by Tom Clancy
The generals went off to talk, and returned much chastened. “Let us put this behind us,” General Elmi announced. “There will be no war.” He went on to explain that a difficult-to-control rogue militia had been manning the AWSS. “We regret the problems they’ve caused,” he said. “We’ll put pressure on them to stop.”
We had no more trouble from them.
Much of the violence on the streets of Mogadishu comes in midafternoon, when young thugs have started feeling the khat they’ve been chewing all day. Khat leaves (a mild, inhibition-removing narcotic) were flown into dirt airstrips each morning and quickly moved to market stalls to sell before they lost their potency. All morning, we’d see chewers’ bulging checks all over town. By three in the afternoon, the gangs of hostile young men were feeling they could take on the world. The occasional violent confrontations with our patrols ended badly for the khat-chewers in every instance.
Thugs and shooters weren’t the only security problem. We also got thieves — incredibly brazen thieves who’d risk their lives to steal anything, no matter how little it was worth.
One night, thieves came over a wall near a squad of Marines. The thieves were gunned down before anyone realized they were unarmed.
We later turned over the perimeter security of our compound to a less effective coalition force. But then another band of thieves came over the wall at night and made their way into our building. Voices whispering in Somali woke me up. I grabbed my pistol, ran into the corridor, and watched two men fleeing out of the building. Moments later, I heard shouts and scuffling; our sergeant major and General Johnston’s aide had seized one of them.
I quickly made the commander of the coalition force responsible for compound security aware of my displeasure. Though he assured me that he’d fix the problem, I didn’t sleep well after that, and checked his positions often.
Much more frustrating were the young street urchins. Some threw rocks at our convoys and patrols — not a smart idea, given our advantages in firepower. But worse were their attempts to grab loot by swarming our trucks as they passed through the streets. Intelligence reports that kids might be used to place bombs on the trucks made a bad problem worse. After our security troops had to shoot and kill a few of the young thieves, we started looking for ways to block the kids without hurting anyone. “There must be some way to apply less than lethal force,” we told ourselves. Nobody wants to kill kids.
One day, I was walking past our makeshift motor pool at the embassy and noticed troops gathered around a truck, testing a strange device. It only took me a moment to figure out what it was — a jury-rigged electric prod attached to the truck’s battery.
I gave them credit for their innovation, but not for their judgment. The prod was not a workable solution to the nonlethal problem. I could see a CNN shot of a Somali kid getting zapped. We needed a better, more permanent answer. But when we asked the Pentagon for some sort of approved, nonlethal capability, the best we could get was small cans of pepper spray. Though these were no more potent than the pepper spray you might find in a lady’s purse back home, they came — unbelievably — with an exhaustive training program and rules of engagement. Our troops had to implement the program and familiarize themselves with the ROEs before they could use them. Bureaucracy at work… a spray can is a spray can.
I knew this problem would surely come back to haunt us in future operations and made a mental note to address it.
Though security was our primary mission, other demands were hardly less pressing: We ran the ports and airfields, conducted extensive psyops and civic action programs, undertook major engineer projects to repair and rebuild the infrastructure, and provided medical support.
Our medical units also had a tough task keeping our own force healthy in this harsh and dangerous environment. By the end of the operation, we had suffered eight killed in action, twenty-four non-battle deaths (one from a shark attack), twenty-four wounded in action, and 2,853 illness and injury cases (including snakebites).
One of my responsibilities was to coordinate our psychological and tactical operations.
Though there were plenty of sources of “information,” the Somalis had little access to accurate news accounts. Most Somali news sources — notably, Aideed’s — were nothing but propaganda… much of it inflammatory. We published leaflets and a newspaper, and set up a radio station, to counter the lies. The paper and radio station, which were called “Rajo”—“hope” in Somali — made Aideed very unhappy; and he counterattacked through his own radio station. A period of “radio wars” ensued.
When he summoned me to his compound to complain about our broadcasts, I told him we’d tone down our broadcasts when he toned down his own inflammatory rhetoric. He agreed.
Another victory for nonviolent engagement.
The months to follow would show that the UN had failed to learn this lesson. Instead of countering Aideed’s hostile media blasts in kind, they tried to close down his radio station. Freedom of the press has to work both ways; we don’t shut down radio stations just because we don’t like what is broadcast. The resulting confrontation was the opening of the violent war between the UN and Aideed.
All the while, we did not want for VIP visitors — including President George Bush.
President Bush visited us on New Year’s Day, a few days before he was to leave office. It was a grand sendoff.
General Aideed even sent a huge cake as a welcoming gift, all adorned with a portrait of the President and Aideed standing side by side beneath U.S. and Somali flags. The cake, uneaten, stayed in our admin office for several days until one of the troops noticed that it was the only thing around the place that never had flies on it. He was right. I told him to get rid of it.
The best moment of Bush’s visit came when he visited our troops. The President really connected with our guys. As he walked through their ranks to a microphone, their enthusiastic cheers visibly moved him, leaving him visibly close to tears.
I’ll never forget that scene.
