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To: JF Quinnelly who wrote (14807)11/2/2003 7:40:11 AM
From: LindyBill  Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 793690
 
Gotta keep the discussion going.
_________________________________

How Iraq Was Won
By Bruce Berkowitz -Hoover Digest

The armchair generals were wrong and Donald Rumsfeld was right. Bruce Berkowitz on the new face of warfare.

Bruce Berkowitz is a research fellow at the Hoover Institution.

March 25 was probably the low point of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Coalition forces, which had rolled into Iraq against little resistance, began to pick up serious fire. And, to make matters worse, one of the biggest dust storms in memory immobilized the troops for two days. Many pundits, politicians, and retired generals started to claim the American war plan was ill conceived, half baked, and generally too risky.

The main complaint was that U.S. officials had supposedly failed to provide adequate forces for the mission. As a result, critics said, our lines were strung out too thin. Of course, the results eventually proved the critics wrong. After the dust storm cleared, U.S.-led forces got moving again and wrapped up the war in just three weeks. Casualties proved light. The fadayeen proved more a nuisance than a threat. By late April crowds were pulling down statues of Saddam throughout Iraq.


Clash of Cultures

Today it is hard even to understand what all the fuss was about. But knowledgeable observers knew that the controversy was not really just about the operations plan General Tommy Franks developed for Iraq. The critics were really attacking Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld’s policy of “defense transformation.”

Rumsfeld has pushed for smaller, more agile forces that can respond faster to crises. The policy has not always gone down well with many officers and politicians wedded to the status quo, and when U.S. forces bogged down, they seized the opportunity to argue their point.

To understand the controversy over defense transformation, it helps to consider a little history. Since the ancient Greeks organized their soldiers into phalanxes 2,500 years ago, combatants who could keep themselves in well-ordered formations had a clear advantage over their opponents. They could protect one another and concentrate their fire to destroy a target.

Traditionally, such armies had two basic ways to defeat their adversaries. One was to deliver men and munitions to the front faster that the enemy could destroy them. Battles were then decided by simple, grisly mathematics. An attacker either overwhelmed its opponent—or ran out of forces. Military planners in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries even had a rule of thumb: An attacker needed half again as many forces as the defender if he hoped to win.

The other approach was to move faster than one’s opponent could. The goal was to hit the enemy at its weakest points so that sheer numbers were less important. If an army was fast enough, it might race around the end of its opponent’s line, turn the corner like a running back, and attack from the side, where the opponent could not shoot back effectively,

These principles—win by firepower or win by maneuver—changed little over two millennia. Armies—and the battlefields they fought on—just gradually grew in size as better tech- nology came along. Longer-ranged weapons (bows and arrows, catapults, artillery, and, later, guided missiles) allowed armies to fire deadlier rounds from greater distances. Later, mechanization (railroads, then trucks, tanks, and, eventually, airplanes) enabled them to move faster.

So a Roman army might number 2,500 men and advance along a front that was about a mile and half long. In the Civil War, when the Industrial Revolution was just beginning, 90,000 Union soldiers met 75,000 Confederates at Gettysburg along a front that was about three miles long, from Culp’s Hill in the north to Little Round Top in the south. When Confederate troops attacked in Pickett’s Charge, they ran out of soldiers before they could break through the Union line. That decided the battle—a classic case of attrition warfare. The Confederates lost 20,400 men killed, wounded, or captured over four days.

During the next hundred years, armies mechanized further and battlefields quickly became much larger. When the British tried to break through German lines at the Battle of the Somme in 1916, they sent 750,000 men advancing across a front about 15 miles across. Using the first primitive tanks, they gained about 10 miles before running out of steam—suffering 420,000 casualties over four and a half months.

By 1944, armies had better tanks and had adopted airplanes. So when the German and American armies fought the Battle of the Bulge, they lined up along a front that was about 90 miles long, extending from the middle of Belgium to the tip of Luxembourg. The “bulge”—the German penetration—was 20 miles deep.

