leadership

Requirement: Analyze and explain how multiple commanders applied the art of command while executing large scale combat operations using evidence from the “The Eighth Army Fights Back” case study. In your essay, discuss four of the eight concepts discussed in the curriculum to support your argument.   

Administrative Instructions:  “Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare.” This is an 
individual requirement, and your work must be original work; this means you cannot use any work from any previous assignment or course nor outside assistance in accordance with the ethical standards outlined. 

Your answer must be 
no less than 10 and no more than 12 pages (2500-3000 words)
, double-spaced, use 12-point Arial Font, and standard 1 inch margins. References and citations must be in accordance with ST 22-2. The rubric used to assess your answer is available on blackboard and provides the grading criteria and point breakdown for the essay question. late submission results in a reduction of ten points per day.

Case Study for L400

Art of Command

The Eighth Army Fights Back

Author: Dr. Thomas G. Bradbeer

“It is not often in wartime that a single battlefield commander can make a decisive difference. But in Korea, Ridgway would prove to be the exception. His brilliant, driving, uncompromising leadership would turn the tide of battle like no other general’s in our military history.”

General of the Army Omar N. Bradley[endnoteRef:1] [1: Omar N. Bradley and Clay Blair, A General’s Life, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 608.]

INTRODUCTION

On the night of 31 December 1950, the Chinese XIII Army Group of the Fourth Field Army, composed of 19 divisions, totaling more than 170,000 men, attacked United Nations forces in their defensive positions along the Imjin River near the 38th Parallel. Its mission: capture Seoul. This same group drove the Eighth Army out of North Korea in early December. Within hours, Chinese Communist Forces (CCF)[endnoteRef:2] penetrated the front lines of numerous units throughout the Eighth Army on a twenty-mile front.[endnoteRef:3] [2: Russell Spurr, Enter the Dragon: China’s Undeclared War against the U.S. in Korea, 1950-1951, (New York: Newmarket Press, 1988), xx. The Chinese identified their army as the Peoples Liberation Army (PLA) and that portion that operated within Korea as the Chinese Volunteer Force (CPV).] [3: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 38. The Chinese 3rd Phase Offensive is also identified by historians as The Chinese New Year’s Offensive.]

Lieutenant General Matthew B. Ridgway, commander of the Eighth Army, was at his advance command post (ACP) in Seoul when the Chinese attack began. He met previously with all three of his American corps commanders, and all but one of his division commanders. He learned about the coming Chinese offensive and concluded that “our forces were simply not mentally and spiritually ready for the sort of [offensive] action I planned. There was too much of a looking-over-your-shoulder attitude” indicative of a defeated Army.[endnoteRef:4] He directed his subordinate commanders to conduct reconnaissance to locate and determine the intent of the CCF units. During his assessment of the fighting capacity of these organizations, the competence of their leaders, and the terrain, Ridgway confirmed what he suspected, he took command of a shattered Eighth Army, with only three of the seven assigned U.S. divisions in the front line. All three divisions suffered heavy casualties in the first two weeks of December when the Eighth Army retreated under intense CCF pressure.[endnoteRef:5] He concluded that the “intelligence situation [within Eighth Army] was deplorable.”[endnoteRef:6] In one of his first briefings on the enemy situation, the Eighth Army G-2 depicted the location of the CCF “by a large red “goose egg” with “174,000” scrawled on its center. The true figure was closer to 300,000.”[endnoteRef:7] The G-2 also lacked detailed information about the types of CCF units that opposed Eighth Army, their locations, and their capabilities. [4: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 86.] [5: Robert C. Alberts, “Profile of a Soldier: Matthew B. Ridgway,” American Heritage, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, February 1976, 77.] [6: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 569.] [7: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 569.]

Having studied the terrain in front of the United Nations forces, Ridgway concluded that the CCF’s main effort would strike in the west, with the primary objective of capturing Seoul. To prevent the capture of Seoul, he directed Major General Frank W. Milburn, commander of (US) I Corps, and MG John Coulter, commander (US) IX Corps, to establish their main line of resistance along the Imjin River and prepare to fall back, on his orders, to defensive positions north of Seoul. To prevent CCF artillery from ranging as far south as Seoul and the Han River bridges, Ridgway ordered that the defensive perimeter extend from the outskirts of Seoul northwards to Uijongbu.[endnoteRef:8] [8: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 576.]

