Fix Bayonets!

I have heard people reject military service as one of the least valuable of human endeavors. In my experience, these people are left-leaning elitists that would never place themselves in harms way for another human being, or any cause or idea more important than themselves. They are only capable of living in the comfort and safety provided by others. Whenever I heard such disparaging remarks, I immediately know that the speaker has never served in uniform, and most assuredly never served in combat.

Beyond its obvious lethality, war is a complex business and there is nothing easy or simple about it. It does not matter whether the foe represents a first rate nation, or a ragtag militia of a fourth-world cesspool. The battlefield is a crucible where everything capable of overwhelming human senses arrives suddenly, and at once. Only individuals that possess superior intellect, resourcefulness, quick wit, and determination have a chance to survive this onslaught and lead others to victory and safety. Combat without victory is only a temporary respite. The term for uncertainty of situational awareness in combat is Fog of War; within it, one not only finds ambiguities about their own capability, they also find confusion about the capacities of their opposing force.

“War is an area of uncertainty; three quarters of the things on which all action in war is based are lying in a fog of uncertainty to a greater or lesser extent. The first thing needed here is a fine, piercing mind, to feel out the truth with the measure of its judgment.”

—Carl von Clausewitz

The Marine Corps instructs its personnel to expect murkiness and confusion in combat. In fact, squad leaders begin to worry at anytime events seem to progress as planned. We do not relegate confusion to small unit leaders, for even higher commanders must confront and conquer confusion and doubt. Anxiety stems from not knowing the enemy’s strength, his intention, or his mission. These things will reveal themselves in time and so what must then transpire is reliance on the employment of sound tactics and aggressive, albeit thoughtful action. In the Marines, this equates to locate, close with, and destroy the enemy by fire and maneuver. All combat organizations should expect a dearth of information about the enemy, as previously noted.

Here is one good example of the fog of war, recounted from World War I:

On July 14, 1918, the U. S. 30th Infantry held a defensive sector south of the Marne, with its com­mand post in the Bois d’Aigremont. The reinforced 1^st Battalion defended an area north of the Fossoy-Crézancy Road. Companies B and C out posted the riverbank from Mézy to the Rû Chailly Farm. The rest of the regiment, reinforced by two additional companies of the 38^th Infantry, had organized the Bois d’Aigremont in depth.

Communications between the 1^st Battalion and the regiment included two independent telephone lines, one buzzer, one TPS (earth telegraphy), a projector, pigeons, and runners.

Near midnight on the 14th, American artillery opened a violent bombardment against the German line; a few minutes later, German artillery answered and in a few moments the entire 1^st Battalion area was under intense fires. Soon after the German bombardment had gotten under way, the battalion commander reasoned that a long-expected German attack had begun. The signal equipment was tested and found worthless. The CO ordered a rocket sent aloft calling for artillery fire on the north bank of the Marne because it was impossible for anyone to tell whether the American artillery was even firing. He periodically continued to send up rockets, signaling a request for artillery support. The CO also sent runners to his three subordinate companies informing them of an expected German attack; informing them that they must hold their positions.

At 0200, an excited runner arrived at the Battalion CP n from Company C. He reported the presence of an overwhelming German force at the company location and swarms of Germans between the Battalion CP and front line units. A few moments later, another runner arrived reporting the destruction of two full platoons within Company B; the company commander urgently requested reinforcements. The Battalion Commander realized the folly of attempting to move troops through forest in darkness during artillery barrage. Accordingly, he made no move to reinforce Company B. Finally, a messenger arrived from Company A, informing the battalion commander that all of its officers had been killed. Runners sent out for additional information never returned.

At dawn, the battalion commander sent out four officers’ patrols. One of these, commanded by the battalion intelligence officer, returned shortly and reported that a hostile skirmish line was only fifty yards in front of the woods. In view of these alarming reports, the battalion commander decided to move his command post 500 yards to the rear. He believed this location would facili­tate better control and greater access to runners. He sent messengers to subordinate units informing them of this change of location. The Commanding Officer of Company D construed this message to mean that the Battalion was retreating, and so he withdrew his company to the Bois d’Aigremont via Crézancy. The battalion commander was unaware of this movement at the time.