Unfortunately, the President did not bring with him the news we’d hoped for — plans for the UN to assume our mission. Though we’d been led to believe that talks had been going on, we were disappointed to learn that nothing had been arranged with the UN. The Clinton administration would have to pick up on the transition from us to them. This was not a job you want to drop on a brand-new administration.
As February turned into March, our efforts were increasingly focused on stabilizing the positive environment UNITAF had created and promoting the political agreements Oakley was skillfully piecing together. During this time I met frequently with Aideed, the other warlords, and the various committees, trying to keep things calm and to hold agreements together.
The UN, meanwhile, continued to fight us hard on the transition and handover front. While this process dragged on, I worked on the plan to turn over the mission to them.
The Secretary-General had presented us with a series of nonnegotiable demands. Unless we agreed to them, there’d be no transition. For starters, he wanted UNITAF to stay after UNOSOM II took over. He wanted full U.S. involvement in any follow-on UN operation. And he insisted on a U.S. Quick Reaction Force, U.S. logistics support, and a senior American leader to act as his special representative to head the operation. He got everything he asked for.
Even so, the UN was painfully slow to take the reins of the operation. In February, Boutros-Ghali appointed a respected Turkish lieutenant general, Cevik Bir, as the UNOSOM II force commander. An American Army major general, Tom Montgomery, became his deputy. Another American, Jonathan Howe, a four-star admiral and President Bush’s former Deputy National Security Adviser, took over from Kittani the job of Boutros-Ghali’s special representative. Robert Oakley left Somalia on March 3 in order to make way for Howe. Oakley was sorely missed.
The official handover date was March 26, but we continued to run the operation until we finally left on May 4. In effect, the UNITAF staff commanded the new UNOSOM II force. Th
e UNOSOM staff simply sat on their duffs, refusing to accept command, but kibitzing over all our decisions and actions. It was weird to have two staffs officially overseeing the same force. In fact, we were actually commanding both forces, ours and theirs, while they were sitting there trying to set policy for future operations.
The UN plan that they intended to implement was vastly different from Oakley’s. Where Oakley was steering a course that encouraged the Somalis to determine their own fate, UNOSOM II had a specific political outcome in mind. They sought to rebuild the nation of Somalia into a thriving democracy of their design, with the UN dictating who would participate in the political process. (They intended to exclude General Aideed, for instance.) We saw trouble on the horizon. In our view, the UN plan was overly ambitious, and grossly underestimated the power and support of the faction leaders, as well as the historical Somali animosity toward the UN. It was a recipe for disaster.
By the time Oakley left in March, the atmosphere on the political front had drastically changed.
We turned over the command to UNOSOM II on May 4, 1993. UNOSOM arranged a grand ceremony with dancers and singers.
After the ceremony, I drove with Bob Johnston to the airport. As our two Humvees wound through the narrow streets, he was very quiet, deep in thought. Suddenly he ordered a stop, and had the vehicles pull over to a nearby curb where several children were standing. At his direction, we got out of the vehicles, and he gathered all our pens and pencils and gave them to the kids (who all seemed pleased to get them). After his little act of charity, he slowly swung his gaze around. Something was obviously weighing on his mind.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
He looked up at the bright sunny sky. “I give this place thirty days,” he said, “and then it’s all going to go to hell.”
Thirty-one days later, his prediction came true.
BACK TO QUANTICO
Zinni quickly resettled into his job as the MCCDC deputy commander at Quantico, but with events in Somalia never far from his thoughts. As he resumed the old routines, he stayed in close contact with Bob Oakley, participating with the former ambassador in Somalia-related speaking engagements and conferences on humanitarian and peacekeeping operations.
His Marine Corps career, meanwhile, continued to advance. Back in Somalia, he had been selected and frocked as a major general. That is, he was entitled to wear the rank but would not receive the increase in pay or the actual grade until his number for promotion actually came up several months later. The promotion meant he would be reassigned sometime within the year — hopefully back to the operational forces and possibly command of a division.
On June 5, 1993, a clash in Mogadishu between mobs loyal to General Aideed and Pakistani troops under UNOSOM resulted in the deaths of twenty-four Pakistanis and an unknown number of Somalis. Aideed was instantly blamed for the tragedy; and blame soon escalated into demonization. The UNOSOM II leadership stepped up their policy of marginalizing Aideed and putting the squeeze on his followers. Within days, UNOSOM II and Aideed forces had plunged into a raging war, with high casualties on both sides.
The growing conflict called into question the credibility of the U.S. mission in Somalia; Congress and the media went on the attack. General Johnston’s prediction was coming true: the tragedy of Somalia was growing worse by the day; and Zinni could do nothing but watch from the sidelines.
A few weeks later, Zinni attended a course at Maxwell Air Force Base for new two-star generals and flag officers, with much of the classroom discussion centering on the growing conflict in Somalia — as representing an emerging form of serious U.S. military involvement. The final class featured a distinguished guest, Representative Newt Gingrich, who continued the debate. The congressman was obviously concerned about the U.S. part in the Somalia tragedy. After it came out that Zinni had been the UNITAF director of operations, Gingrich drew him aside and picked his brain. This casual meeting had consequences. It was to lead to Zinni’s return to Somalia.