The Chinese Third Phase Offensive, 31 December 1950-7 January 1951. Courtesy: United States Military Academy, West Point

Unlike their previous offensive operations, the CCF began the third phase Chinese offensive with a massive artillery barrage. Following closely behind the barrage were tens of thousands of infantrymen blowing bugles and horns. The Chinese bypassed the US 24th and 25th Infantry Divisions defending the western corridor and focused on the boundary between the Republic of Korea (ROK) 1st and 6th Infantry Divisions, which served as a boundary between the US I and IX Corps.[endnoteRef:9] The Chinese quickly overwhelmed the ROK 1st Division that initiated a chaotic retreat, with devastating second order effects on the U.N. defensive positions. In the process, the US 9th Field Artillery Battalion, supporting the ROK 1st Division, lost four of its 155 mm howitzers and prime movers.[endnoteRef:10] The ROK 6th Division held its ground for several hours before the panic caused by the 1st Division’s destruction spread and all three regiments abandoned their positions, fleeing to the rear. This enabled the CCF to penetrate between the US 19th and 21st Infantry Regiments of MG John H. Church’s 24th Infantry Division. [9: The US 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Infantry Division, and 1st Marine Division were refitting in Pusan after their evacuation from Hungnam in December; the 1st Cavalry Division was in blocking positions behind the 24th and 25th Infantry Divisions; and the 2d Infantry Division was supporting ROK forces in the Wonju area.] [10: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 51.]

To the immediate right of the US IX Corps, two of the three regiments within the ROK 2d Infantry Division abandoned their positions, but the 17th regiment fought valiantly until it suffered more than 50% casualties, losing six of its 12 infantry companies and twenty-one artillery pieces.[endnoteRef:11] The CCF, supported by the North Korean People’s Army (NKPA) II and V Corps, overran the ROK II Corps and its four divisions defending the sector near the key terrain of Hongchon, just north of Wonju. Fortunately, Ridgway previously ordered the US 2d Infantry Division, under the command of MG Robert B. McClure, to move into defensive positions behind the ROK II Corps prior to the CCF attack. Its lead battalions arrived in the Hongchon area as the ROK units hastily withdrew. [11: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 49-51.]

Analyzing the terrain and disposition of his forces in the days before the CCF attack, and piecing together initial fragmentary reports from his units, Ridgway concluded that the collapse of the ROK 2d Division posed a major threat to the Eighth Army’s defensive line. The CCF was set to trap and encircle both US I and IX Corps. To prevent this from happening, Ridgway directed his staff to prepare orders for the Eighth Army to withdrawal as far south as Line D below Suwon. He directed that all units maintain contact with the CCF and position its withdrawing forces so they could conduct “punishing local counterattacks, inflicting maximum casualties on the advancing CCF.”[endnoteRef:12] [12: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 594.]

Ridgway left his ACP and moved to the battlefront to assess the situation in the ROK II Corps area. He did not get very far when he came upon remnants of the ROK 6th Division, in full retreat. Ridgway used his jeep to block their retreat and then stood in the road. Unable to speak Korean, and with no interpreter present, it was of little use. He had better luck stopping six trucks carrying American Soldiers from the 24th Infantry Division. With the help of a squad of MPs, he held them in place while he contacted their division commander, MG Church. Ridgway ordered Church to get the men back to their units, but it was evident to Ridgway that Church and his subordinate commanders, having escaped CCF encirclement at the Chongchon River in December, focused more on withdrawing out of harm’s way than fighting.

To plug the gap caused by the ROK 6th Division’s hasty retreat, Ridgway ordered the IX Corps commander, MG Coulter, to commit his reserve, the 27th Commonwealth Brigade, commanded by BG Basil A. Coad. This was the Commonwealth brigade’s first engagement of the war.[endnoteRef:13] With the Australian battalion in the lead, the brigade moved as fast as it could north towards Uijongbu. At the same time, the British 29th Brigade, under the command of BG Tom Brodie, served as the I Corps reserve. MG Milburn ordered Brodie to move his brigade forward and occupy the positions abandoned by the ROK 1st Division and cover the withdrawal of the US 25th Infantry Division. Of all U.N. forces on 1 January, the British brigade had the toughest task; attack north into the heart of the main Chinese XIII Army Group assault. As the 27th and 29th Brigades moved forward, the two US corps received orders to withdraw to their secondary defense line ten miles north of Seoul.[endnoteRef:14] Both the 29th and 27th Brigades fought well, avoided encirclement and enabled all ROK and US forces to withdraw to their new defensive positions.[endnoteRef:15] [13: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 52.] [14: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 52.] [15: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 52-53.]

