by Dick Couch
Seated nearby, loading M4 magazines, is Tim Baker. “It’s challenging all right, and you have to be thinking all the time, even when patrolling—where to step, what may happen next. You have to scan your area of responsibility, but you also have to know where the other guys are and keep alert for hand signals. During an assault, you have to do it all—move, think, react, and shoot. When we first learned this back in the preparation course and we did everything at a walk, it seemed so easy. Moving at full speed and at night, it takes all your concentration. I never thought I’d be able to do this so fast—especially when we’re averaging about four hours’ sleep.”
“You have the C-team for this target, right?”
“That’s right, sir. And I have the experience. I have Captain Santos on one SAW and Sergeant Hall on the other. Dolemont will be on the gun. Imagine me telling those guys what to do.” The M240 machine gun is referred to simply as “the gun.” The 240 fires a heavier-caliber bullet than the other squad weapons. Eight-one-one is quickly learning that their tactical success often comes down to getting the 240 in the most effective and advantageous position. It’s the big dog in a small-unit action, both in the Q-Course and often down range in the real world.
As ODA 811 works its way through the raid and recon portion of the fieldwork, the four Rangers are very seldom put in leadership positions. Sergeant Janss has seen enough of them, in their briefing skills as well as their tactical leadership, that he is satisfied. Now he wants to see the less-experienced men in leadership roles. Often, he will isolate the 811 Rangers so as to force the team leaders to direct other members of the squad who may be as inexperienced as themselves.
On the last evening, I catch Captain Matt Anderson during a quiet moment waiting for darkness to fall. We are down in yet another draw—well concealed, but it is cold and wet.
“How does this training compare with what you did in Ranger School?” I ask.
Anderson considers this. “In some ways, we’re learning a lot more here because we go quickly from scenario to scenario. Every day there are multiple opportunities for tactical execution as a team. In Ranger School, we covered much more ground between missions—sometimes it seemed like we walked for days between an operation.”
“Is it as hard?”
Again, he pauses before answering. “We’re not finished yet, but so far, this is not physically as hard. Ranger School is all about long-range patrols with little or no sleep. In Ranger School, you go until you hit the wall, and then you keep going. But if you weren’t in a leadership role, it was just a long slog. On balance, I think you learn more about small-unit tactics here in Phase II, but you learn more about yourself in Ranger School.”
“You’ve been in the Army a while and more than a few Army schools. What do you think of SF training so far?”
“Hey, sir, this is awesome.” Anderson gives me his patented, infectious grin. “We lucked out drawing Sergeant Janss as a cadre sergeant. He’s a great teacher. The guys are all working hard, and they don’t want to disappoint him. Past the basics of small-unit tactics, there are a lot of different ideas and techniques. For those of us who pretty much have the basics down, he allows us to improvise and try new things. We’re all learning, especially the newer guys.”
The Phase II cadre sergeants all run their student ODAs a little differently. Some are more hands on and more regimented. As I roam about the various training venues, I watch a few of the other cadre sergeants work their teams with more of a heavy hand. If they are unhappy with the conduct of a raid, an ambush, or a patrol, they take remedial action—sometimes almost punitive in nature—as they run basic drills on the spot to correct the deficiency. Sergeant First Class Janss is a pure teacher, but he demands that his candidates perform. When he sees something that’s not right, he calls a halt to the training and holds a class. “Let’s get this right, gentlemen,” I hear him say on more than one occasion, sometimes at night in a cold rain, “because we are going to stay out here until we get it right.” Even when he is displeased with the performance of his students, I never hear Jan raise his voice.
