a mobilized year

I sat there with one of my men’s blood-soaked IBA (body armor) in my hands. It was the end of a long day and I was exhausted. Although, I had a very strange feeling come over me. It was the feeling of having a good day. A damn good day.

Earlier that day, I received a dreaded message. I was summoned to the TOC because of an emergency situation involving one of my crews. The three minute trip to the TOC seemed like an hour with all the thoughts racing through my head. When I got there, I found out that two of my soldiers were injured in an IED attack.

The TOC crew was doing what they do best in terms of managing crises situations. They were true professionals, on the ball, in control, forward-thinking, anticipating issues, coordinating with non-U.S. coalition forces, etc. As we were receiving reports, it was clear that my other guys on the scene were doing a great job too: relaying reports, securing the scene, follow on searches, rendering medical aid, etc. They were well-trained and also professional.

My injured soldiers were MEDEVAC’d to the hospital. Despite the typical lethality of the type of IED they were hit by, my soldiers’ injuries were (thankfully!) not life threatening or permanent. They were walking and talking before too long. And by the end of the day, they were even joking. What a relief.

I went to examine their vehicle that had been towed back. It was chewed up pretty good. It did its job though. The .50 cal was totaled. I’m not suppose to talk about the specifics on the IED or the effects on the HMMWV. The IED was one of the “bad ones” though and we were very lucky that something more serious hadn’t happened. I knew it and my guys knew it. When I linked up with them at the hospital, we each said it to one another at least a dozen times that day.

By late afternoon, one of the Generals in our chain of command was able to pin purple hearts on my soldiers’ chests. They wore them with pride. The purple heart is kind of like the CIB/CAB (these soldiers had already been awarded those badges months ago). A purple heart is an award of acknowledgement of service. A symbol of sacrifice for one’s country. These guys were among the dozens that day that silently sacrificed for their country, joining the thousands of their brothers that have done so before them in their service to our country and its people.

One of the great things about being a military leader is to see soldiers grow. I’ve witnessed a number of soldiers come into their own over the last 10 or so months during our mobilization. For example, I’ve got one soldier who a year ago could, at best, be described as “wayward.” He was always in trouble. He lacked discipline, didn’t care about much, and had an attitude about virtually everything. Today, he’s like a new man. He’s gained self respect. Others have come to rely upon him and he's become a real likeable and dependable guy. It brings a smile to my face just thinking about his turnaround.

And it’s not just the young guys. I can think of at least three NCOs/Officers who last year could be characterized as part of the over-35, past their prime crowd (yeah, I know that probably sounds funny to non-veterans--but the veterans out there probably know the type of person I'm talking about). These NCOs/Officers were just coasting—getting by from drill to drill, resting on their laurels/good ol' boy network, doing what was only necessary not to be called out. In fact, one of my previous first sergeants even wanted me to get rid of one of them. But, through some coaching and early successes during their tours, they all came into their own as well. They became proactive. They each built on their successes and achieved far more than I had confidence they would be able to. Their achievements were not only personal, but the unit overall is better for them. Each one of these NCOs/Officers I think has been surprised by his own success. You can see it through their new-found confidence in their smiles.

I know I'm proud of both the hard work they've all put in under a stressful wartime environment and what they've each accomplished. What I've witnessed during our mobilization has strengthened my belief in the potential and the abilities of the American Soldier.

"I hereby declare, on oath,

-that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen;
-that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic;
-that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;
-that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law;
-that I will perform noncombatant service in the armed forces of the United States when required by the law;
-that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and
-that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion;
so help me God."

It was a proud day when I heard that the other week. It’s the oath to become a citizen of the United States. Almost sixty U.S. Soldiers, Marines, Sailors and Airmen who were born in such places as the Bahamas, Ecuador, Mexico, Nigeria, Romania, India, Trinidad & Tobago, Antigua, Ghana, Dominican Republic, Jamaica, Gambia, Sierra Leone, Germany, Poland, Vietnam, Burma, and more than a dozen other countries, took that oath to become Naturalized U.S. Citizens.

The oath itself has been of some controversy over the years (wouldn’t you expect any type of oath to be in a pluralistic society?). The line "so help me God" is optional and, as you might have guessed, sometimes the lines " that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law;” and “that I will perform noncombatant service in the armed forces of the United States when required by the law;” are omitted as well, if the prospective citizen can prove such commitments are in violation of his or her religion.

Naturalized citizens and natural-born citizens (those who became citizen at birth) share the exact same rights as citizens, except that only natural-born citizens can become U.S. President (sorry Arnold). Compare that with the 18 levels of citizenship that I’m told exist in Kuwait.

After years of attempting to become a U.S. citizen, one of my soldiers was granted his wish. He’s told me stories of his life growing up in Kenya and his struggles since he entered the United States in the mid-90s. The possibility of deportation proceedings was looming when we got the notice of our mobilization to the Middle East. Even though this soldier had a wife and child in the United States that he would have to leave for more than a year, he was very pleased when we got the mobilization order because he knew it created a clear route to citizenship and long-term stability for his young family.

