe your understanding of the situation.

What can you do to increase your situational understanding?

Describe your commander’s visualization.

What actions do you need to take in the next 12-24 hours and why?

What are the challenges in achieving and sustaining situational understanding?

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module III: Transition to Offense

L431: Commander’s Visualization

L431: Reading C “Zero Defects: Command Climate in First Army, 1944-45”

Author: Major Daniel P. Bolger

Collins and Bradley are too prone to cut off heads. This will make division commanders lose their confidence. A man should not be damned for an initial failure with a new division. Had I done this with Eddy of the 9th Division in Africa, the army would have lost a potential corps commander.

Lieutenant General George S. Patton, Jr., 7 July 1 Today, many US soldiers revere the campaign in northwest Europe as the apotheosis of ground combat and thus have elevated its architects to the demigod status previously reserved for a few Civil War standouts. Dwight D. Eisenhower and his band of brothers—Omar N. Bradley, Courtney H. Hodges, George S. Patton, Jr., William H. Simpson, J. Lawton Collins, and Matthew B. Ridgway—stand etched in black-and-white group photographs, forever together and smiling, the able generals who led the final storming of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich. Or so goes the image. Such hero worship is perfectly understandable, but it misses an obvious point. Eisenhower's lieutenants were men, not gods. Consequently, his subordinate army groups and their several armies varied in operating style. Some generals displayed much more effectiveness than others. The passage of years has blurred these important distinctions. It is worthwhile to pass the mythology and glimpse the reality of the US command structure in Europe during the final year of the war. In the process, some interesting truths seem to emerge from the comforting mists of legend.

Command in the 12th Army Group

Bradley's 12th Army Group, activated on 1 August 1944, grew into the largest US ground combat force ever created. It contained four field armies, 12 corps and 47 divisions by war's end. For most of its nine months of war, 12th Army Group directed three formations: Hodges' First Army, Patton's Third Army and Simpson's Ninth Army. Though three other army groups fought in Europe—the British-led 21st in the Low Countries, the US/French 6th in southern France and the Allied 15th in Italy—the all-American 12th Army Group comprised the main effort by US soldiers. It fought the big battles—Normandy, the drive across France, the Ardennes and the Rhine crossings. Patton, Bradley, Collins, Ridgway, Walton H. Walker and James M. Gavin served in this army group and made it famous. The 12th passed its heritage directly to the modem US Army. In so many ways, from strategic focus to tactical doctrine and from officer ethics to training methods, today's Army represents the living legacy of an idealized memory of the 12th Army Group.

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The real 12th Army Group was an effective combat force—make no mistake about that. Yet, any serious examination of its operations reveals some marked shortcomings, particularly regarding generalship in one of its armies. Not everything went well. Certainly, Bradley and his subordinates had their share of victories, culminating in German surrender. They did fine work on the Normandy beaches, in the Cobra breakout, in the pursuit across France, in defending of the Ardennes and in seizing and exploiting multiple Rhine crossings. The weakened state of the German forces was a factor, but US capability mattered more in these battles. Yet, against the roll of successes, one must weigh a disturbing number of botched battles and, especially, missed chances. The hellish butchery in the Normandy bocage, the incomplete Falaise encirclement, the costly confusion before the West Wall in the autumn, the bloody fumbling about in the Hurtgen Forest, the shocking initial surprise in the Ardennes and the eventual unwillingness to pinch off the forces in that German salient, the backing and filling in the face of the Remagen bridgehead opportunity—together form a distressing litany that spans the entire length of the campaign. All of these failures become even more alarming when one notes that the First Army occupied center stage in each. That formation's key senior leadership remained largely intact during the campaign. Therefore, these reverses represent more than the usual teething problems common to new units. Something bigger, more endemic, was hobbling First Army, and it did not get better over time. The premier analyst of US command in northwest Europe, Russell F. Weigley, identified the underlying tactical weaknesses that precipitated the major crises in the First Army. He marked, "unimaginative caution" as the overriding trait of these US commanders. Most First Army generals showed themselves "competent but addicted to playing it safe." By comparison, Patton's Third and Simpson's Ninth risked more and accomplished more, with significantly fewer losses. Careful US officers in First Army avoided bold measures such as biting off the Ardennes salient at it base or plunging beyond the fortuitous Remagen bridgehead, even though these gambles might have paid off handsomely in wrecked German armies. No less an authority than Napoleon warned that, in war, the safest options "are almost uniformly the worst that can be adopted." One avoids losing, but one can also avoid winning by playing it safe. Why did First Army play it safe? Weigley believed that doctrinal flaws caused the trouble, a reasonable supposition by a diligent scholar. He zeroed in on an unwillingness to concentrate combat power and an inability to combine armor, infantry and air power as readily as the more familiar infantry- artillery team. Surely, US doctrine had its shortcomings, if one is willing to grant that armies really read, let alone follow, their written doctrine. This argument is appealing because there are possible remedies to the problem. Today's obsession with doctrinal matters indicates that Weigley's diagnosis has many adherents in uniform. But what about the fact that Third and Ninth armies had the same doctrine, yet experienced at least equal successes and suffered no similar failures? Another explanation, less often heard but more suggestive, is in order.

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This theory came from Gavin, commander of the 82d Airborne Division. As a paratroop general, he found himself shunted all over the battlefield. Thus, he had the opportunity to work with several armies, including British forces. Readily acknowledging the want of dash in the First Army, he proposed that it arose from a disturbing tendency to resort too quickly to unfair, ill-considered firings of division and corps commanders. "Summarily relieving senior officers," he said, "seems to me, makes others pusillanimous and indeed discourages other potential combat leaders from seeking high command." He went on to say, "Summarily relieving those who do not appear to measure up in the first shock of battle is not only a luxury we cannot afford—it is very damaging to the [US] Army as a whole." This airborne commander, noted for audacity and innovation, realized that subordinates must be trained and guided in combat, not axed at the first mistake. Otherwise, initiative would necessarily give way to diffidence and rote obedience. This could produce Weigley's "unimaginative caution" as readily as faulty doctrine, and probably more so. One can ignore "the book" under fire, but one cannot play fast and loose with a senior commander consistently threatening relief. It appears that both Weigley and Gavin have hit upon major reasons for the hesitation that occasionally paralyzed the First Army. Taken together, their contentions explain much, especially when considered as background to the list of those cashiered. Eleven division and two corps commanders, three from Third Army and 10 from the unhappy First, paid for perceived tactical mistakes. Simpson's Ninth sacked none. To some, the distribution between First and Third armies may appear odd. One would suppose that tough, blustering Patton might have taken the most scalps. Though Patton raged and fumed, he proved amazingly tolerant. Two of the men he removed (Charles S. Kilburn and Alan W. Jones) basically requested the action. The third, his old friend John S. Wood, had become a nervous wreck, unable to sleep more than a few minutes at a stretch. But, Wood went only after the corps commander demanded that Patton do something. "One should not act too fast" in such matters, thought Patton. This reflected his experience in 1918, North Africa and Sicily. The bulk of the sackings, including both corps reliefs, originated in First Army and showed the hands of Bradley, Hodges and Collins. This was no accident, and it helps explain that Army's uneven performance. Those who trusted in inadequate doctrine enforced their faith by readily dumping generals who failed to make such tactics work. In this, they only reflected their mentor, General George C. Marshall. Although Marshall had also approved Patton and Simpson, they had not served directly under the chief of staff in previous assignments and were not his original selections to command armies on the Continent. By contrast, the First Army brain trust—Bradley, Hodges and Collins—represented Marshall's inner circle. They were truly his men.

Marshall's Example: Minor Tactics and the Ax Marshall's chosen elite ran the European war, and they held particularly prominent roles in the 12th Army Group's First Army. Of the many men on the Army chief of staff's famous list of promising officers, he reposed special trust in those he had met while serving as assistant commandant of the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia. These included Eisenhower, Bradley, Hodges, Collins and

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Ridgway. They and almost 200 other Fort Benning instructors and students rose to wear stars under Marshall's patronage. Although an intelligent, innovative commander in the interwar years, Marshall's special claim to prowess involved his staff work in World War I. He greatly regretted his lack of combat command experience. In 1936, he wrote to his young protégé Collins that, "if a war comes along or in the offing don't let them stick you in a staff job like they did me. You insist on getting out in the field and getting with troops." It has been said that those who cannot do, teach. Nobody will ever know what sort of field soldier Marshall might have become because he never got the chance. But even so, and probably in spite of his lack of wartime experience, Marshall is reputed to be the greatest teacher of the interwar US Army. In Bradley's words, Marshall's Fort Benning served as "nursery school" for generals. Marshall was not their role model. One must be careful to note that, other than providing an example, Marshall did not really teach as much as examine and select. The frosty, reserved Marshall served as an impartial judge, not a helpful coach. It was up to the evaluated man to learn what he needed to know. Already, the assistant commandant looked toward bigger things. Like a Broadway talent director, he sized people up on first impressions, and subordinates knew it. Bradley's memoirs make it clear that he caught Marshall's eye with a meticulously choreographed display of weapons firing. Walter Bedell Smith gained Marshall's esteem when the latter overheard a scintillating snatch of Smith's classroom presentation. Most of those lucky enough to pass their audition had similar stories. Invariably, demonstrated skills at teaching or learning infantry tactics offered the best way to impress Marshall. Mistakes in the san ensured relief. Marshall breathed small-unit infantry tactics. During his tenure at Fort Benning, he revamped the curriculum and substituted more realistic, less structured map exercises and field problems for the previous rote drills. For this, he has received due credit. Marshall advocated imagination, and he claimed to have little luck with "school solutions." Many make much of the opening statement of the first chapter of his distillation of World War I combat, titled "Infantry in Battle." Here, editor Marshall states, "Combat situations cannot be solved by rule." Such pithy comments typified him in his Fort Benning years. And yet these maxims only went so far. All of the good intentions meant very little in the aggregate because the meat of Marshall's teaching referred to companies and battalions in World War I situations. Many of his thoughts did not translate directly to the higher tactical and operational levels in the World War II environment. Two examples directly bore on the doctrinal troubles later experienced in Europe. First, Marshall envisioned continuous pressure against the enemy, with reserves employed to capitalize on weaknesses found or created. A main effort might not be designated, particularly if terrain proved difficult or the enemy situation vague. Perfectly reasonable for a battalion in an attack, this advice hardly applied to an army group with limits on its resources, finite transportation and hundreds of miles to cover. Larger formations needed clearly designated main efforts to orchestrate assembling combat and supporting power.

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Second, Marshall paid no attention to tanks or aircraft or, for that matter, to any supporting arm except artillery. Again, in World War I, companies and battalions fought "pure." This would not happen in the next war, and generals would have to make many hard choices about how to allocate tanks, air power, engineers and other support. Bradley later called the narrow concern with infantry a "regrettable lapse.” More troubling were Marshall's ideas on how to make his infantry tactics work. Stripped of the exhortations to initiative, Marshall's tactical doctrine reflects a strong emphasis on rules and procedures to overcome friction. The human element is notoriously absent, not surprising for someone whose war experience consisted of moving things, not people. "Control," he wrote, "presupposes that the leader knows the location of all elements of his command at all times and can communicate with any element at any time." Lest one be misled, Marshall made it clear that "the requirement is absolute." Again, one must note that this might happen in a long-service Regular Army company. It will not happen in a mobile field army of draftees. Marshall also had a blunt solution when a unit lost control. In Infantry in Battle, one vignette described a "partly trained" unit that could not resolve contradictory patrol reports. In this case, "It would be desirable to relieve all unreliable junior officers." Since there were no rules, there were no bad tactics—only bad tacticians. Failure demanded removal. Here, then, was the result when Marshall combined his snap evaluations with his infantry tactics. As a tester rather than a teacher, Marshall judged and moved on. One officer recalled that "he expected his subordinates to be right all the time; the subordinate might be right many times and then err; he was then 'finished.' " Once a man failed, Marshall rarely granted a second chance. A great man worthy of respect, Marshall gained the permanent adulation of his loyal coterie, especially the Fort Benning infantrymen. They stood in awe of his towering intellect, his undoubting decisiveness and his rock-ribbed integrity. His charges tried to emulate him in every way, especially in his detailed understanding of minor tactics. Well they should. One slip and Marshall might swing the ax. Nobody knew that better than his old Infantry School subordinates.

Bradley's Example: Hard Times in the Bocage Bradley looked like a school teacher, and the appearance did not altogether deceive. He had instructed in the Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC), at the US Military Academy and at Fort Benning. Though in service, he missed overseas duty in World War I, and he had little experience with troops before 1941. Intelligent, if unimaginative, Bradley possessed a genial nature. While not quite the "nice guy" and "GI general" portrayed by Karl Malden in the motion picture Patton, Bradley certainly knew how to get along with most people, superior or subordinate. But of all that instructing surely made an impression. Bradley thought he knew his profession "thoroughly" and referred to his grasp of tactics and the military evaluation of terrain as his "specialties." A reporter observed that, "almost alone among eminent commanders his career shows no change of concepts, no development. He never had to develop; the ideas that led to the destruction of the German armies were there from the beginning." In short, Bradley knew his job—or thought he did. He had the greatest respect for others with similar learning, especially his old Infantry School cronies from Fort Benning, Hodges and Collins. Like him, they had learned the tactical writ from the foot of the

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master, the aloof and uncompromising Marshall. Bradley showed little patience with those who had not gained similar expertise. For Bradley, success in combat meant applying doctrine and picking the right subordinates, defined as those who knew their tactics. In Patton's sarcastic opinion, Bradley thought "that all human virtue depends on knowing infantry tactics." The "GI general" elevated or demoted officers accordingly. Despite his pedagogic background, Bradley did not emphasize training his officers. As far as he was concerned, war on the Continent equaled the final examination, to be passed or failed. In this, he saw eye to eye with Marshall. He also agreed with another Marshall man, his theater commander, Eisenhower. Ike warned him that "you must be tough with your immediate commanders and they must be equally tough with their respective subordinates." Eisenhower meant business. "We have passed the time," warned Eisenhower, for excuses. Once "you have made careful plans and preparations and estimated that the task can be accomplished," the objectives must be taken, or else. Steeled in Tunisia and Sicily, Bradley proved very tough indeed. He explained his policy on reliefs this way: "... there were instances in Europe where I relieved commanders for their failure to move fast enough. And it is possible that some were the victims of circumstance. For how can the blame for failure be laid fairly on a single man when there are in reality so many factors that can affect the outcome of any battle? Yet each commander must always assume total responsibility for every individual in his command. If his battalion or regimental commanders fail him in the attack, then he must relieve them or be relieved himself. Many a division commander has failed not because he lacked the capacity for command but only because he declined to be hard enough on his subordinate commanders." (Emphasis added.) As First Army commander, Bradley carried his faith in his Fort Benning tactics into the confusing hedgerows of the Normandy bocage. Legitimately, some might have thought to fire the Army commander responsible for the endless, indecisive grinding. Had Bradley never looked at a map of what lay past Omaha and Utah beaches? Bradley acted first. He canned four division commanders, relieved three brigadiers and, in the words of an aide, "countless regimental commanders." Although Bradley knew his tactics and bounced those who lacked the capacity to translate those tactics into victories, things did not improve much. As Patton explained, "No general officer and practically no colonel needs to know any tactics. The tactics belong to battalion commanders. If generals knew less tactics, they would interfere less." For seven weeks, Bradley did what he knew best. He interfered and fired. He launched a "massive frontal assault" with all four corps about a month after D-day, but this broad push did not work. Things looked bleak; Bradley feared a "World War I-type stalemate." How long would he last if the slugging continued unabated? Bradley eventually ended his dilemma in a way Marshall would approve. He found the right men to solve it for him. Collins, his VII Corps commander, turned out to be an aggressive, brilliant infantry officer who could exert the "control" Marshall prescribed. Collins placed battalions and maneuvered regiments. He also weeded out subordinates in good Marshall fashion. "Lightning Joe" could pull it off, and he micromanaged his corps to victory. Bradley had enough sense to ride this good horse. Bradley's tactical air chief, Major General Elwood R. "Pete" Quesada, figured out the best way to mass air power and, in the process, suggested the gist of the Cobra breakout plan. During a meeting to

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allocate resources, Quesada argued passionately against continued dissipation of tanks and guns among the corps. Make one corps "overwhelmingly strong," Quesada recommended, and he guaranteed continuous close air support over every column. The infantrymen present—Bradley, Hodges, Collins, Charles H. Corlett, Troy H. Middleton and Leonard T. Gerow—looked surprised. Previously, First Army simply divided up the pie equally. Now this pilot, who obviously knew nothing of fundamental Fort Benning-style infantry tactics, had broken in with his unprecedented suggestion. Bradley, who was not stupid, saw an opportunity. Collins was clearly the best corps general. Why not give him the bulk of the Army's combat power? So Operation Cobra was concocted. It worked. Bradley's success in Cobra allowed him to activate the 12th Army Group and turn First Army over to Hodges, a Marshall man who had been Bradley's deputy and understudy since early 1944. He had watched and learned, all right.

Hodges' First Army: Grim Intensity Hodges took over his post with the highest accolades from Marshall. "Hodges is exactly the same class of man as Bradley in practically every respect," effused the chief of staff in a letter to Eisenhower. He listed the infantry officer's good points: "Wonderful shot, great hunter, quiet, self-effacing, thorough understanding of ground fighting, DSC [Distinguished Service Cross], etc., etc." Commissioned from the ranks in 1909, winner of the DSC as a battalion commander in the Meuse- Argonne and noted by Marshall as a solid Fort Benning instructor, Hodges looked like a sure winner. Bradley praised him as "a military technician whose faultless techniques and tactical knowledge made him one of the most skilled craftsmen of my entire command." Most of Bradley's First Army subordinates would have wondered about whom their former Army commander was talking. True, Hodges shared Bradley's belief in the importance of sound infantry tactics and willingness to relieve problem officers. However, he lacked Bradley's intelligence, communicative skills and energy. Hodges did not display any noteworthy degree of intelligence, a marked contrast to Marshall, Eisenhower, Bradley, Patton, Collins and most of the rest. His dogged adherence to book-learned tactics said little for his imagination. Patton wrote that "even the tent maker [Bradley] admits that Courtney is dumb." Yet, there he was, an Army commander. Obviously, he knew the right people, if not the best ways to think. Hodges, who failed out of West Point as a youth, appears to have been extremely sensitive about that, which may account for his few utterances and well-known reticence. This shyness and, indeed, inarticulateness made it hard for Hodges to communicate his intent to his subordinates. He abdicated much day-to-day authority to his acerb chief of staff, Major General William B. Kean Jr., who badgered subordinates incessantly in Hodges' name. Since Hodges said very little himself, subordinates could never be quite sure which were the Army commander's directives and which were Kean's personal opinions. If they guessed wrong, they paid for it. When Hodges did give personal instructions, he preferred to use vague oral orders. Even so, he usually included some very explicit, concrete directive among his paucity of words. This is not to say that

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Hodges communicated his intent in his terse remarks; he seldom explained why any operation was happening. Rather, the general would salt an absolute requirement or two, usually expressed in terms of some defined terrain objectives, into his verbal messages. It took quite a bit of experience to become comfortable with these types of "orders." Those who did not adapt quickly enough lost their positions. The inability to pluck meaning from Hodges' spare verbiage could result in accusations of disobedience, one of Hodges' real pet peeves. He believed that a subordinate's failure to carry out First Army's will, however poorly expressed that will might be, represented a lack of loyalty. The general expected his officers to adhere strictly to orders and procedures and to carry out their missions. He had almost no tolerance for concerns, complaints, bad news, extra questions or anything he considered excessive in terms of requests for support and supplies. Given Hodges' sensitivity about his own intelligence and his lack of speaking skills, it is hardly surprising that this general refused to discuss orders, let alone argue about them. Orders were to be followed, period. Finally, Hodges proved to be much less energetic than Bradley. He rarely traveled forward from his various command posts. From 1 August to 16 October, during the fighting around Mortain, the drive across France and the initial attacks into Germany near Aachen, Hodges visited his XIX Corps exactly 13 times and went to one of the corps' divisions once. This did not stop him from firing Corlett, the XIX Corps commander, at the end of that period. The First Army commander preferred to recall his subordinates for lengthy conferences in the rear and even set up an extra command post to facilitate these councils of war. Naturally, this put a premium on reports from the fighting corps; woe to the fast-moving corps that lost contact with the swollen Army headquarters sites! John Millikin of III Corps lost his command for poor reporting, among other sins. Hodges spent most of his time simply hanging around his headquarters "doing nothing." Old Fort Benning friend, Collins, his "fair-haired boy," became Hodges' premier fighter, just as he had carried the ball for Bradley. He relished the opportunity. If Hodges wanted victories sure to appease his chain of command and benefactors, the ambitious Collins would deliver. He and his VII Corps starred in every key First Army operation. Hodges' usual rules did not apply to Collins who worked as almost a coequal on many occasions. Some felt Collins should have received First Army when Bradley left for the 12th Army Group. For his part, Collins shrewdly backed the insecure Hodges, giving what First Army Air Chief Quesada called "boundless loyalty." Collins made Hodges look good, and the Army commander chose not to interfere with Collins. Other corps commanders, who resented Collins' special status and personal relationship with the unapproachable Hodges, had to tread carefully. One division commander groused that Hodges "did little without the advice and support of Collins." The eager VII Corps commander obviously made recommendations about his peers, as well as his own subordinates. Since Collins also believed in quick firings, it is unclear who influenced whom when he and Hodges got together to discuss relief issues in First Army. Hodges relieved four division and two corps commanders. In the first three cases, including that of the XIX Corps commander, Collins played an important role. Bradley, up at 12th Army Group, showed personal interest in sacking Lindsay M. Silvester of the 7th Armored Division who had been given a second chance by Patton after some earlier trouble. Hodges, of course, agreed with his two old Fort Benning colleagues.

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These reliefs, especially that of Corlett in XIX Corps after his successful fight near Aachen, poisoned the command climate in the First Army, with predictable effects in the field. Times were already hard enough, with stiffened German resistance, foul autumn weather and serious logistics troubles. First Army needed to pull together in the face of adversity. But Hodges did not invite suggestions for resolving the quandaries. Instead, he named terrain objectives: "Schmidt," "Huertgen Forest." His dispirited generals "trudged" ahead "with a serious and grim intensity," in Bradley's words. Armored division General Ernest N. Harmon summarized the First Army effort differently: "slow, cautious, and without much zip." He might have added "costly." Despite Hodges' persistence in the usual ineffectual broad-front pushes, fears of relief apparently quashed any dissent. Hodges ordered his corps into the deathtraps of the Huertgen Forest, yet he did not make it clear that he wanted the Rur River dams beyond the woods that could have been seized by other routes. Nobody dared to ask "why" in the Huertgen Forest. With Collins' corps leading, division after division plunged into the evil forest and backed out mangled. No generals objected. General Donald A. Stroh of the 8th Infantry Division finally took the town of Huertgen and asked for a brief leave—his son had just died in action. Hodges rewarded him with a leave and relieved him from command. The fighting sputtered on from October until February, bleeding units dry. While the Huertgen purgatory persisted, Middleton of VIII Corps and Colonel Benjamin A. "Monk" Dickson of the First Army staff worried about a German counterattack through the Ardennes, but both tread carefully around Hodges, who couldn’t have cared less. Eisenhower and Bradley told Hodges not to worry, so he did not. His men paid for his lack of concern. When the Germans attacked in force in mid-December, Hodges nearly broke down. Eisenhower intervened, giving Ridgway and his XVIII Airborne Corps to Hodges. He also ordered a major counterattack by Patton's Third Army and a supporting attack by the British to the north. All of this, plus good fighting by US soldiers of all ranks, saved First Army. Hodges did not lose his job, although the thought crossed both Eisenhower's and Bradley's minds. Shaken by the attack, Hodges became even more pessimistic and cautious than usual and directed the most conservative possible counterblows once the German offensive ran down. He still showed no qualms about removing a new division commander who bungled his first attack. Perhaps, like Bradley had said, Hodges figured that if heads had to roll, he would prefer to cut rather than be cut. Hodges did not distinguish himself in the operations after the Ardennes fighting. In his February offensive toward the perennial objectives, the Rur River dams, he launched another broad-front effort through the outskirts of the Huertgen Forest. This proceeded so indifferently that even Bradley thought his old First Army "fell down on the job," although he blamed the staff, not Hodges. More threats of relief in the lead division finally brought the dams into First Army hands. When Millikin's III Corps jumped the Rhine at Remagen ahead of all other Allied forces, Hodges worried rather than rejoiced. He fretted about the narrowness of the thrust and criticized Millikin, saying "there has not been sufficient control" over the opportunistic operation. First Army dithered in exploiting the bridgehead, Hodges smoldered, and Millikin lost his corps.

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To a great extent, most of the delays could be attributed to Hodges' uncertainty about continuing across the Rhine. Eisenhower preferred crossing in the north, in the British sector. For his part, Bradley worried as much about defending Remagen from possible German counterattacks as about getting across in force. Bradley and Hodges hemmed and hawed and tried to talk Eisenhower into accepting reality instead of sticking with the plan. Meanwhile, poor Millikin paid the price for his boldness. He distinguished himself as the 13th Armored Division commander in the remaining weeks of the war, indicating that the fault probably lay elsewhere.

Price of 10 Reliefs: The Reckoning

Under Bradley and Hodges, First Army claimed to have gained efficiency from its hard command policy. It was first ashore in Normandy, first into Germany, first across the Rhine and first to reach the Elbe River. Bradley recalled with pride that his old First "had borne the brunt of the really tough fighting." Unstated in Bradley's tribute are two salient points worth remembering. The First Army fought tough battles, all right, but it too often made things rough on itself. The Normandy bocage, the Hurtgen Forest and the Ardennes did not occur spontaneously. But there was more, even worse. The First gained another distinction. "It also," Bradley admitted, "buried more American dead" than his other armies. Here was one price of being "hard enough" on commanders. Interestingly, thanks to the victories they did win and their certainty in naming and dumping culprits for their setbacks, none of the principles paid for their mistakes. Bradley, who had believed and tried Marshall's ways, went on to be US Army chief of staff, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and to wear five stars. Collins, who had been able to make the Marshall system work in battle, rose to four stars and also served as chief of staff. And Hodges, the least able of the three by far, sustained by his faith alone, very nearly took his First Army into the invasion of Japan on Marshall's enthusiastic recommendation. Only the Japanese surrender and Hodges' retirement, shortly thereafter, prevented his further advancement. Patton, whose name and image are invoked far more readily in today's Army than his actual fighting and leading techniques, saw the dangers of lionizing these Marshall men. "Sometimes I get desperate over the future. Bradley and Hodges are such nothings." He understood, but he did not like it. Their type, not his, survived to place an indelible stamp on the US Army.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: The Art of Command/Module III: Transition to Offense

L431: Commander’s Visualization

L431: Review Reading A ADP 6-0 Chapter 2: Excerpt

THE ROLE OF COMMANDERS IN OPERATIONS Commanders must remember that the issuance of an order, or the devising of a plan, is only about five per cent of the responsibility of command. The other ninety-five percent is to insure, by personal observation, or through the interposing of staff officers, that the order is carried out. General George S. Patton, Jr. 2-67. Commanders are the central figures in command and control. Commanders, assisted by their staffs, integrate numerous processes and activities within their headquarters and across the force as they exercise command and control. Throughout operations, commanders balance their time between leading their staffs through the operations process and providing purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinate commanders and leaders.

2-68. The Army’s framework for exercising command and control is the operations process—the major command and control activities performed during operations: planning, preparing, executing, and continuously assessing the operation (ADP 5-0). Commanders use the operations process to drive the conceptual and detailed planning necessary to understand, visualize, and describe their operational environment and the operation’s end state; make and articulate decisions; and direct, lead, and assess operations as shown in figure 2-2.

2-69. The activities of the operations process are not discrete; they overlap and recur as circumstances demand. Planning, preparing, and executing do not always have distinct start and end points. Planning is a continuous activity within the process. While preparing for one operation, or during its execution, units are refining the current plan or planning for future operations. Preparation always overlaps with planning, and it continues throughout execution for some subordinate units. Assessing surrounds and permeates the other three activities as commanders and staffs judge progress toward accomplishing tasks and achieving objectives. Subordinate echelons or units within the same command may be in different stages of the

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operations process at any given time. (See ADP 5-0 for a detailed discussion of the operations process and the commander’s role in planning, preparing, executing, and assessing operations.) 2-70. Commanders, staffs, and subordinate units employ the operations process to integrate and synchronize the warfighting functions across multiple domains and synchronize forces to accomplish missions. This includes integrating numerous processes such as intelligence preparation of the battlefield, the military decision-making process, and the targeting process within the headquarters and with higher echelon, subordinate, supporting, and supported units. The unit’s battle rhythm integrates and synchronizes the various processes and activities that occur within the operations process.

2-71. Commanders are the most important participants in the operations process. While staffs perform essential functions that amplify the effectiveness of operations, commanders drive the operations process through understanding, visualizing, describing, directing, leading, and assessing operations as shown in figure 2-3 on page 2-14. Accurate and timely running estimates maintained by staffs assist commanders in understanding the situation and making decisions throughout the operations process.

Figure 2-3. The commander’s role in the operations process

UNDERSTAND 2-72. An operational environment encompasses physical areas of the air, land, maritime, space, and cyberspace domains as well as the information environment, the electromagnetic spectrum, and other factors. Understanding an operational environment and associated problems is fundamental to establishing a situation’s context and visualizing operations. The interrelationship of the air, land, maritime, space, and cyberspace domains and the information environment requires a cross-domain understanding of an operational environment. While understanding the land domain is essential, commanders consider the influence of other domains and the information environment on land operations. They also consider how land power can influence operations in the other domains. For example, commanders consider how friendly and enemy air and missile defense capabilities influence operations in the air domain. Included within these areas are the enemy, friendly, and neutral actors who are relevant to a specific operation. 2-73. Part of understanding an operational environment includes identifying and understanding problems. Ianthe context of operations, an operational problem is a discrepancy between the current state of an operational environment and the desired end state. An operational problem includes those issues that impede commanders from accomplishing missions, achieving objectives, and attaining the desired end state. 2-74. Commanders collaborate with their staffs, other commanders, and unified action partners to build a shared understanding of their operational environment and associated problems. Planning, intelligence preparation of the battlefield, and running estimates help commanders develop an initial understanding of their operational environment. Commanders direct reconnaissance and develop the situation to improve

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their understanding. Commanders circulate within the area of operations as often as possible, collaborating with subordinate commanders and speaking with Soldiers. Using personal observations and inputs from others (including running estimates from their staffs), commanders improve their understanding of their operational environment throughout the operations process. Ideally, perfect understanding should be the basis for decisions. However, commanders realize that uncertainty and time preclude achieving perfect understanding before deciding and acting. VISUALIZE 2-75. As commanders begin to understand their operational environment, they start visualizing a desired end state and potential solutions to solve or manage identified problems. Collectively, this is known as commander’s visualization—the mental process of developing situational understanding, determining a desired end state, and envisioning an operational approach by which the force will achieve that end state. Figure 2-4 depicts activities associated with developing the commander’s visualization.

2-76. In building their visualization, commanders first seek to understand those conditions that represent the current situation. Next, commanders envision a set of desired future conditions that represents the operation’s end state. Commanders complete their visualization by conceptualizing an operational approach—a broad description of the mission, operational concepts, tasks, and actions required to accomplish the mission (JP 5-0).

Figure 2-4. Commander’s visualization

DESCRIBE 2-77. Commanders describe their visualization to their staffs and subordinate commanders to facilitate shared understanding and purpose throughout the force. During planning, commanders ensure subordinate commanders understand their visualization well enough to begin course of action development. During execution, commanders describe modifications to their visualization in updated planning guidance and directives resulting in fragmentary orders that adjust the original operation order. Commanders describe their visualization in doctrinal terms, refining and clarifying it as circumstances require. Commanders describe their visualization in terms of— Commander’s intent. Planning guidance, including an operational approach. Commander’s critical information requirements (CCIRs). Essential elements of friendly information. DIRECT

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2-78. Commanders direct action to achieve results and lead forces to mission accomplishment. Commanders make decisions and direct action based on their situational understanding maintained by continuous assessment. Throughout the operations process, commanders direct forces by— Preparing and approving plans and orders. Establishing command and support relationships. Assigning and adjusting tasks, control measures, and task organization. Positioning units to maximize combat power. Positioning key leaders at critical places and times to ensure supervision. Allocating resources to exploit opportunities and counter threats. Committing the reserve as required. LEAD 2-79. Commanders lead by example and personal presence. Leadership inspires subordinates to accomplish things that they otherwise might not. Where a commander locates within an area of operations is an important consideration for effective mission command. Through leadership, commanders provide purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinate commanders, their staffs, and Soldiers. There is no standard pattern or simple prescription; different commanders lead differently. Commanders balance their time among command posts and staffs, subordinate commanders, forces, and other organizations to make the greatest contribution to success. (See ADP 6-22 for a detailed discussion of leadership) ASSESS 2-80. Commanders continuously assess the situation to better understand current conditions and determine how an operation is progressing. Continuous assessment helps commanders anticipate and adapt the force to changing circumstances. Commanders incorporate the assessments of their staffs, subordinate commanders, and unified action partners into their personal assessment of the situation. Based on their assessment, commanders adjust their visualization and modify plans to adapt the force to changing circumstances.

2-81. A commander’s focus on understanding, visualizing, describing, directing, leading, or assessing throughout operations varies during different operations process activities. For example, during planning commanders focus more on understanding, visualizing, and describing. During execution, commanders often focus more on directing, leading, and assessing—while improving their understanding and modifying their visualization as needed. (See ADP 5-0 for a detailed discussion on assessing operations.) GUIDES TO EFFECTIVE COMMAND

There will be neither time nor opportunity to do more than prescribe the several tasks of the several subordinates.... [I]f they are reluctant (afraid) to act because they are accustomed to detailed orders… if they are not habituated to think, to judge, to decide and to act for themselves ... we shall be in sorry case when the time of “active operations” arrives.

Fleet Admiral Ernest J. King 2-82. The guides to effective command help commanders fulfill the fundamental responsibilities of command. A commander’s use of these guides must fit the situation, the commander’s personality, and the capability and understanding of subordinates. Command cannot be scripted. These guides apply at all levels of command. Mission command provides a common baseline for command during operations and garrison activities. These guides aid commanders in effectively exercising command and inculcating mission command: Create a positive command climate. Ensure unity of effort. Train subordinates on command and control and the application of mission command.

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Make timely and effective decisions and act. CREATE A POSITIVE COMMAND CLIMATE

Morale is a state of mind. It is that intangible force which will move a whole group of men to give their last ounce to achieve something, without counting the cost to themselves; that makes them feel they are part of something greater than themselves.

Field Marshall Sir William Slim 2-83. Commanders create their organization’s tone—the characteristic atmosphere in which people work. This is known as the command climate. It is directly attributable to the leader’s values, skills, and actions. A positive climate facilitates team building, encourages initiative, and fosters collaboration, mutual trust, and shared understanding. Commanders shape the climate of their organization, no matter what the size. 2-84. Successful commanders recognize that all subordinates contribute to mission accomplishment. They establish clear and realistic goals and communicate their goals openly. Commanders establish and maintain open, candid communication between subordinate leaders. They encourage subordinates to bring creative and innovative ideas to the forefront. They also seek feedback from subordinates. The result is a command climate that encourages initiative.

2-85. A positive command climate instills a sense of trust within units. It facilitates a strong sense of discipline, comradeship, self-respect, and morale. It helps Soldiers develop a desire to do their fair share and to help in the event of need. In turn, Soldiers know their leaders will guard them from unnecessary risk.

2-86. In a positive command climate, the expectation is that everyone lives by and upholds the moral principles of the Army Ethic. The Army Ethic must be espoused, supported, practiced, and respected. Mission command depends on a command climate that encourages subordinate commanders at all levels to take the initiative. Commanders create a positive command climate by—

Accepting subordinates’ risk taking and errors. Building mutual trust and shared understanding. Communicating with subordinates. Building teams. (See AR 600-20, ADP 6-22, and FM 6-22 for more information on creating a positive command climate.)

L432

Decision Making

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

Advance Sheet for L432

Decision Making

1. SCOPE

It was like Dunkirk revisited. Twice. The U.S. Army in Korea moved from near annihilation to spectacular victory, back to ignominious

defeat in the space of six months—all under the leadership of one of America’s most famous generals. How did this happen and what can we learn about decision making from key organizational-level leaders in 1950 Korea?

In this lesson, you analyze the dynamics of decision making in large-scale combat operations. The case

study focuses on key U.S. military leaders during the opening months of the war in Korea—General Douglas MacArthur, MG Ned Almond, MG OP Smith, MG David Barr, BG Henry Hodes, COL John MacLean, and LTC Don Faith. You analyze the major decisions they made to determine how they formed their situational understanding and why they chose one course of action over another. You also analyze the various commanders’ capacities to assess situations and draw conclusions while identifying and adjusting to external influences. Your analysis of leader decisions from the case study provides critical insights into what influences their decision-making, the challenges of achieving situational understanding, using appropriate influencing and communication techniques as an organizational leader, and applying judgment within the mission command framework and decision making. This lesson supports previous instruction in the L100 common core leadership lessons, as well as the lessons on complexity and commander’s visualization. Furthermore, this lesson is a foundational lesson in the course and you can apply many of the insights you glean from this lesson to inform the decisions you make during the large-scale combat operation scenario in AOC.

As a result of this lesson you obtain a better understanding of how organizational level leaders make

decisions, the factors that influence decision making, and a better understanding of the understand, visualize, and assess components of the commander's activities as part of the operations process.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite Learning objective: TLO-AOC-1, “Examine how commanders drive the operations process using the framework of understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess (UVDDLA).” This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10, “Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare,” as listed in the AOC block advance sheet. ELO 10.6 Action: Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making. Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of

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Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes— 1. Analyze how psychological traps affect decision-making; 2. Analyze the impact of experience on decision-making; and 3. Analyze how judgment affects decision-making and risk management. Learning Domain: Cognitive, Level of Learning: Analysis CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements (1) First Requirement:

Read: L432RA: Robert Rielly, “Defeat from Victory: Korea 1950,” Command and General Staff

College, Fort Leavenworth. [29 pages] While reading the case study, focus on four key decisions: MacArthur’s decision to appoint Almond as X Corps commander; MacArthur’s decision to resume the offensive in November 1950; Almond’s decision to continue the attack on 28 November; and Generals Smith, Barr, and Hodes’ decision to leave Task Force (TF) Faith.

L432RB: Ted Thomas and Robert Rielly, "What Were You Thinking?” Interagency Journal, Vol.8, Issue 3 2017. pgs. 98-105 [7 pages]

L432RC: United States. Department of the Army. ADP 6-0 Mission Command. Washington, DC: Headquarters. Dept. of the Army, 2019. Paragraphs 2-10 through 2-29 “Decision Making” [3 pages]

Optional: L432ORA: Biography of General MacArthur [5 pages] L432ORB: Smith, Charles R. U.S. Marines in the Korean War. Washington, DC: History

Division, U.S. Marine Corps, 2007. Biographies of Generals Almond and Barr, Colonels Murray and Litzenberg and MG O. P. Smith. [9 Pages]

For additional readings on this topic, consider:

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Klein, Gary. "Chapters 3, 5, and 7." In Sources of Power: How People Make Decisions. MIT Press. These are the essential chapters for understanding the Recognition-Primed Decision Model and intuitive decision making.

For a more in-depth analysis of actions in Korea, consider the following books:

Appleman, Roy Edgar. East of Chosin: Entrapment and Breakout in Korea, 1950. College Station: Texas A & M University Press, 1987. This book provides the specific details on TF Faith.

Blair, Clay. The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953. New York: Times Books, 1987. Considered one of the best histories of the Korean War. Blair’s book discusses the backgrounds, leadership, and decisions of the key leaders.

Halberstam, David. The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War. New York, NY: Hyperion Press, 2007. This book provides insight into the relationship between MacArthur and Almond and discusses why decisions were made.

Stanton, Shelby L. America's Tenth Legion: X Corps in Korea, 1950. Novato, CA: Presidio, 1989.This book provides insight into MG Almond and his leadership in X Corps.

Taaffe, Stephen R. MacArthur’s Korean War Generals. University Press of Kansas, 2016. This book provides an analysis of the leadership styles, personality and decision making of the key commanders. (2) Second requirement: Case study worksheet: The case study worksheet is available in

Blackboard under the Art of Command area. This is a study aid. Your instructor explains its use in class. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in the case study.

(3) Third requirement: Reflective questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

Which key decisions demonstrated a lack of situational understanding? What psychological traps affected the commanders’ decision-making?

