Military Leadership part 3: Stories Out at Sea

Posted on July 17, 2012 by psessum

By: Sean Peters

Date-time group: 211831Z MAR 88
Location: 2102N5 15807W1 – Pearl Harbor OPAREAS
Scene 1: USS Brewton (FF 1086) operations office. ENS Peters, the Electronics Material Officer (EMO) is having a discussion his department head, LT Brown (OPS), about the status of the AN/SPS-40B air search radar, which is inoperable.
Peters: Morning, OPS.
Brown: So, EMO, what’s the status of the 40 repair? It’s been down for quite a while now.
Peters: Umm, sir, they’re still troubleshooting it.
Brown: Actually, no they’re not. Your guys discovered late last night that the magnetron had failed, and we’re going to have to CASREP the thing because we don’t have the part in stock. I guess I don’t need to ask whether you’ve written the CASREP yet. How come I know more about this situation than you do?
Peters: …

Scene 2: USS Brewton OE division office, later that morning. ENS Peters is discussing the situation with ETC Bibb, the leading CPO for the division.
Peters: Chief, you’re killing me with this SPS-40 thing. How come you’re giving this info straight to OPS? I look like a dumbass now.
Bibb: Sir, you weren’t around. And he came in and asked. What was I going to do? I had to tell him something.
Peters: Umm, ok. Can you at least give me a call next time if he gets to you first?
Bibb: Sure thing, sir.
….

Date-time group: 062133 JUN 89
Location: 2150N8 15843W1 – near Kauai
Scene 3: USS Brewton (FF 1086) Engineering Log Room. The Chief Engineer (CHENG), LT Powell, is examining the tagout log. DC3 Fentress is on watch in the space.
(over the 1MC): [boson’s pipe]: Heads forward of frame 77 are secured until further notice.
Powell: That’s odd. Fentress, do you know what that’s about?
Fentress: No, sir.
Powell: Where’s Mr. Henderson?
Fentress: Haven’t seen him since quarters, sir.
Powell (via 21MC): Bridge, DC.
OOD (via 21MC): Bridge aye.
Powell: Why are the heads secured up forward?
OOD: We got a report that that the head in the forward crew berthing was overflowing, and the HTs were investigating. They requested heads be secured for the time being.
Powell: In the future, please be sure you discuss this kind of thing with me before making an announcement – the CO is going to be calling me for an explanation.
OOD: Bridge aye.
Powell (to Fentress): I’m headed for the forward CHT pump room to see if I can figure out what’s going on. If you see Mr. Henderson, have him join me up there.
Fentress: No problem, CHENG.
…

Scene 4: The forward CHT pump room. Two petty officers have removed a spool piece from a 6”, floor to ceiling pipe, and are ramming a device that resembles a large plumber’s snake into it. HT1 Loconte is supervising them. LT Powell enters the space.
Powell: Morning, HT1. What’s going on?
Loconte: Sir, the shitters in the forward crew’s head started overflowing, and we figured the problem was that this downcomer was blocked.
Powell (looks closer): Uhh, HT1. This pipe runs all the way to the forward head in officer’s country – it’s like 4 stories high. What’s going to happen when they…
Powell is interrupted by a flood of raw sewage, which splashes over everyone in the space and accumulates to a depth of a few inches on the deck.
Powell: God dammit. Ok, call up to Fentress and have some of your other guys get into their poopy suits and start cleaning this up. (weak laughter from the petty officers)
Powell (glaring at the petty officers): we’re going to have to clean ourselves up and report to sickbay for a gamma globulin shot.
…

Scene 5: Passageway through lower officer’s country. A fragrant LT Powell is on his way to his stateroom when LTJG Henderson (Damage Control Assistant, Division officer for R division) emerges from his stateroom.
Powell (attempting to maintain composure): Well, DCA. Explain yourself. What were you doing while I was supervising your troops?
Henderson (blinks several times): Uhhh, I was… keeping myself informed.
Powell (losing temper): YOU STUMBLE OUT OF YOUR STATEROOM, THIRD DEGREE RACK BURNS ON YOUR FACE, AND HAVE THE NERVE TO TELL ME THAT YOU WERE “KEEPING YOURSELF INFORMED”? (tirade goes on at length, about Henderson’s many shortcomings).
LTJG Henderson (not his real name) was relieved the next day, to be replaced by, uhhh, LTJG Peters. Also: “keeping oneself informed” became a synonym for “having a nap” for the rest of my time on the ship.

Date time group: 090332Z JAN 94
Location: 3654N8 07433W7 – Virginia Capes OPAREAS
Scene 6: USS Kalamazoo (AOR 6), conducting night underway replenishment (UNREP) with USS George Washington (CVN 73). The operations officer, LT Peters, emerges onto the signal bridge. SM2 Singletary and an SMSN are on watch.
Peters: Holy shit, it’s cold up here. I’m glad I put my coat on.
Singletary: Yes, sir. The QMs said it was down to 23. I heard it might snow later. I’m kind of surprised you could be up here, sir. Aren’t you busy during these things?
Peters: Actually, I get really busy setting it up and then getting us to the rendezvous, but once we’re on station, it’s all 1st LT and CHENG’s baby. Have you heard any news on your Seaman-to-Admiral package (author’s note: a commissioning program)?
Singletary: No sir. NC1 says it could take several months to hear.
Peters: Ok, well I’ll… (notices a blinking light from the carrier)… you got one coming in.
Singletary rushes to the flashing light station to assist the other watchstander, who’s still under instruction. They take down the message, returning occasional acknowledgement blinks as it comes in.
Singletary: Your timing is good, sir. This is their fire control officer, who wants to know if we can issue them this part (provides a chit with the message, including an NSN).
Peters: all right, I’ll go check. Do you need anything up here?
Singletary: well, sir, we could use some coffee, but the MS’s won’t give us any.
Peters: why the hell not?
Singletary: they said they had just washed the urns and weren’t making any more coffee right now.
Peters: God dammit, I’ll go grab the SUPPO.

Scene 7: USS Kalamazoo (AOR 6) wardroom. ENS Steele, communications officer and OC division officer, is watching a movie with some other junior officers. CDR Bird (SC), Supply Officer, is at the wardroom table looking at some paperwork.
Peters: SUPPO, I need some help. It’s like a billion degrees below zero on the signal bridge and the signalmen could really use some coffee.
Bird: Well, they can just call down to the mess decks.
Peters: They did that, but the MS’s turned them away. Said they weren’t making coffee right now.
Bird: those dumbasses. I’ll go have coffee sent up.
Peters: Can you also check to see if we can issue GW this part (hands SUPPO the chit)? We need to know real quick so we can get it to them before the UNREP is over.
Bird: I’ll check that right now too.
Peters: Thanks, SUPPO. I really appreciate it.
Peters: COMMO, can you step out into the passageway for a minute?
Peters (after stepping into passageway with Steele): Mr. Steele, have you checked on your signalmen lately? I don’t know if you heard my last conversation, but it’s cold as fuck up there.
Steele: Uhhh, no sir, I haven’t.
Peters: Well, I took care of their coffee situation. How about you go show some concern and go up there. Make sure they’re properly dressed. And wear a coat yourself.
Steele: Aye aye, sir.
…

The moral: junior officers, be with your troops. There’s a temptation to focus your attention on the meeting with the CO, or that paperwork you need to get taken care of, or getting your own qualifications squared away. And those things are important. But the action is with your soldiers/sailors/Marines/airmen. Sometimes they have information you need. Sometimes they’re not going about a job in the right way, which might get someone hurt. Sometimes their working conditions need to be fixed. Sometimes they need some horsepower from you to fix these things.
And sometimes, there’s not a thing you can really do to help, but you can still be there to at least share the misery with them. You care about their work and their well-being, right? Show it. Be with your troops. They need you.

