The Neon Green Thong

When I said that my Maintenance Test Pilot was standing around in Iraq in a Kevlar, body armor, boots and a neon green thong, I was not kidding. Much like discovering a laser ranger finder designator in a 20’ MILVAN in my motorpool, I cannot make this sh*t up.

We were walking back from the flight line. Dawn was breaking, allowing shimmering morning light to slowly creep across the sh*thole we called FOB MacKenzie. The scents of the burn pit and the blackwater pond behind the oft-broken shower trailer wafted delicately through the air. In the morning haze, our 1SG was arriving in our trusty 5-ton with a homemade breakfast of rubbery powdered eggs, Grade-E meaty sausage patties, instant grits, and a gluey concoction that was either cement aggregate or oatmeal. We were lucky to have such a delicious fare prepared for us by men who’d probably been on patrol a few hours prior in Ad Daluyiah. It was one of those rare mornings when we’d been stuck out in Ba’qubah all night because of a massive fog bank that had rapidly descended upon Diyala before we could make the run for the drier Salah ad Din province area. We were groggy. We were eager for breakfast and bed. We were not expecting to see the maintenance test pilot, taking in the majesty of the rising sun over Iraq, while enjoying a morning smoke and cup of coffee. As the threat of indirect fires was always present, he was appropriately dressed in his Kevlar, body armor, and boots.

And a neon green thong.

Only the thong.

Warrant officers.

*le sigh*

Well, at least he was wearing his Kevlar and body armor.

I'm going "organic." And you?

Ahhh, Center for Army Lessons Learned handbooks. Love them. Hate them. It matters not. You should still read them. Sometimes you find gems, lessons that you can use later to build better systems in your own organization. Sometimes you don’t find gems. You find The Army’s “Organic” Unmanned Aircraft Systems: An Unhealthy Choice for the Joint Operational Environment, an AGI article by Major Travis A. Burdine of the US Air Force (originally printed in the Summer 2009 issue of Air & Space Power Journal).  Now, I will admit that is CALL Handbook (11-29) was from June of 2011, but it had Air Ground Integration on the cover. I was a proverbial moth to a flame.

Application for organic UAS as part of Army Aviation concerns me because I have, in the most poetic way possible, drank deep the kool-aid of cooperative employment and teaming between unmanned aircraft systems and rotary wing assets. I believe in organic UAS. I also know that UAS will eventually replace me as a reconnaissance platform, and I’ll be out of job some day. Acceptance is the first step to admitting you have a problem, right? Major Burdine’s article was of particular interest to me as it shares space on my desk at the moment with the notes from the 101st Combat Aviation Brigade’s combat training center rotation. 101 CAB is the first CAB to boast organic ownership of UAS, specifically the RQ-7B Shadow. If the Air Force has good ideas or suggestions for making this process of good integration better, I’m all ears.

Except it didn’t.

Major Travis A. Burdine, a graduate of the Air Force Academy, was both an E-3 AWACS senior pilot and has strapped himself into the control station of a MQ-1B Predator for 750 hours at the time he penned his opus Air & Space Power Journal. He was also the subject matter expert on Predator and Reaper systems on the Air Force Unmanned Aircraft System Task Force, assigned to the Air Staff in Washington DC. He was also a Standardization Pilot for the 432d Wing at Creech AFB, where large Air Force UAS come and go, raining doom down upon the doomed heads of our doomed enemies. It all makes me wanna sing The Doom Song. The man has street cred though; I’ll give him that.

Two themes kept creeping back in my head as I scribbled with a Sharpie marker all over the article: who is the customer for airpower and what happens when we separate the airpower customer and supplier by thousands of miles?

There is little that compares between the RQ-7B and its bigger brothers, the Air Force’s MQ-1 Predator and the Army’s MQ-1C Gray Eagle. They are all UAS, yes, but the Shadow is unarmed, save for a laser designation payload. It’s eyes, without teeth. Yet, it shares the same dilemma as the larger, armed versions owned by both the Air Force and the Army: who asks for it, who gets it, and who controls it. These are things that concern me as a doctrine writer for aerial reconnaissance, and as scout pilot who will work with these systems in combat operations.

It all opens with a scenario… naturally. The Air Force loves f*cking vignettes after all.

Grunt 21, an Army ground unit in the combat zone, replies, “Cyclops 55, this is Grunt 21. Go ahead with check-in.”

The pilot, located in a ground control station in Las Vegas, Nevada, says, “Cyclops 55 is a single MQ-1B Predator, currently overhead at 12,000 feet, armed with two Hellfire missiles, 21 hours of playtime, with infrared-pointer and laser-designator capability. Sensors are on the target house, ready for situation update.”