At this point, the 1^st Battalion commander received a message from regiment asking for his report on the situation. From the context of the message, it was clear that the Regimental Commander had not received any of the messages sent back over the previous five hours.

Although the battle had only been in progress for a few hours, the battalion commander had no idea about his own front line, or that of the enemy. He did not know the status of his forward units; he was unaware of the situation on his flanks. He had to decide what to do based on reasoned judgment, and he had to rely on common sense and previous training. While true that situational awareness does provide challenges in the business environment, nothing quite compares with this —which is not atypical of any hostile action.

The battalion commander in the foregoing case was Major Fred L. Walker, who retired as a major general in 1946. I am quite certain that as Major Walker left his regimental commander’s office with maps in hand, he had a very clear idea about the mission assigned to his 1^st Battalion. I am equally certain that when the company commanders left Walker’s office with maps in hand, they too had a good idea about their sectors of responsibility. No matter how well the planning process, everything goes to hell the moment the first shot is fired … and this is just the beginning of that terrible fog.

The official mission of the United States Marine Corps is to serve as an expeditionary force in readiness, as outlined within the National Security Act of 1947, with three primary areas of responsibility: Seize or defend advanced naval bases and other land operations in support of naval campaigns, the development of tactics, techniques, and equipment used for amphibious operations in coordination with the Army and Air Force, and to fulfill such other duties as the President of the United States may direct.

Given the fact that the President of the United States is the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States, that last clause (above) may appear to some as a redundant mission, but “…other duties as the President may direct” has been specifically addressed to the Marines since 1798, reaffirmed in 1834 and 1951. The Marine Corps has more often than not performed combat operations of a non-naval nature since Tripoli, the War of 1812, the battle at Chapultepec, numerous campaigns in Central America and the Caribbean, during World War I, and the Korean War. The common thread for each of these is that the President of the United States ordered the Marines to perform them —but of course, this was back when we still had a commander in chief.

The Marines, as with its sister service the U. S. Navy and other branches of the Armed Forces, continually develop, review, exercise, and modify (as necessary) various contingency operations plans at locations throughout the entire world. It is this process of operational planning that enables Marine Corps commands to “execute” combat operations within a short time frame once the national command authority that combat operations are necessary. This is what happened in 1965 —sort of.

In January 1965, Fleet Marine Force headquarters placed the 3^rd Marine Division (Okinawa) on alert status. Brigadier General Frederick J. Karch, a veteran of several amphibious operations during World War II, was then serving as the Assistant Division Commander of the 3^rd Marine Division, was detailed to form a brigade around the 9^th Marine Regiment, designated 9^th Marine Amphibious Brigade [1]. In 1965, the 9^th MAB consisted of 1^st Battalion, 9^th Marines and 3^rd Battalion, 9^th Marines —both of which were at sea with the US Navy’s Task Force 76, then called an amphibious ready group (ARG).

Five months following the Gulf of Tonkin incident, Lyndon Johnson [2] was still struggling with having to make a decision about the US role in South Vietnam. A flurry of messages between Washington, Hawaii, and Saigon served to confuse the alert status of the Marines. By the end of January, General Westmoreland (Commanding the Military Advisory Command, Vietnam) requested that Admiral Ulysses S. Grant Sharp [3] (Commander in Chief, Pacific) support him by stationing the US Seventh Fleet off the coast of Vietnam for an extended period. With nearly forty years service in the Navy, Admiral Sharp knew better than most that the only thing gained from keeping Marines penned up aboard ship is that it makes them testy. Accordingly, Admiral Sharp declined Westmoreland’s request, offering instead a 72-hour window.

Meanwhile, General Karch was flying back and forth between Okinawa, the Special Landing Force Camp at Subic Bay, and Saigon attempting to plan training exercises in Thailand, and concurrently, making final plans for possible combat operations in Vietnam.

In early February, Viet Cong forces attacked a US compound at Pleiku in the Central Highlands. They killed nine Americans, wounded 128, and damaged or destroyed 122 aircraft. Higher authority ordered the Marines to station a battery of HAWK missiles at Đà Nẵng as part of a defense shield. The movement of one battery was no easy task; it required 27 aircraft to move personnel and equipment from Okinawa to Đà Nẵng.

Operational reappraisals were occurring almost by the minute in Washington, Hawaii, and Saigon. President Johnson sent a delegation to Vietnam to confer with Westmoreland and Ambassador Maxwell D. Taylor and determine the feasibility of airstrikes against North Vietnam and the likely impact on the communists operating in RVN. It was McGeorge Bundy’s recommendation that Lyndon Johnson develop a “sustained reprisal policy.” And, whereas Westmoreland earlier concluded that the introduction of combat forces would only make matters worse in Vietnam, the Pleiku attack seemed to suggest that the insurgency had taken a new direction.

The internal power struggles continued in South Vietnam; no one was quite sure who was in charge of the government in any given hour of the day. President Johnson decided in mid-February to approve a “limited and measured” air campaign against the North Vietnamese, which the US military would refer to as ROLLING THUNDER. General Westmoreland made up his mind about the number of ground troops needed to defend the air base at Đà Nẵng. He submitted a request to the JCS on 22 February for a 3-battalion Marine brigade. By this time, General Karch and two battalions were afloat off the coast of Vietnam. At the end of the month, President Johnson approved a two-battalion brigade with the mission to protect Đà Nẵng airbase from enemy intrusion.

Brigadier General Karch met with General Westmoreland on 25 February 1965 to discuss the plan for a Marine landing at Đà Nẵng. Two days later, Karch met with the Vietnamese I Corps commander, Major General Nguyễn Chánh Thi (the virtual warlord of South Vietnam’s five northern-most provinces). As Karch and Westmoreland’s operations officer, Brigadier General William E. DuPuy were arriving at Thi’s headquarters, he noticed the presence of a New York Times reporter within the compound. DuPuy told Karch, “This is not a good sign.” Moments later, a phone call from Saigon ordered DuPuy, “Get Karch and his staff out of Vietnam as soon as possible.”

Karch and his staff returned to Subic Bay, and then flew back to Okinawa. I can see everyone in Karch’s party scratching their heads and muttering obscenities. At about the same time as this was taking place, the US Department of State cabled Ambassador Taylor and ordered him to seek RVN’s pre-approval for a Marine landing. For two days, Taylor wrangled with various Vietnamese officials. Some of these had no objection to the employment of Marines at Đà Nẵng, but voicing concern for the reaction of local citizens, the official request was that the Marines come ashore “inconspicuously.”

I served as a Marine for 3 decades; in all that time, I never saw an inconspicuous amphibious landing. The RVN demand caused US officials in Washington to reconsider using the Marines at all. Instead, Assistant Secretary of Defense John McNaughton suggested using the 173^rd Airborne Brigade. It could land at Đà Nẵng in the middle of the night and, in the absence of tanks, amphibian tractors, heavy weapons, and a bad case of attitude, no one would even know the brigade had arrived.

To their credit, both Westmoreland and Taylor objected to the employment of a light infantry brigade: the Marines were self-sustaining and had participated in the development of Operation Plan 32 (Vietnam) and a number of related contingencies, since 1959. Admiral Sharp sent a message to the JCS that might have sounded a bit like this: “The Commanding General, 9^th MAB is already at Đà Nẵng, for Christ Sake!” By 7 March, the national command authority overruled all previous objections to landing Marines in Vietnam. The way was clear —the war was on.

Should anyone wonder if there is a point to this essay, it is only this: to illustrate why the Vietnam War had such an unhappy ending for the United States. Defensive strategies always do.

 

Notes:

[1] In the Marine Corps, brigades are non-permanent organizations tasked for specific missions. The size of a Marine Brigade may vary from two battalion landing teams to two regiments, with aviation and logistical support units attached. Today, the term “expeditionary” replaces the term “amphibious.”