Posted in Military Leadership | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Not All Military Losses Are in Combat, But All Are Remembered

Posted on July 14, 2012 by psessum

By: Sean Peters
Reprinted with permission from his Tumblr account.
I’ve been meaning to post this for some time but I haven’t done it because it’s hard. Some of y’all have posted your stories of loss and how it’s affected you. This is mine.

As background: the setup for this is that I went to Texas A&M and joined the Corps of Cadets in preparation for my military career. Freshman year was quite a lot like going to boot camp… for a year. Sure, there were intervals. We had a Christmas break, spring break, Sundays off, Saturdays off if there wasn’t a football game, etc. But in the meantime there was a lot of military activity. Uniform inspections. Formation twice a day. Pushups. Situps. Running. Mountain climbers. More pushups. Some considerable amount of getting screamed at. Learning to spit-shine shoes. Polishing brass. Not to mention the academic efforts involved in trying to get through your first year at college.

So there was a fairly high level of stress involved here. And while all this was going on, it was emphasized that your whole class was in this together. If anyone fucked up, the whole group sucked it up. It was expected that if anyone was having trouble, his classmates were going to carry his ass if necessary. So what that meant was that we developed a very strong bond with each other. I haven’t seen most of my classmates in a number of years but I would still take a bullet for them.

Sean and Joe as cadets in 1985

Joesph Walker Swinney and I started the program together, and at the time the picture was taken, had just put on our boots and spurs, and as seniors, were ready to assume our rightful place as the ruling class of the school (I’m the dork carrying the clarinet).

In addition to the freshman year stress, we had both lived through a bunch of heartache our junior year, when due to a bunch of political bullshit, we were both sweating what our cadet positions were going to be our senior year. We were roommates and spent some considerable amount of time crying on each others shoulders about the whole thing. In the grand scheme of things, this was really pretty meaningless, but it meant everything to us at the time. By the time this picture was taken, it was settled. I was going to get the position I thought I was going to get, he was going to be assigned one level lower, but was ok with it. We were on top of the world. And we could not have been any closer.

Right after the picture was taken, the term ended. Joe was an Army cadet, and in what was called the Simultaneous Membership Program… meaning he was in ROTC and the National Guard at the same time. So he was looking forward to a summer training program with the Army National Guard. I was due to leave for midshipman cruise in mid-June.

So a few days after this was taken, we went home, him to Dallas, me to Waupaca, WI. We talked by phone once or twice. I was aware that he was going to be leaving for summer training before I was, and was trying to figure out what his address was going to be so we could write (this was waaaaayyy before there was an Internet). I was never quite able to straighten that out, though.

Then: I’m asleep in bed one night, and the phone rings. It’s like 0100. By the time I’m fully awake, I can hear mom already heading for the kitchen to answer (again, waaaayyy before wireless phones, we only had one phone in the house). I hear her voice, talking low, then she comes to get me. It’s for you, she says.

Of course the obituary came later. That night, it was just Carol, Joe’s mom, crying and telling me he had been killed in a jeep wreck that day.

I was poleaxed. Because, you know, I had just been with him. The next week or so was a blur. I had to get to Dallas, do a wake for my best friend, be in the funeral (where, at the age of 20, I became a pallbearer for the first time), get on a plane back home, and get on another series of airplanes to the western Pacific for my cruise.

While I was deployed we pulled into the Philippines, Singapore. Thailand, and Hong Kong. All of this should have been fairly exciting for someone who had never been anywhere before, and to some extent it was. But mostly I was just kind of numb. After a month I came back home and promptly came down with pneumonia. I was down with that for several weeks, recovered, and went back to school. I thought I was ok.

But I wasn’t. I was able to do my military duties without too much difficulty, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care enough about academics to really get the job done. I wound up the fall semester with less than a 2.0 and on academic probation. This was sort of a wake up call.

I applied myself really hard the spring semester, and given that football season was over, I had more time to apply to academics. I got pretty good grades. Life was looking kinda good. I thought I was ok.

But again, I wasn’t. I rolled into my fifth year (yes, I packed four years of education in to five years of actual attendance, mostly because I changed my major, but partly because I was kind of a fuckup as a student). I thought I was over Joe’s death. But I wasn’t. I cried a lot. Drank a lot. Blew off class a lot. Net result: failed statistical mechanics. Failed thermodynamics lab. Got a D in quantum mechanics. Got indifferent C’s in everything else. Got hauled before the Colonel (CO of the NMCROTC unit) to explain myself. Of course there was no excuse. Was informed that I was heading to the Fleet one way or another after one more semester, so I’d better either unfuck myself or I was going to be wearing a crackerjack uniform.

So I did. Unfuck myself, I mean. Made up stat. mech. Got good grades in quantum. Threw myself at the feet of the dean and got him to accept some other courses in lieu of thermo lab. All this took time to arrange, and I was sweating it until a few weeks before graduation/commissioning, but I pulled it out, and walked across the stage. As was usual at the time, I was commissioned on the spot and got temporary orders to the NROTC unit, doing office work. After that I reported to the Surface Warfare Officer School Command Pacific, San Diego, CA, in early July 1987, for accession training.

That’s the story. So, 27 years later, it’s over, right? Mostly. I go for months at a time now not needing to think about this. For the most part, it’s like it didn’t happen. But: please don’t call me late at night, because a ringing phone after bedtime still scares me to death. Every now and then, I still get choked up. Because he died and I wasn’t even there to help him.

There are times, even at this late date, that I wish I could just forget about all this. But in the end the sadness is wrapped around all my memories of him. It’s all I have left. If I were to stop hurting over this, it would be the same as if I stopped caring. And I can’t.

I tagged a couple of y’all who have lost people, no doubt there are others. Some recently, some farther back. All I can tell you is that yeah, it never stops hurting. But after a while it’s not as bad. Even if it fucks you up a lot, eventually if you keep going you can live.

I hope this is helpful to someone. I’ve got to stop now, though, I’ve got something in my eye, again.

Posted in Real Heroes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

OPSEC, You Are Doing It Wrong

Posted on July 11, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Okay, maybe a little extreme but better than going too far the other way.


OPSEC, or Operations Security, is a very important thing in the military. Most people in the military have a good understanding of it, but the friends and families of military personnel often don’t get it. Most of the people that post pictures online are violating OPSEC and they don’t even know it.

I hate saying that anything is “classified” because I feel like it makes something seem cooler than what it is. Most soldiers and vets do not hold any secrets that are critical to national security but may have information that can be pieced together and reveal part of the larger picture. How many aviation units were in Afghanistan in 2007, 2009 and 2011 will show a pattern of building up or drawing down. This will not tell anything to your average citizen, but it could lead foreign government to reach certain conclusions about the intentions of the U.S. in the region.

Ways to NOT violate OPSEC: #1. Show pictures of past deployments. #2. Post pictures that do not show names, unit patches, vehicle bumper numbers and in some cases faces. #3.Photoshop out location names and signs or any indicators of place. #4 Don’t mention how long until coming home or how long deployed

If you have a picture of yourself or a loved from a previous deployment, there is little harm in posting it. It is information about current and future deployments that is a concern. Let’s be honest, all Afghans that live with a 20 mile radius of a remote outpost know that it is there. You are not revealing any information to local Taliban, mainly because they do not have computers or the internet. It is other groups that are the concern and what information you are telling them.

