“Jim,” Colonel Fulford said, “get your battalion back here.” “Sir,” I said, “we’re stepping off for a fifty-mile trek. I’ll arrive on base in about four days.” There was silence on the phone as the colonel contemplated being saddled with the least astute battalion commander in the Marine Corps. “I expect your advance party here by morning,” he said. “Everyone else tomorrow. And you may want to read a newspaper. We’re going to war.” I’d just received a blunt education about any unit commander’s role as the sentinel for his unit: You cannot allow your unit to be caught flat-footed. Don’t be
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