Special WarfareThe Professional Bulletin of the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School

PB 80–95–2 April 1995 Vol. 8, No. 2

During a conference earlier this month,the Special Warfare Center and Schoolcelebrated the eighth birthday of the Spe-cial Forces Branch. Participants in theconference presented papers that not onlyexamined the Branch’s current state butalso looked at the future of special-opera-tions forces.

One of the papers, presented by Dr.Robert Wright of the Army Center forMilitary History, was titled “FutureRoles and Missions: Lessons from Ameri-ca’s Past.” At first, the title may soundodd — some would argue that to preparefor the future we must look forward, notback. But as we prepare for the opera-tions we are most likely to encounter inthe years ahead, we must be careful notto ignore the lessons learned from previ-ous operations.

In this issue of Special Warfare, Dr.Joseph Fischer examines the origins of Spe-cial Forces. His analysis begins with WorldWar II and goes through the mid-1950s.This period marked the beginnings of ourmodern-day special-operations forces, buteven before the early SOF units were creat-ed, U.S. forces participated in operationssimilar to those we now call special opera-tions. Amid current discussions aboutpeacekeeping and the accelerating pace ofethnic, nationalist and separatist conflictsthroughout the world, we may forget thatour own Civil War was a nationalist-sepa-ratist conflict; that during Reconstructionour Army performed peacekeeping, nation-building and humanitarian-assistance mis-sions; and that our Indian wars were along-running ethnic conflict. Likewise, thepartisan-warfare, coalition-warfare andpeace-enforcement operations we are con-cerned about today had forerunners in thesmall wars that U.S. forces fought early inthis century — operations that weredetailed in the Marine Corps’ Small WarsManual of 1940.

The lessons of history need not comefrom the analysis of battles and cam-paigns long past. In this issue we havelessons learned from a unit’s most recentexercise, from events during DesertStorm, and from an examination of theforeign policies of past administrations.

We cannot find all of our answers bylooking at historical lessons: to do sowould be like preparing for the last battle.But in this issue, Dr. James Schneidermakes the point, “To learn from the past,we must anticipate the future.” As ourperception of the future changes, so doesour perception of the past and the ways bywhich we will interpret its lessons.

Maj. Gen. William F. Garrison

From the CommandantSpecial Warfare

Commander & CommandantMaj. Gen. William F. Garrison

EditorJerry D. Steelman

Associate EditorSylvia McCarley

Graphics & DesignBruce S. Barfield

V E R I T A S

STREBIL

A

E T

PB 80–95–2 ContentsApril 1995 Special Warfare Vol. 8, No. 2

By Order of the Secretary of the Army:Gordon R. SullivanGeneral, United States ArmyChief of Staff

Official:

Milton H. HamiltonAdministrative Assistant to theSecretary of the Army

08077

Headquarters, Department of the Army

Special Warfare is an authorized, official quarterly ofthe United States Army John F. Kennedy Special WarfareCenter and School, Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Itsmission is to promote the professional development ofspecial-operations forces by providing a forum for theexamination of established doctrine and new ideas.

Views expressed herein are those of the authors and donot necessarily reflect official Army position. Thispublication does not supersede any information presentedin other official Army publications.

Articles, photos, artwork and letters are invited andshould be addressed to Editor, Special Warfare,USAJFKSWCS, Fort Bragg, NC 28307-5000. Telephone:DSN 239-5703, commercial (910) 432-5703, fax -5341.Special Warfare reserves the right to edit all material.

Published works may be reprinted, except wherecopyrighted, provided credit is given to Special Warfareand the authors.

Official distribution is limited to active and reservespecial-operations units. Individuals desiring privatesubscriptions should forward their requests to:Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government PrintingOffice, Washington, D.C. 20402.

Features

2 Ambushing the Futureby James J. Schneider

11 Civil Affairs Information Collection in Kuwait Cityby Lt. Col. Michael J. Cleary

14 Intervention Decision-making During the Bush Administration: Deciding Where to Go In and When to Get Outby Arnold Kanter

24 SF Direct Action and Targeting: Appropriate Force andCustomer Satisfactionby Lt. Col. Ed Phillips

28 Cut from a Different Cloth: The Origins of U.S. Army Special Forcesby Joseph R. Fischer

40 A Special Breed of Officer: The Special Forces Warrant Officerby CWO3 Shaun Driscoll

Departments47 Officer Career Notes48 Enlisted Career Notes50 Letters52 Foreign SOF54 Update56 Book Reviews

Despite the current proliferation ofbooks and articles on the subject of thefuture, there is no unique set of creden-tials that makes anyone an expert. Atbest, one can only provoke thought andspur interest in the belief that the futurematters, and for a military institution,nothing matters more.

In thinking about the future of one par-ticular military institution, U.S. ArmySpecial Forces, we should consider the fol-lowing provocations:

First, the future has little to do with thelinear, mechanical passage of time. We donot await the future as we await a birth-day, a dinner appointment or a wake-upcall. The future is already before us, hid-den in a fog. It is like a living thing thatwe must seek out, discover and ambush.

Second, the U.S. Army of the future willface its greatest challenge since the end ofthe American Civil War.

Third, the future will be dominated by aresurgent force that will change thenature of both the nation-state and thenational security system.

Fourth, in the future, nations will nolonger wage war. They will wage peace.

Fifth, Special Forces, as distinguishedfrom special-operations forces, will becomethe hinge upon which the rest of the Armyturns and moves into the future. Further-more, Special Forces will be the premiumwe pay to ensure the unit integrity, coher-ence and cohesion of our conventional

forces. Failing to make this leveragedinvestment could lead to the erosion of ourconventional capability.

Sixth, the future will require an expan-sible Special Forces group capable of con-ventional augmentation. An augmentedSF group structure would provide SpecialForces with an independent operationaland even strategic presence.

Finally, the best vision for the future ofSpecial Forces was given by PresidentJohn F. Kennedy.

Confronting the futureThe future personified is cunning,

unforgiving, deceptive, elusive and evenseductive. It performs a kind of striptease,revealing a shoulder here, an ankle there,but always remaining hidden, wrapped inuncertainty.

For our part, we sit in innocence, tend-ing to our immediate concerns, not recog-nizing that we may already be six yearsinto the 21st century. Historian JohnLukacs and others have suggested thatthe 20th century began in 1914 withWorld War I and ended in 1989 with thecollapse of the Soviet Union. Their argu-ment suggests that the future moves uponus not simply with the linear passage oftime but with the movement of a rapidlychanging world through time. Indeed,whatever makes the future new in anymeaningful way is the novelty of our

Ambushing the Future

by James J. Schneider

2 Special Warfare

thinking and understanding as we con-front the changing world around us. Thechallenge of the future, then, if it is a con-frontation with new ideas, is fundamental-ly an intellectual struggle.

Gen. George S. Patton had somethingsimilar in mind when he asserted that waris the most complex form of humanendeavor. We can extend his assertion toinclude operations other than war. Everymilitary institution recognizes war as anessential, defining challenge. It is para-doxical that when armies fail most cata-strophically, the source of the collapse isfound in peacetime and in the armies’ fail-ure to confront the future.

Armies are not only instruments of poli-cy, as Karl von Clausewitz reminds us —they are also social institutions that trainand evolve during peacetime. Armies aspeacetime institutions are thus suscepti-ble to the same forces that influencenations and societies as a whole. And of allthe factors that influence the future of anation and its security system, the mostdramatic is sudden and unexpected geopo-litical change.

We now stand square in the middle ofsuch change. We have yet to divine thefull implications of the revolution in

geopolitics euphemistically called the newworld order. But in scope and influence,the dramatic transformation of the SovietUnion is arguably the greatest geopoliticalevent since the disintegration of theRoman Empire more than 1,500 years ago.Moved by these same events, the U.S.Army is already embarking on a revolu-tion of its own, but unlike the SovietUnion and its security system, the U.S.Army must not fail.

A few years ago Eliot Cohen and JohnGooch wrote Military Misfortunes, a bookon why military institutions fail. Theauthors cited three causes of catastrophicmilitary failure: failure to learn from pastexperiences, failure to anticipate thefuture and failure to adapt to the future.

According to Cohen and Gooch, armiesdevelop a kind of collective amnesia. Who,for example, remembers Col. Lewis Mer-rill? Merrill, a West Point graduate (classof ’55), was the commander of an eliteArmy unit that had been operating in asemitropical region for nearly two years.In one memorable operation, the coloneldeployed part of his unit in 12-mandetachments. Their mission was to chaseand destroy armed units of a clan that hadbeen terrorizing the local populace and

April 1995 3

National Archives photo

War damage to southerncities such as Charleston,S.C., posed a challenge tothe U.S. Army duringReconstruction.

threatening the peace and stabilitythroughout the region.

On one particular day in March, Merrillplaced two detachments under his bestofficers: Lts. B.H. Hodgson and DonaldMcIntosh. The two detachments, each tak-ing along a local law-enforcement officerwho knew the region thoroughly, movedswiftly through the damp spring morningto trap and crush the last remnants of theclan. Shortly after their successfulencounter, Merrill and his unit were reas-signed to other, more conventional opera-tions. The place where Merrill operatedwasn’t Somalia or even Vietnam — it wasSouth Carolina, in the year 1873. The unitwas the 7th U.S. Cavalry, and the clanthat Merrill’s troops took down was theKu Klux Klan.

ReconstructionHistorically, the operations in which

Merrill and his troops took part wereknown as the period of Reconstruction.Lasting from 1865 to 1877, the period rep-resented, from a military standpoint, thedarkest days in the history of the Army.

During Reconstruction, the Army con-tributed extensively to the greatest social,economic and political restoration in itshistory as it labored to help maintainorder and rebuild the devastated states ofthe former Confederacy. Swift demobiliza-tion, peacekeeping operations in the Southand political implementation of civil-rightslegislation created unprecedented circum-stances for the Army and its leaders.Most, like William T. Sherman, rejectedthe Army’s new role in operations otherthan war. Sherman’s position was simple:The Army should go back to the prewartasks of guarding the nation’s frontiersagainst foreign and domestic enemies. Onthe other side of the issue, Sherman’slongtime friend, Ulysses S. Grant, arguedthat although the Union had won the war,it could still lose the peace envisioned byAbraham Lincoln.

A close study of the operations of unitslike Merrill’s 7th Cavalry reveals that thefunctional and conceptual roots of specialoperations, in terms of peace operations,

go back 130 years. Reconstruction was, allat once, an effort in peacekeeping, peaceenforcement, humanitarian relief, nation-building and, with the rise of the Ku KluxKlan, counterterrorism. The Reconstruc-tion activities of Army units were unprece-dented in their time, and they soundremarkably familiar today.

For the Army, and for Special Forces,the future will be a period of global recon-struction. It is beginning to dawn on manyof our world leaders that although theWest has won the Cold War, it can stilllose the peace. The stage is being set forpeacekeeping and peace-enforcement oper-ations on a truly massive scale, and morethan 100,000 troops of all nations arealready involved in these activities.

But there is another aspect of Recon-struction that anticipates the future — theArmy’s unique relationship to the U.S.Constitution. The newly revised FieldManual 100-5, Operations, states, “TheUnited States Army exists to support anddefend the Constitution.” Grant’s employ-ment of the Army during Reconstructionsupported the Constitution and its newlypromulgated civil-rights amendments. TheU.S. armed forces, alone among the majorsecurity forces of the world, swear alle-giance to our Constitution. This act offaith toward the ideals of freedom lendsmoral authority to our position as a worldleader. For better or worse, during thistime of global reconstruction, the rest ofthe world will continue to turn to the U.S.in the name of freedom.

Resurgent forceAs an Army we are fortunate to have

such a rich historical tradition. But ourexperience is of little use if it cannot beinterpreted in light of future operations.In other words, to learn from the past, wemust anticipate the future. And the futurewill be dominated by a single overwhelm-ing presence — the United Nations.

The resurgence and the growing influ-ence of the U.N. will not only affect oursoldiers but may change the very struc-ture of the nation-state. As the modernstate evolved, it developed a legal struc-

4 Special Warfare

ture that acted as a kind of genetic code.One of the key legal strands was the rightof the state to declare and wage war. Thegrowing power of the U.N. is beginningslowly to erode this defining characteristicof the nation-state and increasingly callinto question the use of war as a legiti-mate instrument of national policy. In thefuture, war and peace will be re-estab-lished on a new conceptual footing, andthe idea of the soldier will be redefined.Increasingly, national armed forces willresemble U.S. Army Special Forces.

The U.N. was chartered June 26, 1945,to ensure for all nations “the maintenanceof international peace and security.” Intheir quest for global security, nationsentered into a kind of Faustian pact withthe U.N.: To be more secure, nationswould have to relinquish some of theirsovereignty. Initially, the Cold War andnuclear deterrence hid the full implica-tions of this new global arrangement. Notuntil the Korean War did we get a glimpseof war fought for the enforcement of peace.

When Gen. Douglas MacArthur utteredhis now-famous words, “There is no substi-tute for victory,” he meant total victory.His statement was backed by thousands ofyears of history. Even before the existence

of the nation-state, the highest act ofsovereignty was to wage war and to freelyset its limits, which often included thetotal overthrow of the enemy. Those limitsdefined victory for the soldier; in fact, theidea of total victory defined the fundamen-tal values of the military profession. In thepast, when nations and empires decided tofight for limited objectives, their decisionswere self-determined and were expres-sions of their own sovereignty. Now, theU.N. has begun to define victory on itsown terms.

The U.N. redefinition of victory has alsoset the stage for redefining the purpose ofa nation’s armed forces. Before the KoreanWar a state’s armed forces existed to deterwar and, if necessary, to wage war to theextreme. The emergence of the UnitedNations has created a new formula: Underthe new U.N. arrangement of collectivesecurity, nations will strive primarily tocompel peace. For the first time in the his-tory of warfare, the deterrence of war andthe dominance of war-fighting is beingsupplanted by a new concept of securityfocused on peace compelling, peaceenforcement and peacekeeping.

Ironically, these peace operations do notguarantee peace. Instead, the U.N. has

April 1995 5

United Nations photo

Peacekeeping and peace-enforcement operations ofthe U.N. often function assafety valves to dissipatehostilities.

attempted to create a new precondition forconflict by establishing peacekeeping andpeace-enforcement operations, which oftenfunction as safety valves to dissipate hostil-ities. When the pressure is too great, peaceoperations typically fail. Conceptually, theU.N. has added an ambiguous but neces-sary threshold of compelling that is oftenviolated, leading to armed conflict. TheKorean Conflict and the Gulf War areexamples of situations in which the thresh-old was breached, but in which, neverthe-less, the U.N. limited the scope of hostili-ties. It is the U.N.’s imposition of thisthreshold that makes peacekeeping andpeace enforcement not war, but like war.

The U.N.’s central role in shaping thefuture during global reconstruction willpersist, and its geopolitical influence willlikely increase for at least five reasons:

• Fundamental changes in the globalthreat environment;

• The evolving role of the world media;• The increasing extension, complexity

and vulnerability of the global economy;• The fact that peace costs less than

war; and• The growing ideology of peace.The first reason for the increase in the

U.N.’s global role is the dramatic changes

in the world threat environment. Duringthe Cold War, assessments were based onconflict arising between states or betweenblocs of state coalitions. In the future, con-flict will arise as a consequence of fournew factors. Foremost is the emergingpower of the individual or small-group ter-rorist. Thanks to the proliferation andaccessibility of weapons of mass lethality,the individual terrorist, especially, ispotentially a strategic agent, a techno-ter-rorist capable of any level of destruction.The second factor is the emergence of“messianic statism.” The term refers to aform of statecraft dominated by religiousfundamentalism and is best representedby such Islamic states as Iran and Sudan.The central threat of the individual strate-gic agent and the messianic state to worldpeace is that neither is subject to therationality of deterrence, since each ismotivated primarily by irrational factors.This deterrent void will be filled by theU.N. The third factor is the impending col-lapse of Africa, and the fourth is the rise ofethnic violence.

The role of a global media will create asecond reason for an increasing U.N. role.Today the media knows no nationalboundaries — it is international. The

6 Special Warfare

Photo by Douglas Wisnioski

Through its global exten-sion, universal presenceand speed-of-light technol-ogy, today’s media canchange world opinion in amatter of hours.

media is a powerful lever of public opin-ion. Through its global extension, univer-sal presence and speed-of-light technology,today’s media can change world opinion ina matter of hours. As a consequence, localissues become laden almost immediatelywith global implications and thereforebecome U.N. problems.

The third reason for a future U.N. pres-ence concerns the vulnerability and com-plexity of the global economy. Former Sec-retary of State James Baker wasn’t farwrong when he said we went to war in thePersian Gulf because of jobs — jobs sus-tained by an oil-fueled world economy.One can readily imagine the consequenceshad Iraq seized the Saudi oil fields alongwith nearly two-thirds of the world’s oilreserves. The world’s need for oil demandsthat the old Cold War strategy of contain-ment be replaced by a new strategy ofaccessibility: free access to energy marketsunder the protection of some kind of globalsecurity arrangement like the U.N.

The cost of war constitutes a fourth rea-son for a resurgent U.N. With the collapseof the Soviet bloc, most nations follow ademocratic form of government. The oneproblem with democracies, as WinstonChurchill once pointed out, is that theyare generally inefficient at waging war.The structure of a relatively free demo-cratic market economy tends to collapseunder the weight of protracted war. As thenumber of democracies increases, simpleeconomies of scale will drive countriestoward a global security organizationunder the aegis of the U.N. Even now wecan anticipate the transformation of theNorth Atlantic Treaty Organization(under the Partnership for Peace Pro-gram) from a regional security arrange-ment to a future role as the U.N.’s mili-tary arm.

Waging peaceThe final reason that suggests a domi-

nant U.N. influence in the future is themost difficult to articulate. An ideology ofpeace is alien to the Western concept ofwar, in which peace is seen simply as therelative absence of war. One emerging

global view is that peace is the naturalstate of man and is worthy of securing inits own right. The yearning for a time ofinnocence can best be explained by citingthe profound cultural despair felt through-out the world as a consequence of the longCold War, famine, crime, disease, overpop-ulation and a general sense of social disin-tegration. It is thus within the realm ofpossibility that the old ideology of statenationalism will be supplanted by an ide-ology of peace. It would be extremely naiveto believe that such a blissful state of exis-tence could actually be attained. Whatconcerns us is the U.N. belief that such astate might be possible and is thereforeworth striving for.

Cohen and Gooch have also pointed outthat armies can fail because of theirinability to adapt, both functionally andorganizationally, to the future. The U.S.armed forces are only slowly adapting to afuture dominated by a resurgent globalismand an increasing commitment to opera-tions other than war. The 1993 “Bottom-up Review” gave only a token genuflectionto OOTW, placing its greatest emphasison major regional conflict. The reportacknowledged that as many as 50,000troops would be allocated to OOTW. How-ever, these, mostly Army troops, whileconstituting three percent of the total DoDarmed strength, have been allocated $3million, just 1/800,000 of FY 94’s DoD bud-get. Dollar shortfalls like this must bemade up from other accounts such astraining and readiness. One could argue,at least from a budgetary standpoint, thatDoD is not fully adapting to the future ofglobal reconstruction.

For its part, the Army follows DoD in itsgeneral orientation toward major regionalconflict. The revised FM 100-5 affirms theArmy’s purpose as one of war deterrenceand war-fighting. The doctrinal emphasison deterrence and war-fighting is a natu-ral and justified reflection of a classicaltheory of war dating as far back as thetime of Napoleon. For the future, theArmy will need a doctrine based morefirmly on a theory of peace and on a newdefinition of victory. President Bill Clintonexpressed as much in his address to the

April 1995 7

graduating class at West Point in 1993:“You will be called upon in many ways inthis new era to keep the peace, to relievesuffering, to help teach officers from newdemocracies in the ways of a democraticarmy and still ... to win our wars.” Thepresident might just as easily have spokenthese words to Army Special Forces. Theyare the Army’s “hinge” between wagingpeace and winning wars, a hinge that willturn the Army into the future.

Kennedy’s visionPresident John F. Kennedy envisioned a

broad role for Special Forces that extend-ed beyond unconventional warfare. ForKennedy, the green beret signified morethan an elite unit — it symbolized a fun-damental break with the past, necessitat-ed by the Cold War. Kennedy saw the ColdWar as a war of ideas. In the Cold War theobjective would become the hearts andminds of the people. To wage this strugglesuccessfully, the U.S. needed a capabilityof dealing with other nations on a people-to-people basis. In only the second nation-al security action memorandum of hispresidency, Kennedy implemented thisvision by establishing what became essen-tially the civil arm of Special Forces, thePeace Corps. Together, Special Forces andthe Peace Corps would deploy and fight onan ideological battlefield.