I saw a picture of a group of soldiers in front of a helicopter. The caption said that the location would not be revealed because of OPSEC. Click on the source and it takes you to a page that has a lot of pictures of soldiers from that deployment. Here is why this is bad.

First, by saying the location can’t be revealed I would guess that it the group is currently deployed. So already you have violated OPSEC especially if it can be determined where the unit is from.
Second, not every unit or firebase has helicopters. Just looking at the unit and kind of helicopter I can tell which branch of service it is. The kind of helicopter also would narrow down the unit.

Third, if the people have patches on their shoulder they are either Army or Air Force. Army patches can be Active, Reserve or National Guard. If it is a National Guard patch, someone can determine exactly where that unit is stationed. An active unit has limited places that patch is stationed. Even with the Big Red 1 all over Germany, not every unit has aircraft so it can still narrow down the location.

Forth, and this is kind of a big one, if other pictures on the tumblr account show the name tapes of the people or you give their full name and rank, you might as well just give the grid coordinates because OPSEC is gone. There is nothing wrong with blurring out the names. With Photoshop it can be done in a subtle way so that it doesn’t detract from the pictures.

OPSEC isn’t about giving away the name of one person deployed to Afghanistan. The importance of OPSEC is not to give away the big picture and your one piece of information might one small piece of the puzzle. I am going to make up a scenario.

A take on the WWII posters. Just a little bit of information can be used to get the bigger picture.

Let’s say that the U.S. drops out of the joint exercise in the Philippines. Someone comes across an “I’m proud of my Marine” account and sees pictures of a well dressed graduating boot. The next post says, “Tommy is going to DLI.” Knowing that one marine is going to the Defense Language Institute isn’t exactly front page news, but if there is a post saying that he is mad that he isn’t going to be learning Arabic, but they are expanding the Tagalog course and every new Marine is going there.

Those pieces of information might mean something. If we were backing out of a joint military exercise with a country, but sending more people to learn the language, with a few more pieces of information like Navy ships were docking anywhere near Manila anymore might be enough information to guess that there is a possible invasion, or that the U.S. is severing ties with the current government but is looking to be able to offer military support to an organization planning a coup.

Again, I just made this up in my head, but if that was the case an enterprising journalist or tech savvy terrorist could put the pieces together. When I saw the pictures I was pretty sure that within a half an hour I could get all the information I needed online to figure out where the unit was deployed to.

Pride in self, friends and family members is cool but understand that OPSEC is more than holding a picture that says “I am here!” The pictures I post are all of past deployments. No valuable information can be gleaned from them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to show support. Just take a few simple steps to prevent identification of forces that are in, or about to be in harm’s way. Blur out names, remove past posts that make it easy to tell the duty station and make pictures private that are identifiable (like in front of the unit HQ) for the duration of the deployment.

Your one piece of information might not compromise national security, but it can be one more piece that helps someone see the big picture. Even if we can’t see what the bigger picture is, a couple “likes” isn’t worth that.

Posted in Kicking Some Knowledge | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Why We Like to Shoot

Posted on July 10, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

One of the best ranges ever! Outside the wire at BAF. No gear, just shooting out into the open. Just blowing off some rounds and I didn’t even have to clean the weapon later!

When I talk about wanting to go shooting there is always someone that looks down on it. I usually just walk away when they start to talk about how can I enjoy something so destructive. I don’t walk away because I don’t like what they have to say, I walk away because I will never get them to understand that violence is the last thing on my mind what I am at the range. It is something only trained shooters and military members naturally get.

There was a veteran-turned-psychologist that put it best. He was giving a talk to local mental health practitioners and related a story of a former Marine that was having a lot of PTSD related anxiety issues. One day the marine came into the office calm and relaxed. The doc asked him what he had done and he said, “I went shooting yesterday.” People wondered how it can be healthy for a stressed out man to go shooting and be relaxed. The doc asked the crowd what is the first thing you tell someone to help them meditate.

“Close your eyes,” said a voice from the back.
“No,” the doc said, “Vets aren’t trusting enough for that.” I have to admit I nodded when he said that. Then the doc gave away the answer.
“Control your breathing,” he said.

That was it. He compared going to the range to meditating. From a veteran’s perspective, he is right. Breath control is one of the fundamentals of Basic Rifle marksmanship (BRM). I know the Marines have like 27 (okay that might be an exaggeration) but the Army only has four.
1. Body position
2. Point of aim
3. Breath control
4. Trigger Squeeze

I think the Navy has one fundamental, “Call a Marine” and the Air Force might be “Rifles? We drop bombs!” But I digress.

For those that have served, shooting is a meditative process. We seem to love it when Seattle Mariner Ichiro does his little bat dance. He is getting himself in the zone. Nothing matters, not the roar of the crowds, not the runners on base and not even the last pitch. This pitch, this ball, this moment is all that matters.

That is how I feel about shooting. You put me behind any M16 or M4 in the world and I will get the same exact sight picture. My chin will settle into the same spot, my nose will hover the same distance from the charging handle. It is automatic. If you were to take a picture from above on any given day at the range, my prone body will be in the same exact position. The meaty part of my finger will lightly touch the trigger. I will exhale, pause, fire and then inhale.

Nothing matters but that shot. Not the one before, not the one after, just that one round. It is about being totally in the moment. If you are thinking about bills, work, school or even what toppings you are going to get on the pizza after shooting you will mess it up. It is about being one with the gun.

And I mean truly one with the gun. I can tell you as soon as the round leaves the barrel if I shanked it or not. Maybe it was the trigger squeeze, maybe it was breathing, who knows? Okay, it was most likely trigger squeeze. Before checking the target I can tell you if a round is on target or not. By target, I mean in the same shot group. A three round shot group should be the three bullets in an area no bigger than a quarter. If your shot group is bigger than that, you need to fix some stuff.

I can consistently get two out of three rounds in the same hole when I zero my rifle. And if you think that is bragging, know that I am one of the worst shots of my dogtag friends. I know a guy that can shoot a smiley face on a target. I actually saw him do it. We were joking around about how they always do it in the movies and as a joke he tried it. It was pretty awesome.

On my birthday putting holes in paper with friends. If you see a gun nut fixated on killing why are you even on this website? Clearly it isn’t for you.

Artwork aside, there is a calming effect when shooting. It is why I want to get into long range target shooting. Not because I have some unrealized dream of being a sniper, but because it is the most precision based shooting you can do. Factoring in wind and bullet drop and other factors means blocking everything else out. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money to purchase the rifle or the more pricy optics but I will someday. Distance target shooting isn’t about rage shooting, it is about being calm. Controlling the breathing and lining up that one perfect shot. I can’t keep my head clear enough to meditate for 30 seconds, but to fire off a handful of rounds would take five minutes of clarity. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t be relaxing.

There are some people that will still contend that because of the destructive power of a firearm that it is still a bad thing or how guns are used in combat so shooting them it like going to war. I am putting this part in bold so that my military friends can easily find their pace after rolling their eyes.

Shooting at the range is like hitting a golf ball at the driving range. There are techniques that the golfer has to focus on to hit well. Like a shooting range, the golfer can’t be thinking about the last ball or the next one, just this one. Also like a shooting range, hitting balls on range is nothing like actually going out an playing a round of golf. A round of golf has many elements that are not present on the range. You never have to look for stray balls in the grass, there are no sand traps and unless you go to a different section, putting never comes into play. There is no score and each ball doesn’t count on the range.

