THE POSSE
Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially
selected and well-trained soldier.
MUHAMMED FARRAH AIDEED WAS A bad man. He and his clan
of Habr Gidir militia had been attacking the United Nations food
shipments. A haven for terrorists and warlords, Somalia was a country
whose very existence was threatened by civil war, particularly
through the violent efforts of a political bully like Aideed. In the early
1990s the United Nations was supplying the chaotic African nation
with humanitarian aid because of the civil war and the starvation
crisis destroying the Somalian people.
This charitable effort, however, was hindered by Aideed. He and
his troops, in terroristic fashion, made sure none of the country’s
citizens could get access to the food and supplies donated by the U.N.
It’s estimated that more than 80 percent of the food brought in by
international relief organizations was confiscated by Aideed’s gang.
In 1992 the United States made a decision to step in. Then-
President George Bush, in one of his last acts in the White House,
formed Operation Restore Hope sending U.S. troops to lead the
international intervention force. The objective of this 25,000-troop
mission was to secure the trade routes in Somalia so food could get
through to the people.
You may remember images of Marines landing on the beach at
night while reporters waited there with their cameras and microphones
to ask, “How does it feel to be here in Somalia?” Some young
jarhead, looking confused because he’s trying to stay tactical as CNN
shines a spotlight in his face, proudly answered, “It feels good to be
here helping the starving people of Africa.”
“The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.”
(Ernest Hemingway)
Many of us saw the heart-breaking images on TV of starving kids
with vultures lurking nearby and heard the reports of massive widespread
death. Something needed to be done. Being the charitable
nation we are, we sent in the U.S. Marines. Good. Way to go, USA.
We’ll have that place fixed up in no time. And indeed, within a year
as it would seem from the news, we had the situation under control
and we were already bringing the bulk of our troops home. Mission
accomplished. Operation Restore Hope was a success. And that was
pretty much what the American people knew about Somalia.
Here was the reality. In a starving country devoid of hope, food
meant power. Control the food; control the power. Damn anyone
who might be convoying those shipments in the name of world peace.
Say, for instance, the twenty-two Pakistani U.N. peacekeepers who
were blown to kingdom come and gunned down by Aideed’s men.
When American troops were assigned to guard the food shipments,
Aideed began to attack the U.S. When Marines and other U.S. soldiers
started dying as a result of this third-world thug, it was time to “do
something.” That something was called Task Force Ranger (TFR).
Approved by the brand new Clinton administration, TFR was
a top secret, joint military special operations package consisting
of Army Special Forces, Delta operators, Rangers, Night Stalkers of
the 160th Special Operations Air Regiment, Navy SEALs, and Air
Force commandos. We were an unprecedented assault force brought
together for one primary objective!hunt down and capture an
enemy of the United States. The mission was named Gothic Serpent.
The cover story was that we were there to support UNISOM (United
Nations Operations in Somalia). The truth was, we were tasked to
find and capture a warlord. If we couldn’t get him, we’d start targeting
his infrastructure.
We were not part of the humanitarian mission to feed the starving
people of Somalia nor were we there to keep the peace. Rangers wouldn’t
know how to do that anyway. We came to kick in doors and shoot any
bad guys who tried to resist. We were a military posse of America’s elite
sent on a man-hunt in the streets of the African Wild West.
“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only
because rough men stand ready to do violence on their
behalf.” (Attributed to George Orwell)
We were one company of Rangers (Bco) from the 3rd Ranger
Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment in Fort Benning, Georgia.
Rangers are a highly trained, highly motivated infantry unit, storm
troopers, really, who specialize in raids and dangerous missions
behind enemy lines. We were, for the most part, young soldiers on
our first enlistment, held to an incredibly high standard. We lived and
breathed the six stanzas of the Ranger Creed that could be summed
up in the Ranger motto “Rangers lead the way!”
Though they tried to blend in, the most covert and arguably most
noticeable asset to TFR was the one squadron of Delta Force soldiers
from Fort Bragg, North Carolina. They cut their hair down to the
high and tight standards of the young Rangers to try and look a bit
more inconspicuous. But it’s hard to hide a bunch of men who physically
resembled superheroes, long hair or not. Delta Force are your
NFL pro-bowl players, the NBA all-stars of Army special operations.