Even during the Cold War, armies still planned to fight this way. The math even remained the same; most experts believed NATO would hold if the Warsaw Pact had no better than a 50 percent advantage. And one rule remained constant: Armies had to maintain a minimum “mass.” If they were stretched too thin, they could not defend themselves. Just as important, commanders wouldn’t be able to control their forces because communications would break down.


Much of the criticism of Franks’s war plan came from retired army generals. The most notable was Barry McCaffrey, who expressed his views in the Wall Street Journal and on NBC. McCaffrey used the formal, understated tones of a general—but his message was clear. He wrote, “The ‘rolling start’ concept of the attack dictated by Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has put us in a temporarily risky position.” By military standards, that is a scathing attack; it accuses the secretary of defense of putting U.S. forces at risk by pushing a faulty strategy.

McCaffrey warned, “We face a war of maneuver in the coming days to destroy five Iraqi armored divisions,” with just one Marine infantry division and supporting units. He continued, “We should be fighting this battle with three U.S. armored divisions and an armored cavalry regiment to provide rear area security. We also have inadequate tube and rocket artillery to provide needed suppressive fires for the joint team.”

To be sure, McCaffrey believed that the superior training and professionalism of the Americans would prevail. But he cautioned, “If we shrink from using direct and overwhelming violence . . . we will risk thousands of casualties.”

“We are overextended and at risk. It is time to call up at least three U.S. Army National Guard Divisions for 36 months service along with significant Marine, Navy, Coast Guard and Air Force reserve elements,” he said. “Getting these reserve elements truly ready to fight is a six-month training challenge,” McCaffrey concluded. He had laid down his marker. In short, McCaffrey wanted to fight a completely different war—a traditional land campaign, taking as long as necessary to assemble an overwhelming force and then setting out in a single, synchronized, massive punch. This was the kind of war the Army had trained to fight in Europe during the Cold War and was mainly how it fought even as recently as Operation Desert Storm.

Events showed that McCaffrey was profoundly mistaken. The plan developed by Franks and urged on by Rumsfeld was hard to criticize in either form or implementation. Rather than the “thousands of casualties” McCaffrey predicted, U.S. and British forces suffered 159 combat deaths—tragic, of course, but a testimony to the effectiveness of the plan.


The Process of Military Reform

There is always tension between established military orthodoxy and reformers—both uniformed and civilian. Nonetheless, all military organizations have benefited from outside pressure. It was mavericks and outsiders that got armies to adopt tanks, navies to adopt dreadnoughts, and air forces to adopt unmanned vehicles. U.S. commanders were reluctant to adopt the “Left Hook” that outflanked Iraqi forces in 1991. It was civilians who rejected a head-on attack and pushed for options.

Today information technology is changing the traditional rules of warfare. It is less important for armies to concentrate firepower because modern weapons are so accurate. Just as important, during the past decade precision weapons have gotten cheaper. In Desert Storm, a jet-propelled cruise missile used two electronic guidance systems and cost about a million dollars. A less-complex laser-guided bomb might cost $50,000.

Today it is possible to make a smart bomb by combining a low-cost satellite guidance package with a conventional “dumb bomb” left over from the Korean or Vietnam War. The resulting weapon costs just $16,000. With precision weapons this cheap, American commanders hardly need to use anything but smart munitions.

Improvements in communications are at least as important as these improvements in weapons. Until the mid-1800s, the best technology was shouting, bugling, or messengers on foot or on horseback. In the Civil War, armies first used signal flags (wigwag) and telegraph. In the early 1900s radio came along; satellite communications arrived in the 1960s. Now, with cellular and fiber-optic networks growing like kudzu around the globe, it is possible to reach almost any aircraft, ship, or even a ground-pounding grunt reliably and instantly. Everyone can be stitched together by a communications grid that extends from the United States all the way into the enemy’s territory.

In fact, weapons are so deadly and communications so much better today that the rules are reversing themselves. Now armies have an incentive to spread out and conceal themselves so they are less vulnerable. Whoever happens to have a shot—aircraft, ship, or grunt—takes it and usually destroys its target instantly.