The Special Forces characteristics thatKennedy found so valuable during the ide-ological struggle of the Cold War are pre-cisely the same as those required in tomor-row’s struggle for peace. For Kennedy, fiveessentials made Special Forces the pre-eminent global, people-to-people organiza-tion. First, they possessed a unique lan-guage capability. Second, they possessed aburning interest in every aspect of theirprofession. Third, they had the mental dis-cipline and the perseverance to follow acourse of action that would achieve resultsonly in the long term and under conditionsof great chaos and ambiguity. Fourth, theydemonstrated a trustworthiness anddependability under minimal commandguidance. Finally, Kennedy believed thathighly intelligent and motivated soldiers

who were competent in the language andculture of a given country gave SpecialForces the unique capability of operatingwith a wide range of peoples. These essen-tial Special Forces characteristics also con-stitute unique solutions to the problems ofthe future.

Insurance policyDuring global reconstruction, the pat-

tern of operations will most nearly resem-ble operations such as Restore Hope,Restore Democracy and Provide Comfort.In these operations, Special Forces playeda key peacekeeping and peace-enforce-ment role that prevented the escalation ofviolence to full-blown war and the laterneed for a massive conventional troopcommitment. The essential function ofSpecial Forces is to provide a kind ofinvestment or insurance policy against thecommitment of conventional forces at alater date.

In October 1961 when PresidentKennedy was confronted with a series ofoptions concerning Vietnam, he saw theinitial employment of Special Forces asthe payment of an insurance premiumthat would ensure the integrity of his con-ventional force structure in Europe. InVietnam, the cost of the premium escalat-ed so fast that additional conventionalground troops had to be spent to ensurethe integrity of the conventional forces inEurope. If the insurance analogy is cor-rect, then conditions in Bosnia-Herzegov-ina, for example, suggest a major commit-ment of Special Forces before a largedeployment of U.S. conventional forces.The leveraged payment of a Special Forces“premium” initially ensures the integrityand the coherence of our conventionalforces in the event of major hostilitieslater.

The insurance analogy suggests a fur-ther implication for the future: the U.S.armed forces are woefully underinsured.History suggests that during periods ofmajor geopolitical transformation, theexpenditure of one unit trained in OOTWensures the integrity and the coherence ofthree conventional units. Throughout our

8 Special Warfare

own Reconstruction, roughly one-third ofthe U.S. Army was deployed in the South.This figure represents about 20,000 offi-cers and men who were organized into 10to 12 regiments. If history is any guide, wecan expect that in the future, at least one-third of our forces will be involved in peaceoperations at any given time, and weshould be paying a premium in SpecialForces strength at a rate of one-third ofour overall ground strength. In otherwords, we need approximately one SpecialForces group for every Army and Marinedivision.

ImplicationsThe central challenge of the future for

Special Forces is to become the insuranceagent of the Army, and perhaps even ofthe armed forces. From a practical stand-point, this suggests several implicationsfor Special Forces and for the rest of theArmy. First, Special Forces are ideallysuited to conduct peacekeeping operationsunder Chapter 6 of the U.N. Charter. Suchoperations include observer missions,cease-fire monitoring, support activities,war-zone stabilization, light border moni-toring, supervision of cease-fires betweenirregular forces, maintenance of law andorder, protection of humanitarian-reliefagencies, and the guarantee and denial ofthe right of passage. Assumption of theseor similar Chapter 6 peacekeeping mis-sions by Special Forces would preserve theconventional integrity of our regularforces.

Second, the Army needs additional Spe-cial Forces, probably as many as four moregroups. In the future, the Army and DoDwill be confronted by a fundamentaldilemma: Either continue to invest in thesubstantial overhead of a heavy conven-tional force that will have its designedcapability increasingly eroded as itassumes more and more peace operations;or reduce the conventional overhead infavor of Special Forces tailored for peaceoperations, while preserving a lethal coreconventional capability. Special Forcesgroups must exploit their versatility,expandability and augmentation potential.

A conventionally augmented SpecialForces group would then be postured toconduct the more lethal operations of apeace-enforcement environment. Suchaugmentation could include light armor,light infantry and light artillery, as wellas engineer and attack helicopters. Whenproperly augmented, the SF group cangenerate a major operational and evenstrategic presence. The tremendous lever-aging capability of augmented SpecialForces means that a small, initial invest-ment of troops could reap a huge payoff inoperational and strategic effect later.

Third, Special Forces must more clearlydefine themselves as the Army’s premierpeople-to-people service branch. The Armyat large seems to view Special Forces asprimarily another direct-action componentof special-operations forces, but SpecialForces’ rich lineage and tradition suggesta much broader capability. All of thearmed forces must be made fully aware ofthe significant contribution Special Forcesmake in operations other than war.

Fourth, Special Forces must develop astrategic-deception capability. With the

April 1995 9

U.S. Army photo

Augmentation such asattack helicopters wouldallow Special Forcesgroups to increase theiroperational and strategicpresence.

signals technology now available, a Spe-cial Forces group can simulate the signalsfootprint of a much larger conventionalforce. The simulated force can have amajor deterrent effect during peacekeep-ing and peace-enforcement operations, aswell as during wartime. When confrontinga technologically inferior opponent, theinfluence of strategic deception alone canbe decisive.

Fifth, Special Forces must exploit theemerging technology of nonlethal weapon-ry, including lasers, microwaves, soundwaves, light waves, electromagneticimpulses, microbes, chemicals and evencomputer viruses. One can readily imag-ine an SF soldier typing away at a com-puter keyboard, when with the punch of akey, he takes down the entire energy gridor banking structure of an enemy country.

Sixth, the Army must foster a greaterSpecial Forces staff presence, especially inJ-3 and J-5 positions. Special Forcesshould have proponency for the J-5 posi-tion during peace operations. It is whollyconceivable that the J-5 of a joint taskforce deployed on peacekeeping missionscould become the U-3 of a superior U.N.command headquarters. The nature ofpeace operations clearly requires a differ-ent staff perspective and perhaps evenprocedures different from those of conven-tional warfare.

Finally, the intellectual focal point ofPresident Kennedy’s vision for SpecialForces must be preserved and furthersharpened. Kennedy envisioned the SFsoldier as a modern ninja who would usehis mind as a lever to concentrate thepower of his weapons. During this time ofglobal reconstruction, Special Forces willbecome the fulcrum of the Army.

James J. Schneider is pro-fessor of military theory atthe School of Advanced Mil-itary Studies, U.S. ArmyCommand and GeneralStaff College, Fort Leaven-worth, Kan. He has taughtand written extensively on military theory,especially as it relates to issues concerning

strategy, operational art and tactics. Priorto his appointment to SAMS in 1984,Schneider spent four years as an opera-tions research analyst with the AnalysisCenter of the Army Training and DoctrineCommand. He served three years in theArmy as a tanker, including a year in Viet-nam with the 1st Infantry Division. Heattended the University of Wisconsin atOshkosh and the University of SouthernCalifornia. He holds a Ph.D. in Russianhistory from the University of Kansas.

10 Special Warfare

During the Persian Gulf War, somecritics chided the intelligence communityfor not delivering timely, accurate andreliable information to the appropriatedecision-makers.

This was not the case with Task ForceFreedom in Kuwait City. Although theirintelligence resources were limited, theelements of the task force coordinatedtheir activities and were able to collect,analyze and disseminate Civil Affairsinformation. The task-force commanderused this information to support his deci-sion-making process.

In December 1990, the author’s ArmyReserve unit, the 304th Civil Affairs Groupof Philadelphia, Pa., mobilized for DesertStorm. By February 1991, the unit wasassigned to Civil Affairs Task Force-Kuwait. The CATF was part of Task ForceFreedom, whose mission was to assistKuwait City in restoring its essential ser-vices destroyed during the Iraqi occupation.

NetworkingThe intelligence section, or G-2, of the

Civil Affairs Task Force was charged withmonitoring the equitable distribution of foodand with monitoring reported human-rightsviolations. To accomplish these tasks, theG-2 section networked with intelligenceassets of Task Force Freedom, such as the513th MI Brigade, and with intelligenceassets of other military units in the area,

including the 8th Marine Regiment and the3rd and 5th Special Forces Groups. The G-2also cross-checked information gatheredfrom task-force CA assessment teams withinformation that the other assets receivedthrough their contacts with the populace.

The CA Task Force disseminated its col-lection and analysis information at a dailybriefing for all the participants of TaskForce Freedom. This briefing providedmuch-needed information that was notreadily available elsewhere. The audienceincluded the medical and engineer com-mands that were conducting assessmentsof the viability of Kuwait City’s essentialservices.

CA information relates to a specific areain which military forces are operating andto the civilian populace in that area. The G-2 section of the Civil Affairs Task Forceacted as a collection point for CA informa-tion — its staff debriefed the various CAteams returning from their assessmentsand gleaned information from the teams’situation reports. This information, in turn,was consolidated into the G-2 portion of theCA Task Force situation report and wasdistributed vertically (to U.S. Army Forces-Central Command) and horizontally (to theother components of Task Force Freedom).

Neighborhood reportsAs a result of collating the information

received from its CA assessment teams

Civil AffairsInformation Collection in Kuwait City

by Lt. Col. Michael J. Cleary

April 1995 11

and conducting daily staff meetings, theG-2 section of the Civil Affairs Task Forcegenerated a daily neighborhood assess-ment report regarding the threat situationin the various neighborhoods of KuwaitCity. Each neighborhood was assigned ared, amber or green code to indicate itsparticular threat condition. Because theCivil Affairs Task Force and its collateralagencies were constantly venturing intothe city, they needed to know which neigh-borhoods were safe (green) and which onesweren’t. Again, the daily briefing becamethe vehicle by which this threat informa-tion was disseminated to the task force.The agencies in the audience were thusable to provide their respective units withtimely, accurate and reliable information.In fact, the information was processedfrom collector to decision-maker in about12 hours, cutting the normal cycle in half.

The following example illustrates howinformation reached the decision-maker ina timely manner: The Kuwaiti govern-ment planned to conduct a “sweep” forweapons in the Palestinian neighborhoodof Hawalli. The CATF, acting on informa-tion received from the assessment teams,reported to the government that the sweepwould probably be met by armed resis-

tance and advised against it. Influencedby this information, the Kuwaiti govern-ment called off the sweep.

FM 41-10 states that a collection plan isto be used as a means of prioritizing infor-mation needed for processing. The neigh-borhood assessment report also designatedcertain priority intelligence requirements,or PIRs:1. What is the status of available food and

water supplies throughout the city?2. Will there be a general increase in crim-

inal activity as a result of the Iraqioccupation of Kuwait?

3. What hazards do assessment teamsface? What are the locations of equip-ment, weapons caches and ordnance?

As assessment teams spread throughoutthe city, the populace disclosed valuableinformation to them. The teams immedi-ately plugged that information into thecollection plan in an effort to answer thequestions posed by the PIRs.

Iraqi equipment and documents discov-ered by one assessment team were inven-toried and turned over to the 513th MIBrigade, where they could be exploited fortheir intelligence value. Another team dis-covered a piece of Iraqi communications

12 Special Warfare

Essential Kuwaiti servicessuch as this desalinizationplant in Kuwait City suf-fered extensive damagesduring the Gulf War.

DoD photo

equipment at a Kuwait City bank. Theteam reported the find to the G-2, whichinventoried the item and transferred it tothe 513th MI Brigade.

CoordinationCollection and dissemination of CA

information call for close coordinationbetween Civil Affairs and military intelli-gence assets. The intel assets of TaskForce Freedom successfully integratedtheir limited resources. The G-2 coordinat-ed with the 513th MI Brigade, the 8thMarine Regiment and the Armed ForcesMedical Intelligence Command. TheAFMIC assessed the viability of KuwaitCity’s hospitals and medical clinics. TheG-2 section also interfaced throughoutKuwait City with teams from the 3rd and5th Special Forces Groups, to verify andexchange information. Coordinationproved useful in verifying information andhelped minimize miscommunication, dis-semination of conflicting data and compe-tition between activities.

A successful coordination effort devel-oped between an officer from the ArmedForces Medical Intelligence Command andpersonnel from the 5th Special ForcesGroup. The AFMIC officer “piggybacked”with medical teams while they were per-forming their missions. On one occasion,the medical team and the AFMIC officerdiscovered that the Iraqis had used cityhospitals to store military equipment of nomedical value. They promptly reported theinformation to the CA legal team, whichdetermined that the use of medical facili-ties was inappropriate and possibly ahuman-rights violation.

ConclusionDuring Desert Storm, the G-2 section of

the Civil Affairs Task Force coordinatedits limited resources in order to maximizeits information-gathering capability. Dur-ing the process, the G-2 learned a numberof lessons:

• Intelligence assets from several agen-cies can be pooled to collect information,although their missions differ.

• Civil Affairs information is people

information. When mingling with the pop-ulace, CA teams, by their very nature,passively collect data that conventionalintelligence resources would otherwise notconsider essential.

• CA information must be disseminatedin a timely manner for it to be useful to itsconsumers. Hence, a mechanism must beput into place to collate specifically CAinformation and to disseminate the infor-mation to those agencies within and out-side the special-operations communitywhere it will be useful.

• To collect CA-unique information, theCA teams must develop a working rela-tionship with other agencies within thetask force. CA teams must also interfacewith their special-operations counterparts,especially the Special Forces groupsdeployed in the same areas as the CAteams.

Lt. Col. Michael J. Cleary,an Army Reserve officer, isthe G-2 for the 358th CivilAffairs Brigade, Norristown,Pa. In his civilian occupa-tion he serves as a prosecu-tor. During Operation DesertStorm, he was the deputy G-2 for the CivilAffairs Task Force-Kuwait. He also servedin Operation Just Cause in Panama in1991, and he served with the UnitedNations force in JTF Haiti in 1993. Dur-ing Operation Uphold Democracy in Haitiin 1994, he served as adviser to theHaitian minister of justice. He holds MOS35E, counterintelligence, and is a graduateof the Military Intelligence OfficerAdvanced Course, the Foreign Area OfficerCourse and the Civil Affairs OfficerCourse. He holds a master’s degree inpolitical science from Villanova University.

April 1995 13

During the Bush administration, theUnited States was forced to addressnumerous conflicts in other nations and todecide whether to intervene, when tointervene, and how to intervene with mili-tary forces.

What follows is an attempt to describethis decision-making process from the per-spective of a participant-observer and torecord observations that can be treated ashypotheses for future research.1 It is limit-ed to the consideration of post-Cold Warethnic, nationalist and separatist conflicts,or EN&SC, from around 1991 to January1993.2 The essay includes cases of “dogsthat didn’t bark”; e.g., conflicts in Sudan,Moldova and Tajikistan, in which inter-vention was a theoretical possibility butnever a serious option. It also attempts toaccount for the strikingly low number ofcases about intervention termination.

ConflictsThe most obvious, yet central, charac-

teristic of post-Cold War conflicts is thatthey do not take place in the context ofsuperpower competition. The twin impli-cations of this fact are paradoxical. On theone hand, absent a Cold War calculus,U.S. interests perceived to be at stake in agiven EN&SC typically are seen to belower than they might have been duringthe Cold War: As the connection betweenstrife in far-off places and U.S. national

security or other vital interests hasbecome more problematic, the case forU.S. intervention in any given situationhas become less compelling. One need onlycontrast Angola and Afghanistan withLiberia and Tajikistan. On the other hand,absent a superpower competitor, the per-ceived risks of intervention likewise seemto be lower: We no longer have to worryabout confronting Soviet surrogates andthe possibility that U.S. intervention couldescalate into a superpower confrontationand conflict.3 This combination of lowerstakes and lower risks tends to makeintervention decisions more idiosyncraticand even less predictable than they wereduring the Cold War.

Another consequence of the end of theCold War is that classic cases of inter-state aggression are being supplanted byethnic, nationalist and separatistconflicts.4 As previously mentioned, theU.S. interests at stake in such conflictsare more ambiguous. Additionally, thepolitical and legal grounds for interven-tion in such conflicts are unfamiliar andcontroversial. Traditionally, there hasbeen a strong presumption in U.S. foreignpolicy against “interference in the internalaffairs of others.” This presumption isreinforced by objections from governmentswhose political support we increasinglyrequire, governments that may be worriedabout establishing precedents whichmight affect them in the future. Finally,

14 Special Warfare

Intervention Decision-making Duringthe Bush Administration: Deciding Where to Go In and When to Get Out

by Arnold Kanter

the basis in international law for interven-ing in EN&SC often is problematic. Thatis important, because countries whosepolitical support we seek often will insiston a solid international legal rationale forthe proposed course of action.

Such political and legal considerationsloom large in U.S. decision-making aboutwhether to intervene and how to intervenein EN&SC precisely because the end ofthe Cold War increased the political needfor support from other countries and elimi-nated our strongest claim on that support.For evidence of the importance that theU.S. attaches to multinational support forintervention and of the price paid in thecoin of constraints on U.S. action, one canexamine the negotiations with our allies toestablish “no-fly zones” over northern andsouthern Iraq and to respond militarily toIraqi defiance of U.N. inspection teams.

ParadoxPlowing the unfamiliar ground of

EN&SC also gives rise to what might becalled the “paradox of policy principles.”There is considerable value, if not a clearnecessity, in articulating some principlesto guide intervention decisions. Theseprinciples are necessary for furnishinginternal guidance to the bureaucracy andproviding public rationales that explainthe intervention decisions taken or not

taken. During this early stage of the post-Cold War world, it has been difficult, if notimpossible, to articulate a set of principlesthat the United States is prepared toapply and invoke consistently. Neverthe-less, decisions have to be made, explainedand defended.

For example, if we are prepared touphold (or restore) democracy in Haiti,why will we not do so in Angola, much lessin Georgia? If we are prepared to inter-vene in Somalia in an attempt to end thestarvation, why are we not willing to dothe same in Sudan or in Burundi? If wesupport the principle of self-determina-tion, why do we oppose the secession ofNagorno-Karabakh, Trans-Dniester, etc.,from the entities that emerged out of thebreakup of the Soviet Union? How do wereconcile our support for the principle ofself-determination with our own CivilWar? (This is a question Russian officialsare delighted to ask.)

This “paradox of policy principles” prob-ably is explainable by reference to the nov-elty of dealing with EN&SC in the post-Cold War world and the ambiguity of U.S.interests at stake in any such conflict.Whatever the reasons, the paradox impos-es both internal and external costs. Inter-nally, the absence of a relatively consis-tent set of decision guidelines adds to theconfusion and controversy surrounding

April 1995 15

Members of the forwardcomponent of OperationProvide Comfort movethrough a valley in northernIraq under the protection ofthe no-fly zone.

DoD photo

any intervention issue. Externally, theabsence of a stable set of principles thatcan be invoked contributes to accusationsof inconsistency and hypocrisy.

The central features of the post-ColdWar world have made the decision-makingprocess related to intervention issuesmore complicated and less orderly. Whilethere always has been some finite proba-bility that a decision about whether or notto intervene could have gone the otherway, today that uncertainty has substan-tially increased and has potentially signif-icant implications regarding our ability todeter EN&SC.

CharacteristicsIf the uncharted territory of the post-

Cold War world provided the context with-in which intervention issues were consid-ered by the Bush administration, perhapsit is not surprising that the decision-mak-ing process itself was somewhat less thanorderly and well-structured. The followingcharacteristics of that process can serve ashypotheses for future research.

1. The manner by which “candidates” forintervention are added to the decisionagenda is relatively idiosyncratic and

unpredictable. As the contrasting respons-es to the seemingly similar Somalia andSudan cases suggest, media coverage canhave a significant impact and helps putthe issue on the agenda of senior decision-makers. Moreover, intensive media cover-age all but compels senior-level decision-makers to address the issue. As theBosnia case illustrates, however, mediacoverage can substantially increase thechances of an issue appearing on the deci-sion agenda, but it does not necessarilylead to a decision to intervene.