We called them the “varsity squad” and “big brother” because they
were who we, as young Rangers, wanted to be and most looked up to.
Seasoned commandos with years of experience in the special
operations community, Delta operators are trained to do just about
anything you can imagine. In fact, sometimes their missions are so
top-secret the Army doesn’t acknowledge their existence. But trust
me, they are very real. Keep that in mind the next time you happen to
read a story in USA Today’s world news section that says something
like “Coalition Forces Apprehend Top Taliban Terrorist.” The article
will tell you how the Iraqi police are showing great improvement and
making tremendous strides in their efforts to stand on their own.
In fact, they have far surpassed expectations by having, all by themselves,
captured two of the top most-wanted al-Qaeda in all of Iraq.
Sure, they did it by themselves. Special operators never ask for credit.
They just get the job done.
The air asset of TFR belonged to the 160th Special Operations
Air Regiment out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky. These guys were my
heroes. In the many years I got to work with them, I never once saw
them even put on a landing light. The Night Stalkers are the Army’s
elite helicopter unit. They are the Captain Kirks of Army aviation!
incredible pilots and crews absolutely dependable in their ability to
transport and support the men on the ground in any type of weather,
terrain, or combat situation, be it day or preferably night. “Night
Stalkers Don’t Quit!”
In addition to the Army’s elite, we also had other services added
to the mix for the benefit of their unique skill set. There was a team
of high-speed sailors who had tattoos of small-flippered sea mammals
on their arms. The Navy doesn’t like to talk about what they do
either, but they were there.
Of course, the government wanted its stake in the game so there
were various three-letter spooky agency people dispersed among us
who never seemed to have had any sort of identification except for a
first name. “GI Jane” was one of the operatives we nicknamed. Funny
when you are surrounded by nothing but men for months at a time,
a woman within the ranks starts to take on supermodel looks and
Wonder Woman capabilities. At least that’s how I like to remember her.
The Air Force lent us their best with a small contingent of combat
controllers (CCT) and pararescue guys (PJ). CCT are Air Force
ground troops who specialize in pathfinder, air traffic control, and
fire-support type operations. They are often assigned individually
or as a team to other special operations forces like Special Forces or
Navy SEAL teams to help provide expert air coordination and communications
capabilities. PJs are basically warrior medics, trained to
go in behind enemy lines to get a downed pilot or crew member, keep
them alive, and, if need be, fight to carry them home.
You know I never did get to hang out much with the Air Force
guys. I think they may have been at the beach in their condominiums
the Air Force flew in for them. Yeah, I was pretty sure they were
having BBQs and hanging out with the Swedish nurses from the
U.N. compound. There is an amazing benefit to working for the Air
Force, which is usually lacking in the Army. It’s called “quality of life.”
Whereas the Army is singularly focused on accomplishing the mission
first, the Air Force has a very unique way of doing business!let’s take
care of our people first and then we’ll see about getting the job done.
The Air Force is a good gig, especially if you make it into the
special operations side of it. You get to train hard at a high-speed,
cool-guy job, and you have the best accommodations the military
can afford. I think I would have liked working in the Air Force alongside
the PJs and CCT guys. They all seemed to love their jobs, were
incredibly smart, and had a much more fun and laid-back attitude
than the strict discipline of the Ranger Regiment.
I get the chance to speak to a lot of high school students. Usually
an Army recruiter will show up and make his presence known just in
case the kids have any questions about a career in the Army. I think
my military service and the fact I’m now a full-time working musician
is good ammunition for a recruiter burdened with the monumental
task of meeting the Army’s quotas.
He can say something like, “Look kids. You can serve honorably
in the Army and still be able to get out and do anything you want.
Look at Keni. He’s a famous country music star and he even has long
hair!”
Inevitably some kid is going to come up to me after my speech
and, in an enthusiastic voice, tell me of his immediate plans for the
future. “Hey Keni, I’m thinking of joining the Army. You got any
advice?”
