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September-October 2002 English Edition
60 Radical C2 Doctrine and CP Design
by Lieutenant Colonel Jack Burkett, U.S. Army, Retired



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The instruments of battle are valuable only if one knows how to use them.

—Ardant DuPicq

The division commander's command and control (C2) vehicle moves swiftly across the division's battlespace, just behind the digitized division's right flank brigade. He patches his cavalry squadron commander's optical scanner and the unmanned aerial vehicle video into his processing unit to monitor the division's flank. Moments later, his division's combat vehicles roll past the burned-out hulks of enemy armored vehicles scanning for signs of movement. Suddenly, the flank brigades' vehicles swerve hard left to avoid enemy artillery. They received an alert warning and flash command from the division commander through their on-board computer decision support processors. All players in this division know precisely where every battlefield element is. No more guessing, no lack of information, no mistaken identity; just positive control. Welcome to the world of the commander of a Force XXI unit.

Will the design and processes being developed for the future command post (CP) support a scenario such as this one? If there is any doubt at all that it will be able to, the U.S. Army must reexamine its CP design processes and make some significant course adjustments. Ultimately, the CP's primary role is to help the commander maintain situational awareness. Too much information can be more detrimental to effective battlefield decisionmaking than too little, as it consumes valuable time to analyze data and convert it to timely, meaningful situational awareness during the battle. Emerging technology and function-based processes are the cornerstones for developing future CPs. The Army still needs the human interface, but quantum improvements in digitization, space-based technology, airborne platforms, and rapidly processed data allow commanders to decide, detect, and deliver much faster than ever before on the battlefield.

In the information age, compressed time dramatically affects the commander's ability to assess the situation, make a decision, and then act. Radical change requires moving away from designing CPs around the military decisionmaking process. The U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC) action officers and senior leaders will chair meetings and conferences to determine new CP designs, only to be met with defeat or bureaucratic inaction. It would seem that these meetings are uniformly unproductive because their premise is flawed. These conferences normally invite each branch and functional proponent to contribute to the CP design by submitting its personnel and equipment requirements. Proponent representatives' perceptions of what functions the new CP would require and emerging doctrine would guide their input into the design process. Proponents lobby hard to convince leaders that without their presence and support in the tactical operations center (TOC) soldiers will die. Collecting each proponent's requirements into one unit always produces the same outcome. The CP does not become smaller; it grows exponentially with the number of proponents. Look at the size and complexity of current CPs to see how successful they have been at increasing CPs' size and complexity.

Today's Army is conceiving, shaping, testing, and fielding an Army that must be prepared to meet the challenges of the new millennium at a furious pace. Technological advances continue to shape the way the Army will fight. The pace of operations and the volume of information are now greater than ever before. A key factor in the success of this change is the unit CP. Transitioning from current C2 operating procedures and processes using radical, revolutionary thought is the focus of this article. To function in an environment like the one described, a sea change in thought and actions on CP roles and functions is required to design and field future CPs.

CP Design

Imagine the bridge of the Starship Enterprise as the ideal 21st-century CP. It has all the basic requirements: a small, integrated staff; instant access to information from all supporting elements; and large-screen situational awareness. It would not be a great stretch to apply the starship model to Army C2 requirements. In Lewis Carroll's book, Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter counsels Alice: "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." This sentiment might aptly describe current CP design efforts and results.

One would expect that CP design and reorganization efforts would accomplish more than moving battlefield operating system (BOS) cells from one location to another without increasing efficiency. An analogy of current CP development methods is one in which Boeing develops the 747 by contracting with United Airlines to produce an improved 737 while it is still in service. On the surface, the 747/737 comparison seems an extreme analogy, but is it? The tasks of designing a new aircraft or designing a new CP with digitized C2 capabilities share similar levels of design complexity and system integration. A new CP design model is clearly required to realize significant increases in performance while improving efficiency and survivability. Both examples display that failing to perform a job correctly can result in catastrophic consequences. Force XXI CP design requires new thought paradigms. Designers must adopt a radical "out-of-the-box" approach to negate the experiential mind-set of "that's the way we have always done it" that influences current efforts.

Proposed Developmental Paradigms

Changes in the way we think and approach C2 require several different but interrelated elements. Evolutionary change requires a forward-looking, anticipatory approach to horizontal and vertical integration and synchronization of doctrine, training, leader development, organization, materiel, and soldier support initiatives from a total system perspective. Each CP design is rooted in a set of baseline, but immutable, functions of battle command processes and procedures at each echelon for each proponent. Following are some development paradigms.

The perils of semantics. The first step toward thinking out of the box is to break away from current doctrine's terminology and semantics. Uncontrolled, diversity in perceptions and experiences is one's worst enemy in designing new CPs. However, with control and focus, diversity is an inherent strength. The procedures and processes individuals have experienced in previous CPs limit their ability to think outside the box. Therefore, when discussing CP operations, 10 experienced commanders and staff officers may have 10 different visions of how to apply the concept they just discussed. Subsequently, papers, e-mails, and workshops that follow are ineffective due, in part, to the participants' different perspectives and experiences. These efforts result in merely rearranging BOS cells and elements within current organizational structures without substantially changing end-state design, efficiency, or survivability.

The 4th Squadron, 7th Cavalry TOC in Iraq, 2 March 1991.

To limit the effect of experiential perceptions when developing new concepts, change the C2 terminology during the conceptual stage. For example, address future CPs as control and direction centers. What they are called is less important than the mind-set present while conceptualizing a new design. "Business as usual" limits design options by assuming predetermined mind-sets. The result is similar to rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, whereby there are no substantive direction changes. It is essential that semantics be changed to limit current commanders' and staffs' experiential perceptions so they can think outside the box and achieve a fresh, innovative perspective of new C2 doctrine and facilities design.

Question C2 doctrinal and operational norms. The second essential element of thinking out of the box is to question the way C2 is currently conducted. For example, do units still require a tactical (TAC) CP? Maybe not! Research shows that there is no definitive documentation directing the establishment of a TAC CP as an element of a C2 structure. Yet, every maneuver headquarters above battalion has some form of TAC CP. The TAC CP was probably originally the idea of a commander who displaced one vehicle forward from his main CP to support radio communications with his forward units. He could then work from the vehicle without traveling back to the main CP. Other commanders likely used this idea because it was successful and solved a common problem.

Eventually, using a TAC CP became the norm and found its way into doctrine. What may have started out as one M577 or other CP vehicle evolved into today's TAC CPs, with eight, 10, or more supporting vehicles. In reality, the TAC CP simply evolved over time. This evolutionary process resulted in its current position as an essential element of CP operations. Once in doctrine, the TAC CP became a documented and accepted requirement for successfully applying C2 doctrine. Today's TAC CP growth in size, complexity, and importance borders on being dysfunctional to effective C2 operations. Out-of-the-box thinking requires serious questioning of both doctrinal and operational norms.

This article does not imply that a commander no longer needs to go forward. A commander must go forward to be a successful leader during battle, but a commander may no longer have to go forward to control tactical operations. If the limitations of the range of the radio communications structure created the original requirement for a TAC CP, then it evolved for all the right reasons. Today, however, advances in digitization and communications would negate this requirement. Major General P. Wood, commander of the 4th Armored Division during World War II, is an example of a commander who used successful battlefield C2 techniques. Wood commanded his division in combat well forward and issued orders from the hood of his jeep.

