I had two principal advisers. One was Col. Jack Bishop. He was a three-war Parachute Infantry veteran who began his military service in the California National Guard as a private, age sixteen. He’d risen through the ranks, knew all the moves, had heard all the stories, and experienced most of the problems. He had four combat jumps in World War II and one more in Vietnam. He was my chief of staff—dead loyal, dead honest, and very candid.
The other was the senior noncommissioned officer in the division—Command Sgt. Maj. Don Peroddy, a big, tough fireplug of a man who wore a handful of Purple Hearts and Silver Stars from Vietnam. He worked only for me, took orders only from me, and had unlimited access to me day or night. He ran the NCOs of the division; set the standards; checked up on them; and was utterly fearless. My first order to him: “Sergeant Major, I don’t want any more problems in the villages around our camps. No more fights. No more problems with the Koreans.” He straightened things out fast and kept them straight by putting NCOs in the bars and on the streets working with the military police. Early every morning and late every afternoon, I met with each of those men and we talked about immediate problems, developing situations, and whatever they or I wanted to bring up.
I commanded that Infantry division for a year, and in the late spring of 1971 I was ordered to take command of the Infantry Training Center and Post of Fort Ord, California. Upon doing so, I immediately asked Army Headquarters in Washington to order Colonel Bishop and Command Sergeant Major Peroddy to Fort Ord also. The Army did so and they were a great help to me there for the next two and a half years. These were years of anti–Vietnam War demonstrations, dissident draftees, and plenty of drug problems.
Shortly after I took command, Jane Fonda and her antiwar Fuck The Army (FTA) demonstrators showed up at the front gate of Fort Ord shouting and demanding entrance. Of course, there would be TV cameras present and I knew they wanted a photogenic confrontation between soldiers with fixed bayonets on their M16s and the flower-power children. I gave instructions that the MPs and civilian gate guards were to stand in front of the gate but there was to be no use of force and no weapons or nightsticks in hand. Not even the most rabid of the demonstrators found much joy in nonconfrontation. The TV cameras left and soon the crowd broke up, furious at our pacifism. Later that day, Ms. Fonda somehow gained entrance and was found in the recreation room of one of my Training Center Barracks talking with new soldiers. My MPs quietly and courteously escorted her off the post.
On another occasion I got wind of a large group of protesters who were headed to the other gate of Fort Ord, which was at the city of Seaside, California. I directed my provost marshal to post the oldest civilian gate guard in front of the closed gate, with orders for him to just stand there silently with his hands folded behind his back. No weapon or nightstick on his belt. He did so and again the protesters were furious but got no joy out of screaming at a man older than their grandfathers. They left soon enough. That time I did have a group of MPs standing by out of sight behind a small hill near the gate in the event of an outbreak of violence. In those years we dealt with many antiwar protests at the Fort Ord gates. It was an interesting time to command an Army post. My primary guidance to the MPs and other troops was always the same: Never overreact. That’s another maxim I had learned long before and put to good use. There’s even a complementary maxim: Never overreact to an overreaction. You will only be playing into a situation you didn’t create, even if the other side is spitting in your face or peeing on your boots, as some of these protesters did to the MPs and gate guards.
Fort Ord was an Infantry Training Center providing Basic and Advanced Army Training mostly for new draftees and a far smaller number of volunteer enlistees. The Army was under heavy criticism in those Vietnam War years and my post, situated in northern California, a veritable hotbed of antiwar tension and protests, was accused of being too harsh in training the draftee soldiers. In order to deal with that criticism I organized frequent tours of the base by civilian community leaders and journalists from San Francisco, Oakland, and other cities in the surrounding area. I let them observe training, see where the troops lived, eat with the troops, even talk with the soldiers privately. I welcomed the reporters in particular and saw to it that they could go anywhere they wanted and talk with anyone on the post. My only guidance was simple: “Don’t interfere with training.”
While I commanded at Fort Ord the Army changed over from a largely draftee force to the beginning of the “Modern Volunteer Army,” and just as swiftly the Army was now being criticized for “going soft” on the new volunteer recruits. To combat this I placed great emphasis on bayonet training, pugil stick combat, long runs with weapons, and tough, strict but fair training by the drill sergeants.
Here are some personal observations on related issues on leadership.
ON STRESS:
I never had a problem with stress in battle, probably because it’s normal in that situation. In battle soldiers run on adrenaline, quick reflexes, discipline, and water, water, water. I’ve served in other duties, especially in the Pentagon, where the pressure and stress level were very high due to the volume of work, long hours, and tight deadlines for decisions involving a lot of money and vast numbers of people. That’s normal in that environment as well. It can even be exhilarating when you are working with sharp people. To help control that stress, and stay in shape for field duty, every day during the lunch hour I either went to the Pentagon Athletic Club and got a workout playing handball or, on alternate days, ran the two miles over to the Lincoln Memorial and back. I’m a firm believer that physical fitness aids mental fitness. My wife got used to me coming home after a tough day and telling her I was so tired I was going out for a run. It always refreshed me and cleared my mind to deal with the two briefcases of work I brought home.