Just like the driving range, the shooting range does not simulate combat. Have you ever heard of a person hitting a ball at the range, checking how far it went and then switching clubs because they only needed 150 yards to get on the green for par and then putts the last ball off the side? Of course you haven’t because going to the driving range isn’t golfing, it is hitting a golf ball. When I shoot at a target I am not thinking about hurting anyone, I am thinking about my technique. Unlike the movies where the hero shoots a nice circle in the middle of the man sized target and then puts up a new one, I try to get the most bang for my buck (pun intended) by shooting the entire target. While I start with the center, I will often then switch to aim for the number 7 on the circle. It is about having a good shot group, not doing kill shots.

Actual conversation (summarized)
John: Have you ever shot the Barrett?
Me: Yeah, a couple times in Afghanistan
John: It is fun to shoot.
Me: Yeah
John: You press “X” to reload.
Me: Get out.

It is also pointless to look at a target and talk about how much damage that would have caused when you put 20-30 holes in it. Another reason why going to the range is nothing like a gunfight, no one is going to stand at the distance I tell them to in clothes that contrast from the background and stand still (and upright) while I put a few dozen holes in them. Also, it is illegal to shoot someone that is at some of the distances you can put targets at most shooting ranges.

That is how military people feel about shooting. It is about as far from combat as you can get. It is just like pulling a club out of the car, buying a bucket of balls and going to town. It is fun because it is safe and not a danger to anyone. Aside from the meditative properties, it is just fun. If the only think you have against guns is philosophical, then you need to go you the nearest military base and beg them to let you shoot off some rounds at full auto in a safe, controlled environment. Seriously, if you have never had a gungasm (this is the second time I have used this word) you need one. I still blow off a magazine at the range just for the release

Guns are dangerous and are not toys. And I shouldn’t have to get into that this isn’t the place for a discussion on gun control or responsible gun ownership. Military service members and veterans like to shoot. Not because it keeps our trigger finger itchy or it reminds us of killing, but because it takes the skills that we learn and turn them toward something that is safe. It is what we are good at and no matter what firearms are used for overseas or in the hands of others. At the range, it is a relaxing time. With what we go through, I think we have earned it.

Posted in Kicking Some Knowledge | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Horace Greasley, Surviving WWII Like a Boss

Posted on July 5, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Hero in the making young Private Horace Greasley. One soldier from WWII that can REALLY say, “I’m a lover not a fighter.”

The title of Greatest Generation is given to everyone who fought in WWII. Liberating the world from tyranny was not an easy feat and serving with men of such high caliber it is difficult to stand out. It is like what is considered fast in high school isn’t such a big deal at the Olympics. Some few find a way among the Greatest Generation and their stories are epic.

British WWII vet Horace Greasley died Feb. 4, 2012 at the age of 91. He left behind an incredible story that will be told DTC style. Greasley was a 20-year-old barber in central England when the Nazis started their European World tour. When the Germans entered Czechoslovakia all men of military age were legally able to be called up for duty. A client offered him a chance to get out of it, but Greasley refused and was conscripted as part of the initial draft.

In the early days of WWII, before the U.S. joined the party and made it an intercontinental affair, the British had a few unsuccessful excursions in what would be called the Phony War. Like most combat, it was not real to everyone except those actually on the ground. Greasley was part of a British expeditionary force that landed in France.

He was captured in Carvin, south of Lille on May 25, 1940. Most likely because his balls of steel were slowing him down. He endured a 10 week forced march from France to Holland. Then a three day train ride to prison camps in the part of Poland the Germans had annexed. His second camp was near Lamsdorf and attached to a marble quarry because that is what every war effort needs, a shitton of marble. Even emaciated from being a prisoner, he had the skills to pick up Rosa Rauchbach, the daughter of the quarry’s director. There was an instant and mutual attraction when they met he would later say.

There were a number of obstacles most young lovers do not encounter. Aside from the fact that we was a prisoner of war while WWII was now in full swing. She was the camp’s interpreter and the Nazis frowned on that kind of fraternization. Apparently, the Germans did not do an in-depth background check or they would have found her Jewish roots. Discovery of their romance would mean death for them both.

So they did the sensible thing, they carried on a broad daylight love affair under the guard’s noses. They made the most of any time they could get together. By the end of the year, Greasley was beginning to realize the depth of his feelings for Rauchbach when fate threw them a curveball. Greasley got transferred to an annex of Auschwitz, Freiwaldau, about 40 miles away.
Greasley does the only thing a man can do in these situations, he sneaks out of camp to be with her. Of course, since the nearest neutral border was Sweden about 420 miles away so escaping to friendly territory was impossible Greasley would sneak back into the camp.

He snuck out about 200 times to see Rachbach, sometimes as often as three times a week. They would pass messages through work parties when she was in the area working and messages would be brought into the camp barber shop where he worked. She would also give him food and radio parts for him to take back to camp. The radio helped the camp’s 3,000 prisoners keep up on the news of the war through BBC.

“Had Rosa and I been caught I would have been tortured and probably shot,” he said in an interview, “With her they would have gone right through her family and machine-gunned the lot of them. That was the risk she was taking so we could be together. She was very special to me.”

May 24, 1945, one day shy of five years he was released. He didn’t know she was pregnant when he said goodbye and wrote letters of recommendation to help her get to England. The love story takes a tragic turn because she, and the child, died in childbirth before she could get there.

Greasley was tired of other people telling him what to do so he started a few different successful businesses in his time and retired to Spain with his wife. He sat on the story for over 70 years before having a ghost writer pen the book Do The Birds Still Sing In Hell? Now currently in talks to be made into a major film. Stephen Spielberg and Ron Howard are rumored to be involved.

Horace Greasley snuck out, and back into POW camps 200 times. Heinrich Himmler (in glasses) died the day before Greasley was released for good. Coincidence?

And the picture of him standing up to Heinrich Himmler? He admitted to not know how the man was, only that he was a high ranking Nazi. He is shirtless because he was showing Himmler how skinny he was and was requesting more rations for the prisoner. Because that is what you do when you are carrying on a secret love affair with a Jewish girl that could get you killed, you stand up to the head of the SS and the guy most responsible for the Holocaust.

There has been a lot of talk about Stolen Valor lately (okay, pretty much just military people and vets) and when I hear about someone lying about having an extra ribbon on their uniform I think how I would have been happy if my greatest accomplishment had been to buy Greasley a beer. On online Infantry groups some people talk a lot of trash about how a CIB is better than a CAB. Well Greasley didn’t have either and you still couldn’t hang with this guy. Stories like this also make me want to nut tap every college student that talks about how close to being a vet they are after a long weekend of playing Call of Duty.

I am glad that with the movie coming up the story of Greasley is finally going to hit the mainstream. In the Greatest Generation he stood out as the man that snuck out of a POW camp 200 times and then snuck back in. I like to think that the reason he is shirtless in front of Heinrich Himmler is because cojones that big must put out a lot of BTUs and he was overheating.

Posted in Real Heroes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Political Correctness Does Not Belong on the Frontline

Posted on July 3, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Most people have taken the fact she is holding a gun out of the discussion when it is the only thing that makes her a target. Contrary to early reporting, the picture with the verse of the Quran is behind her and not part of the cutout.

There is a vicious, misogynistic attack against Muslim women involving the U.S. Navy and it needs to stop. Women who are almost universally believed to be oppressed by their culture are being attacked in a way they never thought possible. Currently, Political Correctness (PC) is trying to limit and marginalize women of the Islamic faith.