Today's battlefield commander can see and control his forces more effectively from his main CP, which means the TAC CP is no longer a viable C2 mechanism. Other C2 functions also require scrutiny: staff structure at all echelons; supporting elements such as the fire support element (FSE), engineer, and air defense artillery (ADA) cells; the rear CP; and a planning cell. Each of these norms requires review and revision.

Design to proven baseline parameters. Managing the critical requirements of CP design requires a set of proven parameters with which to measure effectiveness and efficiency. These parameters support the designing and testing phases of CP development. More important, they offer easy-to-understand rules that will filter unneeded functions or processes that migrate into the CP structure. Commanders need baseline design parameters to follow when developing the CP's conceptual and physical capabilities. Each parameter will support change, but it is within their collective synergy that real change will begin. The following suggest some developmental parameters for CPs:

Form follows function. Real design change must start with a change or revision of proven or perceived C2 functions. Renowned architect Frank Lloyd Wright used the concept of "form follows function" in all of his building designs. Using this concept, Wright would identify and study the functions to be performed in the building and then design the structure to support those functions. Today, it seems that there is a "ready, aim, fire" approach to CP design—determining the number of vehicles needed to support the CP and its physical layout and then determining its functions. CP design must be function based rather than based on the perceptions of novice designers and developers. A no-kidding list of critical wartime functions is required to allocate space and equipment to support that function.

Unit is committed to combat. The premise of this parameter is that the unit is actively committed to a combat operation in which soldiers are in harm's way. Those who have been in combat know that such a situation warrants establishing priorities quickly. However, one day, the Army will encounter a tougher foe than Saddam Hussein's Republican Guard or unorganized riffraff in the Third World. When that day arrives, there will not be anything virtual about the reality. CPs designed around deployment or planning tasks do not reflect the exigencies of combat. The reality of combat operations must be the standard from which each design is developed and measured. Author Guy Sager's book, The Forgotten Soldier, graphically describes the conditions to be experienced in combat and under which the CP must function.

Establish baseline information requirements. This design parameter implies that there are a limited number of critical information requirements necessary for a unit to conduct combat operations. For example, the commander of a heavy brigade must be aware of certain fundamental information requirements regardless of the mission or area of operations. At a minimum, the commander requires the location of his subordinate elements one level down, the status of class III, the status of class V, the status of his fighting vehicles, personnel status, and enemy units' locations. These five baseline information requirements are critical to successful brigade combat operations. A light brigade commander's baseline functions would necessarily be somewhat different in that he would be less concerned with the status of class III. They apply whether the unit is fighting conventionally in Iraq or conducting peace enforcement operations in the Balkans.

The S3 provides unit locations, the S4 provides the status of classes III and IV, the S1 provides personnel status, and the S2 provides enemy units' locations. During combat, all other information is noise to the commander that inhibits his ability to maintain situational awareness. Any other information requirements are situational requirements that can be added and deleted, according to the mission. This example applies to all command and staff functions in each proponent of the C2 architecture. Determining the baseline information requirements of each CP for each echelon and proponent will set the parameters for identifying mandatory equipment and personnel. When information is filtered this way, excess, nonessential information is removed, and the commander and staff can wrestle with the factors that are critical to winning on the battlefield.

Reduce physical size. To survive, the future CP must be small and agile. It should contain only those personnel and supporting vehicles necessary to support combat functions. Being small increases the CP's survivability through increased mobility. A small physical footprint increases the enemy's difficulty in distinguishing between a division CP and a lower-priority CP. A division-level main CP can conceivably consist of four to six vehicles. Digital capabilities allow the CP to electronically collocate and conduct operations on the move without degrading efficiency. By reducing its physical size, the CP leverages the advantages of increased mobility, increased survivability, and mobile operations. Developers should analyze the efficiency of roles and functions of major subordinate command support or slice elements in current FSE or ADA facilities. These support elements are a throwback to World War II and the Cold War when communications were less efficient and commanders required a BOS subject matter expert close by for employment advice.

The CP's physical size and complexity contribute to the CP's electronic footprint. The 21st-century CP will be vulnerable to targeting by enemy electronic and information operations capabilities. The January 2000 version of the new interim brigade combat team brigade main TOC alone identifies more than 75 separate vehicles. Assume that each vehicle has one or more radios or electronic devices that are vulnerable to electronic targeting. CP designs must limit the electronic emissions of dig-ital and analog equipment. Electronic collocation will significantly reduce battlefield electronic footprints and thus increase survivability. Reducing CP size requires determining the physical location of personnel supporting C2 architectures. G1 and G4 functions are easily performed from the rear, so why do those staff members need to be forward?

Leverage digitization. In the midst of creating tactical internets, client servers, local area networks, applique, and Army Battle Command System initiatives, it is difficult to know how to dominate a battlefield using technologically provided knowledge. Digital equipment can provide real-time, merged information for the commander in a clear, uncluttered common operating picture (COP). An absence of current digital capability is no reason to discard an idea. Establishing such a requirement will hasten that equipment's development. Digital equipment pushes baseline data to the commander at the appropriate echelon, but at the same time, it allows the commander to pull additional data about subordinate, adjacent, and higher units, as required. Combined with other parameters, digitization improves overall operational efficiency. Digitization, if developed from a functional basis, can give the commander a clearer, quicker, more complete picture of a tactical situation through a properly designed COP. The reachback concept is an example of using digitization to reduce the number of sustainment organizations in emerging transformation unit designs. Reachback-capable units rely on the push-pull concept of logistics support from a logistics base in theater or within the continental United States. This is also a large portion of transforming the intelligence concept.

A Radical Design Concept

Using the design paradigm and parameters described earlier, future CP designs are more effective than current designs. The C2 functions of personnel, logistics, intelligence, and operations will provide effective control on the battlefield. These staff elements, residing in combat CPs, have served the Army well in all previous wars. There is no reason to doubt that whatever their genesis, these core functions are on target. Each of these battle staff elements includes a baseline set of information requirements that support the commander's situational awareness and decisionmaking ability.

Why not begin the design process by eliminating all staff elements from a CP except operations, personnel, intelligence, and logistics? We use these functions to identify the baseline commander's critical information requirements (CCIR) and then develop the CP concept around them. To lessen the impact of semantics on our thinking, the new CP is a battle operations center (BOC). This way, no one visualizes previous CPs, and minds are clear of experiential perceptions.



Figure 1 represents a conceptual integrated division-level BOC. This design uses electronic collocation to eliminate the main, rear, and TAC CPs and any accompanying duplication of effort. All supporting functions—engineer, aviation, FSE, and ADA—are returned to their proponent CPs. For example, the division engineer now supports the BOC with critical engineer information from the mobility center. With digitization, the BOC commander or his command group can get the same data directly from the engineer brigade quicker and more efficiently than the division engineer cell could. Removing the division engineer cell removes another roadblock to effective, efficient communications. The mobility center would be the center of engineer C2 functions anchored by the senior supporting engineer unit.

Moving proponent and branch functions back to their parent CPs has several positive effects. First, it reduces the number of personnel and equipment at the division BOC, thus reducing its size and increasing mobility and survivability. Second, still using the engineer example, it reduces the number of personnel on the engineer brigade's modified table of organization and equipment as organic staff initially generated the information requirements. There is no longer a requirement for a division engineer cell. This same analogy pertains to all supporting proponent functions and has the same positive cumulative effects. This does not mean that, given a special mission or situation, an engineer or other element could not plug into the division BOC. The plug-in would only be temporary, and once the situation passed, the element would unplug and return to its primary C2 center.