The student ODAs return to the Rowe Training Facility after their recon and raid field training during the second week of December, late on day twenty-six of the thirty-five-day course. At this time, each individual in the class is evaluated: Which men have performed to standard, which men have yet to demonstrate that performance, and which men appear unsuitable for future training? Attrition in Class 1-05 to this stage has been modest but ongoing. A few soldiers withdraw because of medical, personal, and, on occasion, family-related issues. Some are involuntarily withdrawn because of safety issues, gross underperformance, and suitability considerations. Though the phase is well past the halfway point, a midcourse review board is convened after the raid and recon fieldwork. This board considers those phase candidates who have been identified by the cadre as clearly failing to meet phase standards. The board disposes of these candidates in three basic ways. A candidate can be relieved or removed from training, and made eligible for reassignment to another Army unit. Such a candidate may leave with a recommendation that he return for a future try at the Q-Course, or not. Second, a candidate can be recycled, which means he’ll leave Class 1-05 and return to Phase II with Class 2-05. This is usually done for medical reasons or when a candidate has to miss more than a day or two of training for a family issue or emergency. Third, a candidate can be recommended for reassessment. From my ODA, 811, PFC Jamie Wagner is sent to the midcourse review board because he has failed to show an acceptable level of performance.
“I sent him to the board with a recommendation for reassessment,” Jan says. “Perhaps he can show the reassessment cadre something he hasn’t shown me. He’s a hard worker and I know he’s holding nothing back, but right now, he lacks the situational awareness needed for small-unit operations. He’s confused out there; at best, he can only do what he’s told. He’s yet to demonstrate the ability to take charge and direct his teammates in a fast-moving tactical situation.”
As the board, which is similar to that of the SFAS selection board, sorts through Class 1-05, there’s a growing number of candidates gathering in the holding area outside the classroom where the board conducts its deliberations. When they are finished, eighteen candidates join PFC Wagner in the reassessment group. There’s an even mix of X-Rays and veteran soldiers. Only one of them is an officer. For those eighteen, their chances of continuing in Special Forces training are still alive. The board also relieves nineteen candidates from Phase II. They are no longer members of Class 1-05 and are bused back to Fort Bragg. Two candidates with minor medical problems are recommended for recycle in Phase II Class 2-05.
“This is a tough cut,” Sergeant Major Frank Zorn tells me after the midcourse board adjourned. “A lot of dreams end at the Phase II mid-course board. For the men in the reevaluation squad, it’s their last chance. They’re still having problems with small-unit tactics, and it would be wrong to send them forward. But each has shown us something, and all of them have the desire. They’ve come a long way, and we owe them another look before we make a final decision. For most, it’s a proficiency issue. The guys with bad attitudes or who have character issues or who are physically weak have gone away. For the most part, these guys’re giving it their best shot, but they’re just not cutting it.”
I notice one soldier with Wagner and the others who has a large coil of climbing rope draped over his torso. One end is tied to his belt and the other to his rifle. I ask Zorn about this. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“That kid is something of a story.”
“Sergeant Major, that’s why I’m here—for the stories.”
“That’s Specialist Scott. We saw him at the board during assessment and selection. He was having problems then, and he’s still having them. He’s prone to get a little too far from his rifle, and the rope is to remind him to stay close to his gun. He’s also having problems in the field. But he has a talent, and we’d like to keep him if at
all possible. Scott came to us from Germany; he was a truck driver, and he’s fluent in German. At the SFAS board, his personal statement said he spoke Russian. One of the board members was a Russian speaker, and he and Scott carried on a lively conversation in Russian. Scott also claimed he spoke Arabic, and he did—almost without an accent. I ask him how it was he spoke Arabic. ‘When I was in Germany,’ he told the board, ‘I watched a lot of TV.’ So I asked, what’s that got to do with it? ‘Sergeant Major,’ he says, ‘I watched Al Jazeera.’”
Two senior instructors are assigned to the retraining detachment along with an experienced contractor. The detachment is formed up in a single retraining ODA and given a crash course in basic small-unit tactics. After a few hours in the classroom, the ODA returns to the field for tactical reevaluation.
“This was one of the toughest assignments I’ve had since I became an instructor,” one of the retraining cadre sergeants told me of the assignment. “We had to give each of them a chance to succeed, to prove they had sufficient command of small-unit tactics to remain in the training pipeline. They had to show us they can lead well and they can follow well. When it was over, they were exhausted and I was exhausted.”