The U.S. Navy, which has been making strides towards equality by being the first to place women in jobs previously only open to men has backed down due to political pressure. This move not only continues the subtle oppression of Muslim women, but might cost lives in the future.

The PC police are criticizing the use a woman wearing a hijab, the head scarf worn by Muslim women to cover the hair, as a target in a kill house. If that were the case, I would understand. The term “kill house” sounds bad. And setting up targets of Muslim women for Navy SEALs to shoot at seems wrong, but before we take that leap, allow me a moment to talk you off the ledge.

First we must discuss terminology. The military always has very dry, academic names for everything. Then a more accurate term, shorter term is given by the people that actually use it. So the area that is used as a “life fire, target simulation engagement training area” is called “kill house” by the guys who use it. Basically, it is a series of rooms with thick enough walls to stop bullets where combat troops can practice tactics using life rounds. All elite forces use them, even you local SWAT team. Because they are expensive, not to mention dangerous, most soldiers, sailor, Marines will never train in one.

The other term is “target.” I know this is silly, but it is important. At a live fire range EVERYTHING is a target. If it is a cardboard cutout of something, it is called a target. Yes, even the little puppy picture is called a target. However, it is a “no shoot” target. I know this is difficult for civilians to wrap their head around, but just trust me on this.

In a “kill house” there are a number of “targets” placed randomly in different rooms. The shooter (appropriately named because they have guns and shoot stuff) move through the building clearing each room. Some targets are placed in such a way that it is not immediately visible what is on the front of them. The purpose is to engage the “threat” targets and not shoot the “friendly” ones. A threat is anyone with a weapon, a friendly is anyone unarmed.

Not a very realistic training unless we start getting attacked by grey gym teachers from the 1950s.

If you ever watched an old cop show or ever been to a shooting range you have seen the pictures of the shady guy with a revolver. Those are the kind of targets that were used. On the raid to take out Osama Bin Laden, there were no 1950 back alley muggers in the Pakistani compound. There were, however Islamic men and women. That is not racist, it is fact. OBL was pretty serious about Islam being the best thing ever. He only surrounded himself with like minded individual. Like other Muslims.

If we ever go to war with the Vatican you can bet there will be targets of priests and nuns in Special Operation kill houses. I know that Mother Teresa was a great lady and I was a fan of Pope John Paul, but if our enemy was exclusively Catholic, it would not be wrong to have a cardinal as a kill house target. The messed up part is that there are people who are crying about this current event that would not have a problem with a catholic target. What do you think that says about them?

We also need to clear up a couple misconceptions. The target did not have a verse from the Quran on it. The target was in front of a wall that had the verse in a frame. The reason is because the entire training environment was made up to look like the dwelling of a terrorist or an insurgent safe house. These training scenarios are made to look as realistic as possible. A high level terrorist would not have posters of Dale Earnhardt and a Coors light neon sign.

A lot of people jumped the gun (pun intended) to accuse the Navy of religious insensitivity. If any target was made with a verse from the Quran attached I would say that is a dick move. It is unnecessary and counterproductive to the training. Being insensitive for the sake of being insensitive is stupid. And needlessly drawing attention to the military is stupid. However, that isn’t the case.

As for the target itself. The subject is armed. She is not being targeted because she is Muslim, she is being targeted because she is armed. As a person with experience in this very area, deadly force is only authorized, or I other words legal, against a threat. It would be a war crime to shoot a person simply because they are a Muslim. This is an armed combatant.

That is not the only piece of information some article neglected to mention. There are multiple versions of the target. Some have her holding an animal, a flower or some other nonthreatening object. This is important so that the SEALs are training to look for a weapon, not for a specific looking target. If the is a woman in white hijab with a gun and a woman in a black hijab with a flower, the men would get lazy and just look for the white hijab. This might mean they would make a mistake in a real life scenario and ignore a woman in a black hijab with a grenade.

In a dynamic building clearing scenario that the SEALS would find themselves in being able to distinguish between who is a threat and who is not quickly is very important. The Navy is actually treating women the same as men in this regard. By having both armed men and women, they are saying that women can just as easily fight for what they believe as a man can.

Are women capable of fighting for a cause they believe in or is she just holding the rifle and grenades for her husband like a good little Muslim wife?

The people who oppose this are saying otherwise. On a personal note, I hope that Jihadists continue to think of women as not worthy to fight the infidels. If they did, there would be twice the numbers to fight. Upper body strength is not a factor in pushing a button on a vest or driving a vehicle filled with explosives.

But what about the allegedly enlightened, free thinkers that are up in arms (I meant that one too) about this issue? Aren’t they also saying that it isn’t possible for a woman to fight for what she believes? Jihadists do not think of themselves as murderers, they believe they have the highest of callings. Are we saying that women are not capable of that too?

People are drawn to power and influence and OBL was at the top of his game so to speak. Is it really impossible to believe that at least one woman wouldn’t be attracted to that and share his beliefs? Can people not believe that a woman would fight, and even die for the man she loved and the cause she believed in?

Some of these same people are also saying that women should be allowed in the Infantry. So I guess they are saying that American Christian women can fight as well as a man but that Muslim women can’t. This is a plain and simple prejudice. Based purely on a choice to wear the hijab, people are saying that not only can the women not be fighters, but should be removed from the scenario all together.

Like always, the military is forced to bow to political pressure and conform to the ideals of political correctness rather than focus on doing what it is supposed to do. Defend the country “against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” Nowhere does it specify gender.

Posted in Commentary, Kicking Some Knowledge | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Rain God, BOB and the Infantryman’s Relationship With the Weather

Posted on July 2, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Old school flak vest baby! Endex Hohenfels 1996. So many tracked vehicles maneuvers have made it a mudhole with sporadic patches of grass.

There is a saying in the Infantry, “If it ain’t raining, it ain’t training, if ain’t snowing, we ain’t going.” Okay not exactly profound I know and the only ones I have heard say it with any enthusiasm is my drill sergeants yelling at us privates.

This is not a celebration of the fact that the Infantry is an all weather job; it is a declaration that even when it sucks, there is a job to do. I admit, I dismissed it as basic training rhetoric, something that the drill sergeant just said to keep us moving. Or mock us; there are times when it is difficult to know the difference. I came face-to-face with the sad reality when I hit Airborne School.

It was raining hard, just pouring buckets. One of those Georgia spring downpours that come out of nowhere, drop a foot of water and disappear like it never happened. I ran into Lopez, a guy from my Infantry company and we smiled and ran downstairs all excited, ready for PT. When he hit the bottom floor we were stopped in our tracks. There was a huge group of people blocking the doors.

I didn’t understand, it was 0620, formation was in a few minutes. We had an entire company to form up, we needed to be getting out there. But the other soldiers blocked our path. I asked what was going on.

“It’s raining,” someone said.
“I know,” I said smiling, “It will cool us down while we run.”
“We don’t run in the rain.”

I had no response, but Lopez and I shared a look that said, “fucking POGs.” But it was true, PT was actually cancelled because it was raining too hard. That was the first, and last time I ever had PT cancelled due to rain. Because after that, I would be in Infantry units and we fucking do PT in the rain.

Back when the PT uniform was still grey sweats (still better than that new crap) you could tell the Infantry soldiers from the POGs in the chowhall. The grunts would look like drowned cats and the POGs would be dry. On really wet days, the Infantry would have to change into the duty uniform because they were too covered in mud to enter the chowhall. Despite how much it sucked, when you walk into the barracks in a wet and muddy uniform, there is a certain amount of satisfaction walking past a soldier in a clean PT uniform. And that shower never felt so good then coming in from the cold rain.