 “Cyclops 55, Grunt 21 copies all. Situation update is as follows: the ground commander has been waiting two days to get Air Force UAS support over this target house. We plan to execute a raid in two hours. We are looking for a high-level insurgent commander and a weapons cache.”

“Cyclops 55 copies all.”

Direct from Las Vegas, Nevada, folks! It’s your very own low density, high demand unmanned asset, complete with ample playtime for all your mission needs!... focus, Doctrinatrix.

Just prior to the planned raid, the UAS crew hears a call for help from Alpha 6, an Army special forces team located 15 miles away from Grunt 21. “Alpha 6 is being engaged. Multiple friendlies killed in action. Requesting immediate CAS [close air support]!”

Knowing that troops in contact (TIC) are the joint force commander’s (JFC) highest-priority objective, the UAS crew immediately conveys the TIC information to the combined air and space operations center (CAOC) and the special forces operations center. The CAOC informs Cyclops 55 that, at three minutes away, it is the closest asset.

I suppose I should have had my doubts about the article with the opening scenario. By the time I reached the end with CAOC dynamically retasking the UAS, I was justifiably pissed off… on behalf of the fictional commander for Grunt 22.

As the missile destroys the target, the Predator liaison officer in the CAOC receives a message from the original Army unit that was supposed to have Predator coverage all day: “Cyclops 55, there is an Army colonel on the phone with the joint force air component commander [JFACC], screaming about how you botched the entire operation by leaving his unit without his permission. He cancelled his entire ground operation because you failed to support him by departing your orbit . . . again.”

I’ve often said that the quick reaction force (QRF) mentality will get you in trouble, and it did in this scenario. When you have a mission, you have an assigned master. Obey your master until released from your mission or retasked to another mission by your master.

Who really controlled that UAS? The CAOC or the ground force commander to whom coverage and operational control had been given for that time period? Then again, the scenario lacked crucial details too. Was the UAS aircrew briefed on the ground scheme of maneuver for Grunt 22? Had they been part of the mission planning process for the ground scheme of maneuver? What was the established dynamic retasking order? Who was the approval authority for changes to mission? Who was the priority for support? Was everyone briefed on those priorities and authorities? What do you mean by “departing your orbit… again” anyway? Who is in charge of this little canine and equestrian extravaganza?

This is what Army pilots think about all the time. Well, that… and porn.

The first sections to the body of the article felt like fluffity fluff fluff to me, so much Air Force self-pandering and aggrandizing that I found myself scribbling the same question in the margin over and over again: Who works for whom here? I’m dangerous with a Sharpie, people.

“The primary purpose of Army Aviation is to support ground-maneuver commanders and their objectives,” Maj Burdine quoted that from just about every piece of Army Aviation doctrine that has ever been written. With the absence of a need to establish air supremacy in the regions we currently fight in, the customer is the ground force commander to whom the asset has been assigned. After all, who actually clears and holds physical terrain? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not anyone who wears flight suit.

Well, then. Fly to Afghanistan and get it yourself.

I choked through the article, which lacked grist on the cooperation between air and ground forces, favoring instead the Air Force method of asset control via the CAOC, centrally parceling out support from on high. Meh. I gutted through the discussion on rated pilots versus operators as a significant risk factor in the safety of combat airspace. I agreed with Major Burdine about the need to return to a better common operating picture in preparing to face an enemy with a significant air defense threat. I also agreed with him that the constant reliance on the restricted operating zone (ROZ) as an airspace control method is disorganized and inefficient at best. It was also nice to see the admittance that the “CAOC has little situational awareness of air operations below the coordinating altitude” since the “Army’s organic aviation assets such as helicopters and UASs take off, land, and fly at the discretion of the ground-maneuver commander.” Hey, admitting you have a problem is a good start, right?

Finally I got the part I was hoping to find: the zen-like, Big Lebowski-style lesson I was hoping for… kinda!

“Army leaders argue that organic CAPs [combat air patrols] of Sky Warriors [MQ-1C] supporting the division commander will be more effective than RSO [remote split operation] CAPs. An Army publication notes that ‘dedicated UAS at brigade level will increase effectiveness of operations by providing more responsive and more detailed reconnaissance.’ The Army contends that requesting UAS support in the Air Force’s method of centralized control is too slow and carries too much risk of having the asset diverted to other priorities. It also believes that RSOs negatively impact effectiveness due to the communication degradation caused by the 8,000 miles between crews and ground commanders. Finally, the Army argues that in order to fight as a cohesive unit, the aircrew needs to deploy with the units it supports, so as to ‘feel’ the intensity and tempo of the day-to-day fight.

These concerns are warranted; however, it is unlikely that the ground commander will be colocated with the UAS crews due to Sky Warrior’s runway-length requirements. The Army will use UAS communication methods similar to those the Air Force uses today, such as radio, chat, phone, and e-mail.”

