Full Spectrum is dead. Long live Full Spectrum?

I work in a place where I straddle the line between importance and impotence daily. Why, you ask? Because I get emails that say this:

“Unified land operations replaces full spectrum operations as the Army’s operating concept.  Decisive action replaces full spectrum operations as the collective term for simultaneous offense, defense, stability and defense support of civil authorities as an enabler for unified land operations.  Full spectrum operations is obsolete and should be stricken from use. Whether authors use unified land operations or decisive action will depend on context and meaning.”

Really? What does that mean anyway? *facepalm*

Usually we would just release a bunch of changes to published manuals and move on because it will change anyway. Need I remind you of the infamous command-and-control-is-verbotten-and-is-now- called-battle-command-is-now-also-verbotten-and-is-now-called-mission-command change last year. I know.

Only one problem with the plan to simply publish a change to the all the manuals and be done with it: Full Spectrum Combat Aviation Brigade.

*facepalm encore*

Happy-ish Holidays

Between the pressed turkey breast slices and salty stuffing washed down with sparkling grape juice, war tries to be like being home for the holidays, but it falls short. There is little that contends with the blessing of being with friends and family during the Christmas season. Then again, when life gives you lemons, take ‘em. Because, well… free lemons. A friend of mine once told me that the next best thing to being with family for any holiday is being with the family that Uncle Sugar blessed you with.  Inevitably, just as you think you can chill out for a moment and enjoy your simulated mashed potatoes and gravy, the enemy gets a vote, and you have to go back to work.

Which is why, in light of crummy living conditions and being away from family, making the best of craptacular situation is uniquely military, which is why this rocks:

To all friends enjoying the holiday season (again) away from loved ones, The Doctrinatrix wishes you the merriest and happiest of holiday seasons as you can get while you’re stuck smelling burning poop.

The Pitfalls of Civilian Clothes Day

We’ve been annoying the Penthouse chain of command for months to let us do a Civilian Clothes Friday Fundraiser. Our directorate's Sergeant Major is less than enthused and always changes the topic of discussion to something else, like the looming APFT that no one really wants to take. In all honesty, there are times when letting Soldiers choose the civilian clothing option is a treasure trove of wardrobe faux pas that can potentially leave you wishing you’d just given them the alternative to pay just to leave work early. At least then you can get paperwork done without wondering what the subliminal statement your soldiers were trying to impart with their attire.  Then again, there really isn’t that big of a threat with the Penthouse crew. The lowest ranking individual on the floor is a SSG, who by all accounts really runs the place. The biggest hazard to attire selection for our crowd is the potential overabundance of Sans-a-belt pants and Nike golf shirts. That, and the fact that Aircraft Shootdown Team will all show up looking like they staggered out of a Scott convention. We wouldn’t know though because they spend their whole time in the office hiding behind a locked door and avoiding people, worshiping their SIPR network and their general awesomeness like a Scottish-appareled Gollum.

Having been a company commander, I admit that I fell prey to the lure of Civilian Clothes Fridays. It was a good way to fill the company’s cup-and-flower fund without having to resort to cooking meth in the motorpool or auctioning PVS-7Bs on eBay. My soldiers were pretty much the upper echelon of the intelligence spectrum in the Army. I’m not kidding. I’m not saying this to be mean or be all superior, but it’s a fact. The highest Army GT and ASVAB scores are held for air traffic controllers. This means that I didn’t have menial concerns. If they got in trouble it was going to be for something epic and monumental. Thus, civilian clothes day was never an issue for me.

I cannot say the same for some of my peers. I’m sorry. Luck can be sh*tty like that.

There are four potential landmines that can appear during civilian clothes day:

1. I didn’t know my solider was a prostitute.

Okay, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone. There is a chance that you may discover one of male gendered soldiers can pull off glittery jeans and a halter top better than Shakira. I’ll admit that you’ll have to deal with that issue when it comes to your desk and/or stands on your red carpet. The concern I’m addressing is your female Minion that just walked out of the training office looking like she’s been doing a little moonlighting at the Cat West Bar on Campbell Blvd. You’re not totally sure how she got “all that a** inside them jeans,” but you fear her sitting down because she might cause the seams to blow out, fully exposing the Fredrick’s of Hollywood thong that has been playing peekaboo in her a**crack, between her Juicy Couture jeans and her lace babydoll t-shirt.

2. I didn’t know my soldier was Lil’ Wayne.

I can’t offer any advice in this case, but try to resist the urge to pull their pants up for them.

3. I didn’t know my soldier was Pig Pen.

They rolled out of bed and made sure to jump on the wrinkle grenade before heading to the office. They sort of match, if “match” is defined as being dressed by a colorblind leper. You stand there wondering how your soldier makes it from Friday date night to Monday morning PT in an adequately clothed state. Does someone, like the barracks NCO, dress them before they leave for the evening? Did they manage to sneak out before a buddy could fix them today? Is that an actual bird nesting in their hair? You’re pretty sure that this soldier is totally squared away and clean shaven in uniform any other day of the week, but he looks like one of those Occupy Wall Street kids now... and not one of those hipster-smartly-attired-with-requisit-scarf-and-skinny-jeans-while-hoisting-a-Starbucks-and-an-iPhone4 hipsters either. He looks like the naked guy you saw on the news last night who was being prison showered off with a fire hose by the police after he beshat himself in their cruiser.

4. I didn’t know my soldier was part of the Gucci/Prada/Versace/Dior empire. 

Yes, you're awesome, and I look like
a hot mess. Please take your
 Diorness out to the motorpool now.