All military bases it seems are in the worst land the state had to give up. So no matter what, the weather sucks. Being Infantry, we train rain or shine. Mostly rain. POGs get to sit in their nice AC offices and even in the field they get large command tents. They are always close to real latrines and showers. I came out of the box in Hohenfels and when I took a shower a friend said I became four shades lighter.

That was the rotation where it was sunny, it rained, turned to sleet, became snow, then sleet again, rain and finally sunny. All within an hour! And it did that every hour all day. We were camped in perpetual mud so I had three pairs of boots. One pair I was wearing that was dry, the pair I just took off that was wet and a pair that was drying from my last trip outside the vehicle. Because of constantly being exposed to the weather, we develop an intimate relationship with the weather.

There are three deities that control the weather. There is the Rain God (singular, big G) the snow gods (plural, small g) and BOB, the Bright Orange Bulb in the sky. The snow gods are pretty weak and at the mercy of the Rain God who is vengeful, wrathful deity. He enjoys to watch you suffer and has no good side to appeal to. The only thing you can do is curse the Rain God until he realizes he can’t break you and moves on to enjoy the suffering of another.

Freezing my ass off in hohenfels. I remember that this rotation our platoon sergeant told us to put on our MOPP gear. Not because there was a chemical threat, but because it was so cold we needed the extra layers.

BOB, however, is your pal. He is always there, waiting for a change to brighten up your day. That is why when the clouds part you will hear Infantry guys yell, “Hey BOB, nice to see you man.”

If you think that people don’t believe this stuff, you should have seen an old squad leader of mine. Whenever there were dark ominous clouds in the distance he would look at me and say, “Don’t you dare.”

“Fuck you Rain God,” I would yell, “You ain’t got none. I can take everything you got.” (I admit, I used more colorful language than that.)

I swear, once when I did that, the clouds looked like they took a 90 degree turn and headed right for us. I laughed the entire time it rained while he cursed me out. You have to find ways to amuse yourself in the field. Otherwise you go crazy.

Now, no one seems to have a relationship with the weather. I watch reservist POGs hide from the rain like they are made of sugar while grunts stand there defiantly in their gortex. They also do not understand the ain’t training if it ain’t raining philosophy.

For civilians, the weather is at most, a mile annoyance. But when the sun peeks out through the clouds, I like to smile at BOB and silently thank him for popping by to visit. And when I need to go out and it rains, a little part of me thinks, “Fuck you Rain God, you ain’t shit, you can’t spoil my plans.”

Posted in Kicking Some Knowledge, So There I Was | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

When Did Honorable Service Stop Being Enough?

Posted on July 2, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Bearded man, wearing a turban, in a sterilized uniform with a rifle in the background, what do you think this is? It would be easy to misrepresent, but that would take away from all the other truthful stories. This is not a Special Forces soldier, just a former grunt turned speaker monkey having lunch with the locals. When given a gift, it is customary to wear it.

With the Supreme Court striking down the Stolen Valor Act and people like Tim Poe making national headlines I have to wonder, when did serving with honor stop being good enough?

I know that it sounds cooler to say you fast roped out of a helicopter into heavy fire to rescue a platoon of pinned down Marines with nothing but a rusty kabar but if it isn’t true, it is just wrong to say. This is about more than just the Stolen Valor Act, it is about the difference between right and wrong.

Some people think there is nothing wrong with embellishing a story over some beers, but it is about the people that are hurt when this happens. Stolen Valor, no matter how little is not a victimless crime. At the smallest level, the people in the bar that believe the tall tales will feel hurt when they find out there were lied to. They then will be skeptical of anyone that actually served that they meet later.

I don’t care if someone buys you one free beer, if they wanted to buy it for someone that defended their country, you denied an actual soldier. However, it rarely stops at a beer. Jason Truitt claiming to be a SEAL and a former POW with PTSD got a free week long hunting trip and won the rifle they give away each trip. When the people who sponsored the trip found out, they were of course hurt by the deception. This might cost them sponsorship in the future and real vets that could benefit from the experience will miss out.

People like Tim Poe and Matt Beck actually served. There is nothing wrong with honorable service even if it isn’t as cool sounding as other jobs, it is still honorable.

Part of this is the blame of civilians. They don’t know any better so they ask what military members would call stupid questions. When I went to buy a car, after finding out that I had recently been in Afghanistan, the salesman asked, “How many people have you killed?” He doesn’t know to never ask a stranger that question. It might bring up bad memories for someone that has pulled the trigger or might make someone with honorable service feel like they didn’t do enough.

At a journalism convention I was asked if I was a POG. She spelled it out as “Pee Oh Gee” which tells me something. I laughed at her as my grunt credentials are well known, but I am not sure what she thought of me laughing. What she didn’t understand is that the question is confrontational. It is a challenge and a lesser man might lie to save face. Of course a more hardcore grunt might point out that with her job she would be considered a POG and shouldn’t talk shit.

Whether it is being confronted by civilians, or wanting to feel cool. Soldiers need to stop lying about their service. It diminishes any service you had; it disrespects the people/group you claim to be part of and it embarrasses any group you are actually a part of.

There is nothing wrong with honorable service. No matter what the job, if everyone does their part, the team will succeed. Everyone that serves honorably is a veteran end of story. Veteran status does not depend on how many deployments or how many firefights a person gets into. The reason that Special Forces are able to do what they do is because they can leave a lot of the other stuff to other people. Pilots fly them into a mission, mechanics fix their trucks and yes, PSYOP soldiers tag along and do the loudspeaker part of the mission.

I have a story or two that I like to tell, but every time it is around someone new, I always express that I did missions with SF, but I am not SF. I make it clear that I am not SF qualified or wear the tab. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or not give enough information and have someone draw an incorrect conclusion about what I have done or what I am claiming.

Tim Poe was a transportation sergeant. As a sergeant, he should have been a leader of soldiers. There is respect in that. While he was not a trigger puller, his job is an important one and I for one am glad people do it. He deployed to Kosovo, and while not a combat zone, it still really sucks being away from the family. People still have readjustment issues even from the non-combat deployments. He was injured in a training accident prior to his unit’s deployment to Afghanistan. He spent 32 days in country before being sent home.

He could have had pride in what he did. Even though it wasn’t the stuff of movies. It is still more than what 99 percent of the country has done. When he went on America’s Got Talent, or was at a charity golf event for veterans he should not have said that he did multiple tours to Iraq and Afghanistan, was wounded on a patrol and had multiple awards he did not earn. What he should have said was this:

“I spent nine years in the Minnesota National Guard where I proudly served my country in a maintenance unit. I deployed to Kosovo for a year. I was not home for very long before I was alerted to deploy again. Unfortunately, I ended up getting injured in a training exercise when I fell off the back of a truck and broke my back.

While I was on medical hold at Fort Benning, singing kept my spirits up. I felt like I wasn’t doing my job as I watched units deploy to Iraq and I was staying back trying to get cleared by the doctors. Being on medical hold is difficult because you want to tell the docs you are fine so you can deploy, but you have to think of your family and have your injuries properly documented in case you reinjure yourself.

Finally I was allowed to rejoin my unit for a deployment to Afghanistan. Before we could even get settled, I hurt myself again and was sent home after only a month in country. My biggest regret is that I had to leave my friends behind and go home early.

Every soldier wants to do his part and even though it has been because of injuries, I feel like I haven’t done my part. Singing has been the one thing that has helped me through the injury and the guilt of leaving my unit behind.”