In the end, every aspect of the C2 system is focused on enhancing the commander's ability to see the terrain at every level; to see the enemy; to see himself; to employ combat power with precision; and to visualize how to employ his forces against the enemy at the time and place he chooses. In the final analysis, all combat actions, requirements, and initiatives apply to one or more processes or functions a unit CP requires somewhere on the battlefield.

In this concept, each piece of mission-specific information travels manually or digitally to the operations, intelligence, logistics, and/or personnel functions in the BOC. The staff manning these functions coordinates, integrates, and synchronizes current and future operations requirements. All intelligence information requirements enter the BOC through the G2 or intelligence cell communications devices. The G2 filters the information to only what information the commander thinks applies to current or future tactical decisions by updating the com-mander's COP. These staff elements filter information to reduce the information quantity and complexity that the commander receives.

Pushing up baseline information requirements to the BOC reduces clutter and frees the commander and his staff to analyze critical information. The BOS functions that formerly collocated with the maneuver or command BOC return to being function-specific BOCs in their own right. The Airspace Control Center, for example, can consist of both the aviation brigade and ADA battalion BOCs because deconflicting airspace is critical. These elements do not have to be collocated at the main supported BOC to communicate with it. Critical baseline information requirements must be determined for each center to establish standing operating procedures (SOPs) and reporting protocols.

This design also allows increased redundancy and data duplication so that servers at other centers store all information, allowing a unit to quickly assume the functions of a destroyed cell. It improves survivability by dispersing CPs with similar electronic signatures. Overall, this design will reduce the size and complexity of all CPs. The centers can support operations from home station, on the ground in theater, or from ships. The electronic collocation capability provides the flexibility to respond to unforeseen situations.



The nerve center of this concept is the division BOC. Operationally, the BOC is a redesigned division main CP. The BOC receives all CCIR that are generated on the battlefield. Figure 2 represents a conceptual design of a division BOC. This design can also be applied to corps, brigades, or battalions. Without the proponent elements and their accompanying support, the BOC can reduce its size, potentially operating more efficiently with increased survivability. The BOC employs a modular concept with an easy plug-in and plug-out capability for organic and task-organized units to support situational requirements.

All BOC equipment is permanently mounted in high-mobility, multipurpose wheeled vehicles or designated CP vehicles to enhance deployability, sustainability, and survivability. In a committed environment, operators and battle captains function from within the vehicle shelter. There is no requirement to erect external shelters during tactical operations. CCIR feed directly into each element's COP. The vehicle's driver is prepared to move out of the CP location to a rally point at a moment's notice if the BOC is attacked. Time is not a factor because there is no requirement to load or pack equipment before movement. Tents or other shelters are left in place because, realistically, in combat, they are not important compared to the survival of the unit's C2 capability. CP personnel operate communications equipment remotely from the vehicle when uncommitted.

Establish a C2 University

Our goal is to speed up the requirements determination process while at the same time improving its products. We must find smarter ways to do business, streamline our management processes…and use what we have more effectively in order to become more effective.

—General Dennis J. Reimer

Chief of Staff, U.S. Army

Implementing this concept will require a facility in which testing each concept ensures complete integration across the force. Equally important is developing training packages to support the new concepts. The U.S. Army Combined Arms Center (CAC) is postured to take the lead in developing and coordinating an innovative C2 development strategy that supports warfighter C2 requirements as well as future force CP developments. CAC should establish a C2 university to support Armywide C2 research, design, and training. The university could become the Nation's preeminent C2 training facility and showcase learning, training, and creative CP design endeavors at all Army echelons as well as joint services and combined operations.

Embedded in the C2 university structure is a CP skunkworks—a national laboratory for integrating innovative C2 concepts, operating procedures, and training packages. In a skunkworks environment, design engineers are free to pursue concepts without pressure from special interest groups. The skunkworks would serve as the CP operations clearing house in which CAC would be responsible for designing and testing all battalion through echelon above corps CPs and approving all new CP equipment. This responsibility would include developing and testing CP processes and SOPs. Each CP undergoes rigorous classified and unclassified operational testing before its design goes into full-scale production for fielding. CAC has the resident civilian and military work force to battle roster staff assignments with civilians, permanent-party staff, and Command and General Staff College instructors and students to establish functional consistency during testing. Testing new equipment at the skunkworks ensures that it fully supports emerging processes and is compatible with systems currently being used.

Equally important, however, is the ability to support the developing CP training programs. Using the Boeing 747 analogy, when an airline buys a new airplane, Boeing provides qualification training for the pilots and maintenance personnel, and a complete support and training package to the organization buying the aircraft. The Army should follow this model when fielding new CPs. New CP equipment would be sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, directly from the factory production line. At Fort Leavenworth, qualified skunkworks personnel would thoroughly inspect the new CP equipment to ensure that all systems operate according to specifications. The unit CP personnel would then receive their new equipment and participate in a rigorous 2-week Battle Command Training Program warfighter-type training exercise. Successful completion of this training would result in a CAC competency certificate. Once certified, the unit would sign for its equipment and transport it back to home station.

Army aviation used a variation of this concept to field AH-64s to aviation battalions stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. The C2 university could provide initial and refresher training in CP procedures to new commanders and staffs. Each unit would leave Fort Leavenworth fully trained on proven CP processes and procedures on fielded CP equipment. Through this concept, CAC would establish and maintain a consistency of C2 operations throughout the Army and effectively raise the bar for CP operations.

Each TRADOC school and center can establish the same model for its proponent CPs. For example, Fort Rucker, Alabama, would establish a skunk-works for all aviation CPs. Each site could con-duct exercises through the World Wide Web. With CPs electronically collocated, real-world testing of complete systems can occur through standardized processes, developing each CP into an integrated whole. CAC would oversee all proponent school and center certification requirements. The Army can establish links among all proponent battle labs to develop and standardize CPs for like forces. The Armor Center would manage heavy forces, the Infantry Center would manage light forces, Fort Rucker would manage aviation, and so on.

By identifying and harnessing promising technology, we can pass critical, time-sensitive information to the Warfighter TOC to assist battle command. Battle command is the cornerstone BOS and is critical to coordinating, synchronizing, and integrating available assets on a fast-paced battlefield. The past is truly the prologue to the future in increasing CP efficiency and effectiveness on the 21st-century battlefield.

Imaginations are the only limitations in the CP arena. The ideas presented in this article could prompt CAC to take the lead in designing new CPs. Baseline design parameters are the overarching factor for new CP design and development processes. A C2 university could provide a controlled test-bed for managing change and a methodology for analyzing Force XXI C2 issues and developing integrated force-level solutions. A skunkworks development and experimentation facility concept could give the Army an institutionalized end-to-end functional design and training capability. The concept could enable the Army to develop and export a total package of proven and integrated system of systems C2 tactics, techniques, and procedures and CP designs within a controlled, developmental environment. It could allow the Army to identify any C2 operational problem areas, both known and unknown, by applying a process reengineering methodology.