[2] During World War II, Lyndon Johnson asked for, and received, a naval reserve commission as a lieutenant commander. Initially relegated to inspecting navy shipyards in Texas and Louisiana, Franklin Roosevelt decided to use Johnson to spy on Douglas MacArthur in the Southwest Pacific. From this sojourn emerged several interesting fairy tales about Johnson having been attacked by the Japanese, but none of these has any greater credibility than the imagined attacks against Hillary Clinton during a taxpayer funded junket to the Middle East. Some claim that Lyndon Johnson was the model for a fictional character Commander Neal Owynn (played by Patrick O’Neal) in the Otto Preminger film In Harms Way.

[3] Admiral Sharp was highly critical of US policy in the Vietnam War. In 1969 he authored an article titled We could have won in Vietnam Long Ago, and in 1978 he published a book titled Strategy for Defeat: Vietnam in Retrospect.

By LtCol William C. Curtis, USMC (Retired)

It must have been about 0600.  While reveille was supposed to “go” at 06, most of the troop handlers got their trainees up earlier because there was always so much to do, and so little time in a day to get it all done.

Looking out from the company office (S Company, 1st Infantry Training Regiment  (ITR)) I could barely see in the dark winter morning the long lines stretched behind the laundry trucks.

Note of explanation: In 1964, most Marines in the Fleet Marine Force and training units wore sateen utilities, the prescribed uniform for work in the field.  Marines being meticulous about almost everything had their utilities washed, starched and pressed at local laundries.  These laundries did a thriving business aboard the huge Marine Base (Camp Lejeune) located cheek by jowl with the (then) small town of Jacksonville, NC.  Six days a week laundry trucks would come to many locales on the base and thousands of Marines would line up to turn in dirty utilities and then in a day or two line up again in the early hours to pay for clean, starched and pressed uniforms.

This had been going on for some years and I had not heard any complaints.  But then, I suddenly did begin to hear grumbles.  I was a Sergeant with seven years service, and most of my trainees, having recently completed recruit training at Parris Island, were now in NC for the follow on combat training with a variety of weapons.  These very long days often ended late a night. The mission of troop handlers was to ensure nothing interfered with our mission of training Marines.  Trainees had to be in their designated classes, which were always in the field, on time. This frequently meant speedily marching Marines for more than an hour. Trainees also had to receive their meals on time. Accounting for all hands was a constant. The list of necessary tasks is too long to include here, but suffice to say that I would be “riding herd” on over two-hundred young Marines for most of the day.

Here is where my story takes a twist: the above paragraph generally describes what transpired in all training companies at the 1^st ITR, but our company was unique. While the 200 Marine trainees to a company was the rule, Company “S” was an exception. Our company commander and first sergeant commanded up to 1,200 Marines in training—about the same strength one might find in an over-strength infantry battalion. The reason for this is that S Company was responsible for training Six Month Reservists. These were young men who joined the Marines, performed six months of active duty, and then spent the rest of their enlistments back home at a Marine Corps Reserve Training Center. Each year, these Marines would serve an additional 14 days of active duty for training. In time of war, they would augment the regular Marine Corps. For some, it was an acceptable alternative to the draft.

The reader must now imagine that the Duty Troop Handler would be dealing with a huge number of trainees in the very early morning and late at night.  The rest of the troop handlers would arrive in time to supervise the cleaning of barracks, morning muster, marching Marines to the mess hall, and ensure that all hands were properly uniformed and equipped for training prescribed for that day. Troop handlers would accomplish all of these things before morning colors, at 0800.

In addition to essential combat training, Marines at ITR are transitioning from their experiences at boot camp and the real Marine Corps. Their brains need re-wiring, so to speak. At this stage of a Marine’s service we want them obedient to older, more experienced noncommissioned officers without the trauma associated with boot camp.  Of course, Marine Corps drill instructors are legendary—and for most Marines, scary fellows. The NCOs in regular units are not supposed to be scary to anyone. They are more like older brothers.