I would root for that guy. Everyone in Minnesota would root for that guy. He could have been a spokesperson for National Guard and POGs everywhere about how all honorable service should be recognized and respected. People would shame grunts for talking shit about POGs. Instead, Poe has a new nickname. Tim “The Toolbag” Poe. He is the shame of his unit, his family and the National Guard. He is nationally hated by members of the military and possibly looking at legal action from groups he defrauded and even UCMJ action.

Here is all that matters. Did you serve? Would you have deployed had you been ordered? Did you do your job to the best of your ability? If you can answer yes to those questions, you are a veteran. It should be held against someone that they never deployed. There are millions of veterans that were in the military when there was no war going on. They still served with honor.

Some veterans never deployed. I call them lucky. Who knows, they might not have come back. They might have been in the chowhall when a rocket landed. Even if they survived, that person might not have come back the same as when he left.

What we have to do is get back to a place, culturally, where honorable service is enough. No one has to have been on cool missions, killed Osama Bin Laden or have all kinds of medals and decorations. Be proud of your service and don’t dishonor yourself or those around you. Lying about service is NOT a victimless crime. It hurts everyone around you. It is only a matter of degree. Hurting people a little bit is still hurting people.

Until we can all be proud of what we did, we will have to endure people like Tim Poe, Jason Truitt and even Steve Jordan. And I for one am sick of those guys.

Posted in Commentary | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Spec-4 Mafia, If You Ask You Lose All Deniability

Posted on June 22, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

EndEX of JTRC. Less than 24 hours earlier, that truck was packed full of acquired goods.


Recently, I was filling in as a production assistant for a few days and I think I impressed the boss with my work ethic and performance. I joked that they were going to miss me and told Jill, the boss, that in the future she should always hire a vet, specifically one that had been a Specialist in the Army. If you have a lot of tasks that need to be done that require someone to interact with a number of different people in a multitude of roles, it helps to have someone that used to be a member of the Spec-4 mafia. And when I was an E-4, I was a Don. The pop culture reference is Radar O’Riley from M.A.S.H. while he was a Corporal, that is still an E-4 and close enough. Although it works best when it isn’t an NCO.

I know that they must have a similar unofficial network in the AirForce and Navy. Not sure what it is called in the Marines, but there has to be something. In the Army it is called the Spec-4 Mafia. While not a real criminal organization, it is where E-4s (or Specialists) in the Army help each other out. At a certain level, Specialists run the Army. It is the perfect rank, you aren’t a dumb Private but have none of the responsibility of a Sergeant.

For example, the supply sergeant never wants to give anyone anything. He knows exactly how many of everything he has in the supply office. If he gives stuff away, he has to recount his inventory from time to time. Never giving anything away is his way to exert power over others while still being lazy. That is why you never go to the supply sergeant for your supply needs. You check in with the E-4 in the supply room. He or she knows what is expendable and what is accountable. Hook that E-4 up later and you are golden for the future.

I was a Don in the Spec-4 mafia because I got the impossible. It helps to know when to push and when to pull. There are times when you have to approach the other soldier like his best buddy and time when you have to let him think that he would have to be a super hero to hook you up. And then there are times when you have to piss someone off to get what you want. The perfect example of this was when I was PSYOP at the Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC) at Fort Polk. As attachments, no one knew who we were and no one wanted to support us, even though on paper they were supposed to.

When we arrived, the chow hall was already closed. The chowhall is run by POGs and my guys had already been turned away. There is no way the mess sergeant is going to give us grub. I found a PFC (close enough) and fast talked him into taking care of us. This got to make him a hero for squaring us away. We got a loaf of bread, peanut butter, jelly, fresh fruit and a coffee cake T-Rat tin. We weren’t very hungry so snacks hit the spot.

As attachments, no one really gave a crap about us and the second day into the exercise, our senior enlisted guy just gave up. I could see it happening so I stepped up my efforts. I found the guys passing out ammo and got them to fill up the cargo pockets of two soldiers. I offered the rounds to the rest of the detachment but the Lieutenant said that we would get our official draw the next day. This did not break my heart because I think we all know that I love to have extra rounds on me at any given moment. Bullets are like a lot of things, better to have too many that you don’t need than run out when you do.

This is why the Spec-4 mafia is better than the regular Army system. The Sergeant First Class (E-7) got turned away from his scheduled ammo draw. There was blank ammunition that was assigned to us and he was turned away because they wanted to take care of their own soldiers first. It didn’t help that he didn’t care so he didn’t fight for his soldiers. I know that it was only simulated warfare, but this is sending us into combat without bullets. The worst part is that the Lt had to come to me, hat in hand, to ask if I could get more rounds for everyone else. (For the record, the Lt was former enlisted so of course I did my part, plus he knew how the Mafia worked)

There is an art to creative acquisition. The higher ups can’t know too much or it will seem like they gave the order to acquire the stuff. If they do not appear to be part of it, they can bail you out if you get in trouble. The first time I walked into the tent with an armload of stuff the Lt asked where I got it.

“If you ask, you lose all deniability sir,” I said. He soon stopped asking.

Wouldn’t you trust this face? In the box at JRTC, the Don takes a break.


For the record, they were not ill gotten goods. I always follow a couple simple rules.
1. Never steal anything
2. Someone who has the item has to physically hand it to me
3. No one can get in trouble for giving me stuff

Overall, things were working out pretty well with us getting what we needed through unofficial means until we hit a snag. We needed the impossible, a fuel can. Normally not a difficult item to get, but the unit came from Hawaii to Louisiana and only brought enough water and fuel cans for their vehicles. No one was even remotely flexible on this.

The Spec-4 Mafia itself could not help me, because I would have to violate rules 1 and 3 to get a fuel can. I couldn’t outright steal one and any other Specialist would be in trouble for giving it to me. The best anyone could do was refer me up the chain of command. There was only one thing left to do; I had to piss somebody off.

When I got to the battalion supply officer I knew I had my man. Naturally he blew me off at first. I was an E-4, he was a major that was very busy. He didn’t just kick me out of the TOC, he just told me he would deal with me later. That means, “Fuck off so I can forget about you.”

I politely nodded and stepped a respectable distance away. I quietly stood there at parade rest (feet shoulder width apart, hands behind the back, staring forward for you civilians) and waited. He had already ignored and forgotten about me so this is where the genius comes out. When he moved on to talk to the next person I snapped to attention, followed him, stopped a comfortable distance away, did a facing movement so I wasn’t staring at him and went back to parade rest.

After a couple rounds of this he asked what I was doing. I politely answered that I was waiting for him to be done so he could talk to me about the fuel can as he promised. I think he actually questioned my resolve at first. But after shadowing him for 20 minutes it started to bother him. And it might have been a little creepy.

Finally he grabbed me by the uniform and led me to the makeshift supply office. He called a Captain over and told the Captain to give me a fuel can. The Captain started to protest, but the Major silenced him before he could get two words out. Then the Major looked at me very seriously and said, “I don’t want to see you again.”

I smiled and thanked him and he stormed off. That was the last time I ever saw him. The Captain took me to the supply sergeant and said, “Give him whatever he wants.” The Sergeant tried to say that they didn’t have any extra fuel cans but the Captain gave him one of those, “We have no choice” shrugs and walked away.

The Sergeant gave me a fuel and water can and said, “I don’t know how you got these.” It was better that he didn’t ask. Since I had free reign, that seemed like a good time to round out any last minute equipment shortages. When I walked back into the tent, our Lt practically ran the other way. He really, really didn’t want to know how I made that happen.