How did the prior experiences of the different commanders influence their decision-making? What role did intuition play in the key decisions? Are the commanders exercising good judgment when making decisions? Should higher commanders always defer decisions to the commander on the ground? Is it permissible to disregard an order? How did the psychological traps affect risk assessment?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access:

L432 leadership advance sheet and readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession FM 3-0, Operations (w/change 1), 6 December 2017

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5. ASSESSMENT PLAN During L432, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson as part of the

overall learning objective for AOC. During this lesson, your instructor assesses you on your contribution to learning and demonstrated knowledge of the course material. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. Refer to the L400: Art of Command Block Advance Sheet for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

L432: Decision Making

L432: Reading A Defeat from Victory: Korea 1950

Author: Bob Rielly As General Douglas MacArthur, Commander in Chief Far East Command (FEC) and Commander of UN Forces Korea, strode arm-in-arm with Korean President Syngman Rhee into the National Assembly chamber of the Republic of Korea in Seoul, he could not help but feel vindicated. Just a few short months ago, North Korean forces had nearly thrown the United Nations forces off the Korean peninsula. Faced with an American Dunkirk, MacArthur had pulled off what some were calling one of the greatest feats in military history—landing forces at the port of Inchon close to Seoul and behind North Korean lines, turning the tide of the war. The North Korean forces were now retreating north, chased by LTG Walton Walker’s Eighth Army, which had broken out of the Pusan perimeter. MacArthur had prepared for this moment his entire life and had silenced all his critics. When the war began on June 25, 1950, “Douglas MacArthur was seventy years old, sinking into obscurity, and often inattentive to his office work. He would later be reported to have called the war in Korea ‘Mars’s last gift to a warrior.’ Whether his words or those of an imaginative journalist, that phrase is not far from historic fact. North Korea’s action was reminiscent of that of Japan in 1941, at least as far as MacArthur’s career was concerned. In both cases, an enemy invasion rescued him from a backwater position of marginal authority over a waning occupation, the Philippines or Japan. However, in neither instance was he ready when the bell rang for the first round.” At seventy years old, he was the senior officer in the American Army. He had had an extraordinary career, the youngest officer to attain whatever position he attained. He also put immense energy into making sure his image was the proper one, and that he got the maximum amount of credit for any victory, while his subordinates received as little credit as possible. Despite his errors at the start of World War II, he was hailed as a national hero by the end of the war. However, he firmly believed the U.S. had abandoned the Philippines and resented what happened. In the last year, MacArthur had been at odds with the Truman administration over Formosa. Chaing Kai-shek and his Chinese Government fled to Formosa following their eviction from mainland China by Chinese Communist Forces (CCF). MacArthur was convinced Formosa was vital to U.S. security because he felt it served as a bastion against Communist influence in the Pacific. Although MacArthur had some supporters in the administration, there were others who did not see the criticality of Formosa, including the Secretary of State. During World War II, MacArthur’s headquarters was openly hostile to President Roosevelt, his administration, the military chiefs in Washington, and the commanders in other theaters. The situation was no different in 1950. Marine MajGen O.P. Smith wrote that MacArthur’s staff “had absolute contempt for the Truman administration. Their idea was the only man in the world who knew anything about the situation in the Far East was General MacArthur.” Called “The Bataan Gang,” MacArthur’s staff was intensely loyal to him. At the start of the Korean War, a disproportionate number of his top men had been with him since the late 1930s. It was the most exclusionary of groups–anyone who was not an insider was suspect. MG Ned Almond, his chief of staff, was a rare exception and managed to become part of his inner circle. “Most of his decisions,” said his

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World War II aide, “were against the majority of his staff.” The staff’s job was to fill in the details that made specific plans from his broad concepts. MacArthur’s chief of staff was one of the more controversial members of his staff. MG Edward “Ned” Almond was a rarity on MacArthur’s staff because he served in Europe during World War II and had never served with MacArthur. One of Almond’s most formative experiences was during World War I when he served as a machine gun battalion commander. The experience taught him there “was little margin of error in directing MG fire close to the men it supported, and Almond witnessed adverse episodes where specific orders were not obeyed.” The need to keep machine guns moving in offensive situations heightened his impatience at any slow response. During World War II, Almond commanded the 92nd Infantry Division–an African American unit in a segregated army. “COL Almond met Marshall’s peculiar criterion for black unit command but he lacked the troop-leading experience normally considered essential for division-level appointment. Almond spent twenty-one of his twenty four years of military service in staff and school positions, and his field portfolio was remarkably slim.” The 92nd Division performed poorly during the war due in part to Almond’s racism. “Despite calls for his removal from the black press, (General) Marshall continued to have confidence and ignored calls for his removal.” “Almond remained completely unscathed by the 92nd’s poor performance record. He remained confident of his own infinite patience and fairness in leading the division–blaming his men instead for combat losses and morale difficulties.” Following the war, in May 1946 “MG David Barr (the future commander of the 7ID) telephoned Almond and offered him military attaché to the Soviet Union. Almond refused the job. Barr reminded Almond that unless he took the Moscow assignment, he would have to fill one of the general officer vacancies in the Pacific. Almond realized (his) refusal had derailed his career.” Taking the job in the Pacific, Almond was able to get a position on MacArthur’s staff because he knew MacArthur’s current chief of staff. Almond was initially an outsider to MacArthur’s inner circle, but his close friendship with the chief of staff and unabashed admiration for MacArthur slowly gained him a reputation for dependability. On February 18, 1949, General Almond was selected as MacArthur’s chief of staff. MacArthur’s “style of command imposed great demands on this position, because MacArthur customarily dealt with subordinates exclusively through his chief of staff.” MacArthur depended on his chief of staff, because “Almond’s intimate knowledge of the complexities of the FEC domain was phenomenal. Almond served as the trusted counsel to the commander and they were in and out of each other’s offices constantly. Almond was one of MacArthur’s most fervent disciples and never shrank from the most difficult assignments. Almond’s keen intellect and closeness to the throne of MacArthur made him one of the most powerful and controversial generals in the Far East.” Almond was hard driving and all business. “Almond was feared and obeyed throughout the FEC. His all-consuming obedience to MacArthur was combined with an impassioned love of work molded in his Spartan college years at VMI. He drove himself hard and he demanded the same degree of hard-driving loyalty from his subordinates. Known as a ‘whip-cracking’ chief, underlings quivered when he scowled at them, prefacing his low flash point to anger. Higher officers were not so intimidated, but they knew Almond’s instructions carried the weight of MacArthur’s directives.” “One of Almond’s numerous high-echelon functions for General MacArthur was the interception and transmission of calls to and from the field generals. Although this service was a duty imposed by the supreme commander, Almond’s intercession generated open enmity with General Walker of the Eighth Army. Walker’s own loyal staff members believed that Almond was deliberately undermining and isolating their commander from MacArthur at every opportunity. They sneered that Almond’s cozy

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Japanese war room was distant from events sweeping southern Korea. The relationship between Almond and Walker, which was never good to begin with, eroded as their mutual animosity intensified.” Trusted because of his past reputation–after all, he won the Army’s campaigns in the Pacific with limited troops and resources– the administration gave the general a new opportunity to conduct a climactic battle before a world audience that could ensure him a premier place in the annuls of war. MacArthur “probably had more autonomy than any other officer in American history, but that did not mean he conducted unilateral enterprise–before or during the Korean War. He commenced operations at the behest of the national authorities, or at least with their acquiescence, although he might then drive the effort beyond the boundaries they had in mind.” The Truman administration was not without its problems. Following World War II, Truman had made drastic budget cuts each year in the military despite a general belief that there would be a confrontation with the Soviet Union in the future. Although Truman had to make tough decisions on fiscal priorities– most notably between foreign aid (The Marshall Plan) and the military budget–his defense cuts fueled a vocal opposition. The Inchon Decision In June and July of 1950, it was hard to imagine a U.S. victory in Korea. Outnumbered and outfought, the small number of U.S. and UN forces had been steadily pushed down the length of Korea and ultimately found themselves holding a shrinking perimeter around the port of Pusan. When the North Koreans invaded, “the Truman administration thought they were just a bunch of bandits, easy to defeat, but feared damage to its credibility if unwilling to commit its armed forces to this place in Asia where it had no plans to fight at all. Far better, from President Truman’s perspective, to wage a limited conflict in Korea than an all-out war in Europe where the West had yet to amass the strength to defend this primary prize.” “The United States Army would go to war totally unprepared. The first American units thrown into battle were poorly armed, in terrible shape physically, and more often than not poorly led. The mighty Army that had been victorious in two great theaters of war, Europe and Asia, just five years earlier was a mere shell of itself. Militarily, America was a country trying to get by on the cheap, and in Korea it showed immediately. The blame for the poor condition of the Army belonged to everyone: the president, who wanted to keep taxes down, pay off the debt from the last war, and keep the defense budget down to the bare-bones level; the Congress, which if anything wanted to cut the budget even more; and the theater commander, MacArthur, under whose aegis the troops had been so poorly trained, and who had only five years earlier said that he did not really need the troops Washington had assigned him. The Army of this immensely prosperous country, rich now in a world that was still poor and war ravaged, was threadbare. It had been on such short rations, so desperately underfinanced, that artillery units had not been able to practice adequately because there was no ammo; armored groups had done a kind of faux training because they lacked gas for real maneuvers; and troops at famed bases like Fort Lewis were being told to use only two sheets of toilet paper each time they visited the latrine. There were so few spare parts for vehicles that some enlisted men went out and bought war surplus equipment at very low prices, using their own money, in order to break it down for spare parts. If there was any upgrade in weaponry, it was almost exclusively in the planes and weapons being designed for the Air Force, not in the weapons employed by the infantryman.” Conditions in Korea during the first few months of the war did not deter MacArthur. As early as late June 1950, he had already begun to envision the amphibious envelopment that would win the war and

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establish his legacy. MacArthur was determined to avoid a strategy in which American forces were ground up in traditional infantry tactics in harsh terrain by a numerically superior enemy. Inchon not only offered a quick result, but also a fast exit from Korea and the ability to start preparing forces in Europe. His optimism, however, was not shared by everyone. Members of the Joint Chiefs as well as LTG Walton Walker, commander of Eighth Army, whose forces would have to break out of the Pusan perimeter to link up with the Inchon landing force, had reservations concerning the suitability of Inchon, the availability of forces and resources and the distance from Pusan. “The North Koreans holding the central position could split, isolate and defeat.” MacArthur’s forces in detail. The Joint Chiefs favored landing at Kunsan which “would provide immediate relief to the battered Eighth Army” and was “far less dangerous than the deep envelopment” envisioned by MacArthur. Furthermore, the situation in Pusan was getting desperate. Commanders were sacrificing units to stabilize the perimeter and buy time. The commander of the Eighth Army, LTG Walton Walker, graduated from West Point in 1912 and earned two Silver Stars as a machine-gun company commander in World War I. In the mid-’30s, Walker served as the executive officer in an infantry brigade commanded by George Marshall. In 1939, Walker served as the executive officer for the War Plans Division. After the start of World War II, Walker joined George Patton, commanding an armored brigade, armored division and finally a Corps. As the commander of Patton’s XX Corps, Walker often spearheaded Patton’s drive through Germany and France. Patton rated Walker on par with Collins and Ridgway and commended his boldness and success, stating he was a “fighter in every sense of the word.” Patton also said Walker was “a fine soldier (who) has never yet complained about any order he has received.” Walker was given command of Eighth Army by Omar Bradley in 1948, but he was not MacArthur’s choice. MacArthur considered the generals who had served in Europe “enemies.” Therefore Walker had two strikes against him: he fought in Europe and he had the wrong friends—Eisenhower, Marshall, and Bradley. “Complicating this relationship (with MacArthur) was an almost instantaneous clash between Walker and Almond. Since Walker was senior to Almond by one star, he may have resented Almond’s influence with MacArthur or at least Almond’s apparent determination to isolate MacArthur from everyone, including Walker. Possibly Almond was jealous of and resented Walker’s appointment to command Eighth Army, a job Almond himself was qualified for (as a senior Major General) and may have wanted. Whatever the reasons, there was no chemistry whatsoever between the two men, and the initial clash soon escalated into such bitter hostility that they could not communicate with civility.” MacArthur chooses Almond As the planning for Inchon progressed, it became clear that the commander for X Corps — the unit created to conduct the assault—would need to be involved quickly. Almond, in his role as chief of staff, had been doing most of the planning. “Almond was aware that Army protocol required MacArthur to coordinate with the Pentagon for a commander of such an important unit. Leadership of a corps in combat was a plum assignment reserved for the War Department’s inner clique of favored generals.” MacArthur, however, had other ideas. MacArthur picked Almond to command the corps without consulting the Pentagon, and in addition kept him as his chief of staff. The Joint Chiefs were perturbed Almond was chosen without consultation– especially the Marines who were the amphibious assault experts. General Lawton Collins, Army Chief of Staff, “was particularly incensed over the choice of Almond as X Corps commander. Their mutual dislike caused, in Almond’s own words, ‘a stormy relationship.’ Although Almond was a senior major general, he was one star below the customary rank of corps command and had no prior knowledge of amphibious

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operations. Collins believed that MacArthur displayed little grasp over operational demands by keeping General Almond on as chief of staff, with corps command as extra duty. The very fact that Almond would acquiesce to such a situation, in Collins’ opinion, confirmed his bad judgment.” MacArthur also determined that X Corps would report directly to him and not fall under Eighth Army. “Collins believed MacArthur had conjured up such a cumbersome and irregular arrangement as a deviation to permit Almond’s avoidance of service under Walker. To Collins, the extensive size of X Corps was merely a contrivance that undercut Eighth Army by draining it of many critical specialty units. In his opinion, the separate status of the corps outside Eighth Army jurisdiction violated one of the most elementary principles of war: unity of command.” According to Stanton, “General MacArthur elevated Almond to the command of X Corps for one simple reason: loyalty. Inchon was going to be difficult and he wanted someone who would not shrink before the task. Plus Almond would follow MacArthur’s wishes unquestionably.” Almond was devoted to MacArthur because he gave him a chance at a major command during a major wartime operation. A Marine commander, on the other hand, would have shared his loyalty with the Marine Corps. Almond versus the Marine Commanders X Corps would initially consist of two divisions, the 1st Marine Division and the 7th Infantry Division. The principle assault unit for Inchon was the 1st Marine Division and its commander was Major General Oliver Prince (O.P.) Smith. Smith was highly professional, wary of hubris, almost deliberately non- charismatic, and most important of all, respectful of his adversaries. He had been the assistant division commander during the battle of Peleliu in September 1944, one of the worst disasters of the Pacific War. It took a full month of yard-by-yard and cave-by-cave fighting to capture the island. General Smith and Almond “were completely opposite in almost every quality except one, extreme pride, which doomed both men to dislike each other. Almond was brash and dictatorial; Smith was refined and polite.” Saddled on the Marine commander’s shoulders was the future of the Marine Corps. “Relations between the Army and Marines were at a low ebb. Just months previously, on October 17th, 1949, Commandant of the Marine Corps, Gen Clifton B Cates, had charged that the Army general staff was attempting to ‘destroy’ the Marine Corps. The entire Corps totaled only 74,279 men at the end of June 1950 and was facing drastic budget cuts. It was no secret that the U.S. Marine Corps was striving for survival when the war in Korea erupted on June 25.” In the era of atomic warfare, many believed amphibious assaults were finished. The President and many in the Pentagon believed having a Marine Corps was no longer necessary, especially in an era of budget cuts. The Marines countered they were the nation’s force in readiness and were indispensable. From the end of World War II, the Marines fought political battles to keep the Corps alive and try to prove its relevance with diminishing funds and forces. When the Korean War erupted, the Commandant of the Marine Corps quickly offered a provisional brigade to MacArthur. MacArthur, already considering an amphibious landing wanted the Marines and their air wing. The Joint Chiefs had misgivings about providing the Marines but rather than “risk either MacArthur or Congress’s ire,” authorized their inclusion. MacArthur initially wanted the Marines to offload in Japan but the situation on the Korean Peninsula was so critical, they were sent immediately to the Pusan Perimeter. The initial Marine brigade was centered around the 5th Marine Regiment, commanded by LtCol Raymond Murray. MacArthur soon expanded his request to a full Marine division.

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Major General O. P. Smith and Almond clashed immediately over the planning for Inchon. Almond even colluded with MacArthur to exclude the Marines from the planning conference. “From the start, top Marine officers had felt that Almond, who had never been part of an amphibious landing in his life, minimized the dangers and difficulties, was improperly respectful of their needs, and did not listen to anyone he outranked.” Almond remarked “I got the impression that General Smith always had excuses for not performing at the required time the tasks he was requested to do.” The Marines wanted to change the landing site and went to see MacArthur. Almond met them and refused to change the plan. Unlike MacArthur, General Collins and Admiral Forrest Sherman, Chief of Naval Operations, felt no need to hide their apprehension about taking an awful gamble with the landing at Inchon. However, they (as well as the other Joint Chiefs) were reluctant to overrule the theater commander who was placed in that position to be the expert on the spot. Both officers went to Tokyo in late August to try and talk MacArthur out of Inchon. “Collins had been a captain teaching tactics at the infantry school when MacArthur was Chief of Staff of the Army. The older man did not hold youth against officers he judged worthy of being protégés, such as Matt Ridgway and Ned Almond. In World War II, he still thought Collins ‘too young’ for high command in (the Pacific), a potential career stopper in 1943. Thanks to George Marshall, under whom Collins served at the Infantry School, he shipped out of the Pacific for Europe, where Collins became (General Omar) Bradley’s favorite corps commander. In 1949, when the latter became Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Collins was his candidate for successor as army chief of staff and hence the JCS representative to any theater commander responsible to the Department of the Army.” “The army had an informal way of preventing the predicament he (Collins) faced, where the nominal authority calls a man ‘general’ and he, in turn, is called ‘Joe.’ When an individual such as Collins becomes chief of staff in his early fifties, passed-over officers usually put in for retirement. This was especially likely for those not part of what MacArthur called the ‘Marshall clique’ that ran the Department of the Army after World War II. His former ground component commanders, Walter Krueger and Robert Eichelberger, had already retired; not (MacArthur)–especially if a war with China over Formosa might be on the horizon.” Following their unsuccessful visit, the Joint Chiefs gave conditional approval to MacArthur’s plan on August 29th. Fellow senior officers commented that MacArthur “believes in himself, his destiny, and his place in history.” “It was more than confidence which upheld him,” thought MajGen Smith, the Marine selected to command the assault division at Inchon. “It was [a] supreme and almost mystical faith that he could not fail.” On September 7, 1950 the Joint Chiefs asked MacArthur for a new estimate on feasibility because of their perceptions that his headquarters was providing incomplete answers to their questions. MacArthur normally got his way through persuasion and stealth but in this case he presented the Joint Chiefs a fait accompli. MacArthur dispatched a major who was told to not get to Washington too fast and who finally did the brief on 14 Sept–the day before the landings. In the long run, what MacArthur did at that moment damaged him with the Chiefs. He was playing games with “peers, men with four stars, who felt they were as responsible as he for the lives of the young men in his command and the success of the operation.” Inchon and the breakout from Pusan succeeded beyond almost everyone’s expectations. “If there was one serious flaw in (MacArthur’s) plan, it was the totality of his success, which gave him, if anything, more leverage over Washington and the Chiefs. Because he had stood up for it against everyone else, on all other issues afterward it was hard to stand up to him. He had been right at Inchon and those who

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doubted him had been wrong” However, there were some problems following the landing. MacArthur ordered Almond to capture Seoul instead of sealing off the escape of the fleeing remnants of the North Korean Army, now being pursued by the Walker’s Eighth Army. “Walker would have bypassed the city partly from his memory of bogging down in Metz, an urban fortress that cost his WWII command over 2,500 casualties in late 1944.” Almond and MacArthur didn’t agree with Walker. Thus, “some 50,000 North Koreans escaped across their southern border partly because personal agendas and prewar resentments affected execution of the plan.” The relationship between the Marines and the commander of X Corps continued to deteriorate during the fighting for Inchon and Seoul. “Almond’s tendency to show up unexpectedly at forward locations and interrogate local commanders and soldiers about the ongoing situation caused considerable displeasure.” “Through his daily visits Almond became familiar with every corps officer through the battalion level, as well as scores of men in the ranks. One confided, “The soldiers here may not like him, but they sure as hell admire him. That’s one general who sticks his neck out just like we have to.” General Smith was miffed by Almond’s rude failure to follow common precepts of military courtesy in conducting these visits. “Almond never saw any problem with this tendency and felt fully justified in visiting any Marine units whenever he pleased. He stated ‘my action was that of a commander who wants to succeed by coordinating his troops as much as possible. I always announced in advance my intention to visit such and such units and I usually expected the commanding officer to be present. What I found out, especially in the case of General Smith, was that I could go to the front line and find out for myself the existing conditions more rapidly than I could get them through division headquarters.’” Furthermore, “Almond resented the news spotlight on Smith’s Marines as conquerors of Inchon, because he felt slighted that his role as corps commander of the greatest offensive was being ignored. As far as Almond was concerned, the Marines had balked during the planning stages and were now grabbing all the glory.” “Almond believed during the battle for Seoul that the Marines did not understand the higher strategic implications of the X Corps mission. Smith wanted to destroy the North Korean Army while Almond needed to get government installed.” “After Inchon, Almond began demanding immediate results, which Smith, trying to complete the increasingly deadly mission without unnecessarily sacrificing the lives of his men, thought unrealistic. Smith (and most of the other senior Marines) came to believe that Almond was an unrealistic commander, a man who listened only to the voice of the man above him and was careless with his orders, insensitive to the lives of the men in his command, and far, far too concerned with public relations.” “Almond wanted Smith to splinter his regiments to capture Seoul. Almond was appalled at the tantamount insubordination of Smith’s argumentative refusals. Given Almond’s propensity to relieve subordinates who gave him dissatisfaction, it was obvious that only Smith’s globe and anchor saved him from prompt sacking. Almond could not afford the wrath of the Joint Chiefs of Staff if he fired a Marine commander. Instead, he repeated his strong disapproval of frontal attacks against the cities’ western defenses, stressed that time was essential and further delays would not be condoned.” Almond believed Smith wanted to capture Seoul singlehandedly for the glory of the Marines. Smith felt Almond was placing too much emphasis on the capture of Seoul than in trapping the retreating North Korean forces, many of whom were escaping north. He believed the North Koreans would defend Seoul street by street and “it would be more prudent to conduct the American attack out of one solid, closely coordinated formation.” Smith was not going to fragment his division and risk casualties to speed up the capture of a city.

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Almond decided to bring in the 32nd RCT from the 7th Infantry Division to execute a flanking attack on Seoul. The Marines were infuriated because of the increased risk and the capture of Seoul was now no longer a Marine responsibility. “The Almond-Smith feud permeated Almond’s tenure of corps command during 1950. To Almond, the marines possessed fighting courage but lacked appreciation for higher authority. In his opinion, the Marine strategy was confined by training and mental objectivity to rigid and unimaginative tactics.” The Chinese Intervene No sooner had the debate over Inchon ended than the discussion over how far north to go and the specter of Chinese intervention began. On the one hand were men in the Truman administration and the Pentagon like MacArthur and Almond who thought there was shame in stopping at the thirty-eighth parallel, a loss of prestige–especially considering how the war started. Proponents likened it to appeasement–“a timid, half-hearted policy designed not to provoke the Soviets to war.” In their opinion, the UN had to send a clear signal that aggression would not pay. Furthermore, MacArthur argued stopping on a line farther back would keep U.S. forces on the peninsula, which was not a good idea when you expect a war in Europe. Besides, “MacArthur believed in the supremacy of American airpower. It had won battles for him in the Pacific (although they were directed) against immobile Japanese targets.” On the other hand there were others in the administration and the Pentagon like Walker who thought they should “stop a hundred miles north of 38th parallel, along the narrow neck of that part of the peninsula on a line that went roughly from Pyongyang to Wonson, and leave roughly two thirds of the country, much of it uninhabited wilderness, untouched. That penetration would have been easier to secure, to defend and to supply and it would have made any Chinese or North Korean attempt to attack vulnerable to U.S. airpower.” Concerned about possible escalation of the war, “the Joint Chiefs informed MacArthur on September 27th that his military objective was the destruction of the North Korean armed forces, but under no circumstances were his forces to cross Manchurian or Soviet borders. MacArthur replied that the Eighth Army would attack across the 38th parallel with the objective of seizing Pyongyang. X Corps would make an amphibious landing on the east coast at Wonsan and then drive across the peninsula to help Walker take the capital.” South Korean forces crossed the parallel on 30 September. On October 3, Chou En-Lai, China’s foreign minister, stated in a tough public announcement the Chinese people “absolutely will not tolerate foreign aggression (in Korea) nor will they supinely tolerate seeing their neighbors being savagely invaded by imperialists.” In private he spoke to the Indian ambassador and told him that “if UN forces other than ROKs crossed the 38th Parallel, China would send troops into North Korea to oppose them.” MacArthur sent U.S. forces across on October 9th. MacArthur’s staff and the CIA all advised the President that Chinese intervention was unlikely. On October 15, MacArthur met President Truman on Wake Island and assured him that Chinese intervention would have been decisive earlier in the war but not now. After the meeting on Wake Island, everyone thought resistance was all but over. The Government went back to the fall election, and MG Charles Willoughby, MacArthur’s G2, went back to editing MacArthur’s official history of the southwest Pacific. On 17 October, MacArthur moved “the northern boundary for U.S. operations to the Songjin- Sonchon line, approximately 40 miles south of the Yalu River. This was north of the limit the JCS cited back on September 27th. MacArthur specified only South Korean troops were to cross the new boundary. On October 24th the latest line of restraint became the newest line of departure as MacArthur enjoined field commanders to drive forward at all speed and with full utilization of all their force.”

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On October 19th, U.S. forces captured Pyongyang and established positions along the Ch’ongch’on River, further fueling the idea that the war would be over shortly and the North Korean Army was finished. The Chinese threats up to that time were not taken seriously by the Pentagon, the State Department or the White House. MacArthur claimed he understood China but in reality had spent no time there. According to some historians, he based much of his knowledge on how he saw a defeated Japan rather than a victorious China. “MacArthur didn’t ask questions because that would imply there was something he didn’t know. He showed astonishingly little curiosity about who his enemy was and why they had been so successful in the past.” In addition, the recent communist victory over the Nationalist Chinese “did little to enhance the reputation of the successor regime. PLA superiority was thought to result from the poor quality of the competition, except among a handful of American observers such as Major General David Barr.” On the 6th of October, China entered the war not to spread communism but to protect itself from a powerful enemy moving toward its borders. “Entering the war (would) be proof that the new China could no longer be abused and exploited by foreign powers.” China believed it could not establish socialism in China with U.S. forces on its border. Its leaders feared a failure to intervene would mean that the new China was no different from the old, a “powerless giant when facing what was in their eyes the armies of western oppression.” In addition, eighty percent of Chinese heavy industry was located in Manchuria, the Chinese province bordering North Korea. At the same time the U.S. was capturing Pyongyang, troops of the Chinese Fourth Field Army consisting of 120,000 men began crossing the Yalu at night and on foot successfully avoiding detection. The Third Field Army–about 120,000 men–began to move to Manchuria. The Chinese commitment would consist of thirty divisions, about 300,000 men. Much of the U.S. leadership based their assumptions about the CCF on their experience fighting the Japanese in the Pacific. They failed to grasp the differences between the Chinese and Japanese armies. “The Chinese were the least industrialized of major nations, understood their vulnerabilities and adjusted their tactics accordingly. They moved divisions up to 15 miles at night with little support and used handmade caves during the day.” None of the commands prepared their troops for how the Chinese would fight. The CCF did not use frontal assaults, they moved at night on foot and slipped along the flanks of the enemy, looking for soft spots while taking up positions behind them in order to cut off retreat. The CCF moved quickly at night and off roads. They were not encumbered by heavy weapons or supplies. There was a larger, cultural issue in the U.S. military following World War II. There was a distinct rift between the men who fought in Europe and those that fought in the Pacific. Following the war, the Pentagon was dominated by the generals who fought in Europe and, in a self-perpetuating system, they continually turned over key assignments to their trusted subordinates. In addition, their experiences dominated the way they viewed the enemy. “No small amount of the tension came from the way World War II had been fought in two very different theaters. The Army men who fought the Germans in Europe had been able to bring in vastly superior firepower, and often, when a German unit cracked, large numbers of them surrendered and the rest retreated quickly, allowing the Allies to race ahead and make major gains. The men in the Pacific (Marines and Army) on the other hand, fought a far more grinding war, and when the Japanese gave way they did it ever so slowly, the Allied advances often seeming to be measured in yards, while relatively few Japanese surrendered.” When UN forces were 50 miles from the Manchurian border, China decided to take action. Their original plan was to concentrate on defense and wait until the UN Forces were overextended and then attack, isolating their formations and destroying them piecemeal. However, having U.S. forces 50 miles

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from their border was too close and they would have to act whether they were ready or not. As UN forces continued to drive to the Yalu, China began to concentrate three armies to face the Eighth Army. While the Chinese began to concentrate, X Corps finally began to land at Wonsan, which had already been captured by Walker’s I ROK Corps which had fought its way east after crossing the parallel. “Walker thought MacArthur’s decision to send X Corps to Wonsan was illogical and risky. It would take too much time and complicate supply lines.” “The Joint Chiefs also were dubious of the amphibious maneuver but felt they could not question the judgment of the man whose Inchon operation had won acclaim for all Americans, including his political enemies.” After X Corps landed, “Walker thought he would get (control of) X Corps but MacArthur informed him that X Corps will take over all operations in eastern Korea and operational control of I ROK Corps. In addition, Walker (had) to provide logistical support for all UN forces in Korea.” After landing at Wonsan, X Corps’ original mission was to attack west and assist Eighth Army in the capture of Pyongyang. Once Pyongyang was captured, the orders were changed to attack north in zone parallel to Eighth Army with the Taebaek mountain range as the boundary between the units. The Taebaek Mountains, which rose to heights of 7 to 8,000 feet and had very few roads, were a significant obstacle which would prevent the two commands from providing mutual support. Almond established his headquarters ashore on 20 October. For operations in eastern Korea, he would have the 1st Marine Division, the 7th Infantry Division, and the ROK I Corps. On 26 October Almond issued orders for his plan of operation. The I ROK Corps was to split into regimental sized units and move up the coast advancing as rapidly as possible to the border. The 1st Marine Division was to split into three regimental combat teams (1st, 5th and 7th Marine Regiments), each with separate missions and advance on the Corps’ left flank toward the border. The 7ID would also break into columns and advance in zone to the border. The 7th Marine Regiment on the extreme left flank of X Corps was to relieve the ROK forces in sector and advance to the Chosin Reservoir. “The wide gap between the two major tactical organizations of the UN Command in Korea caused great concern to Eighth Army and some of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington; but less concern in X Corps, and very little, apparently, to General MacArthur. He believed the mountainous backbone of North Korea was so destitute of roads and usable means of communication that it would be impossible for the UN forces” to maintain communications and unusable to the enemy for military operations. Almond liked to break big forces down into little ones. This went against everything Smith had learned but he would not complain to MacArthur. Smith had a nervous respect for MacArthur and believed he condoned Almond’s actions. “Almond was demanding, arrogant and impatient, had a tendency to fragment his units, as well as to send units forward without sufficient reserves or very much concern about whom, if anyone was on their flanks. He was courageous to the point of recklessness and expected everyone else to be. But this attitude was interpreted by many subordinate officers as a callous indifference to casualties and the welfare of his men.” Almond believed, however, the nature of the terrain necessitated the fragmenting of his forces. By the end of October, UN forces were facing logistical problems caused by long supply lines and a shortage of transport. However, the general feeling among commanders in Korea was the war was all but ended. Plans were already being made to redeploy at least a division to Europe. The Eighth Army operation above the Ch’ongch’on River was essentially a continuation of the pursuit that had started with the breakout from the Pusan Perimeter; the U.S. I Corps was on the left, the ROK II Corps on the right. “The UN Command expected little organized opposition from the enemy and emphasized a speedy advance to the northern border. Several columns were to strike out northward with little or no physical

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contact between them. The advance was not too closely coordinated; each column was free to advance as fast and as far as possible without respect to gains made by others.” When the attack began, gaps of 20 to 30 miles were opening up between units as they raced north. On Oct 24, MacArthur ordered Walker and Almond to drive north with all possible speed. The Joint Chiefs had previously restricted the use of non-ROK forces operating in North Korea. MacArthur no longer limited the use of U.S. forces. “When asked why by the Joint Chiefs, MacArthur replied that the South Korean forces lacked sufficient force and experienced leadership to seize the Yalu River border. He said it was a military necessity and he reminded the Joint Chiefs that General Marshall (Secretary of Defense) had recently told him to feel unhampered tactically, and concluded by hinting at dire consequences if any other course of action were taken.” MacArthur still did not take the threat of Chinese intervention seriously even though intelligence forces in North Korea were reporting Chinese as early as 15 Oct. The Joint Chiefs approved the drive to the Yalu as the way to end the war quickly and unify Korea. Both the Joint Chiefs and Truman wanted the war over quickly so they could prepare forces in Europe, their strategic priority. Truman also saw a victory as beneficial for the Democratic Party in the upcoming election. The CIA concluded China would not intervene without the Soviets. Almond and Barr In addition to the 1st Marine Division, one of the other principle units in X Corps was the 7th Infantry Division commanded by MG David Barr. “The same man who telephoned Almond offering a Moscow assignment in 1946, and then transferred him to the Pacific after he refused the position. Almond knew Barr as a fellow southern officer from Alabama since their days as captains together in WWI. Barr had spent most of his World War II combat service as chief of staff for Sixth Army Group in Europe. General Barr was considered a ‘China hand’ and had acquired valuable firsthand knowledge of communist Chinese tactics while in charge of the Army mission to China. Previously the Eighth Army chief of staff (where he had experienced several bristling encounters with Almond), he received command of the 7th Infantry Division because of seniority.” Barr was considered a brainy staff officer but not a strong battlefield commander. His G2 wrote “I admired and respected General Barr. He was courtly, kind, friendly, very intelligent, capable and I think, aware of his shortcomings (as a field commander).” Barr’s aide-de-camp remembered “He didn’t look or act the part of a commanding general. He was rumpled and round, a super guy, but more like a father figure. He was not the best leader or field general.” Despite their opinions, his staff thought he was a better commander than MG Almond. “Despite their pre-World War II friendship, Almond and Barr were not on amiable terms. Almond viewed Barr as a ‘junior’ officer because Barr’s rank as a major general was two years behind his own. He also considered Barr to be quite lean in command experience. In actuality, Barr was only slightly junior to Almond in total commissioned service and his qualifications to lead a division were probably superior to Almond’s own when selected for the 92nd.” “Although hidden by their opposite personalities, both men shared the same capabilities: strong staffers with much southern heritage, but marginal experience in command. Almond was brash and forceful, and Barr was polite to a fault and much meeker. General Almond could disguise any leadership weaknesses by intense dynamism, which invariably placed the blame for delay or failure on vacillating subordinates. Barr was an easy target for such abuse because he lacked self-confidence and was too honest to deny problems in his command.” “One X Corps staffer said ‘He (Barr) was a fine man but he didn’t have a clue to how a division worked.’” Another wrote “He was an inept, vacillating commander who exasperated General Almond continuously (and) only their long friendship kept him from being relieved by General Almond.”

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Following the fighting around Seoul, Almond sent a letter to Barr criticizing the performance of the 7th Infantry Division. “The letter thoroughly alarmed Barr. It was now obvious that Almond would be corps commander indefinitely and as long as he enjoyed MacArthur’s favor, no Army officer could afford his retribution. Barr was not in the Marine Corps where he might be shielded from career ruination at Almond’s whim. Barr felt the intensified pressure and ordered his subordinates to react with immediate obedience to every Almond suggestion.” The First Chinese Attack When Walker’s forces crossed the Ch’ongch’on River on October 24, the bulk of the CCF was still moving south. However, two divisions were in position to attack the II ROK Corps on the right flank. The Chinese began their attack on the isolated columns at mid-day, destroying an entire regiment by nightfall.

On 25 October, the 1st ROK Division on the right flank of the Eighth Army captured a Chinese prisoner who told them many Chinese had crossed the border. “On October 26, General MacArthur was celebrating the arrival of a patrol of the 7th Regiment, ROK 6th Division at the Yalu. At the same time the remainder of the 6th ROK Division ceased to exist as an effective fighting force and the remainder of the II ROK Corps was close to collapse.” By 1 November, the Eighth Army was forced to stop its advance. However, X Corps was still pressuring units to move forward. In the east, Almond told the Marines to continue moving forward. On 2 November they encountered and attacked Chinese forces, beginning a week-long battle around Sudong and ultimately inflicting heavy losses on the CCF. On 30 Oct Almond flew to Chosin to see 16 Chinese prisoners taken by the ROK I Corps. He confided in his subordinates that they were “not intelligent” and ridiculed their appearance, calling them a bunch of “Chinese laundrymen.” Almond was briefed that these troops were Chinese regulars and their division had crossed the Yalu in October. The prisoners stated they were members of the “CCF 124th Division and that a sister division was close by.” Almond sent a message to MacArthur informing him the corps had captured Chinese army troops. MacArthur’s G2 was MG Charles Willoughby, who came to MacArthur’s attention in 1935 while teaching military history at Fort Leavenworth. In 1938, Willoughby sent MacArthur a history book he

Map #1 from United Nations Advance to the Yalu River and Initial Chinese Counterattack from the USMA website

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wrote and applied to serve with him in the Philippines. He joined MacArthur’s staff in 1939. In the history book, he revealed his contempt for Chinese forces fighting against the Japanese. Up until this time he was convinced that the time for Chinese intervention had “long since passed.” Willoughby’s views were influenced by his devotion to MacArthur. The X Corps G3 explained “MacArthur did not want the Chinese to enter the war in Korea. Anything MacArthur wanted, Willoughby produced intelligence for” “Willoughby’s views powerfully influenced those of the entire intelligence community in the FEC. A challenge to Willoughby’s views was tantamount to a challenge to MacArthur’s views. No one in the intelligence community was willing to undertake that challenge.” This included the Eighth Army G2. Almond believed what MacArthur believed–“Chinese forces were definitely on the front, although the extent of their presence was in dispute. Almond realized it was now imperative to get the rest of his corps into action.” On 1 November, the CCF had driven back the ROK II Corps, crippling it disastrously, and the right flank of Eighth Army was open. The collapse of the ROK II Corps caused Eighth Army to rush elements of the 1st Cavalry Division to the Unsan area to protect the open flank. When briefed they may be facing Chinese forces, their reaction was one of disbelief and indifference. In the meantime, the remaining elements of Eighth Army which were having success in their pursuit and were only a few miles from the border were ordered by General Walker to withdraw back behind the Ch’ongch’on River. This order disturbed MacArthur’s headquarters, who telephoned Eighth Army about the withdrawal. Eighth Army had to explain why “General Walker and his staff considered it advisable.” By nightfall on 1 November, the CCF had surrounded the 8th Cavalry Regiment (lead regiment of the 1st Cavalry Division) on three sides. The situation in the Eighth Army was getting desperate and units had to get behind the Ch’ongch’on to establish a coherent line of defense. On November 3, knowing it was hopeless and Chinese forces liked to ambush relief columns, MG Gay, under orders from his Corps Commander to pull his division back, made what he later called the hardest decision of his career. He ended all relief operations and left behind the men of the 8th Cavalry Regiment. Once all its forces were behind the Ch’ongch’on River, the Eighth Army was able to stop the Chinese and inflict heavy losses. Since the beginning of October, Air Force planes were prohibited from operating within fifty miles of the border. By the end of October this prohibition was eased to allow close air support by experienced pilots and tactical air control parties. On 5 November, without consulting Washington, MacArthur ordered bridges across the Yalu bombed to stop Chinese troops and material from entering North Korea. When the Joint Chiefs found out, they ordered MacArthur to postpone all bombing of targets within five miles of the border. MacArthur replied at once with one of the strongest protests he ever dispatched to Washington, arguing that his proposal was within the rules of war and the resolutions and directions he had received so far, and that it constituted no act of belligerency against Chinese territory. He also stated the restriction placed on him by the Joint Chiefs would result “in a calamity of major proportions for which he could not accept responsibility.” The Joint Chiefs gave authorization on 6 November. “Thereafter, land-based and carrier-based planes attacked the Yalu bridges almost daily during the rest of the month, and the doctrine of ‘hot pursuit’ into the enemy’s Manchurian sanctuary soon became a burning issue, not only in the battle zone but in the diplomatic capitals of the world.” “By the end of the first week of November, it was clear that Chinese Communist Forces had intervened in the Korean war. This intervention, long feared by some and expected by others, had become a fact. The intervention came in sufficient force to drive Eighth Army back to the Ch’ongch’on River and to delay the advance of X Corps in the east toward the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir. After accomplishing this, the Chinese Communist Forces withdrew from immediate contact with Eighth Army behind a screen

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of North Korean soldiers. The big question now loomed–what was the purpose and extent of the Chinese intervention?” The Chinese unexpectedly withdrew on November 5th because they had outrun their supplies and did not want to press a bad situation. They had inflicted 15,000 casualties on the UN forces, prevented MacArthur from unifying Korea by Thanksgiving, and won time for North Korean troops to reform, reposition, and gain battle experience. Although they had been decisive in their engagements with ROK forces, they had only destroyed one non-ROK regiment (the 8th Cavalry Regiment). Their sudden withdrawal sparked a renewed debate in Korea, the Pentagon, and the Truman administration over whether the Chinese intervention was serious. Some thought they had withdrawn because they were hit hard and had sustained heavy losses while others thought they had broken contact to give the UN time to reconsider its actions. From the time of the UN offensive on 24 October to the time the CCF withdrew on 5 November, UN forces had captured 96 prisoners from six different Chinese armies. The initial estimate at Eighth Army headquarters based upon prisoner reports was that Chinese troops were reinforcing North Korean units in defense of border approaches only; there was “no indications of open intervention on the part of the Chinese Communist Forces in Korea.” “Although the Chinese Communist government had several times openly stated it would intervene if UN Forces other than ROK troops crossed the 38th parallel, American authorities were inclined to disbelieve this and to consider these statements to be in the nature of a threat and diplomatic blackmail.” Neither Washington nor the CIA conducted their own intelligence assessment. They relied on MacArthur’s staff, which had no indications of large CCF troop movements, and no one at this point questioned the analysis of MacArthur’s staff. The UN Resumes the Offense The lack of enemy activity in front of X Corps during the second and third weeks of November prompted the Corps intelligence officer to state officially on 18 November that “...the enemy’s recent delaying operations are apparently concluded and he is once again withdrawing north. The speed of his movements has caused a loss of contact at most points.” General Almond himself did not think that the Chinese had intervened in the Korean War in force. “At the end of the third week in November, as UN forces made ready to resume their attack toward the border of Korea, Eighth Army intelligence estimated there were about 60,000 Chinese troops in Korea.” With the withdrawal of the CCF by mid-November, confidence was restored. The command saw logistical problems and the performance of the ROK Forces as the causes for the Chinese success. Both MG Willoughby and the Eighth Army G2 put the estimate at the number of Chinese forces in North Korea at 34,000. The UN had 250,000 troops. MacArthur used the break to reconstitute his forces and isolate the battlefield with air power. He was still confident he could continue the offensive. MacArthur ordered the Eighth Army and X Corps to press on independently toward the Yalu. The offensive date was set for 15 November but was postponed until the 24th when Walker said he could not get the logistics support he needed. On the night of Nov 9-10 the first snow fell and the temperature dropped to 8 degrees below zero with a 20-30 knot Siberian wind. At this time of the year there was 16 hours of darkness each day. While Eighth Army was striving to overcome the logistical difficulties that delayed its resumption of the attack in mid-November, X Corps in northeast Korea continued its headlong rush to the border against

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scattered and ineffective opposition except in the 1st Marine Division sector below the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir. “In the meantime, MacArthur’s intelligence sources identified the Kanggye area—deep in the north central mountain vastness of Korea—as the assembly area for the reconstitution of the North Korean People’s Army as well as the possible main avenue of march for reinforcing Chinese contingents.” MacArthur believed that a lateral advance by X Corps slightly to the northwest beyond the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir could create a choke point and cut the primary enemy interior supply network south of Kanggye. This in turn would effectively prevent the enemy from organizing a strong defensive redoubt against Eight Army columns moving up Route 7. On Nov 10 the FEC Operations officer sent a personal note to Almond emphasizing the importance of rendering all possible assistance to Eighth Army. On November 15th Almond was ordered to re-orient his attack from the Yalu to supporting Eighth Army. Almond made the decision to support Eighth Army with the Marines while directing the 7th Infantry Division to continue its movement to the Yalu. “The Marines in Tenth Corps were to drive west to Mupyongni, perhaps forty or fifty miles away, but each mile likely to be impassible, on roads that might or might not exist, getting there would allegedly link X Corps with Eighth Army, encircling any troops in the area and cutting off their escape.” However no direct communication was possible between Eighth Army and X Corps because they were separated by the Taebek mountain range. On 15 November, Col Homer Litzenberg’s 7th Marine Regiment occupied Hagaru-ri at the southern end of the Chosin. Almond was stressing the need for speed, telling his subordinates, “We’ve got to go barreling up that road.” Smith, on the other hand, was telling his staff, “We’re not going anywhere until I get this division together and the airfield built.” He still had his third regiment (1st Marine Regiment) guarding the MSR up to the Chosin. “Smith was reluctant to commit his troops to a winter campaign he was logistically unprepared to fight, and, faced with unrealistic demands from X Corps, Smith had slowed the Marines advance to the point of insubordination.” Smith also took the uncommon step of outlining his misgivings to the Commandant of the Marine Corps, where he discussed his doubts about stringing out a division across 120 miles and supplying units during a winter campaign in the mountains. The Marine division and regimental commanders, much to the X Corps commander’s dissatisfaction, deliberately slowed their advance. Between 10 and 26 November, the 7th Marine Regiment averaged 1 mile per day. “While the ROK I Corps and the U.S. 7th Infantry Division advanced toward the northeast border of Korea against scattered and ineffective North Korean opposition, the 1st Marine Division began moving up its assigned axis of advance toward the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir. Its rate of advance was not as rapid as theirs, nor was it to go as far.” General Smith ensured he kept supply dumps and adequate protection along his MSR. Two days after the first Marine units entered Hagaru-ri, General Smith and General Harris (Commander 1st Marine Air Wing) selected a site for an airstrip to bring in supplies and evacuate wounded. The temperature with the wind chill had dropped to -60F. On 17 November, Almond gave his staff guidance modifying the plan to support Eighth Army. He directed the 1st Marine Division to turn west at Hagaru-ri, move to Yudam-ni and from there advance on Kanggye. In addition, Almond wanted the 7th Infantry Division to provide a regimental-sized force “to go north on the east side of the reservoir to Changjin and free the 5th Marine Regiment on that side of the reservoir so that it could join the main force of the 1st Marine Division on the west side of the reservoir at Yudam-ni.” The warning order was issued on 25 November. Smith said, “What I was trying to do all along was stall until we could bring up the 5th Marine regiment and then the 1st Marine Regiment. I was unable to accomplish that until the 26th. By that date I

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was able to put one of Puller’s battalions at Hagaru, another at Koto-ri and a third at Funchilin Pass. They were to guard our main supply route.” On 20 November the 17th RCT of the 7th Infantry Division reached the Yalu, the first U.S. forces to do so. Almond flew up to get his picture taken with the division’s leadership. With UN forces on the Yalu, many thought it was the end of the war. When the X Corps warning order was issued on 25 November, the 1st Marine Division was already in the vicinity of the Chosin Reservoir, but the remainder of the 7th Infantry Division was still involved in the race to the Yalu more than 100 miles away, and one of its regiments, the 32nd, was still landing in the Wonsan area. To coincide with Eighth Army’s attack, which was to begin on 24 November, the X Corps attack had to start on 27 November. On 26 November the 7th Marine Regiment arrived at Yudam-ni. The 5th Marine Regiment on the east side of the Chosin under LtCol Raymond Murray stopped movement and dug in awaiting their relief by the unit of the 7th Infantry Division. “The corps order called for this regiment to be on the east side of the reservoir by noon on November 26th. That was a tall order, easy to issue but almost impossible to execute, given the distant and scattered deployment of the 7th Infantry Division units. The 7th Infantry Division had to use the troops nearest the reservoir. General Barr’s effort to assemble a regimental combat team quickly was entirely ad hoc.” The chosen unit was the 31st RCT commanded by COL Allan MacLean. Short one infantry battalion, he was given the 1st Battalion, 32nd Infantry commanded by LTC Don Faith “because it happened to be closest to the reservoir. Faith’s battalion was the first unit to arrive there.” The rest of the 31st RCT had to travel 140 miles to reach the area.