Fortunately for Ridgway and the Eighth Army, the CCF stopped their advance to consolidate gains on 2 January, just south of the Imjin River. This pause allowed the Eighth Army to withdraw in an orderly fashion. After consulting with his two corps commanders that afternoon, Ridgway directed his staff to issue orders for all U.N. forces to evacuate Seoul and withdraw south of the Han River.

In discussions with our two U.S Corps Commanders, with the ROK Army Chief of Staff and with the Chief of KMAG, it became clear that a combination of enemy frontal attack and deep envelopment around our wide-open east flank, where the ROK had fled in panic, could soon place the entire army in jeopardy. I had not found sufficient basis for confidence in the ability of the troops to hold their positions, even if they were ordered to. Consequently, I asked our ambassador, on January 3, to notify President Rhee that Seoul would be once more evacuated and that withdrawal from our forward positions would begin at once.[endnoteRef:16] [16: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 95.]

Realizing that conducting a river crossing is one of the most complex operations to undertake during combat operations, Ridgway directed that the 1st Cavalry Assistant Division Commander, BG Charles D. Palmer, take charge of the crossing of the Han River, with full authority to do whatever required to ensure a successful crossing. Palmer spent the first six months of the war serving as the 1st Cavalry Division Artillery commander. Ridgway knew him from his excellent reputation as an artillery expert, and more importantly that he was “well regarded throughout the Army for his even temper, strict discipline, and ability to get things done without drama or fuss.”[endnoteRef:17] Ridgway’s confidence in Palmer was justified when the entire Eighth Army crossed the Han River with few complications over the next three days.[endnoteRef:18] [17: Stephen R. Taafe, MacArthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence KS; University Press of Kansas, 2016), 161.] [18: James F. Schnabel, “Ridgway in Korea,” Military Review, XLIV, No. 3 (March 1964): 11.]

The CCF resumed their offensive on 3 January as the Eighth Army continued what Ridgway assumed was a fighting withdrawal south of the Han. When he learned on the morning of 4 January that the British 29th Brigade had at least one battalion and several companies cut-off and surrounded, he ordered a relief operation to assist in their breakout southwards. By the time Ridgway understood the perilous situation of the British brigade, it was already too late. BG Brodie appreciated the US planning efforts to assist in a breakout, but realized the most practical course of action was to direct his subordinate units to breakout independently. Informed that the 29th Brigade suffered more than 300 casualties in their breakout effort, Ridgway was incensed. He believed “it was a disgrace to American arms to allow any other U.N. troops to be used as withdrawal rear-guard force in the face of the enemy” and directed shortly thereafter to all of his American commanders that from then on only US troops would be used to conduct rear guard operations.[endnoteRef:19] [19: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 74.]

The Chinese XIII Army spent 5-7 January moving southwards to the Han River, occupying Seoul and sending two divisions across the Han to occupy key terrain as a screening force to maintain contact with Eighth Army units as they withdrew. On 5 January, Ridgway ordered Operational Plan 20 into effect. This directed all Eighth Army units to withdraw to Line D (the Pyongtaek Line) forty miles south of Seoul and the Han River. By 7 January, all units closed on their new defensive positions.

RIDGWAY’S ASSESSMENT OF EIGHTH ARMY’S PERFORMANCE

Ridgway was not satisfied with the performance of the Eighth Army during the CCF offensive. It was clear to him that within the first twelve hours of the attack his units did not stand and fight. His disappointment in the performance of the two US corps, as well as the ROK corps, was evident in the letter he sent to his corps commanders on 7 January.

Reports so far reaching me indicate your forces withdrew to [Line D] without evidence of having inflicted any substantial losses on enemy and without material delay. In fact, some major units are reported as having broken contact. I desire prompt confirming reports and if substantially correct, the reason for non-compliance with my directives. From here on, the enemy has but two alternatives: (A) a time-consuming coordinated advance offering us minimum opportunities for inflicting punishment, but at least giving us much time, or; (B) an uncoordinated rapid follow-up, perhaps even a pursuit. The former permits accomplishment of part of our mission and the latter, unlimited opportunity for accomplishing all of it. I shall expect utmost exploitation of every opportunity in accordance with my basic directive.[endnoteRef:20] [20: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 91.]