This was pretty much how things went for my Army career. I always made friends outside the unit and became an asset when we needed stuff. At one point an officer didn’t like the “If you ask you lose all deniability” line. I knew that he really needed it so it got changed to “It fell off a truck.” In Afghanistan I was actually ordered by a Captain in my chain of command to no longer follow trucks. Literally every vehicle on base was a truck (except the helicopters) so there was no way to do anything where I would not be behind a truck. He later rescinded the order so that I could go about my regular duties like running missions six days a week.

One evening I walked into the tent and asked a guy,” who’s the man?” He said he was. I agreed and walked away. I asked the next guy the same question. Of course he said he was, and of course I agreed and moved on. The third guy said, “You are.” I agreed with him and handed him extra pistol magazines, something we were in vast shortage of. Suddenly people wanted to change their answers.

I didn’t always use the Spec-4 mafia to get much needed gear. At times it was used for my own amusement or to work on projects that kept me sane. I was very close to actually having a pool in Kandahar when I assigned to another camp.

My time of creative acquisition sadly had to end when I got promoted. You can’t be part of the Spec-4 Mafia as a Sergeant. It just doesn’t work that way. Suddenly you go from “hook a brother up” to pulling rank. I tried to teach my guys, but none really had the knack. Those skills did come in handy as a civilian in a war zone. But I didn’t just take care of me and my guys; we helped support donations to a local orphanage.

As a civilian, the skills of creative acquisition translate over. Every job still has supply and logistical issues. There is always communication with other departments or organizations and having someone skilled in bridging those gaps comes in handy. Now, I don’t say that things fell off a truck or tell the person in charge that they need deniability. Now I say, “People like to give me things.” Which, in the end is more accurate.

Posted in Commentary, So There I Was | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Be Polite and Respectful, but Have a Plan to Kill Everyone in the Room

Posted on June 13, 2012 by psessum

By: Peter Sessum

Regular village meeting, as long as everyone keeps their hands where I can see them we will get along just fine.

So there I was, in a small village in Kandahar Province, no shit. We had just rolled up and the area was deserted. It is like when the gunfighter walks into that old western town and tumbleweed rolls by. This didn’t look right.

My security was a group of U.S. artillery soldiers. At the time, there was little need for artillery strikes so they were used in other roles. No offense to my cannon cocker buddies, but these guys sucked. Like many others they had decided that patrolling was for Infantry and didn’t pay much attention in school. This is why when we were dismounting off the trucks they were all jaw jacking and half stepping. Most of them were facing in and chatting instead of facing out and setting up security.

A military convoy can send up a decent dust cloud and they make some noise rolling into town. Someone should have seen us coming. This means they have plenty of time to be ready to greet us or set up an ambush. Kids are a good indicator, if the kids are around that is usually a sign that things are okay. The Taliban would often warn kids to stay away if there was going to be an attack. So no kids equal bad news and there were no kids to be seen.

My rifle is clipped into my gear and I could rest a hand on it without raising suspicion. Calmly, I switched my selector lever to semi and started scanning the tops of the mud walls. All I had to do was put some pressure with my right hand to swing my barrel up a little then support it with my left to bring the barrel up to engage targets. The Arty guys behind me were still shooting the shit and not paying attention.

A couple men emerged from around a corner and started walking towards up. Before they could get halfway to our group, a group of boys came running out to see the Americans. With no noticeable change to my demeanor I put my rifle back on safe and went over to greet the men.

That was how things would go for about six months of my tour. Five days a week we would go outside the wire and visit three villages a day. We would make a selection, based on need, of which village to visit on Thursday with a medical team to set up an aid clinic for the day. Friday was a day off.

We were a Psychological Operations (PSYOP) team combined with a Civil Affairs (CA) team. On the visit we would sit down with the village elders, drink tea and talk to them about their village. Most of the time was spent doing village assessments from both the PSYOP and CA angles. During those meetings we would have to be polite and respectful. We were trying to build rapport with the locals. But the entire time you would have to have a plan to kill everyone in the room.

This is based on self preservation not a desire to kill. It is about being ready in case something happens. The natural fight or flight response needs to be suppressed in Afghanistan. Flight will only get you killed. Running out of a mud hut into an unknown situation is not good. Even if you escape the room you are in, where are you going to go? You are still in the middle of the desert.

It is different back home. There is very little chance that someone is going to open a can of firefight in the weekly staff meeting. This just isn’t a common danger in the civilian world. In some situations, quietly laying on the floor is the best move if someone comes in with a gun. If you are not the specific target, just getting out of line of sight of a gunman is enough. In the case of a drive-by shooting, all you have to do is get behind cover. In some situation, if you have the ability, fighting back is the right response but all of that is taken on a case-by-case basis. In Afghanistan, no matter where you run or hide, you are still in Afghanistan.

So it isn’t about running or standing your ground, it is about securing the current situation. First, you secure the people in this room. Then you secure a route to your vehicles, then you secure the route back to base and then you are safe. Not everyone in the room has to literally die, but every threat has to be eliminated quickly.

First, you have to know what sector you are responsible for. Then you have to identify the threats in your sector and how you would deal with them and in what order. Every time things change in the room, a guy brings tea, someone joins or leaves the area, you have to recalculate. And you have to do this all while no one knows that you are plotting the option to kill them.

Some, like the CA officer might have the luxury of not having to think about such things. Knowing he has hard chargers in the room means that he has a couple extra seconds to respond. Or that he has a very narrow sector to cover, like only the village leader. Former Infantry guys have the largest sectors that often overlap with the career POG reservists.

Right about here is where the people that only skim have stopped reading and are getting all bent out of shape. They will argue that you can’t build trust if you are planning someone’s demise. And I could agree with that point. However, I truly respect the Afghan people. They have an exceptionally hard life and yet they persevere. I know that not all of them are Taliban and that most just want to go out their lives in peace. So when I talk to them, I genuinely want to earn their trust and respect. I also want to go home alive so I have a plan in case there is the odd asshole that wants to shoot me.

Sometimes, I wouldn’t sit in the village meeting and would conduct PSYOP product testing with the villagers or talk to farmers. Our guide, Sadiq, would with me and an interpreter and talk with a farmer about what was important to him. Sadiq would pull a knife off my gear and cut open a melon. We would sit and eat and talk. He would give the farmer some money for the melon. I was never allowed to pay because I was the guest.

One good thing about being outside was that I got to check on the security. As the psychological operations soldier from Seattle, I think the units I supported thought I was some tree hugging hippy. I used to stress cultural awareness and the importance of building rapport with the local populace. I even developed a cultural awareness brief and gave it to each company in the battalion. So I used to catch some flack about how being culturally aware might impact Rules of Engagement (ROE). I found an easy way to quell their concerns.

“My second round in the magazine is a tracer,” I would tell them. “It is because my first round will get your attention and if you follow the tracer you will know where to shoot. I will shoot first because I will know when things are wrong before you will and will react first when the bad guys make their move. Just follow my lead.”

I would have to explain that cultural awareness for me is to build rapport, for everyone else it is used to not piss off the locals and create more bad guys. It has no impact on ROE. Or to dumb it down, “You can still shoot bad guys.”

I will always have a lot of respect for the Afghan people. I have looked for work where I can do my part to make their lives a little better. There are many Afghans that I trust with my life. I was pretty successful at building rapport and bridging our two cultures. I always wanted to leave a meeting with a new friend. But God help me, if anyone tried anything so that I wouldn’t get to see my daughter again I was going to make them a martyr for their cause.

Posted in So There I Was | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment