When we talk about “Lessons Learned,” there is one that hasn’t been emphasized enough in the literature I’ve read about the Gulf War, and I want to underline it here, at the end of this book. Desert Storm was an international team effort. It couldn’t possibly have worked as well as it did — or maybe even worked at all — if all the nations hadn’t cooperated, paid respect to one another, and shouldered equal portions of the burden. This was not an American war. It was a Coalition war. And we’d better remember how we did it if we’re to be successful in the wars of the future.
The same thought occurred to Chuck Horner on a day in mid-February 1991, a time when the air war was on autopilot. The planes took off in the morning and sallied forth to bomb the Iraqi Army. They returned to bases in Saudi Arabia to load more bombs, then continued the pounding of Saddam’s helpless troops — now little more than an armed rabble, hunkering down anywhere that offered safety from the aerial onslaught.
Among Coalition airmen, everyone was tired, worn down, fatigued, for this was the hard part of war — the unnecessary part. The outcome of the war had been decided, yet the killing went on. Even after his losses of the first month of the war, and even after days upon days of mind-numbing bombing attacks, the contest of wills between the Coalition and the Iraqi leader continued. Saddam Hussein still held on to the notion that he could somehow win this conflict and keep his stolen treasure, Kuwait.
In mid-February, a new addition to the Coalition air force arrived, when Korea sent four C-130 transports to help move the armies to the west for the ground offensive. The day they landed at their new home at Al-Ain Air Base in the United Arab Emirates, Chuck Horner greeted the senior representative of the Republic of Korea Air Force, Major General Lee. Lee would go on to command the ROKAF, become the chairman of their military forces, and eventually become the Secretary of Defense of his country; but that day he was another member of the Coalition, an equal.
At their initial meeting, Horner was surprised at Lee’s quiet, humble, and somewhat abashed tone.
At that point, Horner was totally unaware that the ROKAF had never engaged in foreign deployed operations — operations the USAF takes for granted. Thus they were not equipped with the kits of aircraft spare parts, maps, radio navigation charts, tents, fuel bladders, and bags of individual equipment (such as helmets and chemical weapons protection gear) that are everyday life to an American C-130 squadron. They had simply loaded up their transports with maintenance personnel and whatever spare tires and maintenance equipment they could carry, and had flown off to the unknown. The possibility that they might get shot down and die was of little concern. The questions General Lee faced were far more troubling: How would he feed and house his men? Where would they get fuel and supplies to maintain their jets? Most of all — as newcomers to a war that was well into its fourth week — would they be accepted? The honor of an entire nation rested on his troubled shoulders.
He had no doubt that his men would work tirelessly to do whatever was asked of them. He knew that they would risk their lives to fly missions in support of the Coalition ground forces as they advanced into occupied Kuwait and Iraq. But he also knew that without a helping hand, he would fail, and his aircraft would sit on the ground, idle, even a burden, while others fought and died. Despite this profound unease, he was too proud to beg.
As they talked, Horner began to realize how truly worried and anxious the Korean was — even as he himself knew for certain that most of General Lee’s worries were groundless.
And at that moment, he had a small revelation. It hit Horner as it had never hit him before what the Coalition was all about. Let him tell you his ideas on that.
? When I met General Lee, my first thoughts were Gee, another nation is joining us, and we can sure use their transports. Our airlifters are worn out moving the armies to the west. But when I met him, I was struck with his apologetic, almost embarrassed, manner. He was worried that he might not have the wherewithal to accomplish his mission. I quickly put those fears to rest with a warm handshake, and with assurances that whatever his people needed would be provided: housing and meals courtesy of the UAE Air Force hosts, spare parts and command and control from his USAF counterparts, and lots of productive work from everybody. We’re all partners in the war to free Kuwait, I concluded.
After my assurances, a huge wave of relief came over him, and in a moment, he and I became friends.
Up until that instant, I had almost taken the Coalition for granted.
It was then that I began to comprehend the nature of this Coalition, its uniqueness in history, and its importance as a defining aspect to future warfare. It was then that I began to treasure the — what was the right word? Brotherhood? Fellowship? The precise term didn’t come easy; we were in a new world here — which I had been too busy to comprehend since those early days of August.
For the first time I realized that this coalition was far different from the joining of forces that had occurred in World Wars I and II… that we were a team, not the augmented American force of the Korean War and our ill- fated attempt to fight as a coalition in Vietnam… that we Americans were in a position of leadership — yet were truly not in charge… that the other national leaders on the team were aware that we were big, had all the nicest equipment, and could be painfully self-assured and arrogant; yet that equality with us was their right and privilege — even though they could never ask for, much less demand, that status, because to do so would be an admission that we were in fact in charge.
General Lee had hit me right between the eyes. He’d made me awaken to the sacrifice it must have been for the other members — especially those from outside NATO — to trust the Americans. And suddenly I began to actually identify with my fellow airmen from this rainbow of nations, joined under a common command in a common purpose.
? Later that week, I ran into Colonel Mohammed Al-Ayeesh in the Black Hole. This Saudi fighter pilot and Major Turki bin Bandar (called Little Turki) had been the first foreign officers to join the Black Hole planning group in September.[73]
In September, we had had no foreign officers assisting our planning for offensive air operations, and that had troubled me. Yet I knew that if I asked permission from Schwarzkopf, he would be concerned about security leaks and deny my request. Still, in the belief that it was better to seek forgiveness than to live a life of indecision, I’d gone to General Behery.
“Ahmed,” I said, “you must know we are planning offensive operations against the Iraqis.”
With a smile, he assured me he was well aware that all those Americans shuttling to and from the large conference room next to both our offices must have been involved in something beyond the defense of Saudi Arabia.
I then explained that I did not want to commit his nation to a war in Iraq, but we both knew that such a thing would be required if Saddam did not terminate the occupation of Kuwait.
He agreed.
Then I took a deep breath, prayed that Schwarzkopf would not kill me when he found out, and asked if General Behery had a couple of bright young officers who could participate in our planning efforts. If we were to be a true coalition, we needed representation from the other nations that would join in the fight to free Kuwait. I assured him that this did not constitute a formal agreement by his government, and added that, though I fully expected them to keep him informed, anyone he gave me would be sworn to secrecy.
He nodded. Then we turned our conversation to other matters.
Later that day, Ayeesh and Little Turki reported to my office, and I took them to the Black Hole to meet their new boss, Buster Glosson.
? When I ran into Ayeesh that day in February, I asked him about those opening days back in September, and especially about how the Americans had accepted his presence. I wanted to understand how we treated Coalition members from other nations.
Breaking into a huge smile, his eyes sparkling, he asked me, “You really want to know?” When I nodded, yes, he bluntly told me, “They treated me like a dumb officer. The moment I walked in, they shunted me to the side.
