Thomas E. Ricks's Blog, page 218

Former Army combat hospital commander convicted on several charges

The colonel was a grabber,
groper, and porn dog. Convicted on 14 charges, among them violating a "joint
ethics regulation, which was for having pornographic photos on his government
computer; sexually harassing three women, which is maltreatment; assault
consummated by battery on five women, which is not sexual; and numerous counts
of making inappropriate sexual comments and showing inappropriate photos," he gets 3 months in the hoosegow, a $30,000 fine,
and retirement from the Army.

No spin, maybe, but lots of junk

That's the National Park Service verdict
on Bill O'Reilly's error-filled history of the assassination of President
Lincoln. My favorite example: He has the president meeting in the Oval
Office-which didn't exist until the 20th century.

Thoughts of a military parent provoked by the Arlington funeral of my son's comrade

For personal reasons, I've been thinking a lot this week
about the families of those who deploy. So I was especially grateful to General
Barno for sharing this.

By Lt. Gen. David Barno,
USA (Ret.)

Best Defense guest columnist

Last month, I attended the funeral of Captain John
"Dave" Hortman, age 30, at Arlington National Cemetery. Dave was an Army
aviator, a decorated helicopter pilot with three combat tours in Iraq. He was
killed in a training crash at Fort Benning, Georgia on Aug. 8, scarcely 48
hours after the headline-grabbing crash of a CH47 helicopter in Afghanistan
that claimed the lives of 30 Americans. Dave's death and that of his co-pilot,
CW3 Steve Redd, garnered few headlines.

Dave and Steve were members of the Army's most secretive
helicopter unit, the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment
(Airborne), the "Night Stalkers". Both were AH6M "Little Bird" pilots, flying
the Army's smallest and most nimble helicopter. They died flying in a routine
training event -- a fact that in some ways only adds to the anguish of their
deaths at a very young age.

Steve Redd, from Lancaster, CA was an experienced
special ops attack helicopter pilot, 19-year Army veteran, and fully mission
qualified aviator with thousands of flying hours. He had just remarried the
week prior to the crash. The photos accompanying his obituary -- of a laughing,
youthful 37-year old in Army Dress Blue uniform -- were taken at his wedding.
He left behind six children and stepchildren, and an amazing history over the
past decade that included nine deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan.

I accompanied my son and his fiancé to the funeral. My
son was in Afghanistan when his friend Dave died. As a fellow Little Bird
platoon leader, he led the memorial service in Afghanistan for Dave with the
deployed members of their unit -- a very tough experience for him. He had
redeployed back to the United States just in time to attend his friend's
funeral at Arlington. His fiancé -- herself a former Army scout helicopter
pilot, with two combat tours -- joined him. Both of them were very close to
Dave and his girlfriend.

Waiting around before the funeral's start with members
of Dave's and my son's unit provided me a brief glimpse into the parallel
universe occupied by so many in our military today -- particularly our special
operators. Dave's young fellow special ops pilots were gathered in their formal
dress blue uniforms, chests covered with ribbons, with gold-trimmed rank
epaulets dating from the Civil War on their shoulders.[[BREAK]]

Conversations before funerals are always awkward, but
this group was on tragically familiar ground. The 160th Regiment has
a large, black memorial stone on their closely guarded compound at Fort
Campbell. On it are the chiseled names of every one of the 91 aviators lost over
the thirty years of this unique unit's existence -- before the impending
additions of Dave and Steve.

Whereas chitchat before a civilian funeral might turn to
sports or the weather to skirt the somber import of the setting, the informal
repartee among this group was a bit different. Chief among the topics of these
fit and healthy young men was how remarkably well Dave had prepared his last
will and testament to cushion the blow of his death for family and friends.

Each of these young men in blues were now going to take
time to refine their own already up-to-date wills to better prepare in infinite
detail for the unthinkable. Hand-written farewell letters to family, sequences
of songs at the funeral, and how -- exactly -- the family was to be notified,
with whom present and in support -- all topics not common conversations among
young men and women attending funerals in Boise or Boston. Mixed in were
thoughts of future assignments, next deployments, decisions on getting married
or getting out of the Army, combined with updates on friends and classmates,
former unit members and mutual acquaintances. This was a military crowd, and
the year was 2011, and the last ten years of life for this group meant just one
big thing: war and training, training and war.