Sadly enough, I do know how this feels. I had a soldier who was always smartly dressed no matter what the function was. Hail and Farewell for the Battalion? Shows up looking like a full-page ad in last month’s Vogue or Vanity Fair or GQ.  Civilian Clothes Friday? Arrives looking like they came directly from NYC Fashion Week. I love clothes and shoes. Really love them. I couldn’t even complete with this soldier. Even my battalion CSM commented to me one day that my soldier was always sharply dressed and looked professional, at any time of day. I hung my head because I was wearing old jeans and a t-shirt that announced to everyone “Wisconsin Cheddar Rocks my Socks.” Can you blame me? I was at the commissary on a Saturday afternoon. The soldier in question: my 1SG.

Inevitably, as a commander, your highly professional NCOs, warrant officers, and junior branch officers will probably address these issues long before first formation, saving you the humiliation of actually having to tackle this matter yourself. Except for that last one. Because let me tell you… there is nothing quite like the judgmental look of smartly dressed 1SG Judgey McJudgerson when you’re sportin’ a worn-out, paper-thin t-shirt that proudly declares your love for the Daleville Diner’s huge breakfast burrito. Aces.

Counterinsurgency, you heartless b*tch!

Bill Ardolino, of Long War Journal fame, said it best. “COIN is dead. Long live COIN?”

Oh, COIN, you heartless b*tch!

Oh, sweet Counterinsurgency, why have you been ruffling so many feathers in the milblogosphere? Is it because it’s a buzz phrase, with your COINtras and COINdinistas, that captures our imagination with ideas skimpy offensive operations that can successfully convert a world at “small war” into a world at “large peace,” unlike the overly muscled and massive strategies we saw during the Cold War? Is it because we always knew the drawdown would come, looming on the horizon, waiting to slam our fingers in the proverbial cookie jar of GWOT-funding? Is it GEN Petraeus and GEN McChrystal, with their sexy celeb-general atmosphere who toss that word out like it’s a 4-star challenge coin wrapped in a free yellow reflective safety belt?

Oh, my darling Counterinsurgency, you might just be a tease in a cheap cocktail dress hoisting a field manual program directive at us conventional force-types about the impending rewrite of FM 3-24, Counterinsurgency, and trying to get us to buy into your sexy prose and controversial topics, that only the very cultured of the Army masses can discuss without looking like complete idiots. Thank you very much for reminding me that I am not Crispin Burke, who's pretty damn smart for a Whackhawk pilot.

But wait! I’m an aviator, dearest Counterinsurgency, you can’t phase me with your barroom tricks and flashy lexicon. I was raised in the old Fort Rucker Dawn Patrol Lounge on cheap beer, stale cigarette smoke, and stories about Vietnam from old DACs who routinely tried to find new ways to pinch the butts of the waitresses shouldering plates of dry chicken wings and soggy fries.

With the program directive out on the streets for review of what may become the new FM 3-24, Counterinsurgency, where does Army Aviation stand in this picture? Do we even have a spot in the picture at all? Are we still a Movement and Maneuver warfighting function, rolling up under the patronage of branches like Infantry and Armor? Do we consider ourselves worthy enough to be in the targeting development process that lends to tactics development?

You’re damn skippy we do. The rest of the Army and Marine Corps feel the same way. Appendix A, Airpower in Counterinsurgency, will become our stamp upon the services. It will be our chance to speak out about how and why COIN is still relevant, even in Army Aviation, and more than just tricked-out verbal chicanery. Right now, if you read that Airpower in COIN appendix, you’ll know who wrote it right away. Yeah, that’s right… sneaky zoomies… that’s who.

So, now what? What has our relationship come to, sweet Counterinsurgency?

Insurgency as an organized movement aimed at the overthrow of a constituted government through the use of subversion and armed conflict. Counterinsurgency is military, paramilitary, political, economic, psychological, and civic actions taken by a government to defeat insurgency (JP 1-02). When viewed from the prospective of our cockpit, these are two sides to the same coin, patterned under the broad spectrum of irregular warfare. As a movement and maneuver asset to the ground force commander, the conditions that lead to insurgency within a populace can become moot to us as pilots. This is not because we are not interested or flat-out don’t care about the ground force’s mission, but because the modular structure of today’s deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan have made it difficult to continue that all important process of Air Ground Integration (wow, you must be sick of hearing me harp about that). Manipulation of a weak populace, regime failures, genocidal tendencies within a group, and external interference from some of the more nefarious neighbors and actors within the state can contribute the success or failure of an insurgent force. The interaction between United States’ ground forces and the populace trying to improve their situation can waffle between good and bad depending on fragile bonds and trusts that we don’t see from the vantage of our cockpits. Can you blame Army Aviation though? We’re trying as hard as we can, but there is not enough aviation to go around, or pilots to get down at boot level and talk with the ground force commander about the subtle nuances of their area of operations.

Before COIN even starts, regardless of where on the map the fight may be taking place, we’re already at a disadvantage. We’re screwed before we’ve even started. Aces. Insurgent forces have seized and retained initiative as part of their own version of combined arms maneuver. To make matters vastly worse, they have key terrain scoped out as well. This puts aviation at a disadvantage. Vulnerability to small arms fire and cheaply attainable and portable MANPADS becomes more evident when the key terrain hasn’t been secured by friendly ground forces yet. Insurgent forces versed in the creation of a secure operating environment for themselves blend quickly and efficiently with the local populace, making identification of irregular enemy forces nearly impossible from terrain flight altitudes. Even engaging targets that have met the established rules of engagement and gone through the escalation of force process is not enough to defeat an insurgency. In fact, that can run the gambit from beneficial to the host nation populace and friendly ground force commander to down-right detrimental to the mission in the event of CIVCAS, civilian causalities. One bad rocket, one poorly aimed Hellfire, or one accidental bullet from a window-mounted M240B can unhinge months of delicate and calculating efforts for US ground forces.  