The CP is the critical component for applying innovation, and as such, it is simultaneously the area of greatest potential payoff and potential vulnerability. CP operations can ensure success when conducted well or result in failure if conducted poorly. MR



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Lieutenant Colonel Jack Burkett, U.S. Army, Retired, is a program manager for TRW, Inc., Leavenworth, Kansas. He received a B.S. from the University of Tennessee and an M.S. from St. John's Univeristy and is a graduate of the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College (USACGSC). He previously served as chief, Division Doctrine Team, Combat Development Directorate, USACGSC, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas; instructor, Center for Army Tactics, USACGSC; and team chief, Small-Group Instruction, Fort Knox, Kentucky.

Sergeant Barry P. Platt, US Army

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Chimo

Officer of Engineers

ARMY Magazine

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Leadership in Five Seconds
May 2004


By Maj. Gen. Guy S. Meloy, U.S. Army Retired


It was September 1955 and a very hot day, especially for Germany. The 3rd Battalion, 86th Infantry Regiment stationed in Schweinfurt was in the second day of a three-day Army Training Test (ATT) at the Grafenwohr Training Area. Umpires seemed to be standing behind every other tree, and the troops, most of them draftees, were trying hard to "play the game."

The ATT, the precursor to a series of evolving unit evaluation programs, had been around since World War II. It finitely tested a unit’s individual and collective administrative, logistics, operational and tactical functions by using numerical scores. By the end of three days and nights, for example, one battalion might score 91.6, while its sister units might score "only" 89.8 and maybe a 90.2. The unit with the highest score was considered the best unit, hence had bragging rights until the next ATT. Unfortunately, what made this system even more lopsided was that oftentimes a commander’s efficiency report reflected his unit’s ATT scores, thus adding an unnecessary dose of artificial stress within the chain of command. This is sort of silly, looking back on it, which is why some smart people at Training and Doctrine Command changed from testing to the nearest tenth of a decimal point to a more realistic and useful evaluation system.

On this day, however, the ATT still ruled and 3-86 had just started to prepare its positions for "defense against daylight attack." I was a first lieutenant and the battalion’s assistant S-3. Shortly after we established the battalion command post (tactical operations centers had not been invented yet), the S-3 asked me to walk the line to see if the company commanders had everything they needed. I arrived at King Company’s position just as Sgt. Steve Mulkey, an enormous soldier who was the platoon sergeant of Mike Company’s heavy machine-gun platoon, reported to the company commander with a section of two M1917A1 .30-caliber water-cooled heavy machine guns. The section had been assigned to support King Company, and Mulkey and the company commander, a veteran of both World War II and the Korean War, were discussing the best positions to emplace the heavies to support the defense.

The heavy machine-gun crews were tired, sweaty and starting to look a tad restless. I did not blame them. The heavy machine gun, with its water-filled jacket around the barrel and heavy tripod for stability, weighed 93 pounds--and that is not counting the weight of the ammo. The tripod itself weighed 53 pounds, and the weight of the gun, even without water, was 33 pounds (with water, add almost nine more pounds). It was primarily a defensive or supporting weapon because, given its weight, it was not practical in fluid combat or as an assault weapon. Hauling it around was no easy task, and Mulkey’s crews were anxious to start digging it in.

King Company had six M1919A6 light machine guns that were already emplaced. The question now was where to employ the heavy machine guns to best support and reinforce the light machine guns and strengthen King Company’s defense. After walking the line from left to right and back, and even moving out in front of the forward edge of the battle area, and several more minutes of discussing the pros and cons of several options, Mulkey and the company commander agreed to emplace one machine gun at position A and the other at position B.

Mulkey personally took each crew to their assigned position, explained the primary direction of fire and the left and right limits, pointed out the location of adjacent riflemen and the nearest light machine guns, and told his men, "Dig here." Playing the game, they immediately started digging a field manual version of a machine-gun position, which was shaped like a square horseshoe with the machine gun placed in the center of the horseshoe. There was one problem, though. The clay-like ground was saturated with granite rocks the size of baseballs, so digging in was not as simple as the fellows who wrote the book made it out to be. It was hard work made even harder by the fact that the troops had only their entrenching tools to dig with; it was hot and steamy, and they were already tired. To their credit, they were playing the game--no grumbling, no gripes, one soldier manning the gun and another acting as security or lookout as the book specified, and two digging around rocks and into the clay, sweat streaming down their foreheads.

The hole was perhaps a third of the way completed when the battalion commander came by. He called the company commander over to position A and asked why that position had been selected when "obviously that position over there (about 25 feet away) is a much better location." After a few minutes of what was clearly a one-sided discussion, the company commander directed the heavy machine-gun crew to "move over there." If looks could have killed, every officer within about a 50-foot radius would have dropped dead on the spot.

With umpires in every direction, however, the troops played the game. Without a word, they picked up the 93-pound gun and all their gear, carried it to position A1, and immediately started digging a new hole. The afternoon wore on. It got hotter. The same kind of rocks and clay-like soil at Position A1 made digging just as hard there as it was at the original position. All you heard were grunts of effort uttered after each swing of the entrenching tools. Slowly but surely, the A1 foxhole began to take shape.

The A1 machine-gun position was more than half way completed when (you guessed it) the regimental commander came by. "Why are they in this position A1 when it’s obvious that position A is by far the best possible location?" Another rather one-sided discussion and another move--back to position A. Frustrated and by this time understandably upset, the troops, still trying to play the game, picked up their 93-pound heavy machine gun and all their gear, and started swinging away again at their original position. Soldiers from King Company shared their water (the diggers had emptied their canteens long ago at A1), but the machine-gun crew, by this time exhausted and questioning, I’m sure, the common sense of their chain of command, was in no mood for a reenlistment talk.

A few minutes later, a light observation helicopter carrying Brig. Gen. Stanley R. (Swede) Larsen, the assistant division commander of the 10th Infantry Division, landed in a field behind King Company. The regimental commander greeted him; the company commander greeted him, and I quietly got out of the line of fire. The heavy machine-gun crew never so much as glanced his way. Gen. Larsen had been assigned to the division only a few days earlier, so this was actually the first time many of us had seen him up close. All we knew about him was that he was a highly decorated World War II battalion and regimental commander, had commanded a regiment in the 82nd Airborne and had plenty of troop duty.

He asked a few questions, was briefed by the company commander and started walking the forward edge of the battle area, beginning at the end farthest from position A. I tiptoed along, staying as far out of the way as trees and bushes permitted and watched Swede Larsen in action. He stopped at every position, got down on one knee and talked with every soldier. Mostly his questions dealt with the who-what-where-when-why-how. Why are you in this position? What is good about it? What is not good? What can you do to make it better? Who is on your left and right? How do you know when to start or stop shooting? What is the challenge and password? Where is the platoon leader’s position? Where is the company command post? What is your primary direction of fire? Where are the machine guns located and how much ammo do you have? In other words, he was genuinely interested in learning if the soldier did or did not know what he was supposed to be doing, how to do it and why he was doing it.

Finally, we arrived at position A where by this time the most exasperated and thoroughly frustrated soldiers in probably the entire division were still swinging through clay and rock, and to their credit, still trying to play the game.

When Swede Larsen, the regimental commander, the company commander, a platoon leader and the general’s aide walked up to A, the soldiers digging the position never even looked up or stopped swinging their by now mostly bent and dented entrenching tools. Larsen stood watching for several seconds and finally, leaning as far forward as he could without losing his head to an errant entrenching tool, started innocently to ask the same questions he had been asking every soldier along the line. "Soldier, would you please tell me why you put the machine gun in this location?"