PUSH THE POWER DOWN:
In my early years as an Infantry officer, I was a paratrooper in the 11th and 82nd Airborne Divisions, then later an Infantry battalion and brigade commander in the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) in Vietnam. In all those units, when on an operation we would be scattered over large areas and individual decision making was the norm—down to the lowest ranks. Based on that experience, in line units and large staff organizations I have led, my policy was always to push the power down. If a subordinate commander, or staff officer, felt comfortable and qualified to make a decision, he could do so with my authority. If not, he could move it up the chain of command a notch. That provided room for the flowering of a lot of talent in my subordinates. But I made sure that they knew that I alone was responsible for what they did or failed to do. I am convinced that trust and loyalty downward results in better work habits and higher unit efficiency.
That policy also kept a hell of a lot of paperwork off my desk, and gave me more time to think, plan ahead, and create the future. Such a policy requires that you keep your subordinates informed and provide guidance on what’s hot, what’s not—what has changed with your priorities and policies. I always let them know that while I gave them the power to do the job I also checked up to make sure the job was done and done right.
CONSTANTLY TRAIN AND IMPROVE:
Whatever the endeavor, the troops in the front lines, the workers in the cubicles on their computers, and the sergeants and middle managers must be trained, mentored, and continually improved in performance of duties. The athletic team or business team with the best players and best leaders nearly always wins.
In military units that I have led I talked briefly to my troops on my first day in command and told them about those principles and policies and then I ordered them to get rid of all second-place trophies and awards in the display case. From now on, I told them, only first-place awards will be given or received in this outfit. From now on we are only interested in winning. Then I made it clear that each of them, doing their duty at their level, was just as important and necessary to accomplishing our mission as I was. So it is in any organization. Those who do the work, whether in the trenches
or office cubicles or warehouses, are all absolutely essential to success.
TRUST MUST BE EARNED:
With respect to trust, the person in authority at any level—the boss—does not automatically and immediately become a respected and trusted leader by the people under him. He undergoes an unofficial but important observation process in the first few days or weeks during which his subordinates judge him and decide whether or not he is worthy of their trust. It is something that must be earned. They take a hard look at his actions, attitude, judgment, technical proficiency, honesty, his policies, his fairness, his performance and temperament under stress, and most important, his concern for, loyalty to, and relationships with the people under him. In short, how he serves them. Those characteristics reflect the person within—his principles and values.
The leader sets the tone and attitude for his people, his team; therefore, it’s important to display honesty, firm self-confidence, and unwavering commitment to be the best and to accept nothing less from those under him. Some people are born with that self-assured gene and are naturally confident in their ability to shape the future, make the right decisions, and succeed. But it can be developed in others who don’t come by it naturally.
TRUST WORKS THREE WAYS:
In a truly great business organization, athletic team, or military outfit there has to be trust and it has to work in three directions: People in the ranks must trust their leader. People in the ranks must trust each other to do their particular tasks in sync with all other members of the team. And the leader must inculcate and breed into his or her people a strong conviction that he trusts each of them to do the job and do it well. That last form of downward trust creates in the follower an intense desire to do what his leader trusts him to do and never to lose that trust in him.
Of all the units I have led, my fondest and most poignant memories are of the Infantry battalion I commanded in the furious battle of the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam that long-ago November in 1965. I lost 79 of my troopers killed, 120 wounded, none missing or prisoner. We killed hundreds, maybe thousands of North Vietnamese soldiers, whose bodies were left on the field. We held our ground.
When I first took command of those American soldiers back at Fort Benning I told them I would do my best and expected the same from each of them; that together we would become the best Air Assault Infantry Battalion in the world. We all believed that and that is what we became. We trusted each other implicitly by the time we found ourselves in hand-to-hand combat in that terrible battle. Together, shoulder to shoulder, we fought and died for each other and paid the price. But we held our ground and, in the end, defeated and drove off a force of over 2,000 well-trained, aggressive enemy.
At times, when the danger was greatest and the losses severe, I had a first sergeant commanding an Infantry company in place of his captain. Out with a trapped and decimated platoon a twenty-one-year-old buck sergeant took command when the lieutenant and two more senior sergeants were killed in less than ten minutes of battle. Every soldier did his best. Had even one of them faltered or failed at a critical moment we might well have all perished in that valley, slaughtered like poor Custer’s 7th Cavalry so long before. Every American on that field on those three days was a splendid leader. I know the answer to the question: Where do we get such men? We train them and teach them love and loyalty by example. We demand the very best of them and they willingly give it. I will go to my grave thanking them for the privilege of leading and serving them.
TWELVE
On War
Contrary to the conventional wisdom, there’s no one more cautious and conservative when it comes to starting a war than old soldiers and old generals who have spent a career, indeed a lifetime, fighting and commanding in wars and suffering the consequences. In the words of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant: “There never was a time when, in my opinion, some way could not be found to prevent the drawing of the sword.”