The Army argues that it wants to fight as a cohesive unit? The aircrew needs to deploy with the units they support? Aircrews should ‘feel’ the intensity and tempo of the day-to-day fight? Okay, the last question is a little too touchy-feely, we-all-fight-this-war-and-suffer-together-ish. I’ll admit to that.

Anyway, there are more important questions to retort with anyway. Shouldn’t aircrews and ground forces be capable of constant and daily interaction to ensure that missions and battle drills are commonly understood and shared? Shouldn’t air and ground staffs be cooperatively involved in the planning process, from mission conception through the rehearsal and execution?

More importantly, what happens when the 30K generator that supports the command post takes a big ol’ dump in the middle of planning or executing your operation, and all your precious digital systems are gone in one nasty power surge? So much for air ground integration, I guess. 

So, now what?

Admittedly, the Army has not cracked the nut on dealing with airspace. We’re a disaster. Dropping restricted operating zones (ROZ) on the battlefield is a band-aid to a larger problem: the need for comprehensive airspace tracking and management, especially when crossing brigade boundaries. The ROZ is an inefficient method, especially when altitude and time separation can create a more seamless airspace if used properly. While a snap, or immediate, ROZ is ideal for company-controlled UAS, a Gray Eagle is a little hefty for such things. This is not to say that we should run back to the arms of the CAOC to solve this problem, but perhaps we should be looking to improving our communications with the Brigade Aviation Element and the Air Defense and Airspace Management cell of the brigade combat team. Just sayin’…

The reason Army Aviation was taken out of corps-level of control and placed down at the division-level of command is to increase access for the tactical commander, specifically the brigade commander. If the tactical units at brigade and below cannot get access to their aviation support due to dynamic retasking at higher, we have bigger issues… something Major Burdine’s opening scenario depicted. The decision to place large armed UAS at the combat aviation brigade and the smaller RQ-7B in the cavalry squadron was to increase the access and integration, just like we do for our rotary wing assets.

There is no right solution to the problem, but the problem continues to exist. Perhaps Major Burdine closed it the best way possible.

“Airmen and soldiers alike must put service rivalries aside, think creatively, and work together to solve today’s problems.”

Just like in anyone else’s private kitchen, the choice of organic or nonorganic assets is personal preference, but it’s the user who ultimately makes the choice, not the supplier.

Demonstrating Combat Power



See? Doctrine is fun. How else do we learn about
aerial interdiction against sneaky Russians?

Can a working group full of aviation doctrine writers be fun? You might say "no." I say "yes." It's because I find good doctrine sexy. 

Today my boss started off our weekly work group for our new collection of Army Aviation manuals with reading an excerpt from an article regarding the Doctrine 2015 program, which will lead to restructuring Army doctrine into something usable and functional for the warfighter. Since I’ve been living the Doctrine 2015 dream for about six months now, I’m immune to the platitudes of a speech writer’s pandering in articles from Fort Leavenworth, the Intellectual Center of Nowhereinparticular. My boss continued to read a section about Unified Land Operations and ADP 3-0 and something he said caught my attention.

“There is nothing new about the concept of seizing, retaining and exploiting the initiative in order to achieve military goals. It is the essence of what Army leaders do and have done throughout history. We force our adversaries to fight on our terms, at times and places of our choosing, and in ways that place them at the greatest disadvantage. We achieve a superior position through the destruction of enemy forces, capabilities or sources by seizing key terrain, protecting key populations, building partner capacity or through a tailored combination of these.”—LTG David Perkins and CPT Nathan Finney

So, first of all, this is a great selling point for everything I love about attack and reconnaissance: seizing, retaining and exploiting the initiative, forcing our adversaries to fight on our terms, and achieving a superior position through the destruction of enemy forces. Then I got stuck thinking about the phrase “fighting on our terms.”

Here is the problem with that little nugget: when have we, in aviation, ever gotten to choose the terms that we fight with? Sure, the combined arms team can drive the fight with the proper demonstration and application of combat power at the right time and place. But it was the nebulous side of “fighting on our terms” had me wondering… the things we cannot control as pilots.

Try though I may, I cannot control weather. I cannot choose to fight in places where the climate has only reasonably mild temperatures, low density and pressure altitude, sits around sea level, with only favorable winds, and level or open terrain. If that were the case, I would be fighting a war in south eastern Alabama. 

Since you cannot pick the climate and terrain of where the fight will be, you have to know how to demonstrate and apply combat power in a judicious manner in any location. Typically, this location includes, but is not limited to: high temperatures, high pressure altitude, heavy loads of weapons and fuel, and confining terrain. It's not ideal. 