And of course, talk about Dave Hortman. Dave was a 2004
West Point grad, and a number of his friends and classmates -- those not
deployed -- were there to see him off. Dave's mother and stepfather were
present and surprisingly composed, along with his sister. A sizable contingent
from his hometown of Inman, SC, were there; Dave was the president of his Byrne
High School student body, class of 1999. And Dave's long-standing girlfriend was there,
herself an Army officer just back from Afghanistan, who had only two days
together with Dave before he headed off for his final mission.

As our group of about 70 followed the silver hearse
in our cars, conversations fell off. About a quarter mile from the gravesite,
we left our vehicles behind and proceeded forward on foot. A brief, solemn
ceremony marked the transfer of Dave's flag-draped casket from the hearse to a
horse-drawn artillery caisson, a nod to the past. Salutes were rendered by the
Army's 3rd U.S. Infantry, the "Old Guard," accompanied by subdued martial
music. A team of perfectly groomed horses capped by riders clad in formal Army
blues led our procession forward, followed by a somber Army marching band and a
platoon of Old Guard infantrymen with bayonet-tipped rifles sparkling in the
sunlight.

The troops' measured steps echoed off the blacktop road,
and many in our mixed crowd of dark suits and ties, dress blues and berets, and
cadet white over gray, fell unconsciously into step. As our small group moved
closer to the grave site, I noticed a small uniformed figure wearing four-stars
unexpectedly materialize in our midst. General Marty Dempsey, 37th Army Chief of Staff and his wife Deanie, had quietly joined our sad procession,
silently melding in with fellow mourners.

At the grave site, more salutes were rendered. The Old
Guard teams split up, expertly placing the casket over the open grave, while
the mounted caisson team quietly receded. A squad of infantry stood to one
side, ready to fire the traditional three volleys of seven in final salute. A
bugler, also bedecked in dress blues with bright ribbons, stood under nearby
trees, nearly out of sight. An unseasonably cool breeze rustled the leaves.

As the family took their seats opposite the casket
carrying the final remains of Dave Hortman, the crowd closed in, stepping
around the sticky mud from recent rains. An unrelenting parade of airliners
descending for landing at nearby Reagan National Airport bored through the sky
just overhead. The adjacent highway curving toward the nearby Pentagon provided
a muted backdrop of midday traffic. Closer in, the gravestones nearby marked
the final resting places of all too many young men and women, killed in action
in Iraq or Afghanistan. Dave would lie among those he served and supported,
fellow young warriors.

A clergyman from Dave's hometown gave a prayer, but his
words fell on many ears that were already numb. Colonel Matt Moten, who had
been Dave's sponsor and mentor on the West Point faculty while Dave was a
cadet, offered a touching eulogy recounting the impressive series of highlights
marking Dave's short life. The downcast mourners lifted their heads a bit,
hearing again about the love Dave engendered in his fellow cadets, fellow
pilots, fellow human beings.

Unsaid among the prayers or the tribute was the
inevitable crushing sense that this remarkably promising young man, and the
unique book that was his life, had now been forever destroyed with no new
chapters ever to be written. No marriage. No kids. No grandchildren. No more
choices or new possibilities. No more shared love, shared dreams, shared
sunsets.

The firing party volleyed off their 21 shots in three
sets with perfect precision. The bugler beautifully drew out the last notes of
"Taps." The soldiers at graveside precisely folded Dave's last flag and
presented it to Dave's company commander, a burly major with a chest covered in
combat ribbons. He knelt to present it to Dave's mom with words heard in
gentle, daily repetition at Arlington: "On behalf of a grateful nation..."
The crowd began to break up.

As our small groups quietly began the short walk back to
our cars, many paused to speak to Dave's mom. My son introduced himself, and
shared a few quiet words. He had gotten to know Dave when they were both
together in "Green Platoon," the six-month long, painfully intensive training
program required before Night Stalkers can begin operational flying. My future
daughter-in-law drifted toward Dave's grief-stricken girlfriend. They embraced
and shared quiet words, smiles, tears. My son joined them.

And my thoughts, unspoken, forged silently, caught in shared
glances between every military parent present: "And there, but for the grace of
God..." Sweating out that next night overwater training flight, that next live
fire exercise, the next combat deployment.

Holding our breaths, hanging on for a very, very long
war.

Guess what? I'm not crazy, I'm not using anti-depressants, and I'm not homeless -- I just happen to be a vet of Second Fallujah

There's a memorable line here: "I was able to graduate
college not despite being a combat veteran, but exactly because I am one."