So, how can Army Aviation help counterinsurgency to establish military ascendancy and enable stability operations to expand across the area of operations? Victory can only be achieved when the populace consents to the government’s legitimacy and stops actively, or even passively, supporting the insurgency. Is this even possible for pilots to effect?

Prior to deployment, we sit in creaky auditorium chairs and listen to professors and State Department personnel drone about the local populace, the history of the nation, the society’s leadership system, tribal communication, ideologies, the nuances of the conflict, the strengths and weakness in the moral fibers of the insurgency and the host nation. To aircrews, which will rarely interact at ground level with the host nation’s population, this may seem moot. Why would a UH-60M crew chief need to know about the narratives that may resonate within a local tribe or ethnic group? In a training schedule packed with pre-deployment considerations that are vital to the combat aviation brigade (another round of gunnery tables or peeling off a Battalion task force to support a BCT’s JRTC rotation) what is the relevance to the aircrew in knowing the history of the tension between a stable agricultural based tribe and a migrating tribe of herdsmen? Given the fact that most of my brethren within the attack reconnaissance community only claim to need a grid, frequency and call sign to get the job done, that’s a tough question to answer sometimes.  

Think of it this way though: “Without good intelligence, counterinsurgents are like blind boxers wasting energy flailing at unseen opponents and perhaps causing unintended harm. With good intelligence, counterinsurgents are like surgeons cutting out cancerous tissue while keeping other vital organs intact.” That is straight from the current edition of the FM 3-24. Effective operations are shaped by timely, specific, and reliable intelligence, shared at the level most likely to be in contact with the insurgency and local populace daily. Aren’t we, the aviation force, every bit as likely to be direct contact with the insurgency on a daily basis?

To COIN is to be doing it for the long haul (I know, that’s what she said…)

I know what you’re thinking. Why can’t we just leave? We’re aviation. Hell, CH-47s self-deploy to the field all the time with coolers and camp chairs and grills all the time!  

COIN is not for the faint of heart or the fickle of countenance. In other words, if you have ever been blamed of having “commitment issues” by a member of the opposite sex (like most Cavalry guys I know, or have loved and left) you may not be ideally suited for aiding the counterinsurgent fight. Insurgencies by their very nature are protracted ordeals that demand all your emotional energy, spare time and money. Even if the local populace prefers the host nation government to the insurgents, they may not actively support a government unless they are convinced that the counterinsurgents have the means, ability, stamina, and will to win. Sounds oddly like Iraq. And Afghanistan. And Vietnam. And every other insurgency we’ve ever dealt with. The insurgents’ primary beef is usually against their host nation government, not the coalition… at least, not to start with. Never the less, once we are involved and committing support, we are in the relationship for the long haul and that can be crucial to building public faith in that government’s viability. It’s critical that the populace have confidence in the staying power of both the counterinsurgents and their government. That’s why we can’t just dump them once we start getting tired of the relationship, or when a younger, sexier insurgency comes along.

Using the Appropriate Level of Force… or none at all.

Any use of force generates a series of reactions, good or bad. Sometimes a massive effort is needed to destroy or intimidate an opponent and reassure the populace. It’s like beating up the neighborhood bully. Everyone leaves happy, and the other bullies get the idea that maybe they should move it along to someplace else. Extremist insurgent combatants often have to be killed. As my pop is fond of saying, “he was bad; he needed killing.” In any case, counterinsurgents should carefully calculate the type and amount of force to be applied and who does it for any operation. Just because you have a Hellfire available doesn’t mean that you need to use it. 

Consider it this way: An operation that kills five insurgents is counterproductive if collateral damage leads to the recruitment of fifty more insurgents. If a guy is straddling the fence between “Rock on with yer badself, America” and “Death to the Infidels,” killing his nephew by accident on the back of a moped because he was carrying a rusty AK-47 may cause the uncle (and his whole extended family that remembers the joyous days when the Russians were trollin’ in Againistan) to lean on the lesser jihad side of the fight.

Learn and Adapt

Every unit needs to be able to make observations, draw and apply lessons, and assess results. Duh. This is like telling someone that they need to learn from their successes and mistakes. And the mistakes of the other guys who were there last year. And the guys here two years before that. And the last conquering heroes from like eleventythousand regimes ago. If you don’t know this by now in your military career, you should probably save yourself the trouble, and leave the Army. You’ll be perfect for Congress though.

Empowering the Lowest Levels—and, BEHOLD, another case for good Air Ground Integration

We all know that “mission command results from subordinate leaders at all echelons exercising disciplined initiative within the commander’s intent to accomplish missions.” Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-0 told us so. Mission command is ideally suited to COIN operations because it empowers the lowest level of tactical leadership to solve problems with a disciplined and well-educated hand. Remember how I said that a good Battle Captain knows their surroundings just as well as a good ground force commander does? Well, no one has a better grasp of their situation than a junior ground leader. Most good Battle Captains can only hope to get as good as their counterparts in the ground units. Perhaps now would be the ideal time to seek them out and bend their ear about how aviation can help (or at least keep from hindering) their fragile missions during COIN?! Under mission command, they are given access to, or even control of, the resources needed to produce timely intelligence and conduct effective tactical operations. So, if everything is at their disposal, why aren’t we? We are their maneuver asset, or at least that’s what we keep claiming to be. Effective COIN operations are decentralized, and higher commanders push as many capabilities as possible down to their level, which includes Army Aviation.