Ad hoc, self-generated assessments byofficials about “what is at stake” areanother way in which candidates for inter-vention are selected and rise to the top ofthe decision agenda. For example, the ebband flow in U.S. policy toward the conflictin the former Yugoslavia can be explainedin part by the issue being variouslydefined as a humanitarian tragedy, a testof NATO in the post-Cold War world, atest of the European Community’s abilityto act, a test of U.S. leadership, a risk ofspillover and escalation, an importantprecedent for dealing with EN&SC in thepost-Cold War world, and a clear signal toRussia about the constraints on its actionstoward breakaway republics. The process

16 Special Warfare

United Nations photo

A member of a U.N. peace-keeping force stops to talkto two children. Imagesportrayed in the media canhave a significant impacton public perception andcan force decision-makersto address a situation.

of defining issues also depends on factorssuch as who has access to senior-leveldecision-makers, who reads what, whotalks with whom, and even the sequencein which seemingly diverse issues areaddressed.

2. Although the identity of the partici-pants is fairly stable and predictable, thedecision-making process itself is fairly adhoc. To some extent, this feature is simplya reflection of the decision-making processwith respect to any important issue, par-ticularly intervention decisions that arenonroutine and often take place in a crisisatmosphere. It also is a reflection of thestill-developing intervention policy. Weare still adapting to a new world order inthe post-Cold War world, and there arecentral questions about how various U.S.interests are engaged and how we shouldtry to protect or advance them. We arenow in an inductive, learning-from-experi-ence mode, with little precedent, muchless policy, to serve as a guide to action.

It is important to add that learningalmost certainly is taking place. Not onlyis there a growing body of precedent as weface more and more intervention deci-sions, but the criteria and checklists —the questions that must be asked andanswered with respect to potential inter-ventions — are becoming increasinglystandardized.

3. The decision-making process withrespect to intervention issues frequentlybegins at relatively senior levels and worksup from there. During the Bush adminis-tration, issues related to the basic policydecisions about whether or not to inter-vene with U.S. forces often were initiallyaddressed by the Deputies Committee.Frequently, these senior-level interagencydeliberations were not supported by sub-stantial staffing or written analysesbecause of several factors, including timeconstraints and a fear of leaks.

The issues then were referred to cabi-net-level officials for consideration beforebeing presented to the president for deci-sion. Decisions that emerged often seemedto be surprising, abrupt changes in policy.The decision to send a 30,000 man force toSomalia is a vivid case in point.

4. The process by which the militaryframes the issue and formulates its assess-ment and advice is a “black box” to mostparticipants outside the Pentagon. Thecivilian leadership in the Office of theSecretary of Defense may not be muchbetter informed. Although the Joint Staffroutinely tasks the relevant command(s)for assessments, recommendations andplans, it is not clear how much — or whatkind of — guidance and context is provid-ed with that tasking. It likewise isunclear how much and what kinds ofinformal communications between thefield and Washington take place in serviceand other military channels.

5. There are relatively stable and distin-guishable “agency perspectives” on issuesrelated to intervention. Despite the pitfallsof generalizations, it nevertheless is possi-ble to characterize broadly the positionswhich the key organizations tend to adopt.

The State Department tends to be morewilling than the other participants tothreaten and to deploy and employ mili-tary forces. The State Department alsotends to be more willing to take risksthan the other participants do. In part,this is a corollary to the observation thatthe State Department does not pay theprice of military interventions, be theysuccessful or unsuccessful. But it proba-bly also is a reflection of a bureaucratictactic to make intervention options moreattractive by reducing their apparentforce requirements.5

Both civilian and military members ofthe Pentagon tend to be much more con-servative on use-of-force issues.6 This isparticularly true of the JCS representa-tives.7 They typically insist that militaryforces should be deployed only if the presi-dent is ready actually to use force. In con-trast to the State Department, whichviews the threat and the use of force as acomplement to other foreign-policy instru-ments, the Pentagon is more likely to viewthe use of force as a last resort; i.e., whendiplomacy and other policy instrumentshave been tried and have failed.

In addition, JCS representatives typical-ly argue that if the U.S. is going to commitmilitary forces, it should be prepared to

April 1995 17

bring overwhelming force to bear.8 In part,this position reflects a thoroughly under-standable desire to ensure victory. It proba-bly also reflects an effort to minimize casu-alties by intimidating would-be opponentsand discouraging engagements. Finally,JCS representatives clearly understandthat intervention options entailing largeforce requirements have the practical polit-ical effect of virtually ruling out militaryintervention.9

6. Personalities matter. If the foregoingreflects the truism of bureaucratic behav-ior that “Where you stand depends onwhere you sit,” there is a related truismthat the higher you go in an organization,the less you can predict positions on issuesfrom a knowledge of organizational mem-bership. Given the decision-making pro-cess described above, however, the person-al beliefs, experiences and perceptions ofthe participants played an unusually largerole in the decisions that emerged.

In understanding U.S. policy towardBosnia, for example, one needs to give fullweight to the lessons learned by BrentScowcroft and Lawrence Eagleburger,from their respective tours of duty inYugoslavia,10 to Gen. Colin Powell’s viewson the use of force and the commitment offorces, and to President Bush’s determina-tion not to put U.S. ground forces intoBosnia under virtually any circumstances.President Bush was strongly inclined toaccept military recommendations regard-ing the forces required to accomplish themission he had given them and to grantbroad operational latitude in the conductof that mission. Powell brought not onlyhis forceful personality to the process butalso the healthy discipline of regularlyinsisting on an answer to the question:“What is the military objective we are try-ing to accomplish?”

7. “Slippery slopes” are a frequent sourceof concern, in part because they reallyexist. One of the arguments regularlyinvoked in interagency debates to opposeU.S. military involvement in an EN&SC isthat our role, however modest initially,will start us down an uncontrollable “slip-pery slope” to growing political responsi-bility for the outcomes that emerge and for

the increasing military intervention toensure satisfactory outcomes. Put differ-ently, there is concern that we will losecontrol of our stakes and therefore of ourinvolvement. An important corollary isthat it becomes increasingly difficult toterminate U.S. military involvement shortof having achieved success or having setan arbitrary deadline for withdrawal.

Although these slippery-slope argumentsmay be invoked by bureaucratic partici-pants who are opposed to U.S. interventionfor other reasons, there is enough real-world experience to preclude simply dis-missing such objections out of hand. Soma-lia provides a good illustration. The U.S.airlift of relief supplies to a handful ofSomali airfields seemed to be a relativelymodest operation with clear limits, but itpaved the way for the U.S.-led UnitedNations International Task Force, orUNITAF. Given the overwhelming U.S.role in and responsibility for UNITAF, itproved to be virtually impossible politicallyto do a clean hand-off to the United NationsOperation in Somalia, or UNISOM.

It is easy to imagine how the U.S. couldhave found itself on an analogous slipperyslope in Bosnia. In early 1992, the U.S.and several of its NATO allies reached aconsensus to initiate an airlift of reliefsupplies to Sarajevo. Such an airliftrequired that the Sarajevo airport bereopened, which, in turn, necessitated thedeployment of air controllers, other techni-cians and experts, and a security force toprotect them; i.e., a contingent totalingseveral hundred military personnel. TheU.S. was prepared to provide this on-the-ground capability, but the French pre-empted the U.S. deployment with a con-tingent of their own.11

8. Concerns about slippery slopesnotwithstanding, planning, paradoxically,is often shortsighted. Lack of foresightmay be due in part to a tendency to dis-count slippery-slope objections to interven-tion as being little more than ways of cov-ering for other, often unstated, objections.Thus, if a decision is made to intervene,the worries, concerns and risks expressedby those who have been overruled tend tobe forgotten or ignored.

18 Special Warfare

9. Decision-making is probabilistic andcontext-dependent. It was argued abovethat the combination of the lower risks andthe reduced stakes that characterize U.S.intervention options in the post-Cold Warworld makes it increasingly difficult to pre-dict what the United States will decide andhow it will respond in any given instance.Most of the characteristics of the decision-making process described here add to thatuncertainty. The decision to intervene inSomalia in late 1992 with nearly 30,000American troops surprised most people,inside as well as outside the government.It is likely that even the decision to takemilitary action to drive the Iraqis out ofKuwait was neither certain nor obvious tomost people outside President Bush’s innercircle before it was announced. The netresult of such unpredictability — rein-forced by a long list of cases in which wedid not intervene, e.g., Sudan, Georgia,Tajikistan, Nagorno-Karabakh, Bosnia —is that it undermines the deterrent effectof our threats to intervene.

Guidelines for decisionNo set of formal policy guidelines for

intervention decisions existed during the

Bush administration.12 Nevertheless, it ispossible to infer from the record severalinformal rules of thumb that the adminis-tration used to structure the issues itfaced and to inform the choices it made.

1. Do not intervene — especially on theground — absent high confidence that theintervention will be relatively brief andinexpensive and that it will cause minimalcasualties and collateral damage. Thisguideline reflects the intersection ofambiguous (but clearly less-than-vital)stakes and uncertain domestic politicalsupport for intervention. Quick, clean andcheap interventions are more likely to becommensurate with the stakes and areunlikely to generate significant domesticpolitical problems. Conversely, theprospects for sustaining domestic politicalsupport over an extended period of time —especially as things go wrong, setbacksoccur and costs mount — usually appearforeboding.

2. Do not intervene unless there is a highprobability of success. This guideline addsanother condition to the ones listed above:namely, if we intervene, we need to win orotherwise succeed. The implication of thisadded condition is that we should not

April 1995 19

A U.S. Air Force crewunloads a shipment of foodsupplies during relief oper-ations in Somalia.

DoD photo

intervene simply to raise the price ofaggression or to send a message to would-be aggressors. An important corollary isthat the perceived cost of a failed interven-tion always is seen to exceed the cost ofinaction, both at home and with respect todeterrence of future EN&SC. This per-spective creates a strong presumption thatit is better to take no action than tolaunch an intervention that risks failure.Finally, the application of this guidelinetends to equate the conditions for termi-nating the intervention with success; i.e.,the intervention typically must continueuntil we win. A distant second choice is toset a fixed, but essentially arbitrary, dead-line for withdrawal.

3. Avoid congressional involvement inthe decision-making process. The reluc-tance in involving — as contrasted withinforming — Congress stems in part froma view about the respective roles of theexecutive and legislative branches in for-eign policy.13 It also is the result of a prag-matic calculation that to involve Congressis to impose the requirement thatCongress support, rather than merelyacquiesce in, the proposed intervention.14

At best, congressional support will resultin a loss of presidential flexibility. Of

course, Congress could well impose otherconditions. Taken together, theseprospects tend to discourage U.S. involve-ment in contingencies that carry withthem a significant probability of congres-sional involvement.15

4. Minimize the need for political sup-port and the risk of negative political con-sequences. This guideline is an extensionof the one above and is motivated by manyof the same considerations. Paradoxically,the desire to avoid having an interventionissue become fodder for political punditsprobably is strengthened as a consequenceof the growing importance of domesticpolitical considerations in foreign policy.16

Put simply, the greater the chances of con-troversy, the lower the probability that theU.S. will intervene and the higher the pre-mium on keeping the intervention quick,clean and cheap.

5. Insist that U.S. involvement is quali-tatively different in political terms. Thepublic justification for this position is thatbecause the U.S. is the world’s onlyremaining superpower, its participation —especially any casualties it might suffer orinflict — has distinctive implications andconsequences. U.S. involvement, therefore,should be the exception rather than the

20 Special Warfare

U.S. Army photo

Defense Secretary DickCheney visits Gen.Maxwell Thurman followingOperation Just Cause.Such unilateral operationsas Just Cause maybecome rare exceptions tothe rule of operationsauthorized by the U.N.

rule, and it is perfectly appropriate for ourgovernment to urge and expect others togo where our forces will not. This rationalewas invoked to help explain why the Unit-ed States would not contribute observerson the ground in Bosnia to help monitorthe “no-fly zone” established by the U.N.Security Council.17 Whatever its legitima-cy, the result of this perspective is the cre-ation of yet another presumption againstU.S. involvement.

6. Avoid committing U.S. ground forces.This guideline usually is applied by insist-ing that U.S. contributions be limited to asituation in which they would be unique.Typically, it has been interpreted to referto unique American military capabilities,e.g.; strategic lift, intelligence and commu-nications.18 The clear implication is thatthe U.S. has no comparative advantage inthe ground forces who might be requiredas part of an intervention force; therefore,it would expect others to contribute thesecapabilities. The desired effect of thisguideline is to increase the chances thatthe U.S. role, if not the overall interven-tion, will meet the standards of quick,cheap and clean.

7. Retain operational control over U.S.combat forces, particularly ground combatforces. In part, this guideline reflects theincreased stakes that result from the com-mitment of U.S. forces. It also reflectsgreater confidence in U.S. military leader-ship, certainly as compared to Third Worldcommanders. Finally, it reflects an appre-ciation of the fact that the president will beheld responsible for American casualties,no matter under whose command theyoccur. However, the president will likely bemore severely criticized if casualties occurwhile Americans are carrying out theorders of a foreign commander.

This guideline has the potentially per-verse consequence of making U.S. militaryparticipation tantamount to an all-or-nothing proposition. If the U.S. insiststhat its forces serve only under U.S. com-manders during an intervention, thenother potential contributors may expectand, in any event, will argue that the U.S.should contribute the bulk of the forces.Therefore, if, for whatever reason, the

U.S. determines that its forces should par-ticipate in an intervention, we will beunder considerable pressure to play a sub-stantial role.

8. Secure authorization by the U.N. oranother international organization. In thepost-Cold War world, in which only less-than-vital interests are militarily threat-ened, unilateral interventions such asJust Cause may increasingly become rareexceptions to the rule of operations autho-rized by U.N. Security Council resolutions.In part, this is a requirement imposed byour allies as a condition of their participa-tion (see below). Also, it is a conditionimposed by the political rhetoric and reali-ties at home. Whatever its origins, it is asource of additional legal and political con-straints on U.S. action.

9. Obtain multilateral participation.This dictum might be considered astraightforward corollary to the aboveguideline, but that should not obscure thefact that it imposes an additional set ofconstraints. It is one thing for an ally tooffer political support, including voting infavor of a U.N. Security Council resolu-tion, but it is another thing for the ally toagree to join with the U.S. in a militaryoperation. The price of participation islikely to be additional conditions and con-straints on the operation as well as per-haps “side payments” on other, unrelatedissues.

ConclusionsAs should be clear from the foregoing

description, there has not been (and prob-ably still is not) an orderly, formal, well-structured decision-making process thatculminates in decisions about whether ornot to intervene in the contingency athand. The distinguishing features of thepost-Cold War world, which tend to reduceboth the stakes and the risks of mostinterventions, only add to the complica-tions and confusion. It also should be clearthat the informal decision-making processthat does exist reveals relatively stablecharacteristics, and that “learning” in theform of convergence on tacit decisionguidelines and rules of thumb is occurring.

April 1995 21

The picture of the decision-making proc-ess which emerges from this examinationof the early post-Cold War period is onewhich is, paradoxically, both very insularand highly constrained by external fac-tors. It also is one which has strong, sys-temic biases against intervention. Indeed,the question is less why the U.S. decidesto intervene in any particular instancethan how it ever manages to overcomethese strong, pervasive presumptionsagainst intervention.

The most difficult and controversialissues typically concern the commitmentof U.S. ground forces. These decisions arequalitatively different from decisionsabout the commitment of “unique” U.S.capabilities, such as strategic lift andintelligence. To overstate only slightly,U.S. decision-making about intervention isabout decisions concerning the deploy-ment of U.S. ground combat forces. Final-ly, success is the primary, if not the sole,criterion for deciding when to terminatean intervention. On the one hand, this is ahigh standard which constitutes yetanother obstacle to an intervention deci-sion. On the other hand, it has profoundimplications for “termination decision-making” by making it very difficult toextricate ourselves from an interventionshort of victory.

ImplicationsThe Army finds itself in a paradoxical

situation. The decision-making processdescribed above — informal, ad hoc, high-level, insular — suggests that the Armyleadership may have little warning beforean intervention decision is made, and asmall role in making it. However, it isArmy commanders who typically arecalled upon to implement the most diffi-cult, sensitive decisions to intervene withground combat forces.

This situation poses two challenges forthe Army. The first concerns the capabili-ties that the Army may be called upon toprovide. In intervention contingencies todate, the Army has used existing forcesdesigned to meet evolving Cold War mis-sions. One question facing the Army is

whether it should develop specializedcapabilities tailored to meet the distinctiverequirements of post-Cold War EN&SC.Considering the Army’s severely con-strained resources, the development ofsuch capabilities probably would come atthe expense of capabilities to performother Army missions. Without specializedresources, however, the Army may be ill-equipped for the missions it most likelywill be called upon to perform.19

The other challenge concerns how theArmy supports the senior-level policy-makers who have been, and will continueto be, confronted with intervention choic-es. As noted above, the Army leadershipmay not substantially participate in thedecision-making process. However, themilitary options these policy-makersbelieve are available to them will have asignificant impact on the choices theymake, and the manner in which their deci-sion is implemented will have a substan-tial effect on whether U.S. political objec-tives are achieved. Bearing in mind thecharacteristics of the decision-makingprocess and the tacit decision guidelinesthat senior policy-makers are likely toemploy, the Army should considerwhether it can better provide analysis,options and implementation and how bestto anticipate the NCA’s political needs,concerns, and sensitivities related toEN&SC.

Arnold Kanter is a seniorfellow at the RAND corpora-tion. From October 1991until January 1993, heserved with the State Depart-ment as Undersecretary ofState for Political Affairs. Inthis position, he was the State Department’schief operating officer with responsibility forthe day-to-day conduct of American foreignpolicy and for crisis management. Prior toassuming his duties at the Department ofState, he served as Special Assistant to thePresident for National Security Affairs andSenior Director for Defense Policy and ArmsControl at the National Security Councilfrom 1989-91. Before entering the govern-

22 Special Warfare

ment, Kanter was a member of the staff ofthe Brookings Institution and a member ofthe faculty of Ohio State University and theUniversity of Michigan. He holds a bache-lor’s degree from the University of Michiganas well as a master’s degree and a Ph.D. inpolitical science from Yale University.

Notes:1 Given the limited objectives of this essay, which

was drafted in the spring of 1994, no effort was madeto conduct interviews or to research primary and sec-ondary source material. That said, there is every rea-son to believe that observations the essay recordsprobably are generalizable, rather than being pecu-liar to the Bush administration. Both for that reason,and as a stylistic convenience, it is written in thepresent tense.

2 On the one hand, Operation Desert Shield/DesertStorm falls outside the boundaries of EN&SC. On theother hand, the ODS experience is relevant to an anal-ysis of EN&SC decision-making if only because it isregularly invoked as a successful model and precedentwhen EN&SC interventions are being considered.

3 An important residual of Cold War thinkingremains. There has been great sensitivity aboutbecoming involved in any conflict which is located onthe Russian periphery or presents the likelihood ofconfronting Russian soldiers. This sensitivity all butruled out serious consideration of intervening inMoldova, Georgia and Tajikistan. Russian officialsdid not hesitate to reinforce that sensitivity by draw-ing analogies between the Monroe Doctrine and Rus-sian “responsibilities” in countries on their periph-ery; i.e., in the “near-abroad.”

4 The actual number of EN&SC probably hasincreased with the end of the Cold War and thedemise of the Soviet Union, but it is also the casethat these same factors permit — or in some casesrequire — the U.S. to pay more attention to EN&SC.

5 As will be seen below, military participantsemploy the opposite bureaucratic tactic of overstat-ing the apparent force requirements. The result ismutual suspicion and reciprocal incentives to engagein bureaucratic gaming.

6 During the Bush administration, OSD and JCSmade it a regular practice to arrive at a commonposition, which they would then jointly present in theinteragency process. This practice may have had thecollateral consequence of muting any “pro-interven-tion” proclivities among senior OSD civilians.

7 In fact, it is very difficult to distinguish betweenJCS Chairman Powell’s approach to “use of force”issues and the positions taken by JCS representa-tives who participated at lower levels in the decision-making process.

8 At the same time, JCS representatives oftenworry aloud about the scarcity of critical force ele-ments and the implications a proposed military oper-ation will have regarding our ability to deal withother contingencies. Likewise, the projected dollarcost of a proposed operation can be a substantial fac-

tor in deciding whether or not to proceed. The combi-nation of increasingly tight defense budgets and neg-ligible allocations for “peacekeeping” requires eitherthat other military capabilities — typically readiness— will be shortchanged to cover the costs of anunbudgeted intervention, or that the administrationpay the political price of seeking a supplementalappropriation from Congress.

9 JCS recommendations about force requirementsare rarely subject to second-guessing and carry enor-mous weight in the decision-making process, whatev-er other participants might suspect about what laybehind those stated requirements.