The other student ODAs—including ODA 811, with its remaining twelve soldiers—start preparing for their final field training exercise. “This training exercise is designed to sharpen their skills and to challenge them in different tactical scenarios,” Jan explains. “At this stage of the game, those who remain are pretty much good to go unless they really screw up or are careless about safety. We put a lot of time and effort into this final exercise, and we ask the student ODAs to, within the constraints of the exercise, play it for real—to improvise and use their imagination to get the job done. When a Special Forces ODA is on their game in a tactical environment, they’re like jazz musicians. They know the basics, and they know each other. This allows them to change or modify their tactics to better deal with a mission objective. They can do this quickly, often without conversation—with a hand signal or a nod of the head. This is where our small-unit tactics differ from those taught at Ranger School. Up until now, we have expected them to go pretty much by the book. We don’t necessarily want them to abandon the basics, but we want them to use their initiative and creativity to get the job done. This exercise is designed to allow for a variety of tactical applications and for them to show us some resourcefulness.”
The day before the final exercise is a Sunday. Every day is a training day, in the field or at the Rowe Training Facility, but if the class is training at the compound on a Sunday, an evening chaplain service is held for those who wish to attend. It’s a nondenominational service conducted by an Army chaplain from Fort Bragg. This Sunday, thirty-five candidates of Class 1-05 elect to attend the service. Five are from 811. The chaplain, a Presbyterian by ordination, welcomes the soldiers at the door of the classroom. The service begins with hymns as requested by the soldiers attending the service. As it’s mid-December, we move on to some Christmas carols. The chaplain is a short, kindly mannered major with a beautiful baritone voice. Following the singing, he asks if anyone would like a special remembrance in prayer for others. There are several—for family members, pregnant wives, sick relatives, lost comrades, and comrades in harm’s way. The chaplain then delivers a ten-minute sermon on helping others and being a good friend—it’s a vanilla discourse, but there is sincerity and even a touch of passion in his voice. He then offers communion to the group, a generic wafer symbolic of the sacrament of their particular faith. The service ends with a closing hymn. I seldom go to church, but I thoroughly enjoyed this service. It was a first for me, praying in the company of warriors, and I was very moved by it.
I came away with a thin, paper-laminate booklet titled Soldiers’ Book of Worship. It contains a short section of Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish prayers, a generous number of hymns, statements of faith, and a section devoted to support of the dying. The statements of faith include the Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish persuasions, along with the Five Pillars of Islam and a statement of Muslim beliefs. In the section for the dying, there’s a prayer for a Muslim soldier. It asks whoever reads that prayer to stand facing Mecca, if possible. How strange, I thought. Here I am, reading the prayer for a dead or dying Muslim soldier at a U.S. military Christian/Jewish service on an American Special Forces training base. My cynical self wonders if a prayer for a dying Christian soldier, let alone a dying Jewish soldier, was in any Muslim book of worship at an al-Qaeda training base or some Saudi madrassa training the next generation of suicide bombers.
The service is mostly attended by veteran soldiers, but there are a few X-Rays like Kendall and Altman. When we return to the 811 team hut, I find Dolemont in the squad bay, tipped back in a metal folding chair with his boots parked on a table, reading a Bible.