So what about the Air Mission Commanders and the Pilots in Command with our formations?

Young leaders often make decisions at the tactical level that have strategic consequences. Fox News is very fond of telling us that over and over and over and over. Senior leaders can affect that through comprehensive training and clear guidance, even in the COIN fight. When they know that their clear guidance is being followed by their well-trained aircrews, they trust their subordinates to do the right thing. We’ve come full circle, haven’t we? Preparation for tactical-level leaders requires more than just mastering vague and slightly stuffy doctrine. They must also be trained and educated to adapt to their local surroundings, understand the legal and ethical implications of their actions, and exercise initiative and sound judgment in accordance with their senior commanders’ intent. Ahh, we talked about that earlier… guess we should start paying attention during those ridiculous pre-deployment classes, huh?

Aviation Synchronization Conference: Inadvertently Inappropriate

I have no idea how it all started, but everything is a That’s What She Said joke these days. The ultimate was an inadvertent TWSS by a COL who was briefing Aviation Network Interoperability yesterday. Which, by all means, is the most boring topic in the world… unless you’re that particular COL, then I’m sure it was epic and awesomesauce in your own little world, sir.

Now I live in a state where everything is TWSS-joke. Case in point:

For the past 18 months I have been driving down Highway 79 to Panama City Beach, seeing that sign.

I know. That’s so juvenile, Wings.

Whatevs. You’re not in my rating chain so I really don’t give a sh*t.

So, my sophomoric sense of humor was made worse by COL Interoperability’s complete obliviousness to the fact that he’d even made a statement worthy of a TWSS.

What was he doing, you ask?

He was passionately pleading his case to a room full of fellow pilots and aviation professionals regarding the over abundance of network interaction in the cockpit… you know, wherein everyone wants to be in the cockpit with you while you’re busy trying to kill bad guys??!! When it becomes more difficult to operate the digital network systems than it does to actually just hit the push-to-talk switch (or the push-to-think switch, if you’re a flight schooler) and talk, you’ve kind of lost battle for network interoperability. The network becomes a hindrance, rather than the helper, and the pilots abandon the program for whatever works fastest, easiest, and seamlessly with the ground guys they’re supporting.

This is what the COL meant to say. What he actually said was, “if you make it hard in the cockpit, the aviators will not use it.”

When I say that I had to rally every fiber of my being and self-control not to blurt out THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID, I mean it. I was a pillar of professional discipline. I was the textbook definition of restraint.

The O-6 sitting behind me was not. He was muttering to his buddy sitting beside him.

“That’s what she said.”

I love inadvertently inappropriate senior officers.

The Five Unwritten Laws of Land Warfare

Here’s the thing about going to War: your personal higher deity made the Earth round so that you couldn't see too far down the primrose path known as your command. In other words, some whack things will happen that you will have to deal with that will have no ties to the actual business of closing with and destroying the enemy. You will have at least one incident as a commander where you will stand, slack-jawed in the presence of your unit’s senior NCO, while they either come into your little plywood office and close the door or pull you up alongside a Hesco barrier for that “little talk about SPC Who’sHisNuts.” I wish I could offer advice about it all or prepare you for this but just remember this little adage: 1LT is 2LT, with intent.

1. There is going to be a nasty fight. There may even be tears, snot and/or a trip to the aid station. I can’t tell you why Soldiers will be the best of friends while they are in garrison and immediately hate each other about eight or nine months into the rotation. What makes it more whack is that it will be some small infraction that causes this sudden cleave in friendship. You’ll come to the CP one day, discover that a cold war has erupted between a handful of your soldiers over a half-eaten styrofoam clamshell container of cold DFAC eggs with a side of Poo Fly. All the little machinations of the past few months will probably be saved for one glorious blow-up. Over runny, rubbery, fake eggs. Just remember: everyone else's side of the story is right and, before you even get involved trying to quell the violence, you’re wrong. Just go ahead and start chain smoking right now. It's easier.

2. You can potentially get a strap-hanger soldier or two. They don’t belong to you, but they’re always around, looking a little forlorn and pitiful. I don’t know who those soldiers belong to either, but just make a small effort to look after them. Eventually their unit will rotate home. 

She works at the Toy Box. She's just
paying her way through beauty
school... with your soldier's combat
pay. You're a lucky, lucky commander.

3. It is only acceptable to provide commander’s guidance to another commander’s soldier when there is imminent threat to life, limb, or eyes. This may also apply to the base being overrun by Taliban or if the unrelated soldier is about to be run over by a FLUOR contractor from Sri Lanka who’s never driven a Chevy Tahoe in his life… until that very day. Then, by all means, please speak up and say something. Otherwise, keep your trap shut and come talk to me or Top. We’ll fix it. 

4. One of your soldiers will probably marry a stripper right before you deploy. It will be one of two possibilities:

a. The soldier you most expect

b. The soldier you least expect

Either which way, you’ll probably guess wrong. Enjoy dealing with that, by the way.

5. Embrace this saying: If I hear the words “I’m so bored” again, you’re leaving for the Brigade Staff. In Bagram.

The Bitter Argument and the Irrefutable Truth

The reasons I hate Close Air Support are varied. In all truth, I don’t hate it. I just don’t do it. As Army rotary wing attack aircraft, we do Close Combat Attack. We’ve always done it that way. The only rotary wing attack aircraft that actually do full-on, no-joke, to-the-flipping-mind-numbing-letter rotary wing CAS is the Marine Corps. While they look dashing in their uniforms, have yet to change their infantry squad tactics in 50 years (because they’ve stumbled on something that works), they refuse to budge in their belief that rotary wing CAS is the only method of controlling aerial fires. When you talk to them, it’s like talking to a wall. A well-dressed, sharply-pressed wall. With a high and tight. The Wall nods at you, a slightly vacant and uncaring look in their eyes, as if to say, “whatevs.” Then they go run eight miles with a ruck sack while carrying a telephone pole. Whack jobs.

  

The CAS vs. CCA debate comes at me from all angles, even the places where I least expect to hear argument. Last week, following a truly frustrating debate with the Fires Center of Excrement, I fielded eleven emails in one morning all regarding why the Fires Center thinks we (the pilots) should do CAS training. I think the Air Force was some how involved in all this, but I can't be certain. Sneaky zoomies. By the time I was done with the email run-around, the C-letter of my keyboard was embedded in my desktop. The warrant officers who work with me actually avoided laughing at me for once, and they crept away before my head popped off, spun 360 degrees, and began shooting pea soup. I can neither confirm, nor deny, that the walls of the Penthouse may have started to bleed.

So, by now I’m sure you’re all, “Doctrinatrix, this isn’t funny or gross and has nothing to do with deployment gnomes or your old troop commander’s squirrel-sized bladder.” I know.  Sometimes I’m not witty. Sometimes I’m just a cranky doctrine writer with the C-key lodged in her desk. *le sigh*

The ultimate issue becomes figuring out how to deal with this secret war on our flexibility as a maneuver platform on the battlefield. The average Infantryman thinks that any munitions that are launched from the sky to reign doom down on the doomed heads of the doomed terrorists is CAS. It’s not, but the name isn’t important to them. It’s the concept of what is happening that makes them happy. You could call it whatever you like, and so long as there is bullets and rockets and the occasional AGM-114K2A being launched, they’re happy as clams in mud. Stinky, dirty clams, but whatevs. It’s part of their charm. They’ll clean up nicely when they go home. The most important part is that they WILL go home because we, their aviation support, were there for them with accurate and timely fires. Who cares what it’s called, right?

Except words have meaning.

*facepalm*

So here beginth (and endth) the lesson: you reap what you sew.

I know, you’re all like, “but what does that all mean, Doctrinatrix?” It comes down to examining how you interact with the forces you support, whether staffer or pilot or commander. If the tenants of unified land operations include “synchronization,” and we pilots are part of the Movement and Maneuver Warfighting Function which demands that we pay homage to combined arms maneuver as part of full spectrum operations, is that not complete and total clearance to go waypoint-direct and talk with the guys we support?  This is like the Chief of Staff of the Army’s written way of saying GO FORTH AND DO AIR GROUND INTEGRATION… and make sure you do it well because the lives of the guys on the ground depend upon it! In the age of the Command Post of Right Now (CPORN?) and MiRC chatting and COIN blogging and Powerpoint, we have ceded ground to the enemy by giving up the vital skill of talking simply, plainly with ground guys about what we can do for them. We have forgotten that it's important to know how they fight, and we rarely care about their unit specific TTPs because “we’ll figure that sh*t out when we get on station.” That’s kinda-sorta the wrong answer.

The last time it all worked well? Divisional Cavalry Squadrons. 

It worked because we, the pilots, were obligated to play second fiddle to the ground guys. But is that so wrong? I don’t think it was. I think my squadron commander was on to something. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing with all of us unruly pilots all along, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t realize that he was doing anything special. He was more concerned with getting his tankers, scouts, and mortarmen through another day in Samarra. He excepted that we, his aerial maneuver force, would adapt to his cavalrymen. He was right to expect that from us.

The reason why CCA and CAS will continue to be debated on today’s battlefield is because we don’t take the time to understand our ground forces and really, really tell them what we do for them.

As a very smart man once queried in the Penthouse, “Who supports whom here?” We should constantly be asking ourselves that question every day.

Okay, tomorrow… Funny Army stuff. I promise.

Three words: Giant. Fuzzy. Rat.
Three more words: Well. Conditioned. Hair.
Nobody puts Baby in the... shower?

Flu Shot




"Is it possible that you could avoid stabbing me hard
enough to draw blood this time, doc?"
"Is it possible for you to shut your noise tube, Cav Scout?
You're the 4000th lucky winner we've vaccinated today in
the Regiment."

The process of getting a flu shot every year in the Army is always a debacle. In the past, I have avoided the flu shot because I hate needles, and I’m waiting for the inevitable results to come out in the Washington Times that all of our Army vaccinations will turn us into zombies someday. This year, under threat of being denied my 4-day pass to Washington for the Army Ten Miler by my boss, I willingly went to receive my zombie vaccine. The threat went something like this actually…

“Wings, if you don’t go get your flu shot, I will lock you in a closet with a poisonous snake. The guy who does the CATS management job can take over arguing with the Maneuver and Fires Centers about CAS and CCA.”

Then I was all like, “well, he doesn’t have the legs for it.” And my boss beat his head against a wall for an hour at the futility of arguing with my superior intellect.**

It’s not that getting the flu shot is bad, but it’s not fun either. You fill out some papers about medical history, are selected for  zombie testing  vaccination by people with rubber gloves, and then tortured actively by these fellow service members who are supposed to care for your medical health and well-being. This feeling of betrayal is made even worse when the person holding the needle is a friend. You search their eyes for pity, but they’re so far beyond pity because you’re the 4000th lucky winner in the Division that they’ve  tortured  vaccinated today. As you cower into the shoulder of the person standing next to you awaiting their vaccination, pleading with your medic friend for a reprieve from the abuse, he points surreptitiously to the group standing across from you: the ones getting the flu mist. He then asks if you’d “like to take your chances with them instead?” You watch as the other line of subjects gets a tube shoved in their nose with a command to “inhale deeply” from the SSG Ratched, who's giving them the nasal spray vaccination. They walk away from their ordeal rubbing at their nose like cocaine addicts after a line in the dirty bathroom of a seedy New Orleans strip club.