MacLean first learned of the Chosin mission from MG Barr during a telephone conversation on 24 November. Maclean had been in command of the 31st Regiment only two months, taking command after the previous commander was relieved during the fighting for Seoul. “MacLean was aggressive by nature. His officers and men in the 31st Infantry had discovered in the action near the Fusen Reservoir in October that he liked to be up front when action threatened or was in progress.” Commanding 1-32 Infantry, LTC Don Faith was considered one of the ablest battalion commanders in the 7th Infantry Division. The son of a retired brigadier general, “in World War II Matt Ridgway had handpicked Faith from OCS at Fort Benning to be his aide-de-camp.” He served as Ridgway’s aide for

Map #2 “The Battlefront” from The Last 100 Yards Army University Press pg 127

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three years, advancing to lieutenant colonel. “After several assignments in the Pacific and in the United States at the end of the war, he served on General Barr’s joint military advisory group in China.” He commanded his battalion for more than a year. “On the battlefield, Faith was a clone of Ridgway: intense, fearless, relentlessly aggressive, and unforgiving of error or caution.” While X Corps continued to move to get in position to support the offensive, the Eighth Army offensive began 24 November –MacArthur believed it was the offensive to end the war and have the troops home by Christmas. Although the Joint Chiefs had some apprehension, they approved MacArthur’s offensive because it had a reasonable chance of success. “MacArthur argued that halting would destroy morale, be a defeat for the free world, and bankrupt our leadership and position in Asia. They hesitated and wavered because it meant a fight with MacArthur and charges by him that they denied his victory.” Still wary of the Chinese, Walker was forced to choose between what he considered the irrational orders of his superior and the safety of his men. He changed his mission from all-out offensive to reconnaissance in force. Walker believed no more than two Chinese divisions were in front of him on 24 November. In fact, the Chinese had 180,000 men in Korea at the end of October. General Walker’s order reflected an intention to proceed with a closely coordinated attack in order to have the army under control at all times. He expected opposition but believed he could reach the border. The Chinese Attack The Chinese attacked the Eighth Army at sundown on the 25th, destroying the ROK II Corps and uncovering the center of the Eighth Army. The Chinese then struck the U.S. 2nd Infantry Division, which lost over 4,000 men and most of its artillery. Before the day was over, “MacArthur’s grand offensive was shut down before the Marines attack westward from Yudam-ni had been launched. On November 25th, LTC Don Faith and a small advance party met LtCol Raymond Murray, the 5th Marines Commander, on the road just outside Hagaru-ri. Murray assigned Faith’s battalion an assembly area just south of hill 1221. Faith’s battalion closed into the assembly area by mid-afternoon and set up defensive positions. Faith met with Murray that evening and Murray told Faith his lead battalion had observed no significant enemy activity in the area. The night of 25/26 November passed quietly on the east side of the reservoir. The next morning Faith was joined by BG Henry Hodes, the Assistant Division Commander. Hodes told Faith that COL MacLean was on his way with the rest of the RCT and the situation with the Eighth Army was unclear. Faith stated that he could begin the attack the next day if he could get some Marine tanks. After disapproving the request, Hodes left the position and headed south to the 7ID TAC. During the day, Faith and his officers made a reconnaissance of the Marine positions and received their intelligence. Murray told Faith he would be leaving the next day to join his division on the west side of the reservoir. COL MacLean reached Faith’s assembly area at mid-day. He told Faith that 3-31st Infantry Battalion and the 57th FA Battalion would join them on the 27th. Faith asked MacLean for permission to occupy the Marines’ position once they were vacated. MacLean approved the request. After viewing the forward Marine positions with Faith, he directed that 3-31 and 57 FA take positions south of the Pungnyurigang inlet– about two miles from the Marines’ forward position. When MacLean returned to Faith’s assembly area, he received a report of Chinese soldiers in a village east of the inlet where 3-31 and 57 FA were going to move. MacLean ordered his Intelligence and Reconnaissance (I&R) Platoon to investigate.

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27 November On the morning of the 27th, the last battalion of the 5th Marine Regiment moved out of their forward positions and Faith’s battalion occupied them. Faith and his men expected to be there only one night. 3-31 and 57 FA reached their assigned area near the Pungnyurigang Inlet. By early evening, MacLean’s attached tank company made it to Hudong-ni where the 7ID TAC was located and stopped for maintenance. The company commander went forward to find MacLean but never made contact with him. He did find Faith, who told him the plan was to attack the next morning. Faith advised him “not to try to bring his tanks up during the night but to wait until the next morning.” “Thus on the evening of November 27 elements of the 31st RCT were scattered along the road from Hagaru-ri northward on the east side of the reservoir in seven different locations” covering a distance of 10 miles. COL MacLean was located with the forward command post near Faith’s perimeter. On November 27th, the X Corps attack began on schedule when the Marines began their attack from Yudam-ni on the west side of the reservoir. The Marines were supposed to link up with elements of the Eighth Army at a linkup point 40 miles away. By this time, however, the Eighth Army offensive was stopped and elements were already in retreat. The two Marine Regiments immediately ran into heavy resistance and realized they were battling superior forces. “In sixteen brutal hours of struggle, the Marines suffered heavy casualties and gained merely 1500 yards.” LtCol Murray finally ordered his lead battalion to withdraw. Despite battling all day, the Marines made little progress and went into a defense for the night.

Map #3 “31st RCT Positions” from The Last 100 Yards Army University Press p 129

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“During that day, November 27, the massive CCF troops at the Chosin Reservoir prepared to launch an offensive for that night. Their plan was to hit the widely dispersed X Corps simultaneously, cut them off and destroy them piecemeal. Three CCF divisions would assault the Marines at Yudam–ni” One would attack MacLean’s RCT. During the night of 27 November, the 31st RCT prepared for the next day’s attack. Just before midnight the Chinese initiated attacks in force in an attempt to penetrate the perimeters of 1-32 and 3- 31/57FA. The attacks lasted all night with the Chinese forces finally seizing key high ground in Faith’s perimeter. The Chinese attacks were more successful at the inlet position. They penetrated the defending infantry companies and almost overran the artillery batteries. The 3-31 INF Bn CP was overrun. The surviving units were disorganized and fell back to the remaining artillery position. Once the Chinese pulled back at daylight, the remaining men in the units returned to their positions. The 31st Medical Company, which tried to move up to the inlet perimeter during the night, was destroyed. “West of the Chosin Reservoir at Yudam-ni, the CCF divisions hit the Marines frontally. They overran outposts and swarmed into the Marine positions, causing chaos. Quickly recovering from the shock, the Marines...” fought all night and reestablished their perimeter. The CCF cut the road between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri. 28 November At daybreak on the 28th, the Chinese fell back after failing to achieve their objectives. On the east side of Chosin, at both the forward position and the inlet perimeter, they withdrew at daylight and occupied the high ground surrounding both perimeters, keeping U.S. forces under observation and sniper fire. They also put roadblocks behind the perimeters to cut off retreat. In addition, Chinese forces controlled the MSR below Hagaru-ri cutting the road to Koto-ri. During the day MacLean’s tank company attacked toward Hill 1221 and was repulsed with the loss of four tanks. BG Hodes realized the Chinese were there in strength and following the attack, he left in a tank for Hagaru-ri to attempt to get help in attacking Hill 1221. Upon arrival, he met with MajGen Smith who had just arrived at Hagaru-ri. Smith informed Hodes that the situation at Hagaru-ri was critical and nothing could be spared to help the 31st RCT. Faith tried to regain the key high ground all day but could not. Throughout the day the forces at both the inlet perimeter and the forward position observed Chinese forces moving south. Despite the attack, MacLean was optimistic. He believed when his third Infantry battalion and the tank company arrived he could regain

Map #4 “Battle of the Changjin Reservoir from The Last 100 Yards Army University Press p 131

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control and continue the attack. Neither Faith nor MacLean had any communications with the rest of the RCT, including the battalions at the inlet perimeter. Once the Marine’s attack was stopped on 28 November, LtCol Raymond Murray and Col Homer Litzenberg met and made several decisions. “The first thing the two officers determined was that the 5th Marine (Regiment) would not resume their westward march. Then they went to work with the combined staffs, consolidating and reorganizing. Basically what they were doing was figuring out how to strengthen the perimeter by reducing it.” On the afternoon of the 28th, the 1st Marine Division started to grasp the gravity of the situation. The “Chinese had broken the division into 3 groups isolating them from one another. The first group at Yudam-ni, the second at Hagaru, the third at Koto-ri and they had blocked the road connecting them.” During the day, determined to get his attack moving, Almond visited the Marines at Hagaru-ri and the 31st RCT forward position. After reading the reports, Almond was convinced it was a loss of nerve by the Marines and soldiers. He believed they exaggerated the numbers of Chinese troops. “If so many Chinese had suddenly sprung up, why hadn’t air reconnaissance spotted them?” Murray and Litzenberg had already recommended to Smith that the offensive be cancelled and the Marines go on the defensive. Smith concurred. When Almond arrived at Hagaru-ri, to his “dismay, General O.P. Smith strongly recommended that the drive to the Yalu be cancelled.” Smith recommended going on the defensive. “Almond was irked by such conservatism. It was the same old story—the Marines were dragging their feet, as they had done on their drive to Seoul.” Almond reluctantly let Smith have his way. Almond next flew to the 31st RCT forward position, where he conferred with MacLean and Faith. “Faith explained that he’d lost high ground in the perimeter to the Chinese.” Almond was unimpressed and explained that the Chinese that had attacked them were “nothing more than the remnants of Chinese divisions fleeing north.” He felt the two officers were as shaky as Smith and his Marines. Almond told the two officers, “We’re still attacking and we are going all the way to the Yalu. Don’t let a bunch of Chinese laundrymen stop you.” He also told them they should retake the lost high ground and prepare to attack north once MacLean’s third battalion arrived. MacLean raised no objection. When Almond arrived back at his headquarters he received word that another 7th Infantry Division unit had reached the Yalu. He also learned that Walker’s Eighth Army was retreating. “Like others at X Corps, Almond figured this was one more instance of Walker’s loss of nerve.” Almond was still convinced the Chinese assaults were not serious. “MacArthur did not share Almond’s disregard concerning the Chinese attacks.” He cabled the Pentagon and told them, “We face an entirely new war. This command has done everything possible within its capabilities but is now faced with conditions beyond its control and strength.” MacArthur estimated the number of Chinese troops at 200,000. Back in Washington, the President convened a hasty meeting of the National Security Council. “No decisions were made, but all agreed that war with the Soviets must be avoided.” They also concluded that they could not defeat the Chinese in Korea and after the disastrous November elections, there was no doubt America was divided and the country wanted the war to end. MacArthur met with Walker and Almond in Japan on the evening of the 28th. He authorized Walker to fall back as far as necessary to establish a defensive line. Almond told MacArthur he believed he could continue the attack to the Yalu. MacArthur disagreed and told him to move his corps all the way back to the coast.

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“The situation of X Corps was just as perilous (as the situation in Eighth Army) because it was widely strung out through difficult terrain in a series of separated columns, and subject to piecemeal isolation and destruction. The Chinese offensive against the corps sector, however, was more localized (being directed at the central area) and the full extent of the enemy involvement was not as readily apparent to Almond. Lack of communications prevented a full appreciation of the destruction being wrought against MacLean’s regiment, and the level of combat along the Marine front was only entering its second night and still developing.” Almond thought he could help the Eight Army by continuing the attack and cutting the enemy’s rear line of communication. 29 November During the night of November 28th and the early morning of the 29th, Chinese forces once again attacked 1-32’s forward position. During the night MacLean and Faith decided to withdraw back to the inlet perimeter. They had no communications with 7th Infantry Division Headquarters and made the decision on their own. During the fighting, 1st Platoon, A Company was cut off by Chinese forces. A Company unsuccessfully counterattacked twice to reach them. As the withdrawal time approached, the battalion XO and the A Company Commander decided protection of the rear guard was more important and that they would leave the platoon behind, which they did. During the withdrawal, Chinese forces did not pressure the battalion. Faith’s battalion reached the inlet perimeter where they witnessed a scene described as total devastation. The 31st RCT at the inlet perimeter received intense enemy attacks from the east and west during the night. The perimeter held but by all accounts it was shaky. The antiaircraft guns attached to the FA battalion played the dominant role in defense and saved the perimeter until 1-32’s arrival. As 1-32 approached the inlet perimeter, COL MacLean mistakenly moved toward Chinese forces, thinking they were his missing third battalion. He was wounded, captured and disappeared. Faith entered the perimeter and met with the commanders of the 3-31 Infantry Battalion and the 57FA Battalion, both severely wounded. Faith assumed command of all troops and worked out a plan to reorganize and defend the inlet perimeter. During the day, Faith unsuccessfully tried to seize some high ground to improve the defensibility of his perimeter. “In the end he had to settle for a very restrictive unsatisfactory perimeter, all of it dominated by high ground.” During the day, they received an air drop of supplies but not the right type or amount. The task force had no communications with the rear CP or the tank company. For the second day in a row, the tank company tried to reach the inlet perimeter but was stopped by strong Chinese defenses at Hill 1221. Faith was unaware of this action but it lead to aircraft reports of a relief force. “Logic and prudence dictated a withdrawal of the consolidated force to Hudong or Hagaru-ri. Yet Faith could not order a withdrawal without orders from higher authority. An unauthorized withdrawal might be seen as a cowardly act” On the west side of Chosin, the 5th and 7th Marine Regiments “were still tied down near Yudam-ni in desperate need of supplies and reinforcements.” They incurred heavy casualties during the CCF’s nighttime attacks but held the perimeter. In addition, during the previous evening, Chinese troops had attacked the perimeter at Hagaru-ri which was defended by one Marine infantry battalion. MajGen Smith, still at Hagaru-ri, was concerned that the MSR south of his position was cut by Chinese forces and the ability of the Hagaru-ri perimeter to hold against Chinese attacks. He directed a task force to fight north from Koto-ri to Hagaru-ri “thus opening the supply route to his two beleaguered regiments and reinforcing the garrison at Hagaru-ri.” Smith ordered Col Chesty Puller, 1st Marine Regiment commander, at Koto-ri to send all possible reinforcements to Hagaru-ri– even though he was hard pressed to provide a single man.

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“In Washington, the Joint Chiefs of Staff were holding a morning meeting. Admiral Forrest Sherman was so concerned about his Marines at Chosin that he insisted MacArthur be ordered to withdraw X Corps to a consolidated defense line across the narrow waist of Korea; but Collins and Bradley were still reluctant to give MacArthur tactical orders.” 30 November During the night of 29/30 November there were a few enemy attacks against the inlet perimeter but nothing serious and the perimeter remained intact. During the day, the 31st RCT, now called Task Force (TF) Faith, received airdrops of supplies but were still short of ammunition. Unbeknownst to the TF, they were attached to the 1st Marine Division. Faith still believed a relief force was coming from Hagaru-ri. The TF continued to use CAS against the Chinese forces surrounding the perimeter. For many of the soldiers and leaders, this was their third day of being awake and in combat. MG Barr borrowed MajGen Smith’s helicopter, flew into the perimeter, and spoke with Faith. Faith provided an update about MacLean and the number of wounded. The TF still had no communications with anyone outside their perimeter. Although many of the details of the Barr-Faith meeting have not survived, one can surmise that Barr told Faith his TF was now under the command of the Marines and that there weren’t enough forces at Hagaru-ri to help Faith. “Under ordinary circumstances, (withdrawal) would have been no great challenge for TF Faith. Faith had withdrawn four miles to the (inlet perimeter) without great difficulty. The 31st CP at Hudong and (MacLean’s tank company) were merely four more miles to the south. But the problem was the wounded. By then Faith was burdened with about 500 of them. He would have to take them out in the trucks. This would make the withdrawal very dangerous.” When Barr returned from visiting TF Faith, he told Smith that Faith’s biggest problem was the wounded –the TF currently had 500 casualties who needed evacuation. At midafternoon, Almond met with the two division commanders at Hagaru-ri. He was a very different man. Obviously shaken by the situation at the Chosin and the number of Chinese troops south of Hagaru-ri, Almond stated the “very survival of the corps was at stake.” Almond told them the corps would withdraw from the Chosin area. He issued plans to consolidate X Corps at Hagaru-ri and then move back to the coast. Almond ordered Smith and Barr to develop a plan for the extraction of TF Faith and for the Marines to send an RCT to the east side of the Chosin to assist in the withdrawal.

After Almond departed, Smith, Barr and Hodes determined that, contrary to the Corps Commander’s instructions, TF Faith would have to fight their way back to Hagaru-ri on their own. The commanders needed to consolidate their units instead of further isolating them. In addition, although speed was essential, they did not want to make any rash decisions that would jeopardize their already hard-pressed forces. Having the Marines move rapidly from Yudam-ni to Hagaru-ri in order to attack toward the inlet perimeter under intense Chinese pressure the entire time would risk the Marine regiments and possibly result in their isolation and destruction. Furthermore, the garrison at Hagaru-ri was short of troops and every man was needed for its defense. If Hagaru-ri fell, the forces on both sides of the Chosin would be trapped. Smith allocated TF Faith priority on air support. Smith also said that if the Marine regiments made it back to Hagaru-ri, and TF Faith was still isolated, he would send one of the regiments to extricate them. To avoid any semblance of a conflict in command, MG Barr brought Hodes back to 7ID HQ. Smith issued orders to the 5th and 7th Marine Regiments to prepare to disengage and withdraw to Hagaru-ri on December 1. In addition, in one of the most controversial decisions of the battle, the 31st RCT’s tank company was ordered to withdraw to Hagaru-ri. Who gave the order has never been established but one

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of the general officers had to approve the decision. Still out of communications, TF Faith was not informed of the decision. November 30 was another bad day for the Eighth Army as the withdrawing units had to run a gauntlet of Chinese fire from the heights which dominated the roads. In Washington there was active discussion about the use of atomic weapons on the Korean battlefield. The discussion caused an uproar among other members of the UN fighting in Korea. 1 December The Chinese attacks on the TF Faith perimeter during the night of 30 November and early morning of 1 December were more intense than any of the night time attacks the units had previously encountered. There was serious doubt whether the perimeter could be held. The Chinese finally penetrated the perimeter and seized high ground in the north east corner. Repeated counterattacks during the night to regain the high ground failed. Caring for the wounded was becoming increasingly difficult. The soldiers and leaders were exhausted; they had been under attack for 80 hours in sub-zero weather with little sleep. With little resupply, the dead were used as a source of clothing, weapons, and ammunition. There was very little artillery, mortar, and anti-aircraft ammunition. Each day they had been at the Chosin the weather had gotten worse, which meant less air support. A pilot told the TF that there would be good weather about noon. The pilot also confirmed that there was no relief force currently on the road. Faith’s XO and S3 recommend to him that they attempt a breakout. Faith issued the order at 1000 on 1 December, emphasizing they should expect no help except CAS in their breakout attempt. “In retrospect some would question why Faith chose that difficult land route rather than go out onto the frozen reservoir to...Hagaru-ri. The answer was that he and his staff did not believe the ice was thick enough to support the weight of the trucks in which the wounded were to be transported. The ice provides no natural cover. If it gave way—or if the CCF broke it up—the task force could be trapped in the open.” As the TF began to move the Chinese put intense pressure on the perimeter. While the column moved down the road, they ran a gauntlet of heavy fire. The lead company outpaced the slow-moving, overloaded trucks carrying the wounded. The wounded were continuously hit by enemy small arms fire. The movement quickly became a series of problem-solving events as the column encountered destroyed bridges and roadblocks. During the evening of 30 November /1 December, the CCF attacked Hagaru-ri. Without the addition of MacLean’s tank company, it was doubtful the perimeter would have held. The Marine attack to Hagaru-ri was slow and deliberate. Murray and Litzenberg used their battalions to defend against Chinese attacks on all sides of the column. The Regimental commanders kept forcing the leading battalion to move faster against the resistance. Aftermath: It took the lead Marine units 69 hours to cover the 14 miles to Hagaru-ri from Yudam-ni. They arrived on 4 December with 1,500 casualties. The Marines began their attack to the coast for evacuation on 6 December. TF Faith was completely destroyed on 1 December around Hill 1221, near the location occupied just a day earlier by MacLean’s tank company. Members of the TF that abandoned the convoy and crossed the frozen reservoir on foot made it to Hagaru-ri. LTC Don Faith was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously. Walker initially consolidated at Pyongyang and then gave orders to withdraw to the Imjin River. The Chinese occupied the city on 6 December. President Truman cabled MacArthur that the

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primary concern was preservation of his force rather than territory. While coordinating the defense behind the Imjin River, LTG Walton Walker was killed in a jeep accident. MacArthur immediately called Lawton Collins. They both agreed that Walker’s successor should be LTG Matt Ridgway.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

L432: Decision Making

L432: Reading B What Were You Thinking?

Authors: Dr. Ted Thomas and Mr. Robert Rielly

In general, we expect people to think and act rationally. Market theories, negotiations, and other human endeavors are based on people reacting and thinking in sane, rational ways. It is based on an assumption that we are logical and can make good decisions. But are people really that rational? Dan Ariely, a noted scholar, wrote a book on how we are all “Predictably Irrational.” Numerous authors have pointed out how psychological traps, cognitive biases, and worldviews cloud our thinking and lead us to irrational choices. Decision making is the realm of the leader. Leaders make decisions and our assumption is they are making good, rational decisions. However, in our rush to make a decision we forget that psychological traps and biases affect them just as they do the rest of us. This article will use the Bay of Pigs invasion as a case study to examine how these human characteristics often cause us to act in counterproductive ways and what a leader can do to offset them.

Bay of Pigs Invasion The 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion provides a rich example of poor thinking and decision-making. In 1959 Fidel Castro completed his overthrow of the corrupt Batista government in Cuba. In the spring of 1960 Castro formally aligned himself with the Soviet Union, establishing a communist regime. Many of those in Batista’s regime and those who did not want to live in a communist country left Cuba for the United States. In the era of the Cold War, the U.S. did not relish the idea of having a communist country 90 miles off its coast, much less a nation closely allied with the Soviet Union.

The U.S. began making plans to overthrow Castro during President Eisenhower’s presidency in 1960. President Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, five star general, and hero of WWII, directed the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) to start looking at planning covert operations to bring down Castro. Kennedy did not know the planning was going on before the election and even heavily criticized the Eisenhower administration for their passivity. Two days after newly elected President John F. Kennedy was sworn in as president, Richard Bissel, a CIA planner and chief architect of the plan to invade Cuba, briefed him. Kennedy described Bissel “as the only CIA man he knew well enough to trust.” Possessing a certain amount of hubris after winning the election, the Kennedy administration proceeded with the strategy. The plan envisioned recruiting and training approximately 1400 Cuban exiles to do a beach landing in Cuba to overthrow Castro’s regime. Should the invasion fail, the exiles were supposed to escape into the Escambray Mountains and link up with guerillas in the mountains, continuing an insurgency against the communist government.

Since it was supposed to be a secret operation, not many people were briefed, to include the joint chiefs of staff (JCS) who were marginally read in on the plan. When asked their opinion, the chiefs said it had a “fair chance” of success, which President Kennedy interpreted as a “good chance.” In the post mortem following the failed invasion, the JCS were asked what they meant and said they thought it had a

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three times higher probability of failure than success. That is not the way President Kennedy interpreted “fair chance.”

As a result of the Bay of Pigs invasion the Kennedy administration was diplomatically embarrassed, the CIA was discredited, and several of its leaders were fired. It also provided a major victory for the Cuban revolution, Fidel Castro in particular. Castro was forced deeper into the Soviet Bloc for support and survival. This incident set the stage for the showdown between the United States and the Soviet Union in the Cuban Missile Crisis, bringing the world to the edge of nuclear war.

The question is how could so many smart people make so many irrational decisions? Kennedy’s cabinet was stacked with intellectuals and experts who had years of government and corporate experience or who were Harvard professors and subject matter experts. Irving Janis’s book attributes much of the failure of the operation to groupthink. He defines groupthink as “a mode of thinking that people engage in when they are deeply involved in a cohesive in-group, when the members’ strivings for unanimity override their motivation to realistically appraise alternative courses of action.” Groupthink was certainly a major factor in the poor decision making and lack of critical thinking evidenced at the Bay of Pigs fiasco. However, there are other threats just as insidious to rational decision making that are evident in this case.

Cognitive Biases Cognitive biases or hidden traps in thinking often lead to poor decisions. “People sometimes confuse cognitive biases with logical fallacies, but the two are not the same. A logical fallacy stems from an error in a logical argument, while a cognitive bias is rooted in thought processing errors often arising from problems with memory, attention, attribution, and other mental mistakes.” Logical fallacies come from poor thinking, while cognitive biases are a part of being human. The problem with these biases is they become part of how we think and are therefore invisible to us, causing us to not see them even as we fall into them. Research has uncovered many cognitive biases. This article will focus on six of the more common traps: confirming evidence, sunk cost, framing, status quo, anchoring, and overconfidence.

The confirming evidence trap leads us to seek out information that confirms our existing point of view and avoids or discounts information that contradicts our point of view. President Kennedy wanted plausible deniability of U.S. involvement. Yet Pierre Salinger, the president’s press secretary, referred to the plan as “the least covert military operation in history.” Even the president read in the newspapers about secret training camps in Guatemala and efforts to recruit Cubans in Miami to fight in the exile forces. Despite the abundance of leaks, the administration didn’t see the information as a problem. Instead, they decided to ignore this evidence and focus on plausible deniability of U.S. participation due to the lack of direct involvement. Somehow, they thought that no “direct involvement” of U.S. forces would be enough to convince the world that the U.S. was not involved.

The sunk cost trap is how we make current decisions based on past decisions, regardless of whether or not the past decision has any bearing on the current issue. To change our current decision might make us look like we made a bad prior decision, and we are often unwilling to admit we made a mistake. President Kennedy and his advisors made a decision two days into the presidency to back the invasion of Cuba based on a persuasive briefing by a trusted expert, Richard Bissell. As evidence started to mount on the inadvisability of the decision, the administration did not want to look like they had made a mistake in their earlier decision. Bissell, who had put so much emotional energy into planning the invasion, was not

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able to “see clearly or to judge soundly.” So much effort and planning were already sunk into the invasion that it moved inexorably forward.

How a problem is framed influences how we approach the problem. People tend to accept the way the problem is given to them without looking at it from a different perspective or point of view. For instance, people tend to be risk-averse when decisions are framed in terms of gains and losses, wanting to avoid losses over possible gains. The CIA framed the Bay of Pigs invasion in terms of the danger of having a Soviet satellite 90 miles off the coast of Florida. With Soviet influence virtually on our borders, the gain was in terms of the safety and security of the U.S., as well as the possibility that other Latin American countries would not follow suit in becoming communist. This strongly influenced how the administration saw the problem. Had the decision been framed by the consequences of failure and loss, the result would have been different. The U.S. lost credibility and the trust of nations throughout the world, and lost security on its borders by forcing of a closer alliance between Cuba and the Soviet Union.

The status quo trap is based on the fact that people are averse to change and would prefer the current situation over something new or different. When Kennedy became president, the planning for the invasion was already well under way. Rather than change the plan, Kennedy elected to stick with it and maintain the status quo.

The anchoring trap is reflected by the fact that we give inordinate credence to the first information we receive and then compare any new information to the original thought, idea, or data. Thus, the first information we receive “anchors” our thoughts. The first briefing by Bissell anchored the administration to the idea of an invasion. Bissell himself altered the plan from a small-scale covert operation to an invasion in November of 1960. The president was only briefed on the invasion plan two months later, in January of 1961. The president and his advisors never seriously considered other options such as using diplomatic and economic leverage, a small scale infiltration of exiles, or even major military intervention with U.S. forces, because they were anchored to the exile brigade beach assault and invasion option.

The overconfidence trap states we are too self-assured about our abilities in making decisions and forecasting future consequences, which causes us to take greater risks. Experts are especially vulnerable to this trap because they are more convinced they are right due to their expertise and partially to maintain the appearance of being an expert. If they don’t know the answer, then they are obviously not much of an expert. After the election in 1960, there was a sense of euphoria that nothing could stop the new administration in solving the nation’s problems and challenges. Kennedy and his advisors were overly optimistic, giving them a low sense of vulnerability about their cause and ability to win. They viewed the Bay of Pigs plan through the lens of democracy is good and communism is bad and whatever we do will be vindicated by the non-communist nations of the world.

Many of these traps are linked and feed off each other. Overconfidence often starts with anchoring. Confirming evidence is often done after a prior decision is made, and we look for evidence to confirm the sunk cost or the status quo. The status quo is often due to the sunk cost. Our framing of a problem may start with the anchoring of a suggestion or fact that may or may not be relevant. These six cognitive biases are only a few of the biases, but some of the more prevalent. The real importance of understanding these thinking traps and biases is knowing how to deal with them.

Cognitive biases can be particularly common in the military, especially with planning and execution. Both commanders and their staffs can be vulnerable to the anchoring trap with the first piece of information they receive. They can view all subsequent pieces of information through this lens. In

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addition, when the commander makes the decision and the staff begins preparing for execution, we see confirmation bias when people tend to ignore any information or intelligence that contradicts the approved plan. Commanders and their staffs can fall victim to the sunk cost trap when they refuse to reframe a problem or adjust a course of action or decision because of the time, effort, and resources already invested. Finally, most leaders are not enthusiastic about change, but change can be necessary. Commanders and their staffs fall victim to the status quo trap when they choose to keep doing the same thing despite evidence to the contrary. We often tend to do more of the same and reinforce failure, hoping for a change in the outcome.

Ways to Address our Biases There are many different ways to address faulty thinking and cognitive traps. Just knowing that these traps exist, and that we are all subject to them, is the first step in overcoming them. Leaders have to overcome these traps on two levels-first individually as a leader, and secondly as part of a collaborative group. At the individual level a person not only needs to recognize that traps exist, but they also need to be proactive in what they can do about it.

Leaders have a responsibility to examine their thinking and avoid cognitive biases to the best of their ability. To avoid the anchoring trap, good leaders purposely seek out those with different opinions. Leaders should avoid speaking too early and giving their opinion, otherwise they may anchor those they supervise to their own preconceptions. Leaders should also think about the situation on their own before consulting others’ opinions to avoid becoming anchored themselves.

Leaders should examine how emotionally attached they are to the situation and realize how that will taint their decision-making. They find people who are uninvolved in the current or past decisions and who do not have the knowledge of sunk costs. They build a climate where people embrace experimenting and failure, where it is accepted to own their mistakes and fail forward.

They try to look at the problem through a different lens or point of view and try to reframe the question or problem using different perspectives and pose problems neutrally, not favoring either gains or losses. They examine what their current procedures are to determine if those procedures and processes are getting the organization to their vision.

For the status quo trap, leaders need to identify other options and compare them to the status quo to determine if the status quo is the best option to reach the objective. They should also examine if the status quo would still be an option if it was not already in place.

The principle ways to combat the confirming evidence trap are to examine all information equally with the same criteria and use red team techniques (explained below) or designate a trusted person to play devil’s advocate. Finally, leaders should avoid asking leading questions to get the answers they are looking for and instead ask open-ended questions to explore the situation and encourage debate.

Finally, leaders should conduct pre-mortems and post-mortems as a way to counter overconfidence. A pre-mortem looks at how the project, plan, or organization could fail in the future, while a post-mortem takes a view from the future looking into the past to determine why it did fail. The decision maker should challenge their own judgment, especially when forecasting results of actions. In addition, the decision maker can provide data to support their predictions. Leaders drive the process to help their organization overcome biases and that process starts with themselves.

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Protecting against traps is not just an individual responsibility, but also a group responsibility. Combatting traps in a collaborative group begins with climate. When leaders set the proper climate in terms of policies, procedures, and systems to protect against biases, they will make better collaborative decisions. A few techniques and methods for leaders to improve decision making in a collaborative group are red teaming, diversity, questioning, and establishing a safe to fail climate.

Red teaming involves establishing a team to look at the issue from the adversary’s or opponent’s view point. It is more than just playing devil’s advocate. It seeks to get in the mind of the adversary and think the way they do. Red teams challenge assumptions, look at “what-if” scenarios, and provide possible answers to how the opponent would act and react to different decisions and scenarios. A few of its goals are to break through cognitive biases, improve decision-making, and avoid surprises. Red teaming avoids groupthink by taking people out of the group to look at the problem. It also addresses each of the other six cognitive traps. The red team challenges the evidence and looks at disconfirming information. They are not worried about sunk cost or the status quo. They look at the problem from different points of view and avoid the framing and anchoring traps. They are trying to find ways for the plan or decision to fail and avoid the overconfidence trap.

Diversity ensures there are differing opinions in a group, including minority views, dissenting opinions, and disinterested parties who have not made a judgment on the problem. Diversity can be accomplished through different nationalities, religions, cultures, races, gender, ethnicity, language, age, social status, experiences, and political affiliation, to name a few. A diverse set of viewpoints increases creativity and innovation and helps overcome groupthink, anchoring, sunk cost, and status quo traps.

Establishing a climate where questions are encouraged and valued helps people challenge assumptions, predispositions, and paradigms that lead to cognitive biases. Questioning helps organizations survive and thrive in volatile and quickly changing environments. Questioning requires humility and a desire to learn, which comes from genuinely listening. Understanding the foundations of critical thinking are a great place to start in developing a keener ability to ask the right questions and overcome biases. Questioning facts, assumptions, points of view, paradigms and mental models, purpose, and problems are key lines of thinking to exposing all of the cognitive biases addressed here.

Leaders who create a climate where it’s safe to fail have an organization in which people are willing to expose their thinking and reasoning to the group. It means leaders are eager for feedback to improve their thinking and processes, especially when things go wrong. In order to achieve a safe to fail environment, we need a climate where it’s safe to think and safe to challenge. A safe to think climate is one in which people have time to read and think, to be curious and gain new information. A safe to challenge climate is one in which people are able to challenge the organization’s idea of who it is and what it does, to question its mental models without fear or threat of reprisal. Safe to fail is about allowing and taking risks to stay relevant and to avoid the cognitive traps of anchoring, status quo, sunk cost, and framing.

Conclusion The next major emergency that President Kennedy faced was the Cuban Missile Crisis. He learned from his previous fiasco. His embarrassment and failure in the Bay of Pigs certainly prevented him from becoming overconfident in dealing with Soviet nuclear weapons in Cuba. The administration continuously examined what could go wrong and projected what would be the cascading effects from possible decisions they could make. President Kennedy widened his circle of trusted advisors, including

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people from outside his party and with divergent views, to help in framing the problem and finding an answer. He created a special group to come up with solutions and look at different alternatives, which helped to prevent anchoring. Nuclear weapons in Cuba was a totally new problem to this administration, but rules of engagement and contingency plans were already written and could have boxed him into a decision resulting in world war three. He did not let the sunk cost of those plans and the status quo they represented constrain his thinking and decision making. He learned to not blindly trust the experts, since the experts are often narrow in their viewpoints. He also used different experts to counter each other’s opinions and avoid the danger of confirming evidence. In effect, he learned to counteract his cognitive biases and avoid groupthink to solve a very complicated problem and avoid thermonuclear war.

Our decisions may not have as catastrophic consequences thermonuclear war, but poor decision making due to faulty logic and cognitive biases can certainly lead to the demise of companies, programs, or people’s careers. Our assumptions are heavily influenced by cognitive biases. Understanding our human tendencies to fall into these traps is needed to have the self-awareness to avoid them. Knowing how to overcome these thinking traps and biases is an invaluable tool for leaders to have and use.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

L432: Decision Making

L432: Reading C ADP 6-0 Chapter 2: Excerpt

Author: US Army

DECISION MAKING

The commander must permit freedom of action to his subordinates insofar that this does not endanger the whole scheme. He must not surrender to them those decisions for which he alone is responsible.

German Field Service Regulation, Truppen Fuhrung (1935)

2.10 Decision making involves applying both the art and science of war. Many aspects of military operations—movement rates, fuels consumption, weapons effects—can be reduced to numbers, calculations, and tables. They belong to the science of war and are important to understanding what is possible with the resources available. Other aspects—the impact of leadership, complexity of operations, and uncertainty about the enemy—belong to the art of war. Successful commanders focus the most attention on those aspects belonging to the art of war.

2.11 For Army forces, decision making focuses on selecting a course of action that is most favorable to accomplishing the mission. Decision making can be deliberate, using the military decision-making process and a full staff, or decision making can be done very quickly by the commander alone. A commander’s decisions ultimately guide the actions of the force.

2.12 Decision making requires knowing if, when, and what to decide as well as understanding the consequences of that decision. Critical to decision making is the ability to make decisions without perfect information, knowing when enough information allows acceptable decisions, and the willingness to act on imperfect information. Striking the balance between acting now with imperfect information and acting later with better information is essential to the art of command. Understanding 2.13 Success in operations demands timely and effective decisions based on applying judgment to available information and knowledge. As such, commanders and staffs seek to build and maintain situational understanding throughout an operation. Situational understanding is the product of applying analysis and judgment to relevant information to determine the relationships among the operational and mission variables. Situational understanding allows commanders to make effective decisions and regulate the actions of their force with plans appropriate for the situation. It enables commanders and staffs to assess operations accurately. Commanders and staffs continually strive to maintain their situational understanding and work through periods of reduced understanding as a situation evolves. Effective commanders accept that uncertainty can never be eliminated, and they train their staffs and subordinates to function in uncertain environments. 2.14 Knowledge management and information management assist commanders with progressively adding meaning at each level of processing and analyzing to help build and maintain their situational understanding. Knowledge management and information management are interrelated activities that

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support commanders' decision making. There are four levels of meaning. From the lowest level to the highest level, they include data, information, knowledge, and understanding. At the lowest level, processing transforms data into information. Analysis then refines information into knowledge. Commanders and staffs then apply judgment to transform knowledge into understanding. Commanders and staffs continue a progressive development of learning, as organizations and individuals assign meaning and value at each level. (See figure 2-1.)

Figure 2-1. Achieving understanding

2.15 In the context of decision making, data consists of unprocessed observations detected by a collector of any kind (human, mechanical, or electronic). In typical organizations, data often flows to command posts from subordinate units. Subordinate units push data to inform higher headquarters of events that facilitate situational understanding. Data can be quantified, stored, and organized in files and databases; however, data only becomes useful when processed into information.

2.16 In the context of decision making, information is data that has been organized and processed in order to provide context for further analysis. The amount of information that is available makes managing information and using it to make effective decisions critical to success during operations. Commanders and staffs apply experience and judgment to information to gain shared understanding of events and conditions in which they make decisions during operations. Effective command and control requires further developing information into knowledge so commanders can achieve understanding

2.17 In the context of decision making, knowledge is information that has been analyzed and evaluated for operational implications. It is also comprehension gained through study, experience, practice, and human interaction that provides the basis for expertise and skilled judgment. Staffs work to improve and share tacit and explicit knowledge. 2.18 Tacit knowledge resides in an individual's mind. It is the purview of individuals, not technology. All individuals have a unique, personal store of knowledge gained from experience, training, and other people. This knowledge includes an appreciation for nuances, subtleties, and work-arounds. Intuition, mental agility, effective responses to crises, and the ability to adapt are forms of tacit knowledge. Leaders use tacit knowledge, their own and that of their subordinates, to solve complex problems and make decisions. 2.18 Explicit knowledge consists of information that can be organized, applied, and transferred using digital (such as computer files) or non-digital (such as paper) means. Explicit knowledge lends itself to rules, limits, and precise meanings. Examples of explicit knowledge include doctrinal publications, orders, and databases. Explicit knowledge is primarily used to support situational awareness and shared understanding as it applies to decision making. 2.20 In the context of decision making, understanding is knowledge that has been synthesized and had judgment applied to comprehend the situation's inner relationships, enable decision making, and drive action. Understanding is judgment applied to knowledge in the context of a particular situation. Understanding is knowing enough about the situation to change it by applying action. Judgment is based on experience, expertise, and intuition. Ideally, true understanding should be the basis for decisions. However, uncertainty and time preclude achieving perfect understanding before deciding and acting. (See chapter 3 for more information on knowledge management and information management.)