By Edgar Rodriguez

Best Defense guest columnist

Every year, Veterans' Day stirs up mixed feelings for me. On
one hand, I am proud that our country takes a day out to honor those that have
served in uniform. On the other hand, I am dismayed that too often praise for
veterans feels empty and insincere. It is insincere because most Americans only
have a vague idea of the struggles that veterans go through. This lack of
understanding is particularly true in regards to combat veterans, a group that
I am a part of. I fought in the Second Battle of Fallujah in 2004 as a Navy
Corpsman attached to a Marine Corps unit. (Corpsman is Navy terminology for
medic.)

In meeting people I often find that they cling to two
stereotypes about combat veterans. One is of a broken-down drunk and the other
is of the post-military Rambo-like figure that is inches away from losing
control because he cannot readjust to American society. Often, they are
surprised that I do not fit into these stereotypes making comments like "You
don't look like a combat vet." Sometimes, people also ask strange questions
ranging from the highly inappropriate "Have you ever killed anyone?" to the
downright idiotic "What did you guys do on the weekends over there?" (Military
personnel typically work everyday when deployed to combat zones).

But most of all, I have found that people are often
genuinely perplexed that I have been able to be successful after leaving the
military "despite" being a combat veteran. It is almost as if I am obligated to
be doomed because of my combat service. I first encountered this attitude
during the final months of my enlistment. After informing my Chief of my
decision to leave the military he did everything he could to convince me it
would be a mistake. He even went as far as making me see our Command Master
Chief and speaking with him about my decision.

In my meeting with the Master Chief, he spoke of sailors that
he knew that had gotten out with intentions of becoming successful but had
their hopes dashed because they did not know how to function outside of the
military, emphasizing that as a combat veteran I would be especially prone to
failure. After sharing these sad stories with me he then went about offering me
pretty much anything I could have wanted as long as I reenlisted, at the end
saying, "Don't throw your career away Rodriguez. You could be a Master Chief!"
I thanked the Master Chief for meeting with me, but I told him that I still
intended to leave the military, leaving him noticeably disappointed. While I
know that the Master Chief only had the best of intentions, I found it unusual
and disheartening that he thought I could accomplish amazing things in uniform
but at the same time accomplish nothing worthwhile out of uniform.

As disheartening as the meeting with the Master Chief was, I
would later be grateful for it. The meeting prepared me for the array of uncomfortable
situations I encountered after leaving the military. Once, during a doctor's
appointment, the physician was surprised that I was a combat veteran and at the
same time had no prescriptions for Zoloft or Prozac, saying, "Are you sure you
were there?" Last year, during a research program at the University of
Maryland, I attended a group lunch with two professors that I was working with.
At one point one of them told me that if I had any issues that I should talk to
his assistant. I told him that the program administrators handled all the
administrative issues. To which he replied, "No, I mean if you have any veteran
issues. Like if you go crazy or something."

In speaking with fellow veterans I have found that these
sort of situations are not unique. These misunderstandings occur because the
gap between veterans and nonveterans has grown to the extent that most
Americans view veterans as an abstract idea instead of fellow citizens.
Currently, veterans are 2.6 percent more likely to be unemployed than
nonveterans and every day an average of 18 veterans commits suicide. I don't
believe that a society that truly understands and does right by its veterans
would have these sort of issues.

Society's lack of understanding makes the trauma of combat
worse for veterans. As a combat veteran, I understand this intimately. Before
Fallujah, I had intended to make the military a career. After Fallujah, I
decided to leave. I left because while I was always proud to be a Corpsman,
after Fallujah, I found that I had stopped enjoying it. Like many veterans, I
signed up for the GI Bill upon entering the military, although I doubted I
would ever use it. However, unsatisfied with the options left for me after the
military I decided to use it and give college a shot. It didn't look like I had
much of a chance of succeeding. There weren't any college graduates in my
family and I myself barely graduated high school.

I started off at my hometown community college and while I
did well, I found it academically unchallenging. I wanted something better so I
transferred to another community college eventually transferring to the
University of Florida. At the University of Florida I accomplished my goal of
getting a degree, graduating with high honors with majors in Political Science
and Linguistics. And I am proud to say that I was able to graduate college not
despite being a combat veteran, but exactly because I am one. Combat is one of
the most intense experiences a person can go though and it changes a person
forever. But while combat is an intense and negative experience, it does not
have to be destructive, it can it be constructive. If anything good can be
taken from war, then that must surely be it.

In the past, when speaking to people about the struggles
veterans face, I would sometimes say, "People are all about supporting the
troops, so long as they don't actually have to care." And while that statement
may seem mean and cynical, I thought it held a great deal of truth. I still do.

