Military Spouse Appreciation Day

It should come as no surprise that Military Spouse Appreciation Day is the Friday before Mother’s Day weekend. This is a day where we celebrate the spouses- male and female- who keep the service members marching in the right direction. 

I could wax poetic about the military spouse and her (or his) role in the ability of the Armed Forces to rapidly project military might and power to our enemies around the world, but that would be pandering.

Instead, I made you this. Enjoy!

Field San(-ity)

So, as you know, we are rewriting aviation’s doctrine up here in the Penthouse. Part of sorting and rewriting manuals is figuring out what is really critical to retain and what you might be able to delete. It’s like cleaning out the fridge, but without finding something moldy in the back that growls at you when you pick it up. During this process, we have all really come to enjoy evaluating the things that are important when conducting operations, like movement to contact, and the things that are REALLY important to conducting operations, like field sanitation.  

And, really, there is only one part of field sanitation that anyone in the field truly cares about.

I couldn’t hold this back from the field any longer. Technically you cannot conduct planning and operations using draft doctrine or publications. It all has to be provided to the field (in Big Reveal style) by the Army Publishing Directorate. Consider this critical piece of technique (which is a method that is non-prescriptive in nature, as defined by JP 1-0)… like a “best practice,” as my boss is so fond of saying.

Actually, this was inspired by that same boss. He’s pretty smart, that boss of mine.

Take a good, long look, kiddies. This is what happens on a Friday in TRADOC.
We have cocktails... and write doctrine.
Don't say that "it will never happen" to you...





If you like this, then you'll love the rest of the chapter and the manual that covers it for Army Aviation: ATP 3-04.15, Aviation Sustainment. 

"It was a dark and stormy night...," or why vignettes can be like herpes in doctrinal manuals?

So like I was telling you last time, I was up at Langley Air Force Base last week (base motto: our Joint Strike Fighters are awesome and are so expensive they must run on pure gottdamm panda blood). I was doing what I do best, writing some seriously heavy stuff. Since the Air Land Sea Application Center is supposed to produce publications that the warfighter can actually use to fight wars (or as toilet paper in a pinch), there was some serious discussion about vignettes.

Vignettes are these awesomesauce little stories in manuals that are suppose to make the material both relevant to the reader and engaging while emphasizing the doctrinal message in the body of the publication. It’s basically a “no sh*t, there I was” story about whatever specific chapter of a manual you’re reading. Frankly, I think they add nothing to an ALSA pub, the place where the venerable and divine JFIRE manual comes from (which would be more divine if they would remove the section on Joint Air Attack Teams because that stuff gets planned at echelons so far above the warfighter’s reality that that particular reality has special parking at the commissary and lives in housing where one rarely finds weeds, rust, or cheap beer in cans).

On the first page of the old 2007 version of the MTTP for Airfield Opening there was a vignette. This immediately became a discussion point for the writing group. The discussion went like this:

“WHAAAAA?”

“This adds nothing to the chapter."

“It adds humor to the chapter."

“No, it adds herpes to the chapter."

“F*ck it. Delete it, dude."

And then we deleted it. Buh-bye, retarded little vignette. Your 15 minutes of fame are now done. Vignettes should add something to the discussion or make you feel like reading more (which is especially important when you need to trick people into reading a particularly boring manual like, say, JP 3-30, Command and Control for Joint Air Operations, or the Utility and Cargo manual for the Whackhawk pilots).

But for posterity, I have captured that little deleted nugget of joy here. You might enjoy it, I guess. Then again, I have yet to meet someone who would actually enjoy herpes, but there is always a first time for everything.

It was 0200 on a cloudy, moonless night. A few minutes earlier, a special tactics team (STT) had just departed the aircraft to conduct a high-altitude low-opening parachute technique (HALO) insertion onto the airfield. As the STT prepared the drop zone, the aircraft came around to conduct a low-level airborne insertion of our team. Recent intelligence revealed that the airfield runway had two major craters and was also covered by debris consisting of damaged vehicles and dirt mounds. The area was also considered an uncertain environment, although it was expected to be a relatively permissive entry for our forces since no significant activity had been seen in or around the airfield for the past 24 hours by surveillance platforms. Our team inserted and immediately conducted a sweep of the runway and surrounding areas to identify hazards, mark unexploded ordnance (UXO), confirm surveillance information, and establish security around the airfield. Airborne engineers began the task of clearing the runway and at first light airfield opening leadership arrived via helicopter after the airfield was secured. Within 12 hours, airfield opening forces began to open and establish the airfield. Over the next several days, additional forces continued to arrive, and the airfield was fully operational. Although some areas of improvement were identified, one of the major successes noted was the seamless transition of airfield responsibility from initial forces to airfield opening and follow-on forces. This success was mainly attributed to the detailed planning of all participants for several weeks prior to the event.