Eight-one-one has spent most of Sunday overhauling its personal gear, cleaning weapons, and preparing for the final exercise. The men will be in the field for four days and will carry everything they will need for the training. This time they will be working in one of the training areas on the western edge of Fort Bragg proper. Earlier that afternoon, Sergeant Stan Hall was tasked with the first mission. After the chaplain’s service, he gives his warning order. It’s a very slick and concise, by the Ranger Handbook briefing. Following a roll call, Hall pushes through brief statements of the situation as it relates to enemy forces and the commander’s intent, the mission they’ve been given, and his concept of mission execution. He makes his assignment of team leaders—Byron O’Kane will have the A-team and Antonio Costa will lead the C-team. Then there are assigned equipment lists. Each man carries between five hundred and eight hundred rounds of ammunition, depending on his weapon and assigned team equipment. Team equipment assignments include shoulder-fired rockets, radios, first-aid kits, demolitions, time fuse, claymore mines, 40 mm grenades, and an enemy-prisoner-of-war kit with handcuffs and blindfolds. The list goes on. Hall also assigns duties within his ODA—radioman, point man, designated compass man, designated pace man, EPW handlers, and so on. He also makes assignments regarding who is to handle various portions of the operations order. Then the team goes to work. Each man has personal and team gear to prepare and pack, and information to prepare for the operations order—the permission briefing, sometimes called the patrol leader’s order. The patrol order is set for 0800 the following morning. Eight-one-one will be up most of the night making preparations. I ask Jan why he had put Sergeant Hall in charge and not one of the newer men.
“Sergeant Hall is a good briefer—a very thorough briefer. I wanted the younger men to see it done right. There is a lot of training value for them to see it done well.”
At 0800, their rucks, about ninety pounds per man, are lined up along the wall of the equipment bay, and the men are in cammies and wearing fully loaded combat vests. Hall again calls the roll and checks with each man to ensure his personal and team equipment is ready and good to go. After a time hack, he begins the formal operations order.
“All right guys, listen up. This will be your briefing for Target 001, the ambush of a foot patrol at grid 5211, 8693.” He turns to a map on the wall. “It’s a bend in a stretch of unimproved road between these two intersections right here. Everyone got that?”
There’s a rustle of activity as each man finds the target on his map. They’ve rehearsed this, and all of them have that section of the map neatly folded in their map cases with an acetate overlay of the target area. They’re all on the same sheet of music. For the next two hours, Sergeant Hall directs the detailed operational briefing that is the patrol leader’s order. He directs the team members to synchronize their watches, then calls on Tim Baker to brief them on the weather conditions. Roberto Pantella gives an overview of the terrain features and vegetation; Antonio Costa gives a breakdown of the enemy forces in the objective area.
“OK, everyone, stand up,” Hall calls out to his team. “Roll heads left, now to the right, now everybody run in place.”
There is pounding of boots on the worn linoleum floor for about thirty seconds. “That’s enough, guys. So, we’re all awake. Now let’s talk about the mission and how we plan to execute it. Everyone gather around the terrain models and pay close attention.”
The two sand tables have been sculpted into scale models, one of the objective area and the other, a larger scale, of the target area. With a pointer, Sergeant Hall takes them over the key points and danger areas of the operation. “We’ll insert by helo here. If we take fire on the way in, the pilot will clear off the insertion point away from the direction of the enemy fire, and if we’re airworthy, we’ll abort the mission. If we crash, we set up standard security and call in the backup helo for extraction. If we take fire after we’re on the ground and the helo clears off, we’ll abort the mission and move to coordinates 5360, 8602 and call for extraction. These coordinates will also serve as a rally point if we are separated on the ground and have to abandon the insertion point.”
Following his briefing format, Hall covers the key points on the way to the objective, at the objective, and on the way to the extraction point. He details actions at danger points, actions at road crossings, actions at rally points, actions at a patrol base, actions on the objective, actions on clearing the objective area, and actions at the exfiltration site. He walks the team through the mission from the time they have boots on the ground until they are recovered.
“Questions?” Sergeant Hall asks. There are none. Eight-one-one stares back at him through bleary eyes. They’re all going into the field with very little sleep. “OK, Ranger Altman will give the command-and-signal portion of the briefing.” Altman brightens at being addressed as a Ranger, which he is not. He steps to the front of the room and reviews the standard hand and arm signals that 811 has used over the past several weeks. He then goes over each radio, the call signs they will use, and their assigned frequencies. Hall again takes over, checking his watch.
