undertaking, Joe Bob stuck to it, in spite of occasional abuse from me.
These are from his notes for February 19: “Have been continuing to work the CAS issue hard over the past several days. General Horner has thrown us out a couple of times. I think we are getting closer to understanding his approach. The closest analogy I can come up with is Force Protection. Only, the protected force is super-large and undisciplined, and both sides look the same. Our job is to anticipate what the enemy will throw at the force and come up with a plan and ROE [rules of engagement] to maximize enemy kills while preventing fratricide. VID [visual identification] is out. Assuming that the Army knows where its forces are is out. Earlier approved concepts of providing CAS for an advancing friendly force are out, because they emphasized a superior force attacking a retreating enemy. Kill zones are okay, when the friendlies are in dire straits and need air at any cost. ‘Figure it out, shit-head, that’s your job’ is a phrase I’m getting accustomed to from General Horner.”
When Joe Bob’s plan was published, it provided guidance to FACs, Scouts, Planners, and Air Tasking Order writers. Its basic messages were: “If in doubt, don’t. Service CAS requests first. Don’t even assume things will be easy or go as planned.” And for the most part, they worked.
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
As the days of the ground war continued, the attitude in the TACC grew ever more relieved. Spirits were high. At each shift change, you could hear the upbeat buzz as the guys related how well the troops in the sand of Kuwait and Iraq were doing. Most important, there were few reports of casualties, and incredible reports of Iraqis surrendering in such numbers that our forces could only give them food and water and tell them where they needed to go to be picked up.
To be sure, we had problems — placement of the FSCL, the weather, friendly-fire incidents, and trying to keep track of all that was going on on the battlefield, with its hellish oil fires and rainy weather — but the good news continued.
By February 26, Walt Boomer was a few miles south of the major highway intersection west of Kuwait City; Gary Luck had turned the corner and was racing down the Iraqi highway south of the Euphrates; and Fred Franks was advancing toward the Republican Guard, his ultimate target.
At that point, the Iraqis totally lost heart and started to evacuate occupied Kuwait, but airpower halted the caravan of Iraqi Army and plunderers fleeing toward Basra. This event was later called by the media “The Highway of Death.” There were certainly a lot of dead vehicles, but not so many dead Iraqis. They’d already learned to scamper off into the desert when our aircraft started to attack. Nevertheless, some people back home wrongly chose to believe we were cruelly and unusually punishing our already whipped foes.
Meanwhile, numerous tank engagements shredded the myth of Iraqi Army “battle hardness.” Fred Franks’s VIIth Corps slammed into the heavy divisions of the Republican Guard and other Iraqi armor. And always POWs, and more POWs.
It wasn’t all easy. An A-10 was shot down; and an Army helicopter attempting to rescue the pilot was itself shot down, killing several of the crew, with the rest being taken prisoner. Even though it was absolutely clear that the Iraqis were thoroughly defeated, they still remained dangerous, simply because they remain armed, and were frightened and disorganized, in many cases an armed rabble.
By February 27, talk had turned toward terminating the hostilities. Kuwait was free. We were not interested in governing Iraq. So the question became “How do we stop the killing?”
I knew we were close to answering that question when General Schwarzkopf asked me how much notification I would need to turn off our attacks. He was trying to come up with a plan for stopping the war. He knew Washington was going to be asking him very soon, “When can you stop? How long will it take to turn off the ground fires and air fires?”
“I figure two hours,” I said, “will be enough to get the word to the pilots before they take off, or drop off a tanker, en route to their targets.
“Once there’s a cessation of hostilities,” I went on to explain, “we will still maintain fighter patrols over the country, in case the Iraqis attempt a sneak punch with their remaining fighters or bombers. We’ll also keep aircraft on the ground loaded with bombs and missiles, in case the cease-fire fails and Iraqi ground forces threaten Coalition ground forces.”
But I knew this was just playing it safe. In reality, all that was left to do was begin the talks at Safwan that would make the end official.
After Schwarzkopf’s call, I sat in the now very hushed TACC as the duty officers busied themselves reading books or trying to figure how to get back home. There was still flying to do over Iraq, but it was routine. There were still a few engagements on the ground as the Iraqis stumbled into our ground forces and a firefight broke out. We still shot down a few Iraqis who thought it was okay to attack their insurgents in the south and north. But in our hearts, the war was over. We knew it was time to stop the insanity.
14
Shock and Awe
? As Coalition forces packed up their kits and headed home, historians began analyzing and comparing — and some comparisons are enlightening; see the accompanying charts — while military staffs began compiling studies (in militarese, these are often referred to as “Lessons Learned”). A problem quickly became apparent: This war was so different from — and in many ways so much more successful than — any other example of armed conflict, it offered advocates of practically any point of view an opening to make a favorable case. In the United States, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and each of the service departments published “Lessons Learned” documents that were in fact advertisements for individual programs, requirements, or services. This is not to say they were totally dishonest. Some of them actually uncovered areas that needed to be fixed.
Still, the so-called “studies” tended to be self-supporting rather than critical of the agency that sponsored the work. And too many of the books, articles, studies, and official documents misstated the facts, with the aim of salvaging a weapon system, military doctrine, or reputation whose worth could not otherwise be supported. They were public relations documents, not clear-eyed, honest appraisals, and they were aimed at influencing the soon- to-come budget reductions and debates over each service’s roles and missions.
Since the various conclusions tended to be contradictory, there were inevitable battles. The pie was finite.
These battles were best summed up in the debate over whether or not the Gulf War was a “revolution in military affairs,” or RMA, as it was expressed in the acronym-happy Pentagon.
The RMA debate divided those who wished to continue business as usual from those who believed that war had changed so fundamentally that new organizations, strategies, doctrines, and military forces were needed. The former tended to come from the land services. They took it as an article of faith that war was a matter of meeting the enemy army, navy, and/or air force on the battlefield, and inflicting such damage that he could no longer resist the will of the dominant military force. The goal was to destroy the enemy military so greatly that resistance was impossible or futile.
The revolutionaries — often air, sea, and space advocates — tended to talk about asymmetric warfare. In asymmetric warfare, an apparently weak nation (call it nation A) will refuse to engage its stronger enemy (nation B) in the areas of its strength, and instead will attack where B is most vulnerable. Thus, if B has a large land army, A will avoid ground combat, and perhaps use computer attacks against B’s national infrastructure to weaken it,