Fortunately for Ridgway, the CCF ended their 3d phase offensive on 7 January and did not pursue the Eighth Army as it withdrew.[endnoteRef:21] The lack of pursuit was a godsend to Ridgway. It provided him the opportunity to take charge of his new command and correct the many deficiencies he identified during his battlefield circulation.[endnoteRef:22] [21: Only after the war would the three major reasons for this lack of pursuit be revealed. First, the CCF was exhausted, having conducted three offensive operations in three months and had suffered enormous casualties as a result. Second, the CCF could not provide the required supplies to continue offensive operations. Third, and most importantly, the lines of supply, already stretched to their limit, would become even more vulnerable to UN airpower the farther south the CCF advanced. ] [22: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 83-85.]

In command less than a week, Ridgway identified numerous problems needing immediate correction if he was to set the conditions for the Eighth Army to go on the offensive against the CCF. To transform the Eighth Army from a defeated organization into a cohesive and competent combat unit, capable of defeating the CCF, he believed he must first restore the fighting spirit and esprit de corps of the Eighth Army. Simply put, he believed that the Army must “have pride in itself, to feel confidence in its leadership, and have faith in its mission.”[endnoteRef:23] Ridgway concluded the lack of fighting spirit and low morale were symptoms of a much more critical problem; ineffective leaders at the division and corps level. The defeatist attitude he observed during the withdrawal through Seoul and beyond the Han River, convinced him that most of his subordinate commands required fresh leadership, especially at the division level. He attributed the lack of aggressiveness of his commanders to the six months of hard fighting and reverses the Eighth Army suffered in November and December 1950. On 8 January, Ridgway dispatched a personal letter to the Army Chief of Staff, General Lawton J. Collins, informing him of his initial assessment. [23: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 85. See also Matthew B. Ridgway, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway, (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1956), 204-206.]

During daylight of the first day following the hostile attack [1 January] my instructions were not complied with. That night I repeated them in person and during the daylight period both Corps, at my insistence, made an effort, but in my opinion, an inadequate one. Again and again, I personally instructed both Corps commanders to conduct their withdrawal as to leave strong forces so positioned as to permit powerful counterattacks with armored and infantry teams during each daylight period, withdrawing these forces about dark as necessary. These orders, too, failed of execution. Our infantry has largely lost the capabilities of their honored forefathers in American Military annals. They no longer think of operating on foot away from their transportation and heavy equipment. Let’s pour on the heat in our training and, above all, let’s be ruthless with our general officers if they fail to measure up.[endnoteRef:24] [24: Matthew B. Ridgway, Letter to General Lawton J. Collins, CS, 8 Jan 1951, Folder A-C, Box 17, Ridgway Papers, U.S. Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, PA. ]

This is Ridgway’s warning order to the chief of staff that he would replace most, if not all, corps and division commanders as soon as feasible. Intent on achieving his end-state of rebuilding the Eighth Army into an effective fighting force, Ridgway knew he must start at the top. To minimize controversy over his “housecleaning,” Ridgway made the recommendation to the Army chief of staff for a new policy that effectively rotated those corps and division commanders who completed six months of continuous duty in Korea back to the states. He also changed out commanders over a period of weeks and recommended that most, but not all, be given positive efficiency reports and promotion if deserved.[endnoteRef:25] [25: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War, (New York: Doubleday, 1988), 581. There is ample evidence that this announced “rotation policy” was successful in sending the message to both the media and civilians back in the U.S. that the officers in question were not being relieved but were being “replaced” after experiencing long, hard months of combat. Time Magazine reported in its March 5, 1951 edition that six corps and division level commanders had been replaced after providing great service in Korea. “Nearly all of the old command teams are back in the U.S. for jobs of first importance: applying battle experience gained in Korea to the training of the expanding Army at home.” Although this was partially true, these assignments were terminal for all but one of the individuals concerned.]