I’ll look around to make sure the Army recruiter is out of earshot.
Then I’ll lean into the young man and give him a covert answer as
if I’m a spy unloading the best-kept secret that no Army, Navy, or
Marine recruiter would ever dare tell you. “Yes. Here’s my advice.
Join the Air Force! It’s about quality of life.”
“Aim High” (the Air Force Recruiting Motto)
The different units of Task Force Ranger were broken down into
its own divisions of squads and teams and job responsibility. The
military is very good at breaking down big groups of people into
smaller, more manageable sub-groups of people. For instance, the
75th Ranger Regiment is made up of four battalions.
Ours was the 3rd Battalion and there were four companies within
the battalion: Aco, Bco (ours), Cco, and HQ. Each company consists
of about 150 men organized into four platoons. Each platoon is
divided into four squads. Each squad is split into two teams. In most
infantry units, a squad is about eight to ten men. The Rangers have
always been a little short handed. So my squad only had five men. I’d
like you to meet them.
There was Doug Boren, my buddy from Texas. He was the squad
leader. Typically, there are two team leaders under the squad leader,
but since we didn’t have enough guys, we only had one team leader!
me. Doug and I were the same rank, first-time noncommissioned officers
or E-5 buck sergeants. Since Doug had been in the Army longer
than me by like a minute and a half, he officially outranked me.
I asked my platoon sergeant, SFC Sean T. Watson about that
once. “How come Sgt. Boren gets to be the squad leader and I don’t?”
“Because he’s from Texas!”
You know, I still haven’t figured that one out. Apparently Texas
outranks the rest of the nation.
Doug and I worked well together. We became good friends and
most of the time, he was pretty laid-back. To me, Doug was a great
example of the “quiet professional” we were all supposed to be. He
didn’t yell much. Didn’t really have to. The example he set did most
of the talking.
Physically, Doug was a stud. In fact, a few years later he would
go on to achieve a second place finish in the world renowned Best
Ranger Competition. This event happens once a year at the Ranger
training camp in Fort Benning. Units from all around the globe
send their best to compete in an incredibly grueling and physically
exhausting three-day event where two-man buddy teams are pushed
to their physical and mental limit. Can you imagine what it was like
being in a squad with a world-class athlete and trying to keep up with
him on a daily basis? Doug set the standard for others to follow. And
he set the standard high.
Specialist Melvin Dejesus had his “tab,” meaning he successfully
graduated from Ranger School and earned the right to dawn
the coveted RANGER tab on his left shoulder above the 3rd
Ranger Battalion scroll. For any Ranger serving in the 75th Ranger
Regiment, “the tab” is a right of passage. If you are going to advance
in the Rangers, you have to have your tab. Earn your tab, enjoy a new
level of respect among your peers.
Any man can enlist in the Ranger Regiment. Not every man can
stay. And even fewer last long enough for us to send them to Ranger
School. It usually takes about a year toughing it out as a private before
you get sent to the school. And that only happens when your squad
leader feels you have demonstrated the mental and physical fortitude
required to successfully complete the course. Most of the military sends soldiers
with years of rank and experience. The Ranger Regiment sends
privates. But we don’t send people to fail. We offer a pre-Ranger course
privates go through just to make sure they are ready for the real deal.
Ranger School is not a part of the 75th Ranger Regiment. It is
the Army’s premier leadership school and is open to all services. It’s
an intense and difficult course where you learn how to lead men in
small-unit tactics under the most stressful combat situations a training
course can re-create. Only a handful of those who start Ranger
School actually finish and graduate. It is sixty-one days long and
takes place in three different training environments.
There used to be a fourth phase that was held in the desert.
Ironically the desert phase is no longer a part of Ranger School.
Seems rather short-sighted they would cancel it back in 1995 given
that less than a decade later, we would be fighting a war in deserts
on two fronts. Maybe I’m just jealous because when I went through
the school (back when it was hard), I had to endure two weeks in the
desert in Fort Bliss, Texas. Don’t let the name fool you. I still have the
cracks in my fingers where the heat of the sun turned my skin into
alligator hide. Desert phase or not, anyone who completes Ranger
School has truly earned the right to wear that tab.
Somewhere along the way, Dejesus picked up the name “the
Roach.” I couldn’t tell you how half the guys got their nicknames,
but if it sounded funny and was fun to say, it stuck. Now that he was
back from Ranger School, the Roach was promoted to the rank of
Specialist pay grade E-4, and it was time to groom him into becoming
a new team leader. Stereotypically, a young Ranger with a brand new
tab is legend to be a fire-breathing, smack-talking stud who strikes
fear into his enemies and his subordinates.
Generally this is true since the young soldiers are eager to dish
out a little of what they have been taking for the past year. But I think
Dejesus was influenced in a good way by the laid-back leadership
style Doug and I enacted. Dejesus was more mature than most. He
had a pretty level head and, like us, never felt the need to do a lot of
yelling. I was glad for it because that was not usually the case with
other new E-4s.
Dejesus was like a lot of guys who find their way into the Rangers.
He was a hard young man, an overachiever looking for something
challenging that would turn him into his definition of what a man
should be. Melvin grew up in Puerto Rico. Didn’t have the best relationship
with his father. Probably joined the Army because the judge
gave him the option.
“Mr. Dejesus. You can join the Army, or you can go to jail. What
is it going to be, son?”
“I’ll take the Army!”
You know the kind. Because he was such a self-proclaimed tough
guy, you couldn’t throw anything at the Roach he hadn’t already seen
back in the hood. At least that’s what he would tell you. I remember
introducing him to the wonderful world of high-powered weapons.
“Men, this is a Carl Gustav rocket launcher. It can penetrate six
inches of armored steel. Any questions?” Dejesus’s hand climbed up
high.
“Yes, Dejesus?”
“Yo man, in Puerto Rico, everyone had a rocket launcher!”
Let me put it this way. I was glad Dejesus was on our side and
even happier to have him on my team.
There was Private First Class Eric Suranski who came from
the Midwest. He was a good solid guy who, for the most part, was
squared away. I liked having him. He did what he was told and did it
well. As a team leader, that’s the most you could ask from someone
under your charge.
Whereas Dejesus was a tough guy, Eric was a thinker. He completed
a couple years of community college and wanted to serve
his country for a while, so he joined the Army. He wanted to be
challenged, so he enlisted for a shot at the Rangers. I say “a shot
at” because that’s all an enlistment contract to the 75th Ranger
Regiment will get you.
You can ask a recruiter for your choice of duty station, and the
response is always the same. The recruiter will tell you all kinds of
lies about how he doesn’t have that many slots available and how
he once wanted to be in the Ranger Regiment himself. But while
he was serving as a “Marine-recon-Navy-Ranger-SEAL,” he came
down with a rare case of the “kneezles” and “cronic toelio” so he
physically just couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s why he’s stuck
behind a desk now.
I can hear that recruiter even now. “Besides, what do you want to
be a Ranger for anyway? Rangers are crazy. Jumping out of planes,
eating snakes, and that kind of thing. What if you wash out? Then
what? You’ll get booted out and sent Army-wide with no options in
accordance with the Army’s needs. Wouldn’t you rather go into communications?
I can guarantee you a commo school slot right now.
That way you’ll have a life skill to fall back upon once you’re out of the
Army. Oh son! And if you sign right here today, I can guarantee you
money for college and we’ll even pay off your student loans!”
But guys like Eric Suranski, Melvin Dejesus, and Doug Boren
don’t join up for the college money. They don’t join up to learn a skill
set to “fall back on in the real world.” And they certainly don’t worry
about washing out because they don’t see themselves as capable of
failing. Guarantees can only take you so far. The rest is contingent
upon your ability to meet or surpass the challenges and requirements
set before you. Which brings me to Floyd.
David Floyd was from somewhere in South “Cackalacky”
Carolina. He was what we in the South politely call a “bless your
heart” kind of fellow. Meaning, you see him coming and the only
polite response you can think of is “Oh man, bless your heart.” That
way you have blessed him, so now you can tear him apart. Physically
he was a spitting image of Barney Fife. Weighed about 130 pounds on
a wet day. He was good-natured and kind-hearted. But when he first
got to us, he was “soup.” Soup is short for soup sandwich. Which, as
you can imagine, is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.
To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure how Floyd made it into
the Ranger Regiment to begin with. It’s not an easy place to get
to. There’s a lengthy process of weeding out that takes place long
before you ever set foot into a Ranger Battalion. You have to get
through basic training, then Advanced Individual Training or AIT.
If you graduate both programs and you are on a path to the Ranger
Regiment, you then head straight to Airborne School.
Upon graduating Airborne School, and I mean within an hour of
the graduation ceremony, you are marched down the road to RASP
(Ranger Assessment and Selection Process). This is a two-month
long Ranger indoctrination course designed to assess your physical
and mental toughness as well as get you up to speed with regimental
standard operating procedures. Remember the Rangers are deployable
24/7. With regular combat rotations already in place to Iraq
and Afghanistan, it’s highly likely a Ranger recruit, brand new to the
Regiment, can find himself arriving and deploying within the same
month. The rigorous demands of RASP are put in place to ensure the
new Ranger has the skill set necessary to hit the ground running and
be an asset to himself and his squad.
The 75th Ranger Regiment is the premier light-infantry unit
in the Army. Their mission is to “plan and conduct special missions
in support of U.S. policy and objectives.” They are the absolute best
at what they do. You can only be the best if you work with and hire
the best people. As far as the Rangers, that was the point of making it
so hard to get in. We were expected to be the best. So we only wanted
the best.
How Floyd made it through all those courses and into the
3rd Ranger Battalion was a miracle and, if anything, a testament to
his mental fortitude. Because I’m telling you, that boy couldn’t get
anything right the first time. If brains were a stick of dynamite, he
didn’t have enough to blow his nose. The Army sets standards. The
Rangers set those standards just a little higher. There are physical fitness
standards, proficiency standards, even written standards. As the
guy in charge of him, Floyd was a pain in my butt because it meant
extra work seeing as how he was constantly in need of “retraining.”
For instance, once a quarter we would do a road march for proficiency
sake. It’s a twelve-mile walk where you carry fifty pounds on
your back and have only three hours to do it. Most people can walk
a mile every fifteen minutes. Do it wearing combat boots, dressed
in full gear with a 50-lb rucksack on your back, and though it’s
still doable, it doesn’t feel good. Your shoulders ache. Your feet have
blisters. You are tired. Usually the marches are strategically scheduled
right before the weekend, so at least you have a two-day break
afterward.
I once made the mistake of letting Floyd fall back. I wanted to
show everyone how fast I was and I sure wasn’t gonna let this newbie
slow me down and make me look bad. The problem was, if Floyd
came in just a minute late, then he failed to meet the standard. And
who do you think got yelled at for that one?
“Sergeant Thomas! Get in here! Why didn’t Floyd pass his roadmarch?
Why can’t he pass a PT Test? What is wrong with you?”
What is wrong with me? Sergeant Watson cared very little how
fast I was, how hard I was, or that Doug and I scared the newbies
with our speed. What he cared about was that everyone in his platoon
met the standard.
So come Saturday morning when everyone else was enjoying
their weekend off, who was out in the field with aching shoulders
and blistered toes walking that twelve-mile road march AGAIN?
You are correct. David Floyd. But so was Doug Boren, Keni
Thomas, Melvin Dejesus, and Eric Suranski. You may think “Well,
that’s not fair. Floyd screwed up. He should take responsibility for
his own actions and push himself to pass what he failed to accomplish.”
True. He should take responsibility for his own action. But
SFC Watson was trying to teach me what I as a young leader had
yet to learn.
You are only as good as your weakest link.
“A house divided against itself will not stand.”
(Matthew 12:25NKJV)
When someone on our team, staff, or unit doesn’t pull their
weight, we have a tendency to distance ourselves from that person.
We think, “I’m better than they are. I don’t want to be associated with
a loser. Can’t be slowed down. Gotta keep moving forward. Gotta
show everyone how good I am. I can’t worry about someone else. I’ve
got problems of my own.”
We take on a “survival of the fittest” mentality and leave the
other person behind in order to save ourselves. By allowing someone
else to fail, we somehow reason that by setting ourselves apart from
them, it makes us look better, because we have met the standard,
accomplished the goal, or surpassed expectations while others could
not. But as a person who leads by example, it’s the wrong answer.
I understand it is never an easy thing to pull someone aside and say,
“Hey, you’re not holding up your end. You seem to be having a hard
time carrying your load. We need you to get up to speed because the
team can’t function without you. How can I help?”
I know how tough that conversation is to have. It certainly would
be easier to just avoid it, let the person fail, and maybe they’ll get fired
or fade away. You know why it’s such a difficult thing to do? Because
it’s going to take extra effort on your part. As a person who strives
to set an example for others to follow, the burden of leadership is on
your shoulders.
Peter understood well the importance of leading by example. He
made it a point to remind Christians that they are being looked at, to
set an example for others to follow even when there is no immediate
or perceivable self-gain.
“Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving
as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for
dishonest gain but eagerly; nor as being lords over
those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock.”
(1 Peter 5:2–3NKJV)
I don’t think Peter was talking only to the folks in charge who we
might typically think are the “lords over us.” He was making a point
that we are all leaders by the example we set. Unless we happen to be
the Grand Poobah, we seldom get to choose who we work with. But
we do get to choose who we work for. When you took on that job,
accepted that position, joined that church, volunteered your time to
that cause, you raised your right hand and said, “Give me the job. You
can count on me. Send me.”
You have then become part of something much larger than yourself.
You have become part of what is called a team where there is
always a person to your left and to your right. And those people are
counting on you. Begin to see yourself as important, and you will
begin to live up to it. That means doing the hard work even when it
doesn’t necessarily mean you will be patted on the back for it. The
gain is in the greatness of your team.
You may not get to choose the people you work with. But what
you can do is hold them to a higher standard. Set your standards high
and bring your team up to meet those standards.
If you bring your standards down to accommodate everyone,
then what do you have? You have mediocrity. And nobody wants to
be part of an average team. We want to be winners. We want to be
great. We want to know at the end of the day our part was one that
contributed to greatness and excellence.
You’ve never heard a coach in a press conference on Saturday
or Sunday afternoon come on TV, look the camera in the eye, and
say, “I think we’re looking pretty mediocre, everyone feels good about
themselves. This is gonna be great. We’re gonna go out there and do
our best.”
That would be ridiculous. Champions talk about working hard,
being prepared, and giving every ounce of effort they have so they
know, win or lose, they left everything on the field. You train as
you fight so you will fight as you train. You will only be as good as
you prepared yourself to be. Your team will only be as good as the
sum of its parts. If you are going to be counted on as the Army’s
premiere light infantry special operations unit, then you better make
certain everyone is up to the task.
“Now the body is not made up of one part but of many.”
(1 Corinthians 12:14)
Floyd was our machine gunner. If he wasn’t up to speed on that
weapon system, if he couldn’t handle it like an absolute expert, then
we couldn’t count on him. If the gun goes down, the squad is in trouble.
If the squad falters, the platoon is crippled. Once that happens,
the mission is lost. David Floyd was the one piece of the puzzle that
made everything work. The many lives and millions of dollars spent
to send TFR into Somalia all hinged on David Floyd and his ability
to do his job while setting an example for others to follow.
Begin to see yourself as important and you will begin to live up
to it.
So push, pull, or drag, we made sure Floyd got across that finish
line and met the high standard we set for ourselves. We needed Floyd.
We couldn’t afford to just get rid of him and let him fall behind.
Because as good as I am, I cannot do it all. And guess what? Neither
can you.
“You’re going to wear yourself out—and
the people, too. This job is too heavy a burden
for you to handle all by yourself.” (Exodus 18:18NLT)
No comments:
Post a Comment