The trends are unmistakable and irresistible. The future of war lies with highly mobile, often stealthy forces running at the margins of endurance and linked with communications networks. Information technology is forcing all military organizations to adapt. Some armies are succeeding in making the change (for example, the Israelis and British). Others are struggling (for example, the French and Russians).

Even if we could fight wars in the traditional fashion—massing forces in set formation, as McCaffrey proposed—we wouldn’t want to. Traditional war—charging head-on into an enemy defense and hoping your unit has enough mass to overwhelm him—is incredibly costly and horrible. Americans today will not tolerate the casualties that accompany that kind of warfare. For that matter, they are reluctant to accept the moral responsibility for crushing our adversaries that way.

Network warfare is not antiseptic. But such agile networks can penetrate an enemy’s front lines and make precise, limited strikes at its weakest points, shortening the overall length of a war. This is the approach U.S. commanders used in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Traditional, wait-for-sufficient-mass warfare presents strategic and political costs, too. If American leaders wait until they have overwhelming force before resorting to military action, one could be sure that we would be much more constrained in taking any kind of military action at all. We would be unable to get the troops to the scene on time, and we could not count on having the kind of bases this strategy would require.

What is really troubling, though, is that terrorist groups such as Al Qaeda and rogue states have been so effective in this new form of warfare—especially if they target civilians or hide among noncombatants. Much of the new information technology is available to everyone. That’s why all military organizations are moving toward these network warfare tactics—as are terrorist organizations, as September 11 demonstrated.

Twenty years ago a command and control system combining satellite communications, cellular, and high-volume digital data links would cost millions of dollars. Now anyone with a credit card can rent one—by the minute. Which is exactly what Al Qaeda did. The next development in warfare may be a combination of these modern communications networks and tactics with chemical weapons, biological agents, or “dirty bombs,” designed to contaminate areas with radioactive material.

To deal with these new threats, all U.S. military organizations will need to adapt. Operation Iraqi Freedom was just one example of how they can.

www-hoover.stanford.edu



To: JF Quinnelly who wrote (14807)11/2/2003 7:49:21 AM
From: LindyBill  Respond to of 793690
 
it is far easier to be a liberal in the supposedly authoritarian military than to be a moderate or conservative on a college campus; students are more likely to be segregated by race in the lounges and cafeterias of “progressive” universities than they are in the mess halls of aircraft carriers.

What We Learned

Victor Davis Hanson Hoover Digest (originally published May 9th, 03, in National Review.)

A military historian discusses the lessons we learned—or need to learn—from the conflict in Iraq.

Victor Davis Hanson is a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution.

The First Peacekeeper Division?

The complexities of Panama, the Gulf War, Kosovo and Bosnia, Afghanistan, and the Iraqi War involved not just military challenges but postwar reconstruction and global opinion-making as well. In part, our problem arises from our very success and the intrinsic power of the U.S. military. We can take out rogue regimes within a matter of days or weeks without inflicting the level of pain, injury, and humiliation on enemy forces that traditionally rids opponents of any lingering doubts about the end of the old order and the onset of the new. In short, we win so quickly that some of the losers inevitably do not quite concede that they were really defeated.

As was the case in Afghanistan, our victory in Iraq was achieved so quickly that most enemies were more likely to run or surrender than fight, thus allowing a number either to drift back within the civilian landscape or to fool themselves into thinking we were far from being exacting victors. What a funny world for a soldier fighting Americans: One day in a trench can get you blown to smithereens by a GPS bomb; the next, after surrendering, you throw rocks at Americans in a street rally before international cameras with impunity.

To meet such challenges, perhaps it is time to create a permanent division-strength body of peacekeepers, police, and civilian reconstructionists. Their duties would be to follow the military into captured enemy cities and—within a matter of days, if not hours, rather than the current months—hunt down government criminals in hiding, keep order and security, provide the populace with food and water, resurrect infrastructure and utilities, and begin near-immediate resumption of television, radio, and newspapers. In theory, such a corps would include a variety of company-sized cohorts, from snipers and police to electricians and constitutional framers—and their tasks would be coordinated with the antebellum bombing planning. They would be the true “shock and awe” corps, restoring order so quickly after the dissolution of enemy forces that enemy opportunists and agents would simply have no time to organize and manipulate the inevitable confusion in the months of ensuing political instability.