1LT, special tactics team (STT), USAF

Yeah, I know. It was written by a 1LT in a Special Tactics Team. This is like listening to a PFC straight out of AIT in his first Air Traffic Services Company tell his facility chief how to integrate the larger airspace construct for flight following procedure development. Someone is going to get his head bounced off a console station, and it's probably not the NCO. Given the amount of critical data that a senior airfield authority and airfield management team needs to accomplish their nearly no-fail mission when they transition a new airfield from the seizure bubbas to the follow-on force, we couldn’t figure out what the benefit of that vignette was. And we were a pretty savy group too. The vignette pretty much said everything that everyone already knows: gee, opening and running an airfield is hard and dangerous and (when worded properly) a little sexier than everyone else’s job. Well, no sh*t, Sherlock! Why do you think they wrote a manual about it?

Mainly, I think we just resented that the vignette from a 1LT. After all, 1LT is 2LT… with intent.

So, after a couple  several  many  too many beers, this is what we writers came up with as a translation for the vignette of awesomesauceness:

It was a dark and stormy night. We showed up to the airfield. Nothing happened. We found some craters. We didn’t fill them. We found some explosive sh*t. We left that for the explosive ordinance dudes to deal with. No one shot at us. We landed a couple helicopters. We didn’t f*ck that up too egregiously. Once we’d stood around long enough, and looked requisitely sexy enough for some photographers from the New York Times, we left the airfield to the real controllers.

1LT (who was only allowed to speak when a Tech or Master Sergeant was present), special tactics team (STT), USAF

Moral of the story: don’t add vignettes to manuals. Doctrine writers will get drunk and laugh at delete them later.

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 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

When the "Old Man" asserts his dominance...

I was on leave last week. The week before that, I was in a conference all day, every day. The week before that, I was flying a simulator with about as much computing capacity as my iPorn. So, needless to say, I’ve been avoid doctrine writing and reading people’s whack ideas about tactical stuff and Army things in general. I guess I missed a post-wide run with the Aviation CG. Meh. I don’t think he missed me though. It was part of the Suicide Prevention Month activities, designed to increase everyone’s morale and inspire teamwork and unity, which is fine. I’m all about running in the mornings and backwards planning on soldiers for a huge formation run. On the other hand, I don’t like being fibbed to. I know, it was just a little fib from a man who pretty much can crush my life and career with just a sideways glance and a nod in my general direction, like The Godfather ordering Luca Brasi to make someone "swim wit da fishes." Actually, I really like the CG. I saw him in the commissary one Sunday afternoon in old shorts and running shoes, reading the nutritional contents of a package of regular cream cheese and comparing it to a package of fake lo-cal cream cheese. I was pleased to see that he put the fake lo-cal cream cheese down. He’s normal and eats real cream cheese. I like that in a General Officer.

So what did MG Crutchfield fib about?

The reason for the run: morale. Running in big groups at the crack of dawn does not inspire morale. This is doubly so when the first song that is played to “get everyone in the running mood” is Eye of the Tiger. Who picks that? Is there an approved play list for large formation runs where the only songs that can be played are Eye of the Tiger, Thunderstruck, or Pour Some Sugar on Me? Branch out, people. Get a little crazy. How some Cult or Heavy or Ramones? 

More importantly, never fib about the reason for a large formation run. If you’re the commander of a squadron or battalion or brigade, just come out and say it: you’re having a large formation run to assert your dominance over your unit. It’s okay. You’re allowed to do that. You're in charge. 

I would love to see that on an OPORD for a squadron or brigade run one day for the commander’s intent: Old Man wants to assert his dominance.

I’d be strangely alright with that. That, and eating real cream cheese.

For the last time: CCA is NOT CAS!

I’ve reached that moment. You know? THAT moment. The moment when you’re trying to justify your argument or get your point across about something and you’re not sure that anyone who really matters is actually paying any attention to you. Rather than continuing to beat my head against a wall, I’m considering the low-brow route, combining the two things that have come to define my life at the moment: Army Aviation Doctrine and fancy shoes.

I give you my manifesto to the Maneuver Center of Excellence in Fort Benning, GA, and the Fires Center of Excellence in Fort Sill, OK.

Dear Maneuver and Fires Centers,

Please understand that I’ve been harping about this CAS vs. CCA thing for quite some time now, and I grow tired of trying to explain the difference to you, only to have you blow me off again… and again… and again! At this point, I will do anything to get you to stop referring to the Close Combat Attack as "Close Air Support" because you’re ruining it for everyone who flies helicopters with real guns on them.  Please see the enclosed diagram for demonstration of my point, so that you’ll finally get it right.

Big Licky Love,

Doctrinatrix