Still, our trainees were always in a rush. Returning now to the laundry trucks, our young fellows would rush to the back of the laundry trucks, form a line, and wait to turn in or receive back their uniforms. The laundry employee (mostly the driver) would take the laundry ticket, disappear into the van for a moment or two, and then inform our Marines that he could not find their uniforms: check back tomorrow. As there were always long lines of Marines waiting their turn, it was standard for the young Marine to mutter “Okay” before heading back to the company area. He did not have the time to argue or demand that the laundry driver check again.

Well, folks, I hope you see where this is going.

As a Sergeant, I had more time and was at least a bit less in awe of my elders.  Furthermore, civilians hardly ever make a good impression on sergeants. By this time in my career, I had already served as an Admiral’s orderly aboard an aircraft carrier on the West Coast, had sailed to many of the more well known ports in Asia during my first hitch (3 years) and then on re-enlisting for four more years, I was trained and then served at two Embassies in Europe (Rome and Oslo).  While I was hardly a crusty veteran, I had dealt with high-ranking officials in the military and diplomatic corps.  Naturally, most of the young trainees thought I was “old” and were in awe of nearly anyone with more than one stripe of a PFC.

Now my story turns again.  I was standing at the window of the company office, drinking a mug of coffee, observing the massive movement of trainees running between their barracks and separate heads, and a huge dirt parking lot where the laundry trucks were parked. There were two trucks —which is important to my story; two trucks, two laundry companies, providing the exact same service. There were enough trainees for more than one company. This was capitalism at its finest.

Several of the more mature trainees who were also billet holders (acting as NCOs within the training platoons) approached me. They informed me that at one of the laundry trucks too many trainees were not having their laundry returned. The situation imposed a significant hardship for low paid young Marines.  I had no idea why they were not getting their utilities back, but I was going to find out.

I walked out into the crisp (that is code for too cold) air and headed for the laundry trucks. Trainees were leaping out of my way in the darkness, and I approached the back of the truck, which was the point of sale.  The trainees went from loud talking to a quiet murmur.  The civilian truck driver suddenly realized that someone other than trainees was present.  I know, a buck Sergeant is hardly a colonel or general, but in these circumstances, a Sergeant was a “big stick”.  I identified myself and asked why so many Marines were not getting their uniforms back.  It went back and forth a bit without rancor.  After, a minute or two of verbal fast dancing by the truck driver, my voice increased a few octaves, my words a bit more clipped.  He could see that things were not going his way.  He moved just a bit closer to me and lowering his voice said, “Look, Sergeant, I will take care of this.  I will see what the trouble is and….listen…you bring your utilities to me and I’ll have them done free.  OK?”  I am not sure those were the exact words, but it was close.  The laundry was stealing or destroying young Marines uniforms and not compensating them because they knew that could get away with it.  And then when confronted by a junior NCO speaking in their behalf, the driver attempted to bribe said junior NCO, also known as me.

I looked at him for two seconds and responded: “Right, why don’t we drive over to the Provost Marshal’s office right now and you can repeat what you just told me to Duty Provost Sergeant?”  Well, he went very quickly into the “Oh, no.  You misunderstand.  I wasn’t wanting to do anything wrong here.  I want to make sure these Marines get what they paid for and —.”

Well, I knew and he knew that I knew that he was a lying snake and he suspected that nothing good was going to come from messing around with me.  I jumped back down out of the back of the truck and saw that many trainees had gathered around and had witnessed the entire event.  I walked calmly (outward appearance is important) back to the company office.

As I entered the office, I noted that some of the other troop handlers had arrived; I told them the story.  I also told them my plan.

After getting them all together, we agreed as to what was to be done.

Troop handlers would talk to their troops and suggest that they boycott the offending laundry company. Yes, the line would be twice as long behind the competitor, but we would compensate for that. We knew that the trainees would pass along the story of how their NCOs were taking care of them. We were empowering the Marines, and they liked it.

The next morning, in the dark, the line forming behind the offending laundry truck was much shorter than it was behind his competitor. The day after that, the line shrank even more. By the fourth or fifth day, the truck operated by the lying snake no longer came to Camp Geiger. He realized that his days were over at the 1^st Infantry Training Regiment.