Hearing that, the squad leader jerked up and in one, continuous motion threw his entrenching tool about 30 feet, yanked off his helmet and slammed it down so hard the steel pot separated from the liner and bounced about five feet straight in the air, put his hands on his hips, glared at Larsen and in a voice that could be heard all the way to range control demanded, "Okay, general, just where in the f--- do you want it?"

It got very, very quiet, awfully fast. Even the birds stopped chirping. Soldiers in nearby positions ducked down into the bottom of their foxholes. I thought the regimental commander was going to expire on the spot. The company commander looked as if he was going to lose his lunch. The platoon leader, suddenly remembering he had something more important to do, turned and vanished. The aide’s jaw dropped to about his belt buckle. I fell to my knees thanking the good Lord that I was only an obscure staff officer, an innocent lieutenant, and not Sgt. Mulkey or the commander of Mike Company who, being a good friend, I was going to miss.

The only person who never flinched or even seemed surprised was Swede Larsen. For a few moments, he and the squad leader stood looking at each other--the squad leader, who I suppose figured he was headed to Leavenworth anyhow, refusing to back down--neither saying a word. You could almost see the wheels turning in Gen. Larsen’s mind, though, and they were obviously the wheels of a soldier who knew soldiers. After no more than five seconds, I witnessed one of the finest demonstrations of leadership I was ever privileged to see. Gen. Larsen slowly reached out, placed his hand on the trooper’s shoulder and in a quiet voice said, "Soldier, I’m sorry I asked."

As I listened later to Swede Larsen tell the regimental commander, "That soldier knows what he’s doing, and he’s obviously been working hard to do it right. I don’t think we need to worry about what he said, do you?" I discovered what real leadership was all about--no platitudes, no graduate school rules of dos and don’ts, just a ton of common sense, a genuine empathy for human beings and an understanding of soldiers that can only be gained by soldiering.

More than 40 years later I ran into Swede Larsen at a Fifth Army conference at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, and mentioned this incident. He told me he had only a vague recollection of it, but said he was not at all surprised by his reaction. "If you liked soldiers and liked being a soldier, it wasn’t hard to put yourself in other soldiers’ shoes. If I had been that fellow, I might have said the same thing he did. That was not his fault. That was the fault of his commanders, so how could I blame him?"

On that long ago afternoon in 1955, Swede Larsen showed me why it is so important for the Army to send every new lieutenant to troop duty and even more important to keep him or her with troops long enough to develop not just an appreciation for what makes soldiers tick, but an intuitive sense for what is going on "below the decks."

Just as you cannot learn to swim through a correspondence course, you cannot know soldiers and soldiering from a textbook.
As much as they help, you do not learn that from leadership manuals either. You gain soldiering intuition by sleeping on the ground, in the winter, when it’s raining, and taking turns with your radio-telephone operator on radio watch.

You learn it by leading your platoon at night on long forced marches over terrain you have never seen before. You understand it after trying to assemble your unit with the wrong maps after landing on the wrong landing zone or drop zone at night. You appreciate it after shoveling snow out of rifle-range pits so your company can zero weapons in January.

You begin to realize it after being last in the chow line when the cooks run out of food, by helping a young trooper on the verge of being tossed out of the Army shape up and someday get promoted, working with your crew to replace a thrown track at 0200 in a snowstorm and conducting artillery hip-shoots when you know where you are but are not sure you ought to be there.

Few opportunities reinforce intuition better than drinking a lot of coffee with a lot of wise NCOs and being smart enough to take notes on what they tell you.

In my book, Swede Larsen was clearly one of the best. Why? Mainly I think because even though he eventually wore three stars, he was still fundamentally a soldier who liked other soldiers, thought like a soldier and genuinely liked soldiering. He knew soldiers, knew intuitively what they thought, knew how they would react to various situations and, unlike so many others, understood when--and why--good soldiers might sometimes sound insubordinate, but were not.

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MAJ. GEN. GUY S. MELOY, USA Ret., wore the green shoulder tabs of a troop leader at every consecutive rank, commanding four platoons, three companies, two battalions in Vietnam and a brigade. He was an assistant division commander and commander of the 82nd Airborne Division.

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Copyright © 1999 - 2004 by The Association of the U.S. Army Back

Officer of Engineers

Casualty Budgets: applications to both military planning and commercial wargaming.
by
Matthew Caffrey, Lt Col, USAFR
John Tiller, Ph. D., HPS Simulations

"It was crucial that casualties should be kept to a minimum if final victory was to be seen worth the purchase"

The Battle for the Falklands, Hastings and Jenkins, 1983, p. 184.

In military history, there have been similar circumstances arise at very different times. For example, when Lee encountered Union forces on the first day of Gettysburg, he hesitated, not sure if he should commit his army to this particular battle. At Normandy, during the early days of the World War II invasion, the Allies hesitated, not sure if they should advance with more risks or take a more cautious approach to their campaign. At Borodino, during Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812, he failed to commit his entire army to the battle, unsure if he could "afford" the resulting casualties. In more modern times, it is interesting to compare the Vietnam War battles of Ia Drang and Hamburger Hill, one occurring during the early years of the American involvement, and considered a victory for the doctrine of airborne assault, with the second occurring during the later years of the war, and considered a terrible defeat, although tactically it accomplished the destruction of an NVA regiment.

The questions that arise from these situations are twofold:

How do we understand how to estimate eventual victory or defeat outcomes in such a way that transcends strictly attrition factors.

How do we implement military caution in artificial environments such as commercial wargames.

While the first question concerns primarily serving military strategists while the other is the concern of the recreational wargamer/civilian strategist the approach presented here actually addresses both of these issues. The concept of Casualty Budgets is based on the following:

In military situations, the participants are often constrained or influenced by the potential or actual casualties of the current situation in a way that transcends a pure military analysis of the situation.

This concept can be illustrated using the previous examples:

When Lee first arrived on the Gettysburg battlefield, he was forced to make decisions in a very uncertain situation. Although he appeared to hold the advantage at the time, there were too many unknowns about the situation for him to be able to commit his forces with certainty. Thus, for a long period during the first day of the battle of Gettysburg, Lee's forces waited for reinforcements before advancing.

After the initial success of the Normandy landings, the British forces actually withdrew from their furthest advance at the end of the first day, despite the fact that they were largely unopposed at that point. Likewise, the entire course of the Normandy campaign is made up of short periods of offensive activity followed by periods of inactivity, despite many weaknesses in the German position, in a way that goes far beyond mere logistical concerns at the time. The entire campaign was conducted in a very measured and paced manner despite the result that the Germans were able to prolong the fighting in the Normandy hedgerow.
Napoleon failed to deliver a knock-out blow at Borodino and consequently failed to conquer the Russians. He had additional uncommitted forces at Borodino, notably the Imperial Guard, but was uncertain whether he should commit them in that battle. On a purely military basis, he could have decided that the commitment of his entire force might yield a decisive result, but the uncertainty he found himself under compelled him to save a significant portion of his force for a later battle that never happened.

The casualties suffered by the American forces at the battles of Ia Drang and Hamburger Hill in Vietnam cannot be compared in an abstract numerical manner. If you did, you might conclude that both of these battles were significant victories for the Americans in terms of the corresponding losses suffered by the NVA. However, historically we view the first of these as a heroic battle demonstrating the new tactic of airborne assault, while the second is viewed as a senseless shedding of blood to no good purpose.