10 Eagleburger served as American ambassador inYugoslavia, and Scowcroft as defense attaché inBelgrade.

11 The tacit competition between the U.S. andFrance over which would provide personnel to reopenthe Sarajevo airport was a reflection of intra-alliancepolitics, intramural disputes about the “Europeansecurity and defense identity” and the respective rolesfor NATO and the EC in expressing this identity.

12 As it enters its second year in office, the Clintonadministration likewise has yet to issue a “Presiden-tial Decision Directive” with its policy guidelines.

13 Debates about the “Byrd amendment” on U.S.involvement in Somalia and the “Dole amendment”on U.S. involvement in Haiti are good contemporaryexamples of this issue.

14 Its public grumbling notwithstanding, Congressoften welcomes the opportunity not to have to take aformal position for or against controversial foreign-policy decisions, including decisions related to inter-vention.

15 Indeed, presidents sometimes establish congres-sional approval as a condition for U.S. interventionin order to avoid pressure from allies to becomeinvolved. Many analysts believe that Eisenhoweremployed this tactic to deflect a French request forassistance in Indochina. Some observers see thesame tactic at play in the administration’s insistenceon congressional approval of any deployment of U.S.ground forces in Bosnia.

16 As the Bosnia case demonstrates, inaction bythe U.S. also can become a source of political contro-versy and grist for editorial writers.

17 Undoubtedly, there were several other reserva-tions about U.S. participation, including “slipperyslope” concerns.

18 There is another sense in which U.S. capabilitiescan be unique: namely, when American participationis politically indispensable.

19 There also is the interesting question of whetherthe availability of specialized capabilities tailored tothe distinctive requirements of EN&SC would affectdecisions about whether to intervene and when toexit by changing the cost-benefit calculations ofsenior decision-makers.

April 1995 23

Given the modern battle calculus, theclassic Special Forces direct-action mis-sion — using detachments against genericpoint targets — seems to make littlesense. Air Force aircraft are capable ofpenetrating deeper and packing a morelethal load than the hardiest SF detach-ment. Aircraft strike with stunning accu-racy, and, in the case of cruise missiles,with no operator risk. Manned aircraftcarry a more sophisticated, effective arrayof designators and sensors than ArmySpecial Forces could ever hope to employ.And, as the Gulf War demonstrated, ifaerial platforms can find the target, theywill probably kill it.

So where does this reality leave SpecialForces? Are we out of the unilateraldestruction business?

Recent SF experience in the Battle Com-mand Training Program, or BCTP, sug-gests not. Our understanding of the direct-action mission, however, especially inwhat we decide to attempt, must come online with reality and the needs of the sup-ported general-purpose force, or GPF.

BackgroundFrom January through March 1994, the

2nd Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group,supported the XVIII Airborne Corps andthe 82nd Airborne Division during ramp-upcommand-post exercises and the BCTPwar-fighter CPX. While the National Train-

ing Center and the Joint Readiness Train-ing Center focus on field-training exerciseswith battalion task forces and sometimesbrigades, the BCTP trains corps and divi-sion staffs. Army SF regularly provide spe-cial-operations command-and-control ele-ments, or SOCCEs, to player GPFs inBCTP exercises.

Normally, one SF company is tasked toprovide a SOCCE. However, for this par-ticular war-fighter CPX, the 2/7th expand-ed its participation and provided two SOC-CEs, the operations center and signal cen-ter of the forward operational base, andthe SOF player cell at the battle simula-tion center. Because of the 2/7th’s involve-ment at every level in the simulation (divi-sion close fight to corps deep battle, corpsmain to brigade tactical operations cen-ters, joint special operations task force toFOB), the battalion staff had to confrontthe DA-targeting dilemma head-on.

The BCTP scenario postulated a contin-gency operation in which elements of theXVIII Airborne Corps — 82nd AirborneDivision, 101st Air Assault Division, 24thMechanized Infantry Division and 10thDivision (Light) — secured a lodgmentsuch as an airhead or a seaport and subse-quently attacked to protect the lodgment.The enemy was an artillery-heavy forceorganized along former Warsaw Pact lines(in other words, it had enough artilleryand multiple-launch rocket systems to cre-ate a moonscape).

24 Special Warfare

SF Direct Action and Targeting:Appropriate Force and Customer Satisfaction

by Lt. Col. Ed Phillips

In the ramp-up CPXs, the SF playersperformed special reconnaissance in greatdepth to provide early “decision point”warning for the corps. SR teams “comput-er identified” enemy artillery but had nocapability to interdict it. In both CPXs, the82nd’s units suffered heavy casualtiesfrom that same artillery. (During the sec-ond CPX, two brigades each suffered morethan 50-percent casualties.) Close air sup-port and MLRS counterbattery fire didn’thelp — the systems could not detect themobile artillery, which scurried intoravines and valleys after delivering devas-tating fire. This counterfire phenomenonwas not unlike the problem with mobileSCUDs that the coalition experienced dur-ing Desert Storm.

Mission criteriaDuring the after-action review for the

ramp-up CPX, the FOB staff and theSOCCE commanders asked the logicalquestions: What can we do to help theGPF? What is the GPF commander’sbiggest problem? SF units had only oneclearly specified task in the corps opera-tions plan: to provide early warning.Clearly, early warning was not enough. SF

player units had to find a better way ofsupporting the GPF.

To do this, the FOB reviewed the CPXin terms of the SOF Mission Criteria:

• Appropriate SOF mission• Supports campaign plan• Operationally feasible• Resources available• Outcome justifies riskThe FOB focused on enemy artillery as

the GPF’s biggest concern, at leastthrough D+5. The CPX review indicatedthat given some early air assets, SF spe-cial-reconnaissance and unconventional-warfare player units could help the GPF.

• First, terminal-guidance operations,or TGOs, as a form of DA are certainlyappropriate SOF missions, especiallywhen air platforms can’t locate a target ontheir own, a situation common with mobileor nonlinear targets. Indeed, it could beargued that the only appropriate DA mis-sion for the A-detachment is standoffstrike, employing aircraft or long-rangeweapons when other systems can’t find acritical target (SCUDS in the desert ormobile artillery in rough terrain in theBTCP scenario). Locating an opposingforce’s mobile theater ballistic missiles orother delivery systems that are capable of

April 1995 25

DoD photo

Although modern aerialplatforms strike with stun-ning accuracy, SOF spe-cial-reconnaissance andunconventional-warfareassets may sometimes doa better job of finding thetarget.

employing nuclear, biological and chemi-cal munitions may become extremelyappropriate (and more important) in thepost-Cold War world. National policy-mak-ers are voicing increasing concerns withthe threat such systems represent.

• Second, interdiction of the artillery inthe BCTP scenario clearly supported thecampaign plan. The 82nd Airborne Divi-sion could not survive unless the enemyartillery was damaged or destroyed early.And if the 82nd failed, so would the cam-paign plan.

• Third, the use of aerial interdiction wascertainly feasible. The SF detachmentswere already on the ground, and the U.S.enjoyed air superiority in the scenario.

• Fourth, each ODA had all theresources needed to interdict artillery,assuming that such action had been coor-dinated before their infiltration. Laserdesignators were unnecessary.

• Finally, the ODAs were at no greaterrisk than if they had performed only SRand UW missions. Artillery systems werethick on the battlefield and easy to spotfrom ground level.

Acting on this analysis and on discus-

sions with staff elements of the 82nd Air-borne Division and the XVIII AirborneCorps, the FOB developed a series ofimplied tasks. One was artillery attrition.The SOCCEs convinced the battle simula-tion center, which portrayed the theatertargeting board, of the need for artillerytargeting. From D-2 to D+2, SF directedplatforms against the enemy artillery,causing a 30-percent attrition prior to the82nd’s arrival. By D+4, the division hadsecured its objectives with minimal casu-alties, a vast improvement over the resultsof the ramp-up CPX. A decisive force mul-tiplier for both the division and corps com-manders, SF earned their pay on the com-puter battlefield, much more so than ifthey had provided early warning only.

In the BCTP simulation, the FOBaggressively pursued targets as systemsand in so doing directly assisted the XVIIIAirborne Corps in accomplishing its mis-sion. On paper, the damage to enemyartillery probably saved 2,000 U.S. lives.The GPFs were satisfied because SFdetachments located systems no otherforces could find. SF survivability was high(all computer casualties occurred duringinfiltration), because the threat wasengaged discriminately and indirectly.

Lessons learnedThere are many disconnects between

BCTP and reality: no joint task force, nodedicated theater-targeting board, andlimited air-interdiction resources. The cor-relation between the BCTP and reality isthe subject of another article, but the2/7th learned valuable lessons that will beof good use in all theaters.

Lesson one: Systems vs. grid coordi-nates — To be a viable part of the cam-paign plan, SF must be aggressive in thetargeting process. Most theater-targetingboards are, understandably, strike-air-craft-driven. We are a high-tech military.Air Force technicians studying an arrayof imagery products develop the ubiqui-tous grid-coordinate target list. Imageryidentifies fixed or linear targets, and thetargeting board assigns resources againstthe targets based on the priorities of the

26 Special Warfare

DoD photo

Air Force personnel studyimagery products to devel-op a target list. To be aviable part of the campaignplan, SF must be aggres-sively involved in the tar-geting process.

joint task force or the theater commanderin chief. The air tasking order allocatessorties, and bombs fall with computerlogic and businesslike efficiency.

While all of this fits neatly from an AirForce perspective, from an Army perspec-tive anyone knows that employment ofground forces is never business as usual.What happens to the moving targets,which may be key but cannot be located bysatellites or other technology? Even if thathigh tech succeeds in finding a mobile tar-get, the discovery is only a snapshot intime — five minutes later, the target maybe out of range.

Grid-coordinate targeting does notaddress the mobile-SCUD problem thatthe coalition experienced during DesertStorm or the mobile-artillery problem thatthe XVIII Airborne Corps experienced inthe BCTP. These problems must be lookedupon as systems, not as locations. In theplanning process, SF operational basesand FOBs must ask the following: Whatsystems concern the JTF commander orthe CINC? Which can we logically affect?How do we sell it?

Failure to focus on key systems repre-sents failure to use Army SF to theirfullest potential as a battlefield operatingsystem. Moreover, failure to offer SFemployment ideas can result in inappro-priate employment concepts from an over-worked JTF.

Lesson two: SOF-appropriate DA mis-sions, engaging the threat discriminately —JTF headquarters are busy places. A JTFcommander and his staff have hundreds of“slice” elements to synchronize. Unless SFlogically present employment alternatives,detachments may receive “afterthought”mission taskings based on the targeting-board grid-coordinate list. This “BrooklynBridge” syndrome usually occurs duringJoint Chiefs of Staff exercises: An SFdetachment receives a mission such as“Take out the bridge at coordinate X.”Often, the target in question is so low inpriority that the JTF runs out of airplanesbefore it can service it, and often the targetis as difficult to take down as the BrooklynBridge. Now, that bridge (or any similarfixed target) is not going anywhere soon.

It’s easy to find. The Air Force could knockit out easily, but the SF detachment can’tget to it with enough demolitions to do thejob.

The feasibility of such a DA mission,given the associated risk to the detach-ment, is questionable, especially whenthe Air Force can do a better job with lessrisk. It makes little sense to squander SFdetachments on targets that could be bet-ter destroyed by other BOSs. Better toidentify the niche where Army SF canprovide a service that other BOSs cannot.Again, aggressive involvement in the tar-geting and employment process is theway to ensure optimal SF use and battle-field synergy. Given the technologiesavailable, Army SF should focus onstandoff techniques in order to engagethe threat discriminately.

Lt. Col. Ed F. Phillips iscommander of the 2nd Bat-talion, 7th Special ForcesGroup. In previous assign-ments, he served as platoonleader, battalion S-1, battal-ion S-3 and company com-mander in the 82nd Airborne Division;and as detachment commander, battalionS-4, group S-4, group S-3 and companycommander in the 7th SF Group. He is agraduate of the Command and GeneralStaff College at the U.S. Army School ofthe Americas. Phillips served as an adviserin El Salvador from 1984 through 1985.

April 1995 27

28 Special Warfare

“War,” wrote the 19th-century militarytheorist Carl von Clausewitz, “is merelythe continuation of politics by othermeans.” The assumption that war existsas a normal part of the political process ofnations lies at the heart of this quotation.During Clausewitz’s time, war served as adialectic, carried on primarily by armiesand navies rather than by diplomats. Mili-tary establishments existed for two rea-sons: either to wage war or to deter war.

Much of what Clausewitz said aboutwar is relevant today. Events of the last40 years, however, have forced increasedattention to a chapter in his book On Warentitled “The People in Arms,” in which heexpounded on the role of the partisan.Drawing on Napoleon’s experiences inSpain and Russia, Clausewitz remindedhis readers that although partisans lackedthe ability to effect a decision in war, theirability to “nibble at the shell and aroundthe edges” of an opponent had frequentlyhelped set the stage for his subsequentdefeat.1 In the 20th century, Mao Tse-tungincorporated Clausewitz’s ideas about par-tisans into his own guerrilla-war theory.Since the Chinese Revolution, various cul-tural, religious and political factions haveadopted guerrilla tactics in their ownstruggles against their perceived enemies.

Frequently, these groups fight from theshadows of society, selecting targetsdesigned to undermine civilian morale.

This threat has forced the U.S. Army torethink its doctrine and to broaden itsresponse in meeting contingency demandsthat do not fit the traditional definition ofwar between nation-states. FM 100-5, Oper-ations, addresses the commitment of mili-tary forces in three distinct environments:war, conflict and peacetime.2 Whereas ourconventional armed forces center on mili-tary objectives during war, circumstancespeculiar to conflict and peacetime employ-ments frequently require that political, eco-nomic and social goals take precedence overmilitary considerations. The U.S. Army’sproblem is that its structure is configuredtoward conducting war-environment opera-tions. Conventional infantry, armor andartillery units do two things well in war:they control terrain, and they destroy theenemy’s ground forces through firepowerand mobility. In less lethal environmentstheir utility is more circumspect. Our abilityto operate in environments short of warrests largely with a group of Army soldiersknown as Special Forces.

CounterinsurgencySpecial Forces had existed for years

within the Army force structure before theVietnam War brought them public recog-nition. They were depicted as our answer

Cut from a Different Cloth:The Origins of U.S. Army Special Forces

by Joseph R. Fischer

This article originally appeared in theSpring 1994 issue of The New EnglandJournal of History.

to communist-sponsored wars of nationalliberation. Their portrayal as counterin-surgency experts represented a reversalfrom their original role:

To infiltrate ... to designated areas with-in the enemy’s sphere of influence and toorganize the indigenous guerrilla potentialon a quasi-military or a military basis fortactical and strategic exploitation in con-junction with our land, sea and air forces.3

This original SF mission focused onconducting guerrilla war in support ofconventional operations. The employmentof Special Forces in Vietnam indicated awidening of mission responsibilities thatcontinues today as the Army adjusts to arapidly changing geopolitical environ-ment. Expertise both in the culture andin the language of their assigned geo-graphic areas make SF soldiers invalu-able assets in pursuing U.S. policy in thedeveloping world. Although assigned acombat role during war, Special Forceshave made their most significant contri-butions during conflict and in peacetimeenvironments.

Special Forces’ new-found respectabili-ty is a relatively recent occurrence. Atthe beginning of World War II, we pos-sessed nothing that could remotely be

termed an unconventional-warfare capa-bility.4 What little experience our mili-tary had gained in this field was inopposing unconventional-warfare effortsdirected against U.S. interests. Soldiersor Marines had crushed indigenous tribesand put down a guerrilla uprising in thePhilippines following the Spanish-Ameri-can War, and they conducted numerousmilitary operations in Central Americaand the Caribbean in defense of Ameri-can political and economic interests. Mili-tary officers believed themselves to beexperts in counterinsurgency but hadlong forgotten that guerrilla operationswere once a part of America’s strategicapproach to war.5

OSS formationThe beginning of World War II caught

the U.S. unprepared. Much of the PacificFleet rested in ruins in the silt of PearlHarbor. In Europe, France had fallen, andonly the approach of winter had stoppedHitler’s panzers from reaching Moscow.Britain was still holding out against theLuftwaffe, but German U-boats were tak-ing a terrible toll of British shipping. Fac-ing a bleak strategic situation, President

April 1995 29

Photo by Don Brown

A Special Forces adviser inVietnam plans an operationwith his South Vietnamesecounterpart.

Franklin D. Roosevelt was open to sugges-tions. Even before Pearl Harbor, WilliamJ. Donovan, a successful Wall Streetlawyer who had earned the Medal ofHonor during World War I, argued for agovernment organization dedicated to col-lecting strategic intelligence. Roosevelt,against the advice of his service chiefsand J. Edgar Hoover, bought the idea.After an inauspicious beginning, Dono-van’s organization became known as the

Office of Strategic Services. Not content tolimit his organization’s activity to gather-ing intelligence, Donovan expanded theOSS’s scope to encompass “special opera-tions,” a term that eventually becamesynonymous with unconventional war-fare. Under this heading, Donovan includ-ed sabotage, subversion, propaganda andguerrilla warfare.

Donovan envisioned high-risk endeav-ors for his special-operations people.When military thinkers were increasinglyseeing technological sophistication as theprerequisite for success in war, Donovanwas holding almost antiquated beliefsconcerning the importance of the individ-ual. He intended to create an organizationfrom carefully screened volunteers whopossessed initiative, intelligence, driveand physical stamina. Competency inNorwegian, French, Italian, Greek andSlavic languages was also emphasizedbecause these languages were common to

the areas in which he expected his peopleto operate.

European theaterThe OSS fielded a number of special-

operations organizations. In the Europeantheater, two distinct groups of operativesdeployed into Nazi-occupied France. Onegroup was the Jedburghs, named after atown along the Scottish-English border. AJed team typically consisted of two officersand an enlisted radio operator. GreatBritain, France and the U.S. providedmost of the personnel for the 96 Jedburghteams that were eventually fielded anddeployed to Europe.6 Donovan believedthat resistance groups existing throughoutmuch of Nazi-occupied Europe could cre-ate chaos in the German rear areas by dis-rupting road and rail traffic and conduct-ing other acts of sabotage. To maximizetheir effectiveness, however, they had tobe linked into the operational plans of theAllied armies gathering for the invasion ofFrance. Donovan wanted the Jedburghteams to be the link between the partisansand the Supreme Headquarters AlliedExpeditionary Force.

SHAEF’s next question about the Jed-burghs concerned the timing of theirdeployment. If the Jeds deployed too early,Germany would realize the invasion wasimminent. Another concern was how Ger-many would react to increased guerrillaactivity. These considerations overrodearguments to insert the Jeds early: Thefirst teams to deploy to France did so onlyhours before the landings. The majority ofdeployments occurred after the establish-ment of the beachhead.

Jed teams contacted French partisansand waged an energetic war against theirGerman adversaries. The effectiveness ofthe campaign, however, remains question-able. In northeastern France, the Jedteams that were most advantageously posi-tioned to support the landings receivedalmost no mention in official reports ofunits driving inland from Normandy.7

Many problems plagued the Jedburghs,especially the inexperience and the skepti-cism of conventional Army staffs with

30 Special Warfare

Photo courtesy Special Warfare Museum

Brig. Gen. William Dono-van (right) confers withthe British Lord Mounbat-ten (center) during WorldWar II.

regard to employing this new asset. Gen.George Patton’s diary entry for Sept. 2,1944, reveals the thinking characteristic ofone of the Army’s best ground commanders.“General ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan was in campwhen I got back and was most complimen-tary,” noted Patton. “While I think theefforts of his cohorts (Office of StrategicServices) are futile, I personally like andadmire him a lot. I will now get set for thenext move.” Most general-staff officersviewed the Jedburghs as audacious butlargely irrelevant, an attitude that ensuredunderemployment for the Jeds.

Operational GroupsThe second organization formed by the

OSS, the Operational Groups, suffered thesame kinds of problems that plagued theJeds. The OGs’ impact on the war wasgreater than that of the Jeds because theOGs were organized for a much widerrange of missions and were deployed overa larger area.

In the original configuration, each OGconsisted of 30 enlisted soldiers and fourofficers. Subsequent training exercises,however, convinced the OSS that the 34-man OG was too large for easy deploy-

ment.8 Hence, most OGs deployed in 15-man teams.9 Language skills, good physi-cal condition and a willingness to performhazardous duty topped the list of charac-teristics that OSS recruiters sought.10

Most volunteers came from Army unitsand possessed expertise in at least one ofthe following: light and heavy weapons,engineering, medicine or communications.Intended for deployment deep behindenemy lines, the teams would have to beas self-sufficient as possible. Like the Jed-burghs, the OGs were capable of organiz-ing and directing guerrillas. OGs couldalso conduct direct sabotage, rescuedowned pilots and collect intelligence.