Joe and I are, by virtue of our ages, creatures of the last half of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-first and have felt in full the weight of that old Confucian curse “May you live in interesting times.” Our professions—mine as a career Infantry officer and Joe’s as a foreign and war correspondent—have ensured that we have more than a passing familiarity with the wars and upheavals that have ensued.
Neither of us is a pacifist; neither a jingoist or a war lover. Most wars are cruel and costly mistakes whose causes are rooted in the failure of diplomacy and poor judgment in national leaders. It is far easier to get into a war than it ever is to get out of one. The outcome is seldom what those who championed a war, any war, envisioned when first the bands began to play and soldiers began to march. No one at the time reckons that war will consume billions or even trillions of dollars that might have been better spent on the real needs of a nation and people. Few foresee the crowding of military cemeteries and military hospitals that are the inevitable consequence of war, along with grief-stricken families who have lost a beloved young man or woman and lives not yet lived.
War is absolutely the last card any national leader should play, and only when every other alternative has been exhausted. If the hand was being played by an old soldier, a war veteran, I can assure you he would guard that war card to the bitter end and play it reluctantly and with the fear and trepidation of experience.
There are tests to be met and questions to be answered before going to war: Is it truly in the interest of our national security? Do the people support such a decision and are they willing to serve in that war and sacrifice for it? Is the military fully prepared, trained, and armed to win that war? Do our military planners have an exit strategy? What of our enemy? Do we understand enough about his culture and history and motivation to fight him intelligently? How long is he prepared to continue the fight? Are we prepared to fight at least that long, plus one day more?
Consider that wily old Vietnamese schoolteacher-general, Vo Nguyen Giap, who began a guerrilla war against the French colonial power with a ragged peasant army at the end of World War II. He analyzed the situation and decided that the only way the French could win was by a long, drawn-out war against him, and yet he knew a modern democratic society does not have the political will to endure a long war. It took nearly nine years but Giap’s Viet Minh guerrillas beat the French. When the United States entered the Vietnamese conflict Giap was certain the same analysis guaranteed eventual victory over the newcomers as well. It took another decade of death and destruction but in the end he was right.
The questions above demand answers and careful thought before the war drums are sounded and the dogs of war let loose. These times, indeed all times, demand national political leaders who know not only our history but the history of the world and its nations and peoples. We need leaders of principle, courage, character, wisdom, and discipline, and yet we seem trapped by a system of choosing our presidents that pushes those who possess those traits aside in favor of others who look good on television, are skilled at slandering and demonizing their opponents in a campaign, and are able to raise the hundreds of millions of dollars required to ensure election at any cost.
While we are certain there are no good wars, we are not so naive as to believe that there are no necessary wars. The greatest war in the history of mankind, World War II, is the best example of a necessary war. It had to be fought to beat back forces and ideas so malignant and aggressive that they threatened the extinction of entire races and nations and would not be stopped by anything less than total war and total defeat, no matter the cost. That cost between 1939 and 1945 included nations on both sides brought to their knees by war’s destruction as well as the deaths of some 60 million human beings.
Even so great a war began as a small affair on September 1, 1939, when the German army attacked neighboring Poland and the world stood by uneasily and did nothing as a smaller nation was overwhelmed and enslaved by a much larger one in a rehearsal of all that was to come.
We Americans have been the most fortun
ate of people. In our history only our own Revolution, the War of 1812, and the Civil War have actually been fought on our soil. We have, historically, been slow to go to war, and even then only when attacked directly or when our interests were threatened. We entered World War I—which virtually wiped out a generation of British, French, and Germans—only for the final two years. We entered World War II for the final four years and only after being attacked by Japan. Fewer than 300,000 of the 60 million dead were American. The Korean War took the lives of more than 1 million Koreans but fewer than 50,000 Americans died there. In Vietnam it is estimated that more than 1 million died in the ten years of the American war; 58,256 of them were American. In the Persian Gulf War fewer than 300 American troops were killed, many of them by so-called friendly fire—American tanks or Bradley Fighting Vehicles mistakenly targeted and attacked by American warplanes or American helicopter gunships.
Because of this the brutal reality of war for the great majority of Americans is abstract, almost theoretical. That and the dissolution of the Soviet Union, our great Cold War enemy, which left the United States as the reigning and only superpower, may well have given us the idea that war isn’t all that bad a solution to nagging problems in troublesome places, and therein lies great danger. This kind of thinking and some spectacular bad judgment led President George W. Bush and his advisers to turn their backs on the idea that we only go to war when attacked or our national interests are directly threatened, as in the Persian Gulf in 1990–1991, and they declared that we would pursue a new policy of preemptive war. We will no longer wait patiently for clear provocation but strike first to nip a perceived potential problem in the bud. We have, to date, only one case history of preemptive action to study and everything we know about it only underlines and argues the need for extreme caution and answering all those pesky questions before acting.
We Are Soldiers Still: A Journey Back to the Battlefields of Vietnam Page 16