In each case, the concept of Casualty Budgets illustrates the basis for these situations and the decisions associated with them by introducing a concept that transcends the numerical victory/loss accounting that is normally done. In the case of Lee at Gettysburg, he was not in a position to commit his force to a substantial battle just on the basis of the initial clash that first day. By the third day, when it was clear that this battle would significantly determine the outcome of the war, he was prepared to commit his last remaining reserves in an all-or-nothing charge, something that just wasn't justified until then. At Normandy, the Allies and particularly the British were under significant political pressure to avoid what might be viewed as horrendous and unacceptable losses during the campaign. Although the total number of casualties suffered in the historical Normandy campaign was quite large, they were incurred over the course of the campaign and in such a way that they did not occur in such high numbers at any one time so as to invoke a serious political backlash as a result. Likewise, although Napoleon would in the end lose almost all of his force in the campaign, at the time of Borodino the situation was too early and uncertain for him to commit all of his forces to a decisive conclusion. He was compelled by his caution to hold back a certain portion of his force for later eventualities.

And finally, during the Vietnam war, the Americans operating under a very significant casualty budget, one that was eventually used up, so that earlier battles such as Ia Drang can be viewed as success at the time, while later battles such as Hamburger Hill are viewed as defeats. Tactically the North Vietnamese understood they had a casualty budget and managed it well. They knew they would suffer heavy casualties with American units so they tended to initiate sharp engagements when they were fresh, then break those engagements off as they started to seriously loose combat effectiveness. They would then take the time they needed to rest and refit, often a month, before they would initiate another engagement.

Casualty budgets are a relevant concept at all levels of war. Said another way, they need to be the concern of platoon leaders and presidents. Military professionals should be aware of the consequences of Casualty Budgets and work with our civilian leaders to determine what our casualty budget would be for any operation - before forces are committed. Then they should estimate how many casualties would be incurred achieving the operation's objective. If the estimates show it is unlikely we can achieve our objectives within our casualty budget then it unlikely we can achieve our objectives at all. When the budget is exceeded the American people, then elected officials will begin to limit the President's options. In such a case it may be better not to engage at all.

The concept of Casualty Budgets serves a particularly useful role in commercial wargaming as well as it goes a long way towards resolving the fundamental problem of reproducing caution. Experience has shown that the typical person placed in the context of a wargame will show very little if any feeling towards caution in that situation and will commit forces and take risks far beyond anything that could reasonably have occurred in the historical situation. Indeed, in commercial wargames of the Battle of Gettysburg, typically you find the fighting continuing unabated through the first day, all through the first night, and with the consequence that the entire battle is finished in about half the historical duration. The situation is likewise in commercial wargames of Borodino or any other battle, that there is little or no reason for the player to hold back or exhibit any type of caution in their approach. There simply isn't any good way of representing the risk that existed in the historical situation, and so the notion of Casualty Budget becomes a very useful way of "legislating caution".

When Casualty Budgets are implemented in a commercial wargame through a scoring mechanism, they compel the player to proceed at a more measured pace and conserve their forces in such a way as to avoid exceeding their budget at any given time. This approach is most appropriate at the tactical or operational level. Casualty Budgets used in this context can be both Fixed and Variable. When they are Fixed, then the player has a single value against which they must manage their forces. This would be appropriate for the Battle of Borodino for example where the player must understand that once their Casualty Budget is exceeded, the outcome of the conflict goes against them as a result. When the budget is Variable, then the player begins with a certain amount of Casualty Budget which is then increased over time according to some preset determined rate. This would be particularly appropriate for the Normandy campaign for example where the Allied player must pace his offensive activities to work within the constraints of the budget even though his total casualties might end up being large in comparison. Likewise, when used for the Battle of Gettysburg, it would compel the Confederate player to take a less drastic approach, particularly in the first day, as they would be constrained by a casualty budget that only by the third day allowed them the kind of casualties they would otherwise accept much earlier. In detail then, with a given Casualty Budget of X in effect for a given game turn, if the player exceeded their budget by having casualties of Y, then the excess Y - X in victory points would be subtracted from their overall victory determination. This would be done on a per-turn basis motivating the player to manage their budget accordingly. While it does not prevent the player from exceeding their Casualty Budget, it penalizes them for doing so and thus provides some balance to an otherwise unrealistic situation.

While penalizing players with victory points may be a good idea at the tactical or operational level, the best way to implement casualty budgets in strategic wargames will usually be to depict the consequences of exceeding the budget. In general the consequence is to limit the players options. Let's use logistics as an analogy. When a unit has a lot of logistics it can attach, defend, withdraw and of course it could always surrender. As its use of logistics exceeds its resupply it first will not be able to attack, then it won't be able to defend, then it won't be able to withdraw. In time its ONLY option will be to surrender. As a units exceeds it casualty budget it first will not be able to attack, then it won't be able to defend, then it won't be able to withdraw. In time its ONLY option will be to surrender. A similar limiting of options occurs on the national level. Take Vietnam as an example. As our casualty budget was exceeded the President could no longer send in more troops. Then he could not reduce our rate of withdraw.

It should be appreciated that at the strategic level, casualty budgets always vary with enemy actions, our actions, time etc., although for tactical and operational wargame purposes they can be considered being fixed for the duration of the action. One example of the variableness of the budget - our greatest victory at Gettysburg may have been the address by Mr. Lincoln. His few brief remarks significantly increased the government's casualty budget for the war and avoided a premature settlement.

Finally, in the context of military planning, it would be very significant for planners to take into account their perceived Casualty Budget in much the same way as they account for all other manner of military resources such as tanks, ammo, and artillery. Running out of Casualty Budget in a particular conflict can be just as damaging to the effort as it would be to run out of these other resources. Thus the military planner, and the military commander later on, must be sensitive to their allocation of Casualty Budget in a given situation and their expenses relative to that. In a very significant way, Casualty Budgets can very much be the basis for the classical "Win the battle, lose the war" outcome that we attempt to avoid. Or as a member of Parliament put it, "Another Such Victory".

"Another such victory would ruin the British army"

Charles James Fox, British Parliament, after the Battle of Guilford Courthouse.

Officer of Engineers

washingtonpost.com
Boeing Bets on 'Net-Centric' Warfare



The Associated Press
Tuesday, July 6, 2004; 11:25 AM


TACOMA, Wash. -- The Boeing Co. hopes to be a big player in "net-centric" warfare, launched two years ago when a Special Forces operative used a hand-held global-positioning device and a laptop to guide B-52 strikes against terrorist positions in Afghanistan.

"Net-centric operations" allow ground forces to communicate through a computer web with airborne and other units. The technology enables front-line troops and commanders in the rear to get a true picture of the battlefield and shortens response time.

Boeing recently offered reporters access to a usually classified facility in suburban Virginia, where the company offered a 90-minute demonstration, The News Tribune of Tacoma, Wash., reported Monday.

In the series of simulated exercises, aircraft - F/A-18s, F-15s, EA-18s, unmanned aerial vehicles, command-and-control planes, tilt-motor V-22s, Apache and CH-47 helicopters - ground commanders, ship-borne commanders and others were linked for simulated attacks, defense against attacks and extraction of troops caught behind enemy lines.

"The capabilities are mind-boggling," said Jim Albaugh, who heads Boeing's Integrated Defense Systems program.

"For many years it used to be about force. Now, it's all about networks - who can see first, who can react first," he said.