*whimper* “No, thank you, Sergeant.”

This year I managed to maintain a stiff upper lip and got my flu shot in a timely manner. Frankly, my medical condition that prohibits me from getting the flu mist, is actually kind of handy.

Conversely, the whole Gunnery Branch made it look like the 80’s were back, baaybee.

** this argument may not have actually happened like that per se… because we have a new division chief in the Penthouse. Nevertheless, I am taller than he is and have about 15 or 20 pounds on him. I’m pretty sure I can take him.

Day-Out-Night-Return Post: Death... by PowerPoint

Let me makes this very clear. I am not a fan of PowerPoint. I hate it. When slides come in front of my face, I want to do very bad things to people. I would normally say that it’s an irrational hatred of a Microsoft product that was designed to make everything run smoother and make pretty pictures from bad information. I look at a PowerPoint slide, and it’s like a pig staring at a wristwatch. I just sit there, mindlessly thinking about pleasanter things. I'm playing another level of Angry Birds in my mind. 

Because there is pictures.

Shiny, colorful pictures.

Ooooh, something just moved for a slide transition. Yippeee.

And yet, I am an officer. I have no choice but to learn to adapt to the necessity of PowerPoint because I’m going to need it in every staff job to do my thinking for me. I’m unnerved and scared at this idea.

The truth is that we have become dependent on systems to make things pretty and bad news into something palatable, rather than learning how to build ideas in our minds and explain them simply and efficiently. This unfortunately is a skill that is lost on the younger crowd of up and coming assistant S-3s, admin officers, and logisticians who really, REALLY run the Army. We’re wholly and completely addicted to making shiny slides that don’t really capture information well… and certainly don’t translate well into what our commander’s intent really, REALLY is. But, hot damn, don’t that sh*t look puuurrrty!

 The quadchart, a method of condensing information into a snapshot, is probably the closest we can get to simplifying data into fast, digestible tidbits on PowerPoint. Of course, that’s only if you use it right. If you feed a bunch of stuff, you’re stuck tap-dancing on cracker, trying to explain your fluff to the Old Man during Command and Staff. The Old Man don’t like fluff. He likes beer. Your poorly executed PowerPoint slide is driving him to be separated from his precious beer even longer. Which is why he’s sitting there, at the head of the briefing table, looking frustrated   constipated   at his watch   slightly concerned about your mental health. Like Dr. Jones choosing the right cup for the Holy Grail, he’s pretty sure picking you for command or a key staff position might lead him to age prematurely. Death… by PowerPoint.

Consider this when teaching a young soldier or planner to use PowerPoint: what would happen if they didn’t have it? Would they be able to execute a mission without it? Would they be able to translate and apply the commander’s intent without copy/paste from another source? Would they really, REALLY be able to explain themselves, their mission, their higher headquarters, and the commander’s desired end state as it applies to them?

Or would they be sitting there, imagining success at another level of Angry Birds?

How Does She Do It?

So my darlingly lovely friend, That Damn Yankee, wrote me a delightful bloggity blog post today, because she is awesomesauce. She’s getting back into the swing of bloggity blogging, and I was all, “will you come write with me because I love you and you're awesomesauce?” And she said yes. It could also be ‘cause I nagged the sh*t out of her.

Without further ado, I give you… That Damn Yankee’s thoughts of Army Wifedom:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I’ve been an army wife for eight-and-a-half years. I’ve been through deployments, and field exercises, and TDYs, and “Mandatory Fun,” and a whole bunch of random military stuff on top of marriage stuff and kid stuff.  I’m not bragging by any means, just lazily introducing myself to you.  During the midst of Army-related insanity I would post on my Facebook or various message boards I belong to. One of the boards is from when I was pregnant with my oldest back in 2003/2004. So these women have “known” me since I was a newly-pregnant, newly-wed, newly-Army Wife. I consider these women to be some of my closest friends.  And so many times I got the question from them, “How do you do it? I could never do what you do.”  Instead of a declaration about how I do it because I luuuuuuuuuve my husband I’ve decided to make a list. Because everyone likes lists. [Editorial Comment: Yes. Yes, we do. We really like them on Post-Its.]

So this, is “How I Do It.” Break it down, now.

·         I love my husband.

I do. And yes it’s cheesy and somewhat cliché but I’m with him because I love him.  In spite of all the crap that’s come our way, I love him and will stand by him (If you’re hearing The Pretender’s “I’ll Stand By You” in your head right now then I win.). Plus, I’m not the easiest hedgehog in the gaggle .  Blah blah give and take blah blah random 98 Degrees song lyric blah blah.

·         I make friends on the internet. [Editorial Comment: So do I. Don’t judge me.]

This simple task, by far, has been my saving grace even before I met and married the husband.  Picture it: Massachusetts 1999. That was the year I discovered message boards. In 2001 I discovered blogging (Live Journal RULZ!). I realized that I loved being able to say whatever I wanted and would get support from complete strangers. And ridicule. But let’s not focus on that. I liked the anonymity the web gave but in that anonymity came a type of familiarity.  These screen names became friends, and in some instances became family.  Take Wings for one. I met her on a message board when we were stationed in Germany.  [Editorial Comment: Told you. Friends. From the Interwebz. And also porn. Which is nice.] And Irish—met her too through the same board and we have been talking on the phone almost daily for the past four years. This past March we finally met.  Even if we hadn’t met, we’d still be family. My sanity, my comic relief, my child-abuse-prevention-hotline. My partner in inappropriate joking.