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

L432: Decision Making

L432: Optional Reading A Biography of General Douglas MacArthur

Author: West Point Military Academy

MacArthur, Douglas (1880-1964) Supreme commander of United Nations (UN) forces during the Korean War. Douglas MacArthur, son of Civil War hero and career army officer General Arthur MacArthur, was born on 26 January 1880 at Fort Dodge, Arkansas. He spent much of his youth on frontier army posts, where he gained a lifelong love of the military. He attended the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, graduating at the head of his class in 1903. During World War I, MacArthur served in France, where he earned numerous combat decorations and ended the war as a brigadier general commanding an infantry division. In 1930 MacArthur became army chief of staff. The outbreak of World War II found him in the Philippines where, in I941, President Franklin Roosevelt appointed him U.S. Far East commander. The news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor stunned MacArthur and sent his command into a stupor. Nine hours after hearing of the sneak attack, his own air force was destroyed on the ground by a Japanese air raid. The Japanese then invaded Luzon, the key island in the Philippine archipelago. MacArthur scrapped the original defense plan, which called for a staged withdrawal to the Bataan peninsula, and spread his command and supply depots over Luzon in order to defend all possible landing sites. This proved a disastrous mistake, as his troops were forced to retreat to Bataan without the large stockpile of supplies originally positioned there. American and Filipino soldiers made a brave but futile stand at Bataan and were eventually overwhelmed by the Japanese. By then MacArthur was in Australia, where Roosevelt had ordered him to take charge of Allied forces in the southwest Pacific. Upon his arrival in Australia, MacArthur electrified the Allied world, then reeling from defeat on all fronts, with his promise to the Filipinos: ''The President ordered me to break through enemy lines ... I came through and I shall return." During 1943- 1944 MacArthur launched a series of coordinated land, sea, and air "triphibious" turning movements against Japanese bases in New Guinea. This brilliant campaign, in which his troops suffered very minor casualties in comparison with the bloodletting then going on in the Central Pacific and Europe, brought MacArthur within striking distance of the Philippines. However, President Roosevelt and the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) were not convinced of the need to liberate the Philippines. Some believed that a landing on Formosa would be more profitable as a base for further operations against Japan. But MacArthur convinced Roosevelt that this amounted to an abandonment of the Filipinos and would break America's (actually MacArthur's) solemn vow to return. Roosevelt gave in and MacArthur's forces then landed in and liberated the Philippines. MacArthur presided over the formal Japanese surrender in Tokyo Bay on 2 September 1945. After the war MacArthur became supreme commander of Allied Powers in Japan. He advocated numerous democratic reforms in the defeated nation and, more than any other individual, created the post- war Japanese state. When MacArthur took command in Tokyo, he also gained responsibility for the

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U.S. occupation of South Korea (Korea having been a colony of Japan). Preoccupied with the multitude of problems in post- war Japan, he sent Lieutenant General John Hodge and his XXIV Corps to occupy Korea south of the 38th parallel in accordance with agreements reached with the Russians, who occupied Korea north of the parallel. This decision was made largely because Hodge and his corps were readily available on nearby Okinawa. Unfortunately Hodge, a solid commander in battle, lacked diplomatic skills and had little under- standing of Korea or its people. South Korea was plagued with internal turmoil throughout the U.S. occupation, but MacArthur was too busy with Japanese affairs to pay much attention to it, despite repeated pleas from Hodge. MacArthur's sole trip to Korea during the occupa-tion was on I5 August 1948 to witness the inauguration of the Republic of Korea's (ROK's) first president, Syngman Rhee. After the ceremony, MacArthur assured an anxious Rhee that, in the case of Communist aggression, he would defend Korea "as I would California." This pledge conflicted with later statements made by Truman administration officials in Washington, echoed by MacArthur himself, which excluded Korea from the U.S. defensive perimeter. These public declarations may have given Communist leaders in P' Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow the impression that the United States lacked interest in Korea and would not intervene there in the event of a North Korean invasion of South Korea. In 1948 U.S. occupation troops in South Korea, along with Russian soldiers in the north, withdrew from the peninsula in accordance with a United Nations agreement. The Soviets supplied their North Korean allies with an abundance of tanks, heavy artillery, and military aircraft. President Rhee repeatedly pleaded with MacArthur for airplanes and naval vessels, but MacArthur, fearful that they might be used for aggressive purposes, denied the requests. Weapons provided to the ROK military were limited to small arms and light artillery.

By 1950 MacArthur's Far East Command (FEC) was in no shape to fight a war. Drastic cutbacks in the U.S. defense budget had severely reduced its troops and equipment. The four divisions making up the Eighth Army were all severely under strength, each consisting of about 12,800 troops instead of the authorized strength of 18,900. MacArthur had also allowed readiness and training in his command to dete1i orate until, after five years of soft occupation duty, it was unfit to engage a determined foe in co m- bat. A U.S. Army study described the FEC on the eve of war as "flabby and soft, still hampered by an infectious lassitude, unready to respond swiftly and decisively to a full-scale emergency."

That emergency came on 25 June 1950 when North Korea launched a full-scale invasion of South Korea. That same day MacArthur dispatched a cargo ship bearing ammunition, with an air and naval escort, to the beleaguered South Koreans, thus establishing U.S. intervention. Two days later President Harry S. Truman approved the use of U.S. air and naval forces south of the 38th parallel, but he gave no authorization for the use of ground troops.

On 29 June MacArthur flew to Korea to view the situation for himself. What he saw there dismayed him. The ROK capital of Seoul had already fallen, and roads were jammed with refugees and troops of the defeated ROK Army (RO KA) heading south. MacArthur observed the fires burning in Seoul to the north and realized that U.S. troops would have to be thrown "into the breach" if South Korea was to be saved. He also envisage d a later amphibious landing, far behind enemy lines, which could offset the enemy's superior numbers and "wrest victory from defeat."'

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The next day MacArthur, back in Tokyo, received authorization from Washington to utilize limited ground forces to protect the southern port of Pusan, toward which ROK forces were retreating. Washington also authorized MacArthur to use air assets against targets north of the 38th parallel. MacArthur informed Washington that this was not sufficient; U.S. troops would have to be committed in force in order to avert total defeat. President Truman then decided to give MacArthur "full authority to use the ground forces under his command." The United States was now fully committed to war in Asia. On 8 July Truman formally selected MacArthur to command UN forces in Korea. MacArthur was the obvious candidate for the position, but at least one prescient observer (correspondent James Reston) noted that "diplomacy and a vast concern for the opinions and sensitivities of others are the political qualities essential to his new assignment, and these are precisely the qualities General MacArthur has been accused of lacking in the past." MacArthur threw Lieutenant General Walton Walker's Eighth Anny into battle against the rampaging North Koreans immediately after receiving con- sent from Washington. Task Force Smith, an ad hoc group of 430 men from the 24th Infantry Division, was rushed to the peninsula ahead of the main U.S. forces in an attempt to slow the North Korean advance. However, the ill-equipped and poorly trained Americans were badly mauled in their first actions against the determined and well-equipped Korean People's Army (KPA, North Korean) and were forced to retreat along with their ROK allies. The Eighth Army was gradually forced back until the only Korean soil under UN control was a perimeter around the vital port of Pusan. Walker was contemplating further withdrawals when, on 27 July, a "grim faced" MacArthur arrived at Eighth Army headquarters and informed Walker and his staff that further retreat would be "unacceptable." Immediately after this conference Walker issued his famous "stand or die" order to the Eighth Army. There would be no American Dunkirk in Korea. With UN lines stabilized along the Pusan perimeter, the JCS suggested that MacArthur send a senior officer to meet on Formosa with Chinese Nationalist leader Jiang Jieshi (Chiang Kai-shek) to assess Formosa's defenses and inform Jiang that U.S. Navy ships would intercept any Nationalist raids against the People's Republic of China on the mainland. Truman was already concerned about the possibility of Chinese intervention in Korea and was determined not to provoke Beijing over the sensitive issue of Formosa. The JCS recommended MacArthur not go but left this up to him. MacArthur decide to make the trip himself. A strong advocate of Formosa and convinced of its importance to U.S. defense. MacArthur issued statements following the meeting that seemed to imply Fo1mosan-Ame1ican military cooperation. Reaction in Washington was swift, as numerous officials made clear to MacArthur the president's intention to keep Fonnosa neutral. The matter seemed resolved until, on 20 August, MacArthur sent a letter to the Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in Chicago in which he stridently pleaded the case for U.S. defense of Formosa. Truman, outraged by what he considered to be public defiance of his foreign policy, ordered MacArthur to retract his message. But the damage had already been done. The U.S. press had published the text of the letter amid speculation of a rift between Truman and MacArthur. It was at this time, Truman later recalled, that he first considered relieving the general. Meanwhile, the situation in Korea remained grave for UN forces, still confined to their defensive positions around Pusan. MacArthur, eschewing a frontal assault to break the stalemate, gave full attention to his scheme for landing U.S. troops deep in the enemy's rear. The plan, christened Operation CHROMITE, called for a two-division (X Corps) amphibious assault on the port of Inchon, on Korea's west coast twenty miles from Seoul. The invaders would seize the capital, cutting the lines of communication of the KPA, while Eight h Army broke out of the Pusan perimeter. The KPA would be caught and destroyed in a massive pincers movement. But the general had to convince skeptical members of the JCS that the risky plan would work with a minimum of casualties. The plan was bold. Inchon was less than ideal for an amphibious operation. It had high tides and swift currents and lacked landing beaches (the troops would have to assault the heart of the city over seawalls).

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MacArthur acknowledged the difficulties involved and assured his superiors that surprise was guaranteed because the North Koreans would never suspect such a daring operation. "We shall land at Inchon "he said "and I shall crush them!" The JCS and President Truman finally gave their reluctant approval to Operation CHROMITE, which commenced on 15 September. MacArthur watched the 1st Marine Division landings from the bridge of the command ship Mount McKinley. North Korean resistance was light as the Marines seized Inch' on. MacArthur had been correct; the Koreans were taken by surprise, and U.S. casual- ties were light. U.S. and ROKA troops then moved to capture Seoul while the bulk of Communist forces, far to the south, disintegrated and fled northward following the breakout of the Eighth Army from the Pusan perimeter. The landings had worked brilliantly, just as MacArthur had predicted. It was the high point of his career, and a dangerous aura of invincibility now surrounded the general. On 26 September UN forces recaptured Seoul, and three days later MacArthur presided over the ceremony reinstating President Rhee's government in the capital. MacArthur's forces were now on the 38th parallel, where he held them in check. He favored pursuing KPA troops into North Korea, but the popular myth that he ordered troops across the parallel on his own authority is totally false. In the wake of military success, Washington and the UN were overly optimistic. President Truman decided, and the UN resolved, that United Nations Command (UNC) forces should enter North Korea, destroy remaining Communist forces, and reunite the peninsula under a democratic government. MacArthur was given this fateful directive by the JCS on 27 September. He was warned, however, not to allow non-ROK forces to enter any of the northern provinces bordering China. On l October ROK troops crossed the parallel. Two days later, the Chinese issued a warning, largely ignored in Washington, that U.S. troops entering North Korea would "encounter Chinese resistance." Chinese troops began secretly entering North Korea on 14 October. Supremely confident, MacArthur unwisely split his forces, sending X Corps to land (unopposed it turned out) on the east coast at Wonsan and Inchon, while Eighth Army drove north toward Pyongyang, which fell on 19 October. The two forces were dangerously divided by the rugged T'aebaek Mountains and could not come to each other's aid if an emergency arose. On 15 October MacArthur met with President Truman (their first and only meeting) on Wake Island. They met with members of the JCS and discussed a wide array of topics. These were seemingly chosen at random, since there was no set agenda for the conference, which lasted less than two hours. MacArthur was asked if he thought Chinese intervention likely. He responded negatively and assured everyone present that even if the Chinese did enter the conflict there would be "the greatest slaughter" of Chinese troops. MacArthur and Truman then departed, smiling for reporters and seemingly in agreement about the progress of the war. Flying back to his headquarters in Tokyo that same day, MacArthur grumbled that the meeting had been a mere political junket in which the president was trying to bask in the reflected glow of the successful general. Paranoid as always, he feared that the Wake meeting had been a political ambush in which his comments would be used against him if things turned sour in Korea. On 24 October MacArthur, ignoring the JCS directive forbidding non-R OK troops to enter the provinces along the Yalu River, ordered all his forces north. The JCS remonstrated briefly, then relented. The next day Chinese forces struck several UNC units without warning, inflicting heavy casualties before mysteriously withdrawing back into the rugged mountains. MacArthur chose to ignore this evidence of Chinese intervention, or disregard it as a mere warning from Beijing. He ordered his commanders forward.

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Throughout November, UNC forces made contact with numerous Chinese forces, but the general again chose to ignore or downplay the threat. On 24 November he launched the final UNC drive which, he told reporters, would "get the boys home by Christmas." The next day some 180,000 Chinese troops struck the Eighth Army; On 27 November X Corps was attacked by another 120,000. UN forces, divided by the T'aebaek Mountains, were forced into full retreat. Troops of X Corps were surrounded near the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir and compelled to break out southward toward the port of Wonsan, suffering heavy casualties in the process. With his forces in full retreat, MacArthur informed Washington that "we face an entirely new war." This brought another test of wills with Washington. MacArthur demanded that restrictions on the bombing of Yalu bridges be lifted. Washington gave way, but the attacks, restricted to the Korean ends of the bridges, were largely ineffective in stopping the Chinese. MacArthur, stung by press criticism, lashed out at Washington, blaming restrictions placed on his forces as the reason for the UN disaster. On 5 December Truman issued directives, obviously aimed at MacArthur, ordering government officials to use "extreme caution" when making public statements and to have all public statements cleared by Washington before release to the press. On 29 December MacArthur received a new directive from Washington informing him that the original goal of Korean unification was being scrapped. "Korea," the general was told, "is not the place to fight a major war." MacArthur railed at what he regarded as the loss of fighting spirit in Washington. He responded with his own demands for a naval blockade of China, air and naval bombardment of the Chinese mainland, and utilization of Nationalist troops from Formosa. He informed the JCS that if these demands were turned down, then defeat and evacuation were the only alternatives for UN forces. But MacArthur would be proven wrong again, this time by the new ground commander of the Eighth Army, the resourceful and aggressive Lieutenant General Matthew Ridgway, who had taken command following General Walker's death in a jeep accident. Ridgway stabilized UN lines south of the 38th parallel and even launched counterattacks against the Chinese. No evacuation would be necessary. The luster MacArthur had gathered at Inchon was now badly tarnished. Increasingly disturbed by the stalemate in Korea and Washington's restriction s, MacArthur issued a statement that violated Truman's directive, predicting a "savage slaughter" and further stalemate if his methods for waging war were not adopted. The press dubbed it the "Die for Tie" statement. No rebuke came from Washington. On 24 March MacArthur effectively torpedoed a peace initiative from Washington to the Chinese when he insulted the Communists' ability to wage war and called upon the Chinese to admit defeat. This open defiance convinced Truman that the general had to go. As if to seal the decision, MacArthur sent an inflammatory letter to House Minority Leader Joseph Martin in which he again savaged U.S. foreign policy. The policy rift between MacArthur and Truman was now making world head- lines. Truman believed he had to act. On 11 April MacArthur, in Tokyo, received the news that he had been relieved of all his commands. He turned to his wife and said simply, "Jeannie, we're going home at last" (he had not been to America in fourteen years). MacArthur returned to a tumultuous welcome, enjoying ticker-tape parades through cities across America. He addressed a joint session of Congress, but, despite an epic speech, he refused to simply fade away. He testified at the Congressional investigation of his dismissal and there again attacked Truman administration policies in Asia. He toured the country in full uniform, giving shrill, often extremist, speeches at every stop. But gradually he lost his following among the public and a chance at a run for the presidency. In 1952 MacArthur met with President-Elect Dwight D. Eisenhower and presented a plan for victory in Korea. It called for, among other things, the creation of a radioactive wasteland across the peninsula

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near the Yalu River to stem the Chinese flow of men and supplies. Eisenhower tucked the plan in his pocket, thanked MacArthur politely, and simply forgot about the odd proposal. MacArthur spent his remaining years quietly, living with his wife in New York City's Waldorf Hotel. He visited briefly with Presidents John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, urging both to avoid war in Asia at all costs. MacArthur died on 3 April 1964 at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C. He is buried in Norfolk, Virginia.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module III: Transition to the Offense

L432: Decision Making

L432: Optional Reading B Biography of Various Leaders

Author: Spencer C. Tucker

ALMOND, EDWARD MALLORY (1892-1979)

Edward Mallory Almond was a U.S. Army lieutenant general—Far East Command (FEC) chief of

staff and commander of X Corps during the Korean War. He was born on 12 December 1892 in Luray, Virginia as Edward “Ned” Mallory Almond. In 1915, he graduated from the Virginia Military Institute, and went on to command the 12th Machine Gun Battalion of the 4th Infantry Division in France during World War I. He fought in the Aisne-Marne and Meuse-Argonne offensives, was wounded in action, and awarded the Silver Star for gallantry.

In the interwar years, Almond was groomed for high command. After serving as an instructor at the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia, he attended the Army Command and General Staff College, the Army War College, the Air Corps Tactical School, and the Naval War College. During 1930 to 1933, he commanded a battalion in the Philippines. When the United States entered World War II in December 1941, Almond was the assistant chief of staff for operations and training of VI Corps headquartered in Providence, Rhode Island. Shortly thereafter he became the corps chief of staff.

In March 1942, Almond was promoted to brigadier general and assigned as the assistant commander of the 93rd Infantry Division (Colored), which was then in the process of activating at Fort Huachuca, Arizona. In July 1942, U.S. Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall personally selected Almond to command the 92nd Division (Colored). Shortly after this new appointment, Almond was promoted to major general in September 1942.

Almond trained the 92nd in Alabama and Arizona, and he commanded it in Italy in 1944 and 1945. The 92nd was the only all-black division that fought as a complete division in World War II. Despite the dedication and bravery of its soldiers, the 92nd experienced serious problems in both training and combat. To a large degree, this was the result of the general low quality of the white officers assigned to the Army’s segregated black units. Although Almond himself harbored strong and well-known prejudices against minority soldiers, he ultimately was not held responsible for the shortcomings of his division.

After World War II, Almond joined General Douglas MacArthur’s Armed Forces Pacific Command, later designated Far East Command, as assistant chief of staff for personnel. Almond quickly became an insider on MacArthur’s staff, becoming deputy chief of staff in November 1946, and chief of staff in February 1949. MacArthur, who hated staff meetings and administrative procedures, relied heavily on Almond to oversee the day-to-day running of the command. Having served in Europe in World War II rather than in the Pacific, Almond was unique among MacArthur’s inner circle.

On 24 July 1950, Almond became dual-hatted as chief of staff of the United Nations Command (UNC). This was not at all an unusual arrangement, considering that MacArthur served as both UN and U.S. FEC commander in chief and both command headquarters were virtually the same organization. On 26 August 1950, however, MacArthur took the highly unusual step of triple-hatting Almond by

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designating him commander of the newly formed X Corps along with his chief of staff duties. This resulted in an almost unprecedented concentration of command and staff responsibilities under a single officer.

X Corps was the force designated to make the landings at Inchon and was at the time of the landing far in the Korean People’s Army (KPA, North Korean) operational rear.

X Corps initially consisted of the U.S. Army 7th Infantry Division and the 1st Marine Division. Most Marine Corps officers chaffed at the idea of being commanded by a U.S. Army officer for an amphibious assault. During the planning and the conduct of the assault, Almond repeatedly clashed with 1st Marine Division Commander, Major General Oliver P. Smith.

MacArthur further compounded the already complicated command structure by making X Corps directly subordinate to FEC headquarters in Japan, rather than subordinate to Lieutenant General Walton H. Walker’s Eighth Army in Korea. Military analysts and historians widely regard this as a flagrant violation of the principle of unity of command.

Even after the Eighth Army broke out from the Pusan Perimeter and linked up with X Corps, MacArthur continued to keep Almond’s command directly subordinate to FEC. X Corps was sent around to Korea’s east coast for another landing operation at Wonsan. Still independent of Eighth Army, Almond led X Corps in its advance to the Yalu River and in the following Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir campaign. After the Chinese military intervention forced the UN forces back down the Korean peninsula, Almond conducted a skillful withdrawal to the port of Hingnam and from there evacuated his command by sea.

X Corps returned to the Pusan area, and on 26 December 1950, it finally became an integral part of the Eighth Army. Simultaneously, Almond relinquished his positions as FEC and UNC chief of staff. He received his third star in February 1951, partially in recognition for his handling of the Hungnam evacuation.

During the first half of 1951, X Corps operated against KPA and Chinese People’s Volunteer Army

(Chinese Communist) forces in central Korea, participating in the battles of Wünju, Chip’yng-nj, the Soyang River, and the Chinese Spring Offensive. During Operation Roundup in February, Almond ignored intelligence reports that X Corps would be in the center of a major Chinese Counterattack. When the attack did come, it destroyed two Republic of Korea Army (ROKA [South Korean]) divisions under his command.

Almond is one of the most controversial commanders in a war with no shortage of such figures. Often described as “brilliant” and “a human dynamo,” he was also dictatorial and blindly loyal to MacArthur’s flawed strategic vision. Almond repeatedly clashed with Walker and with most of the U.S. Marine and ROKA officers under his command. His handling of the still-segregated black and Puerto Rican units under his command has resulted in historian Clay Blair branding him a blatant racist. Yet Almond could be a skillful if uneven and a brave battlefield commander.

In July 1951 Almond returned to the United States to serve as the commandant of the U.S. Army War

College at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. He retired from the U.S. Army in January 1953. After retirement, he worked for an insurance company in Alabama and from 1961 to 1968 he served as the president of the Board of Visitors of the Virginia Military Institute. Almond died on 11 June 1979.

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BARR, DAVID GOODWIN (1895-1970)

U.S. Army General born on 16 June 1895 at Nanafalia, Alabama, David Goodwin Barr attended

Alabama Presbyterian College for three years and was commissioned a second lieutenant of infantry in the Officer Reserve Corps in November 1917. During World War I, he served with the 1st Division in France and in the Occupation of Germany until September 1919, when he returned to the United States. A year later, he was promoted to first lieutenant.

In the inter-war years, Barr served as an instructor with the New York National Guard; with the 16th Tank Battalion at Camp Meade, Pennsylvania and with 22nd Infantry Regiment at Camp McClellan, Alabama. During 1926-1927, he was assigned to the office of the U.S. military attaché in Paris and attended the French tank school at Versailles. He subsequently served with tank units at Fort Benning, Georgia and in October 1930, he became adjutant of the newly formed mechanized force at Fort Eustis, Virginia. He attended the Army Command and Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, graduating in June 1936.

After graduation from the Army War College in June 1939, Barr was assigned briefly in Washington, D.C., before joining the I Armored Corps at Fort Knox, Kentucky. In May of 1941, he became corps G-4 and in June of 1942, was advanced to brigadier general and reassigned as chief of staff of the armored force, in which he served until July 1943, when he was sent to London to serve as chief of staff of the European Theater. In January of 1944, Barr was named chief of staff of the Headquarters of the North African Theater of Operations. He was promoted to major general in February 1944 and that September, he became chief of staff of the U.S. Sixth Army Group in France. He returned to the United States in July of 1945 and served as a personnel officer at Headquarters of Army Ground Forces until January 1948, when he became chief of the Army Advisory Group in Nanjing (Nanking), China. In that position he advised Secretary of Defense James Forrestal in January of 1949 to discontinue arms shipments to Jiang Jieshi (Chiang Kai-shek) because they were being intercepted by Mao Zedong’s Communist forces.

In May of 1949, General Barr assumed command of the 7th Infantry Division in Japan. He took the division to Korea in September of 1950 and commanded it during the hard fighting at Inchön, in the X Corps amphibious landing at Wónsan (which he opposed), on the march to the Yalu River and the subsequent withdrawal, and in fighting around the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir. Barr was an excellent staff officer and well-liked by his troops but lacked the drive of the best combat commanders. He was thus frequently at odds with imperious X Corps Commander Lieutenant General Edward M. Almond and Almond’s staff. In accordance with the U.S. Army policy of reassigning senior commanders with recent combat experience to training commands, Barr left Korea in January of 1951 to become commandant of The Armor School at Fort Knox, Kentucky. He retired from active duty in February of 1952 and died on 26 September 1970 in Falls Church, Virginia. —Charles R. Shrader

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1. - LIEUTENANT COLONEL RAYMOND L. MURRAY

Born January 30, 1913 in Los Angeles, California, Murray grew up to attend Texas A&M

College. While there, he was enrolled in the Reserve Officer Training Course. Graduating in 1935 with a Bachelor of Arts degree, he did a short stint in the Texas National Guard and then was commissioned in the Marine Corps on 1 July. After Basic School, he was ordered to duty in China, 1937-1940. A radical change of scenery led to an assignment as a captain with the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade in Iceland, 1941-1942.

Moving overseas in November 1942 with the 2nd Division, he was awarded the Silver Star in

January 1943 for his service as Commanding Officer, 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines on Guadalcanal. As a lieutenant colonel, he took his battalion on to Tarawa in November 1943, where he

received a second Silver Star. This was followed by exploits on Saipan that brought him a Navy Cross and a Purple Heart in June 1944.

The years after World War II saw Murray in a variety of peacetime Marine Corps duties

leading to his taking over in July 1950 as Commanding Officer, 5th Marines (a billet normally reserved for a full colonel). When his regiment became the core of the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade in Korea and then was a key unit in the Inchon-Seoul battles, he again distinguished himself in combat and was awarded his third Silver Star, a fourth one from the Army, and a Legion of Merit with Combat "V" in August and September of 1950.

Further combat at the Naktong River, Inchon, Seoul, and the Chosin Reservoir brought a

second Navy Cross and an Army Distinguished Service Cross. In January 1951, after nearly eight years as a lieutenant colonel, he was promoted to full

colonel and then, after a sequence of duties in Washington, Quantico, and Camp Pendleton, to the rank of brigadier general in June of 1959. This led to his assignment as Assistant Division Commander, 3rd Marine Division on Okinawa. Promoted to major general in February 1963, he saw duty as Deputy Commander, III Marine Amphibious Force in Vietnam in October 1967.

After 33 years of highly decorated active duty, Murray retired in August 1968 as a major

general.

Biography from “U.S. Marines in the Korean War” edited by Charles R. Smith and published by the U.S. Marine Corps in 2007

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COLONEL HOMER L. LITZENBERG, JR. His troops called him ”Litz the

Blitz,” for no particular reason except the alliteration of sound. He had come up from the ranks and was extraordinarily proud of it.

Immediately before the Korean

War began, he was in command of the 6th Marines at Camp Lejeune, about to turn over the command to another colonel. When war came, he was restored to command of the regiment and sadly watched his skeleton battalions depart for Camp Pendleton to form the cadre for the re-activated 1st Marines. This was scarcely done when he received orders to re-activate the 7th Marines on the West Coast.

Litzenberg was a ”Pennsylvania

Dutchman,” born in Steelton, Pennsylvania in 1903. His family moved to Philadelphia and after graduating from high school and two years in the National Guard, he enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1922. Subsequent to recruit training at Parris Island, he was sent to Haiti. In 1925 he became a second lieutenant. East Coast duty was followed by expeditionary service in Nicaragua in 1928 and 1929 and then by sea service in a string of battleships: Idaho, Arkansas, Arizona, New Mexico, and the cruiser Augusta. After graduating from the Infantry School at Fort Benning in 1933, he had two years with a Marine Reserve battalion in Philadelphia. Next came two years on Guam as aide to the governor and inspector-instructor of the local militia. He came home in 1938 to serve at several levels as a war planner.

When World War II came, he was sent as a major to England to serve with a combined

planning staff. This took him to North Africa for the amphibious assault of Casablanca in November 1942. He came home to form and command the 3rd Battalion, 24th Marines in the new 4th Marine Division, moving up to regimental executive officer for the assault of Roi- Namur in the Marshalls. He then went to the planning staff of the V Amphibious Corps for Saipan and Tinian.

After the war, he went to China for duty with the Seventh Fleet and stayed on with Naval

Forces—Western Pacific. He came home in 1948 and was given command of the 6th Marines in 1949.

After Inchon, he continued in command of the 7th Marines through the battles of Seoul,

Chosin Reservoir, and the Spring Offensive, returning to the US in April 1951. He was soon

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promoted to brigadier general and subsequently to major general, and had many responsible assignments including assistant command of the 3rd Marine Division in Japan, Inspector General of the Marine Corps, command of Camp Pendleton, and command of Parris Island. He returned to Korea in 1957 to serve as senior member of the United Nations component negotiating at Panmunjom. At the end of the year, he came back for what would be his last assignment, another tour of duty as Inspector General.

He retired in 1959, with an elevation to lieutenant general because of his combat awards

that included a Navy Cross, a Distinguished Service Cross, and three Silver Stars. He died in the Bethesda Naval Hospital on 27 June 1963 at age 68 and was buried in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors.

Biography from “U.S. Marines in the Korean War” edited by Charles R. Smith and published by the U.S. Marine Corps in 2007

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MAJOR GENERAL OLIVER P. SMITH Oliver Prince Smith did not fill the Marine Corps ”warrior“ image. He was deeply religious,

did not drink, seldom raised his voice in anger, and almost never swore. Tall, slender, and white- haired, he looked more like a college professor. Some of his contemporaries thought him pedantic and a bit slow. He smoked a pipe in a meditative way but when his mind was made up, he could be as resolute as a rock. He always commanded respect and with the passage of years, that respect became love and devotion on the part of those Marines who served under him in Korea. They came to know that he would never waste their lives needlessly.

As commanding general of the 1st Marine Division, Smith's feud with the mercurial

commander of X Corps, Major General Edward M. Almond-USA, would become the stuff of legends.

No one is ever known to have called him ”Ollie.” To his family he was Oliver; to his

contemporaries and eventually to the press (which at first tended to confuse him with the controversial Holland M. ”Howlin' Mad“ Smith of World War II) he was always ”O. P.” Smith. Some called him "the Professor" because of his studious ways and deep reading in military history.

Smith was born in Menard, Texas, in 1893. By the time America entered into the First World

War, he had worked his way through the University of California at Berkeley, class of 1916. While a student at Berkeley, he qualified for a commission in the Army Reserve which he exchanged, a week after America's entry into the war on 6 April 1917, for the gold bars of a Marine Corps second lieutenant.

The war in Europe, where the

Marines gained international fame, passed him by; he spent the war years in lonely exile with the garrison on Guam.

Afterward, in the 1920s, he followed

an unremarkable sequence of duty, much like that of most lieutenants and captains of the time: barracks duty at Mare Island, sea duty on the Texas, staff duty at Headquarters Marine Corps (HQMC), and a tour with the Gendarmerie d’ Haiti.

From June 1931 to June 1932, he

attended the Field Officer's Course at Fort Benning. Next came a year at Quantico, most of it spent as an instructor at the Company Officer's Course. He was assigned in 1934 to a two-year course at the Ecole Superieur la de Guerre in Paris, then considered the world's premier school for rising young

officers. Afterwards he returned to Quantico for more duty as an instructor.

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The outbreak of World War II in 1939 found him at San Diego. As commanding officer of the

1st Battalion, 6th Marines, he went to Iceland in the summer of 1941. He left the regiment after its return to the States for duty once again at HQMC in Washington. He went to the Pacific in January 1944 in time to command the 5th Marines during the Talasea phase of the Cape Gloucester operation. He was the assistant commander of the 1st Marine Division during Peleliu and for Okinawa was the Marine Deputy Chief of Staff of the Tenth Army.

After the war, he was the Commandant of Marine Corps Schools and base commander at

Quantico until the spring of 1948 when he became the assistant commandant and chief of staff at Headquarters. In late July 1950, he received command of the 1st Marine Division destined for Korea and held that command until May 1951.

After Inchon and Seoul, a larger, more desperate fight at Chosin Reservoir was ahead of him.

In early 1951, the 1st Marine Division was switched from Almond's X Corps to Major General Bryant E. Moore's IX Corps. Moore died of a heart attack on 24 February 1951 and, by seniority, O. P. Smith became the corps commander. Despite his experience and qualifications, he held that command only as long as it took the Army to rush a more senior general to Korea.

O. P. Smith's myriad of medals included the Army Distinguished Service Cross and both the

Army and the Navy Distinguished Service Cross for his Korean War Service. On his return to the United States, he became the commanding general of the base at Camp

Pendleton. Then in July 1953, with a promotion to lieutenant general, he moved to the East coast to the command of Fleet Marine Force—Atlantic, with headquarters at Norfolk, Virginia. He retired on 1 September 1955 and for his many combat awards was promoted to four-star general. He died on Christmas Day 1977 at his home in Los Altos Hills, California, at age 81.

Biography from “U.S. Marines in the Korean War” edited by Charles R. Smith and published by the U.S. Marine Corps in 2007

L441

Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

Advance Sheet for L441

Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War 1. SCOPE

Do ethics change in war? Does an organization with a sound ethical climate in CONUS apply a different set of rules when deployed? Does a commander make allowances for stress in the organization when assessing the actions of Soldiers in war? L100 discussed the challenges of developing a healthy, disciplined, and ethical command climate within organizations. Now we want to look at the challenge of sustaining an ethically aligned organization in war. This lesson examines the responsibilities of the organizational leader in maintaining the systems in place that ensure ethical behavior, the factors that contribute to unethical conduct in war, and the consequences of undisciplined and unethical behavior on the command climate if left unchecked. The commander must align behavior (both personal and organizational) with espoused beliefs and values by setting high expectations and establishing and imparting clear intent and purpose. The case study for this lesson is an incident in Iraq involving Soldiers from the 4th Infantry Division under the command of LTC Nate Sassaman, commander of the 1-8 Infantry, 3rd BCT. In reviewing this incident, we examine the findings from the Peers Commission, which investigated the 1968 My Lai Massacre in Vietnam, and consider the relevance of those findings on today’s operational environment.

As a result of this lesson, you obtain a better understanding of the factors that contribute to unethical behavior in combat, your responsibilities in sustaining an ethical command climate, and the consequences of unethical behavior within an organization. This lesson has strong links to Organizational Culture and Climate, Organizational Stress and Resilience, and Developing Ethically Aligned Organizations in the L100 block. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite Learning objective: TLO-AOC-1, “Examine how commanders rive the operations process using the framework of understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess (UVDDLA).” This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO-10.7 Action: Analyze the commander’s role in leading ethical organizations Condition: As a field grade officer at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principals of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes— 1. Analyze the commander’s obligation for sustaining an ethically disciplined command climate 2. Analyze the factors that contribute to an unethical command climate

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3. Analyze the consequences of unethical behavior in an organization Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: L441 advance sheet and readings.

b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available. 4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement

Read: L441RA: Filkins, Dexter. "The Fall of the Warrior King." New York Times, October 23, 2005.

[17 pages] L441RB: United States. Department of the Army. Report of the Department of the Army Review

of the Preliminary Investigations into the My Lai Incident. By William R. Peers. Washington: Dept., 1970. [10 pages]

L441RC: US Army, ADP 6-22 Army Leadership and the Profession, (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 2019) [Paragraphs 2-17 to 2-22]

L441RD: Rielly, Robert. "The Darker Side of the Force – The Negative Influence of Cohesion." Military Review, April 2001. [8 pages

L441RE: Dittmann, Melissa. "What Makes Good People Do Bad Things?" Read from link at https://web-okcd02.mail.mil/owa/redir.aspx?C=FsoLlVJE37YZIhhcF- dPiEQxYIFAWZ2STMmqsLmRUuiC31ZDanvYCA..&URL=https%3a%2f%2fwww.apa.org%2fmonito r%2foct04%2fgoodbad

For additional readings on this topic, consider: Wright, Darron. Iraq Full Circle Oxford, UK: Osprey Publishing, 2012. Pages 145-150. Sassaman, Nathan, and Joseph Layden. Warrior King: The Triumph and Betrayal of an American

Commander in Iraq. New York: St. Martin's Press, 2008. This book provides LTC Sassaman's personal account of his experiences in Iraq.

Gembara, Vivian H., and Deborah A. Gembara. Drowning in the Desert: A JAG's Search for Justice in Iraq. Minneapolis: MBI Pub., 2008. A very detailed account, which provides background on the command climate in 1-8 IN and a legal perspective on the incident.

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Waller, James. Becoming Evil: How Ordinary People Commit Genocide and Mass Killing. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Bilton, Michael, and Kevin Sim. Four Hours in My Lai. New York: Viking, 1992. This book provides background on My Lai and the other significant issues relating to the incident.

Grossman, Dave. On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society. Boston: Little, Brown, 1995. Grossman’s perspective provides some psychological insights on how learning to kill must be managed and controlled.

(2) Second Requirement Case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard under the AOC

leadership area. This is a study aid. Your instructor explains its use in class. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in the case study.

(3) Third Requirement Reflective questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Be prepared to discuss them in class:

- Is it acceptable at times to make unethical decisions if it preserves the lives of men and women? - Who determines what is ethical and what is not? - When dealing with host nations, is there ever an ethical "line in the sand" that a leader must draw to compartmentalize “their values” from "our values?" - In combat, is “NCO business” a euphemism for unethical behavior? Do you believe there is a dual standard for ethical conduct within the ranks? - Of the factors the Peers Commission identified, how many are present in operations today? - How does an organizational-level leader sustain and maintain an ethical command climate in war?

- Whether in combat or not, what makes good people do bad things?

- How does an organizational leader ensure the organizational climate promotes dignity and respect for all?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access to:

L441 leadership advance sheet Lesson readings ADP 6-22, Army Leadership ADP 3-0, Operations

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN: During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes this by assessing your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the end of course leadership essay. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your

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responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

L441: Reading A Fall of the Warrior King Author: Dexter Filkins

The body had not yet turned up. Indeed, at that point, early in January 2004, it wasn’t clear there was

a body at all. Months later, at the trial, the lawyers would still be arguing about it, the puffy, wrinkled corpse that was finally found floating face down in an irrigation canal off the Tigris. But even then, even before the dead man surfaced, it was clear that something had gone wrong on that cold Iraqi night down by the river, something wild by the American military's standards of discipline and force, and the problem had wended its way up the chain of command to the unit's commander, Lt. Col. Nathan Sassaman.

Even in an Army in which ferocious competition produced nearly perfect specimens of brains and lethality, Sassaman stood apart. Commanding some 800 soldiers in the heart of the insurgency-ravaged Sunni Triangle, Sassaman, then 40, had distinguished himself as one of the nimblest, most aggressive officers in Iraq. From his base in Balad, a largely Shiite city in a sea of Sunni villages, Sassaman bucked the civilian authorities and held local elections months earlier than in most of the country's other towns and cities. His relations with the locals in Balad were so warm that on each Friday afternoon, inside a circle of tanks on an empty field, his men would face off against the Iraqis for a game of soccer. He was a West Point grad and the son of a Methodist minister. As quarterback for Army's football team in the 1980s, he ran for 1,002 yards in a single season and carried West Point’s team to its first bowl victory. Everyone in the Army knew of Nate Sassaman.

Yet as his junior officers briefed him in January about what had happened to two Iraqis his men detained that night by the Tigris, the straight lines and rigid hierarchy of the Army that had created him seemed, like so many other American ideas brought to this murky land, no longer particularly relevant. More important, Sassaman told me later, were his own men, most of them 19- and 20-year-old kids plunked down in this seething country, wearing themselves out to keep the enterprise going, coming under fire four or five times a day. The same day that his men took the two Iraqis down to the river, he attended a memorial service for one of his ablest junior officers, Capt. Eric Paliwoda, whose heart had been punctured by mortar shrapnel and whom Sassaman had lifted into a medevac helicopter as the last of his life drained away.

There would be a fuss if his superiors discovered what his men had done that night, Sassaman did not doubt. It would be the kind of indignation you could expect from people who didn’t really know what it was like to fight and live in this place. Sure, it was a dumb thing, but his men had assured him that neither of the Iraqis had been hurt. His best platoon commander even jumped into the water a couple of days later to prove the point. And so Sassaman, standing on the porch of the battalion’s command post, decided to flout his 19 years in the Army and his straight-and-narrow upbringing. He turned to one of his company commanders, Capt. Matthew Cunningham, and told him what to do.

“Tell them about everything,” Sassaman said, “except the water.”

The events that would end the career of one of the Army's most celebrated midlevel officers sent a

shock through the American force in Iraq. It is only now, with the Army’s investigation complete and Sassaman’s career over, that the story can be pieced together from interviews with him, his comrades and

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the Iraqis. Twenty-two months after that night on the Tigris, it is a tale that seems like a parable of the dark passage that lay ahead for the Americans in Iraq.

Marwan and Zaydoon Fadhil, cousins in the central Iraqi city of Samarra, had driven their white Kia

truck to within a few hundred yards of their home when a group of American soldiers waved them to the side of the road. The Fadhils had arrived from Baghdad, ferrying a load of toilet fixtures and plumbing supplies. It was Jan. 3, 2004, either a few minutes before the 11 p.m. curfew or a few minutes after. Later on, no one would agree.

The soldiers who flagged down the two Iraqis had just begun an especially perilous few days of duty. Samarra, an angry Sunni city, had slipped from American control. Sassaman’s men, known for their exceptional aggressiveness, had been sent to take it back.

By this time, the Iraqi insurgency was in full bloom. The holy month of Ramadan, beginning in October 2003, had coincided with a surge in attacks and American combat deaths. The insurgents were acting with greater sophistication every day, shooting down American helicopters, mortaring American bases, even firing rockets at Paul Wolfowitz, then the deputy defense secretary. In Samarra, the guerrillas had made so much mayhem that the American unit in charge of the town had abandoned its bases.

The emergence of the Iraqi insurgency stunned senior American commanders, who had planned for a short, sharp war against a uniformed army, with a bout of peacekeeping afterward. Now there was no peace to keep. In response, American officers ordered their soldiers to bring Iraq back under control. They urged their men to go after the enemy, and they authorized a range of aggressive tactics. On a visit from his headquarters in Tikrit, Maj. Gen. Raymond Odierno, the commander of the Fourth Infantry Division, ordered Sassaman and other officers simply to “increase lethality.” Sassaman, adored by Odierno for the zeal with which his men hunted down guerrillas, took the order to heart. He sent his men into the Sunni villages around Balad to kick down doors and detain their angry young men. When Sassaman spoke of sending his soldiers into Samarra, his eyes gleamed. “We are going to inflict extreme violence,” he said.

On the night of Jan. 3, the American soldiers approached Marwan and Zaydoon with caution. The curfew then in force throughout much of Iraq was supposed to help in separating insurgents from ordinary Iraqis. Anyone caught on the streets after the appointed hour was assumed to be a guerrilla. At the very least, any such person would be detained; if he acted aggressively, he would be killed. The truck driven by Marwan and Zaydoon was a white Kia pickup, known as a “bongo truck,” the same type commonly used by insurgent mortar teams. Marwan, a 24-year-old studying to be a math teacher, and Zaydoon, a 19- year-old engaged to be married, often traveled to Baghdad to buy parts and supplies that couldn't be had in Samarra. It was a way to make money in the anarchic postwar Iraqi economy.

After a thorough search of the truck, the enlisted men in the platoon satisfied themselves that neither man was an insurgent. As best the soldiers could determine, their car had broken down on the way from Baghdad, and they had stopped to repair it. They were racing to beat the curfew when the Americans pulled them over. Still, it was difficult to know for sure. Like most Americans operating in Iraq, the platoon had no translator. Marwan and Zaydoon spoke no English. There were a lot of hand signals.

“Curfew! Curfew! Curfew!” Specialist Ralph Logan pleaded. “Baghdad! Baghdad! Baghdad!” Marwan and Zaydoon replied.

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At the time, the American soldiers were under strict instructions to detain anyone out after curfew, but they usually allowed themselves a little leeway. When, earlier that evening, a carload of Iraqis passed carrying a pregnant woman, the soldiers waved it through. Sgt. Carl Ironeyes, the squad’s leader, told Marwan and Zaydoon they could go; he gave them as stern a warning as he could manage without knowing any Arabic. The Iraqis got into their truck and drove off.

But as the two men pulled away, an order came over the radio from the platoon’s officer, Lt. Jack Saville, still nearby in his Bradley personnel carrier, to stop the men again and detain them. The soldiers flagged down the truck once more and, according to procedure, cuffed the hands of Marwan and Zaydoon and put them on the floor of their Bradley. The soldiers from Alpha Company’s first platoon did not take Marwan and Zaydoon to their base, as they were supposed to. Instead, Saville ordered the platoon to take a detour, to a bridge that runs atop the Tharthar Dam, a mammoth steel barrier that spans the Tigris River just outside of town. Marwan and Zaydoon were ordered out of the Bradleys, and the soldiers cut their cuffs. The water lay 70 feet below.

“Are you crazy?” Staff Sgt. Tracy Perkins asked Saville.