Chicago-based Boeing has invested $500 million to develop net-centric technology and the Pentagon is committed to a 21st-century fighting force. But there are skeptics.

"It's a fine idea," said Loren Thompson, a defense analyst with the Lexington Institute in Arlington, Va. "But will it work? The jury is still out."

Thompson said the idea was an outgrowth of the dot-com boom of the early 1990s, and might have deflated like the boom itself.

"You could say we are getting ready to fight a dot-com war at a time when the enemy is more conventional," he said. "It seems better suited to fighting countries rather than guerrillas. If we were fighting the USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), it might be effective."

In theory, Thompson said, net-centric operations can apply to any threat, from conventional warfare to terrorism. But he said results in Iraq, where insurgents strike without warning, have been "ambiguous."

Other analysts agree.

"I'm not sure anyone knows where we are headed," said Chris Hellman, with the Center for Arms Control and Non-Proliferation in Washington, D.C.

Hellman said net-centric operations offer commanders potential for a "situational awareness" previously out of reach. The system can serve as a "force multiplier" that allows commanders to focus the firepower of even a small contingent of troops.

"They could face data overload," he said. "How much information is enough, how much is too much?"

Boeing acknowledges current limitations.

"What you saw in Iraqi Freedom combined with Afghanistan was the first net-centric warfare," said Carl O'Berry, a vice president of Boeing's defense team. "But it wasn't robust enough. There were weaknesses."

Company officials have estimated the market for net-centric systems could reach $200 billion over the next 10 years, for communications networks, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance projects, command-and-control integration and systems to provide global situational awareness.

Boeing and another company won a $15 billion contract last year for a program that will further improve the ability of soldiers on the ground to communicate with aircraft. This year, Boeing won a contract to develop new combat systems for the Army that could be worth $4 billion over five years.

Every Boeing-produced fighter jet, command-and-control plane, helicopter, unmanned vehicle or other craft, including the Navy's new multimission aircraft, will be equipped to link with net-centric operations, Albaugh said.

Boeing has been struggling with ethics issues recently in its dealings with the Pentagon, but Albaugh noted earlier this summer that the company has won tens of billions of dollars in new defense orders despite the scandals.


© 2004 The Associated Press

Officer of Engineers

Combined Arms Center
Military Review
Military Review JULY-AUGUST 2004

ENGLISH EDITION

Index

Doctrine

2 Center of Gravity Analysis
Colonel Dale C. Eikmeier, U.S. Army

Why are centers of gravity so difficult to identify or define? The Armed Forces have suffered from years of conflicting definitions. Not until 1997 did the services agree to the current joint definition.

6 The Recognition-Primed Decision Model
Karol G. Ross, Ph.D.; Gary A. Klein, Ph.D.; Peter Thunholm, Ph.D.; John F. Schmitt; and Holly C. Baxter, Ph.D.

The Army currently depends on a cumbersome military decisionmaking process. To take full advantage of new capabilities, the Army needs a new, more flexible process.

11 Gettysburg's "Decisive Battle"
Major Thomas Goss, U.S. Army, Ph.D.

The Battle of Gettysburg, when examined for decisions made and results gained, functions as a springboard to address the link between decision and the battlefield.

17 Finesse: A Short Theory of War
Major Michael Forsyth, U.S. Army

In finesse, the focus of military operations might not be on the use of military force. Information operations or a civil-military effort could take precedence.

20 True Battlefield Visibility
Commander Norman R. Denny, U.S. Naval Reserve

The U.S. military is striving to integrate new technology onto the battlefield. One promised improvement would reduce the fog of war through the use of digital communications and unmanned aerial vehicles.

22 Understanding Fear's Effect on Unit Effectiveness
Major Gregory A. Daddis, U.S. Army

Adversaries will continue to use fear as a weapon, especially in asymmetrical warfare, so it is prudent to reexamine fear's effect on unit effectiveness.

Jointness

28 Understanding the Standing Joint Force Headquarters
Colonel Douglas K. Zimmerman, U.S. Army

USJFCOM is developing a joint development and experimentation strategy along two paths: a concept development path and a prototype path.

33 Joint Concept Development at Joint Forces Command
Jeffrey J. Becker, Military Analyst

Rapid change, uncertainty, and the catastrophic consequences of failure mean that the U.S. does not have the luxury of extended and complex development time lines to construct new military capabilities. Military forces must be intellectually and programmatically agile enough to adapt to change faster than our adversaries can.

39 What is Joint Interdependence Anyway?
Colonel Christopher R. Paparone, U.S. Army, and James A. Crupi, Ph.D.

The future of jointness is interdependence, with all services relying on each other's capabilities to be successful. Paparone and Crupi are not satisfied with this vision. Military leaders might miss associated leadership and organizational implications.

42 Something Old, Something New: Guerrillas, Terrorists, and Intelligence Analysis
Lieutenant Colonel Lester W. Grau, U.S. Army, Retired

The Taliban, which cannot match Western coalition forces in technology or conventional combat, has reverted to terrorism and guerrilla warfare, with al-Qaeda assuming an advisory and training role.

50 Will We Need a Space Force?
Major Richard D. Moorhead, U.S. Army

Will space forces become a new armed force on a new battlefield? Opponents claim no combat space mission justifies a separate force. They are correct now, but will that change in the future?

54 Sea-Basing and the Maritime Pre-positioning Force (Future)
Major Henry B. Cook, U.S. Army National Guard

The intent of sea-based operations is to use the flexibility and protection of the sea base to minimize the Marine air-ground task force's presence ashore. The challenge lies in sea-basing's logistical sustainment and implementation.

Leadership

59 Raising the Ante on Building Teams
Colonel Steven M. Jones, U.S. Army

Warfighting readiness demands a synergy of effectively organized and trained soldiers, supported by appropriate, well-maintained equipment. Command climate provides the means to create this synergy and lies at the heart of readiness.

67 Toxic Leadership
Colonel George E. Reed, U.S. Army

In 2003, the U.S. Army War College examined how the Army could assess leaders to detect those with destructive leadership styles. The most important first step in detecting and treating toxic leadership is to recognize the symptoms.

72 Developing Lieutenants in a Transforming Army
Major Kenneth A. Romaine, U.S. Army

Leadership, a decisive factor on the battlefield, takes many forms. No one leadership style, action, or trait is universally effective for all situations. What, then, should be the focus of Army leader development?

81 Gas, Mud, and Blood at Ypres: The Painful Lessons of Chemical Warfare
Major Thomas S. Bundt, U.S. Army, Ph.D.

In 1915, the German Army introduced poison gas at the Second Battle of Ypres in an effort to break the stalemate across Flanders during World War I. A forgotten battlefield with significant lessons for the future, Ypres evokes one of the greatest fears in modern war—the use of chemical weapons.

83 The GI Bill: Recruiting Bonus, Retention Onus
Lieutenant Commander John B. White, U.S. Naval Reserve, Ph.D.

One of the most enduring pieces of legislation that emerged from World War II was the Servicemen's Readjustment Act of 1944, better known as the GI Bill, which has profoundly affected American society in the nearly 60 years that it has been in effect.