A Truth in Broadcasting Statute?

We need legislation requiring journalists and reporters to publicly disclose the financial and political arrangements that they agree to in order to broad-cast or write from belligerent regimes at a time of hostilities. Nothing in the recent war was more appalling or unethical than the censored reporting that emanated from the Palestine Hotel. Only after Baghdad fell did millions of listeners and readers discover that their purveyors of information had been semi-hostages, controlled by “minders”—and willing to pay daily bribe money for the privilege of divulging half-truths and releasing misleading accounts. Had their audiences known fully about all such concessions in advance, they might have been better equipped to assess the “truth.” At the least, we can ask that American citizens not pay extortion money to enemy governments in a time of war. It is disturbing enough that none of our journalists in Iraq questioned Baghdad Bob’s veracity in their nightly reports but even more troubling to realize that their danegeld helped subsidize his rantings.

A Defense Cultural Advisory Board?

The military needs to create a civilian cultural advisory board as a supplement to those committees concerned with technology and policy. Scholars and intellectuals sympathetic to the military might develop policies and procedures to identify problems inevitable in the use of military force in a postmodern, therapeutic society. Scholars, for example, could have advised the military about the complexities that surrounded potential damage to cultural sites in Baghdad. Their duties could be both proactive—creating guidelines about protecting archaeological sites, dealing with cultural issues, and cultivating intellectuals, dissidents, and ministry officials—but also reactive, when tragedies such as the destruction of priceless icons unfold.

Untold damage was done to our cause by the hysteria surrounding the looting of the Baghdad museum. Officers on the scene made the case that men under fire can hardly be transmogrified into museum guards and that enough vandalism was done to a variety of petroleum installations and refinery offices to give the lie to the canard that we “saved the oil and let the museum be looted.” But a board of scholars could also have explained to the public that it is rare for a liberated people to ransack their own treasuries: The worries historically have surrounded the occupying force, from the fall of Constantinople (1453) to Berlin (1945) to Kuwait City (1990).

They could also have gotten the word out that archaeologists are not de facto superior beings: Those who worked in the museums of Iraq were precisely those who kept most quiet about Saddam’s own theft of antiquities and his use of national shrines for despicable contemporary propaganda purposes. The “178,000” destroyed priceless icons are slowly being downsized to a few hundred—and most were lost through the complicity of the Baathists themselves. And those rogues in the antiquities ministry who oversaw Saddam’s malicious and criminal “reconstruction” of Babylon—garish desecrations that made Arthur Evans’s misadventures at Knossos, or the Italian temple rebuilding in the occupied Greek islands during World War II, seem like child’s play—did far more damage to the cultural heritage of Iraq than the (mostly professional) thieves’ premeditated heists in Baghdad.

The Primacy of Politics

The military’s newfound mobility and flexibility are taking on more than merely tactical importance. The key in the twenty-first century will be the U.S. armed forces’ ability to project military power quickly almost anywhere across the globe—without granting humiliating political concessions or paying bribery to purported hosts, allies, and international institutions.

Large bases such as those in Germany, Turkey, and South Korea should be broken up, relocated, removed, or scattered into smaller, less-intrusive arms caches and depots with less-noticeable footprints. Aerial tankers, transport planes, and helicopters must be designated highest priority to ensure that assets can be deployed and maintained autonomously for extended periods.

A new criterion for basing should be as much political as geostrategic, inasmuch as the two are now inseparable. A base on, say, Diego Garcia island may be less ideally located than are bases in Turkey, Greece, or Saudi Arabia, but in the long run it entails fewer actual costs. In the Cold War, carriers were deprecated by submarine advocates as “sitting ducks”; today they are properly seen as priceless acres of sovereign American territory that can be shifted to any theater on the globe. In short, a critical question should be demanded of any new technology, strategy, or organization: To what degree does it enhance the ability of the United States to resort to military power without dependence on foreign governments (allied or otherwise) or multinational institutions?