The OSS formed OGs for deployment inFrance, Germany, Norway, Italy, Greeceand Yugoslavia. Except for the Germangroup that deployed into northern Italy,the OGs saw action in their assignedareas. The teams organized and directedItalian partisans in disrupting enemy sup-ply lines and forcing the Germans todivert combat units to rear-area security.They performed similar operations inYugoslavia and Greece. Here their pur-pose was to convince the German highcommand that the Allies intended tomount an offensive through the Balkans.

April 1995 31

Photo courtesy Special Warfare Museum

An OSS operative (secondfrom left) poses with parti-sans in a French village.

In the process, OGs killed or wounded sev-eral thousand German soldiers anddestroyed key rail and highway bridgesand extensive sections of railroad track. InNorway, one OG tied down significantnumbers of German soldiers in hit-and-run strikes and destroyed the Tangen rail-way bridge, a key conduit for Germaniron-ore shipments from neutral Sweden.OGs deployed into France at approximate-ly the same time as the Jedburghs andplayed a key role in the invasion of south-ern France. Assisted by the French resis-tance, the groups caused more than 1,000German casualties, captured 10,000 pris-oners and destroyed 32 bridges. As Ger-man resistance began to crumble, the OGsprevented the German army from destroy-ing transportation facilities crucial for theAllied advance.

Evaluating the effectiveness of the Jed-burghs and the OGs remains a difficulttask. The extensive list of targets hit andcasualties produced suggests that the OSSconducted a successful war against the

Germans in occupied Europe. OSS sup-porters took great satisfaction in Gen.Dwight D. Eisenhower’s statement on theimportance of partisan operations:

I consider the disruption of enemy railcommunications, the harassing of Germanroad moves and increasing strain placedon the German ... internal security servicesthroughout occupied Europe by the orga-nized forces of resistance, played a veryconsiderable part in our complete andfinal victory.

Eisenhower’s praise only indirectlytouched on the Jedburghs and the OGs. Therecords of the field armies deployed toEurope do not indicate that much thoughtwas given to guerrilla war. Many high-ranking officers considered it a waste ofboth manpower and materiel. Often, thedriving force behind deployments of specialunits was the OSS’s own staff officers serv-ing in the field armies. Vague mission state-ments, a rapidly changing tactical situationand inadequate communications equipmentlimited the effectiveness of the Jedburghs

32 Special Warfare

Photo courtesy National Archives

Soldiers from OSS Detach-ment 101 teach membersof the native resistance touse automatic weapons intheir f ight against theJapanese.

and the OGs once they were deployed. Fur-thermore, few of the targets they destroyedproved to be beyond the capabilities of Ger-man engineers to repair. The OSS peoplewere considered minor players in the out-come of the European war.

Pacific theaterIn the war against Japan, guerrilla-war

advocates found a better environment inwhich to test their SOF ideas. Again,Donovan took the lead. With Americanforces being largely swept from the Pacificearly in the war, few places offered muchopportunity for a small group of soldiers tomake a significant contribution. But theChina-Burma-India theater appeared tobe one such place. The air- and ground-transportation routes through the areaprovided the only hope of keeping ChiangKai-shek’s Nationalist army in the fieldagainst the Japanese. So long as theNationalists remained in the war, theJapanese would have to keep significantnumbers of their armed forces in Chinaand away from the invasion routesplanned by Gen. Douglas MacArthur andAdm. Chester Nimitz for their drivesthrough the southwest and central Pacific.

By mid-1942, Japanese ground forceshad closed the Burma Road, the lastground link to China, and were threateninga campaign into India. Donovan lobbied tohave a group of OSS operatives sent to sup-port operations in China. Skeptical of theOSS and pressured by Chiang Kai-shek’sintelligence chief to deny Donovan’s peopleaccess to China, Gen. Joseph W. Stilwellrefused to commit himself.11 Nonetheless,Donovan made plans to recruit a unit forthe theater. Eventually, the two reached acompromise: Stilwell accepted the OSSdetachment; Donovan permitted Stilwell toname its commander. The new detach-ment’s operations would also be limited, forthe time, to Burma.12

Detachment 101Stilwell appointed Maj. Carl Eifler to

command the new unit. Using the sameselection criteria as for other OSS organi-zations, Eifler built an organization at

training camps in Canada and in theCatochin Mountains near Camp David,Md. Eifler and 20 other soldiers deployedto the CBI theater in the spring of 1942.Their mission was to collect intelligenceand foment a guerrilla war against theJapanese. “All I want to hear from you,”Stilwell told Eifler, “are booms comingfrom the Burma jungle.”13 Woefully shortof manpower and unable to retake the ini-tiative in the area, Stilwell had to buytime by keeping the Japanese off balance.If Detachment 101 were successful, itcould help achieve his objective. Shouldthe unit fail, the loss of a handful of Amer-ican soldiers would not affect the opera-tional situation.

Eifler’s first attempt to infiltrate groundforces into Burma was unsuccessful. Onlyafter he worked out an agreement withBrig. Gen. Edward H. Alexander, chief ofthe Air Transport Command, to parachuteagents into Burma in exchange for orga-nizing an evasion-and-escape network forpilots shot down over the Himalayas didthe situation begin to change. Detachment101 soldiers found many of the localtribes, particularly the Kachins, willing toassist the Allies against the Japanese.

Under Detachment 101’s direction, theKachins became critically important toStilwell. The dense terrain made it diffi-cult to spot targets for Allied bombers.Kachin guerrillas found nearly 80 percentof the targets that had been selected forbombardment and conducted bomb-dam-age assessments following the strikes.14

The pilot-recovery network boosted pilotmorale. Detachment 101 eventually direct-ed 10,800 soldiers from the indigenoustribes of northern Burma in a successfulguerrilla war against the Japanese.

The OSS served as the key player in theunconventional-warfare campaign wagedin every theater commanded by an Armygeneral officer, except for Gen. DouglasMacArthur’s Southwest Pacific Command.MacArthur prevented the OSS from work-ing within his command, although Philip-pine guerrillas operating on a number ofthe islands caused considerable trouble forthe Japanese. They also provided invalu-able intelligence concerning Japanese

April 1995 33

army and navy units stationed among theislands. American officers who hadescaped capture on Bataan helped and fre-quently commanded the resistance effort.

Two Americans, Col. Wendell W. Fertigand Lt. Col. Russell W. Volckmann, provedparticularly troublesome for the Japanese.Neither man had received any specialtraining for his role. Fertig’s efforts wereassisted by MacArthur’s early decision tosupport the guerrillas with weapons andammunition. Volckmann had elected toforgo life in a Japanese prisoner-of-warcamp by fleeing into the jungle when hisunit received orders to surrender.15 Afterspending several months making his wayinto the mountains of northern Luzon, hebegan building a guerrilla organization.The harshness of Japanese occupationmethods made recruiting fairly easy. Forthree years, Volckmann directed the guer-rilla campaign in his area, receiving only amodicum of guidance and supplies fromMacArthur’s headquarters.16 Nonetheless,when American troops landed on Luzon,Volckmann produced five regiments ofPhilippine guerrillas (nearly 20,000 sol-diers) to assist in retaking the island.

OSS deactivationIn the European and the Pacific theaters

of the war, American soldiers had success-fully conducted UW against their oppo-nents. The question facing the militaryestablishment with the coming of peacewas what to do with this new Americancapability. Roosevelt believed it would benecessary to maintain a government orga-nization dedicated to gathering strategicintelligence and responsible solely to thepresident. Donovan, in a memorandum toRoosevelt, outlined his ideas for the organi-zation. Opponents of the idea leaked thememorandum to The Chicago Times, whichdescribed the proposed organization as a“Super Spy System for the New Deal.”17

The unwanted publicity forced Roosevelt topostpone his decision on the issue. Roo-sevelt’s death in April 1945 brought HarryTruman to the White House. Truman sup-ported neither the OSS nor Donovan’s pro-posal for a new postwar intelligence agen-

cy. On Oct. 1, 1945, Truman ordered theOSS disbanded immediately.18

Truman’s decision should not have comeas a surprise. In the postwar rush todemobilize, the OSS’s contribution to theoverall war effort constituted only a smallpart of the whole. None of the unconven-tional-warfare efforts had been in and ofthemselves decisive. All had depended onconventional military forces to deliver thecoup de grâce. Inside the military, the OSSwas an organization without a constituen-cy. The perception existed that unconven-tional warfare did not fit within the Amer-ican way of war.

Throughout most of our history, Ameri-can military thinkers have concentratedon developing the means to wage waraccording to a strategy of annihilation. Inturn, the U.S. has dedicated impressiveeconomic resources toward producingmachines of war that make possible thecombination of firepower and mobility crit-ical to the American military. Guerrillawar represents a different approach tostrategy. Focusing on the importance ofthe individual, guerrilla fighters aim atachieving their objectives through thegradual wearing away of the enemy’scapability and will to fight. Whereas a suc-cessful strategy of annihilation depends onthe ability of the military to project powerover space, attrition assumes the need toproject power over time. The Americanpublic has never seen war as a normalstate of affairs and tolerates it reluctantly,pressing the government to finish the mat-ter quickly and at little cost in terms oflives and fortune. This philosophicalframework alone ensures that the militarywill not find it necessary to retain a UWcapability in a postwar environment ofdeclining military budgets.

The postwar years of increasing ten-sions with the Soviet Union brought a re-evaluation of the need to collect strategicintelligence. The National Security Act of1947 authorized the formation of the Cen-tral Intelligence Agency to fill the void leftby the deactivation of the OSS. Later,National Security Council 10/2 named theCIA responsible for covert paramilitaryactivities during peacetime.19

34 Special Warfare

The Army expressed interest in develop-ing a UW capability, but proponents wereunclear about how the organization wouldlook. The most commonly broached ideacalled for the creation of airborne Rangerunits that could “organize and conductovert and covert operations behind enemylines.”20 Little came of the proposal, andthe interest in unconventional warfarewaned until the Korean conflict.

Korean conflictNorth Korea’s invasion of South Korea

caught American commanders in the FarEast by surprise. Unprepared for conven-tional operations, the U.S. Army possessedabsolutely no capability to conduct uncon-ventional warfare. It had neither forcesprepared for such a mission nor a doctrineto guide the effort. Opportunities did existto mobilize a partisan movement in someareas of North Korea where cultural tieslinked the inhabitants more closely to theSouth than to the North, particularly theKoreans living near the 38th parallel inNorth Korea’s Hwanghae Province. Real-izing where the province’s loyalties lay,Kim Il Sung instituted a harsh policy ofincorporation following the division of thecountry in 1945. The program produceddissent and forced many Hwanghaese tomigrate south of the 38th parallel.

The first suggestion that UnitedNations forces should undertake partisanwarfare came in 1950. It met with littlesupport, particularly as U.N. forcesflanked the North Korean army at Inchonand drove it northward toward the Yalu.In January 1951, with China’s entry intothe war and the prospect for a quick endto the conflict gone, Col. John McGee inthe 8th Army Headquarters resurrectedthe partisan-warfare idea and secured itsapproval. After gaining access to weapons,ammunition and other supplies, McGeegathered a small cadre of officers and mento train the partisan forces he expected torecruit. With the exception of a few indi-viduals who had served in the OSS or asguerrillas in the Philippines, none of thecadre had any UW experience.

McGee managed to put partisan units in

combat by March 1951. During the warMcGee and Lt. Col. Jay D. Vanderpoolbuilt up the force to the strength of fiveregiments, which were eventually desig-nated the United Nations Partisan ForcesKorea, or UNPFK. Partisans receivedtraining in all facets of UW, and theirtrainers labored diligently to preparethem for their role. Partisan leadersreceived the following advice:

Initiative and aggressiveness temperedby calm judgment will be encouraged.Avoid trying to win the war by yourself;pace the attack in accordance with youradvantage; when the advantage haspassed, get away to fight another day. Hitand run; these are the guerrilla’s tactics.The planning of such an operation shouldinclude an escape route and a rally point.Substitute speed and surprise for mass.21

Most guerrilla operations occurred alongNorth Korea’s eastern and western coasts,but the operations in the west proved farmore effective.22 Some operations conduct-ed by McGee’s partisans demonstrated con-siderable audacity and produced exception-al results. In one such operation, partisanscut the Wonsan-Koson railroad, used tosupply Chinese and North Korean forces.Previous attempts to cut the railroad

April 1995 35

Photo courtesy Special Warfare Museum

A soldier holds a bannerfrom the U.N. PartisanForces Korea.

through aerial bombardment had been onlypartially successful because communistrepair teams were masters at fixing thedamage. To keep the railroad closed, thetracks would have to be cut at a pointwhere repair crews could not easily get tothe damage. Derailing a train inside a rail-road tunnel seemed the best way to accom-plish this. After a suitable tunnel was locat-ed, a small band of partisans parachutedinto the area, placed explosives under therails inside the tunnel and then waited fora supply train to arrive. The explosionderailed the locomotive, and a number ofrailcars piled up inside the tunnel.

Damage estimatesPartisan operations continued through-

out the war. By 1953, UNPFK included22,227 partisans. Measuring the effective-ness of the partisan operations is difficult.Official estimates claimed by UNPFKincluded the killing of 69,000 enemy sol-diers and the destruction of 80 bridges andmore than 2,700 vehicles, at minimal costto UNPFK. Even American officers whodirected UNPFK doubted these numbers.

In fairness, UNPFK’s figures probablywere inflated. During World War II, studiesshowed that American units regularlyinflated their estimates by 7-9 times.Assuming UNPFK did no worse than matchthe U.S. Army’s inaccuracy, the partisanscould still take credit for killing 7,700-10,000 North Korean and Chinese soldiers.Regardless of which figures one accepts, theoverall assessment is that UNPFK repre-sented a bargain for the Army.

Army support for unconventional opera-tions increased during the Korean conflict.UNPFK’s record only partially explainsthe turnaround—the situation in Europebetter accounts for the change. PresidentTruman was hopeful that the Americanlead in atomic weapons would deter war,but if it did not, military leaders wereexpecting a war with the Soviet Union tobe protracted. The Soviet Union enjoyed amuch better strategic position in Europethan did the United States. The RedArmy’s numerical superiority and forwardbasing would permit a rapid thrust into

West Germany if war came. U.S. militaryplanners faced the prospect of having toblunt the Red Army’s blitzkrieg, then hav-ing to find a way to mass enough combatpower to destroy the invader. This phaseof the fighting was expected to approxi-mate World War II combat. Any anglethat might increase NATO’s chances wasconsidered worthwhile.

Inside the Pentagon, a small group ofunconventional-warfare advocates hadestablished a foothold and were energeti-cally pushing the idea that UW could helpbreak the deadlock in NATO’s favor. Ledby Brig. Gen. Robert McClure, chief ofpsychological warfare at the Pentagon,staff officers argued that partisan unitsoperating against the Red Army’s line ofsupply in Eastern Europe could make avaluable contribution to NATO’s defenseand counterattack.23 Working under theassumption that the Soviet Union’s heavy-handed seizure of Eastern Europe follow-ing World War II had created feelings ofanimosity necessary to motivate parti-sans, all that was necessary, so the argu-ment went, was for the U.S. to organize,equip and direct this new army.24 The pro-posal was vintage Donovan, updated todeal with a new enemy.

McClure became the leading advocatefor the creation of an Army organizationdedicated to UW. Volckmann, nowMcClure’s subordinate, had performedmuch of the preparatory work for makingthe concept a reality. Realizing thatinvolvement in UW would encounter areluctant audience, he worked to fit thenew doctrine into the larger strategic pic-ture. At a conference attended by Gen. J.Lawton Collins, Army chief of staff, Volck-mann explained why UW was necessary.

We may visualize the world today asbeing divided into two major layers ofindividuals that cover the earth unrestrict-ed by national boundaries. These layers,one red and one blue, are held together bycommon ideologies. Any future war maywell be regarded as an international civilwar waged by these opposing layers. Thefull exploitation of our sympathetic bluelayers within the enemy’s sphere of influ-ence is basically the mission of special-

36 Special Warfare

forces operations. It is from the blue layerwithin the enemy’s sphere of influence thatwe must foster resistance movements, orga-nize guerrilla or indigenous forces on amilitary basis, conduct sabotage and sub-version, effect evasion and escape.25

After McClure gained enough support tocreate the new unit, the next problem wasto find personnel authorizations to fill it.Volckmann again took the lead, battlingthe Army’s bureaucracy for a year over thematter.26 Working a deal with an old WestPoint classmate, Volckmann finally secured3,000 personnel spaces from Army unitsthat had been or were being deactivated.27

10th SF GroupOn June 19, 1952, the Army formed the

10th Special Forces Group at Fort Bragg,N.C. Commanded by Col. Aaron Bank, aveteran of the OSS Jedburghs, the 10thSF Group began with only a handful ofsoldiers. An extensive campaign to fill thegroup’s ranks soon followed. Recruitersfocused on soldiers with OSS or Rangerexperience.28 Airborne units also proved tobe a good source for the kinds of soldiersthe 10th SFG’s officers desired. Volunteersknew little about the unit except that theduty would be hazardous.

The architects of the 10th SF Groupbuilt it along the lines of their own experi-ences in World War II. The 15-man OSSOG became the pattern for the SF A-detachment, the smallest deployable com-ponent of the group. Training also mir-rored that received by OSS operators dur-ing the war. Bank arrived at Fort Braggwith a trunkful of OSS documents and les-son plans.29 These provided the frame-work for training the new unit. The mini-mum goal was for each enlisted soldier topossess expertise in at least one of fivemilitary skills, including weapons, com-munications, medical, engineering, oroperations and intelligence. With eachteam targeted for a particular regionbehind the Iron Curtain, language skillsreceived considerable attention. Thankslargely to the Lodge Bill, SF recruiterswere able to bring large numbers of dis-placed foreign nationals from Eastern

Europe into the 10th SF Group. Screenedclosely to ensure their anti-communistpedigree, these soldiers provided a level oflanguage proficiency never again equaledin Special Forces.

In 1953 when Red Army tanks rolledinto the streets of East Berlin to crush aGerman anti-communist uprising, the10th had begun to reach the standards setby Bank. Fearing the possibility of anoth-er European war, the Army deployed halfof the 10th to Bad Tölz in the FederalRepublic of Germany. The remaining sol-diers formed the basis for the Army’s sec-ond Special Forces group, designated the77th Special Forces Group. To hide the10th’s deployment, the Army provided acover story that depicted the unit as the10th Airborne Reconnaissance Group, butthe effort fooled no one.30

Throughout much of the rest of thedecade, soldiers of the 10th, 77th and laterthe 1st Special Forces Group prepared forunconventional warfare aimed at the Sovi-et Union and the People’s Republic ofChina. War plans varied for each group.The 10th, for example, intended to commit50 detachments to operations in EasternEurope and the Soviet Union itself shouldwar break out. The Army, along with theCIA, developed a network of agents inEastern Europe to use as contacts for thedetachments once they deployed. Theagents would provide places in which theteams could hide and prepare themselves

April 1995 37

Photo courtesy Special Warfare Museum

Members of an early Spe-cial Forces detachmenttake time out from moun-tain-warfare training.

for combat. The teams would then beginraising, training and directing partisanbands to operate against targets of oppor-tunity. Bank believed it possible to raise50 battalions of partisans for use againstthe Red Army. To secure the Red Army’ssupply lines, Russian commanders wouldhave to pull 18 divisions from the front tocontrol the partisan threat. The only prob-lem with the concept, as Bank was to findout, was that the commanding general ofUnited States Army-Europe had little, ifany, knowledge of the 10th SF Group’srequirements or capabilities. No plansexisted to support the logistics require-ments of 50 battalions of partisans.31

In a time of tight budgets, SF opponentssaw the new units as the least critical tothe Army. With “massive retaliation”being the words commonly used to sum-marize the official defense policy of theU.S. in the 1950s, the three SF groupsappeared extraneous. Also, many Armyofficers still saw unconventional warfareas, at best, ineffective and, at worst, ille-gal and unethical. Special Forces support-ers doubted the organization would survive.

In 1959, the CIA sought the Army’sassistance in countering a growing threatfrom communist guerrillas against theLaotian government. The Army turned tothe 77th SF Group to conduct the mission.Most of the training that Special Forcessoldiers had received centered around con-ducting guerrilla operations. It seemedlogical that any group of soldiers trainedto foment a guerrilla war possessed thequalifications to defeat one. When the firstteams deployed to Laos from Fort Bragg in1959 in an operation eventually code-named White Star, they started SpecialForces down a new path. The Army’s fore-most experts in insurgency became mas-ters of counterinsurgency. President JohnF. Kennedy particularly liked the idea ofusing Special Forces as low-visibility pointmen for the military in the battle againstwhat was perceived to be Soviet-sponsoredguerrilla wars. SF advocates foundrenewed support in high places. With con-siderable prodding from the White House,the Army reluctantly authorized anactive-duty strength of seven groups, with

additional groups formed in the NationalGuard and the Army Reserve.

The growth of and the use of SpecialForces during the 1960s represented anevolutionary step for the Army. War hadnot broken out on the plains of Europe asplanners had envisioned. An Army thatwas built for conventional battle founditself unprepared to meet the challenges ofa conflict that did not meet the traditionaldefinition of war. Special Forces providedthe only force capable of an immediateresponse to the Army’s needs. For 35years, Special Forces have provided theArmy with its best capability of meetingcontingencies below the threshold of war.

Joseph R. Fischer is ahistorian with the U.S.Army Special OperationsCommand at Fort Bragg. Hehas nearly 20 years of com-missioned service in bothactive and reserve compo-nents, including service as commander of amechanized-infantry company in the 3rdArmored Division, as commander of an A-detachment in the 7th Special ForcesGroup and as a history instructor at theU.S. Military Academy at West Point. As amajor in the Army Reserve, he is assignedto the Army Special Forces Command. Heis a graduate of the Army Command andGeneral Staff College, the Infantry OfficerAdvanced Course and the Special ForcesQualification Course. He received hisPh.D. in history from Penn State Universi-ty in 1994.

Notes:1 Carl von Clausewitz, On War, Michael Howard,

ed. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,1984), pp. 480-81.

2 A number of factors differentiate the three envi-ronments, the most important being the level of hos-tilities present. In war, the weapons available for usemay range from nuclear to conventional munitions.Normally the goals are clear and are stated in mili-tary terms (e.g., “Invade the Continent of Europe,” or“Evict Iraqi Forces from Kuwait”). Armed combat isassumed necessary. Under a conflict environment,the goal is frequently to deter escalation to war and

38 Special Warfare

resolve the conflict. Combat is possible, but theweapons are limited to conventional munitions, withstrict rules of engagement to limit unnecessary dam-age. Recent U.S. operations in Somalia provide thebest example of this kind of operating environment.Finally, military operations in a peacetime environ-ment have as their goal the further continuation ofpeace. The use of force is considered undesirable. SeeFM 100-5, Operations (Washington, D.C.: Depart-ment of the Army, 1993), p. 2-1.

3 Alfred Paddock, U.S. Army Special Warfare: ItsOrigins (Washington, D.C.: National Defense Univer-sity Press, 1983), p. 149.

4 The term “unconventional warfare” refers to sab-otage, escape and evasion, and guerrilla warfare(insurgency).

5 Most colonial powers had experience with coun-terguerrilla warfare, but the U.S. may well havebeen the most successful at it. The U.S. MarineCorps eventually compiled a handbook on its experi-ences with counterinsurgency that remains excep-tionally current in spite of its 1940 copyright. SeeFAWMC 2890, Small Wars Manual (Washington,D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1940). Wealso employed guerrilla units during the AmericanRevolution and the Civil War.

6 Dutch, Belgian, French Canadian, South Africanand New Zealand soldiers were also in the Jed-burghs, though in small numbers. See JedburghTeam Listing, Jedburgh Papers, USASOC Historyand Archives, Fort Bragg, N.C.

7 S. J. Lewis, Jedburgh Team Operations in Sup-port of the 12th Army Group, August 1944 (FortLeavenworth, Kan.: Combat Studies Institute, 1991),p. 60.

8 John W. Shaver III, “Office of the Strategic Ser-vices: Operational Groups in France During WorldWar II, July-October 1944” (Master’s dissertation,U.S. Army Command and General Staff College,1993), p. 3.

9 Ibid.10 Miscellaneous Records of Operational Group A,

OSS-OG After Action Report-Italy, OSS Records,USASOC History and Archives, Fort Bragg, N.C., p. 2.

11 Stilwell’s reaction to the initial offer of OSS sup-port was anything but encouraging. He was on recordas claiming that guerrillas operated outside the legalframework of war and that they were capable of doinglittle more than “shadow boxing” with the enemy. SeePaddock, U.S. Army Special Warfare, p. 32.

12 The OSS did eventually establish a presence inChina, training thousands of guerrillas for opera-tions against the Japanese and, at times, Chinesecommunists. Organized into “columns” of 1,000 men,these units, along with their American advisers,struck targets from the Chinese coast to the Mongo-lian border. See Ronald H. Spector, Eagle Against theSun: The American War with Japan (New York: Vin-tage Books, 1985), p. 462.

13 Ibid., p. 464.14 David W. Hogan Jr., U.S. Army Special Opera-

tions in World War II (Washington D.C.: Center forMilitary History, 1992), p. 110.

15 Both Volckmann and Donald Blackburn wereassigned to the 11th Division when word reachedthem that their unit was to surrender. Volckmannrequested permission from his division commander,Brig. Gen. William Brougher, to ignore the order andescape through enemy lines with the intention ofestablishing a resistance movement in the enemy’srear. Brougher agreed to list the two men as missingin action when the division surrendered. See RussellW. Volkmann, We Remained: Three Years BehindEnemy Lines in the Philippines (New York: W.W.Norton & Co., 1954), pp. 40-41.

16 Maj. Gen. Charles A. Willoughby, ed., The Guer-rilla Resistance Movement in the Philippines (Tokyo:U.S. Army Forces Pacific, 1948), 2:44.

17 Paddock, U.S. Army Special Warfare: ItsOrigins, p. 30.

18 Ibid.19 Ibid.20 Paddock, U.S. Army Special Warfare: Its

Origins, p. 71.21 Headquarters, Far East Command Liaison

Detachment (Korea), 8240th Army Unit, GuerrillaOperations Outline, 1953, by Lt. Col. Jay D. Vander-pool, OIC Guerrilla Division, 22 January 1953, filedwith Staff Visit of Col. Bradford Butler Jr., March1953, Record Group 319, Army-Chief of Special War-fare, 1951-54, National Archives as quoted in Pad-dock, U.S. Army Special Warfare: Its Origins, p. 102.

22 Many of the partisans working along the westcoast were natives of Hwanghaese and thereforewere very familiar with the area.

23 McClure was well-positioned to make such anargument. In 1951, Secretary of the Army Frank Pacehad appointed him as the ranking officer in a newlycreated special staff department at Pentagon level,the Office of the Chief of Psychological Warfare. Thisoffice had proponency not only for psychological oper-ations but also for unconventional operations.

24 Charles M. Simpson III, Inside the Green Berets:The First Thirty Years (Novato, Calif.: Presidio Press,1983), p. 16; and interview with retired MSgt. JohnDolin conducted 21 December 1993, USASOC Histo-ry and Archives, Fort Bragg, N.C.

25 Headquarters, The Infantry School, Fort Ben-ning, Ga., Memorandum to the Commanding Gener-al, Infantry Center, subject: Analysis and Suggestedre Gen. J. Lawton Collins’ Conference, 5 April 1951,from Lt. Col. Russell W. Volckmann, 9 April 1951,filed with Psy War 337 (16 April 1951). Record Group319, Army-Chief of Special Warfare, 1951-54, TSDecimal Files, Box 12, National Archives.

26 Russell W. Volckmann to Beverly E. Lindsey, 21March 1969, in Volckmann Papers, USASOCArchives, Fort Bragg, N.C.

27 All of the 3,000 positions Volckmann securedcame from the Ranger companies the Army had acti-vated for the Korean conflict.

28 Interview with retired MSgt. John Dolin.29 Interview with Caesar J. Civitella, 20 October

1988, USSOCOM, MacDill Air Force Base, Fla.30 Interview with retired MSgt. John Dolin.31 Ibid.

April 1995 39

In 1983, the commanding general of theJFK Special Warfare Center presented aproposal to the Department of the Armyfor the creation of a new warrant-officerspecialty for Special Forces. In June 1984,the first group of 40 SF warrant officerswas appointed at Fort Bragg.

The 11 years since then have seen thecreation and development of an elite corpsof officers unique to SF — warrant offi-cers who go beyond the original role of“officer technician” to lead, train andadvise in the demanding environment ofspecial operations.

Warrant officers, unlike other officers,are single-track specialists who have nofunctional area or secondary occupationalspecialty. The Army’s traditional definitionof a warrant officer is “An officer appointedby warrant by the Secretary of the Armybased upon a sound level of technical andtactical competence. The warrant officer isa highly specialized expert and trainerwho, by gaining progressive levels of exper-tise and leadership, operates maintains,administers, and manages the Army’sequipment, support activities, or technicalsystems for an entire career.”

Although part of the traditional defini-tion accommodates Special Forces warrantofficers, they are distinct not only becauseof their combat role — they are the Army’sonly warrant officers with a direct ground-combat role and are eligible for the Com-bat Infantryman’s Badge — but also

because of their training, qualificationsand mission.

ContinuityOriginally called special-operations

technicians, Special Forces warrant offi-cers were conceived, based on a doctrinaldecision, as a replacement for the SFdetachment executive officer, a first lieu-tenant, to provide officer continuity andexpertise. The XO’s role was essentially tomanage administration and logistics; theSF warrant officer had more to offer. Hewas designed to be the tactical and techni-cal expert, regional authority, primaryadviser to the detachment commander,and the detachment chief of staff. Thewarrant officer was ideally suited toreplace the XO, because, unlike the otherofficers, he came from the ranks of the SFdetachment and was frequently one of themost experienced soldiers on the team.

In addition to SF-related schooling, thewarrant officer possesses regional abilitiesand a language capability. During the Spe-cial Forces Warrant Officer Basic Course,he receives further training in advancedspecial-operations techniques; staff organi-zation and procedures; combined tactics tobrigade level; regional studies; trainingmanagement; computer skills; survival,evasion, resistance and escape; Psychologi-cal Operations and Civil Affairs.

The warrant officer assigned to the A-

40 Special Warfare

A Special Breed of Officer:The Special Forces Warrant Officer

by CWO3 Shaun Driscoll

detachment provides officer continuity. Heremains on the team much longer thanother officers and many of the NCOs. It isthis continuity that makes the warrant,now called the assistant detachment com-mander, the person best-qualified toadvise the detachment commander and tomanage the mid- and long-range trainingplans of the detachment. The assistantdetachment commander doesn’t devotehimself to administration and logistics asdid the XO. He focuses on those skill areasunique to his MOS, including SpecialForces operations and intelligence — thecornerstone of his training.

Growth problemsLike many successful new programs, the

Special Forces warrant-officer programencountered problems during its growth.The program’s own entry-level prerequi-sites created hurdles for those aspirantswho wanted to take the career challenge.Initial prerequisites included three CMF 18MOSs, a 2/2 language rating and four yearsof Special Forces experience. Although theforce seemed to have sufficient applicantsduring the first two years of accessions, theresponse soon slowed dramatically.

The decrease in applicants can probablybe attributed to the 180A program’s hav-ing exhausted the force’s supply of soldiersqualified by the original prerequisites —MOS 180A demanded too much of theforce. The Special Operations ProponencyOffice of the JFK Special Warfare Centerand School re-evaluated the program’sprerequisites and concluded that theywere not a sound representation of whatthe force could offer.

For example, SOPO found that the aver-age length of “team time” in Special Forces(in grades E-6 through E-9) was four years.This average detachment time holds truetoday — many soldiers serve their secondSF assignment in SWCS, not on a detach-ment. Another unrealistic requirementwas the need for three MOSs. This require-ment was met more often by applicantsfrom Fort Bragg-based SF groups than bythose from other groups. Although all theSF groups conducted cross-training, thegroups based at Fort Bragg could betterafford to send their NCOs to the MOS-pro-ducing courses there.

Another problem was the lack of unitcommand emphasis on the 180A program.Change is not always easy, and effectivechange seldom occurs quickly. Some com-

April 1995 41

U.S. Army photo

The Special Forces war-rant officer provides conti-nuity of team leadershipand focuses on skill areasunique to his specialty,including SF operationsand intelligence.

manders and their senior enlisted adviserswere reluctant to embrace the new war-rant-officer concept — they perceived it asa threat to the professional development ofaspiring detachment commanders since iteliminated the XO position, and as a bur-den on the NCO corps because it luredaway potential SF team sergeants. Othersthought that a warrant officer’s dutieswould conflict with or even usurp the teamsergeant’s role. These perceptions werelargely based upon lack of knowledge aboutthe program; they later proved to beuntrue. Ultimately, the senior leadership ofthe SF community provided the emphasisnecessary for the reluctant few to recognizethe doctrinal difference and the enhancingquality of the SF warrant officer.

ProfileCurrent 180A prerequisites call for staff

sergeants and above, a CMF 18 MOS, aminimum of three years’ time on an A-detachment, a score of 85 or better on theDefense Language Aptitude Battery, com-pletion of the SF ANCOC after Oct. 3, 1994or SF O&I qualification, and letters of rec-ommendation from commanders at thedetachment, company, battalion and grouplevels.

Recent MOS 180A applicants selected forcandidacy were SFCs who averaged 11.6years of active federal service and 4.9 yearsof detachment time (four years is the aver-age for the entire CMF) and were gradu-ates of the SF Advanced NCO Course. Typ-ical candidates have language ratings(many exceeding the entry-level 1+/1+),high aptitude scores and high scores on theArmy Physical Readiness Test (under thegrading criteria of the 17-21 age group),and a demonstrated history of highachievement.

This history normally demonstrates apattern of graduation honors from Armyservice schools including Ranger School, theSF Assistant Operations and IntelligenceSergeant Course and SF ANCOC. Othertypical attributes include high-quality“troop” or conventional time as squad andsection leaders in a Ranger battalion, the82nd Airborne Division, or other infantry

assignments demonstrating soldiers’ experi-ence and potential as small-unit leaders. Onthe average these candidates have morethan 14 years of education.

Another common denominator amongNCOs selected for candidacy is theirdesire to lead as officers and to make aqualitative difference on the A-detach-ment. Power, wealth and status are notthe common motives among SF warrantofficers — job satisfaction is probably theirnumber-one motive.

A recent example of the desired MOS180A candidate with a balance of experi-ence and potential is WO1 Robert Buderus.Buderus had eight years of active federalservice when he applied, was a sergeantfirst class and an ANCOC graduate. His SFexperience included more than four years ofteam time as an 18D and 18B in the 7th SFGroup. His conventional service included atour in Korea as an infantryman and a tourin the 82nd Airborne Division as a rifleteam leader in the 3rd Battalion, 505thRegiment.

In addition to his other military train-ing, Buderus possessed a 2/2 Spanish rat-ing and was qualified as a Ranger and asa military-free-fall jumpmaster. With hisprevious record of high achievement inother service schools, it was no surprisethat Buderus was named the distin-guished honor graduate of both his SFO&I class and his class in the WarrantOfficer Candidate School at Fort Rucker,Ala. Typically, SF WO candidates, likeBuderus, take many of the top honors atthe WOCS.

Three hurdlesThe stress of WOCS is the first hurdle

the SF warrant-officer candidate mustovercome. Six weeks and four days long,the course has turned back many candi-dates who lacked the commitment. Thisis the purpose of the course — simply tofind out who’s serious and who’s not.Those who quit are not penalized; theyresume their NCO careers. Those who docomplete WOCS are conditionallyappointed as WO1s, by warrant, by theSecretary of the Army.

42 Special Warfare

The next hurdle for the newly appointedwarrant officer is the SF Warrant OfficerBasic Course, which provides the myriad ofsubjects unique to MOS 180A. This 18-weekcourse is taught by senior SF warrant offi-cers and further enhances the tactical andtechnical abilities of its students. Graduatesof SF WOBC are awarded MOS 180A — acontingency to formalize their conditionalappointments. Many of the new 180As willgo on to language training or other specialtytraining prior to their first assignments. Insome cases the complete training period,including a tour at the Defense LanguageInstitute at Monterey, Calif., can be as longas 24 months. In terms of dollars and time,this initial training investment exceeds, onaverage, all other fields. Because of this ini-tial front-end-loaded investment, the SFwarrant officer becomes a significant assetto his commander and the commanders tofollow.

The third hurdle is the challenge to thenew warrant officer to complete his transi-tion from NCO to officer. This hurdle isopen-ended; for most 180As, the transitionis a growing experience that allows them toadapt to increased responsibilities, authori-ty and expectations. After 24 months ofsuccessful warrant-officer service, the WO1is not only promoted to CWO2 but alsocommissioned. Under current timelines, SFwarrant officers can expect to be promotedto CWO3 as regular Army officers withabout seven years of warrant service (fiveyears after CWO2), to CWO4 with 12 years,and to CWO5 with 17 years of warrant ser-vice. For the young sergeant first class with8-10 years of active federal service, 12years to CWO4 is an attractive opportuni-ty. Promotion opportunities for each gradein the Army warrant-officer corps are asfollows: 80 percent for CWO3; 76 percentfor CWO4; and 44 percent for CWO5. MOS180A has consistently exceeded the DAaverages for promotion to CWO3 andCWO4 — a record indicative of the qualityof soldiers in this specialty.

AssignmentsToday, SF warrant officers serve in all

SF groups, primarily on detachments,

then later in company-, battalion- andgroup-headquarters positions. Most havecommanded detachments, some in combat,and continue to command while assignedto the detachment level. Sometimes asmany as 50 percent of these officers are incommand at any given time.

All warrant officers may command(preferably as a CWO2 or after at leastone successful rating period as a WO1),and commissioned warrant officers(CWO2s and above) have the same author-ity granted to all other officers. Most SFwarrant officers will command A-detach-ments at some point during their careers.Some 180As have commanded duringmore of their team time than not, includ-ing combat. SF warrant officers shouldserve as assistant detachment comman-ders (or detachment commanders whenappropriate) at the detachment level for aminimum of five years, but they may serve

April 1995 43

Graduates of the SF Warrant Officer Basic Course receive the MOS 180A and face the chal-lenge of the transition from SF NCO to SF warrant officer.

U.S. Army photo

up to 14 years on detachments if required.This detachment-level assignment shouldbe considered “branch-qualifying.”

These time parameters are created toprovide maximum utilization and continu-ity for WO1s, CWO2s and CWO3s ondetachments (two of the six WO detach-ment slots are grade-coded for CWO3s).Other professional-development guidancewill be addressed in the MOS 180A chap-ter of DA Pamphlet 600-11, Warrant Offi-cer Professional Development, that is nowbeing staffed through Army channels.

Beyond the A-detachment, SF warrantofficers serve as operations and intelli-gence officers in Special Forces companies,battalions, groups and, recently, in theaterSOCs. SF warrants are primarily opera-tors, and about 95 percent of their assign-ments are in the SF groups. Small num-bers of senior warrant officers will alsoserve in the U.S. Special Operations Com-mand, the U.S. Army Special OperationsCommand, the U.S. Army Special ForcesCommand, the SWCS and the Joint Readi-ness Training Center.

Job descriptionsTo accommodate the growth and doctri-

nal presence of MOS 180A, job descrip-tions for senior and master warrant offi-cers have recently been written based onthe basic MOS 180A job description. Thebasic MOS 180A job description is tailoredto the detachment level:

Commands in the absence of the detach-ment commander; serves as technical andtactical authority in all aspects of SpecialForces operations; supervises all staffactivities; is the PSYOP and Civil Affairsauthority; has cultural, regional, and lin-guistic abilities; manages the mid-termand long-term training.

The senior and master warrant-officerjob descriptions expand the basic role ofthe SF warrant officer to encompass thestaff duties of SF warrants in companyoperations, battalion operations, groupintelligence and group-operations sections.As an additional duty, all senior and mas-ter warrant officers serve as senior war-rant advisers to the commander. In this

role, the senior 180A at company, battal-ion and group levels will advise the com-mander on all warrant-officer matters. Alljob descriptions (basic, senior and master)allow for the command role of the SF war-rant officer. Because of the dynamics ofthe operational environment, a comman-der may elect to have a warrant officer(any grade) command a separate task-organized element. The 180A is fully capa-ble of both assuming this role and com-manding the mission.

Growth dynamicsBecause of their abilities, SF warrant

officers are much in demand throughoutthe Army SOF and joint communities. Thefield is continually identifying upward andlateral areas for growth, but because ofmanpower constraints, the current strate-gy for growth is to fill the need, validate or“grow into” the position and then seekauthorization for the billet.

For example, the theater special-opera-tions commands, or SOCs, have 180Asserving in operations/plans and intelli-gence/targeting staff roles. With theirunique expertise and regional skills, SFWOs enhance the SOC’s planning andoperational abilities. These jobs in theSOCs are operationally significant andlogical for growth. Unfortunately, themajority of these positions have no perma-nent authorizations or billets to supportthe permanent assignment of 180As. Allbillets require a billpayer; as a result, WOslots have to be taken “out of hide” fromthe SF groups, creating shortages there.

Acquiring increased authorizationsrequires the full support of the SOC andthe theater commander in chief, and theslots may develop slowly because of cur-rent manpower constraints. In our currentzero-sum situation, in order for 180A togain billets, other warrant-officer fieldsmust lose them.

Approximately five percent of MOS180A authorizations are in TDA unitssuch as the JFK Special Warfare Centerand School, and senior warrant officersare hand-picked for these assignments.The SWCS authorizations will increase in

44 Special Warfare

April 1995 45

SF Warrant Officer Job DescriptionsKey to the success of the Special Forces warrant-officer program has been thedevelopment of job descriptions which reflect the leadership and doctrinal respon-sibilities at each of the three levels. The job descriptions are as follows:The Special Forces Warrant Officer serves as the assistant detachment command-er, is second in command and commands in the absence of the detachment com-mander. Commands half the SFOD “A” during split-team operations. Providestactical and technical assistance to the detachment for all Special Forces opera-tions, e.g., direct action, special reconnaissance, unconventional warfare, foreigninternal defense, psychological operations, counterterrorism, advanced specialoperations techniques, and/or civil-military activities in support of joint, com-bined or unilateral operations across the operational continuum. Possesses spe-cialized military skills needed to operate in all physical environments and thecultural awareness, regional expertise and linguistic skills for worldwide deploy-ments. Supervises and directs all staff functions to include managing the devel-opment of SFOD “A” mid- and long-range training plans.The Special Forces Senior Warrant Officer serves as the company operations war-rant officer and as the battalion operations warrant officer with a focus on Spe-cial Forces operations and intelligence. The senior warrant officer provides tacti-cal and technical assistance to the commander for all Special Forces operations,e.g., direct action, special reconnaissance, unconventional warfare, foreign inter-nal defense, psychological operations, counterterrorism, advanced special opera-tions techniques, and/or civil-military activities in support of joint, combined orunilateral operations across the operational continuum. Possesses specializedmilitary skills needed to operate in all physical environments and the culturalawareness, regional expertise and linguistic skills for worldwide deployments.Advises the commander on all regional considerations pertinent to the opera-tional environment. Commands a task-organized operational element and/orserves on an SFOD “A.” Serves as an instructor/writer in an Army service school.Acts as the senior warrant adviser to the commander, advising the commanderon all warrant-officer-related issues.The Special Forces Master Warrant Officer serves as the group operations war-rant officer or as the group intelligence warrant officer in the Special Forcesgroup, with a focus on Special Forces operations and intelligence. The masterwarrant officer provides tactical and technical assistance to the commander forall Special Forces operations, e.g., direct action, special reconnaissance, uncon-ventional warfare, foreign internal defense, psychological operations, counterter-rorism, advanced special operations techniques, and/or civil-military activities insupport of joint, combined or unilateral operations across the operational continu-um. Possesses specialized military skills needed to operate in all physical envi-ronments and the cultural awareness, regional expertise and linguistic skills forworldwide deployments. Advises the commander on all regional considerationspertinent to the operational environment. Commands a task-organized opera-tional element and serves in key staff positions above group level. Acts as thesenior warrant adviser to the commander, advising the commander on all war-rant-officer-related issues. — CWO3 Shaun Driscoll

time to enhance the Center and School’sability to develop doctrine and trainingand to train entry-level warrant officersand SF soldiers in specialty-skill areas.

EvolutionSince 1984, the original 40 SF warrant

officers have been joined by nearly 350others in MOS 180A. In bringing theirexperience as NCOs to the leadership ofSF units, these warrant officers havebrought an unprecedented change to theSF community. They have been instru-mental in the activation of Branch 18 bypulling up the slack and commandingdetachments in the absence of captains.Branch 18 would have had a difficult roadto health had it not been for MOS 180A.

On the battlefield, MOS 180As have ledand served on A-detachments in a directground-combat role — in two theaters ofoperation to date. SF warrants areenmeshed in our day-to-day worldwideoperations as key players and are there-fore in harm’s way every day. The combataccomplishments of MOS 180A alone are ahistorical precedent.

As a result of identity confusion in bothjoint and foreign environments, in April of1994 the commanding general of theSWCS elected to delete the term “techni-cian” from the MOS title of 180A. Divorcedfrom the term “technician,” MOS 180A hasfurther refined its identity by changing itsprincipal duty titles and by developingsenior- and master-warrant-officer job

descriptions that provide a better doctri-nal focus. The field has evolved wellbeyond the ambiguities of the “specialoperations technician” to the refined rele-vant role of the Special Forces warrantofficer. In our current military structure,MOS 180A is one of a kind. Its evolution isapparent today as SF warrant officersworldwide lead, train, advise and com-mand Special Forces units, meeting thedemands of our operational environmentworldwide.

CWO3 Shaun Driscoll isthe MOS 180A manager inthe Special Operations Pro-ponency Office at the JFKSpecial Warfare Center andSchool. His prior assign-ments include serving in the2nd Ranger Battalion, 75th Infantry, as asquad leader; and in the 1st and 3rd bat-talions of the 10th SF Group as an SFweapons sergeant, intelligence sergeantand later as both assistant commanderand detachment commander on several A-detachments. He participated in Opera-tions Desert Shield, Desert Storm, ProvideComfort and Silver Anvil. He is a graduateof the SF Warrant Officer AdvancedCourse and the Defense Language Institute(German). He holds a bachelor’s degreefrom Western New England College and isa candidate for a master’s degree fromCampbell University.

46 Special Warfare

Officer Career NotesSpecial Warfare

April 1995 47

The Special Warfare Center and School recommends that commanders ofSF units appoint their senior warrant officer the additional duty of seniorwarrant-officer adviser. The adviser would become the unit focal point forall warrant-officer professional-development information. Interested war-rant officers can request an SF warrant-officer professional-developmentbriefing mailout by calling the SWCS Special Operations ProponencyOffice at DSN 239-2415/9002 or commercial (910) 432-2415/9002.

Field-grade SF officers with a functional area of 39 should attempt tobranch-qualify before their FA39 participation. If an officer is identified toserve an FA39 tour prior to branch qualification, he will serve a maximumof 18 months and then be reassigned to an SF unit to become branch-quali-fied at the major level. For information contact Jeanne Schiller, FA39 man-ager, at DSN 239-6406 or commercial (910) 432-6406.

DA Pamphlet 600-11, Warrant Officer Professional Development, scheduledfor release this year, will provide a career road map for warrant officers. Thechapter on SF warrant officers will stress the importance of branch-qualify-ing assignments. Important assignments by grade are assistant detachmentcommander, WO1-CWO3; company operations warrant officer, CWO3; bat-talion operations warrant officer, CWO4; group operations warrant officer,CWO5; and group intelligence warrant officer, CWO5. This pattern empha-sizes the importance of assigning WO1s and CWO2s to the detachmentlevel. Commanders are encouraged to assign warrant officers commensuratewith their rank, their abilities and the guidance in DA Pam 600-11.

During fiscal year 1994, the Army called 22 SF captains to active duty fromthe Army Reserve to fill shortage year groups. During FY 95 it will call six.These captains will have assigned functional areas and will have the poten-tial to serve full careers in the active component. PERSCOM will managetheir career development in their branch and functional-area. To ensurethat these officers achieve branch qualification as captains, they should beassigned as detachment commanders as soon as possible. DA selectionboards will review each officer’s entire file. Those promoted to major beforethe fourth anniversary of their call will be granted Regular Army status. Allothers will compete for voluntary indefinite status after the third anniver-sary of their call. Raters and senior raters should counsel, assess and ratethese officers as they do all other captains in their units. For informationcontact Maj. Dan Adelstein at the SWCS Special Operations ProponencyOffice, DSN 239-2415/9002 or commercial (910) 432-2415/9002; or Capt.Steve Whitmarsh at the SF Branch, U.S. Total Army Personnel Center,DSN 221-3175/3178 or commercial (703) 325-3175/3178.

Officers should branch-qualify before FA39

assignment

Senior warrant-officers mayserve additional duty

Army to call Reserve SFcaptains to active duty

Important to match WOgrade, assignment

Enlisted Career NotesSpecial Warfare

48 Special Warfare

The Special Operations Proponency Office has provided the followinginformation in response to inquiries from the field expressing concernabout the health of Military Occupational Specialty 18D:•As of Sept. 30, 1994, the operating strength of 18D was 92 percent. U.S.

Total Army Personnel Command’s program guidance is 102 percent.This equates to a shortage of 74 18Ds. More than 220 students are pro-jected to attend 18D training in FY 95. While all other MOS training isbeing drastically reduced, 18D classes remain full. SOPO and the SFBranch are projecting that MOS 18D will reach PERSCOM programguidance in early FY 96. MOS 18Ds will then have an opportunity toreclassify into MOS 18F and to request duty as drill instructors or asdetailed recruiters.

•SF medics were excluded from the early-release programs because 18Dis an understrength MOS. Department of the Army policy is that nounderstrength MOS will participate in the drawdown programs. SFengineers at skill-level 3 could not participate for the same reason.

•Noncommissioned officers in MOS 18D enjoy healthy promotion selec-tion rates. In the last master-sergeant selection board, 18D had thehighest selection rate of CMF 18.

•The 18D retention rate is well above the Army average. The initial re-enlistment rate for 18D is 93 percent, as opposed to the Army averageof 46 percent. This high re-enlistment rate is partly due to a selectivere-enlistment bonus: 18D is the only SF MOS authorized a re-enlist-ment bonus. Currently the SRB for 18D is 2A, 2B. When MOS 18Dreaches PERSCOM’s program guidance, the SRB will most likely beterminated.

•The physician’s assistant program recently imposed a restriction thatapplicants not have more than eight years’ time in service. This policyhas constrained the accession of 18D soldiers into the program. TheSpecial Forces community had nothing to do with effecting this changein the selection criteria. The time-in-service restriction will allow PAcandidates to complete the PA training and to retire as commissionedofficers with 20 years of service.

•Currently, selected SF medics attend training that certifies them asemergency medical technicians-paramedics (EMT-P). When the SFmedical course moves to Fort Bragg, N.C., in FY 96, SF medics willhave the opportunity to gain EMT-P certification as part of the SpecialForces Qualification Course.

Anyone who has questions pertaining to MOS 18D professional develop-ment should contact the Special Operations Proponency Office, DSN239-9002/8423 or commercial (910) 432-9002; or the SF Branch at DSN221-8888.

SOPO addressesquestions on 18D

April 1995 49

Career-minded enlisted soldiers who have the desire to pursue a collegedegree and future leadership opportunities in the Army are candidatesfor the Green-to-Gold program. Once they have been approved for theprogram, active-duty soldiers are released from their service obligation toaccept scholarships in the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps. After com-pleting a degree program and the required ROTC courses and summercamps, scholarship winners earn commissions as second lieutenants.Scholarship winners receive financial assistance toward college tuitionand educational fees up to an annual amount of $12,000 (Tier I), $8,000(Tier II) or $5,000 (Tier III), based on the scholarship award. Each winneralso receives $450 per year for textbooks, supplies and required equip-ment. A tax-free subsistence allowance of $150 per month for up to 10months a school year is also part of the financial package.The tiered scholarship program is new and will permit greater tailoringin the award of funds to eligible applicants. The maximum availablescholarship has been increased to $12,000 annually. The tiered awardprogram will be applied beginning with scholarship winners for academicyear 1995-96.Two- and three-year scholarships are available for soldiers who havealready started college; four-year scholarships at designated schools areavailable for those who are just beginning.Soldiers who accept the scholarships and complete the commissioningprogram incur an eight-year service obligation, which can be served onactive duty or in the Army Reserve or National Guard.Green-to-Gold winners must be medically qualified to serve as commis-sioned officers in the U.S. Army, must meet Army height and weightstandards, be able to pass the Army Physical Fitness Test, and be noolder than 25 upon graduation and commissioning. An age waiver of up tofour years may be granted based upon time in service.Soldiers must also be high-school graduates or the equivalent, must havea minimum GT score of 110 (two- and three-year applicants only), a SATscore of 850 or an ACT score of 19 (three- and four-year applicants only).A letter of acceptance from a degree-producing college or university offer-ing ROTC, and letters of recommendation from company and battalioncommanders must be submitted as part of the application packet.Soldiers should contact their nearest ROTC department for informationand assistance in applying for the program. Soldiers overseas should con-tact their education center or the ROTC department of their school ofchoice. — 1st ROTC Region PAO

Green-to-Gold offers scholarships, commissions

SF need to be aware of latest developments in fire support

Selected personnel from our SFcompany recently participated in acommand-post exercise with VCorps. During this exercise I hadthe opportunity to learn aboutsome of the recent developmentsin fire support and some of thedevelopments planned for thefuture.

Over the last few years a newmissile has been introduced at thecorps level. The Army TacticalMissile System, or ATACMS, isvery accurate and can be firedfrom a multi-rocket launcher sys-tem. The MRLS can fire two mis-siles at a time.

The ATACMS are tube-launched,fin-stabilized, inertially guided mis-siles. They are part of the MTOEfor general-support artillery unitsassigned to corps and divisions.Currently, they are using the JEEmissile, which has an unclassifiedrange of 124 kilometers and carriesa payload of 950 baseball-sizedbomblets called M-74 anti-person-nel/anti-materiel munitions. Cov-ered with a titanium shell, theyexplode on impact and are extreme-ly effective against everything butthe thickest armor. The next gener-ation will have even a longer range(248 kilometers unclassified) andwill have global-positioning-systemguidance, making it even moreaccurate. Classified data is avail-able. Another future development,which has been named the JTCmissile, will have the ability toattack tanks it detects by soundand infrared sensors.

The range of this new technolo-gy has made it necessary forcorps’ deep operations to coordi-nate the use of airspace with boththe Air Force and Army aviation.Current firing systems can pro-cess the mission using both uni-versal-transverse-mercator gridsand geo coordinates.

Because its range is so great,the ATACMS gives new meaningto the term “area of operations.” Itwould benefit Special Forces to beaware of what this missile can doand how to call it in. TSOF teamsin front of the corps’ position oroutside the recon interdictionphase line can utilize this missileboth to interdict targets and toprotect themselves. They wouldhave to contact the forward opera-tional base, which, in turn wouldcontact the special-operations com-mand-and-control element, whichhas a liaison officer inside thecorps’ deep operations.

SFC Richard P. Milloy Jr.Co. B, 1/10th SF Group

Requirements for SOF support SQI should be more stringent

I remember some years agothere was much discussion withinthe special-operations communityabout getting the “S” identifier forspecial-operations support per-sonnel. This would enable thesepersonnel to be identified andassigned within the special-opera-tions community, thereby keepingqualified special-operations sol-diers in support jobs. I remember

CWO4 Harry D. Rider Jr. burningthe midnight oil in his basementoffice in Flint Kaserne at BadTölz to come up with a plan forthe 18-series MOS and the “S”identifier for support personnel.

In 1992 I finally saw the “S”identifier go into effect. I lookedat the guidelines for obtaining the“S” identifier and realized thatthe seriousness with which ChiefRider had pursued the issue hadsomehow been lost.

After the message came out,what I saw was every Tom, Dickand Harry putting in for the SQI.I saw folks requesting the “S”identifier who had been in theunit for less than two years, andin the Army less than three. Butbased on the guideline of takingpart in “exercises,” they meet therequirements. It did not matterthat these folks had no real con-cept of special operations (at thecompany and battalion levels),and had served only briefly at theSpecial Operations Support Com-mand level, or at the one- to four-star command level (SOCs over-seas, USASOC, USSOCOM).

I believe that in order to betterprovide support, personnel whohave the “S” identifier should havesome knowledge of how an ODA,ODB and ODC are structured.Many who have the “S” identifierhave no such idea, and, sadly,many could not care less. I feelthat the intent of Chief Rider, Col.Scot Crerar and others has beenlost. Consequently, many complainthat the “S” identifier does themno good because each MOS branchgives the identifier little, if any,consideration in assignments.

LettersSpecial Warfare

50 Special Warfare

If the guidelines for obtainingthe “S” were more stringent, per-haps the folks of TAPA wouldtake the SQI as seriously as wasthe original intent.

Sgt. Jerry GreenSpecial Operations Command

CentralMacDill AFB, Fla.

PT most unforgiving areaRecently I entered my office and

found the incoming and outgoingsergeants major fighting over ourcopy of the January 1995 SpecialWarfare. I asked that when theyfinished wrestling with it they letme take a look, too. When theybrought it in, I asked, “Are thereany good articles?” They said, “Yessir, the one on PT by RangerRoach.”

I was not surprised that twoSpecial Forces sergeants majorwith almost 50 years of experiencebetween them found the mostinteresting article in the magazineto be about PT. In my limited 18years of experience in the infantryand Special Forces, I have foundno other area in which the profes-sional soldier is as unforgiving asPT. In all good units, PT is whereofficers are tested first. All theirability to quote history, expoundon the latest doctrine and impressothers with their computer skillsis destroyed by the first rucksackmarch or run that they fall out of.

In 1986-1988, Ranger Roach,who was a battalion commander,gave his battalion staff a hard hourof PT every Friday using the con-tinuous-motion exercise. The rest ofthe week, he visited a different A-team in each company. It was thegoal of each A-team in my companyto make PT so hard for him that hewouldn’t come back, but he alwaysreturned for more after he hadchecked the other teams. Somemight call this getting into a com-

pany commander’s business. I callit leading from the front.

In working at a corps HQ, wehave found that conventionalforces expect SOF to be in the bestof physical condition. A corpsneeds to know the best way toemploy SF, Rangers and PSYOP,but the constant remarks of theofficers and NCOs that “Your stan-dards screw up the curve on theAPFT,” tell me they care about PTas well. Believe me, those conven-tional guys are watching to seewhether you’ll go the extra mile.While running the airfield at FortLewis one weekend in the rain, Inoticed someone waving hisencouragement — it was the corpscommander.

Our section has set a goal toscore 300 on the APFT. Since ouraverage age is 39, some of us haveto work harder to attain this goal.Each man draws upon hisstrengths to push himself and oth-ers. As a result, we all improve inour strong and weak areas. Thereis still plenty of time for thosetechnical skills after 90 minutes ofhard PT. After all, Ranger Roachis one of the sharpest officers Ihave ever known on history, tac-tics or a computer, but he neverwas mad if I turned his computeroff for an airfield run.

Lt. Col. Ralph E. Saner Jr.G-3, SOCOORDI CorpsFort Lewis, Wash.

Magazine needs more professional discussion

Since its first publication, I havebeen a subscriber to Special War-fare. Although I have found it to bea good publication, I think it couldbe improved with the addition of afeature that encourages frank pro-fessional commentary, commentsand reflections. I know of no pat-tern for such in Army publications.

They tend to be rather dry itera-tions of the nearest service school’smost newly beloved doctrine, fre-quently pressured from vulnerablefaculty.

The naval services, despite theirreputation for adherence to tradi-tionalism, are ahead of the Armyin the area of professional com-mentary. The Marine CorpsGazette frequently has wide-rang-ing discussions on doctrinal andtactical matters, and the NavalInstitute’s Proceedings have anexcellent forum titled “No OneAsked Me, But ...” The contents ofthese publications often espousepositions that are markedly differ-ent from the pronouncements ofthe higher leadership. Clearly thewriters consider their communica-tions to be open and do not fearretribution for thinking and writ-ing heretically. Their hazardappears to be limited to embar-rassment if their ideas are seen astoo fey by some readers.

I think it would be educationaland healthy if SW had a similarforum where readers could try outtheir thoughts, describe theirexperiences and comment on pre-vious articles — in short, any sub-ject that has any relationship toSpecial Forces.

Retired Col. Scot CrerarVienna, Va.

We believe the suggestion for asection featuring comments andcommentary is a valid one. Infact, in our January issue we pub-lished, in the “Letters” section, asolicitation to our readers formore comments, letters and dis-cussion of SOF issues. We hope tocreate in Special Warfare a forumfor ideas that will promotethought and discussion. — Editor.

April 1995 51

Foreign SOFSpecial Warfare

52 Special Warfare

Separatist movement growsin East Timor

South African military, police forces

form security task force

Internal and external security problems have increased the importance ofmilitary-police cooperation in South Africa. In neighboring Mozambique’sgeneral elections in late October 1994, the Mozambique Liberation Front,or Frelimo, won a highly contested election over its archrival, the Mozam-bique National Resistance, or Renamo, following several years of civilwar. Prior to the election, South Africa’s concerns caused the country todeploy a combined task force composed of the South African NationalDefense Force, or SANDF, and South African police elements along itsborder with Mozambique. The task force increased patrols along the bor-der to deal with refugees and conflict spillover in the event the electionssparked fresh civil war between Frelimo and Renamo. Various SANDFelements have continued their involvement in other law-enforcement andsecurity-force roles, including crime-prevention and border-patrol duties.This shared mission marks continuing joint efforts by military and policepersonnel to deal with internal-security problems.

Discontent with Indonesian rule is escalating among the younger genera-tion of East Timor, particularly those citizens born since the island’sannexation during the mid-1970s. East Timor — comprising half of Timorisland off northern Australia — was ruled by Portugal until it was invad-ed by Indonesia in 1975. The invasion followed a period of civil strifebrought about by Portugal’s withdrawal as colonial administrator.Indonesia formally annexed East Timor the following year, an act still notrecognized by the United Nations. While the United States recognizesIndonesia’s annexation of the area, long-standing American policy stress-es that East Timor must be heard on the issue of its status within theRepublic of Indonesia. The Revolutionary Front for an Independent EastTimor, or Fretilin, has routinely conducted guerrilla actions ever sincethe 1975 invasion. According to current estimates, Fretilin forces aresmall, numbering less than 200 personnel. However, the growing popularresentment of Indonesia became embarrassingly evident in November1994 during the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation meeting attended byU.S. President Bill Clinton. Some 29 East Timorese scaled a fence sur-rounding the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta and occupied the embassy com-pound for two weeks. They demanded the release of Timorese resistanceleader Zenana Gizmo, jailed for leading an armed uprising, and askedPresident Clinton to intercede on behalf of the East Timor people. Simul-taneous rioting in the East Timor capital of Dili left four dead and sawadditional clashes with police. These continuing incidents, the rising sep-aratist sentiment and a clear polarization of East Timor’s younger gener-ation characterize the island as a potential hotspot. Indonesia maintainsan 800-man combat battalion and six territorial battalions, totaling 4,522personnel, on the island. While territorial units primarily conduct nation-building activities, they also are expected to support combat operationsand counterguerrilla actions.

April 1995 53

Continuing armed conflict and turmoil from the Caucasus to Central Asiahave attracted outside participants with a sweeping array of affiliationsand interests. The variety of combatants illustrates especially well the com-plexity of ethno-national-religious issues in the region and the many agen-das associated with regional instability. Several incidents are notable:Early in 1994, Armenian forces in the disputed region of Nagorno-Karabakh captured and displayed for public view several “Afghan muja-hedin” extremists who had been fighting on behalf of Azeri army forces. Asmany as 2,500 Afghans have reportedly been serving as mercenaries forMuslim Azeri forces. The Afghan government acknowledges the problembut claims no state involvement.More recently, a Russian report indicated that three “assault elements” ofAfghan mujahedin had been dispatched from Azerbaijan to the ChechenRepublic — still considered part of Russia despite its claims to indepen-dence. The mujahedin were expected to join the forces of the Chechen presi-dent, who is challenging Moscow’s authority and is also engaged in anongoing civil war. This report was of particular concern to Russia, becauseit marked the first known use of Azeri territory as a staging area for Islam-ic extremists sent to operate in Russia and in other countries of the Com-monwealth of Independent States.The Azeri-populated Republic of Nakhichevan (inside Armenia and border-ing Turkey and Iran) was the site of a September 1994 operation conductedby Turkish and Azeri forces against separatists of the Kurdish Worker’sParty, or PKK. About 30 PKK militants were reportedly captured. ThePKK, which is heavily involved in drug trafficking as a means of organiza-tional support, is believed to have training camps in Armenia, from whichmembers cross through Nakhichevan into Iran and then into Turkey tocarry out operations against the Turkish government.The Central Asian state of Tajikistan, which borders Afghanistan and isthe site of a continuing civil war, has attracted numerous foreign militantsand trainers with Islamic affiliations. According to Russian Border Troops,who by agreement guard the Afghan-Tajik frontier, captured documentssubstantiate the presence of militants from Iran, Afghanistan, Libya,Oman, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. In particular, the Bor-der Troops have noted a marked improvement in opposition-force ambushand attack skills since the arrival of “Arab mercenaries.”

Central Eurasian conflictattracts foreign involvement

Mexico identifies arms trafficking as major problem

The Mexican Attorney General’s Office has identified gunrunning as agrowing Mexican problem. The demand for guns by criminal groups andby guerrillas is said to be a major cause of the problem, along with theproximity of the United States, which the attorney general’s office callsthe “world’s largest manufacturer of all types of weapons.” It is assertedthat the movement of weapons from the U.S. into Mexico is a dimensionof the overall problem. The Mexican media has also addressed the exis-tence of financial support for guerrilla groups from American and Euro-pean church and civic organizations. The Mexican government’s Februarydecision to more actively confront EZLN guerrillas in southern Mexicowas linked, in part, to the claimed discovery of arms caches.

Articles in this section are written by Dr. Graham H. Turbiville Jr., Maj. Thomas E. Sidwell and Maj. Mark Mills of the Foreign Military Studies Office, Combined Arms Command, Fort Leavenworth, Kan.

UpdateSpecial Warfare

USASOC authorizes MFF badges

Special-operations forces quali-fied in military free-fall are nowauthorized to wear new, distinctivebadges for one of the military’s mostdemanding and hazardous skills.

A U.S. Army Special OperationsCommand policy outlining applica-tions procedures and wear of themilitary free-fall, or MFF,parachutist and jumpmaster badgesfor Army SOF was approved Dec. 9,1994, by Lt. Gen. J.T. Scott,USASOC commanding general.Gen. Wayne A. Downing, comman-der in chief, U.S. Special OperationsCommand, approved the badges forMFF parachutists and jumpmas-ters Oct. 1, 1994.

Active-duty and reserve SOF per-sonnel assigned or attached toUSASOC or to one of its subordi-nate commands or units may wearthe MFF badges while assigned tothese units, said Capt. Gary L.Forbes, plans officer for theUSASOC Deputy Chief of Staff forPersonnel.

Personnel may also wear thebadges when assigned or attachedto USSOCOM headquarters or toone of its component commands.When service members leave aUSASOC or USSOCOM unit, theyare no longer authorized to wearthe badges, Forbes said. Thebadges may not be worn for officialphotographs.

Parachutists may wear thebadges once they have completed anapproved MFF course or have madean MFF combat jump. The jump-master badge is worn by those whohave completed an approved MFF

jumpmaster course.Soldiers must obtain authoriza-

tion before wearing the badges,Forbes said. The commanding gen-eral of the Special Warfare Centerand School is the approving author-ity for students who graduate fromthe MFF parachutist and jumpmas-ter courses after Oct. 1, 1994. TheUSSOCOM commander is the

approving authority for all otherapplicants.

USASOC major subordinate com-mands are conducting an ad hocquery to identify soldiers who haveearned MFF skill identifiers, Forbessaid. After May 1, applicationsmust be submitted directly to theSWCS G-1 for validation.

Army SOF personnel who quali-fied in MFF before Oct. 1, 1994,must submit written application forauthorization to wear the badges,

Forbes said. Copies of official jumprecords and graduation or qualifica-tion certificates, along with basicpersonal information, are requiredto verify an applicant’s eligibility.Once qualification is verified, appli-cations will be sent to USSOCOMfor approval.

Placement of the MFF badge isprescribed in AR 670-1, Wear andAppearance of Army Uniforms andInsignia. “An important fact wemust emphasize to everyone is thatthe MFF badge is not to be worn inlieu of the parachutist badge, but inconjunction with it,” Forbes said.“The MFF badge is considered to bea group-four badge, such as theparachutist and air-assault badges.Recent changes to AR 670-1 allowonly five badges to be worn at anyone time. Three of the five may befrom group four, meaning that asoldier may wear the MFF,parachutist and air-assault badgesat the same time.”

A winged dagger pointing sky-ward beneath a deployed squareparachute canopy gives the badgedesign a historical significance andrecognizes SOF MFF capabilities.The MFF jumpmaster badge is setapart from the other badge by afive-point star surrounded by awreath centered above theparachute.

Veterans of combat MFF opera-tions are authorized a bronze starto be worn on their MFF badge. Thecombat jump must be verified andthe bronze service star authorizedbefore the star can be worn. Appli-cation must be made through thesame procedure as for the basicMFF badge. — Carol Jones,USASOC PAO

54 Special Warfare

Designs copyright James Phillips

The new MFF badges: parachutist (top) andjumpmaster.

Clearinghouse seeks innovative ideas

To help maintain pace with anincreasingly complex and changingworld, the U.S. Special OperationsCommand is seeking innovativeideas from anyone who has a betterway to do things.

The SOF Clearinghouse wasestablished in January 1994 byGen. Wayne A. Downing. Its pur-pose is to provide a means of har-nessing, nurturing and disseminat-ing innovative ideas throughout thecommand. The Clearinghouseseeks suggestions relating to spe-cial operations from anyone,whether active-duty, reserve orcivilian. Topics may include, butare not limited to, organizationalstructure, roles and missions, edu-cation, training, employment con-cepts, personnel policies and com-mand relationships.

Contributions need not be sub-mitted in any particular format, noris it necessary to submit themthrough the chain of command. TheClearinghouse cannot accept classi-fied material or suggestions relatedto current operations.

The Clearinghouse will acknowl-edge and evaluate each submission.It will either accept the idea, helpthe author to develop the conceptfurther, or explain to the authorwhy the suggestion cannot beaccepted. Credit will be given forthose suggestions accepted.

Proposals should be mailed to theSOF Clearinghouse, HQ USSO-COM (SOCC-CIG), 7701 TampaPoint Blvd., MacDill AFB, FL33621-5323; or faxed to DSN 299-5109 or commercial (813) 840-5109.For more information, call Lt. Col.Brad Washabaugh, DSN 968-2646or commercial (813) 828-2646.

New manual defines peace operations

The Army has published its firstfield manual defining the principlesof peacekeeping operations.

Field Manual 100-23, PeaceOperations, will be used as thebasis for training soldiers and lead-ers in conducting peace operationsaround the world.

“With this manual, the Armycontinues the broadening of itspost-Cold War doctrine: doctrinethat is focused on warfighting, yetaccommodates employment acrossthe full range of operations,” saidGen. William W. Hartzog, comman-der of the Army Training and Doc-trine Command.

“The discipline, the responsive-ness to a chain of command, thetype of training that soldiersreceive that enables them to fightand win wars apply to peace opera-tions,” said Rich Rinaldo, one of thewriters of the manual.

In developing FM 100-23, doc-trine writers used lessons learnedfrom recent operations such asRestore Hope in Somalia and Pro-vide Comfort in Iraq. Historicalcases were also used, including the1900 Boxer Rebellion in China andthe United Nations Operation inthe Congo in 1960.

Soldiers earn DoD medal for Haitian service

Military personnel who served inor directly supported OperationUphold Democracy in Haiti willreceive the Armed Forces Expedi-tionary Medal.

Army Gen. John M. Sha-likashvili, chairman of the jointchiefs of staff, authorized the awardin late December. The award’sopening date is Sept. 16, 1994, theday initial deployments to Haitibegan. No closing date has been set.

The award is limited to UpholdDemocracy participants who actu-ally served within a roughly 300-square-mile operations area cen-tered on Haiti. Personnel who werenot assigned to deployed units mayqualify for the award if they meetat least one specific guideline:

• Served 30 consecutive days or

60 nonconsecutive days in the areaof operation;

• Served in combat or hazardousduty during the operation witharmed opposition, regardless oftime in the area;

• Served as an aircraft crewmember flying regular missions inthe operation area;

• Received recommendation forthe award from the service chief orcommander of a unified command.

SFAS graduates profiledInformation from the SWCS

research data base yields the fol-lowing profiles of typical selecteesfrom the Special Forces Assess-ment and Selection program:

Enlisted personnel• Sergeant (E-5)• 25 years old• Have one year of college• Have five years in the Army• Have a GT score of 118• Achieve a PT score of 244 (17-

year-old standard).Officers

• Captain (O-3)• 28 years old• Ranger-qualified• Achieve a PT score of 260 (17-

year-old standard).

4th POG soldiers receiveBronze Stars

Seven members of the 4thPSYOP Group received BronzeStars in December for exceptionallymeritorious service in operations inSomalia in 1993.

In a Fort Bragg ceremony, Lt.Gen. J.T. Scott, commander of theU.S. Army Special Operations Com-mand, presented the medals to Maj.Gray L. Nichols, Maj. Robert J. Nel-son, SSgt. James M. Kalanui, Sgt.Patrick A. McKeever, Spec. CurtisAgee, Spec. Roger Blankenship andSpec. Travis Ernst.

April 1995 55

Book ReviewsSpecial Warfare

We Were Soldiers Once ... andYoung. By retired Lt. Gen. HaroldG. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway.New York: Harper Perennial, 1993.ISBN 0-06-097576-8. 471 pages,$13.

This book is, without question,the best volume written to date oninfantry combat in Vietnam.

There are a number of featuresthat distinguish this book from thechronicles of others. First and fore-most, it was written by two menwho were there in November 1965at Landing Zone X-Ray, in the IaDrang Valley, for the first majorbattle between the forces of NorthVietnam and the men of the 1stBattalion, 7th Cavalry. HaroldMoore, then a lieutenant colonel incommand of the 1/7, and Joe Gal-loway, a noted war correspondent,provide a blow-by-blow account ofone of the most savage battles of theVietnam War.

The book is gutsy, absolutelyrealistic and filled with heart-rending and inspiring examples ofcommon men caught in the meatgrinder of combat and rising to theoccasion through the performanceof uncommon acts of bravery andheroism — many of which wentunrecognized because so many ofthe participants did not survivethe battle. The book lays open themost horrifying ordeals faced bymen in close combat. Moore andGalloway must have spent yearsconducting interviews with theprivates, sergeants, and youngofficers who fought the battleeither as individual or as membersof squads, platoons or companies.Moore himself provides insights

into his thinking as the groundcommander as events of the battleunfolded. He discusses how heused artillery and close air supportto halt the multiple attacks of theNorth Vietnamese and how heattempted to employ his men inthe most desperate of circum-stances — inflicting maximumdamage on the enemy while con-serving his combat power as besthe could.

Moore and Galloway returned toVietnam 25 years after the battle toconduct interviews with the enemycommanders. These interviews pro-vide key insights into the thinkingof the Vietnamese commanders andtheir leadership. The Vietnamesehad never faced large numbers ofAmericans on the battlefield before.Their orders were to win at anycost. The North Vietnamese mili-tary leadership felt that their firstmajor battle with the Americansmust be a victory — which explains

why the fighting at LZ X-Ray wasso ferocious and unyielding.

Moore and Galloway also inter-viewed some of the families wholost sons and husbands at LZ X-Ray. These interviews provide alook at “the other face of war” sel-dom examined by contemporarymilitary writers — the devastatingeffects those losses had on Ameri-can families. The sacrifices madeby those left at home are as movingas any acts of heroism accom-plished by the soldiers of the 7thCavalry on the battlefield.

The book discusses only brieflythe American political/militarystrategy in Vietnam; it is not aboutthe failure of the American politicalsystem in the conduct of the Viet-nam War. The book is about sol-diers in combat — up close and per-sonal. If you can read this bookwithout being deeply emotionallyaffected, you have no heart.

This is not a book to be readquickly. Because so many first-per-son narratives are included, it issometimes difficult to follow everysoldier’s story. This is meant as nocriticism of Moore and Galloway’sefforts. The first-person narrativesof the soldiers who fought the battleadd immeasurably to the book’srealism. The book accuratelyreflects, as well as a book can, theterrifyingly tumultuous events ofcombat — the gut-wrenching fear,bone-numbing fatigue, exhilarationand comradeship that only combatveterans can know. If you read onlyone book this year, make it this one.

Lt. Col. Robert B. Adolph Jr.Joint Special Operations Cmd.Fort Bragg, N.C.

56 Special Warfare

The Guts to Try: The UntoldStory of the Iran Hostage Res-cue Mission by the On-SceneDesert Commander. By retiredCol. James H. Kyle. New York:Orion Books, 1990. ISBN: 0-517-57714-3. 352 pages. $21.95.

Col. Jim Kyle has written theinsider’s guide to Desert One. It isby far the most direct and accuratedepiction of Operation Eagle Claw,the attempt to rescue the Ameri-cans held hostage in Iran in 1980.Other works have sketched thetraining and planning for whatwould have been the “takedown” ofthe sites at which the Americanswere held; others have criticizedthe hand dealt the men who madethe attempt; others have discussedthe seemingly fatal obsession withOPSEC in the planning and train-ing and the White House view; butnone are written from the opera-tional vantage point provided by“Kemo” Kyle.

Kyle’s book is written by a spe-cial-operations professional wholived the entire experience. Hisrivetting tale spills forth from theground-up planning and the give-and-take of forming the joint taskforce, through the exhaustive andrealistic rehearsals (which havesince become the standard of suchoperations), the “go/no-go” deci-sion-making at the highest levelsof our government, the euphoricexecution, the “abort from hell,”and the official and personal after-action review of what must havebeen gut-wrenching proportions.

As one of the participants soaptly put it at a most propitiouspoint in the operation, this was the“Super Bowl” of U.S. military spe-cial operations, and although it didnot succeed, the sheer magnitude ofthe obstacles in the path to successwere such that no other nationcould even have contemplatedmounting such an effort. While itwould be left to the Holloway Com-mission and the U.S. Congress to

sort out the aftermath, the Britishwho shared the airport from whichsome were launched and to whichsome fewer returned, could havesaved much of the effort that fol-lowed. They provided the messagefrom which the title is taken, “Toyou-all from us-all, for having theguts to try,” delivered with typicalBritish understatement andaplomb.

Questions may be raised aboutthe relevance of a highly personalwork concerning the “pickup ballgame” which went terribly awry inthe Iranian Desert. After all, shouldnot the Goldwater-Nichols reform,

USSOCOM, Program 11 budgeting,sub-unified command special-opera-tions commands in every theater,AC and RC Special Forces groups, afull Ranger regiment, the best coun-terterrorism force in the world,Army, Air Force, and Navy special-operations commands, all in somepart due to the efforts of profession-als like Kyle, have obviated thenecessity to study the lessonslearned there? Ask that question ofthe unit members of the 1st Battal-ion, 160th Special Operations Avia-tion Regiment; the 3rd Battalion,75th Ranger Regiment; and theU.S. Army Special Operations Com-

mand. For while the operationswere as different as night and day,questions concerning the strategicobjectives were as relevant in Iranin 1980 as in Somalia in 1993. If wecan be said to have “low-tech-ed”Eagle Claw, did we not perhaps“high-tech” Gothic Serpent, and ifthe results were similar, are therenot lessons to be learned from both?

The “new world order,” “opera-tions other than war,” “coalitionwarfare” and other current buzz-words seem as new and differenttoday to most special operators asthe current SOF superstructurewould have seemed to Kyle, Kingand their compatriots at the time ofOperation Eagle Claw. While thespecifics may not seem relevant,lessons learned anywhere in thecrucible of combat, including macrodecisions at echelons above reality,should never have to be relearnedby the next generation of soldiers,statesmen or diplomats.

To that end, this book is highlyrecommended. It can be appreciat-ed and applied by both the noviceand the most experienced special-operations professional. While theHolloway Commission report fitsthe same category, it is not oftenthat a first-person source is avail-able to flesh out the officialaccount. The Guts to Try is mustreading for those who are headingfor joint special-operations billetsand for those who count themselvesas serious practitioners of the spe-cial-operations craft. As those whoread the book will know, whileEagle Claw might have been apickup ball game, it was an all-starpickup ball game. We had no finermilitary professionals in our inven-tory than those who strove atDesert One.

Col. Henry Watson III OASD-SO/LIC

April 1995 57

This publication is approved for public release; distribution is unlimited ■ Headquarters, Department of the Army

Special Warfare

Department of the ArmyJFK Special Warfare Center and SchoolATTN: AOJK – DT – PBMFort Bragg, NC 28307 – 5000

PIN: 073630–000