In my opinion, what veterans need are not acts of empty gratitude,
holidays, or memorials. What veterans need more then anything is to know that
they still have a stake in their own country after they've served. It is
something simple, but it is also something profoundly important.

Edgar Rodriguez is a Iraq War veteran and a University of
Florida graduate. He fought in the Second Battle of Fallujah in 2004 while
attached to the ground combat element of the 31st Expeditionary Unit. He
lives and works in Washington, D.C. 

What we owe our returning veterans

By Tori Lyon

Best Defense guest columnist

As our troops come
back from Iraq, one measure of our integrity as a nation is how effectively we
welcome them home. Beyond a chorus of respect from business, government and
citizens for our troops, they are coming back to grim economic and social
realities leaving them more likely to be unemployed and homeless than average
Americans.

The vast irony is
that many service members who heeded the call to action post 9/11 are suffering
from the effects of an 11.7 percent unemployment rate, physical and mental injuries,
and terrible difficulties reengaging in the social and familial rhythms of
civilian life.

The result: a
disproportionate number of homeless veterans between the ages of 18-30. A new study by the Department of Housing and Urban Development and Department of Veterans Affairs noted that while young veterans make up
only about 5 percent of the nation's veteran population, they constitute nearly 9 percent of
all former service members who are homeless. This doesn't count those who
"couch surf" with friends and family.

The problem will
not abate as another 50,000 troops stream home from Iraq and Afghanistan over
the next two years. How can we rise to the occasion to serve our veterans with
the same honor and dignity that they have shown us?

Based on Jericho
Project's 28-year
experience in helping formerly homeless individuals transform their lives -- and
our work in providing permanent supportive housing and comprehensive counseling
to over 200 veterans -- we believe that today's young veterans do not have to
experience the chronic homelessness that shamefully plagues those from the Vietnam era.

Instead, speedy and
intensive support can steer our homeless and at-risk veterans through the
challenges of transition and ensure that they do not settle into a permanent
state of homelessness. To accomplish this, start with the stabilizing
foundation of supportive housing within a community of veterans. Then, give
veterans access to the expertise needed to successfully tackle complex issues
such as substance abuse, mental health, and family isolation. And finally,
provide real-world counseling to fast-track veterans to jobs, internships, and
education where they can regain their confidence and get back on their feet.

Overall our young
veterans are known for their discipline, leadership, and courage. While
otherwise stressful, life in the military is also extremely structured. It
provides housing, training, employment, and community. So when a serviceperson
comes home it is an icy plunge into the relative chaos of finding affordable
housing, attainable jobs, and even coping with the anxiety of a crowd or loud
noise.

For those returning
to troubled homes or neighborhoods that were under-resourced to begin with, the
journey can be fraught with additional threats. While these veterans have become
accomplished, skilled teammates and leaders in the military, often their home
lives and neighborhoods now have even less margin for coping with joblessness,
addictions, and inadequate education.

What can be done? The
military can better prepare veterans for their return. Admirably the Department
of Defense is considering revamping its exit process to better connect
returning veterans to services and resources they need. We can also do a better
job of identifying those people who are at risk of homelessness
and introducing them to services early in the re-entry process. This can go far
in helping them to avert a condition that no veteran should bear.

At the same time,
employers can bring veterans' resumes to the top of the pile. Today's young
veterans make great hires, bringing maturity, crisis management skills and
loyalty to the table.

The Department of
Veterans Affairs has called for zero homeless veterans by 2015. With 75,000 veterans still on the
streets on any one night, it is a tall order, but together with the strategic
support of the government, businesses, social services and private citizens, it
is one that we must deliver.

Tori Lyon is
Executive Director of Jericho Project , a New York-based nonprofit ending
homelessness at its roots. 

One way to observe Veterans' Day this weekend: Watch a great old war movie

We were sitting around CNAS this
week jiving about a
goofy list of best war movies that ran in the LA Times, and quickly drew up a counter-list
of our 10 favorite movies about the military.

One concern I have is that some
people will think watching a movie to commemorate veterans is disrespectful, or
in bad taste. I think not. Why? Because Memorial Day is our time to remember
the dead. Veterans' Day, by contrast, I think is to remember, thank, and
welcome home those who served and survived -- and so is both a commemoration and a
celebration. But I know others view this differently -- in fact, this came up last
night at a discussion I was at a Johns Hopkins SAIS.

World War II

Saving Private Ryan

Worth it for the first and last half hours alone. The middle
is actually pretty typical stuff.

Band of Brothers

Actually a television miniseries, but still one of the best
war films ever made.

Twelve O'clock High

Striking especially for its clear-eyed depiction of combat
stress.

