home).
At the same time, the commanders knew when I was coming and that I would be asking about how the troops were being taken care of. Although they all knocked themselves out to take care of their own troops, it helped when they could go to the local host commander and say, “You know about those gym privileges you were going to give my women on Wednesday nights? Well, General Horner is coming tomorrow, and I know he is going to beat me up about that. So can you help me out?” And General Mohammed (not a real name), who had been avoiding the issue, since he did not want women in his gym on Wednesday nights because his own troops couldn’t use it then, would say something like, “Yes, I think it is a wise thing for the women to have use of the gym one night a week. But you must make sure that the doors are guarded and that no men are allowed to see them in their sports clothing.” (By men, he of course meant his own men, some of whom would have been offended at the sight and might have complained to the local religious police.) But his real message was more like, “Okay, you got me, because your request is reasonable and I am your host. And besides, I don’t want you to tell Horner that I am not helping you out, because he might go back to Behery and then I’d get chewed out.”
To sum up, my job in Riyadh was to serve the CINC and form the Coalition. My job as a commander was to care for the troops. And my job as the JFACC was to provide for vision and esprit de corps.
Just about everything I watched over was of course the responsibility of someone in the staff. For example, Bill Rider in logistics, Randy Witt in communications, and Randy Randolph, the surgeon, had specific responsibilities in areas such as fuel, munitions, spare parts for Rider; lines of communication, message traffic flow, equipment status for Witt; and public health, hospitals, and medical evacuation plans for Randolph. I didn’t know anything about these matters — all of which are pass/fail in war — but I knew enough to know when they had all the bases covered; and I could help them get what they needed when they were having problems with their counterparts back in the States.
Though rank is not that big a deal in the Air Force, and we are taught that getting the job done is more important, still, each of these deputies was a colonel, while their counterparts in the States were two- or three-star generals. Thus, there was friction now and then. The folks in Europe and the States busted their asses to help us, but sometimes they had a different appreciation for what we needed than we did. Sometimes, in honest differences of opinion, a general tends to think he is more right than the colonel way out there in Riyadh. Well, if I sided with my colonel, then the guy back in the States had no choice but to give in; for ours was the only show in town, and the Chief of Staff of the Air Force was not only my dear friend, but he sure didn’t want Schwarzkopf telling Powell that the Air Force was not supporting their troops in the field. Keep in mind that I did not throw my weight around, but I was well aware of the power I had, and I didn’t hesitate to indicate a willingness to use it when it was appropriate to do so. In the process I hurt a few feelings, but only those that needed to be hurt.
General Mike Dugan became Chief of Staff of the Air Force in August 1990, taking over from General Larry Welch. The two men could not have been more different. Welch was shy, retiring, and shunned publicity, while Dugan was outgoing, flamboyant, and courted the press. He was also blazingly candid, and had a striking aptitude for putting his foot in his mouth.
In September, Dugan made a trip to Riyadh during the same week Colin Powell was in the Kingdom for update briefings (as Chief of Staff, Dugan’s relationship to CENTAF was at best indirect, and thus the reason for the visit was of tenuous validity). The Chairman arrived on the scene quietly, bringing with him only an aide. Dugan arrived with an entourage, including several press people. Both the trip and the entourage were probably innocuous in themselves, though General Powell no doubt noticed and disapproved. Later events would cast them in a somewhat more sinister light.
In fairness to General Dugan, we should point out that he felt General Welch’s inaccessibility had prevented the Air Force from gaining its fair share of press coverage. His own aim, therefore, was to build the Air Force’s credibility with the media. And he had courageously set out to present the USAF as it was — good, bad, and ugly. Looking later at the events of September, Chuck Horner is convinced that Dugan brought reporters along on his visit not for the sake of polishing his own ego, but to give the press an opportunity to see and highlight the men and women of the Air Force in the desert.
In preparation for the visit, Horner asked General Schwarzkopf if Buster Glosson could brief the air campaign to General Dugan. The answer was a surprising no, owing to the CINC’s deep concerns about security. This was not intended as a slight. Security was (and had to be) tight. So, for example, when Powell was briefed, Lieutenant General Tom Kelly, the J-3 of the joint staff, was left out. Because he was not cleared, he was not told about the plan. Schwarzkopf undoubtedly was also far from eager to have Washington brass second- guessing him or trying to run his war — certainly well-founded concerns.
Nevertheless, Horner insisted. “After all,” he told the CINC, “this is the Air Force leader and a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. And it will mostly be Air Force people who execute this plan.”
And Schwarzkopf finally relented.
The briefing itself pleased Dugan. In fact, it would have been hard for him not to like it. The information held no surprises for an airman, and indicated that Horner, Glosson, and the Black Hole gang had developed a thoughtful, executable plan.
During the flight back to Washington, however, the affair began to turn messy. General Dugan (undoubtedly in an expansive mood following his successful visit) discussed with members of his press entourage what might happen if an air campaign were to be launched against Iraq. The remarks were generalized and broad. He simply described how any airman would have conducted war against Iraq at this time and place, information every airman knows as well as he knows his own skin. In the process of describing the upcoming battle, it was clear that the Army would play second string behind the Air Force’s lead (another act that was later given a somewhat sinister interpretation in some camps, though in the event it turned out to be correct).
Unfortunately, there is only one really good way to conduct an air campaign, which meant Dugan was guilty of giving away secrets. And there is no doubt that Dugan gave out information that had been outlined in specific detail in the air campaign plan briefing; and that he had made inferences and remarks which could have been taken as disrespectful to the Army, Navy, and Israel. There is also no doubt that keeping Saddam Hussein ignorant of U.S. war strategy made absolute sense; to do otherwise jeopardized the lives of pilots.
So in telling the airpower story, he gave away secrets, put down the Army, and was crucified for it. As the old children’s joke has it, “Open mouth, insert foot.”
On Sunday, September 16, the story broke in the Washington Post. An outraged Colin Powell called Schwarzkopf and Cheney. An outraged General Schwarzkopf called Chuck Horner, who shared his boss’s outrage. And the next day Secretary Cheney called Mike Dugan to fire him. He had paid for his foolishness by being relieved from duty.
The official reason for the public execution of General Dugan was his revelation of secrets, and it is true, he was guilty of that. However, a case can be made that his real crime was insensitivity to the role of the CINC. It was Norman Schwarzkopf’s responsibility, not Mike Dugan’s, to describe how the air campaign in the Gulf Theater would be conducted. Dugan failed to appreciate that. Even his trip to Saudi Arabia was of doubtful wisdom from the point of view of his command responsibility. Yes, he was Chief of Staff of the Air Force; but he was also out of the direct command loop of CENTCOM.
Chuck Horner says in summary:
I can tell you that while I love Mike Dugan as a close friend, I was hurt by his interview. First, even though both of us hate ego people (and granting that I am one myself), I felt he was on an ego trip. Second, I felt he had betrayed the trust I had put in him when I’d persuaded Schwarzkopf to let us brief him. But then, third, after I got my ruffled feathers back in place, I felt sorry for Dugan. I was surprised he didn’t act smarter. Why not? I believe he had been suckered in by his own enthusiasm and the euphoria and false expectations you get when you