·         I laugh at seemingly inappropriate things.

You know that saying, “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry”?  It’s totally true. I need to make jokes about everything—it’s my coping mechanism. And so when my eldest son was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome I made mention to Irish that “Well, if I have to have a kid on the spectrum, at least it’s on the good end.” I miscarried a week after my husband left for deployment number two and laughed at the insanity that, if he had come home at that time, it would’ve counted as R&R (he was two weeks into a 15-month tour). Irish mentioned that she was having medical issues and she has a family history of Lupus I started laughing and quoting House. (So as to not appear a total c*ck-dolphin she was laughing as well. It’s not like she was crying and despondent and I was mocking her. I’m an a**hole, but I’m not a jerk.) I have to find the humor in things or it would be very ugly. [Editorial Comment: Now do you see why I’m friends with her? Well, that… and the fact she has an enviable rack.]

·         I spend time away from my kids.

I have two boys, whom I love more than anything. They are five years apart which is a pretty good age gap (in my opinion). But they drive me nuts like no one else on this planet. And so to keep from completely losing it, I get away from them from time to time. Especially during deployments.  Even going to the commissary by myself is a fricking island retreat and so I try to get away from my boys as often as I can (which really isn’t that often).

·         I watch a LOT of TV.

·         I read a LOT of Chick Lit. 

·         I smoke.

·         I snark.

·         I cry.

·         I wait.

If there’s one thing we Army wives are good at, it’s waiting. Waiting for orders, waiting for training to be done, waiting for the deployment to start, waiting for it to end, waiting for emails or phone calls. We wait for the homecomings and we wait for the "Knock at the Door." We wait for R&R. We wait for finance to adjust our Soldier’s pay.  We wait for the kids to go to bed so we can curl up with a book/reality TV/a jug of wine.  If being an Army wife could be summed up in two words those two words would be, “We wait.”

So there. I don’t have any magical super powers that make me able to live this life. I don’t love my husband more than you do because you “couldn’t imagine living that life.” I’m not better than you because I do live this life—I’m better than you for so many other reasons.  I kid. I kid.  Seriously though, there’s no real secret to this. The rabbit is in the hat the entire time.

[Editorial Comment: See? I told you she was awesomesauce.]

The 10 Commandments for Being an Aviation Battle Captain

Dear Shiny New Aviation Battle Captain,

I know. You’re a little frustrated with the Battalion’s S3 at the moment. I’m assuming that you’re normally the Chemo or a newly minted O-3, fresh from a platoon leader position. You’ve been flying for about ten or eleven months, and you were yanked unceremoniously up to the last bastion of frustration and futility: battalion staff. You were probably just told that you’re going to be the Battle Captain for the deployment, and I know you’re hurt and mad and disillusioned with the leadership.

But don’t fret, my pet. The Doctrinatrix and her faithful band of merry men are here to give you hope. You see, once in a kingdom far, far away, we did our time in the fabled battle desk. We, my two friends and I, commiserated the ills done upon us by cranky S3s, rude and self absorbed LTCs, and feisty company commanders. Over MiRC chat we bonded in a strange friendship that has now resulted in several battle captain commandments. Ten of them, to be precise. 

Here we go…

Commandment 1: Thou shalt know thy turf.

You can try all you want to visualize the terrain sometimes. You can study the maps and the imagery and try to gain a little situational awareness, but there is only one thing that can give you the true picture of the ground out there: flying over it. You have to see the battlespace with your own two eyes. You have to ask for a flight, plop your fanny in the jump seat, put on a headset, and fly the ring routes. Or take a spin around the battlefield with the Old Man. Something. Anything. Go see it. Then, when your attack weapons team calls back regarding a TIC they are working in the Pesh Valley, you’ll have an idea of where they are and what they’re dealing with. Maybe then, you’ll leave them alone while they try to lay savage waste to the enemy in a box canyon.

Commandment 2: Thou shalt know how to diagnose thy battlespace problems without being a bother to everyone else in the battlespace.

You gotta be watching and processing at all times. Tidbits of critical information come across the net constantly, giving you detailed cues to the how to the fight is developing (or, sometimes, not developing). As the manager of information and net traffic, the ability to apply your tidbits at the right time and place will ensure that the people who need support get it at the right time and place. You’ll have the most current view of the battlefield. Then, when it comes time to alert the QRF or launch a MEDEVAC or alert the Old Man, you’ll be able to synchronize that information in such a way that facilitates the mission, but doesn’t over-run it with nitnoid things.

Commandment 3: Thou shalt organize what you know, admit what you don’t know, and then seek the path to enlightenment through good guidance and the commander’s intent.

You, my little starling, don’t have to have all the answers all the time. You have to surround yourself with smart and energetic folks who do, and they will make sure you get the right information at the right time so you can affect the battle in a good way. You know that pesky S-2 shop that sometime wanders far and wide of the aviation daily battle rhythm, forgetting that the information that your attack weapons team needs is not the same as what your ring route requires to circulate the battlefield? Compartmentalize those tidbits and pay attention to the other battle captains and what their S-2 shops are reporting for the ground guys. Make your intel pulls into something that can actually push to the particular mission that is going out today. Your aircrews will thank you for it. PS: You have to know the commander’s intent before you can apply it.