Almanac

86 Blitzkrieg in Retrospect
Lieutenant Colonel Samuel J. Newland, U.S. Army, Retired, Ph.D.

Insights

89 Fashioning a U.S.-Israeli Military Alliance
Edward Bernard Glick, Ph.D.

Review Essay

90 Guts and Glory: The American Military Image in Film
Major Jeffrey C. Alfier, U.S. Air Force

91 Islamic Militant Cells and Sadat's Assassination
Lieutenant Commander Youssef H. Aboul-Enein, U.S. Navy

95 Book Reviews contemporary readings for the professional


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Last Reviewed: July 09, 2004

Ray

Colonel,

Great stuff. Very appreciative.

Haven't heard from you on the Indian Militry Traditions and Cold Start on the BRF.

Keep the flow going!

__________________


"Some have learnt many Tricks of sly Evasion, Instead of Truth they use Equivocation, And eke it out with mental Reservation, Which is to good Men an Abomination."

I don't have to attend every argument I'm invited to.

HAKUNA MATATA

Officer of Engineers

Sir,

The BRF is somewhat of an effort. There are times I try extremely hard not to break out laughing. And everybody taking each other so seriously, especially when they don't know what they're talking about. Calvin congratulating YIP's article on Cold Start was hillarious to the extreme.

I like to share with you a tradition of ours - Regiment Day which is includes swaping of jobs (ie the Sgts doing the Officers' job and vice versa), a broomball game (hockey on ice with brooms and a ball) between officers and non-commissioned which usually ending up with the brooms hitting flesh and bone alot more than the ball, and a non-commission mess at the officer's mess with officers forbidden on the premises.

More per your request, Sir.



Overreliance on Technology
in Warfare: The Yom Kippur
War as a Case Study



ROBERT S. BOLIA


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From Parameters, Summer 2004, pp. 46-56.


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Modern military journals are replete with articles claiming that recent advancements in technology constitute a Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA). The authors of these articles claim that innovations in weapon systems—for example, the development of precision guided munitions—and the capacity to wage network-centric warfare are symptomatic of this RMA, and will afford the United States an unprecedented level of situational awareness and the ability to apply force rapidly, accurately, and precisely without fratricide or collateral civilian casualties.1 Should these prophets be believed?

One of the questions that is often sidestepped in these discussions is whether advancements in technology can fundamentally change the character of war. Classical theorists suggest that the essential nature of war is immutable, and as such one is able to derive from its study principles that commanders will always be able to use to guide the development of strategy and tactics.2

On the other hand, it is difficult to argue that technology has not been a factor in warfare. In 1298, for example, it was the English use of the longbow that broke the line of the Scots at Falkirk; the same technology was used to similar effect against the French at Crécy in 1346, at Poitiers in 1356, and at Agincourt in 1415. But had technology changed the nature of war? While the French suffered repeated defeats, the Scots learned their lesson at Falkirk, and when they fought the English again, just 16 years later at Bannockburn, they held a contingent of cavalry in reserve to attack the English archers as soon as they appeared. The archers broke and the English were routed.3

Clearly technology has been able to affect the outcome of individual battles, but can it change the nature of war? Italian theorist Giulio Douhet be-

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lieved that the invention of the airplane had done just that. Douhet, one of the fathers of strategic bombing, suggested several reasons for his belief: (1) with air power it is no longer necessary to break through the enemy’s front lines before attacking his rear; (2) air power can attack industrial and command and control sites in the rear of the enemy army, which can prevent him from adequately communicating with or resupplying his forces; and (3) air power allows for the indiscriminate bombing of civilians as well as soldiers. The first two points, though overstated by Douhet, are important, and have been implemented in nearly every war since the dawn of air power. But the third point is most interesting, not so much for its content but for the peculiar corollary Douhet draws from it: that the mere threat of aerial bombardment of civilian targets will cause governments to capitulate even before the commencement of hostilities, and in fact may bring about an end to warfare.4 Needless to say, this has not occurred.

There are two problems with Douhet’s interpretation. The first is that the invention of aircraft simply added another dimension in which combat may occur. The role of the air force in combat is the same as that of the army or the navy—the application of force to an enemy’s centers of gravity. The second is that Douhet overestimated the ability of strategic bombing to rapidly destroy the enemy’s ability to make war, and underestimated the capacity of civilian populations to endure aerial bombardment. Both of these points were noted during the Second World War, and in many wars since.

Proponents of network-centric warfare, like those of strategic bombing, claim that this new concept of operations will engender an RMA that will fundamentally change the nature of warfare. It too has its discontents, however. Thomas Barnett has enumerated seven reasons why network-centric warfare may not fulfill all of its promises, while Milan Vego has returned to the Clausewitzian argument that technology cannot change the character of war.5 More recently, my colleagues and I have analyzed examples from modern military history to derive five principles that should be applied before introducing technological solutions to problems of decisionmaking and command and control.6 These voices of caution are endorsed by a decade of research by cognitive psychologists on the negative consequences of human interaction with automated systems, including, but not limited to, complacency associated with overreliance on the automation.7

47/48

Despite these concerns, there is little doubt that technology solutions will continue to be promoted regardless of their potential to lead to negative outcomes. The purpose of the present article is to describe the consequences of overreliance on technologically advanced systems over the course of a single war. The Yom Kippur War was selected for this analysis for three primary reasons. First, it was brief. There are certainly more examples of the misuse of technology in longer wars, but their enumeration would take proportionally longer. Second, it was recent enough to have included a number of examples of technological advancements not present in the Six-Day War, fought just six years before. Finally, it represents the culmination of a series of five wars between Israel and her Arab neighbors fought over the course of a quarter of a century. All of the armies involved were experienced at the practice of warfare and were familiar with the terrain over which they were fighting. This facilitates the analysis by reducing the likelihood of inexperience or unfamiliarity with the battlefield creeping up as possible causes of failures.

The Yom Kippur War

The Yom Kippur War, also known as the October War or the Ramadan War, was launched at 2 o’clock on the afternoon 6 October 1973, when Egyptian infantry armed with anti-tank weapons crossed the Suez Canal and assaulted the Bar-Lev Line in the southwest.8 Simultaneously, on Israel’s north-eastern border, Syrian armor attacked Israeli positions all along the Golan Heights. The coordinated attack came as an almost complete surprise to Israel, which was very much unprepared for war.

On the Golan front, Syrian tanks penetrated nearly eight miles into Israeli territory over the course of two days before the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) were able to stabilize the battlefield and prepare to counterattack. By war’s end, Israeli forces had fought their way 15 miles beyond the so-called “Purple Line” that had divided the two nations before the outbreak of hostilities, beating off attacks by Iraqi and Jordanian armored forces along the way. In addition, the IDF destroyed some 1,400 enemy tanks and inflicted more than eight times as many casualties as it suffered.9

The result in the Sinai, while not so dramatic, was in many ways analogous. The Egyptians made a highly successful crossing of the Suez Canal along a broad front, enveloping most of the Israeli defensive positions. However, they failed to press their advantage, and the IDF not only counterattacked but also crossed the canal in force, leaving the Egyptian Third Army completely surrounded. While Egypt still retained positions on the east bank at the time of the cease-fire imposed by the United Nations, momentum had shifted Israel’s way, and from a military standpoint Israel was the clear victor.10

48/49

Yet despite Israel’s eventual military success, victory was not a certainty from the start. Israeli intelligence, due largely to overreliance on technology, had failed to predict the invasion in spite of the existence of a relatively complete situational picture. In terms of doctrine, the IDF relied far too heavily on both the use of armor and the assumption of air supremacy. Egypt and Syria