Moving Beyond the United Nations

As long as U.N. action is predicated on the majority votes of illiberal regimes, or the single veto of undemocratic states like China, or the obstructions of envious, fourth-rate powers like France, it will remain either a debating society or a manipulative mechanism to thwart anything the United States does. It was about as effective in monitoring Saddam Hussein as the International Olympic Committee was in stopping the routine torture of the Iraqi Olympic team. Although we should seek drastic reform—admitting India, Japan, and Brazil to the Security Council, promoting statesmen reputed for their defiance of authoritarian governments as candidates for the secretary-generalship, insisting on democratic government as a requisite for full voting membership in the General Assembly, and distributing France’s Security Council veto across the entire European Union—we will probably have no alternative but to seek more permanent relationships with a coalition of the willing.

Eventually, some astute diplomat is going to make the obvious observation that English-speaking nations such as the United States, Australia, Britain, (Western) Canada, and India have defied popular wisdom and retained common cultural and historical affinities that only become more apparent in times of conflict—and could form the basis for a more permanent and formal alliance.

Final Observations

On a personal note, I have recently ended my year-long tenure as Shifrin Professor of Military History at the U.S. Naval Academy, and now return to a rather isolated farm in Selma, California. My first memory upon arrival in Annapolis on August 8, 2002—a time of Washington doom and gloom—was picking up a copy of Foreign Policy and reading the cover story, “The Incredible Shrinking Eagle: The End of Pax America,” in which readers were assured by Immanuel Wallerstein that “Saddam Hussein’s army is not that of the Taliban, and his internal military control is far more coherent. A U.S. invasion would necessarily involve a serious land force, one that would have to fight its way to Baghdad and would likely suffer significant casualties.”

As an outsider in Annapolis, the most notable impressions I have had since arriving are the surprising degree of self-criticism of the U.S. military and its willingness to welcome both internal and outside audit—and thus its abject contrast with two equally formidable institutions, the media and the universities, which really are shrinking and have indeed suffered “significant casualties” to their reputations. Again, it is far easier to be a liberal in the supposedly authoritarian military than to be a moderate or conservative on a college campus; students are more likely to be segregated by race in the lounges and cafeterias of “progressive” universities than they are in the mess halls of aircraft carriers.

In the past year I have met midshipmen, Air Force cadets, colonels at the Army War College, officers in the Pentagon, air and naval crews at sea, reserve and retired officers, and a variety of civilian defense analysts. Very few were triumphalist about their singular victories in Afghanistan and Iraq; instead, they were eager to dissect past plans, identify lapses, and encourage candid criticism—both operational and ethical.

Rather different from all that are the New York and Washington press corps and the culture of most universities. Many elites in these two latter institutions have throughout this crisis revealed lapses in both ethics and common sense. There is a general lack of contrition (much less apology) by prominent columnists and talking heads about being so wrong so often in editorializing about the war. Partnerships with fascist regimes were embraced by major American networks—and at home, elite critics got into bed with pretty awful antiwar organizations whose true agenda went well beyond Iraq to involve subverting the very values of the United States.

The media need to ask themselves some tough questions about their own rules of engagement abroad, the use of bribe money, and the ethical and voluntary responsibility of their pundits and writers to account to their readers, when they have for so long consistently fed them nonsense and error. Universities, in turn, must ask themselves fundamental questions about tenure and teaching loads: Why does tuition consistently rise faster than inflation; why is free speech so often curbed and regulated; and why did so many prominent professors, during the past two years, in a time of war, say so many dreadful things about their own military—from general untruths about “millions” of starving, refugees, and dead to come, to the occasional provocateur applauding the destruction of the Pentagon and wishing for more Mogadishus?

Compared to all that, I prefer the trees and vines on my farm.

www-hoover.stanford.edu