Then there is this thing:

Yeah. I’ll give you a second to recover from that. Oh, and if you cringed when the helicopter hit, you’re not alone. I’m sure the split second when the aircrew realized they were not going to recover this maneuver, just before they pancaked that aircraft, they probably cringed a little too.

If you’re not familiar with what the aircrew was trying to do, it’s called a cyclic climb to a coordinated turn, or a return-to-target. It’s used a method combat maneuvering flight to quickly reengage a target and keep a low profile for returning surface fires. It requires good coordination between cyclic, collective, and antitorque pedals. It requires the aircrew to be cognizant of where the winds are coming from, so they can terminate the maneuver favorably. It also means that they must be aware that, when space for adequate recovery at the end of maneuver is not available, you need power… which isn’t always available in high, hot conditions with restrictive terrain.

The first time I ever saw a RTT was as a young LT in OIF II. I was with an experienced IP who executed the maneuver during an engagement. Everything went perfect. He terminated into the wind, he had protected ample power for the inevitable cushion he’d need at the end, and he kept the aircraft in trim the whole time. When all was said and done, and we were safely flying back to FOB Warhorse for post-mission debrief and cocktails, he asked me if I would “like to learn how to do that.” This is like asking a fat kid if they would like their cake with a side of cake. 

It took ages before I felt comfortable doing them in an environment like Iraq. And by “comfortable,” I mean I wasn’t removing the seat cover from butt at the end of the maneuver. Frankly, I doubt that I would ever be completely comfortable doing them in Afghanistan. I don’t even like making left turns in Iraq or Nosnatchistan in an OH-58D.

We don’t get to delay the fight for favorable conditions. The enemy knows that too. They pick places to fight where aircrews are always at a disadvantage. They love to fight in box canyons in the foothills of the Himalayas. They seem to enjoy operations in urban desert terrain, where lines of inner-visibility are restricted by shacks and crumbling buildings filled with equally freaked out civilians. With restrictions like that, it’s amazing what good pilots have been able to accomplish on behalf of ground forces in past decade.

You don’t get to pick where you fight. You can pick how and where you train for your fight though. No matter what happens, we have an obligation to protect our combat power for later… so we can demonstrate it correctly… by f*ckin’ up some bad guys with our munitions.  

Reading the ATM before reinventing the wheel

I know the Army is constantly changing, but in reality there are very few times when we can actually hold a mighty battle sword aloft and honestly declare that we have REALLY invented the wheel. Every time the Army goes some place new, or we move to a new unit, or we burn poop in another country, it feels like the first time. “It feels like the verrrryyy first timmmme.” In all truth, it’s not. *le sigh* 

I know that you know that Afghanistan and Iraq are different places with different considerations regarding ROE, the enemy, the locals, the terrain, the fight, the reasons for occupation, yadda yadda. I’m not talking about the tactics that the enemy fighter. Enemy tactics will even vary within the borders of Afghanistan, from river valley to river valley. Tangi is not Helmand is most certainly not the Arghandab.  

But whether it’s a Wahhabist trained insurgent in the Pech Valley or a homegrown fighter from the streets of Mosul or a young infantryman from North Korea, it’s the same caliber of munitions. Your reaction will be the same: actions on contact. 

So, let’s discuss reacting to small arms. If you had the sudden urge to parrot, “Immediately deploy to concealment. If concealment is unavailable, make sharp turns of unequal magnitude and unequal intervals and small changes in altitude. Consider employment of immediate suppressive fire,” you’ve probably been asked that question on your APART before. Whether you are doing a pitch back turn, a break turn, or executing a cyclic climb to a push-over break, the reason and reaction to small arms fire remain the same. You know this because your Aircrew Training Manual says so.

But the ATM information had to come from somewhere, right?

Who wrote that?

Who figured it all out first?

Well, we did. “We” as in Army Aviation. Well, if we were still flying slick loaches, fat Hueys, and slim Cobras over triple canopy jungle in Southeast Asia, that is. This is not the first time that we have had to evade surface based small arms fire. Even if you change the name and claim you invented it (Wells Maneuver, anyone?), it’s still the same ol’ bullets. You don’t need to be told by an S-2 how prevalent small arms fire is and how you need to avoid it because the ATM beat him to it! Of course, doctrine only works if you read it.

The truth is that enemy fire occurs where you fly. It doesn’t occur where you don’t fly. Enemy small arms fire at helicopters transiting through an area is not an indicator of how many insurgents live or ply their trade there. Most engagements of helicopters with small arms are targets of opportunity, made available by pilots developing patterns and other general pilot stupidity. The enemy is going to do what it always does: shoot at you. The question is what will you do when that happens?

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.

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?

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?

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