During his first week in command, Ridgway met with all three of his corps commanders; MG Frank W. Milburn (I Corps), MG John B. Coulter (IX Corps) and MG Edward M. Almond (X Corps), and began “housecleaning.” Ridgway replaced MG John Coulter and his lackluster chief of staff, Colonel Andrew Tycheson. Collins appointed Coulter to command IX Corps in August 1950, based on his combat experience, service in East Asia, and positive relationship with MacArthur and Almond.[endnoteRef:26] Ridgway wasn’t impressed with Coulter’s leadership abilities during the withdrawal to the Han, but he believed that Coulter was more useful to the Eighth Army by coordinating future operations with the ROK forces. Ridgway directed Coulter promoted to three stars and made him his deputy commander, serving as Eighth Army’s liaison to the ROK Army and President Rhee, who Coulter knew well from his postwar occupation tour in South Korea.[endnoteRef:27] [26: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 80.] [27: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 153. ]

Ridgway found both Milburn and Almond wanting, but decided to keep both men on the job. Milburn was an old and devoted friend of Ridgway and Almond was still MacArthur’s close confidant and chief of staff. Ridgway understood that Almond’s close relationship with MacArthur made it unwise to relieve the 10 Corps commander this early in his command tour. Yet this close relationship did not prevent Ridgway from asserting his authority as a commander. In their first meeting, Ridgway, in a fiery counseling session, notified Almond that he would no longer be operating independently of Eighth Army, and he would take all orders from him.[endnoteRef:28] Almond had a good reputation as being ‘a fighting general’ and Ridgway respected that quality in his subordinates. It was a competency that he demanded of all of his leaders. [28: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 572-573.]

Under his proposed rotation policy, Ridgway planned to replace four of the seven division commanders in sequence of when they arrived in Korea: MG Church (24th ID) arrived first in Korea, followed by MG Kean (25th ID), MG Gay (1st CAV), and MG Barr (7th ID). General Almond upset this planned schedule by insisting that Barr was incompetent. Almond held Barr personally responsible for the destruction of Task Force Faith in early December and recommended that Ridgway relieve him first, despite the fact that Barr was only in Korea four months. Ridgway agreed to revise the order to replace Barr first and Kean last.

Ridgway was not the only senior leader dissatisfied with the performance of the senior commanders. As the X Corps commander, Almond relieved MG Robert McClure (2d Infantry Division) on 13 January after an investigation of the division’s unauthorized retreat from Wonju on the last day of the CCF offensive. The withdrawal was poorly planned and executed during a snowstorm, and though Almond wanted to relieve McClure for his poor decision-making immediately, he took several days to conduct an investigation, knowing he would have to explain his actions to Ridgway. Though McClure made a good first impression with Ridgway, Ridgway supported Almond’s decision, believing the corps commander should have a voice in who his subordinate commanders were if they were to become an effective fighting team.[endnoteRef:29] To replace McClure, Ridgway agreed with Almond’s (and MacArthur’s) recommendation to place MG Clark “Nick” Ruffner, the X Corps chief of staff, in command of the 2d Infantry Division. Ruffner was the division’s third commander in less than five weeks. Ruffner possessed strong critical thinking skills, calmness under pressure, and keen use of tact. By assuming command of a division involved in more than its share of combat, subsequent defeats, and poor leadership over the last four months, his abilities as an organizational leader would be fully tested in the coming weeks.[endnoteRef:30] [29: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 167-168.] [30: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 167-169.]

Visiting each division command post in turn, Ridgway informed the commander of his new ‘rotation policy.’ For several it came as a tough blow no matter how tactfully Ridgway attempted to deliver the message. Arriving at the 24th Infantry Division headquarters, he met with the sickly fifty-eight-year-old MG John Church, who he planned to replace with the aggressive Major General Blackshear M. Bryan, now serving in the Caribbean Command. Visiting the 1st Cavalry Division Command Post, Ridgway reaffirmed his decision to relieve MG Gay and replace him with the tough-minded 1st Cavalry Division’s division artillery commander, Major General Charles D. Palmer, who performed superbly as the overall commander of the Eighth Army’s Han River crossing operation. Ridgway visited the 7th Infantry Division last and informed MG Barr that Major General Claude B. Ferenbaugh, would be the new commander.[endnoteRef:31] Of the six Army division commanders serving in Korea in January 1951, the only commander who remained in command throughout Ridgway’s time as the Eighth Army commander was MG Robert H. Soule, commander of the 3d Infantry Division. [31: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 160.]

Soule commanded an airborne infantry regiment and served as the chief of staff of the 11th Airborne Division in the Philippines in 1944-1945. Following the end of the war, he served as a military attaché in China from 1947 to 1950. Ridgway did not know Soule well, but Almond spoke highly of Soule’s “sound judgment, determination, energy and professionalism.”[endnoteRef:32] In Ridgway’s estimation, since Soule and his division arrived in Korea only eight weeks ago, and saw little fighting compared to the other six U.S. divisions, he deserved a chance to prove his abilities as a combat commander. [32: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 127.]

To command the 24th Infantry Division, Ridgway selected BG Blackshear ‘Babe’ Bryan. Ridgway and Bryan served together in the Athletic Department at West Point in the early 1920’s, and most recently Bryan served as Ridgway’s chief of staff while he was in command of the Caribbean Command. Unlike most of his peers, Bryan did not see combat in World War II, having served as a policy planner in Washington. Ridgway, however, felt that Bryan had the skills and leadership ability required to transform the 24th Infantry Division into a combat effective organization in a short amount of time.[endnoteRef:33] [33: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 160.]

Of the seven American division commanders, the one man who impressed Ridgway the most was the commander of the 1st Marine Division (MARDIV), Major General Oliver P. Smith. His leadership abilities and decision making during the Chosin Reservoir fighting in early December, not only saved his division from destruction, but by disobeying MG Almond’s orders to attack to the Yalu as fast as possible, he saved Almond’s X Corps from even heavier casualties than it sustained.[endnoteRef:34] Smith, a graduate of the University of California, Berkley, spent the First World War serving in the Marine garrison on Guam and did not see combat in the Second World War until the intense fighting on Cape Gloucester, Peliliu, and Okinawa. Having many pre and post-war assignments involving Marine and Army professional military schools, Smith was considered an intellectual. He was lean, tall, white-haired, and proved to be tough in combat and a leader who demonstrated common sense, a quick mind and moral courage. This is why the USMC Commandant selected Smith to take command of the 1st MARDIV in June 1950. [34: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 430. ]

Shortly after the 1st MARDIV closed in Korea, Smith ran afoul of his new commander, MG Almond, while attempting to share his expertise on amphibious operations during the planning for Operation Chromite-the Inchon landings. Though Almond had no experience of amphibious operations, he ignored Smith’s recommendations and did everything in his power to prevent the Marines from influencing the Army plan for the operation. The relationship deteriorated further during the subsequent landings at Inchon, the Battle for Seoul, and the near disaster in and around the Chosin Reservoir in December.

When Smith met Ridgway for the first time during the last week of December 1950, the two generals were equally impressed with one another. Ridgway later recorded that “Smith was top flight, a splendid commander. He was very calm and had extreme consideration for his troops. If it hadn’t been for his moral courage and doing some of the things he did, which were not in full accord with the instructions he received [from MG Almond] he’d lost a great part of that division.”[endnoteRef:35] Smith learned in their initial meeting that Ridgway had no plans for withdrawing the Eighth Army from Korea and instructed the 1st MARDIV staff to throw away their maps and plans for leaving the peninsula. Furthermore, Ridgway stated that as soon as it was practicable, they would launch limited counterattacks prior to conducting full-scale offensive operations. To the Marine commanders, Ridgway “brought a new fresh attitude, new fresh breath of life to the whole Eighth Army.”[endnoteRef:36] [35: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 579.] [36: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 579.]

FIND THEM! FIX THEM! FIGHT THEM! FINISH THEM!

After addressing the senior leadership problem within the Eighth Army, Ridgway directed that during the week of 8-15 January, both I and IX Corps conduct battalion size reconnaissance in force operations north of Line D to determine the CCF defensive positions. Ridgway intended that these small-scale offensive maneuvers instill a renewed fighting spirit in his Soldiers. He repeatedly stressed the seemingly forgotten Army infantry slogan to his commanders to: “Find them! Fix them! Fight them! Finish them!”[endnoteRef:37] Unfortunately, Ridgway’s assessment after the week of reconnaissance operations was not positive. Too many leaders and Soldiers were still looking over their shoulders, in what was termed ‘bug-out fever,’ anticipating a final Chinese offensive driving them to Pusan and eventual evacuation to Japan. This prompted Ridgway to write a personal letter to General Wade H. Haislip on the Army staff: [37: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 89.]

My one over-riding problem, dominating all others, is to achieve the spiritual awakening of the latent capabilities of this command. If God permits me to do that, we shall achieve more, far more, than our people think possible-and perhaps inflict a bloody defeat on the Chinese which even China will long remember, wanton as she is in the sacrifice of lives.[endnoteRef:38] [38: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 143.]

At the operational level, when they learned that MacArthur’s staff in Japan were working on plans to evacuate Eighth Army from the peninsula, it reinforced this “bug out fever.” The issue of whether or not Ridgway’s command would stay or leave had still not been resolved by 14 January.

It was only after the Chief of Staff of the Army, General J. Lawton Collins, accompanied by the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, flew to Japan to meet with MacArthur on 15 January that the issue came to a head. Collins informed MacArthur that President Truman wanted to delay any evacuation of Korea for as long as possible, without putting the Eighth Army at risk. Further clarification occurred when Collins and Vandenberg flew to Korea to meet with Ridgway and personally assessed the situation. Collins learned that the CCF made no move to push south of the Han River and upon counterattack they withdrew. Chinese prisoners confirmed that the CCF suffered from severe strain in their ability to resupply their armies due to U.S. and U.N. airpower. All of this was good news to Collins.[endnoteRef:39] [39: J. Lawton Collins, War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969), 254.]

Ridgway reiterated his plans to replace several of his corps and division commanders after his attempts to improve their performance failed. He no longer felt that his encouragement and admonishments to these commanders produced the ‘offensive spirit’ he knew they required. Ridgway informed Collins that he wanted MG Bryant E. Moore to replace MG Coulter and he would use Coulter as his deputy commander. Collins approved both recommendations.[endnoteRef:40] [40: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 230-237. ]

Believing the CCF were massing between Osan and Suwon, Ridgway wrote that “the most lucrative opportunity for destruction of enemy forces since [the] enemy attack began” would enable the Eighth Army to begin offensive operations and prove to every Soldier in his command that the days of ‘running away’ were over. On 14 January, he ordered MG Milburn, I Corps commander, to conduct a “strong armored attack” to “inflict maximum destruction on the enemy” and then “withdraw to present positions, leaving covering forces to maintain contact.”[endnoteRef:41] MG Coulter’s IX Corps, on I Corps right, provided flank security. It was at this time that Ridgway established his forward command post alongside Milburn’s Corps CP to “ignite the spark of initiative” that he found lacking in Milburn. In private he counseled Milburn that this attack “offers you an opportunity to be a brilliant instead of just a good corps commander.”[endnoteRef:42] [41: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 633-634.] [42: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 634.]

MG Milburn assigned the mission to MG Kean’s 25th Infantry Division with orders to attack the Suwon-Osan area. Kean selected the 27th Infantry Regiment (Wolfhounds) to serve as the main effort. Milburn tasked MG Soule’s 3d Infantry Division to send a smaller force to interdict the Suwon-Kumnyangjang portion of Route 20, as well as the ROK 1st Division to send several battalions to interdict Route 17 just south of Kumnyangjang.[endnoteRef:43] [43: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 237.]

OPERATION WOLFHOUND

The attack began on the morning of 15 January with the 27th Infantry Regiment in the lead. The very capable Colonel John H. (Mike) Michaelis commanded the Wolfhounds. Michaelis served in the 101st Airborne Division throughout World War II. During the Normandy campaign he assumed command of the 502d Parachute Infantry Regiment when the commander became incapacitated. Michaelis remained in command until severely wounded during Operation Market Garden in September 1944. He left the hospital early when the Battle of the Bulge began in mid-December and became the division chief of staff under MG Maxwell D. Taylor. After the war, he served in the Pentagon, where Army Chief of Staff Dwight D. Eisenhower rated him as one of the Army’s top four lieutenant colonels “of Extraordinary Ability.”[endnoteRef:44] [44: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 145.]

Michaelis served on the Eighth Army staff in Japan when the Korean War began. General Walker, aware of Michaelis’ exceptional combat record in the 101st, selected him to take command of the 27th Infantry Regiment just before it shipped out to Korea. Michaelis weeded out the weak leaders in his first days of command and put his battalions through a rigorous training program in the first few days in country. This effort paid great dividends, as his regiment halted the advancing North Korean forces at Masan during the first week of August 1950. “His charisma, aggressiveness, and willingness [to lead from the front]” as well as his effective use of fires in every operation, earned him high praise from Walker and more importantly, his men.[endnoteRef:45] As a paratrooper in XVIII Airborne Corps under Ridgway, the Eighth Army commander trusted and respected Michaelis’ leadership ability. Michaelis proved one of Eighth Army’s best regimental commanders during the Korean War. He received two battlefield promotions from Ridgway within six months, first to colonel and then to brigadier general.[endnoteRef:46] Supporting the Wolfhound’s three infantry battalions were two infantry battalions from the 3d Infantry Division, two ROK infantry battalions, three U.S. armor battalions, and three U.S. artillery battalions, in total around 6,000 men, 150 tanks and 54 artillery pieces.[endnoteRef:47] [45: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 41-42.] [46: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 693 and 706.] [47: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 237.]