Commandment 4: Thou shalt remember that rank means nothing and skillz (with the trendy z) mean everything.

You might not want to be there, but I can promise you that the NCOs around you REALLY don’t want to be there. There is nothing sexy about routine operations on a FOB in support of an aviation battalion. Nothing at all. Until four MEDEVAC kick off from a massive coordinated attack in the Chark Valley, a rocket attack smacks the airfield, the generator takes a big ol’ dump in the middle of the launch, and the air assault that was supposed to be wrapping up an hour ago requests additional support. THEN it’s not so boring and it gets sexy in a quickness. That’s where committed, trained, and team-oriented TOC staffers shine. You can affect this with your attitude and your commitment to training. Look around your TOC. Who’s the SPC that you can rely on in a pinch to rewire the TOC radios when they short out from a power spike in the middle of the night during a BCT-level air assault with attack aircraft support? Yeah, THAT guy. Foster THAT guy!

Commandment 5: Thou shalt seek little victories now, and take stock for the big victories later.

As soon as your RIP/TOA starts, you need plan for a swift and seamless win. That sets your pace for the rest of the month after RIP. As you get into the groove, your actions encourage your supporting battle NCOs and staff sections in TOC to find their groove. Then, when the really terrible things start happening, you’ve got a groove for the little things already in place. When you can handle yourself with that calm, collected air of a battle captain who really has the TOC and the stress under control, you instill confidence in the ground guys you support and the aircrews you’re preparing to launch. Once those really terrible, stressful days are done, you’ll appreciate the slow days more.

Commandment 6: Thou must always remember that bad things will happen, and you must steel your nerves.

You know how I feel about flight schoolers’ crying. This is a little different. You have to internalize frightening and awful things as a battle captain. People will say nasty things to you, just to get a rise and because they’re having a terrible day. You were the first thing they came in contact with. Aircrews will pitch a holy-hell fit on the radio about something, just because they can. You asked the wrong question on the SATCOM when they were busy listening to the ground force commander. You will experience the absolute powerlessness of watching the worst pitch battles of the Infantry unfold around you on CPOF, sending your aircrews into the line of fire to support them, only to see an Urgent MEDEVAC come across your net moments later. You may lose an aircraft. You may lose two aircraft. The CW2 you flew with, drank beers with, laughed with, and lived with is gone. Take a deep breath, go have a smoke, throw in a dip, steel yourself, and finish the fight. Then go cry when you’re done with your shift. You can call me. I’ll bring you smokes and a near-beer. I don’t mind that kind of crying. We’ve all been there. Any battle captain who tells you that they have never had one of THOSE days is a lying sack of sh*t.

Commandment 7: Thou shalt build the solution for the Old Man, and have it ready before he shows up.

When things goes sideways, the Old Man will show up. Don’t be afraid to have a plan ready to brief him with. He wants you to be the man (or chick) in command of his TOC. That’s why he put you there. He likes it when you take charge. He’s kinky like that. He wants to hear what you’ve noticed between your chatting with other battle captains on the net, those S-2 briefs you’ve been keeping up with, and the ideas you’ve developed about the AO because you’ve been paying attention to everything and storing away those seemingly irrelevant facts in your noodle for a time like this! The Old Man thinks he runs the fight, but it’s actually a farce. It’s your fight. You know it better than anyone because you live it every day. Make a plan to be proud of with the input from the good people around you. This also means you need to know his Commander’s Intent… again. See a pattern here?

Commandment 8: Thou shalt get out of your foxhole and go see someone else’s foxhole. You might even like the view.

Sometimes information doesn’t come to you. You have to go seek it out. If you’re an attack recon guy, you already know that, don’t you? If you’re a lift or assault guy, here’s your lesson: develop the situation rapidly and accurately by scouting for gaps, flanks, critical weapon systems, and key terrain. It’s a fundamental of reconnaissance. Get out of your foxhole, and go talk to the aircrews (especially the scout attack guys). Find out what they need, what they can do, and what they have been seeing. Take the S-2 shop soldiers with you. Learn how the other aircrews see things, and then help them to understand what your inner-visibility limitations are during mission execution. When they understand your limits, and you can see their strengths, you begin to unite the warfighter with the war executer (that’s you, by the way)… and that puts the bad guys on the run!

Commandment 9: Thou shalt stay out of other peoples’ cockpits until it’s your turn to fly.

Allow the aircrews to develop the situation. The last thing they need is you getting into an already space-limited cockpit with them. They are developing the situation by scouting for ENEMY gaps, flanks and weapons so that they can provide follow-on actions in support of the ground force commander. Just because bullets start flying or things start happening, you’re not the one in charge of the flight and the ground mission. The Air Mission Commander and the Ground Force Commander have those dubious distinctions. Be prepared to assist, but stay out of the fight until your presence is requested by the AMC. When you get very smart and savvy on your battle captain job, you’ll know when that time is coming.

Commandment 10: Thou shalt hold this truth always: Little is lovely. Small is beautiful. God (or your own personal Higher Power) is in the details.

For a battle captain, the small details are critical. They are beautiful. Nothing is lovelier to see (or do) than conducting a perfect pre-mission brief and an expert post-mission debrief, with all the needed details for the mission available to the aircrews. It sets everything up for success. It makes you, young battle captain, look flawless.

And just for good measure…

Commandment 11: Thou shalt have an exit strategy and keep it secret.

A good battle captain always retains the freedom to maneuver on the battlefield. You’re a very smart young officer, and I’ll let you figure out the meaning to that one on your own.

Now go forth, and do great things.

Love,

The Doctrinatrix