Downfall

Hitler in the bunker. Contains one of the most parodied
scenes ever. See if you can find it.

Irregular warfare

The Wind That Shakes
the Barley

The Irish civil war actually didn't last long or kill many
people, compared to anything else on this list. But this is a powerful tale of
how revolutions eat their own.

The Battle of Algiers

Also one of the best movies ever made, plain and simple.
Bonus fact: Some of the actors actually are Algerian fighters playing the roles
they played in real life.

Zulu

A film any young officer should watch. A clinic on the
effectiveness of massed firepower.

Cold War

Dr. Strangelove

Stanley Kubrick proves it possible to make a humorous film
about nuclear war. Slim Pickens tops it off -- and a young James Earl Jones makes
an appearance.

Vietnam War

Apocalypse Now

Long and uneven -- like a lot of great art.

Post-Cold War world

Black Hawk Down

About Mogadishu 1993. When Andrew Exum's wife wanted to know
what modern light infantry combat is like, he showed her this.

Israel striking Iran: Maybe it will happen?

Longtime grasshoppers know I've been skeptical
about Israel actually carrying through on threats to strike Iran in an attempt
to degrade the Iranian nuclear weapons program.

But I've heard two comments lately that have me
recalibrating a bit:

With the U.S. military out of Iraq in about six weeks,
there is a new opportunity for a direct flight straight across Iraq. "We have
no authorities or arrangements to defend the [Iraqi] skies," a U.S. Air Force
general helpfully
notes. The Iraqi military isn't capable of stopping an Israeli air flotilla
or maybe even detecting it, if done right. Israel even could put up some
refuelers over the western desert, with some fighters protecting them. And
maybe even take over an airstrip out there to use for emergency landings, or
combat search and rescue. If you find this argument persuasive, then New Year's
Eve may be the time to do it. I mean, who is going to stop them? Syria has its
own problems, and Saudi Arabia probably would be happy to help.




Also, I think the more Israel talks about doing it, the
more inured Iranian air defenders become.

But keep in mind that Fuller was right, and Afghan security forces really are bad

Ok, we had some fun yesterday
with the defenestration of General Fuller, but this note arrives this morning
and it is sobering:

Fuller told the truth
on this one and was mangled as a result. It's no secret that the Afghans want
to drain every last dime out of the US and the ISAF nations.

The major problem
with the Afghan National Security Forces -- other than the rampant corruption,
attrition and neptotism -- is the utter lack of institutional control in almost
all of their organizations. This is an inward-looking problem, however. The
major outward-looking problem associated with the ANSF is that we have built
multiple organizations that have no chance at long-term success because they
cost too much to sustain. Once the money dries up, the ANSF is toast and
everyone who worked in Kabul or with the Afghans at the Corps level or above
knows this.

Fuller was relieved
not because he told the truth - the Generals are not idiots who don't understand
what the situation with the ANSF is and will be. He was fired because he took
his frustrations out in public and embarrassed the Afghan Government, the US
government and military and the ISAF leadership.

Congress knows
everything that is going on with the ANSF. A DoD special Inspector General
makes quarterly visits to Kabul and releases quarterly
reports that are available on-line. If they wanted to end this kabuki
dance, they could slash funding and tell the Afghans to deal with the
consequences. Instead, we continue to pump money into the system. There are
systemic problems with the ANSF that have no solutions - unless you really want
to station 50,000 US Troops there for the next 30 years.

Two ways to access that 1983 Army War College paper on bad brigadier generals

In response to popular demand by you demanding Best
Defenders, the Army has created two ways to read that 1983 report I discussed
the other day about how one-quarter
of new brigadier generals were considered stinkers by battalion commanders who
had served under them.

One way is to click on this
link for a PDF. Or, if you are feeling particularly adept, you can follow
these instructions offered by the friendly folks at the Army's Military History Institute:
"Actually, anyone can access it from any computer. Just lead them to the
research portion of our website www.acho.army.mil & have them follow the instructions:

1. Click on the big "Digitized Materials" button

2. Enter the name "Reid, Tilden R." in the white
search box & click the "search all digitized material" box
immediately below

3. Scroll down the
results list and open the document!"

Army commander in Germany bounced

He acted inappropriately.
That is such a Washington word. I wish the Army would stop using weasel words.

Kind of amazing how many people are stepping down, maybe
seeing their public lives coming to an end these days. Paterno and his
president. Papandreou. Eddie Murphy. Heavy
D. Herman Cain? Rick
Perry? Berlusconi?

Oops.