After some discussion, Saville agreed to a different spot, a place on the riverbank just beneath the bridge. He ordered a squad of five soldiers to take Marwan and Zaydoon down the trail that led from the road past a pump house to the river bank. This time, the drop was about 10 feet. The moon was high; the water, green and dark.

Marwan and Zaydoon stood on the bank. The soldiers motioned with the guns.

“Jump,” one of them said.

When I first met Nathan Sassaman in October 2003, he and his men were already deep into the Iraqi enterprise. Sassaman had taken command of the Fourth Infantry Division's 1-8 Battalion in June, and although, like most American officers, he had received virtually no training in building a new nation or conducting a guerrilla war, he had quickly figured out what he needed to do: remake the area’s shattered institutions, jump-start the economy and implant a democracy, all while battling an insurgency that was growing more powerful by the day. “It’s like Jekyll and Hyde out here,” Sassaman said at the time. “By day, we're putting on a happy face. By night, we are hunting down and killing our enemies.”

In one 24-hour period I spent with Sassaman, he began the day presiding over a meeting of the Balad City Council, shepherding the Iraqis through the rudiments of democratic rule. Later, he led about 150 of his men on house-to-house searches for insurgents in a Sunni village outside of town. Then he drove into the countryside to dole out money to tribal leaders to help them with mosque repairs. That night, his post came under mortar attack, and Sassaman was first out the door, racing to his Bradley to hunt down the guerrillas. At 2 a.m., he finally lay down on his cot for what turned out to be four hours of sleep. He never took his boots off.

It was an astonishing performance. On that warm October day, Sassaman seemed to embody not just the highly trained, highly educated officer corps that the American Army had brought to Iraq but also the promise of the American enterprise itself. Tough, witty and relentless, Sassaman was one of those people who seemed to take command by walking into a room. He had been an A student in Portland, Ore., earning appointments to both West Point and the Air Force Academy, and was recruited by Princeton as well. As Army's quarterback in the 1984 season, he helped to transform what promised to be another disappointing year into one of the school's best, taking the team to an 8-3-1 season. That year included

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victories over Navy, in which Sassaman ran for 154 yards and two touchdowns, and over Michigan State in the Cherry Bowl. For much of the season, Sassaman played with three cracked ribs. “That's the kind of leader he was,” says his coach, Jim Young.

In Iraq, Sassaman produced moments that seemed to justify a cautious optimism: that from this broken and brutalized land, with a generous American hand, a more humane and more ordinary society might be coaxed to life. One of those moments unfolded at a meeting of the newly formed Balad City Council, which Sassaman had worked hard to bring to life. Seated at a table inside the Balad Youth Center, an Iraqi man called out the names of the council members, and one by one, they walked to the front of the room and stood before their constituents. As a predominantly Shiite city, Balad had felt the jagged edge of Saddam Hussein's rule, and the council members looked older than their years. Yet there they were, standing erect in their shabby clothes before a quiet round of applause.

“I won an election without threats or intimidation,” one of them, a 43-year-old farm owner named Hussein Ali, declared after the meeting. “The people know me in this town. I've pledged to do my best for them, to improve city services.”

With a master’s degree in public administration from the University of Washington and a number of unusually bright junior officers around him, Sassaman was better prepared than many of his comrades. But for the most part, when it came to nation-building or waging a counterinsurgency campaign, Sassaman was basically winging it. For starters, his men were spread incredibly thin. With roughly 800 soldiers, his battalion was responsible for nearly 750 square kilometers, some 300 square miles. There were Sunnis and Shiites, cities and farms, Sufis and Salafis. There were villages, like Abu Hishma, that sheltered die-hard supporters of Hussein, and cities like Balad, where the survivors of Hussein's regime wandered about as if just unstrapped from the torturer's table, which some of them were.

There were no Army manuals on how to set up a local government in a country ruined by 30 years of terror, no maps for reading the expressions on the face of a Sunni sheik, no advice on handling the city engineer who was taking bribes to dole out electricity. American money for public-works projects, so critical in showing good will and putting young men to work, came in bursts and then dried up. Projects began; projects stalled. Lt. Col. Laura Loftus, who commanded a combat engineer battalion in Dujail, a city just south of Sassaman's area, recalled that when she arrived in July 2003, she found herself responsible for a city of 75,000 people in a state of complete physical and psychological collapse. Dujail was receiving four hours of electricity every third day, and half the town had no drinking water. Sewage drained through the streets. Thousands of Dujail's people had been murdered or tortured by Hussein’s men. “It was a good thing I paid attention in high-school civics,” she told me. “There was no playbook.”

`Sometimes Sassaman's efforts in Balad approached the absurd. When he wanted to set up a police force, no one in his battalion had the slightest idea of what this would entail. His men asked around, and it turned out that a reservist who was attached to Sassaman's battalion had brought an operations manual with him from the Tiverton, R.I., Police Department. Soon the Balad Police Department was functioning remarkably like its counterpart in a New England village. When Sassaman decided to hold an election, some members of the civilian leadership in Baghdad thought he was pushing too fast. Sassaman and his men forged ahead anyway, registering 45,000 voters. He finally received permission by agreeing to call the balloting a “selection,” not an “election.”

His power was very nearly total. He could chart the future of a city, lock up anyone he wanted and, if trouble arose, call in an airstrike. When he walked into a crowd, the Iraqis would sometimes smile and sometimes tremble, and sometimes both.

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“For a whole year,” Sassaman told me, “I was the warrior king.” For all the intensity of the war in Iraq, one of the most remarkable things is how little American

generals prepared the Army to fight it. When Sassaman and his men arrived in Iraq, they were ready to fight World War II or the first gulf war, but nothing as murky as a guerrilla insurgency. (“I wish there were more people who knew about nation-building,” Sassaman told me one night. “Don’t they have those people at the State Department?”) Despite the experience of the Vietnam War, the American Army has continued to devote most of its resources to preparing for a conventional conflict: deploying a big, uniformed army to destroy another big, uniformed army. In the months before they went to Iraq, soldiers with the 1-8 Battalion traveled to the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, Calif., where they took part in a colossal war game against a mock enemy army, the “Kraznovians,” modeled on the Iraqi Army.

But as a consequence of its overwhelming power and prowess, the American Army is not likely to face an enemy similar to itself. It is more likely to face guerrillas. Guerrilla wars typically begin when a smaller army is confronted by a larger one, forcing it to turn to the advantages it has: its ability to hide amid the population, its knowledge of the local terrain, its ability to mount quick and surprising attacks and then melt away before the larger army can strike back. This is more or less the case in Iraq, as it was in Vietnam, yet the leadership of the American Army is still wary of preparing the bulk of its troops to fight a guerrilla war. Most American soldiers are trained to use maximum force to destroy an easily identifiable enemy. Waging a counterinsurgency campaign, by contrast, often requires a soldier to do what might appear to be counterproductive: use the minimum amount of force, not the maximum, so as to reduce the risk of killing civilians or destroying property. Co-opt an enemy rather than kill him. If necessary, expose soldiers to higher risk. In the American Army, that sort of training is mostly relegated to forces like the Green Berets, who account for a small percentage of the Army's manpower.

“It’s a chronic problem that runs deep in the DNA of the Army,” says John Waghelstein, a retired colonel in the Special Forces who helped to conduct the American-backed counterinsurgency campaign in El Salvador. “The Army has never taken counterinsurgency seriously. The Army’s doctrine hasn’t changed since the 1840’s.” At the Army's Command and General Staff College in Fort Leavenworth, Kan., attended by all American officers hoping to rise above the rank of major, students must pass a rigorous program consisting of roughly 700 hours of instruction. Of that, not a single required course focuses on how to fight guerrilla wars.

Waghelstein says that the Army’s leaders actually decided to de-emphasize counterinsurgency following Vietnam. When Waghelstein was an instructor at the Command and General Staff College, the school eliminated several courses that dealt with guerrilla war or turned them into electives, he says. Kalev Sepp, a retired Special Forces officer and a counterinsurgency adviser to the American command in Iraq, told me: “It’s a cliché that the Army is always fighting the last war, but with the American Army, that's not true. When the Vietnam War ended, the Army tried to pretend it never happened. The typical officer in the military knew far more about the Battle of Gettysburg than he did about Vietnam. Initially, in Iraq, they were just making it up.”

Instructors at the staff college defend its curriculum, saying they were trying to train American commanders to adapt to a range of circumstances, including insurgencies. “It is a very uncertain world,” says Col. Tom Weafer, director of the Staff College at Ft. Leavenworth. “We try to prepare our officers to be comfortable with uncertainty.”

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That may be, but the soldiers of the 1-8 Battalion were prepared for a very specific fight: they expected to sweep south from Turkey with the rest of the Fourth Infantry Division and confront Saddam Hussein's army. There was no mention of setting up police departments, rebuilding sewage systems, registering voters. There were no plans for a guerrilla war. “They told us, ‘We’re not going to be doing any of that Delta Force garbage,” Sergeant Perkins told me. But the Turkish Parliament refused to allow its country to be a springboard. The division entered the Sunni Triangle from the south, after the invasion was over. Sassaman’s men quickly found that the war was not only still going on but also unfolding in a way they had not anticipated.

As Gen. Ricardo S. Sanchez, the top commander in Iraq until July 2004, told John F. Burns, a reporter for The New York Times, in June 2004: “In May 2003, the general attitude was that the war was over. But within a matter of days, we began to realize that the enemy was still out there.” Odierno, the commander of the Fourth Infantry Division, told me that the differences between conventional and guerrilla war are exaggerated and that, in any case, his men were well prepared to fight the Iraqi insurgency. But he conceded that they had crossed the Atlantic expecting a very different battle than the one they got.

“Our mission changed,” Odierno said. “We had to adapt.” In late November 2003, I drove with a photographer to Sassaman’s base as the Iraqi insurgency was

gathering force. As we wound our way down a country road, we spotted Sassaman and a handful of his men standing on the roadside, gathered round an Iraqi man. It was an interrogation.

“If you weren’t here with your camera, we would beat the [expletive] out of this guy,” one of the soldiers said. He may have been bluffing, but he was clearly frustrated. Sassaman seemed a harder man, too, though it had been just a few weeks since he was swearing in the City Council and his men were playing soccer with the locals. Beginning in October, the Iraqi insurgency had taken off. The American command decided to lift the curfew in many Iraqi cities to coincide with the arrival of Ramadan, the Muslim holy month. Sassaman went further, setting up a tent and inviting local tribal leaders to announce a “cease-fire.” As long as his men did not come under attack, Sassaman told the sheiks, he would ease off from offensive operations.

The gesture drew two sharply different responses. By consequence of geography, Sassaman presided over the two leading realities of modern Iraq, Shiite and Sunni. In the area under his command, the Shiites were concentrated in Balad, and the Sunnis lived in the villages outside. The Shiites, largely receptive to the American occupation, saw the lifting of the curfew as an act of good will; in the Sunni areas, the insurgents saw an opportunity to assert themselves. Across the Sunni Triangle, violence exploded.

Over time, Sassaman found that virtually every aspect of his patch of Iraq had that yin-yang quality. Where the Shiites appreciated American efforts to quell the violence, Sunnis saw them as acts of war. While self-government took hold in Balad, in the Sunni areas there was cold apathy. In Abu Hishma, a Sunni village of about 7,000, the Americans were met with stares and obscene gestures; even the adults would run their fingers across their necks as the soldiers drove by. Slogans on the walls exhorted Iraqis to kill Americans. Crowds of young men would gather to throw rocks at American patrols. And then there were the armed attacks.

The divisions reinforced themselves. Sassaman directed most of his reconstruction money, nearly $4 million, to the Shiite areas for the simple reason that his men did not come under attack there. When the

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Americans entered Abu Hishma, it was seldom to build schools or roads; it was to patrol for insurgents and kick down doors.

I accompanied Sassaman and his men on one search through a Sunni village in October 2003, and I was able to witness the dynamic on my own. The searches seemed absolutely necessary, given the violence, but they seemed to be draining whatever good will the Sunnis had left for the Americans. In one dawn raid, soldiers from the 1-8 Battalion surrounded a house, kicked open its doors and stormed inside. They rousted 11 men from their beds, pulled them outside and forced them to squat on their haunches. Still inside, in the living room, a young woman stood with three small girls, probably her daughters, each with her hands high in the air. The Americans found no weapons. The Iraqi men squatted outside for half an hour. “I feel bad for these people, I really do,” Sgt. Eric Brown said that morning. “It’s so hard to separate the good from the bad.”

On the night of Nov. 17, as one of the battalion's patrols moved past Abu Hishma, a crowd of young

Iraqis began taunting them. Seconds later, a team of insurgents fired a volley of rocket-propelled grenades directly at one of the Bradleys. One rocket-propelled grenade, or R.P.G., sailed directly into the chest of the driver, Staff Sgt. Dale Panchot. It nearly cut him in half.

The death of Panchot seemed to change everything for the battalion. Sassaman decided that the Sunni sheiks had broken the truce and that from that moment there would be no more deals. Building a democracy in places like Abu Hishma would have to take a back seat. The new priority would be killing insurgents and punishing anyone who supported them, even people who didn’t.

The day after Panchot was killed, Sassaman ordered his men to wrap Abu Hishma in barbed wire. American soldiers issued ID cards to all the men in the village between the ages of 17 and 65, and the soldiers put up checkpoints at the entrance to the town. Around the camp were signs threatening to shoot anyone who tried to enter or leave the town except in the approved way. The ID cards were in English only. “If you have one of these cards, you can come and go,” Sassaman said, standing at the gate of the village as the Iraqis filed past. “If you don't have one of these cards, you can’t.”

As a measure intended to persuade the Iraqis to cooperate, wrapping Abu Hishma in barbed wire was a disaster. As they lined up at the checkpoints, the Iraqis compared themselves with Palestinians, who are sometimes forced to undergo the same sort of security checks and whose humiliations are shown relentlessly on television screens across the Arab world. “It’s just like a prison now,” said Hajji Thamir Rabia, an old man in the village. “The Americans do night raids, come into our houses when the women are sleeping. We can't fight them. We don't have any weapons.” After Abu Hishma was wrapped in barbed wire, the attacks against the Americans dropped off, but it was a victory bought at no small price. Much of the village felt humiliated and angry, hardly the conditions for future success. Sassaman's reputation was sealed, as I discovered when I slipped past the guards and into the town. “When mothers put their children to bed at night, they tell them, ‘If you aren't a good boy, Colonel Sassaman is going to come and get you,’” an old man in the village said.

After a time, the insurgents came to fear him more than they did the others. When Sassaman left Balad, the attacks would increase; when he returned, they would fall away. Once, when Sassaman was returning from a mission in Samarra, insurgents fired a single mortar round into his compound, as if to welcome him back. He responded by firing 28 155-millimeter artillery shells and 42 mortar rounds. He called in two airstrikes, one with a 500-pound bomb and the other with a 2,000-pound bomb. Later on, his men found a crater as deep as a swimming pool.

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“You know what?” Sassaman told me. “We just didn’t get hit after that.”

Yet the experience in Abu Hishma and the other Sunni towns posed a basic challenge for Sassaman's men: apart from killing insurgents, how could the Americans ensure that their authority would be respected and that they would be obeyed in a place where they were so thoroughly hated? In Sunni towns like Samarra and Abu Hishma, even the ones wrapped in barbed wire, the Americans found that if they were not being shot at, they were being challenged, and not just by small handfuls of villagers but by nearly everyone. Young men hurled rocks at American patrols. Adults stayed out past curfew. People scrawled graffiti exhorting their neighbors to kill American soldiers. Some of the resistance was passive: whenever American soldiers showed up in a Sunni village looking for insurgents, the locals, more often than not, just stood and shrugged. And some Iraqis, though not actually shooting at the Americans, were clearly cooperating with the insurgents. When Sassaman’s soldiers would go on a patrol through a Sunni area, for instance, they might see a man on a rooftop a hundred yards away, unarmed and in street clothes, watching them go by. Farther down the road, another Iraqi might be standing off to the side, looking at his watch, marking the time of the convoy's pass. The myriad acts of defiance signified the steady erosion of American authority. And they led to the death of American soldiers. “If I don’t do anything when the guy flips me off, then the next time I drive by there, I’m going to catch an R.P.G.,” Perkins said.

In other countries where American authority has been challenged, soldiers have come to rely on “nonlethal force.” In places like Kosovo, American soldiers have threatened to cut off the electricity to restive neighborhoods. They have lectured the parents of many unruly teenagers. In Iraq, American officers relied on a panoply of nonlethal measures to help control the Iraqis. Col. Dana Pittard, who commanded some 3,000 American troops in the mixed Sunni-Shiite area of Baquba until earlier this year, said that when a young Iraqi made an obscene gesture to an American soldier, his men typically took the child home and scolded his parents. When men threw rocks, the Americans went to the local sheik and threatened to cut down palm groves.

Pittard’s tactics were so successful in engaging the Sunni population that, in the run-up to the January elections, Sunni leaders in Diyala Province asked a group of influential clerics to give the area's Sunnis permission to vote. In Baquba, in contrast to nearly everywhere else in Iraq, Sunnis cast ballots in large numbers. “War is more than just killing people,” Pittard said. “We were trying to gain the trust and confidence of people.”

Under the prodding of the generals, Sassaman took the concept of nonlethal force to its limits. His theory was that no progress would be possible without order first and that ultimately, even if his men were hard on the locals, they would come around. When his men came under fire from a wheat field, Sassaman routinely retaliated by firing phosphorous shells to burn the entire field down. The ambush site would be gone, and farmers might be persuaded not to allow insurgents to use their land again.

Sassaman detained Sunni sheiks, holding them responsible when his troops were attacked. When Iraqis gave him bad intelligence, he detained them, too. When locals scrawled graffiti on a wall, denouncing President Bush or calling on the Iraqis to kill Americans, Sassaman asked local leaders to paint it over, and if they did not, he ordered his men to destroy it. If kids threw rocks, his men threw rocks back. If they caught an Iraqi man out after curfew, they piled him into a Bradley, drove him miles outside of town and told him to walk home. “All I was getting at was, If grown-ups throw rocks at me, we’re throwing them back,” Sassaman said. “We are not going to just wave. We are not driving by and taking it. Because a lot of the units did.”

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On a mission in January 2004, a group of Sassaman’s soldiers came to the house of an Iraqi man suspected of hijacking trucks. He wasn’t there, but his wife and two other women answered the door. “You have 15 minutes to get your furniture out,” First Sgt. Ghaleb Mikel said. The women wailed and shouted but ultimately complied, dragging their bed and couch and television set out the front door. Mikel's men then fired four antitank missiles into their house, blowing it to pieces and setting it afire. The women were left holding their belongings.

“It's called the ‘leave no refuge’ policy,” Mikel later explained to Johan Spanner, a photographer working for The New York Times.

That same winter in Samarra, Sassaman’s men moved through a hospital and pulled a suspected insurgent from his bed. When a doctor told the Americans to leave, a soldier spat in his face. Another time, an officer told Spanner, one of Sassaman’s soldiers threw a wounded man into a cell and threatened to withhold treatment unless he told them everything he knew. “We’ve told him he’s not getting medical attention unless he starts to talk,” Capt. Karl Pfuetze told Spanner. The man’s fate was unknown. (Pfuetze now denies the withholding of treatment. Sassaman insists he never condoned beatings or denial of medical treatment.)

The best explanation for such tactics was offered by an officer in the Fourth Infantry Division. Echoing the private comments of many American officers, he said that the Iraqis seemed to understand only force. “To an American, this might upset our sense of decency,” he added. “But the Iraqi mind-set was different. Whoever displays the most strength and authority is the one they are going to obey. They might be bitter, but they obey.”

Among the enlisted men in Sassaman’s unit, one of them, Specialist Ralph Logan, had demonstrated his misgivings about the rough tactics. Logan, 26, was sometimes chided by his peers for the delicacy with which he searched Iraqi houses, carefully pulling blankets out of closets and folding them into piles, while his comrades flung everything onto the floor. “People didn’t exactly get beaten up,” Logan said. “They got slapped around, roughed up, usually after they were detained. It was gratuitous. Sassaman didn’t do it, but he definitely knew about it. He definitely condoned it.”

But most of the tactics employed by Sassaman’s men had been explicitly ordered or at least condoned by senior American officers, and many units in the Sunni Triangle were already using the same kind of tough-guy methods. The order to wrap Abu Hishma in barbed wire, for instance, was given by Col. Frederick Rudesheim, Sassaman’s immediate supervisor. Odierno signed off on the wrapping of Saddam Hussein’s birthplace, Awja. Destroying homes and detaining people as quasi hostages – those, too, were being condoned by American generals. At a news conference in November 2003, Sanchez, the top commander in Iraq, acknowledged that he had authorized the destruction of homes thought to be used by insurgents. That same month, American officers said they detained the wife and daughter of Gen. Izzat Ibrahim, a high-ranking member of Hussein’s government who was still at large. The hope, they said, was that the women could lead them to Ibrahim. Asked at a news conference about the destruction of houses, Sanchez said, “Well, I guess what we need to do is go back to the laws of war and the Geneva Convention and all of those issues that define when a structure ceases to be what it is claimed to be and becomes a military target.”

When I spoke to him earlier this year, Odierno acknowledged that in the autumn of 2003 he ordered his commanders to kill more insurgents. He said he also encouraged the use of nonlethal force. But Odierno said he left it up to the lower-ranking commanders like Sassaman to determine what methods to

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use. “I tried to give them overarching guidance,” Odierno said of his battalion commanders. “I would not get into those details.”

At the same time Odierno was encouraging Sassaman to kill more insurgents, Rudesheim was often telling him to go easy. Rudesheim explained to Sassaman that his forceful ways risked alienating or even killing innocent Iraqis. He often denied Sassaman the use of mortars, particularly the ones with phosphorous rounds that could burn down fields. He prohibited Sassaman's men from smashing open the gates on the exterior walls of Iraqi homes during searches, insisting that the soldiers climb over the walls instead.

To Sassaman, Rudesheim was a desk man who didn’t understand the needs of his men and didn’t spend enough time in the field to find them out. “Fred thought we were too aggressive, that all we needed to do was maintain the status quo,” Sassaman told me. In an interview, Rudesheim, who is now at the Pentagon, suggested that Sassaman had exaggerated the differences between them. He said, for instance, that he had authorized the use of artillery “all the time” and only denied the use of phosphorous to burn down fields.

As the tensions grew, Sassaman said he began to ignore Rudesheim’s orders altogether. Sassaman said he was relying on the assumption that Odierno backed a more aggressive approach. “Ray is saying, ‘Kill, kill, kill,’” Maj. Robert Gwinner, Sassaman’s deputy, recalls. “And Rudesheim is telling us to slow down. It drove Nate crazy.”

The tough tactics employed by Sassaman's battalion had their effect. Attacks in the Sunni villages like Abu Hishma, wrapped in barbed wire, dropped sharply. And his men succeeded in retaking Samarra. Winning the long-term allegiance of the Iraqis in those areas was another matter, however. If many Iraqis in the Sunni Triangle were ever open to the American project – the Shiite cities like Balad excepted – very few of them are anymore. Majool Saadi Muhammad, 49, a tribal leader in Abu Hishma, said that he had harbored no strong feelings about the Americans when they arrived in April 2003 and was proud to have three sons serving in the new American-backed Iraqi Army. Then the raids began, and many of Abu Hishma’s young men were led away in hoods and cuffs. In early 2004, he said, Sassaman led a raid on his house, kicking in the doors and leaving the place a shambles. “There is no explanation except to humiliate,” Muhammad told me. “I really hate them.”

In retrospect, it is not clear what strategy, if any, would have won over Sunni towns like Samarra and Abu Hishma. Crack down, and the Iraqis grew resentful; ease up, and the insurgents came on strong. As Sassaman pointed out, the Americans poured $7 million of reconstruction money into Samarra, and even today, the town is not completely under American control.

But there is another reason American commanders shy from using violence on civilians: the effects it has on their own men. Pittard, the American commander in Baquba, says that he was careful not to give his men too much leeway in using nonlethal force. It wasn’t just that he regarded harsh tactics as self- defeating. He feared his men could get out of control. “We were not into reprisals,” Pittard says. “It’s a fine line. If you are not careful, your discipline will break down.”

In most of the 20th century's guerrilla wars, the armies of the countries battling the insurgents have suffered serious breakdowns in discipline. This was true of the Americans in Vietnam, the French in Algeria and the Soviets in Afghanistan. Martin van Creveld, a historian at Hebrew University of Jerusalem, says that soldiers in the dominant army often became demoralized by the frustrations of trying to defeat guerrillas. Nearly every major counterinsurgency in the 20th century failed. “The soldiers fighting the insurgents became demoralized because they were the strong fighting the weak,” van Creveld

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says. “Everything they did seemed to be wrong. If they let the weaker army kill them, they were idiots. If they attacked the smaller army, they were seen as killers. The effect, in nearly every case, is demoralization and breakdowns of discipline.”

One such moment may have come in January 2004, when Mikel and his men, on the same day they destroyed the women’s home, asked a group of about 10 Iraqi men to help them find someone. According to Johan Spanner, the photographer, the men shrugged and told Mikel that they didn’t know anything. Mikel and his men told the Iraqis to do push-ups. “Do this,” one of the Americans said, getting down on the ground to demonstrate. So the Iraqi men got down on the ground and started doing push-ups, and the American soldiers stood around and laughed.

It was around this time that soldiers in the 1-8 started getting people wet. It seemed to work so well the first time they tried it, in December 2003, when the men from Alpha Company’s first platoon were driving their Bradleys toward the Balad airfield, and an Iraqi man, standing in front of his auto repair shop, raised his hand in an obscene gesture. On the way back, the Americans stopped and searched the shop but found nothing. Lt. Jack Saville, the platoon commander, told his men to take the Iraqi to a pontoon bridge that ran across the Tigris and throw him into the river.

“The next time I went back, the guy is out there waving to us,” Perkins said. “Everybody got a chuckle out of that.” Perkins said that he never told his superiors about what they did.

In interviews and court testimony, Sassaman and the battalion’s other officers said that they were never told about the incident and never authorized the tactic. At most, some of them said, they might have discussed the practice in meetings, but only in a hypothetical way. “We did not discuss putting the Iraqis in water as a deterrent for curfew violations,” Sassaman's deputy, Gwinner, testified. “But we recognized it from the battalion leadership that it indeed was within the scope of nonlethal force.”

On the night of Jan. 3, as Marwan and Zaydoon came driving into Samarra, soldiers in the first

platoon apparently decided to try the tactic again. Inside the Bradleys, Perkins’s voice came over the radio.

“Somebody is going to get wet tonight,” he said.

Some of the soldiers in Perkins's platoon said later that they figured they would be tossing an Iraqi into the Tigris again. Perkins insisted that he was only talking about the likelihood that it would rain.

When Saville ordered the five soldiers to take Marwan and Zaydoon down to the riverbank, four of the soldiers obeyed, but one of them did not: Logan. It wasn’t that he feared Zaydoon and Marwan would be killed. But Logan knew the platoon was straying from its orders: to detain any Iraqis found outside after curfew. And he thought the Americans were going too far.

“I kind of looked at it as high schoolers picking on freshmen,” Logan told me. “Us being the seniors; the Iraqis being the freshmen.”

He knew that by refusing a direct order, he was risking arrest. But his comrades, used to him being the oddball – used to his folding blankets on house raids – didn’t insist. Sgt. Alexis Rincon told Logan to stand guard while the rest of them did their business.

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For the American soldiers, making the two Iraqis jump into the water amounted to a kind of fraternity prank. The Americans had taken the Iraqis to a spot with a short drop. They had removed the Iraqis’ cuffs. The current below seemed tame enough. “We cut the cuffs off because we weren’t trying to hurt the Iraqis; we were just trying to teach them a lesson for being out after curfew,” Specialist Terry Bowman testified later. But if it was a prank, Marwan and Zaydoon weren’t going along. When Martinez told the men to jump, Marwan and Zaydoon began to beg.

“We were pleading with the American, ‘Please, please do not do this,’” Marwan told me this past summer. Zaydoon grabbed onto one of the Americans and begged as well. It was clear the Iraqis weren’t going to go in without a struggle. “Once we got to the edge of the water, Sergeant Martinez had his weapon pointed at Zaydoon, and Specialist Hardin pushed him over,” Bowman testified. “When Zaydoon went off, Marwan walked forward and jumped.” Marwan lurched so violently that he almost pulled Bowman in with him.

The soldiers turned to go back to their Bradleys. Martinez stayed behind a little longer to make sure the two Iraqis weren't in any danger. Marwan, known by the soldiers as “the fat guy,” and Zaydoon, “the skinny guy,” appeared to Martinez to be on their way out. “I didn’t ever see both of the Iraqis get out of the water,” Martinez testified later. “I did see the chubby guy on the bank almost out, and the skinny guy was doing good treading water, and so Sergeant Rincon and I felt the guys would be O.K., so we left.” But five other American soldiers said they saw two people either climbing out of the water or standing near the spot where the Iraqis had gone in.

“I was looking through my thermal sights toward the objects to my right when we were moving,”

Sgt. Tony Fincher, a gunner on one of the Bradleys, said at Perkins’s trial, held at Ft. Hood, Tex. “I did see two people coming out of the water there, because they’re easily identifiable, because the heads glow because they’re hot, the hands glow; clothing is easily seen.”

Marwan tells a different story. When he plunged into the river, Marwan recalled, the frigid water enveloped his body and a swift current pulled him toward the gates of the dam, less than 50 feet downstream. “I felt the water dragging me,” he told me. “I was thinking of Zaydoon. I was looking at him. The water was so cold. My feet never touched the bottom. I tried to save Zaydoon, but he slipped from my hands.”

Marwan said that he would have drowned had he not grabbed hold of a tree branch hanging over the water. Marwan said he grabbed and pulled himself out, spent a few minutes looking for his cousin and then walked a few hundred yards to an Iraqi Army checkpoint. The next day, Marwan said, he found his white bongo truck where he had left it, run over and smashed.

Now, more than a year later, Marwan said he still dreams of that night and of his cousin Zaydoon. He said he harbors no doubts about what the American soldiers were trying to do. “They were trying to murder us,” he told me. As he struggled to get out of the Tigris that night, Marwan said, he could hear the sound of laughter from the top of the bridge. At least one of the Americans remembered that, too. “When they got back, they were chuckling about it,” Logan said.

Sassaman learned about the incident a few days later. If it was true that his men were throwing Iraqis into the Tigris, Rudesheim later recalled telling Sassaman, then all of the soldiers involved could be court- martialed. Although Sassaman didn’t know it, the Army had already begun a criminal investigation.

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Still in Balad, Sassaman called his deputy, Gwinner, and told him to find out what had happened. The soldiers of the first platoon told Gwinner what they had done, but said that both Iraqis had climbed out of the water. To satisfy himself, Gwinner took the entire platoon to the place where the soldiers had pitched the Iraqis into the river. To test the depth of the water, Gwinner ordered Saville to jump in. Saville plunged in over his head, but after a couple of paddles, he stood in water no higher than his waist.

Sassaman decided that if he tried to explain to Rudesheim what had happened – that his men had indeed thrown the Iraqis into the water but that they had come out alive – then Rudesheim would likely go ahead and arrest his men. Sassaman decided that throwing the Iraqis into the Tigris was wrong but not criminal and that publicizing it could whip up anti-American feeling. He decided Saville and the others had made a mistake that was better handled without arrests. “I really didn’t lie to anybody,” Sassaman told me not long ago. “I just didn’t come out and say exactly what happened. I didn’t have anything to gain by ordering a cover-up. There was no way I was going to let them court-martial my men, not after all they had been through.”

The deception didn’t last long. Perkins, Saville and the others had settled on a story that didn’t mention the water. But after several hours of questioning from Army investigators, several of the soldiers confessed. Sassaman, on hearing that there was a criminal investigation, phoned Odierno to tell him the whole story.

An Iraqi search party found a body on the 13th day, floating in a canal on the other side of the Tharthar Dam, a little more than a mile from where Marwan and Zaydoon had gone into the water. Marwan was there when the body was fished out.

A yellowy videotape, shot by Zaydoon’s family, shows family members hovering over a waterlogged cadaver in a shroud. The cloth is peeled back, revealing a wrinkly face. Then it is wrapped up again before the video goes dark. “Focus on the eyes,” a voice says. In keeping with Muslim tradition, Zaydoon's family buried the body the day it was found. Though no Americans examined the body, Rudesheim ordered the Fadhil family to be paid about $12,000 for the funeral and the smashed truck.

But at Perkins’s trial, defense attorneys argued that Zaydoon never died and that his funeral had been faked, probably at the behest of insurgents who wanted to use the incident to accuse the Americans of murder. “I know that guy is still alive,” Perkins told me. “I was the last one to leave, and I saw two guys out of the water.” A classified American intelligence report, introduced at Perkins's trial, reported that, according to confidential Iraqi informants, Zaydoon was alive and hiding in Samarra.

This was not out of the range of plausibility: once before, American officers say, a high-value insurgent leader was discovered to have faked his funeral, while his comrades dumped the corpse of another guerrilla into the water. The corpse, shot in the face, could not be identified. The insurgent leader was captured later in Baghdad.

“I was told that Zaydoon was alive in Samarra by my most trusted Iraqi informants,” Capt. Alexander Williams, an intelligence officer, testified at Perkins’s trial. An American medical examiner testified that the body shown in the family's video had most probably been in the water only a few days, not the 13 that passed between the time Zaydoon went into the Tigris and when the corpse was found. If the body had been in the water for that long, the medical examiner, Elizabeth Peacock, said, then some of it would have been reduced to a skeleton. What remained would have turned green and black. “I did not see any evidence that the body spent an extended period of time in the water,” Peacock said.

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Finally, there was the question of how swift the river had been that night. Some of the soldiers said the current had been moderate. One soldier said that the water was so stagnant that a layer of scum floated on top. In an interview, Kareem Hamadi, the director general of water projects in Samarra, gave precise specifications about the strength of the current. Thirty-four of 36 water-control gates were opened the night of Jan. 3, he said. Among the open gates was the one next to the shore, which diverts the flow into the canal where the body was found. That first gate had been opened 34 inches, enough for a water flow of about 3,500 cubic feet of water per second. And probably enough for a body to pass through. The depth of the water was about 16 feet, Hamadi said. “A water flow like that creates a very strong and very swift current,” he added. “Enough to drag a person through the dam.”

Army investigators didn't buy the idea that Zaydoon was alive. They considered the intelligence report, which was drawn up by a member of Sassaman’s battalion, to be faked. “I personally believed that the whole chain of command was lying to me,” Sgt. Irene Cintron, an agent with the Army’s criminal investigation division, testified.

The questions were never answered. In late 2004, as attorneys were preparing to try Perkins’s case, investigators told the judge that it was too dangerous to send soldiers to the grave site to exhume the body. When the case was delayed to determine whether Zaydoon was still alive, lawyers told the judge that their principal confidential informants, contacted again, had refused to cooperate. Nizar al-Samarrai, an Iraqi lawyer and Zaydoon’s uncle, shook his head when I suggested that his nephew might have survived his plunge into the Tigris. He repeated a proverb: “The saddest things can make you laugh.”

One paradox, which Sassaman and not a few others pointed out, was that the Americans could have shot Marwan and Zaydoon that night, and no American officer would have raised an eyebrow. Two young Iraqi men, in a nasty Sunni town, caught driving a pickup after curfew: Iraqi civilians have been killed for less. But in exploring the possibilities of “nonlethal” force – an idea meant to spare Iraqis, not kill them – the soldiers had crossed a line.

But where is the line? How much more serious was it to throw an Iraqi civilian into the Tigris, which was not approved, than it was to, say, fire an antitank missile into an Iraqi civilian's home, which was? Where is the line that separates nonlethal force that is justified – and sometimes very painful – from nonlethal force that is criminal? At trial, attorneys for Perkins argued that their client should be spared in part because the Army did not adequately prepare its soldiers for the guerrilla war in Iraq. In the words of Joshua Norris, one of Perkins’s lawyers, Sassaman’s soldiers were operating in a “doctrinal vacuum.” The generals wanted higher body counts, and they wanted the insurgency brought under control, but they left the precise tactics up to the soldiers in the field.

So what should American soldiers do when they find themselves in a town where almost everyone hates them? At the trial, the Army decided not to address those questions. This past January, a military jury, made up of soldiers from the Fourth Infantry Division, convicted Perkins of assault. Saville, who gave the order to throw the Iraqis into the water, pleaded guilty to the same charge. Perkins received a sentence of six months; Saville, 45 days. Given the unanswered questions about the body, the manslaughter charges fell away. Both men, in effect, were convicted not of killing Zaydoon but of pushing him and Marwan into the water. Of getting them wet.

Logan, who refused to go down to the river that night, left the Army shortly after he returned to the

United States last year, largely, he says, because he felt as if his comrades no longer wanted him around. Bowman and Rincon (who helped to push Marwan and Zaydoon into the river) also left the Army.

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Sassaman, Gwinner and Cunningham received written reprimands for impeding the Army's investigation; their careers were effectively ruined. Sassaman decided to retire. His last day was June 30.

At Perkins's trial, Sassaman waved away the chance to apologize for what happened. Testifying for the defense, he scolded the jury for second-guessing one of his soldiers in the field. “I never thought there was any criminal intent involved,” Sassaman testified. “It was a bad call. And while we’re thinking about that, we can just talk about everybody making mistakes over there.” The judge, Col. Gregory Gross, told Sassaman such comments were unnecessary. Indeed, the responsibility of American generals was not seriously discussed at the trial.

When I saw Sassaman in June, outside of Fort Carson, in Colorado Springs, he was still officially in the Army. But in every real way, he was gone. The reprimand, signed by Odierno, said that Sassaman's conduct had been “wrongful, criminal and will not be tolerated.” He had decided to retire and was using the last bits of his vacation to stay away. No one seemed to want him around anyway. Sitting in Starbucks in Colorado Springs, Sassaman professed no bitterness over his time in Iraq. It wasn't easy to believe him. “They threw us under the bus,” he said of the Army.

Sassaman was entertaining a lot of job offers, and he was leaning toward coaching football. The money wasn’t as good, but Sassaman said he was excited about the prospect of returning to football.

In a field not far away, some months before, Sassaman had presided over a ceremony for the men from the 1-8 Battalion who had received medals in Iraq. About 1,200 people turned out for the event. Sassaman pinned Purple Hearts and Bronze Stars on about 80 of his men.

Sassaman earned a medal of his own in Iraq, a Bronze Star, awarded for valor, but it was not given to him on that day. In August 2003, when his patrol came under attack, Sassaman had braved machine-gun and R.P.G. fire to drag one of his wounded soldiers from his vehicle. Then he chased down the insurgents and killed them.

Sassaman’s ceremony lacked the fanfare of the earlier one. It was held about a month later in the headquarters parking lot. Sassaman and a few other officers were there, along with his commander, Rudesheim. The bleachers were empty. Rudesheim pinned the medal to Sassaman’s uniform, on the upper left of his chest. Sassaman recalled thinking how strange it was that the man with whom he had clashed so many times in Iraq would be the man who awarded him a medal for bravery.

“More than anyone I know,” Sassaman remembers his commander saying, “you deserve this.”

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

L441: Reading B The Peers Report Investigation into the My Lai Incident

Author: Peer Investigation Committee The purpose of this chapter is to provide a brief discussion of some of the major factors which appear

to the inquiry to have contributed to the tragedy of Son My.

Chapter 8: Significant Factors Which Contributed to the Son My Tragedy

a. General

In reviewing the events which led up to the Son My operation Of 16 March 1968 and the military situation that existed in the area at that time, certain facts and factors have been identified as having possibly contributed to the tragedy. No single factor was, by itself, the sole cause of the incident. Collectively, the factors discussed in this chapter were interdependent and somewhat related and each influenced the action which took place in a different way.

Undoubtedly, there were facts and circumstances beyond those dealt with in this chapter which could be said to have had a major influence upon the event. The discussion which follows is not intended to be exhaustive, nor a definitive explanation of why Son My happened. Such an effort would be clearly beyond the competence of this Inquiry. Consideration of the following factors does; however, tend to highlight the differences between the Son My operation and numerous other operations conducted throughout South Vietnam over a period of years. It also points up the potential dangers inherent in these operations, which require constant vigilance and scrupulous attention to the essentials of discipline and the unique responsibilities of command. Consideration of these factors also may assist in understanding how the incident could have occurred. b. Plans and Orders

There is substantial evidence that the events at Son My resulted primarily from the nature of the

orders issued on 15 March to the soldiers of Task Force (TF) Barker. Previous chapters of this report have described the content of the different orders issued by LTC Frank Barker, CPT Earnest Medina, CPT Earl Michles, and the various platoon leaders and have indicated the crucial errors and omissions in those orders. The evidence is clear that as those orders were issued down through the chain of command to the men of C Company and perhaps to B Company, they were embellished and, either intentionally or unintentionally, were misdirected toward end results presumably not foreseen during the formative stage of the orders.

The orders derived from a plan conceived by LTC Barker and approved by several of his immediate superiors. There is no evidence that the plan included explicit or implicit provisions for the deliberate killing of noncombatants. It is evident that the plan was based on faulty assumptions concerning the strength and disposition of the enemy and the absence of noncombatants from the operational area.

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There is also evidence to indicate widespread confusion among the officers and men of TF Barker as to the purpose and limitations of the “search and destroy” nature of the operation, although the purpose and orientation of such operations were clearly spelled out by MACV directives in effect at that time. The faulty assumptions and poorly defined objectives of the operation were not explored nor questioned during such reviews of the plan as were made by MG Samuel Koster, BG Andy Lipscomb, and COL Oran Henderson. LTC Barker’s decision and order to fire the artillery preparation on portions of My Lai (4) without prior warning to the inhabitants is questionable but was technically permissible by the directives in effect at that time. The implementing features of that decision were inadequate in terms of reasonable steps that could have been taken to minimize or avoid consequent Vietnamese casualties from the artillery preparation. The orders issued by LTC Barker to burn houses, kill livestock, destroy foodstuffs (and possibly to close the wells) in the Son My area were clearly illegal. They were repeated in subsequent briefings by CPT Medina and possibly CPT Michles and in that context were also illegal.

While the evidence indicates that neither LTC Barker nor his subordinates specifically ordered the killing of noncombatants, they did fail, either intentionally or unintentionally, to make any clear distinctions between combatants and noncombatants in their orders and instructions. Coupled with other factors described in this report, the orders that were issued through the TF Barker chain of command conveyed an understanding to a significant number of soldiers in C Company that only the enemy remained in the operational area and that the enemy was to be destroyed.

c. Attitudes Toward the Vietnamese

TF Barker had some men who had been law violators and hoodlums in civilian life and who

continued to exercise those traits, where possible, after entering the Army. It appears from the evidence, however, that the men were generally representative of the typical cross-section of American youth assigned to most combat units throughout the Army. Like the men in those other units, the men of TF Barker brought with them the diverse traits, prejudices, and attitudes typical of the various regions of the country and segments of society from hence they came.

There has been testimony to the effect that a “dink” or “slope” complex may have existed among many of the men of C Company. These terms were in fact used frequently by C Company witnesses in referring to Vietnamese in general. For some, the terms were apparently used in the same context in which “Kraut,” “Jap,” and “Gook” were used in referring to the enemy in past wars. For others, its use evidently suggested subordination (in their view) of the Vietnamese to an inferior status. For still others, the use of these terms appears to have been simply a case of going along with the majority, using the terms used by most of the other men to describe Vietnamese (whether friendly or enemy). The available evidence does not indicate that the use of the term “dink,” “slope,” or “gook” by the men of C Company signified any widespread subliminal classification of Vietnamese as subhuman, however distasteful such terms might be. In fact, some of the men were fond of the Vietnamese nationals. Many indicated a dislike for and, on a recurring basis, mistreated Vietnamese civilians. Many of the men accepted Vietnamese noncombatants on a neutral basis prior to the Son My operation. Additionally, there is evidence that a substantial number of the men in C Company did not trust the Vietnamese. Part of the reason for this lay in previous experiences during which Vietnamese villagers had failed to warn them of the presence of mines and booby traps which, when subsequently detonated, wounded and killed many of their fellow soldiers. Several of the men apparently felt, with some justification, that if the Vietnamese involved had been truly “friendly” they would have warned the soldiers about the mines and booby traps. Whether the various commanders in TF Barker had detected this general feeling, of mistrust and had attempted to prevent it from developing into a dangerous tendency to categorize all Vietnamese, not specifically

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identified otherwise as being the “enemy,” is not clear from the testimony available.

While it is impossible to judge the matter with precision, it is considered likely that the unfavorable attitude of some of the men of TF Barker toward the Vietnamese was a contributing factor in the events of Son My. d. Casualties from Mines and Booby Traps

A significant number of witnesses testified concerning the effect of mine and booby trap casualties on

the morale and attitudes of the soldiers of TF Barker. Besides the generally demoralizing effect which these incidents had upon the men, it is apparent from the evidence that they also served to aggravate a feeling of frustration among the men which derived primarily from their previous failures to come to grips with the enemy.

The men of C Company had specifically been subjected to such frustrations during the previous operations conducted by TF Barker in Son My. While employed outside the principal area where solid enemy contacts were developed by other TF elements (on 13 February and again on 23 February), C Company sustained, during the same time frames, a total of 15 casualties from enemy mines and booby traps. It had suffered another five casualties from enemy booby traps two days before the Son My operation. The company had not encountered identifiable enemy forces during either period of time.

It is evident that the enemy’s extensive use of mines and booby traps had a considerable effect upon the men and contributed significantly to the events of Son My. e. Prior Failure to Close With The Enemy

One of LTC Barker’s major frustrations was the past failure of the TF to come to grips with, in his

words “to do battle,” with the VC 48th Local Force (LF) Battalion. These failures had been highlighted by BG Lipscomb in previous after-action critiques, and were underscored again by COL Henderson in his remarks to TF personnel on the afternoon of 15 March. Given the competitive nature of command assignments and the general tendency to evaluate command performance on the basis of tangible results, it appears that LTC Barker and his subordinate commanders probably viewed the Son My operation as a real opportunity to overcome their past failures (or lack of opportunity) to close effectively with and defeat a major identifiable enemy force. Whether this factor had an effect on the lack of discrimination shown in their planning and orders is not clear from the evidence.

As indicated previously, past failure or lack of opportunity to fight an enemy force had also had a significantly frustrating effect on the morale and attitudes of the soldiers of C Company.

Rather than the continuation of essentially nonproductive reconnaissance-in-force operations with attendant high casualties from mines and booby traps, the Son My operation offered them the opportunity to fight what was (described to them as) almost certainly the 48th VC Local Force Battalion, under conditions and at a time favorable to them. Given their past failure or lack of opportunity to do battle with the enemy and the information which they were provided by CPT Medina, the evidence is clear that many of them also considered the Son My operation as a tangible chance to alleviate some of their past frustrations.

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f. Organizational Problems

In previous chapters, this report has provided an examination of the organizational difficulties which confronted the Americal Division and its subordinate elements at the time of the Son My operation. To attach undue importance to this fact would involve ignoring similar organizational difficulties faced and successfully resolved by other US Army divisions in Vietnam and in other wars. Nevertheless, it is apparent from the evidence and testimony made available to the Inquiry that the Americal Divisions’ organizational process, coupled with other factors, detracted from the ability of key personnel to properly supervise to ensure that combat operations were being conducted in the appropriate manner. This was most evident in the apparent demands placed on the time available to the various commanders who had direct or indirect responsibilities for supervising the preparation and execution of the Son My operation and in the evidence which indicates that during the post-Tet 1968 time frame there was a lack of any positive enforcement (by means of disciplinary action) of the provisions of division and brigade directives dealing with the treatment of noncombatants.

A commander at the battalion (task force), brigade, or higher level normally depends heavily upon his staff to assist him in planning, coordinating, influencing, and supervising his subordinate units and the men in those units. At the 11th Brigade level, creation of TF Barker apparently resulted in a weakening of the brigade staff because of the loss of the former S3/XO, LTC Barker, the former S1, MAJ Charles Calhoun, and several other officers and noncommissioned officers. Coupled with the brigade change of command which occurred on 15 March, these factors probably contributed to a decline in the proficiency and supervisory capability of the 11th Brigade headquarters.

TF Barker was organized with an austere staff and had no individual who performed exclusively as the TF executive officer. The evidence indicates that the austere staffing of the TF may have had some influence on the Son My operation, particularly in terms of the adequacy of the planning phase, and that a disproportionate amount of LTC Barker’s time and effort may have been spent on matters which, under ordinary circumstances, would have been handled by the staff.

It is evident that the organizational problems involving the Americal Division and subordinate elements contributed to inadequate supervision of the planning phase for the Son My operation and, in that sense, played a part in the events which followed. g. Lack of Command Rapport within TF Barker

There is substantial evidence that LTC Barker did not have a close personal relationship with his

company commanders. This may have been Barker’s chosen method of operating as TF commander. A more tangible factor was the apparent necessity for Barker to devote a disproportionate amount of his time and effort to matters which an adequate staff might otherwise have been capable of handling. From LTC Barker’s vantage point, his was solely a tactical mission. The majority of the routine administrative and logistical support for the rifle companies still came from their parent battalions. The evidence indicates that such an arrangement probably had a detrimental effect on the morale of the soldiers and their commanders, and may well have caused the company commanders and their men to feel that they were a transient element in a temporary organization.

Whatever the cause, the evidence suggests that the lack of command rapport within TF Barker may have given rise to a void in communications between Barker and his subordinates. This void was apparently filled in part by the TF S3, MAJ Calhoun. Given the interim nature of the TF, the demands on Barker’s time in order to overcome difficulties arising from the austere staffing of the TF, and the

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understandable loyalties of the three company commanders toward their parent battalions and battalion commanders, Barker’s detachment from his subordinates may have been more apparent than real. Of more significance is the probability that the absence of a close personal relationship between Barker and his subordinates may have given rise to a lack of understanding on his part as to the professional capabilities of each of his company commanders and an uncertainty on their part as to what he specifically expected of them and their companies. Ultimately the lack of personal rapport and contact between LTC Barker and his company commanders may have influenced the general breakdown in discipline, restraint, and control which were evident on the first day of the Son My operation. h. Attitude of Government of Vietnam (GVN) Officials

The general policy and attitude of Vietnamese officials toward the Son My area has been described

elsewhere in this report. The Army Republic of Vietnam forces were, during the post-Tet period, reluctant to conduct sustained operations in the area. This fact, coupled with GVN treatment of the area as a free- fire zone and the automatic, perfunctory clearances of GVN officials to fire ordnance into the area, were generally known by key members of the TF. It is evident that GVN officials considered Son My as long- standing VC-controlled territory and hat its inhabitants were considered as low priority and of little immediate consequence to GVN interests at that time. These general attitudes were well known by key members of the 11th Brigade and TF Barker and undoubtedly affected their feelings toward the area and its people. i. Nature of the Enemy

While the Communist forces had achieved a substantial psychological impact on the American public

during the Tet offensive of 1968, they had also taken substantial losses in men and equipment. Time to refit, recruit, and retrain their forces was of critical importance to their future staying power. To provide the requisite time, their forces were, during the post-Tet period, seeking to attain sanctuary and protection by melting back into the populace and by retreating into their base areas. In the initial phase of the stepped-up level of actions by US forces, taken to deny the communists needed time and concealment; there was a consequent and unfortunately high level of civilian casualties throughout most of the Republic of Vietnam.

The Communist forces in South Vietnam had long recognized our general reluctance to do battle with them among the civilian populace and had used that knowledge to their tactical and strategic advantage throughout the history of the war in Vietnam. Exploitation of that reluctance by Viet Cong (VC) and North Vietnamese Army (NVA) ground forces caused a distortion of the classic distinction between combatants and noncombatants. (It is important to bear in mind that the old distinctions have been distorted by Communist, not US forces). In a war replete with instances of young women bearing arms and killing US soldiers and children of VC serving as booby-trap specialists and would-be assassins, it became a life and death matter for US soldiers and their commanders to make and adhere to distinctions between combatant and noncombatant, primarily on the basis of whether the idividua1s in question were armed, were committing hostile acts, were otherwise endangering the lives of allied troops, rather than on the basis of sex or age. (Such distinctions must, of course, exclude helpless persons such as babies from the list of combatants.)

The Son My area was populated principally by VC, their sympathizers and supporters, and their respective families. It had been controlled by the VC for years and most of the men in TF Barker were aware of this fact. They were also aware that the 48th VC LF Battalion was a tough, well-disciplined guerrilla unit which had not only played a major part in the Tet offensive but reportedly had also fought

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well against TF Barker elements in two previous contacts in the Son My area. It is apparent from the testimony of these soldiers that the entire area and its population were considered as belonging to the enemy and that they have little apparent understanding of the probability that a significant part of Son My’s unarmed population were dominated by the VC because the VC represented the only continuing presence in the area.

The tactical difficulties involved in ferreting enemy forces out of populated areas, the practical difficulties involved in clearly identifying friend from foe, and a generally widespread knowledge of VC control of the Son My area, unquestionably played a major role in the events of Son My. j. Leadership

During the latter stages of this Inquiry, it became apparent that if on the day before the Son My

operation only one of the leaders at platoon, company, task force, or brigade level had foreseen and voiced an objection to the prospect of killing noncombatants or had mentioned the problem of noncombatants in their preoperational orders and instructions or if adequate restraining orders had been issued early on the following day, the Son My tragedy might have been averted altogether or have been substantially limited and the operation brought under control. Failures in leadership appear, therefore, to have had a direct bearing on the events of Son My.

COL Henderson had served with the 11th Brigade as the Deputy CO or Acting CO from the time of the brigade’s activation in Hawaii until his assumption of formal command on 15 March 1968. Perhaps more than any other single individual, he should have recognized the strengths and weaknesses of the key personnel and operating procedures within the brigade. He testified that his job as Deputy CO under BG Lipscomb was basically administrative in nature and did not allow him as much time as he would have liked to learn the various operational areas assigned to the brigade and the subordinate commanders who were subsequently to serve under him. This is not an uncommon predicament for a second-in-command. It also should have emphasized to him the necessity and importance of going over LTC Barker’s plan in detail. There is always a balance to be struck in the amount of latitude and authority to be vested in a subordinate commander when weighed against the commander’s overall responsibility for what happens or fails to happen in his unit. In COL Henderson’s case, the evidence is clear that he elected during the initial phase of his command to vest maximum latitude in Barker, and in so doing; he treated superficially an operational plan which deserved detailed examination.

The testimony available indicates that LTC Barker was considered by BG Lipscomb and by COL Henderson to be an outstanding officer. His selection to command the TF was reportedly based on their evaluation of his excellence in having performed as the Brigade S3 and executive officer. His performance as TF commander up until the time of the Son My operation appears to have been creditable in terms of reported results achieved.

It is apparent that LTC Barker was highly motivated and enthused by the prospect of coming to grips with what was believed to be the same enemy force which had previously fought against and inflicted casualties upon TF elements. His frustrations from previous failures by the TF, his decision to fire the artillery preparation on a part of My Lai (4), and the nature of his orders have been noted elsewhere in this report. In assessing their aspects of his leadership which had an influence on the events of Son My, the evidence indicates that his assumptions, plans, decisions, and orders reflected a degree of incompetence, including an inability to make the kind of distinctions required of successful commanders in the Vietnam war.

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CPT Medina, in his early 30s, was older than most company commanders in Vietnam, and, as a former noncommissioned officer, had gained broad experience in dealing with soldiers. From the experience developed, it is clear that he was almost unanimously respected by his men and by his superiors and was, in their opinion; an outstanding company commander who held the welfare of his men as one of his primary concerns. His no-nonsense approach to his mission and single-mindedness of purpose in achieving that mission caused him to be the object of respect but in some cases fear, by some of his men and by his platoon leaders. The evidence indicates that Medina was a strict authoritarian concerning most matters involving his men and exerted an extraordinary degree of influence over them. There was also testimony to indicate that he adopted a condescending and sometimes disparaging manner in dealing with his platoon leaders. The evidence indicates that his principal leadership weakness prior to Son My was not exercising firm control over the actions of his men toward Vietnamese. The evidence indicates that callousness was not a part of his attitude toward his own men, whose welfare was apparently of primary concern to him.

While most of the men of C Company respected CPT Medina, the evidence indicates that similar feelings of respect apparently did not exist toward the platoon leaders. Any assessment of the C Company platoon leaders, however, must take into account their relative inexperience and the influence exerted over them by CPT Medina. Perhaps the most revealing aspect of testimony concerning the platoon leaders is that each, with the exception of LT William Calley, was considered a “nice guy” by many of his men. The implications of this classification are substantiated by evidence which indicates that each lacked any real internal system for control and discipline of his platoon. What control and discipline did exist emanated from the company commander. It is also apparent that each platoon leader was, to an extent, fearful of his men and hesitant in trying to lead. Instead, they attempted to become “buddies” with their noncommissioned officers and men and, in more than one instance, allegedly joined with their men in immoral and illegal acts against Vietnamese prior to the Son My operation. It should also be pointed out that most of the noncommissioned officers in C Company were young and in general had no more combat experience than the men themselves. The general lack of experienced leadership for the men of the platoon was not uncommon in other Army units at that time.

CPT Michles was regarded by his men as a good officer and a scrupulous person. From the evidence developed, it is apparent that he was genuinely concerned with the welfare of his men. While it is clear that he was also mission-oriented, he was not regarded by his men as a harsh disciplinarian and was not held in the same light of awe and fear as CPT Medina. The indications are that he was a conscientious career officer who enjoyed the respect and esteem of most of his men.

The available testimony suggests that CPT Michles’ relationship with his company officers was unstrained and, while they did not regard him as unapproachable, they clearly respected his position. There is no evidence to suggest that any of the B Company platoon leaders were particularly weak or strong as combat leaders. At the time of the Son My operation, the B company platoon leaders apparently commanded a reasonable degree of respect from their men and had the fortitude to discipline them when required.

The evidence indicates that there was a high degree of competitiveness between CPT Michles and CPT Medina and a portion of this feeling was undoubtly communicated to their respective platoon leaders and men and probably played a part in the attitudes of their men toward the forthcoming operation.

Americal Division leaders, down to and including the TF level, failed to supervise properly the planning of the Son My operation. This gave rise to a loosely conceived plan with a poorly defined purpose. These failures resulted in the issuance of ambiguous, illegal, and potentially explosive orders by

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LTC Barker and CPT Medina, and possibly CPT Michles, who failed, either deliberately or unintentionally, to provide in their plans and orders for the possibility that noncombatants might be found in the objective areas. Implementation of these orders ultimately became the task of generally weak and ineffective leaders at the platoon level and below. Collectively, these factors had a pronounced impact on the results of the Son My operation. k. Permissive Attitude

The evidence developed during this Inquiry strongly indicates that a dangerously permissive attitude

toward the handling and safeguarding of Vietnamese and their property existed within elements of the 11th Brigade chain of command prior to the Son My operation. Evidence also indicates varying degrees of concern by Gen Koster, BG Lipscomb, COL Henderson, and LTC Barker concerning the subject, but in the light of the mistreatment, raping, and some indiscriminate killing of Vietnamese known to have occurred prior to Son My and in view of the events at Son My itself, it is evident that if such concern did exist, it had not been communicated effectively to the soldiers of TF Barker. There had been little in the way of positive enforcement by responsible commanders (in the form of disciplinary action) of the provisions of division and brigade directives dealing with the treatment and safeguarding of noncombatants and their property prior to Son My.

While COL Henderson was officially the brigade commander at he time of the Son My operation, the evidence indicates that BG Lipscomb, the previous brigade commander, may have contributed to the attitude of permissiveness which existed within the brigade. This assumption is warranted in that the attitudes of the 11th Brigade soldiers who characteristically mistreated Vietnamese nationals did not develop overnight nor did they come into being concurrently with the change in brigade commanders. Evidence of scattered incidents involving the mistreatment, rape, and possibly the murder of Vietnamese by 11th Brigade soldiers prior to the Son My operation indicates that a permissive attitude existed, and was not uncovered and corrected, under BG Lipscomb’s command.

The fact that both COL Henderson and LTC Barker were both relatively new in their command assignments may have contributed to some uncertainty among their subordinates as to exactly what was expected of them and their soldiers in the handling of Vietnamese noncombatants, but did not relieve either from the command responsibility for the actions of their units.

The evidence indicates that a number of C Company soldiers were involved in the illegal acts against Vietnamese prior to the Son My operation. These acts may have mirrored a permissive and calloused attitude by CPT Medina, or they may have resulted from the fact that the company was essentially a one- man show run by CPT Medina who was, regardless of his intentions, incapable of exercising single- handed control of 100-plus soldiers. The evidence is inconclusive in this regard, but suggests the latter situation. As indicated previously, the reticence and lack of leadership among the platoon leaders of C Company also contributed to the general permissiveness which existed in the company at the time of the operation.

There was no evidence developed to indicate the existence of a permissive attitude among key members of B Company. To the contrary, the evidence indicates that CPT Michles neither condoned nor tolerated mistreatment of Vietnamese by B Company soldiers prior to the Son My operation.

It is evident that the generally permissive attitude which existed in some of the units of the 11th Brigade prior to Son My was brought into sharp focus for the men of TF Barker by the orders issued on 15 March by LTC Barker, CPT Medina, and possibly CPT Michles, and significantly influenced the

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events of the following day. l. Lack of Affirmative Command and Control

A variety of factors, which became evident during the Inquiry, collectively indicate that there was a

general lack of affirmative command and control throughout the 11th Brigade, and particularly in TF Barker at the time of the Son My operation.

The evidence of previous mistreatment of Vietnamese by soldiers of the 11th Brigade and TF Barker, testimony concerning previous scattered destruction and burning of Vietnamese homes, the method in which earlier TF operations were conducted, the austere staffing of the TF and the superficial treatment of plans for the Son My operation all point to the lack of an effective system of controlling combat operations.

The evidence indicates that LTC Barker visited his companies infrequently while they were operating in the field. It is also evident that the facilities and equipment provided or made available to his interim organization were marginal at best. This was particularly true with respect to the communications facilities used in his command and control helicopter and in his tactical operations center (TOC). This equipment had been drawn from other organizations of the brigade at the time that the TF was established.

A general pattern which emerged during this Inquiry was that some Americal commanders failed to get on the ground with operating units. This was most pronounced on the day of the Son My operation when not a single commander above company level landed in the Son My area to personally communicate with the ground forces despite clear indications that unusual events, of a nature requiring command attention, were taking place on the ground. This is brought into even sharper focus by the fact that this was, on the face of it, the most successful operation ever conducted by an element of the 11th Brigade. m. Lack of Emphasis in Training

Early in the Inquiry, there was a suspicion that the manner in which the 11th Brigade was activated,

trained, prepared for overseas movement, and deployed to Vietnam might have had some impact upon the events of Son My. Investigations revealed that this was the case to a limited extent.

11th Brigade elements underwent an accelerated training program, received a substantial input of replacement personnel shortly before deploying, and eventually deployed earlier than originally had been scheduled. Shortly after arriving in Vietnam, planned makeup training was affected by another infusion of replacements (to overcome a projected rotation “hump”) and by early commitment of brigade elements to active combat operations.

As a net result of these actions, the evidence indicates that, at best, the soldiers of TF Barker had received only marginal training in several key areas prior to the Son My operation. These areas were (1) provisions of the Geneva Conventions, 2) handling and safeguarding of noncombatants, and (3) rules of engagement.

The problem of training and instruction having to do with identification of and response to “illegal” orders is addressed elsewhere in this report. The evidence indicates that training deficiencies in this area,

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together with deficiencies in those raining areas described above, played a significant part in the Son My operation.

n. Psychological Buildup

In the case of B Company, no firm conclusions can be drawn as to either the nature or effect of any

preoperational psychological buildup that may have been given to the men. CPT Michles did not personally brief his company, and there is some evidence that the content of the briefings given by the platoon leaders was not uniform throughout the company. All the men apparently were told that the area was populated entirely by “VC and VC sympathizers” and that the mission was to “clean the place out,” but there was no suggestion made of getting revenge for previous friendly casualties. Any attempt to evaluate the psychological preparation given to B Company is complicated by the fact that (a) the main elements of B Company suffered heavy casualties and had their principal mission aborted almost immediately after the combat assault, and (b) the separated 1st Platoon knew about those casualties (including the death of their former platoon leader) before entering My Khe (4). Undoubtedly, the casualties suffered early on 16 March had a psychological effect upon B Company. Those effects may have influenced, possibly in different ways and to a greater extent than preoperational factors, the subsequent actions of various elements of the company.

The men of C Company who participated in the Son My operation testified, without exception, that their actions in and around My Lai (4) were “different” from anything they had ever been involved in before and from anything that they were ever involved in afterwards. From their testimony it is clear that a large part of the difference derived from their understanding of the nature and purpose of the operation. Their understanding and the attitudes that prevailed before the operation appear to have been primarily a product of the factors previously described in this chapter. These factors were apparently brought to a sharp focus by the briefing which they received on the day before the Son My operation.

In retrospect, it is clear that in his preoperational briefing to the men of C Company, CPT Medina “painted the picture” too vividly, and exercised no discrimination and little restraint in his implementing orders. He may also have drawn some erroneous conclusions from LTC Barker’s briefing, or simply twisted certain elements of Barker’s briefing to suit his own undiscriminating purposes. CPT Medina, like his commander, issued illegal orders to burn and destroy property in the target area, failed to provide in his briefing for the possibility that noncombatants might be found in the area, and further influenced the events to follow by failing to make any distinctions in his orders concerning the treatment to be accorded armed combatants, suspected (but unarmed) sympathizers, and outright noncombatants. CPT Medina’s effectiveness in getting his men psychologically “up” for the expected fight is quite clear from the evidence presented to this Inquiry.

Up until the time of the Son My operation, the men of C Company had participated in largely unproductive operations and had suffered significant casualties from enemy mines and booby traps. During the course of those previous operations, several of them had participated in the mistreatment, rape, and possible murder of Vietnamese with no apparent retribution. They were told by their company commander that they were going to face an enemy battalion the following day in the Son My area. They were told that an artillery preparation would be placed on the target area before they arrived and that the landing zone (LZ) would probably be “hot.” They were given the impression that the only people left in the area would be the enemy and that their mission was to destroy the enemy and all his supplies. They were told that the best way to prevent the enemy from recovering weapons from the battlefield was to close with the enemy aggressively.

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They were reminded that some of them would probably become casualties in the operation and were enjoined to look out for each other. They were reminded of their past losses to enemy booby traps and their failure to get revenge for those losses. They were told that the forthcoming operation would provide the opportunity to obtain that revenge. They were not told of any restrictions of any kind that would be imposed on them in accomplishing the assigned mission. o. Summary

The factors described in this chapter are considered relevant to the purpose of this Inquiry to the

extent that they assist in understanding what happened at Son My and to a lesser extent, why it happened.

In the time available to this Inquiry, there was no attempt to analyze the factors in depth, nor to evaluate psychological aspects of what happened. This is considered a task that can be best performed by team of highly qualified research analysts with the technical talents and experience necessary to do justice to the subject.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

L441: Reading C ADP 6-22 Chapter 2: Excerpt

Author: US Army ETHICAL REASONING 2.17 To be an ethical leader requires more than merely knowing the Army Values. Leaders must be able to live by them to find moral solutions to diverse problems. Ethical reasoning must occur in everything leaders do—in planning, preparing, executing, and assessing operations. 2.18 Ethical choices may not always be obvious decisions between right and wrong. Leaders use multiple perspectives to think about ethical concerns, applying them to determine the most ethical choice. One perspective comes from a view that desirable virtues such as courage, justice, and benevolence define ethical outcomes. A second perspective comes from a set of agreed-upon values or rules, such as the Army Values or Constitutional rights. A third perspective bases the consequences of the decision on whatever produces the greatest good for the greatest number as most favorable. Leaders able to consider all perspectives applicable to a particular situation are more likely to be ethically astute. When time is available, consulting peers and seniors is often helpful. Chaplains can provide confidential advice to leaders about difficult personal and professional ethical issues to encourage moral decisions in accord with personal conscience and the Army Values. 2.19 Leaders should not intentionally issue vague or ambiguous orders or instructions to avoid responsibility or accountability. Leaders have a responsibility to research relevant orders, rules, and regulations and to demand clarification of orders that could lead to criminal misinterpretation or abuse. Ultimately, Army leaders must accept responsibility for the consequences of their actions and the subordinates who execute the leader’s orders. ETHICAL ORDERS 2.20 Making the right choice and acting when faced with an ethical question can be difficult. Sometimes the situation requires a leader to stand firm and disagree with a supervisor on ethical grounds. These occasions test one’s character and moral courage. Situations in which any Army member thinks an order is unlawful can be the most difficult. 2.21 Under typical circumstances, a leader executes a superior leader’s decision with enthusiasm. Unlawful orders are the exception: a leader has a duty to question such orders and refuse to obey them if clarification of the order’s intent fails to resolve objections. If a Soldier perceives an order is unlawful, the Soldier should fully understand the order’s details and original intent. The Soldier should seek immediate clarification from the person who issued the order before proceeding. 2.22 If the question is more complex, seek legal counsel. If an issue requires an immediate decision, as may happen in the heat of combat, make the best judgment possible based on the Army Values, personal experience, critical thinking, previous study, and prior reflection. Chances are, when a Soldier disobeys

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what may be an unlawful order, it may be the most courageous decision they make. The Soldier’s Rules codify the law of war and outline ethical and lawful conduct in operations (see AR 350-1). They distill the essence of the law of war, the Army Values, and inform ethical conduct.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

L441: Reading D The Darker Side of the Force-The Negative Influence of Cohesion

Author: Robert Rielly

The My Lai massacre is an emotional topic because it represents professional failure. Chronicled discussions do not cover the breadth and depth of what actually occurred in that small hamlet on 16 March 1968. Arguably, many factors contributed to the massacre; however, a rarely discussed primary cause is the importance of values in cohesion.

A popular misconception is that the unit involved at My Lai was some kind of rogue outfit operating outside the bounds of the rest of the US Army. Unfortunately, a catastrophe like this could occur in any unit if all the elements are present. Even Lieutenant General E.R. Peers, who headed up the inquiry into the massacre, concluded that what happened at My Lai could conceivably happen again. The unit involved at My Lai, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry, was a normal unit. According to the investigation conducted after the massacre, the remarkable thing about the company was just how typical it was.

The battalion was formed during 1966 in Hawaii and trained for nine months before deploying to combat. The soldiers had been in Vietnam for about three months when the massacre took place. The Army investigation “revealed that 87 percent of Charlie Company’s noncommissioned officers (NCOs) were high school graduates, nearly 20 percent above the Army’s norm. The figure for other ranks was 70 percent, again slightly higher than the average. In the areas of

intelligence, trainability and aptitude, Charlie Company differed little from the US Army as a whole.” The company commander, Ernest Medina, was a former NCO who had a good record and was, as Peers recalls, “a strong, effective leader who took care of his men.” Medina was known as a disciplinarian. He was respected by his men, who agreed that he was an outstanding leader. Although Medina was a strong leader, his platoon leaders were not. The inquiry concluded that like many of the other platoon leaders who were young and inexperienced, they failed to take immediate, positive corrective action to correct wrongdoings. Peers further explains: “Although contributing to the tragic events of My Lai, the lack of leadership at platoon and squad levels cannot be accepted as an excuse. Every other US forces unit in South Vietnam had to make do with inexperienced junior officers and NCOs, yet they did not engage in manifestly illegal operations.”

As a unit, Charlie Company won accolades and awards and was recognized as the best company in the battalion. Although some would argue the company had training deficiencies, they were no more serious than those in any unit in the division. Moreover, because the men had trained together nine months for combat, deployed to Vietnam and then participated together in combat, the company had become very cohesive. During January 1967, this best company in the battalion was selected, along with the best companies from other battalions, to form an ad hoc battalion called Task Force Barker.

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On the outside, Charlie Company looked like a unit any captain would be proud to command. It was well-trained, disciplined and had developed through the months of cohesive training necessary to withstand the stress and horrors of combat and retain the will to fight. But something went wrong with the unit’s cohesion—the very thing we value in combat.

A soldier assigned to Charlie Company described the situation: “When you are in an infantry company, in an isolated environment like this, the rules of that company are foremost. They are the things that really count. The laws back home do not make any difference. What people think of you does not matter. What matters is what people here and now think about what you are doing. What matters is how the people around you are going to see you. Killing a bunch of civilians in this way— babies, women, old men, people who were unarmed, helpless—was wrong. Every American would know that. And yet this company, sitting out here isolated in this one place, did not see it that way. I am sure they did not. This group of people was all that mattered. It was the whole world. What they thought was right was right. And what they thought was wrong was wrong. The definitions for things were turned around. Courage was seen as stupidity. Cowardice was cunning and wariness, and cruelty and brutality were seen sometimes as heroic. That is what it eventually turned into.”

This soldier describes the negative side of cohesion, which occurs when a cohesive unit develops values, attitudes, beliefs and norms contrary to the organization’s. This soldier’s description is enlightening for leaders. Charlie Company developed values, attitudes, beliefs and norms that conflicted with US Army and social standards. This corrupted core explains why seemingly good men could do awful things and yet not believe their actions were wrong.

When people join the military, they bring values developed throughout their lives, deep-seated preferences or judgments about worth. Milton Rokeach defines values as “an enduring belief that a specific mode of conduct or end-state of existence is personally or socially preferable to an opposite or converse mode of conduct or end-state of existence.” Values form the basis for individual beliefs that determine a person’s attitude toward another person, group or thing. Values determine attitudes as well as behaviors. Most scholars recognize that values, attitudes and beliefs can be changed under the right conditions—most commonly, a significant emotional event such as combat.

During basic training, soldiers study the Army Values so they can adopt them as their own. Following basic training, soldiers are assigned to a unit where they become members of a squad or a small group. In theory, this group becomes the soldiers’ family, and they begin to bond with others and form the cohesion necessary to persevere in combat. Central to the cohesive concept is the individual’s desire to submit to group norms, the way a unit or organization does routine business.

Group norms are based on individual attitudes and beliefs, but ultimately they are rooted in the values of the group. The values of a newly arrived individual may or may not match the group’s values. If they do not, chances are good the individual will adopt the group’s norms to be accepted as a member. Each squad or team in an organization will develop its own norms based on individual values, attitudes and beliefs. Group pressures to conform are substantial and failure to conform results in group sanction. If the group members embrace Army Values, they will conform and act appropriately. However, if the group’s values are even slightly different, there is the potential for problems. Cohesion

Cohesion is essential for an organization in combat. To withstand the horror and strain of the battlefield, a soldier must bond with other small-unit members. Research consistently shows that soldiers

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fight for the other members of their cohesive small unit. They fight to obtain and retain the respect of their peers, even to the point of sacrificing their lives. Failing one’s comrades is worse than facing death because it damages an individual’s personal honor and reputation. The small group provides security, purpose, a coping mechanism, reassurance and a sense of immortality. Soldiers want to be members of a cohesive group because it offers them the best chance for survival, and they will do whatever it takes to belong. When external dangers arise, the group cohesion increases primarily because the individual fears isolation.

Cohesion forms around a sense of teamwork, but it is more than teamwork; cohesion forms a sense of community in the minds of its members. Anthony Kellet feels that it “denotes the feelings of belonging and solidarity that occur mostly at the primary group level and result from the sustained interaction—both formal and informal—among group members on the basis of common experience, interdependence and shared values. To be truly cohesive, a small unit must have shared beliefs, goals, values and attitudes. William Darryl Henderson further explains that “The normative power of the cohesive group causes the strong personal commitment on the part of the soldier that he ought to conform to group expectations. The development of unit norms and values causes unit members to band together in their commitment to each other, the unit and its purpose.” Negative Effects of Cohesion

Soldiers recognize the value of cohesion; however, they rarely look at the possibility of negative effects. Because cohesion is intangible, it is tough to assess and measure even when it is positive. As the small-unit bond becomes strong, the group members develop norms for behavior. Norms the group develops are based on attitudes and beliefs that are rooted in their values. The group’s norms do not necessarily have to align with organizational values or what would be considered acceptable behavior. In fact, Richard Holmes explains, “there is every chance that the group norms will conflict with the aims of the organization of which it forms a part.”

In many cases, leaders assume that every soldier in the organization believes in and practices Army Values and that new recruits will embrace these values during basic training. Leaders also assume that because their soldiers’ values are correct, their beliefs, attitudes and small-unit norms will also be consistent with what the Army considers desirable and acceptable.

One of the tragic lessons from the My Lai massacre was that leaders assumed the soldiers carried the values of the community at large with them onto the battlefield. However, simply creating a cohesive group does not guarantee that members will have desirable values and norms or that they will perform as expected. John Keegan and Richard Holmes suggest that the group “may come to believe that their interests are best served by avoiding rather than seeking combat and by adopting a ‘live and let live’ policy whenever the enemy will permit it.”

Ideally, all soldiers entering the Army will internalize Army Values and accept them as their own. Likewise, the values, beliefs, attitudes and norms existing in our small units should match our organization’s accepted values, beliefs, attitudes and norms. Unfortunately, this is not always the case. US soldiers have committed brutal and criminal acts. For example, during World War II, 13 percent of a sample of infantrymen from Europe observed atrocities committed by other soldiers. Some soldiers stated they found it difficult not to kill their enemies in the heat of the moment. In addition, soldiers stated not all captured Germans made it into the prisoner-of-war handling channels and some rifle companies developed reputations for taking few prisoners. US Army Field Manual (FM) 22-100, Army Leadership, has a vignette about character and prisoners that ends with a soldier stating, “Hey, we’re from America:

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we don’t shoot our prisoners.” Very noble but, sadly, not always true.

In the introduction to one of the finest books written on battle experience, With the Old Breed, World War II veteran and noted author Paul Fussel describes a conversation between a marine sergeant and Phillip Caputo during the Vietnam War. The sergeant says, “Before you leave here, sir, you are going to learn that one of the most brutal things in the world is your average nineteen-year-old American boy.” The hard truth is that US soldiers are capable of and have participated in brutality and war crimes, and although some may argue that it is not common, the fact that it happens at all is sobering and indisputable.

Every atrocity and war crime cannot be attributed to a single individual acting alone. Many acts occur with the unit’s approval or with its unobjecting silence. Henderson further writes that the small unit’s “behavior, whether deviant or desirable from the organization’s point of view, is the result of norms formed by primary group interaction.” Thus, some small units developed norms that condoned or turned a blind eye to cruelty and brutality.

Group cohesion can produce negative effects in three ways: • It forms values, attitudes, beliefs and norms that are obviously contrary to the Army’s. • The group’s values, attitudes, beliefs and norms are close to the Army’s but not exactly what the

organization wants. • The group’s values, attitudes, beliefs and norms could change after prolonged combat or a

significant emotional event.

The norms that a small unit selects reflect how the unit will perform in combat and will determine what it considers right or wrong. In a crisis or highly stressful situation such as combat, soldiers will choose loyalty to their close friends over obligation to a higher organization. If the comrades’ values are positive or closely aligned with Army Values, there is no issue. However, if the values of that small unit are negative or not closely aligned with Army Values, there is a problem.

Group cohesion that produces negative effects does not necessarily exhibit overtly negative behavior. Group members may exhibit some Army Values or have different definitions for their values. Based on their values, they will develop group norms that may be unacceptable. For example, a small unit may value members’ survival more than mission accomplishment. Therefore, soldiers would only do what is absolutely crucial for combat survival and never go the extra mile for a greater goal. Small- unit members will only respond to what the small unit thinks is appropriate because it is the unit’s collective approval they seek. Thus, if a small unit develops apathy or group preservation as a norm, it might not perform as aggressively as other units in combat. Apathetic small units may never understand what FM 22-100 terms the “warrior ethos.” Keegan and Holmes write, “In Vietnam, some units generated strong loyalties, but far from promoting, say, aggressive patrol actions, such loyal ties often actively discourage it; the term ‘hero’ becomes one of abuse.”

Outright disobedience, however, rarely occurs because it obviously has penalties attached. Kellet states that “in modem warfare soldiers have found ways to reduce the risk implicit in their orders without inviting retribution. That is, they may comply with the letter of their instructions but not necessarily the spirit.” The small, cohesive group will perform until it satisfies its collective honor as established by group norms. When social approval is possible without great effort, it is little wonder that there is less than total commitment in attitude. Leaders cannot just assume that their small units will develop values, attitudes, beliefs and norms to the degree desired—it requires training.

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In addition to the possibility of developing norms and values inconsistent with higher organizations, group cohesion can also prevent soldiers from reporting acts that go against their personal values. Gerald Linderman reports that during World War II, “Soldiers rarely turned in members of their own units who had killed prisoners; the claims of comradeship prevailed.” To turn in a fellow member of your cohesive group is a tough decision for a soldier in combat. Michael Bilton and Kevin Sim point out that in the daily life-and-death struggle of combat, a soldier assumes risk by taking this action, for it is, difficult to “tell tales on men your life depends on.” This is especially true if the action conflicts with the group’s values and norms. Leaders generally believe that soldiers will be more loyal to the Army and the nation than to their small-unit group members.

However, this is not a sure thing. The cohesive group is the soldier’s family. It offers many things, including security and survival. When faced with a choice, the soldier will remain loyal to the small group. For a soldier to turn in another member of the cohesive small group, a personal sense of morality must outweigh the small unit’s norms. On the other hand, a member of the small group may violate the group norm by performing a brutal act or committing a war crime. The group norm may not tolerate this behavior, and despite the soldier’s attachment to the other unit members, they may report him. However, if their loyalty to each other is strong enough, they will not.

Sikh troops of the British-Indian Army are bayoneted and shot with pistols after execution by Japanese soldiers in Singapore. (Inset) A woman in Phoenix, Arizona, receives a grim souvenir from her boyfriend in New Guinea.

Cruelty and barbarism can easily become a group norm. In The Deadly Brotherhood, John C. McManus recalls that during World War II, “the constant witnessing of such inhuman, degrading sights took its inevitable toll on

men.” It is a myth that Western soldiers do not display the same ruthlessness and willingness to die as their enemies In fact, Holmes notes, “there have been times, particularly when they have been fighting a savage foe from whom no quarter could be expected that Western soldiers have displayed the same determination to fight to the bitter end.” For example, in the Pacific Theater during World War II, dehumanizing the enemy led to atrocities and incidents of cruelty. Combat on both sides sometimes degenerated into a savage world of torture, mutilation, no surrender and taking no prisoners. E.B. Sledge served as a Marine infantryman in both Peleliu and Okinawa. He writes of a fellow Marine collecting a Japanese soldier’s hand as a souvenir and of other Marines collecting Japanese teeth. Although outraged by the hand, Sledge and his fellow Marines did not object to collecting teeth. Collecting a hand had violated the group norm—collecting teeth had not. Sledge explains that “This collective attitude, Marine and Japanese, resulted in savage, ferocious fighting with no holds barred. This was not the dispassionate killing seen on other fronts in other wars. This was a brutish, primitive hatred.” Training

Leaders cannot just assume that small units will develop values, attitudes, beliefs and norms to the degree desired without training. Peers concluded, following the My Lai inquiry, that ethics and morality training was not done as well or as frequently as it should have been. When he asked other senior officers about ethics and morality training, they stated that most training time was devoted to “hands-on” training, such as vehicles, communications and weapons, and advised that little time remained to teach morality and ethics, so they were pieced in. Peers advised that ethics and morality training be given a higher priority. This situation parallels today’s training environment in which training time is scarce and

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commanders prioritize other events above values or ethics training.

Values decay over time, and to keep them alive requires constant regeneration. John W. Gardner advises that constant training to provide continuous renewal is necessary to “renew and reinterpret values that have been encrusted with hypocrisy, corroded by cynicism or simply abandoned.” Small-unit cohesion can be fractured after losing key personnel. When new leaders arrive, the norms of the small unit can change either positively or negatively to reflect the new makeup. To simply train the current leaders falls short of the necessary goal. Everyone needs high-quality, sustained training. Values are like skills; they can be instilled with repeated emphasis during training.”

Training values is a difficult feat. The nation’s service academies do a great job of initially training and subsequently sustaining values in cadets. Yet, even these institutions have had problems. James Toner gives a prime example of midshipmen at the US Naval Academy “who recently cheated on an exam and subsequently covered up for one another, contending that loyalty to one’s buddies was higher than loyalty to the honor concept at Annapolis.” These cadets were taught values in an institution serious about values training, and yet they had a twisted sense of honor. This example illustrates two key points. First, even with good values training, things can go wrong, so to conduct haphazard or infrequent training courts widespread disaster. Second, group norms can deviate from what the organization considers acceptable; loyalty to the group can transcend loyalty to the organization.

Leadership Makes a Difference

A leader’s role is key to ensuring that the small group’s values and norms are aligned with those of

the Army. Gardner suggests that “One of the tasks of leadership—at all levels—is to revitalize those shared beliefs and values and to draw on them as sources of motivation for the exertions required of the group.” When leaders fail to provide the necessary example, guidance and understanding, the small unit will develop what it thinks will best align with higher headquarters’ values and norms. Henderson empathizes the critical role of leaders, that the “primary group influence can militate against organizational goals unless appointed leaders become the dominant influence within the group.” In some units where these needs are not met, soldiers will seek fulfillment outside the unit, often in groups whose goals do not match the Army’s. Leadership is especially critical in combat, where soldiers turn to officers for leadership. If officers do not provide it, soldiers will turn to whoever will. Whether the leader’s values are congruent with the Army’s will not matter.

Henderson observes that “Although small-group cohesion can exist independently of unit leaders, unit cohesion that accepts and reinforces Army goals and purposes as the unit’s own can occur consistently when soldiers identify closely with their immediate leader.” To create a cohesive, combat- capable small unit that will act in accordance with Army Values, the leader must inculcate the desirable values so soldiers adopt them as their own and develop norms from these values. Leaders cannot ignore or take this responsibility lightly. Toner explains why: “Good ethics must be taught by good leaders.” Although both initial and sustainment training are part of the solution, just teaching is not the answer. Leaders have to set the example for values. My Lai showed that paper leadership – the rules of engagement, numerous codes of conduct and other directives all of which contained the loftiest intentions – failed to provide the necessary example. Leaders failed to ensure that soldiers at the lowest levels understood policies and expectations. Peers found that this “created a significant void in many of the soldiers’ minds as to what was expected of them.” This is a simple lesson, yet even today not everyone believes values training is important. As we sacrifice more of the human element for technology and spend more time and resources on other pursuits, we must spend the time to model, teach and enforce

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values. Recent events in Kosovo prove that negative cohesion can still develop in today’s units.

The investigation into the command climate of Company A, 3d Battalion, 504th Parachute Infantry Division revealed some obvious problems. Among the principal problems were small-unit norms that condoned beatings, threats and groping women. Although the full report has not been made public, leaders can infer that these small units developed negative cohesion despite the ongoing emphasis on values and values training.

Leaders who dismiss the importance of values in cohesion shortchange their units. Commanders can control values training and establish priorities that will produce success and preserve honor.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: Offense

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War

L441: Reading E What Makes Good People do Bad Things

Author: Melissa Dittmann

As the story goes, Dr. Jekyll uses a chemical to turn into his evil alter ego Dr. Hyde. In real life, however, no chemical may be needed: Instead, just the right dose of certain social situations can transform ordinarily good people into evildoers, as was the case with Iraqi prisoner abusers at Abu Ghraib, argued former APA president Philip G. Zimbardo, PhD, in a presidential-track program during APA's 2004 Annual Convention in Honolulu. Indeed, Zimbardo--an emeritus psychology professor at Stanford University--highlighted how this Dr. Hyde transformation occurred among U.S. soldiers at Abu Ghraib by presenting classic psychology research on situational effects on human behavior. Zimbardo, who will be an expert witness for several of the U.S. soldiers on trial, argued that situations pull people to act in ways they never thought imaginable. "That line between good and evil is permeable," Zimbardo said. "Any of us can move across it....I argue that we all have the capacity for love and evil--to be Mother Theresa, to be Hitler or Saddam Hussein. It's the situation that brings that out." Seduced into evil In fact, the classic electric shock experiment by social psychologist Stanley Milgram, PhD, showed that when given an order by someone in authority, people would deliver what they believed to be extreme levels of electrical shock to other study participants who answered questions incorrectly. Zimbardo said the experiment provides several lessons about how situations can foster evil:

• Provide people with an ideology to justify beliefs for actions • Make people take a small first step toward a harmful act with a minor, trivial action and then

gradually increase those small actions • Make those in charge seem like a "just authority" • Transform a once compassionate leader into a dictatorial figure • Provide people with vague and ever-changing rules • Relabel the situation's actors and their actions to legitimize the ideology • Provide people with social models of compliance • Allow dissent, but only if people continue to comply with orders • Make exiting the situation difficult

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Particularly notable, Zimbardo said, is that people are seduced into evil by dehumanizing and labeling others. "They semantically change their perception of victims, of the evil act, and change the relationship of the aggressor to their aggression--so 'killing' or 'hurting' becomes the same as 'helping,'" he said. For example, in a 1975 experiment by psychologist Albert Bandura, PhD, college students were told they'd work with students from another school on a group task. In one condition, they overheard an assistant calling the other students "animals" and in another condition, "nice." Bandura found students were more apt to deliver what they believed were increased levels of electrical shock to the other students if they had heard them called "animals." People's aggression can also increase when they feel anonymous--for example if they wear a uniform, hood or mask, Zimbardo said. "You minimize social responsibility," he explained. "Nobody knows who you are, so therefore you are not individually liable. There's also a group effect when all of you are masked. It provides a fear in other people because they can't see you, and you lose your humanity." For example, an experiment in 1974 by Harvard anthropologist John Watson evaluated 23 cultures to determine whether warriors who changed their appearance--such as with war paint or masks--treated their victims differently. As it turned out, 80 percent of warriors in these cultures were found to be more destructive--for example, killing, torturing or mutilating their victims--than unpainted or unmasked warriors. What's more, a person's anonymity can be induced by acting in an anonymity-conferring environment that adds to the pleasure of destruction, vandalism and the power of being in control, Zimbardo noted. "It's not just seeing people hurt, it's doing things that you have a sense that you are controlling behavior of other people in ways that you typically don't," Zimbardo said. Zimbardo noticed that in his own simulated jail experiment in 1971--the Stanford Prison Experiment--in which college students played the roles of prisoners or guards, and the guards became brutal and abusive toward prisoners after just six days, leading Zimbardo to prematurely end the experiment. The experiment showed that institutional forces and peer pressure led normal student volunteer guards to disregard the potential harm of their actions on the other student prisoners. "You don't need a motive," Zimbardo said. "All you really need is a situation that facilitates moving across that line of good and evil."

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Prison abuses The same social psychological processes--deindividualization, anonymity of place, dehumanization, role- playing and social modeling, moral disengagement and group conformity--that acted in the Stanford Prison Experiment were at play at Abu Ghraib, Zimbardo argued. So is it a few bad apples that spoil a barrel? "That's what we want to believe--that we could never be a bad apple," Zimbardo said. "We're the good ones in the barrel." But people can be influenced, regardless of their intention to resist, he said. As such, the Abu Ghraib soldiers' mental state--such as stress, fear, boredom and heat exhaustion, coupled with no supervision, no training and no accountability--may have further contributed to their "evil" actions, he noted. "I argue situational forces dominate most of us at various times in our lives," Zimbardo said, "even though we'd all like to believe we're each that singular hero who can resist those powerful external pressures, like Joe Darby, the whistle-blowing hero of the Abu Ghraib prison." Further Reading Read more about Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment at www.prisonexp.org.

• Bandura, A., Underwood, B., & Fromson, M.E. (1975). Disinhibition of aggression through diffusion of responsibility and dehumanization of victims. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 9, 253-269.

• Milgram, S. (1974). Obedience to authority: An experimental view. New York: Harper & Row. • Watson, J. (1973). Investigation into deindividuation using a cross-cultural survey technique.

Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 25, 342-345.

L442

Morally Courageous Followers

AY 2020-2021

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: The Offense

Advance Sheet for L442

Morally Courageous Followers

1. SCOPE

“When the Nazis came for the Communists, I remained silent. I was not a Communist. When they locked up the social democrats, I remained silent. I was not a social democrat. When they came for the trade unionists, I did not speak out. I was not a trade unionist. When they came for the Jews, I remained silent. I wasn’t a Jew. When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out.”

Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) was a prominent Protestant pastor who emerged as an outspoken public foe of Adolf Hitler and spent the last seven years of Nazi rule in concentration camps.

In this lesson, you examine the concepts of moral courage and followership, and how leaders develop

morally courageous followers. The case study for this lesson, “Darker Shades of Blue,” pits an Air Force squadron commander’s moral courage and followership against the unchecked “expert power” of his influential peer. To protect his subordinates, Lt Col Mark McGeehan puts his career at risk by attempting to influence his supervisor’s unrealistic assessment of the most qualified aviator in the wing—a pilot whose risk-taking behavior jeopardizes his fellow aviators. This battle of wills between two senior officers ends in tragedy, the crash of a B-52 at Fairchild AFB, and leaves us with a series of challenging issues to consider. When is taking a stand and putting your career at risk acceptable? How can a follower usurp the authority of multiple commanders over a period of years and never be held accountable for his actions? Why is it easier for leaders to display physical courage than moral courage? Does it take more courage to put your career at risk than your life? This case study also provides an opportunity to examine the relationship between followership and moral courage. What is this relationship and is moral courage required for effective followership?

As a result of this lesson you gain understanding of the relationship between moral courage and

followership, and how influencing others requires understanding sources of power and exercising sound judgment. 2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES Prerequisite Learning objective: TLO-AOC-1, “Examine how commanders rive the operations process using the framework of understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess (UVDDLA).” This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet. ELO-AOC-10.8 Action: Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization. Condition: As a field grade officer at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the

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principals of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block examination. Standard: Analysis includes- 1. Analyze the responsibilities of effective followers. 2. Analyze the power (position and personal) affects the demonstration of moral courage. 3. Analyze how commanders create a climate for subordinates to demonstrate moral courage. Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis PLO 2 Attributes Supported: a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession. b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting. c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership. d. Meet organizational-level challenges. e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners. f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies. 3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. The L442 advance sheet and readings are located in Blackboard. b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement: Read: L442RA: Thomas, Ted and Chaleff, Ira. “Moral Courage and Intelligent Disobedience,”

InterAgency Journal 8-1, Winter 2017. L442RB: Kelley, Robert, "Rethinking Followership" in The Art of Followership: How Great

Followers Create Great Leaders and Organizations, ed. Ronald E., Ira Chaleff, and Jean Lipman- Blumen. (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2008). 5-15. [9 pages] To access L442RB, use the following URL https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/carl- ebooks/detail.action?docID=331447&query=art+of+followership

L442RC: Kern, Anthony T. Darker Shades of Blue: A Case Study of Failed Leadership. MMAS diss., Command and General Staff College, 1995. Fort Leavenworth, KS: Command and General Staff College, 1995.

L442RD: US Army, ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession, (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, July 2019) Chapter 2, Paragraphs 2-12 to 2-13.

For additional readings on this topic, consider:

Olsthoorn, Peter. "Military Ethics and Virtues: Courage" An Interdisciplinary Approach for the 21st Century, (2011): 45-65. doi:13: 978-0-415-58006-9. Routledge

Miller, William Ian. “Moral Courage and Civility” in The Mystery of Courage. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000.

Chaleff, Ira. Intelligent Disobedience: Doing Right When What You’re Told to do is Wrong, Barrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc., 2015

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Chaleff, Ira. “Courageous Followers, Courageous Leaders: New Relationships for Learning and Performance-Ideas for Leaders”, December 2001, at: http://www.exe-coach.com/courageous- followers-courageous-leaders.htm (© Ira Chaleff 2004) (Accessed 21 December 2016) (Ira Chaleff has researched and written on Followership for more than 25 years and is widely recognized in this area.)

Wong, Leonard, Thomas A. Kolditz, Raymond A. Millen, and Terrence M. Potter. "Why They Fight: Combat Motivation in the Iraq War." PsycEXTRA Dataset. doi:10.1037/e426952005-001. (Study focuses on the motivation of combat forces early in the Iraq war and discusses the importance of social cohesion in units.)

Badaracco, J. L., Jr. "We Don't Need Another Hero." Harvard Business Review 79, no. 8 (September 2001).

Perlow, Leslie, and Stephanie Williams. "Is Silence Killing Your Company?" Harvard Business Review 81, no. 5 (May 2003): 52–58. Each article provides a perspective on using judgment as part of moral courage and ethical decision- making.

(2) Second Requirement: Case Study Worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the leadership

lesson of AOC area. This is a study aid. Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the case. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in the case study. The worksheet is located in Blackboard under the L400 area.

(3) Third requirement: Reflective Questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Be prepared to discuss them in class:

– Are commanders responsible for developing the moral courage of their subordinates? – How do followers influence an organization? – How do you influence others that have more power than you? – What is the role of judgment in the exercise of moral courage? – How does climate affect moral courage? How does it affect followership? – From a follower’s perspective, what is the connection between moral courage and

followership? – What would it take for you, as an organizational leader, to make a commitment toward

promoting moral courage and followership within your organization? – How willing are you to risk your career to take a moral stand as a follower?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access to:

L442 advance sheets Readings ADP 6-22 Army Leadership

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN: During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this

lesson. The instructor accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: The Offense

L442: Morally Courageous Followers

L442: Reading A Moral Courage and Intelligent Disobedience Authors: Ira Chaleff and Dr. Ted Thomas

The military needs men and women who have courage–the physical courage to go into battle, to overcome fear in the face of bodily injury or death, mental pain, and lifelong disabilities. Militaries run on physical courage. Without it, they run from a fight and surrender. Many sources quote Aristotle as saying, “Courage is the first of human qualities because it is the quality which guarantees the others.” Courage is a primary virtue, as all other virtues require it.

There is another type of courage the military needs, but it is hard to measure or even define– moral courage. The following words of Robert F. Kennedy are as salient today as they were in June of 1966 when he spoke them in Cape Town, South Africa. “Few men are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is the one essential, vital quality of those who seek to change a world which yields most painfully to change.” Bravery in battle is needed, but so is the courage to stand up for what is right and against what is immoral, unethical, or illegal.

A critical application of moral courage is knowing when and how to disobey–which can be thought of

as intelligent disobedience. This involves an ability to work within the system to maintain standards and uphold moral values. Organizational culture and operational pressures can sometimes cause the values of people to become blurred when the mission becomes more important than virtues. These can take us down the slippery slope of ends justifying means. Good people and good Soldiers can do bad things in these situations. An organizational emphasis on personal accountability for our actions, regardless of situational pressures, will support the courage needed to do what is morally and ethically right. This article will make the case that moral courage, including intelligent disobedience when warranted, should be taught and encouraged to ensure those in the follower role have the disciplined initiative to disobey orders when appropriate and to recommend alternatives that uphold professional military core values. First, we need to define the terms we are using to understand their importance. Obedience

Society and culture place a large amount of pressure on people to obey orders. It starts with children as they are taught to obey their parents and other adults such as teachers or people in uniform like policemen or firemen. Stanley Milgram, a psychologist at Yale University, conducted a classic experiment in the early 1960s on obedience to authority. Two thirds of those in the experiment followed the orders of someone who looked like an authority figure due to a lab coat and a clipboard. The experiment used predominantly males between 20 and 50 years old who were ordered to administer electrical shocks to another person. This individual was a confederate in the experiment who purposely answered questions incorrectly. The recruited subjects obeyed orders by administering shocks of up to 450 volts. These people believed and were disturbed that they may be injuring or even killing another innocent human being (who was a part of the experiment, although this was unknown to the person administering the shocks).

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People in the military have a legal obligation to obey lawful orders. Military order and discipline, as well as mission accomplishment, are built on obedience to orders. Failure to do so is punishable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice in Articles 90, 91, and 92. Article 90 makes it a crime to willfully disobey a superior commissioned officer; Article 91 makes it a crime to willfully disobey a superior noncommissioned officer or warrant officer; and Article 92 makes it a crime to disobey any lawful order. Punishment can range anywhere from loss of pay to imprisonment to loss of life in wartime.

Intelligent Disobedience

However, there is a concurrent obligation in the U.S. military to disobey orders if an order is illegal. The Uniform Code of Military Justice articles listed above apply only to lawful orders. The service member can be prosecuted for executing the illegal order. In the war criminal trials that followed World War II, Nuremberg Principle IV was established. The fact that a person acted pursuant to an order of his government or of a superior does not relieve him from responsibility under international law, provided a moral choice was in fact possible to him. Many Nazi defendants were executed or received life sentences despite their defense that they were “following orders.” In U.S. military history, First Lieutenant William Calley used that defense in his slaughter of innocent civilians at My Lai in Vietnam in 1968. He was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison (which was later remitted when President Nixon pardoned him).

Even more recently, four Soldiers in Iraq from the 101st Airborne Division claimed their commander

ordered them to “kill all military- age males” in a raid during May of 2006. They captured three Iraqis in the raid, let them loose, told them to run, and then shot them in the back. The defense of following orders did not work for them either, since the order was unlawful. They were convicted and sentenced to prison.

Intelligent disobedience requires refusing to follow orders that are either unlawful or will produce

harm. While this often takes courage to do so, failure to find and act on that courage often does more damage to a career and life than the risk that would be taken by disobeying.

Moral Courage

William Miller, in his book The Mystery of Courage, defines moral courage as “the capacity to overcome the fear of shame and humiliation in order to admit one’s mistakes, to confess a wrong, to reject evil conformity, to denounce injustice, and to defy immoral or imprudent orders.” Miller makes the case that “moral courage is lonely courage.” It risks being isolated and singled out for painful personal consequences such as ridicule, rejection, and loss of job and social standing. Given this, moral courage might seem like it would be a rare occurrence, but when it is displayed it is of real value in preventing and righting wrongs. However, knowing what is right is not enough. Acting on one’s obligations, morals and convictions is necessary for moral courage. The following examples will help illustrate moral courage, as well as illustrate the subjectivity and the difficulty in defining it.

Did the 9/11 hijackers demonstrate moral courage? The question seems outrageous to us, but it provides an extreme example to analyze. The hijackers are considered evil and cowardly by most of us in the U.S. but are considered courageous heroes and martyrs by others in the world. We find it abhorrent to call anyone who kills innocent men, women, and children courageous, and that it is misplaced to call those who commit suicide martyrs. Nevertheless, cowards do not usually willingly kill themselves and these hijackers died for a cause they apparently believed in. Therefore, objectively it is hard to label them cowards since they knowingly took actions leading to their own certain death. Yet, maybe the label is still correct. Why?

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These attackers must have had the courage of their convictions but did they have moral courage? They did not brave the disapproval of their fellow jihadists, the censure of their colleagues, or the wrath of their social group. In fact, they conformed to its prevailing thinking. They did not have moral courage since the subset of society from which they came approved of their actions and gave them praise instead of wrath. They planned and schemed as a group, so there was no loneliness involved. If courage is a morally neutral virtue and not defined by the values of the specific group, the attackers could be said to have had physical courage in order to act in the face of grave bodily harm and death, and perhaps spiritual courage to sacrifice themselves for their extreme religious beliefs, but they cannot claim moral courage; it was not needed or evidenced in their actions. Only individual resistance to the group’s destructive plan would have been an act of moral courage.

Moral Courage and Civil Disobedience The case of Edward Snowden further illustrates the difficulty in defining moral courage. Edward Snowden is considered a villain and traitor by some and a brave individual by others. Snowden was a contractor for the National Security Agency who leaked documents to the media concerning massive amounts of internet and phone surveillance by United States intelligence agencies. He committed several crimes by doing so, including communication of classified documents, stealing government property, and unauthorized disclosure of information vital to national defense. He stated, “I do not want to live in a world where everything I do and say is recorded.” Viewpoints depend on where one stands on certain issues. The question becomes, did Snowden display courage in what he did, and if so, what kind of courage? When Snowden committed his crime, he knew that the government would prosecute him on criminal charges that would potentially result in a lengthy prison sentence. In this sense, Snowden’s act was one of civil disobedience, which is defined as knowingly breaking a rule or law that is considered unjust with the intention of bringing it to the light of public scrutiny to have it remediated. This is distinct from the concept of intelligent disobedience, which is working within the framework of an existing law to resist or refuse a harmful order. Nevertheless, we can use this as another extreme example to determine if his actions could be considered courageous. To the best of our knowledge, Snowden was not working as part of a group of people trying to disclose government secrets, but acted on his own inner convictions. After he went public, there were many like-minded people who rallied around him, calling him a hero and whistleblower. Without approving of his methods, Congress even passed legislation correcting the abuses he brought to public light. However, before that, he felt very much alone and fearful of sharing what he was doing with any colleagues or even his girlfriend. In one author’s words, “he sounds like that most awkward and infuriating of creatures–a man of conscience.” In Edward Snowden’s mind, he took actions he thought were correct and did so in isolation at the expense of the disapproval of his fellows, the censure of his colleagues, the wrath of his society, and incurring the legal machinery of his government. This would meet the objective definition of moral courage. It also highlights the difficulty of an objective assessment, as many in our security apparatus view his acts as those of a traitor. It is the contention of this article, that if we can create cultures that value acts of internal attempts to correct abuse, which we are characterizing as intelligent disobedience rather than civil disobedience, we will avoid morally fraught decisions such as those made by Snowden.

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Intelligent Disobedience The Army is considered by many to be a culture of blind obedience. While this is not as true as many believe, General Mark Milley, the 39th Chief of Staff of the Army, is trying to break that paradigm. He recently described the need for intelligent disobedience when he discussed warfare in the near future. General Milley asserted that in the current asymmetric warfare of ill-defined front lines and fighting on land, sea, air, space, cyberspace, and electromagnetic spectrum, Soldiers need to disobey orders to accomplish the mission when battlefield realities have fundamentally changed and there is no ability or time to consult with superiors. This type of thinking is based on an assumption that the boss would do what the subordinate did if only the boss knew what the subordinate does. Though General Milley did not use the term directly, he captured the essence of intelligent disobedience. Knowing when and how to disobey is a higher order skill than to just obey. It requires an atmosphere of trust and empowerment, and the ability of the leader to recognize the person closest to the action may have the best picture of what needs to be done. Army doctrine uses the term mission command (ADRP 6-0) to describe this idea. Mission command includes the ideas of disciplined initiative and commander’s intent.

Disciplined initiative allows subordinates the freedom of action to quickly adapt to changes in the environment as long as they stay within the leader’s intent for the mission. Intelligent disobedience goes beyond disciplined initiative to address violations of values, asking tough and relevant questions to clarify orders, and looking beyond rationalizations and pressures to engage those giving orders. Intelligent disobedience can simply involve the professionalism to not execute an order that would clearly have negative operational consequences. It often also involves moral courage. The individual in the follower role will need moral courage both to disobey unethical, illegal, and immoral orders and to disobey orders that would inadvertently bring harm to the organization and its mission. Obedience and disobedience are terms and concepts, which are neither inherently good nor bad. However, put in a context, they can gain either positive or negative connotations. We can intelligently disobey when no moral courage is needed, as in the case of the U.S. Army’s concept of disciplined initiative where trust and empowerment are given. “Disciplined initiative is action in the absence of orders, when existing orders no longer fit the situation, or when unforeseen opportunities or threats arise. Commanders rely on subordinates to act.” Leaders expect their followers to disobey in these instances. We can be called upon to disobey when courage is clearly required to do so. A recent example shows the convergence of moral courage and intelligent disobedience. Political pressure played a large role in coercing distorted intelligence reports in the U.S. military’s Central Command. Over fifty intelligence analysts filed a complaint that their senior officials altered reports that effectively rose to the level of lying to fit a political narrative in line with President Obama’s contention that the fight against ISIS and al Qaeda in Syria was going better than it actually was. The analysts claimed they worked in a hostile climate where they could not give an accurate picture of the situation because their commanders wanted to protect their careers. Some of those who complained were even encouraged to retire. It took moral courage and an act of intelligent disobedience to go around the hierarchy to the press to report the misuse of power coercing them to lie and alter reports. Compared to Snowden, though they blew the whistle, they did so largely within the system. Their actions were vindicated by society. At the time, it took moral courage to risk losing their job and status, and it took intelligent disobedience to get results in a moral and legal manner.

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Organizational Culture Military culture is replete with such terms as “make it happen,” “that’s NCO business,” “check the block,” “what happens in theater stays in theater,” and “make your statistics.” These mental models have the potential to encourage either immoral, unethical, or illegal behavior, yet Service doctrine and values stress ethical, moral, and legal behavior. The Uniform Code of Military Justice is written to enforce even higher standards of conduct on the military than those in the civilian world. Nevertheless, codes and laws still do not keep people from breaking them. The climate and culture of organizations are key predictors of the morality and ethics of those organizations. Lord John Fletcher Moulton, an English judge from about 100 years ago, wrote on the concept of “obedience to the unenforceable.” He envisioned this idea as a domain between law and pure personal preference. He stated this middle domain is the obedience a person enforces on himself to those things which he cannot be forced to obey. It includes concepts of moral duty, social responsibility and behavior, and doing what is right when there is no one to enforce it. He stated the true greatness of a nation is the extent to which a country can trust its citizens to act in appropriate ways without being forced to do so. It requires virtuous citizens who act with civic responsibility. The culture in an organization reflects the attitude of its people in their conduct of obedience with or without force. Leaders set the standard in what they enforce, reward, punish, and how they act personally. Followers then reinforce the culture or develop a subculture counter to the espoused culture. Leonard Wong and Stephen Gerras wrote a monograph asserting that many leaders in the Army lie in order to succeed. Their premise is that the military has “created an environment where it is literally impossible to execute to standard all that is required.” Their solution to changing the culture is to recognize the Army has a problem, exercise restraint, prioritize what can be done instead of lying about what was done, and lead truthfully. This requires moral courage of the leadership to step forward, risking loss of job and status by going against the culture. If everyone follows, then moral courage is no longer needed, but if only a few are doing what is right and risking their employment, reputation, and friendships, then moral courage is most definitely needed. Since the Wong and Gerras article was written over a year ago, not much has changed in the culture. As General Patton said, “Moral courage is the most valuable and usually the most absent characteristic in men.” Of course, it is not just the military that is subject to these stresses. Pressure from superiors, as well as self-interest and greed, can create an atmosphere of compliance and doing what one is told. Scandals at Wells Fargo Bank and Volkswagen are both indicative of cultures in desperate need of intelligent disobedience and moral courage. There was no one who visibly stood up and disobeyed in the face of lying, falsifying results, and illegally earning bonuses. At Wells Fargo, their employees created over two million fake accounts, incurring various customer expenses to include interest charges and overdraft protection fees. Wells Fargo fired 5,300 employees who made up PIN numbers and email addresses to enroll their existing customers in more accounts. Volkswagen equipped 11 million of its cars with software designed to lie about emissions tests. This deception started over a decade ago when their leaders knew they could not meet United States clean air standards. In both instances there was a culture driven by pressure from above and greed which encouraged cheating and fraud by involving thousands of people. Individuals with moral courage using intelligent disobedience could have prevented these scandals and the great costs their companies ultimately paid for lack of a culture embracing these virtues. Those who are just obeying orders and conforming to the culture are just as culpable as those giving the orders. More people need to come forward to decry and stand against immoral, unethical, or illegal behavior, or just plain wrong orders that will cause avoidable failures and harm. Corporate culture has a

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tremendous influence on corporate behavior. New employees to an organization quickly determine the business norms. The organizational culture becomes the standard to which their behavior is held and whether they are retained, promoted, fired, or voluntarily leave. Thus, many employees will follow a separate set of ethical standards at work than they will at home, thereby living a form of corporate cultural ethical relativism. There are at least four ways our moral standards and values are turned off at work. First, improper behavior is relabeled as good because it appears to achieve organizational goals. Second, we distance ourselves from wrongdoing by rationalizing that we are just doing our job and performing what we were hired to do. Third, we use euphemisms to reduce the impact of what we are doing; for instance, a boss might tell an employee to use “creative accounting” to make numbers for the quarter, implying they need to lie. Fourth, we dehumanize the victims of harmful or even evil acts through derogatory terms to make them seem less human and deserving of poor treatment. All four of these instances are seen in both Volkswagen and Wells Fargo, as well as in many other crises. Oftentimes it just takes one person to take a stand and bring the voice of reason and light into a dark room. Responsibility of Leaders and Followers to Change Culture It is the responsibility of leadership to find and encourage people who are willing to take action and disobey when needed. President John Adams made the statement, “It is not true, in fact that any people ever existed who loved the public better than themselves, their private friends, neighbors…” If that is the case, then where does the moral courage arise when one’s reputation, position, or influence is at stake? President John F. Kennedy made the case that love for self is at the root of one’s need to maintain respect for self over popularity with others; the desire to maintain one’s honor and integrity is more important than job or position; conscience and personal standards of ethics become stronger than public disapproval; and the conviction that the justification of the course chosen will then overcome the fear of reprisal. Love of self, not in a narcissistic sense but in a sense of being true to one’s values, is then at the root of moral courage and intelligent disobedience. Organizations that punish whistleblowers and others who attempt to do the right thing will maintain a culture where lying, cheating, and dishonesty are encouraged in the unwritten culture, outside of the corporate creed or posted values. Cultures that focus on short-term gain and stifle dissent will tend to damage long term growth and success. Organizational values are put into place to encourage honorable long- term behavior. Policies that reward results, no matter how they are achieved, are ones which send a double message–we want employees to be honorable, but will look the other way if they bend the rules to get the results we want. Leadership starts at the top and leaders who stress ends or results over means or methods will breed dishonesty and reap the results of a culture which says one thing and does another. Leaders have a moral obligation to lead ethically, and followers have a moral obligation to inform, and even confront their boss when ethical standards are ignored or when truth needs to be told. General Eric Shinseki, the 34th Chief of Staff of the Army, told Congress that it would take twice the number of troops in Iraq to win the peace. He was marginalized and vilified with the result of silencing other military critics precisely at the time when critical judgment was most needed. Conclusion It takes moral courage and intelligent disobedience on the part of followers to know when not to obey and even to know when to go outside of the hierarchy and report any malfeasance and wrongdoing. It may cost a job, reputation, or other adverse consequence, but it is the right thing to do. The historic

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virtues of courage and obedience now require additional virtues of moral courage and intelligent disobedience with the capacity to disobey and innovate when morality or rapidly changing field conditions require doing so. Moral courage and intelligent disobedience are concepts that need to be taught in every organization.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: The Offense

L442: Morally Courageous Followers

L442: Reading B Rethinking Followership Author: Robert Kelley

Read Kelley, Robert, "Rethinking Followership" in The Art of Followership: How Great Followers Create

Great Leaders and Organizations, ed. Ronald E., Ira Chaleff, and Jean Lipman-Blumen. (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2008). 5-15. [9 pages]

To access the reading, use this URL https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/carl- ebooks/detail.action?docID=331447&query=art+of+followership

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L442RC-386

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: The Offense

L442: Morally Courageous Followers

L442 Reading C A Case Study of Failed Leadership: “Darker Shades of Blue”

Author: Anthony Kern Author’s Preface

When leadership fails and a command climate breaks down, tragic things can happen. This is the story of failed leadership and a command climate which had degenerated into an unhealthy state of apathy and non-compliance—a state which contributed to the tragic crash of a B-52 at Fairchild Air Force Base, Washington, on the 24th of June, 1994, killing all aboard.

I have three purposes with this case study. First, I hope to integrate the various elements of the story

into a historically accurate and readable case study for all interested parties, to provide a clearer picture of what actually occurred at Fairchild Air Force Base in the years and months leading up to the tragedy. Second, I wish to analyze leadership and the command climate at the wing, operations group, and squadron levels. This analysis will identify possible errors and provide lessons learned, for use in academic environments. Finally, I wish to show the positive side of this episode, for there were many who did the right thing, and acted in a timely and proactive manner. Their actions might well have averted the disaster in a more rational command climate. Their story should be told, too.

All testimony contained in this report is taken from the AFR 110-14 Aircraft Accident Investigation

Board transcripts, obtained through the Freedom of Information Act, or through personal interviews conducted by the author. I analyzed transcripts from 49 individual testimonies, and conducted 11 personal interviews. I wish to make it perfectly clear that no data was taken from the Air Force Safety Mishap Investigation, so the issue of privilege was not a factor in preparing this report. In fact, I intentionally did not read or receive a briefing on the results of the safety board for the express purpose of avoiding even the appearance of a conflict.

Placing blame on individuals is neither my intention nor my purpose. However, my interpretation of

events found potentially significant errors in leadership, disregard for regulations, and breaches of air discipline at multiple levels. As an officer and aviator, I found many of these events personally and professionally appalling. Occasionally, my interpretation of events reflects this mood. Although I have attempted to avoid bias, I make no apologies for my discoveries. Any errors of omission or commission are strictly those of the author. I write this as my contribution to promoting the Air Force values of integrity, fairness, discipline, and teamwork—all found to be tragically lacking in this example.

Format

Because it is envisioned that this case study may be used in academic settings, the format includes certain features that will lend themselves to effective instruction. Key concepts and terms appear in boldface, and are discussed in summary at the end of the monograph. Additionally, hypothetical questions are posed to spur thought and facilitate discussion. The companion “Instructor Guide” is designed for use to a generic Air Force audience and may be modified in any manner to suit effective instruction.

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I have documented this case study through the extensive use of informational endnotes and traditional citation endnotes. However, to preclude breaking up the narrative with endless citations (I could have literally footnoted almost every line of the monograph), I have often placed a single citation at the end of a group of testimony or statements which came from the same source in an effort to improve on the readability of the document. I beg the academic purists’ indulgence in this matter.

As a final note, I have copyrighted this case study not to inhibit its use or dispersion among military

personnel but to prevent portions of the study being quoted out of context to cast negative light on the Air Force or its personnel. This foreword provides blanket approval for military personnel to duplicate this case study in total (cover to cover). I must emphasize again that I do not wish individual segments to be isolated and taken out of context.

Prologue

“What’s the deal with this guy?” Captain Bill Kramer asked, indicating a car conspicuously parked in the center of the red-curbed “No Parking” zone adjacent to the wing headquarters building. It was a short walk from the HQ building, commonly referred to as The White House, to the parking lot where they had left their own vehicles while attending the briefing on the upcoming air show. As they passed the illegally-parked car and then the various “reserved” spaces for the wing and operations group commanders, Lt. Col. Winslow turned to Capt. Kramer, and replied, “That’s Bud’s car. He always parks there.” After a few more steps the Captain inquired, “How does he get away with that?” The Lieutenant Colonel reflected for a moment and responded, “I don’t know—he just does.”

SECTION ONE: INTRODUCTION

There are no bad regiments, only bad colonels.

- Napoleon Failed leadership can have tragic consequences. In the words of Major General (Retired) Perry Smith,

a career Air Force aviator and former commandant of the National War College, “Leaders make a difference, and large and complex organizations (like an Air Force Wing) make special demands on the men and women who run them.” This is the story of a group of leaders who did not meet all the demands required to establish a healthy command climate, and when confronted with evidence of regulatory deviations and poor airmanship, did not take appropriate disciplinary actions. There were several manifestations of these failings. Only the most tragic and dramatic is addressed here—the crash of Czar 52. An examination and analysis of the command climate which existed at Fairchild AFB in the three years preceding the crash illustrates several examples of failed leadership relating to a series of breaches of air discipline on the part of a senior wing aviator, Lt Col “Bud” Holland, the pilot in command of Czar 52.

On the 24th of June 1994, Czar 52, a B-52H assigned to the 325th Bomb Squadron, 92d Bomb Wing,

Fairchild Air Force Base, WA, launched at approximate 1358 hours Pacific Daylight Time (PDT), to practice maneuvers for an upcoming air show. The aircrew had planned and briefed a profile, through the Wing Commander level, that grossly exceeded aircraft and regulatory limitations. Upon preparing to land at the end of the practice, the crew was required to execute a “go-around” or missed approach because of another aircraft on the runway. At mid-field, Czar 52 began a tight 360-degree left turn around the control tower at only 250 feet altitude above ground level (AGL).

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Approximately three quarters of the way through the turn, the aircraft banked past 90 degrees, stalled, clipped a power line with the left wing and crashed. Impact occurred at approximately 1416 hours PDT. There were no survivors out of a crew of four field grade officers.

Killed in the crash were Lt. Col. Arthur “Bud” Holland, the Chief of the 92d Bomb Wing

Standardization and Evaluation branch. Lt. Col. Holland, an instructor pilot, was designated as the aircraft commander and was undoubtedly flying the aircraft at the time of the accident. The copilot was Lt. Col. Mark McGeehan, also an instructor pilot and the 325th Bomb Squadron (BMS) Commander. There is a great deal of evidence that suggests considerable animosity existed between the two pilots who were at the controls of Czar 52.

This was a result of Lt. Col. McGeehan’s unsuccessful efforts to have Bud Holland “grounded” for

what he perceived as numerous and flagrant violations of air discipline while flying with 325th BMS aircrews. Colonel Robert Wolff was the Vice Wing Commander and was added to the flying schedule as a safety observer by Col. William Brooks, the Wing Commander, on the morning of the mishap. This was to be Col. Wolff’s “fini flight,” an Air Force tradition where an aviator is hosed down following his last flight in an aircraft. Upon landing, Col. Wolff was to be met on the flight line by his wife and friends for a champagne toast to a successful flying career. The radar navigator position was filled by Lt. Col. Ken Huston, the 325th BMS Operations Officer.

While all aircraft accidents that result in loss of life are tragic, those that could have been prevented

are especially so. The crash of Czar 52 was primarily the result of actions taken by a singularly outstanding “stick and rudder pilot,” but one who, ironically, practiced incredibly poor airmanship. The distinction between these two similar sounding roles will be made clear as we progress in this analysis. Of equal or greater significance, was the fact that supervision and leadership facilitated the accident through failed policies of selective enforcement of regulations, as well as failing to heed the desperate warning signals raised by peers and subordinates over a period of three years prior to the accident. At the time of the accident, there was considerable evidence of Lt Col Holland’s poor airmanship spanning a period of over three years.

Significance of the Case Study

The Fairchild example is worth our further analysis and contemplation, not because it was a unique aberration from what occurs in other military organizations, but rather because it is a compilation of tendencies that are seen throughout the spectrum of our operations. Many aviators report that rules and regulations are “bent” on occasion, and some individuals seem to be “Teflon coated” because their mistakes are ignored or overlooked by their supervisors. Most honest flyers will readily admit to operating under different sets of rules depending on the nature of the mission they are about to fly. For example, standard training missions are treated differently than evaluations. Likewise, higher headquarters-directed missions are treated differently than inspections, or air show demonstrations. This often leads to a confusing mental state for young or inexperienced flyers, who see ever-increasing “shades of gray” creeping into their decision-making process. This case study illustrates examples of such missions, and of aviators who felt that the rules were different for them.

Methodology

This monograph takes a case-study approach to identify positive and negative aspects of leadership. This study uses no formal definition of leadership, although there are many to choose from. This is not an oversight, but rather by design, to allow each reader the opportunity to apply his or her own notions of

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leadership to the case study. Leadership assessment will use criterion taken from several sources, chosen for their relevance and practicality, including Major General Perry Smith’s Taking Charge: A Practical Guide for Leaders, The Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun, by William Roberts, Follow Me: The Human Element of Leadership, Follow Me II, by Major General (Retired) Aubrey S. Newman, and J. K. Van Fleet’s The 22 Biggest Mistakes Managers Make. In addition, the author selected several points from a lecture given by Lieutenant General (Retired) Calvin Waller on the subject of Ethical Leadership. From these sources, the author compiled a list of questions with which to assess the leadership behaviors. They follow:

Did the leader have all the facts necessary to make an informed decision? For example, did he know and understand the applicable guiding regulations and directives? Were the leader’s actions and words congruent? Did he talk the talk and walk the walk? Did the leader act in an ethical manner? Would his actions pass the “newspaper test?” Did the leader consider the implications of his actions on subordinates? Did the leader’s actions promote a sound command climate? Did he permit and encourage the free flow of information? Did he require that deviations from standards be reported? Did the leader enforce established standards? Was the leader able to effectively discipline? Was he fair and decisive? Senior leadership actions (or lack thereof) will be addressed using a chronological approach and the

Leader—Follower—Situation framework outlined by Hughes, Ginnett, and Curphy in Leadership: Enhancing the Lessons of Experience, a textbook used at the United States Air Force Academy.

Key Concepts: Airmanship, Rogue Aviators, Leadership, and the Culture of Compliance

At a gut level, most aviators can determine reasonable from unreasonable courses of action,

regardless of the nature of the mission. This quality is referred to as judgment or airmanship. From the beginning of an aviator’s training, he or she is taught that “flexibility is the key to airpower” and is given considerable latitude in employing methods for accomplishing mission objectives. This is one of the major strengths of airpower and should not be changed. But there are also those aviators, usually of high experience, skill, and confidence, who see this built-in flexibility as a chaotic environment which may be manipulated for their own ends—often with tragic results. These rogue aviators are usually popular and respected, possess considerable social skills, and have learned what rules they can break, when, and with whom. They are usually perceived much differently by superiors than by peers or subordinates. This level of sophistication makes the direct oversight role of the supervisor more difficult and the role of effective command climate more important. What the leader may not recognize as an individual must be identified for him by the organization. Further, upon this recognition, the leader must act.

Failure to act after the organization has fulfilled its role in identifying a problem leads to a deterioration of faith in the system by subordinates, who now feel that their input is of little value. A culture of compliance must be inculcated and constantly nurtured to prevent the downward spiral into disaster, such as occurred at Fairchild Air Force Base in June of 1994.

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The culture of compliance was certainly not in place at Fairchild AFB in the three years preceding the crash of Czar 52. In this case study, signs of trouble appeared early and often. A pattern of negative activity could be found in complaints from other crewmembers, maintenance problems from over- stressing or exceeding aircraft limitations, and stories of Lt. Col. Holland’s grand accomplishments and plans that circulated throughout the crew force. After reviewing the history contained in the testimonies, one suspects that an energetic historian could find earlier signs of Lt. Col. Holland’s departure from the aviators’ “straight and narrow” path of regulatory compliance, but for our purposes we will limit the analysis to the period between 1991 and June of 1994.

By the summer of 1994, the entire Fairchild culture was caught up in the activities of a single B-52

pilot. Red flags of warning were abundant—and yet those who could act did not do so, in spite of recommendations to ground Holland. As one B-52 crewmember said about the accident, “You could see it, hear it, feel it, and smell it coming. We were all just trying to be somewhere else when it happened.”

SECTION TWO: THE PLAYERS

There were many individuals involved with this story. This section introduces the reader to Lt. Col.

Holland and the command staff at Fairchild AFB during the period of this analysis. The remainder of the personnel will be discussed as they fit into the narrative.

Lt Col Bud Holland

Lt. Col. Arthur “Bud” Holland was the Chief of the 92d Bombardment Wing Standardization and Evaluation Section at Fairchild Air Force Base. This position made him responsible for the knowledge and enforcement of academic and in-flight standards for the wing’s flying operations. By nearly any measuring stick, Bud Holland was a gifted stick-and-rudder pilot. With more than 5,200 hours of flying time and a perfect 31-0 record on check rides, Lt. Col. Holland had flown the B-52G and H Models since the beginning of his flying career in March of 1971. He was regarded by many as an outstanding pilot, perhaps the best in the entire B-52 fleet. He was an experienced instructor pilot and had served with the Strategic Air Command’s lst Combat Evaluation Group (CEVG), considered by many aviators to be the “top of the pyramid.” But between 1991 and June of 1994, a pattern of poor airmanship began to surface. Perhaps his reputation as a gifted pilot influenced the command staff, who allowed this pattern of behavior to continue. The following were typical comments from Lt. Col. Holland’s superiors:

“Bud is as good as a B-52 aviator as I have seen.” “Bud was ... very at ease in the airplane ... a situational awareness type of guy… among the most

knowledgeable guys I’ve flown with in the B-52.” “Bud was probably the best B-52 pilot that I know in the wing and probably one of the best, if not the

best, within the command. He also has a lot of experience in the CEVG which was the Command Stan Eval and he was very well aware of the regulations and the capabilities of the airplane (emphasis added).”

A far different perspective on Lt Col Holland’s flying is seen in statements by more junior

crewmembers, which were required to fly with him on a regular basis. “There was already some talk of maybe trying some other ridiculous maneuvers—his lifetime goal

was to roll the B-52.”

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“I was thinking that he was going to try something again, ridiculous maybe, at this air show and possibly kill thousands of people”

“I’m not going to fly with him, I think he’s dangerous. He’s going to kill somebody someday and it’s

not going to be me.” “(Lt.) Col. Holland made a joke out of it when I said I would not fly with him. He came to me

repeatedly after that and said ‘Hey, we’re going flying Mikie, you want to come with us?’ And every time I would just smile and say, ‘No. I’m not going to fly with you.”

“Lt. Col. Holland broke the regulations or exceeded the limits ... virtually every time he flew.” The reasons for these conflicting views may never be entirely known, but they hint at a sophisticated

approach to breaking the rules that became a pattern in Lt. Col. Holland’s flying activities. Additionally, some light can be shed on the issue by looking at the rapid and frequent turnover of the 92d Bomb Wing senior staff.

The Shifting Command Structure

The 92d Bomb Wing experienced numerous changes to its wing and squadron leadership during the period from 1991 to 1994. The changes included four wing commanders, three vice wing commanders, three deputy commanders for operations/operations group commanders, three assistant deputy commanders for operations, and five squadron commanders at the 325th BMS. The timeline shows leadership changes at the 92d Bomb Wing from mid-1990 through mid-1994. Below the timeline, the eight significant events to be analyzed are listed. As the discussion proceeds, the interaction between incoming and outgoing members of the staff will be addressed.

SECTION THREE: THE EVENTS

Each event leading up to the crash of Czar 52 on 24 June 1994 provides insights on leadership

performance. We will analyze each event by providing a synopsis of what occurred, as determined from eyewitness testimony. Secondly, we will look at the action of the followers, which were typically (but not always) B-52 air crewmembers. Finally, we will conclude the analysis of the event with a look at the leader’s actions. This framework, or model for analysis, is suggested by leading researchers for use in the case-study approach. It is important to understand that a historical case study cannot provide definitive guidance for other situations. All situations are unique and must be defined in terms of their own circumstances. It is hoped, however, that this discussion will provide some general lessons that may carry over into other environments.