Experiencing with my soldier the wonders of gaining citizenship has helped shape some of my thoughts on the immigration issues that seem so controversial now back in the States. I don’t pretend to have the answers for all the complicated immigration questions and issues that our representatives currently face. However, I am pleased that we as a nation face them though because it shows that we are a great nation worthy of immigration. It is also another opportunity for us to do what is right and demonstrate to ourselves and the World that we adhere to the principles upon which we were founded and for which we stand.

Whether you know it as “Blue on Blue,” “Friendly Fire,” or "fratricide," the underlying matter is ugly. Downright ugly.

I had the unfortunate duty recently of investigating a Blue on Blue incident. The situation involved soldiers in one vehicle firing upon soldiers in several other vehicles. The events did not suggest any intentional wrongdoing. The vehicles belonged to different units and neither knew the other was there. None of the vehicles however strictly followed all the rules we have set up to prevent such an event.

Blue on Blue incidents are anything but new. I’ve read figures that estimate more than 15% of American deaths in World War II were due to friendly fire. With all the gadgets, electronic tracking, and refined procedures that we now have in place, the articles I’ve read recently in the public press seem to suggest that we really haven’t made much of a dent in that figure.

There are typically three causes of a fratricide incidents: (1) misidentifying friendly forces as enemy; (2) missing enemy forces and hitting friendlies as “collateral damage”; and (3) firing a weapon system incorrectly or accidentally in the wrong direction (e.g., field artillery, mortars).

Regardless of the cause, Blue on Blue incidents are very destructive. It starts with the obvious: one or more soldiers or marines are injured or killed by the acts of a fellow American. The life of the injured soldier is changed forever. The lives of the spouse, children, brothers, sisters, parents, and good friends of the injured or killed soldier are also changed forever. For those who escape from the incident with their lives, often times they will have permanent disabilities: lost hands, feet, arms and legs are common, and blindness, burns, and brain damage are far from uncommon. That’s the obvious part.

The not so obvious parts can also be devastating. Blue on Blue situations affect those unhurt—both those firing and those fired upon but not hit. There is an incredible feeling of guilt for those who fired. Here they are serving their country, doing what they think is right. And, they kill or permanently injure another American by a simple motion of pulling a trigger. They may or may not have done anything wrong. It doesn’t matter, the guilt is still there. There is also typically a significant loss in confidence. If not addressed, this can lead to depression or arguably worse, hesitation, which could jeopardize the soldier’s life and those around him if he’s put in harms way and hesitates or second guesses himself at a critical moment. The morale of that soldier’s unit can also plummet. Dissension and alienation within the unit happens frequently, at least for a period of time.

On the other side, the soldiers who were fired upon but not hurt may also lose confidence and perhaps more importantly, trust in their fellow soldiers or marines around them or from other units. It’s difficult enough to focus on defeating enemy IEDs, small arms fire, and RPGs that can be anywhere and go off at anytime. Adding to the mix the risk of friendly fire ratchets up that stress. It can lead to cynicism about coalition forces, paranoia, and unhealthy rivalries and dissension between units. When doing a dismounted patrol, the last thing that I would want to think about is whether that group of HMMWVs that are driving by me on the main supply route recognize that I am not AIF.

During my investigation, I was interviewing one of the soldiers who was fired upon. This particular soldier was not injured. He was clearly shook up by the event though. After asking him whether he had anything to add to his statement, he said with a nervous laugh that his buddies told him that instead of a CIB (combat infantryman badge), he would be “awarded a CFB.” “You know,” he said, “a Combat Friendly Badge.” For an infantryman, taking and/or returning enemy fire is sort of a right of passage in war. The Army gives a nod to the grunt by awarding him a CIB when that right of passage gate is passed. The CFB comment sort of emphasized to me some of the ugliness of Blue on Blue. There’s no such nod for a friendly fire incident (not that I advocate that there should be). But that soldier's life was every bit at risk as if it were the enemy's bullet. Everyone just wants the whole thing to go away—“learn from the mistakes,” try to forget about it, and move on.

The Pat Tillman story is a fairly public example of it. After the initial “cover up” was uncovered and various people apparently changed their stories, it became clear that his death was due to a Blue on Blue incident. The greatness of the American Hero that Pat Tillman was, is somehow stained by the fact that it was a fellow soldier’s bullet that killed him, rather than an enemy’s bullet. It makes no difference in my mind though. It doesn’t change who he was, what he gave up, and what he died for. But because of the fact that we are embarrassed and ashamed that one of our true heroes lost his life because of the actions of another one of our own, many of us think about Pat Tillman differently knowing he was killed by a fellow ranger. Somehow, because Tillman was associated with fratricide, he is less of a hero. That's wrong.

We all want fratricide to go away, we are doing a lot to make it go away (training, equipment, procedures, technologies, etc.), yet, we are very unsuccessful in making it go away. And when it happens, we’re either finger pointing, in a cover up mode, or struck with a malaise of not knowing how else to effectively prevent it without threatening force protection (i.e., security) or mission accomplishment. In all the years we've been at war as a nation, we for some reason have not been able to conquer fratricide, even though, logically, we should be able to through more training and better discipline. It’s been an issue I've struggled with and another lesson for me on the hardness of war.