I have no idea how long ITR Marines boycotted the dishonest company. I know it lasted for a few more months. The company lost a lot of money—in 1964 dollars—but readers ought to know that this kind of treatment of young servicemen goes on far too much.  Good officers and good NCOs are alert to it and they talk with their young charges and warn them of the dangers of dealing with the all too friendly people that surround most military bases. I received a few accolades from the other troop handlers, and some of the more daring trainees offered their thanks.

Sometimes justice does prevail.

“Be a man of principle. Fight for what you believe in. Keep your word. Live with integrity. Be brave. Believe in something bigger than yourself. Serve your country. Teach. Mentor. Give something back to society. Lead from the front. Conquer your fears. Be a good friend. Be humble and self-confident. Appreciate your friends and family. Be a leader and not a follower. Be valorous on the field of battle. Take responsibility for your actions.”

—Major Douglas Alexander Zembiec, USMC

These are noteworthy sentiments. We would expect to receive such advice from our father or grandfather, particularly if either had served in the military during time of war. But these are the thoughts of a 30-something officer who became known throughout the Marine Corps as the Lion of Fallujah. He was speaking to his Marines while in command of Company E, 2^nd Battalion, 1^st Marines.

Fallujah was a troubling location from the outset of the US invasion of Iraq in 2003. The community was a beneficiary of the economic policies of Saddam Hussein, there was hardly any unemployment in the city, but none of the people living in Fallujah seemed to be particularly loyal to Hussein, either. It was a traditional and very religious community.

US Army units entered the city in April 2003 and almost immediately, things started going downhill insofar as good relations with the inhabitants was concerned. Between 23 April and 28 April, 17 Iraqis were killed and 70 more injured when shooting erupted between US soldiers and protesting locals. Each side claimed that the other started the shooting. Three more deaths resulted from an incident near the Ba’ath Party headquarters. The 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment replaced the 82nd Airborne troops in June and they too came under attack. Insurant activity steadily increased through the end of March 2004, culminating on the murder of four Blackwater civilian contractors whose mutilated bodies were hung from a bridge. Marines were dispatched to Fallujah on 3 April 2004.

Then captain Zembiec and Echo Company was assigned to the Jolan District of Fallujah. His Marines were situated on a rooftop and they were taking fire from AK-47 semi-automatic rifles and rocket propelled grenades. The Marines severally attempted to radio for support from an Abrams tank (below them) to fire on the enemy position, but they were unable to make contact. Suddenly, Zembiec leaped up and rand down the stairs, out into the street under a hail of enemy gunfire. From the rooftop above, Gunnery Sergeant Pedro Marrufo observed the captain leap upon the tank and was able to get the tank commander’s attention from inside. While under intense enemy fire, Zembiec directed the tank fire into the enemy position. Leading from the front is how Zembiec’s men remembered him.

In May 2007, Zembiec was serving with the CIA Special Activities Division in Iraq. He was leading a force of Iraqi soldiers, who he had helped train, and they were carrying out a raid in the dark of night. Moving into an alley, Zembiec saw something, or heard something, or sensed something … he quickly warned his troops to “get down.” And then a shot rang out from the darkness, and Doug Zembiec fell, mortally wounded. A firefight ensued, and when it was over, a radio report went out, “five wounded, one martyr.” Leading from the front —the hallmark of a true American hero; in keeping with his own advice: be valorous on the field of battle.

Major Zembiec was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates later remembered him with these words. “The crowd of more than 1,000 [at the funeral] included many enlisted Marines from his beloved Echo Company. An officer there told a reporter, ‘Your men have to follow your orders; they don’t have to attend your funeral.’ Every evening I write notes to the families of young Americans like Doug Zembiec. For you, and for me, they are not names on a press release, or numbers updated on a web page. They are our country’s sons and daughters. They are in a tradition of service that includes our forebears going back to the earliest days of the republic.”

Major Zembiec believed in something bigger than himself; it is how he lived his life; it is how he died. May God bless and keep him.