Every Man a Tiger: The Gulf War Air Campaign

What turns my key is fear of failure in the face of a great challenge. And what causes me to go into the idle mode is to be given something to do that really doesn’t need much doing.

None of this means that I have any illusion that I am the reason the big job will get done. That’s not my function: I am a cheerleader, a mender of faint souls; I’m the one who listens to contending views of the path, the method for the use of resources or the organization of effort, and then decides which way to go.

? These facts were not lost on Bill Creech. In the Air Force, commands are doled out very selectively, and most higher officers get only one of them in their entire life. But Creech kept moving Horner: two wings, two air divisions, and an air defense weapons center — all command billets. Then, after two years on staff, he spent five and a half years commanding regular forces, and spent the last few years of his career as a unified commander.

As a commander, you only get things done through other people. You lead people, you manage things. And if you can’t lead, you command. You order people to do what you want. Sometimes I had to order people; sometimes I just didn’t have time to go through all the niceties that leadership demands and had to lay a little leather on somebody. But leadership is best.

When you lead, you have to create an environment where the leader is the chief server. That is to say, he is the one who makes it possible for everyone else to do their jobs. He provides the backup and the support. I saw command as an inverted pyramid. I was the lowest guy in the food chain and the airman was the highest guy in the food chain, and it was my job to make sure I was working for all those people as much as possible.

The environment you create as commander will also have other characteristics. For one thing, it has to suit your personality (so you don’t go crazy); within it, you have to lay down realistic guidelines and goals (so people won’t fall off the face of the earth and will know where they’re going); yet it has to allow those under your command the freedom to do their best and most creative work. And then you have to trust yourself and everyone else to let all that happen.

? For Horner, the leadership environment he liked to create tended to approach the edge of chaos… but a focused chaos. A “chaotic” style goes with the fighter-pilot ethos, partly because fighting in air-to-air battles is by definition chaotic; partly because a fighter pilot’s quickness of mind thrives in situations where inputs are many and varied and come lightning-fast; and partly because fighter pilots are themselves notably chaotic.

Wherever I went, if I didn’t find chaos, I made it. Or else I did outrageous things. Why? Because I was goddamned if I was going to let anybody control my life. And that was an outward sign of letting people know that this is an individual. It’s a revenge against the uniformity of the military service.

? Yet Horner brought chaos down to earth and made use of it.

If you impose control to bring about order, then you will snuff initiative. My job was to exploit professionals and to get them to produce their best. I had to focus them, while letting them be themselves. Sometimes this generated friction, conflicts, or even explosions. So be it. A little friction is the price you pay for getting everyone to feel free to act and to use their initiative and talents; and this was especially true of the highly spirited people I was usually lucky enough to command.

On the other hand, some kinds of friction can be nonproductive. So it’s very important to create the kind of environment where people can dislike each other yet remain civil. You need an atmosphere where they can debate and where you can get the best arguments from them; yet you have to make sure they don’t come to blows or fall into some kind of irrational rage. Sometimes my subordinates would gang up on me. And sometimes I’ d arrange situations that would make that happen. When I saw people getting too diverted by personal differences, I would turn myself into the enemy — not by doing anything hostile, but normally by humor with a sting in it… I had no plan here; it was just instinctive, situational; it was a gut thing.

I’ve learned to support my guts. I’ve learned to trust myself. Not that I always get it right. But you have to make decisions based on uncertainty. You have to make decisions when the evidence is not clear. The black-and-white decisions are easy to make; they’re nobrainers. If what to do or where to go is so clear-cut that anybody can recognize what to do, then you don’t need a leader to make a decision. The hard decisions are the ones where the results are fuzzy, and where there’s no convincing rationale to tell you that one way is right and the other is wrong. What I learned is to go with my instincts, even when other people had equally valid arguments on the other side of the issue.

? By the time he commanded the 47th TFW, Horner had come a long way toward internalizing and bringing to life these principles. He knew that he could create an environment where the NCOs and officers were permitted to tell the truth and give their unbiased opinion — and that his respect for them and trust in their judgment and integrity in those areas where they were experienced would lead them to make every effort to succeed and bring the unit along with them.

? Horner’s handling of his NCOs and officers was one of the most crucial aspects of his leadership.

Noncommissioned officers — sergeants — are the heart and soul of the Air Force. They run its day-to-day operations, and they are fiercely independent.

The NCO’s job is to manage the enlisted force, lead and train the young airmen, and enforce discipline. Within that frame, they don’t think a great deal about officers, except insofar as an officer can cause the NCO problems while he attempts to do his job. They love a good commander who gives them meaningful work to do, and they despise a commander who undermines the performance they are trying to enforce among the enlisted members of the wing. If a commander loses their respect, they’ll dismiss him as useless and wait out his time in office in the hopes that a good commander will come along.

Pity the poor officer who loses their trust. They can kill an outfit’s productivity and capacity just by doing little or nothing. They do not have to work against the commander, they only have to do the job as told… and the commander will not fly his sorties, pass his inspections, or win his war. On the other hand, the simple act of listening to their advice and their views pays huge dividends in gaining their respect and loyalty.

Another way to win their support is to fire the right NCO. It goes without saying that not all NCOs are good and productive. The NCOs know who is getting the job done and who is coasting, but they will never tell on a fellow NCO to an officer. Fortunately, good NCO leadership is easy to detect. The best NCO leader is usually so busy getting the job done that the commander can’t even find him unless he scours the flight line or back shops. There he will find clues: a clean wheel and tire shop; a hangar floor so scrubbed you can eat dinner off it; an office filled with pride, military courtesy, and helpful airmen; a motor pool where the vehicles are in good operating condition and neatly parked in straight rows.

The NCO who tells you how to run the wing, or finds a thousand faults with the way his boss is doing the job, is likely to be one with weak leadership skills and a bad attitude, and he or she needs to go before it infects the rest of the organization. That is why it is important that a new wing commander fire the right NCO. If he targets the NCO who is not carrying his weight, and is an embarrassment to the other NCOs, that wing commander has it made; the NCO force will make sure he is a success. If the hapless new wing commander fires the NCO he should recognize as one of the unsung heroes, then the other NCOs will at best perform cautiously. Why should they try extra hard if their boss is too stupid to know the difference?

So when a commander sees a unit that’s gone bad, he has to fire or reassign the leadership of the unit, firmly and without hysterics. It is the hardest thing to do in command, for he can never be certain that he has accurately identified the person truly responsible.

By way of illustration, Chuck Horner tells this story:

When I took command of the 47th wing at Nellis, I made some immediate changes that upset a few people. For starters, I sent NCOs who had been sitting in air-conditioned offices out on the flight line, with instructions given in private, “You’re going to do it right, or you’re going to retire.” Young airmen who’d been playing