Situation One: Fairchild AFB Air Show - 19 May 1991

Lt. Col. Holland was the pilot and aircraft commander for the B-52 exhibition in the 1991 Fairchild AFB air show. During this exhibition, Lt. Col. Holland violated several regulations and tech order (T.O. 1B-52G-1-11, a.k.a. Dash 11) limits of the B-52, by (1) exceeding bank and pitch limits, and (2) flying directly over the air show crowd in violation of Federal Aviation Regulation (FAR) Part 91. In addition, a review of a videotape of the maneuvers leaves the distinct impression that the aircraft may have violated FAR altitude restrictions as well.

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The Followers Many of the crewmembers who were at Fairchild for the 1991 air show were unavailable for

interview, but it appears as if there was no large public or private outcry as a result of the 1991 B-52 exhibition. However, some aircrew members had already begun to lose faith in the system. One B-52 pilot, when asked why more crewmembers didn’t speak up about the violations, said, “The entire wing staff sat by and watched him do it (violate regulations) in the ’91 air show. What was the sense in saying anything? They had already given him a license to steal (emphasis added).”

The Leaders

There is no evidence to indicate that commanders at any level took any action as a result of Lt. Col.

Holland’s flight activities. There is no indication that either the wing commander (Col. Arne Weinman) or the deputy commander for operations (Col Julich) was aware that the profile flown was in violation of existing MAJCOM regulations or FARS. However, there can be little doubt that they were both aware that the profile violated the Dash 11 T. O. Both men were experienced pilots and were undoubtedly aware of the bank and pitch limitations of the B-52 in the traffic pattern environment, which were grossly exceeded as they personally observed the flyover.

Analysis

The Fairchild leadership failed in two major areas. The first was allowing a command climate in

which such a blatant violation of air discipline could be planned, briefed, and carried out without interference. The fact that Lt. Col. Holland planned and briefed a profile that did not meet established regulatory and Tech Order guidelines suggests a complacent command climate. J. K. Van Fleet, in The 22 Biggest Mistakes Managers Make, would see this as “a failure to make sure that the job is understood, supervised, and accomplished.” One could argue that this level of oversight was unnecessary, since Lt. Col. Holland, as the Chief of wing Stan-Eval, was a senior officer with a great deal of experience. If this argument is accepted, then the leadership failed to act decisively after the violations occurred. William Roberts, in Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun, would see this failure to act as a lost teaching opportunity. “Chieftains must teach their Huns what is expected of them. Otherwise, Huns will probably do something unexpected of them.” Simply stated, the wing commander and DO did not know certain things they should have known (like command regulations on air shows) and did not enforce standards on violations of regulations that they clearly understood. This would not be the only lost teaching opportunity.

Interestingly, the wing commander had a reputation for demanding strict adherence to air discipline.

While acting as the commander of a provisional bomb wing at Andersen AFB, Guam, in GIANT WARRIOR 1990, Col. Weinman had been very proactive to prevent low-altitude violations during airfield attack portions of the exercise. After two days of observing aggressive simulated airfield attacks at Andersen, he remarked, “If we keep trying to outdo each other every day, there is only one way this is going to endwith somebody getting killed. The next guy that busts an altitude will talk to me personally and explain why I shouldn’t ground him and send him home.” The author could find no explanation for the apparent disconnect between what Col. Weinman demanded in the provisional wing and what he allowed to occur at his own air show.

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Situation Two: 325th BMS Change of Command “Fly Over” - 12 July 1991

Lt. Col. Holland was the aircraft commander and pilot for a “fly over” for a 325th BMS Change of Command ceremony. During the “practice” and actual fly over, Lt. Col. Holland accomplished passes that were estimated to be “as low as 100 to 200 feet.” Additionally, Lt. Col. Holland flew steep-bank turns (greater than 45 degrees) and extremely high-pitch angles, in violation of the Dash 11 Tech Order, as well as a “wingover”—a maneuver where the pilot rolls the aircraft onto its side and allows the nose of the aircraft to fall “through the horizon” to regain airspeed. The Dash 11 recommends against wingover type maneuvers because the sideslip may cause damage to the aircraft. The Followers

Because most of the 325th BMS personnel were standing at attention in ranks for the Change of

Command ceremony, they did not personally see the violations as they occurred. Most had to rely on descriptions from family and friends. The followers were acutely aware, however, that the senior staff had a ringside seat, and therefore may not have felt the need to report or complain about a situation that their leaders had witnessed directly.

The Leaders

This time the leadership was forced to take action. The ADO (Col Capotosti) went to the DO (Col

Julich) and remarked “We can’t have that, we can’t tolerate things like that, we need to take action for two reasons—it’s unsafe and we have a perception problem with the young aircrews.” Evidence indicates that Lt. Col. Holland may have been debriefed and possibly verbally reprimanded by either (or both) the DO and wing commander. However, Lt. Col. Harper, the outgoing Bomb Squadron commander stated, “No overt punishment that I know of, ever occurred from that (the Change of Command flyover).”

Analysis

Failures in oversight, an ineffective command climate, and a lack of continuity between words and

disciplinary actions earmarked the leadership response to this situation. As in the previous situation, the flyover plan was developed, briefed, and executed without intervention. The flyover for a change of command required approval by the USAF Vice Chief of Staff. No such approval was requested or granted. Although the senior staff was spurred to action by the magnitude of the violations, the response appeared to be little more than a slap on the wrist, a point certainly not missed by other flyers in the wing.

Situation Three: Fairchild Airshow - 17 May 1992

Lt. Col. Holland flew the B-52 exhibition at the Fairchild Air Show. The profile flown included several low-altitude steep turns in excess of 45 degrees of bank, and a high-speed pass down the runway. At the completion of the high-speed pass, Lt. Col. Holland accomplished a high-pitch angle climb, estimated at more than 60 degrees nose high. At the top of the climb, the B-52 leveled off using a wingover maneuver.

The Followers

Once again, perhaps because the senior staff were eyewitnesses to the violations, the junior

crewmembers kept their opinions on the flyby to themselves. A B-52 pilot remarked, “I was amazed that

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they (the senior staff) let him keep doing that. Getting away with it once you could understand, you know—forgiveness is easier to get than permission. But this was the third time in less than a year.”

The Leaders

The wing commander was Col. Michael G. Ruotsala and the Deputy Commander for Operations

(DO) was Col Julich. The DO was TDY during the air show planning sessions from January to April 1992, and was to leave for another assignment within a month after the air show. The Assistant Deputy Commander for Operations (ADO), Col. Capotosti, did not take part in any of the air show planning due to a family emergency. As a result, the normal command structure was not in place for the planning phase of the air show. The ADO, Col. Capotosti, was to move up to DO a week after the air show. He was upset by the lack of Lt. Col. Holland’s air discipline and told his wife “This will never happen again. In seven days, I’ll be the DO. Lt. Col. Holland will never fly another air show as long as I am the DO.” After he took over as DO, Col. Capotosti “took Holland in and told him to his face, behind closed doors, ‘If you go out and do a violation and I become aware of it, I will ground you permanently.’” Although Col. Capotosti began to keep a folder on flyover and air show regulations, there was no documentation of the reprimand or counseling given to Lt Col Holland in any form.

Analysis

A lack of attention to detail, failure to adequately discipline, and a failure to document counseling,

were the primary leadership failures at this juncture. Once again, the required waivers were not obtained for the B-52 demonstration. The wing commander stated “I guess I assumed that it had been approved because there are a lot of other flyovers, or flying events ... and it was all kind of bunched up into one approval for the event.” This was an incorrect assumption. The outgoing DO took no disciplinary action, perhaps feeling that the new DO would handle the situation. The incoming DO’s statement that “this will never happen again” was soon to be qualified with “as long as I’m the DO.” Perhaps more significant was the fact that the counseling sessions which apparently occurred after the last incident (Change of Command flyover, 12 July 91), were apparently not passed on to the new DO. If there had been any implied or stated threats to Lt. Col. Holland after the last event, such as “If you do this again, you are grounded,” they were not passed along. This left the new DO at “step one” in the disciplinary process. By this time, the credibility of the senior staff had been severely damaged, and the DO’s verbal reprimand most likely sounded hollow to Lt. Col. Holland, who had been verbally reprimanded by the wing commander for similar violations the previous July. Apparently, the senior staff at the 92d Bomb Wing was unwilling to take preventative disciplinary action, even after three public displays of intentional and blatant deviations from regulations and Technical Orders. Further deterioration of airmanship should not have come as a surprise. Situation Four: Global Power Mission - 14–15 April 1993

Lt. Col. Holland was the mission commander of a two-ship GLOBAL POWER mission to the bombing range in the Medina de Farallons, a small island chain off the coast of Guam in the Pacific Ocean. While in command of this mission, Lt. Col. Holland flew a close visual formation with another B- 52 in order to take close up pictures. This type of maneuver was prohibited by Air Combat Command (ACC) regulations. Later in the mission, Lt. Col. Holland permitted a member of his crew to leave the main crew compartment and work his way back to the bomb bay to take a video of live munitions being released from the aircraft. This was also in violation of current regulations.

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The Followers The members of the crews on this GLOBAL POWER mission participated in the unauthorized

activities that took place. When questioned as to why they did this, several crewmembers testified that Lt. Col. Holland told them that the wing commander, Brigadier General Richards, had instructed him to do “whatever you need to do, to get good pictures.” The pictures and video which resulted were clear and unequivocal evidence that regulations had been broken.

The Leaders

After the mission, the 325th BMS commander, Lt. Col. Bullock, became aware of the video. One

crewmember testified that the squadron commander attempted to coerce him into taking a job as the wing scheduler by using the videotape as “blackmail.” The crewmember was so upset with this development that he went to the base Judge Advocate General (JAG) to file a complaint, but was told “he could not win.” Lt. Col. Bullock denies these events took place and states that “no one told him specifically” that illegal events had taken place on the flight. The same crewmember later showed the video to the Deputy Operations Group Commander (ADO), Lt. Col. Harper, who advised him, “I would not show any of this” relating to certain sequences of the video tape which he (Lt. Col. Harper) felt were in violation of regulations.

When the DO was made aware of the presence of the potentially incriminating video, he allegedly responded “Okay, I don’t want to know anything about that video—I don’t care.” The entire episode began with Lt. Col. Holland’s impression that he was given “some orders (presumably from the wing commander) to basically free-style to get good photographs and video ... to make the presentation (of the wing’s accomplishments) more spectacular.”

Analysis

For the first time, the wing leadership was confronted with “hard copy” evidence of wrong-doing on

the part of Lt. Col. Holland. Yet there was apparently no attempt at any level to interview the crewmembers or to reprimand the guilty parties. If the story of blackmail is true, the actions of the squadron commander were dearly unethical and possibly illegal. If they were not true, he still did not enforce existing standards and regulations. The ADO, by his own admission, was aware that illegal activities had taken place during the flight. He claims to have advised the DO of the problem, which the DO denies. In either case, no disciplinary action was taken as a result of this episode. If the DO actually stated “I don’t want to know anything about that video—I don’t care”, he was clearly complacent and failed in his leadership role by not enforcing standards, as well as inhibiting communications. The wing commander may not have been involved at all in this case, as he denies that he ever told Lt. Col. Holland to “do what it takes to get good pictures.” Once again there was no disciplinary action taken or any documentation of counseling.

Perhaps the most disturbing part of this situation is that it shows at least three examples of military

officers telling lies, an unpardonable breach of integrity. Either the blackmail incident occurred or it did not, either the ADO informed the DO of the problem or he did not, and either the wing commander told Lt Col Holland to “do what it takes” or he did not. It is unlikely that the individuals involved would have forgotten or misinterpreted these events, making it highly likely that several officers lied while testifying to the investigating authority. Integrity—the cornerstone of officership—was clearly lacking at, or within, all three levels of command.

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Situation Five: Fairchild Air Show - 8 August 1993

Lt. Col. Holland flew the B-52 exhibition for the 1993 Fairchild air show. The profile included steep turns of greater than 45 degrees of bank, low-altitude passes, and a high-pitch maneuver which one crewmember estimate to be 80 degrees nose-high—ten degrees shy of completely vertical. Each of these three maneuvers exceeded technical order guidance. As was the case in previous air shows, Air Combat Command approval was required, but was neither requested nor granted.

The Followers

By now, the crewmembers of the 325th BMS had grown accustomed to Lt. Col. Holland’s air-show

routine. But a more insidious effect of his ability to consistently break the rules with apparent impunity was manifested in younger, less-skilled crewmembers. In one example, Captain Nolan Elliot, a B-52 Aircraft Commander who had seen several of Lt. Col. Holland’s performances, attempted to copy the “pitch-up” maneuver at an air show in Camloops, Canada—with near-disastrous results. The navigator on this flight said “we got down to seventy knots and ... felt buffeting” during the recovery from the pitch-up. At seventy knots, the B-52 is in an aerodynamically stalled condition and is no longer flying. Only good fortune or divine intervention prevented a catastrophic occurrence in front of the Canadian audience. A second example occurred at Roswell, New Mexico, when a new Aircraft Commander was administratively grounded for accomplishing a maneuver he had seen Bud Holland do at an air show. “It was a flap-down, turning maneuver in excess of 60 degrees of bank, close to the ground.” His former instructor said of the event “I was appalled to hear that somebody I otherwise respected would attempt that. The site commander was also appalled, and sat the man down and administered corrective training.” The bad example set by Lt. Col. Holland had begun to be emulated by junior and impressionable officers, and had resulted in one near-disaster and an administrative action against a junior officer. This was precisely what Col. Capotosti had feared when he warned the DO about Holland’s influence on younger crewmembers in July of 1991.

The Leaders

There was no disciplinary action taken at any level of command as a result of the 1993 air show.

Analysis The response to this event from the wing commander, Brigadier General Richards, sheds some light

on the nature of the overall leadership problem at Fairchild AFB. In testimony after the crash in June of ’94, Richards said of Lt. Col. Holland, “he never acted ... anything other than totally professional ... nothing I saw or knew about when I was at Fairchild led me to any other belief (emphasis added) about Bud Holland.” This testimony was from a Wing Commander who personally witnessed Lt. Col. Holland’s flagrant and willful tech order and regulatory violations at his own 1993 air show. Regarding the ’93 air show, BG Richards went on to state “I made it absolutely clear that everything that was going to be done in this demonstration was going to have to be on the up-and-up and in accordance with tech order and in accordance with the regulations ... and I was sure that it was (emphasis added).” It is interesting to note that the site commander at Roswell, N.M. immediately recognized a high-bank maneuver by a B-52 as a violation of tech order guidance, and took administrative action against the offender. What was going on at Fairchild? Did the Wing Commander not know or understand the tech orders or regulations? Was he misinformed? BG Richards states he looked to the DO, Col. Pellerin, for guidance. Col Pellerin states he looked to his Chief of Stan-Eval, Lt. Col. Holland, for guidance—and so the demonstration proceeded under the guidance of an aviator who already had been verbally reprimanded (perhaps twice) for willful

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violations and poor airmanship. A B-52 pilot interviewed about this state of affairs said “it was worse than the blind leading the blind. It was more like the spider and the fly,” referring to the abilities of Lt. Col. Holland to bend the leadership to his will. Although there was a new DO in place, Col. Pellerin did not take any more forceful action than did any of his predecessors. In fact, there was no verbal reprimand or counseling given to Lt. Col. Holland as there had been in the past air shows. He may have seen this as another signal of the senior leadership’s acquiescence to his brand of airmanship.

Situation Six: Yakima Bombing Range - 10 March 1994

Lt Col Holland was the aircraft commander on a single-ship mission to the Yakima Bombing Range to drop practice munitions and provide an authorized photographer an opportunity to shoot pictures of the B-52 from the ground as it conducted its bomb runs. Lt. Col. Holland flew the aircraft well below the established 500-foot minimum altitude for the low-level training route. In fact, one crossover was photographed at less than 30 feet, and another crewmember estimated that the final ridgeline crossover was “somewhere in the neighborhood of about three feet” (emphasis added) above the ground, and that the aircraft would have impacted the ridge if he had not intervened and pulled back on the yoke to increase the aircraft’s altitude. The photographers stopped filming because “they thought we were going to impact…and they were ducking out of the way.” Lt. Col. Holland also joined an unbriefed formation of A-10 fighter aircraft to accomplish a flyby over the photographer. This mission violated ACC Regulations regarding minimum altitudes, FAR Part 91 and Air Force Regulation (AFR) 60-16, regarding overflight of people on the ground. There were several occasions during the flight where other crewmembers verbally voiced their opposition to the actions being taken by Lt. Col. Holland. Following the flight, these same crewmembers went up the squadron chain of command with their story and stated they would not fly with Lt. Col. Holland again.

The Followers

During the Yakima flight, crewmembers strongly verbalized their concerns about the violations of air

discipline and regulations. At one point, Lt. Col. Holland reportedly called the radar navigator “a pussy” when he would not violate regulations and open the bomb doors for a photograph with live weapons on board. On another occasion, following a low crossover, the navigator told Lt. Col. Holland that the altitude he was flying was “senseless.” But the real hero on this flight was Capt. Eric Jones, a B-52 instructor pilot who found himself in the copilot seat with Lt. Col. Holland during the low-level portion of the flight. On this day, it would take all of his considerable skills, wits, and guile, to bring the aircraft safely back to Fairchild. After realizing that merely telling Lt. Col. Holland that he was violating regulations and that he (Capt. Jones) was uncomfortable with it was not going to work, Capt. Jones feigned illness to get a momentary climb to a higher altitude. Capt. Jones also said he needed training and flew a few more passes. But in the end it was once again Lt. Col. Holland at the controls. The following is Capt. Jones recollection of the events that took place then:

We came around and (Lt.) Col. Holland took us down to 50 feet. I told him that this was well below the clearance plane and that we needed to climb. He ignored me. I told him (again) as we approached the ridge line. I told him in three quick bursts “climb-climb- climb.” I didn’t see any clearance that we were going to clear the top of that mountain ... It appeared to me that he had target fixation. I said “climb-climb-climb.” again, he did not do it. I grabbed ahold of the yoke and I pulled it back pretty abruptly ... I’d estimate we had a cross-over around 15 feet…The radar navigator and the navigator were verbally yelling or screaming, reprimanding (Lt.) Col. Holland and saying that there was no need

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to fly that low ... his reaction to that input was he was laughing—I mean a good belly laugh.

Following the low-level portion of the mission at the Yakima Range, the crew was scheduled to fly

another low-level at a different route. Capt. Jones convinced Lt. Col. Holland that the other copilot on the flight needed some training. When Lt. Hollis climbed in the seat next to Capt. Jones (replacing Lt Col Holland at the other set of controls), Capt. Jones “told Lt. Hollis that he was not to get out of the seat again, (even if ) Col. Holland ordered him to.”

Upon returning from the mission, the crewmembers discussed the events among themselves and came

to the conclusion that they would not fly with Lt. Col. Holland again. Capt. Jones reports, “I vowed to them that never again would they or myself be subjected to fly with him. That if it required it, I would be willing to fall on my sword to ensure that didn’t happen.” The next day, Capt. Jones reported the events to Major Don Thompson, the squadron operations officer, stating “I did not ever want to fly with Lt. Col. Holland again, even if it meant that I couldn’t fly anymore as an Air Force pilot.” Major Thompson told Capt. Jones that he didn’t think it would come to that, because he “was joining a group of pilots in the squadron who had also made the same statement.”

The Leaders

The staff at the squadron level began to take action when Capt. Jones reported the events to Major

Thompson, the squadron Ops officer. Major Thompson had also already seen a videotape taken from the ground during the photography session the previous day and was aware of the severity and degree of the infractions. Although he was admittedly a good friend of Bud Holland, Major Thompson had seen enough. He immediately went to the Squadron Commander, Lt. Col. Mark McGeehan. Major Thompson recalls, “I had an intense gut feeling that things were getting desperate ... I said ‘I feel like I’m stabbing a friend in the back. I like (Lt.) Col. Holland but we need to remove him from flying. That Yakima flight needs to be his fini-flight.’ I guess I was just trying to protect Bud Holland from Bud Holland.” The Squadron Commander concurred with his Ops officer, but it was agreed that in order to restrict the wing Chief of Stan-Eval from flying, the order would have to come from the DO. Lt. Col. McGeehan went to see Col. Pellerin. At the meeting, Lt. Col. McGeehan laid the facts on the table and made his recommendation to ground Bud Holland. The DO thanked him and said he would get back to him with a decision after he had heard the other side of the story. Col. Pellerin consulted with Lt. Col. Holland and was told that he (Holland) was just trying to demonstrate aircraft capabilities to the more junior crewmembers. Lt. Col. Holland was verbally reprimanded by Col. Pellerin (undocumented) and promised not to break any more regulations in the future. The DO then called a meeting with Lt. Col. Holland and Lt. Col. McGeehan to announce his decision. He informed them both that he had reprimanded Lt. Col. Holland but that he had decided against any restriction on his flying. At that point, Lt. Col. McGeehan made a decision to restrict his crews from flying with Lt. Col. Holland unless he was also in the aircraft. According to his wife, “Mark said afterwards that he knew that he was not going to let (Lt.) Col. Holland fly with anybody else unless he was in the airplane ... that he was going to be flying whenever Bud flew.” He was true to his word.

Analysis

The squadron leadership at the 325th BMS performed admirably. After acquiring the facts and

evidence, the squadron senior staff reached a logical conclusion and made an ethical and appropriate decision. They attempted to use the chain of command to enforce established standards and upchannelled

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the information to the appropriate level. After the decision of the DO was rendered, they saluted smartly and went about taking actions that were within their purview in an attempt to do what they could to keep everyone safe.

There were two apparent failures at the DO level. First, Col. Pellerin did not obtain all of the available

information. He did not view the videotape of the event, and he did not contact previous senior wing leaders to ascertain if Lt. Col. Holland had a history of airmanship problems. This leadership error was not unique in the history of the 92d Bomb Wing. When confronted with clear evidence of willful violations of regulations, Col. Pellerin did not take proactive action to prevent a reoccurrence. Once again, the unrecorded verbal reprimand was the extent of the disciplinary action. By failing to take further action, the DO had set the stage for a bizarre and dangerous situation. Two men (Lt. Cols. McGeehan and Holland) who were professionally at odds, were to be paired in the cockpit for the next several months. Lt. Col. McGeehan had confided in his wife that he did not trust Bud Holland to fly with his aircrews. Capt. Eric Jones related the following encounter with Lt. Col. Holland (after the DO’s decision):

I was sitting there and he came over and said “That little f---er,” referring to Lt. Col. McGeehan, “tried to get me grounded. But I solved that, the three of us.” And Lt. Col. Holland told me, speaking directed at Lt. Col. McGeehan, that he didn’t respect him as a man, as a commander, or as a pilot. Apparently Lt. Col. McGeehan had said something about him being dangerous and Lt. Col. Holland indicated that he told him that he was just a “weak dick.”

The DO had not adequately considered the implications of his actions when he allowed Bud Holland

to continue to fly. Within his Operations Group there was, in essence, a small mutiny going on. Many of the crewmembers were no longer willing to fly with his Chief of Standards and Evaluation, even under orders. He had alienated his Bomb squadron commander, who now had to spend time tracking the flying schedule of Bud Holland to ensure that his crewmembers were not put in the unenviable position of choosing between risking their careers and risking their lives. The DO’s last error was that he failed to pass either the information or his decision up to the wing commander, Col. Brooks, who remained unaware of the entire situation.

The Command Climate at Fairchild AFB in Early 1994

The Yakima mission brought to a head many emotions that had been lying beneath the surface at

Fairchild. In addition to the problems in the Operations Group, the antics of Bud Holland were being discussed by the officer’s wives, civilians, and even on the high school campus.

The rift that existed between Lt. Col. McGeehan and Lt. Col. Holland extended beyond the men

themselves. A B-52 aircraft commander stated “Everybody was lining up on one side or the other, Bud had his groupies, and then there were the rest of us.” The effects and strain was also felt by Lt. Col. McGeehan’s wife Jodi, who related a conversation she had with Bud Holland’s wife, Sarah Ann. “I was at Donna Pellerin’s going away luncheon and I never really had a chance to meet Sarah in the whole year…somebody mentioned something about one of the air shows, and Sarah Ann just turned to me and she said ‘You know, there is not anybody that could do anything to stop my husband from flying the way he wants to fly.’” The children were no more exempt from the controversy than were the wives. Patrick McGeehan, Mark and Jodi’s oldest son, came home from school one day extremely angry at Victoria Harper, the daughter of the Lt. Col. Steve Harper, the Deputy Operations Group Commander. When his mother asked him why he was so upset he replied, “Well, all year long she just kept telling me that the best pilot in the squadron was Col. Bud Holland ... it annoyed me, but the thing that really annoys me the

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most now is that she said that if anybody is going to roll the B-52, Bud Holland is going to be the one to do it, and I can just see him doing it someday.”

There is also some evidence to suggest that the local civilian community was aware of the

controversy swirling around Lt. Col. Holland’s flying practices. One civilian complained to the local TV news that a B-52 was in 60- to 70-degrees of bank over the local supermarket in Airway Heights.

But it was the crew-force morale that was most affected. Capt. Shawn Fleming, a B-52 instructor pilot

and a weapons school graduate, was an opinion leader within the squadron, and summed up the feelings many 325th BMS aviators had about Lt. Col. Holland’s airmanship, and the wing leadership’s actions related to it.

Everybody had a Col Holland scare story. Col Holland was kind of like a crazy aunt ... the parents say “Ignore her”…and the hypocrisy was amazing. For him to be in the position of the Chief of Standardization ... is unconscionable. When Col. Holland did something ... he’s patted on the back by the leadership, “Good Show.” What’s the crew force supposed to learn from that? You got the “He’s about to retire” (and) “That’s Bud Holland, he has more hours in the B-52 than you do sleeping.” Yeah, he might have that many hours, but he became complacent, reckless, and willfully violated regulations. By June 1994, the command climate at Fairchild Air Force Base was one of distrust and hostility.

“Everybody was just trying to get out of here.” In spite of these facts, Lt. Col. Holland was selected by Col Pellerin to perform the 1994 airshow. “It was a non-issue,” Pellerin said. “‘Bud was Mr. Air show.”

Situation Seven: Air Show Practice - 17 June 1994

Lt Col Holland and the accident crew flew the first of two scheduled practice sessions for the 1994 air show. The profile was exactly the same as the accident mission except that two profiles were flown. Once again, they included large bank angles and high pitch climbs in violation of ACC regulations and technical order guidance. The wing commander, Col Brooks, had directed that the bank angles be limited to 45 degrees and the pitch to 25 degrees. These were still in excess of regulations and technical order guidance. Both profiles flown during this practice exceeded the wing commander’s stated guidance. However, at the end of the practice session, Col Pellerin, the DO, told the wing commander that “the profile looks good to him; looks very safe, well within parameters.”

The Followers

Because the 325th BMS was scheduled to close, most of the bomb squadron crewmembers had

already been transferred to new assignments. But those that remained were not comfortable with the situation. In fact, one of the squadron navigators refused to fly the air show if Lt Col Holland was going to be flying. This required the ranking navigator in the 325th BMS, Lt. Col. Huston, to be the navigator for the air show and practice missions. Major Thompson, the squadron Operations Officer, was also uneasy. “I had this fear that he was again going to get into the air show…that he was going to try something again, ridiculous maybe and kill thousands of people.”

It wasn’t just the flyers that were getting nervous. Lt. Col. (Dr.) Robert Grant, the 92d Air Refueling

Squadron Flight Surgeon, was told by a crewmember during a routine appointment that he refused to fly with Lt. Col. Holland.

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This, coupled with a concern that Lt. Col. Holland was scheduled to fly in the 1994 air show, led Dr. Grant to take his concerns to both the 92d Bomb Wing Chief of Safety, Lt. Col. Mike McCullough, and to Dr. Issak, the Chief of Aeromedical Services at Fairchild. The Chief of Safety told Dr. Grant that “Lt. Col. Holland was a good pilot and that the maneuvers had been done before.” Dr. Issak did not pursue the issue after he learned that Dr. Grant had spoken to the wing safety officer.

Major Theresa Cochran, the nurse manager in emergency services, attended an air show planning

session in which Lt. Col. Holland briefed that he planned to fly 65-degree bank turns. The wing commander quickly told him that he would be limited to 45 degrees maximum. Major Cochran recalls Lt. Col. Holland’s response in a prophetic discussion between her and a co-worker who was also in attendance at the planning session.

Colonel Holland’s initial reaction was to brag that he could crank it pretty tight ... he said he could crank it tight and pop up starting at 200 (knots). Bob and I looked at each other, and Bob is going, “He’s f---ed.”, and I said “I just hope he crashes on Friday, not Sunday, so I will not have so many bodies to pick up.”…those words did return to haunt me.

The Leaders

During the planning session briefing on June 15, Lt. Col. Holland briefed using overhead slides (see

Appendix [The Appendix is not included in the CGSOC document]). As the briefing progressed, Col. Brooks, the wing commander, made clear that (1) there would be no formation flight, (2) bank angles would be limited to 45 degrees, and (3) that pitch angles would be limited to 25 degrees. Although the slides and briefing clearly indicated that a part of the demonstration would include a “wingover,” there was curiously no discussion on this point. Although Lt. Col. Holland was clearly not pleased with the wing commander’s guidance, there is no doubt that he left the briefing with an understanding of what the commander’s guidance was. During the practice mission, the commander’s guidance was repeatedly violated, but was not reported as such by Col. Pellerin, the DO to the wing commander. The wing commander had only personally witnessed a small portion of the practice because he was at a rehearsal for a retirement ceremony for the outgoing Base Commander. Lt. Col. Ballog, who was serving as the Commander of Troops on the parade field at this rehearsal, recalls Col. Brooks making a negative comment about the portion of the air show practice that he was able to see. “The comment was basically, that this was not supposed to be happening ... not a part of the agenda…that he (Lt. Col. Holland) was too low and banking over too hard ... which were contrary to guidance that had been put out.” In spite of this personal observation, no action was taken following the report of “well within parameters” by the DO upon landing from the practice session.

Analysis

Once again, there was incongruity between senior leadership words and actions. After stating that

certain safety criteria (which still exceeded regulatory and T.O. guidance) regarding bank and pitch angles would be followed, the senior leadership personally witnessed the violations. The DO witnessed them from the aircraft and the wing commander witnessed them from the ground. Both undoubtedly knew that the deviations were intentional. Lt. Col. Holland’s unquestioned flying skills ruled out the possibility that these overbanks and excess pitch angles were simply slip ups or errors. Yet no action was taken.

It appears that at this point, the leadership had given up on enforcing standards with regard to Lt. Col.

Holland. Further, they appeared to be unable to read an atmosphere of impending disaster that permeated nearly every aspect of the 92d Bomb Wing.

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(On Monday, the 20th of June, disaster did strike Fairchild AFB, but it was not the one that is the focus of this analysis. A lone gunman entered the base hospital and killed several Air Force personnel before being shot and killed by a security police officer responding to the scene. Understandably, the air show and all preparations for it were immediately put on hold. After some discussion, it was determined that going ahead with the air show would aid in the healing process of the personnel still at the base, and so another practice session was scheduled for the morning of 24 June.)

On that morning, Secretary of the Air Force Sheila Widnall and United States Congressman Tom

Foley visited the base, so the takeoff for the practice session was delayed until the afternoon. At 1335 Pacific Daylight Time (PDT), Czar 52 taxied to runway 23 for departure. At 1416 PDT, the aircraft impacted the ground, killing all aboard.

Section Four: Conclusions and Implications

Leadership exists in direct proportion to the degree to which subordinates are willing to follow. Leadership is a social phenomenon. When followers cease to follow, leaders cease to lead. This is true even if the “leaders” hold high military ranks and fill positions of great power and responsibility. To a large degree, this was what had occurred within the 92d Bomb Wing at Fairchild AFB in the early 1990s. Describing what occurred is interesting and insightful, but determining why it occurred is absolutely essential if we are to avoid similar catastrophes in the future. Using the questions posed in Section One of this study, the following conclusions were reached.

• Followers stopped following.

Just as “up” has no meaning without the concept of “down,” leadership must be defined in terms of

followership. On an individual basis, Lt. Col. Holland refused to follow written regulations and B-52 tech orders, as well as ignoring the verbal orders and guidance given by the Wing Commanders and DOs. Even when verbal reprimands and counseling sessions focused on the specific problem of airmanship, he steadfastly refused to follow their guidance. At one point, only weeks prior to the accident, he clearly stated his feelings on the issue of guidance from senior officers:

I’m going to fly the air show and yeah, I may have someone senior in rank flying with me. He may be the boss on the ground, but I’m the boss in the air and I’ll do what I want to do.

The aircrews quickly perceived this as an integrity problem within the leadership. The flyers, and

eventually other members in the wing, simply lost faith in the leadership’s ability to deal with the problem. Capt. Brett Dugue summed up the crewmember’s frustration this way: “You’ve got to be kidding me, if they allowed him to fly a 50 foot fly-by at a change of command, do you think me telling anybody about him flying low at IR 300 is going to do any good?” As a result of this loss of faith, the aircrews began to employ other survival techniques, such as feigning illness and openly refusing to fly with Lt. Col. Holland.

The lesson learned and implication for current and future commanders is that trust is built by

congruence between word and deed at all levels. Subordinates are quick to pick up on any disconnect. They are closer to the action, have more time on their hands, and love to analyze their leaders. Retired Air Force General Perry Smith writes, “Without trust and mutual respect among leaders and subordinate leaders, a large organization will suffer from a combination of poor performance and low morale.” He was right on target in this case.

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• Standards were not enforced.

A rogue aviator was allowed, for more than three years, to operate with a completely different set of

rules than those applied to the rest of the wing aviators. The institutional integrity of the 92d Bomb Wing leadership was severely damaged by this unwillingness to act. The entire leadership structure of Fairchild Air Force Base (above the squadron level) appeared to be operating in a state of denial, hoping for the best until the base closed or Lt. Col. Holland retired. Why? Either the wing leadership did not understand or know that the rules were being violated, or they chose not to apply them uniformly. The first case illustrates possible negligence and incompetence; the second hints at a lack of integrity.

In the words of retired army Lt. Gen. Calvin Waller, “Bad news doesn’t improve with age.” Leaders

must act upon information or evidence of noncompliance. If they elect not to act, they should communicate their reasons for not doing so. Failure to do either invites second-guessing and criticism, often eroding the critical element of trust between the leader and the led. Leaders must also learn to recognize the traits of the rogue aviator, for while Lt. Col. Holland stood out like a beacon, many others still operate today to a lesser degree.

• A key position was filled with the wrong person.

Selecting an aviator who exercised poor airmanship as the Chief of Standards and Evaluations Branch

was a poor choice, but leaving him there after multiple flagrant and willful violations of regulations sent an extremely negative message to the rest of the wing flyers. Individuals who hold key positions are looked up to as role models by junior crewmembers. They must be removed if they cannot maintain an acceptable standard of professionalism. Even if Lt. Col. Holland had not crashed, the damage he had done through his bad example of airmanship is incalculable. Not only did many young officers see his lack of professionalism as a bad example, but they also observed several senior leaders witness his actions and fail to take any corrective action. What this said to them about Air Force leadership in general is uncertain, but in at least one case, it led an otherwise satisfied Air Force pilot to try civilian life. “I wanted no part of an organization that would allow that kind of thing to continue for years on end. We (the crewmembers) pointed it out to them (the leaders) over and over again. It was always the same response—nothing. I’d had enough.”

Gen. Perry Smith states, “Leaders must be willing to remove people for cause…the continued

presence of ineffective subordinates, drain the organization and its capable leaders of the time, energy, and attention needed to accomplish the mission.” He goes on to explain, “If the person is fired for cause, there should be no question remaining about why the person was fired and that the cause was an important one.”

The implication for current and future leaders is simply to select key personnel carefully, with an understanding that they are role models and will help shape the personality of the entire organization. If a mistake is made by selecting the wrong person for a key position, remove that person if there is cause so that you don’t compound the original error.

• The senior leadership positions did not speak with continuity.

That is to say that when an individual Wing Commander or DO issued an ultimatum, like “If you do

this again, I will ground you,” they did not pass this information along to their replacement. Consequently, new commanders were left having to deal with the problem as if were new. Lt. Col.

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Holland undoubtedly viewed this situation like a “get out of jail free” card with a new commander or DO equaling a fresh start. While outgoing leaders didn’t fulfill their responsibility to inform new commanders, incoming commanders didn’t ask the right questions.

One recommended technique when there is little or no overlap of commanders, is for the outgoing

leader to make an audio tape and file for the incoming leader detailing any problem areas or “skeletons in the closet” that would lend continuity to an organization during the crucial transition period. In any case, critical information must be passed along to preserve the “corporate memory” and integrity of a command position.

• Leaders did not keep open channels of communication.

In some cases, the problem was blatant and obvious, such as the DO who told a subordinate “I don’t

want to know about any video. I don’t care,” after the Global Power mission. In other cases it was more subtle. The fact that the DO did not inform the Wing Commander of the Yakima Bomb Range issue, with the resultant request for Lt. Col. Holland’s grounding, begs the question “Why didn’t he tell the boss?” Would the Wing Commander have made the same decision to keep Lt. Col. Holland flying? Perhaps the DO did not want to “air dirty laundry” outside of the Ops Group, or perhaps the Wing Commander was unapproachable with bad news. These are purely speculative statements, but are mentioned here to get the reader to analyze similar traits in themselves or leaders they have worked for, and to emphasize the importance of communication throughout the chain of command. This is especially important now that there are Brigadier Generals as wing commanders throughout the Air Force. The flag rank adds a new factor to the communication equation and can make it much more difficult for subordinate to feel comfortable bringing the bad news to the boss.

A Final Perspective

The crash of Czar 52, like most accidents, was part of a chain of events. These events were facilitated through the failed policies of several senior leaders at the 92d Bomb Wing. These failures included an inability to recognize and correct the actions of a single rogue aviator, which eventually led to an unhealthy command climate and the disintegration of trust between leaders and subordinates. However, in most aircraft mishaps, the crash is the final domino to drop in the cause and effect chain of events. In this case, however, scores of young and impressionable aviators “grew up” watching a rogue aviator as their role model for over three years. They remained on active flying status in various Air Force wings, passing along what they have learned. Because of this, the final domino in this chain of events may not yet have fallen.

All Footnotes that include Tab numbers, for example “V-21.7,” refer to the USAF 110-14 Accident

Investigation Board Report of the B-52 Mishap at Fairchild AFB, 24 June 1994. DAVIS-MONTHAN AFB, Az. (AFNS)—Air Force Col. William E. Pellerin was sentenced to forfeit

$1,500 per month for five months and to receive a written reprimand May 22 after being found guilty of two allegations of dereliction of duty associated with his performance of duty as commander of the 92nd Operations Group at Fairchild AFB, Wash., and last year.

Pellerin had pleaded guilty to the two offenses in a military judge alone proceeding on May 19. His

plea was part of a pretrial agreement in which he offered to plead guilty to the two offenses in exchange for a third offense being dismissed and limitations on the amount of punishment which could be imposed.

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By law, the agreed-upon punishment limitations were not disclosed to the judge until after he announced his own adjudicated sentence. However, the pretrial agreement’s sentence limitation will not affect the judge’s announced sentence, because the judge’s sentence did not exceed the agreed limits.

The first dereliction of duty of which Pellerin was found guilty involved failure to obtain required

higher headquarters approvals for aerial maneuvers and failing to ensure that maximum bank angles were not exceeded in air show-related flights. The second dereliction involved failure to make adequate inquiry into a pilot’s qualifications to perform flying duties after becoming aware of issues concerning the pilot’s airmanship and air discipline.

The pilot and crew died in a B-52 crash in 1994 while practicing for an air show at Fairchild. The offense that was dismissed was an allegation that the accused had been derelict in his duties by

failing to remove the pilot from flying duties. About the Author Major Tony Kern is a U.S. Air Force pilot with operational experience in the Rockwell B-1B

supersonic bomber, Boeing KC-135 Tanker, and the Slingsby T-3 Firefly. During his 15-year Air Force career, he has served in various operational and training capacities including the Chief of Cockpit Resource Management (CRM) Plans and Programs at the USAF Air Education and Training Command (AETC). While at AETC, he designed and implemented a comprehensive, career-spanning CRM training system which has radically changed the way that human factors training is offered to all Air Force aviators. Major Kern has been actively engaged in many areas of military aviation training, including inflight instruction and evaluation, academic instruction, and curriculum development. He is a published author and his most recent book Redefining Airmanship (McGraw-Hill 1997) describes the traits of historical aviation success over the past 90 years. He holds Masters Degrees in Public Administration and Military History, as well as the Doctorate in Higher Education from Texas Tech University specializing in human factors training and curriculum development. At the time of writing this case study he was the Director of Military History at the United States Air Force Academy and lives with his wife Shari and two sons in Colorado Springs.

Timeline and Key Players for Darker Shades of Blue

The Leaders: LTC Bud Holland Pilot/Aircraft Cdr (Czar 52) 1991–1994

COL Weinman Wing Commander May 1991

COL Julich Deputy Commander for Operations (DO)

May 1991

COL Capotosti Assistant Deputy Commander (ADO)

July 1991

COL Ruotsala Wing Commander 1992

BG Richards Wing Commander 1993–94

LTC Bullock Squadron Commander 1993

LTC Harper Assistant Deputy Commander (ADO)

1993

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COL Pellerin Deputy Commander for Operations (DO)

1993–94

COL Brooks Wing Commander 1994

LTC McCullough Chief of Safety 1994

LTC Mark McGeehan 325th Squadron Commander 1994

LTC Ken Huston 325th BMS Operations Officer 1994

COL Robert Wolff Vice Wing Commander 1994

Chronological List of Major Events: Incident #1, 19 May 1991 Wing Cdr: COL Weinman Deputy Cdr for OPS (DO): COL Julich Incident #2, 12 July 1991 DO: COL Julich ADO: COL Capotosti Incident #3, 17 May 1992 Wing Cdr: COL Ruotsala DO: COL Julich ADO: COL Capotosti Incident #4, 14–15 March 1993 Wing Cdr: BG Richards Squadron Cdr: LTC Bullock ADO: LTC Harper Incident #5, 8 August 1993 Wing Cdr: BG Richards DO: COL Pellerin Incident #6, 10 March 1994 DO: COL Pellerin Incident #7, 17 June 1994 Wing Cdr: COL Brooks DO: COL Pellerin Chief of Safety: LTC McCullough Incident #8, 24 June 1994 LTC Bud Holland, LTC Mark McGeehan, COL Robert Wolff and LTC Ken Huston killed in the crash of Czar 52

L442RD-407

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC) L400: Art of Command/Module IV: The Offense

L442: Morally Courageous Followers

L442: Reading D ADP 6-22 Chapter 2: Excerpt

Author: US Army

PERSONAL COURAGE: FACE FEAR, DANGER, OR ADVERSITY (PHYSICAL AND MORAL).

2-12. Personal courage is not the absence of fear; it is the ability to put fear aside and do what is necessary or right. Personal courage takes two forms: physical and moral. Effective leaders demonstrate both. Physical courage requires overcoming fears of bodily harm and doing one’s duty. It triggers bravery that allows a Soldier to take risks in combat in spite of the fear of injury or death. For leaders, mission accomplishment may demand risking their own lives or those of Soldiers and justly taking the lives of enemies.

2-13. Moral courage is the willingness to stand firm on values, principles, and convictions. It enables

all leaders to stand up for what they believe is right, regardless of the consequences. Leaders, who take full responsibility for their decisions and actions, even when things go wrong, display moral courage. Moral courage also expresses itself as candor—being frank, honest, and sincere with others. Carefully considered professional judgment offered to subordinates, peers, and superiors is an expression of personal courage

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