Several weeks later, on October 3, news came of the horrific battle in the streets of Mogadishu between Special Operations Forces and Aideed’s militia. Rangers and Delta Force operatives had snatched several key Aideed aides in a surprise raid. Aideed’s militia had counterattacked with automatic weapons and RPGs, pinning down the Rangers and Deltas and shooting down a pair of Army Black Hawks. An attempted rescue by the Quick Reaction Force got bogged down, and in the firefight that followed, eighteen U.S. soldiers were killed and seventy-eight wounded. Hundreds of Somalis lost their lives. An American helicopter pilot, Chief Warrant Officer Michael Durant, was wounded and then captured by the militia; and a dead U.S. soldier was brutally dragged through the streets. The American public was outraged.
Within hours of the battle, Zinni received a call from Congressman Gingrich: There was to be a bipartisan meeting at the White House. “What do you think we should do about Somalia?” the Congressman asked. “Should we pull out, or should we send in significant forces to continue the fighting?”
“If those are the only choices,” Zinni replied, “then we should pull out. Sending in more combat forces just means more casualties — civilians included — and a lot more destruction. It’s not worth it.”
“What other options do we have?”
“The best option is to get the fighting stopped and move the situation back to where it had been when UNITAF closed down.”
“Who could possibly accomplish that?”
“Bob Oakley.”
Two days later, Zinni was up late watching the baseball playoffs when a call came in from General Mundy, the commandant. “You’re to report to Andrews Air Force Base tomorrow morning at six,” Mundy said. “By order of the White House, and at the request of Ambassador Oakley, you are to accompany the ambassador on a special mission to Somalia.”
“Yes, sir,” Zinni answered. “I’ll be on the plane.”
“By the way,” General Mundy asked, “do you know how this came about?”
“Newt Gingrich got it in his head that I know something about Somalia; he called the other day and asked who could make things better over there. I told him ‘Bob Oakley.’ ”
“Good luck.”
Zinni ordered up a car, packed his bags, then made a quick call to Oakley. “It looks like I’m going to Somalia with you,” Zinni said.
“Well, you got me into this,” Oakley answered, “so you’re coming along.”
“How long will we be gone?”
“I’m not sure. But plan on several months.”
Zinni repacked his bags.
The next morning, October 7, he met Oakley at Andrews AFB.
“What’s the plan?” Zinni asked.
“We’ll work that out on the plane.”
BACK TO SOMALIA
Tony Zinni:
After the Air Force C-20 took off, Oakley told me that our first stop was Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, to solicit President Meles Zenawi’s help. Meles and the Eritreans had connections in Mogadishu who could communicate with Aideed’s faction.
Later, Oakley described his meeting at the White House. It was clear that he’d been given little guidance. The President expected him to use his own judgment.
For the remainder of the long flight to Addis Ababa, we worked out tasks we wanted to accomplish. We had no doubt that we’d run into other pressing problems on the ground that would change them — or render them obsolete; but these would give us a starting point.
The first two steps were absolutes. Accomplishing them was a necessary condition for further progress:
First, get a cease-fire in place to stop the violence and allow us to open the dialogue.
Second, get the prisoners released.
In addition to Warrant Officer Durant, Aideed also held Umar Shantali, a Nigerian soldier captured in earlier fighting. “These prisoners have to be released unconditionally,” Oakley told me. “America does not negotiate for hostages.”
We knew this would be a tough sell; the p
risoners gave Aideed a lot of leverage. We had to convince his people that giving them up was in everyone’s interest.
Once we’d gotten through that hurdle, the third task was to reestablish a Security Committee like the one that had so effectively de-conflicted problems during the UNITAF operation.
Fourth, organize another humanitarian conference in Addis Ababa, possibly as soon as the following month (November 1993).
Previous conferences had successfully gained agreements — though these had never been fully accepted by UNOSOM II.
Fifth, explore the possibility of reducing the UNOSOM II force presence in southern Mogadishu, Aideed’s turf. During the UNITAF operation, we had tried to set up our logistics lines elsewhere, but without total success. The road, port, and airfield facilities in Mogadishu were unfortunately the only viable infrastructure that could handle the demands of the operation. We decided to look at this again, anyway.
Sixth, the Aideed problem. How much of the current fighting was his responsibility? How much should he be held accountable for it? Should we work with him? Could we work with him?
Admiral Howe, the Secretary-General’s special representative, had put a $25,000 reward on Aideed’s head after the June 5 battle, and had followed that up with attacks and raids on Aideed and his key people. Aideed had fought back. As long as these actions continued, there’d be little room for reasoned discussion.
In Aideed’s defense, the question of his actual guilt was very much open. The UN was in fact contemplating investigations to look into this question, while Aideed himself was calling for “independent inquiries”—outside the UN — to investigate the circumstances of the conflict.
In the light of all these questions, we decided to delay a decision about Aideed.
Seven, the press problem. As word of our mission began to circulate, the media began descending on Mogadishu in droves. They had to be handled carefully. Not only did Aideed remain a master at using the press to his advantage, but an angry and confused American public and congress were watching our every move with careful scrutiny.