The day before the attack, Ridgway met with Michaelis and talked briefly with the regimental commander. “Michaelis, what are tanks for?” he asked. “To kill, sir.” “Take your tanks to Suwon” Ridgway said. “Fine sir,” Michaelis answered. “It’s easy to get them there, getting them back is going to be more difficult because they [the Chinese] always cut the road behind you.” “Who said anything about coming back?” Ridgway answered. “If you can stay up there twenty-four hours, I’ll send the division up. If the division can stay up there twenty-four hours, I’ll send the corps up.”[endnoteRef:48] [48: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 502. ]

Michaelis units made good progress and captured Osan and the village of Kumnyangjang before encountering stiffening CCF resistance before dark. The following morning, the 27th advanced on the city of Suwon, but before they could seize their objective the CCF attacked the flanks of the U.S. units, cutting the road network behind the 27th. Ridgway and Milburn realized that the CCF were assembling in major strength at both Suwon and Kumnyangjang. Not wanting Michaelis’ cut off and trapped in Suwon, Ridgway directed Milburn to issue orders for the Wolfhounds to break off the attack and form a defensive line just south of Osan. The seven infantry battalions formed an east-west line with the armor and artillery battalions behind them. Ridgway hoped to lure the CCF to attack this position and slaughter them with overwhelming artillery fires and airpower, but the Chinese did not pursue. In the two- day operation, the CCF suffered 1,380 casualties, the majority from U.N. air strikes. Michaelis’ task force suffered three killed and seven wounded.[endnoteRef:49] [49: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 238.]

Operation Wolfhound failed to achieve its primary purpose of inflicting massive casualties on the CCF, but Ridgway achieved his secondary purpose of providing an opportunity to restore the fighting spirit amongst the Eighth Army. Four regiments from two different divisions attacked and engaged enemy forces, and for the first time in six weeks, the Eighth Army advanced northwards, conducting a successful combined arms operation without being overrun or defeated. Operation Wolfhound also demonstrated that allied forces could employ tanks in the Korean terrain. Just as important, for the third time since early December, the CCF refused to pursue withdrawing units. More importantly, Wolfhound provided a strong psychological morale boost to a major portion of Ridgway’s command.[endnoteRef:50] [50: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 634-637.]

During Operation Wolfhound, Collins and Vandenberg toured units across the Eighth Army, to include the British and Turkish brigades, talking to Soldiers; from general officers to privates. Everywhere they went, the two senior leaders observed well fed, well equipped, motivated professional Soldiers, who shared jokes with the senior leaders about so-called ‘CCF invincibility.’

This was not the “tired” and “embittered” Army with low morale that MacArthur described to them.[endnoteRef:51] On 17 January, Collins sent a message to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Omar N. Bradley. From Bradley’s perspective, the message “would mark a turning point in our views of the Korean War.”[endnoteRef:52] [51: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 644-647.] [52: Omar N. Bradley and Clay Blair, A General’s Life, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 622.]

Eighth Army in good shape and improving daily under Ridgway’s leadership. Morale very satisfactory considering conditions . . . No signs of disaffection or collapse . . . On the whole Eighth Army now in position and prepared to punish severely any mass attack.[endnoteRef:53] [53: J. Lawton Collins, War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969), 253-254.]

When Collins and Vandenberg returned to Washington, the Army chief of staff sent a memo to the Secretary of Defense, George C. Marshall, providing a succinct assessment of Ridgway’s command. “There is no cause for alarm over the present state of morale and fighting efficiency of the Eighth Army and ROK forces.”[endnoteRef:54] When Collins and Vandenberg briefed President Truman, his cabinet, and the National Security Council on 19 January, the president breathed a sigh of relief. From that day forward the president and most senior political and military leaders in Washington “looked beyond MacArthur to Ridgway for reliable military assessments and guidance” on what was taking place on the battlefield in Korea. The debates and rumors of a potential evacuation from the Korean peninsula ended that day.[endnoteRef:55] [54: Omar N. Bradley and Clay Blair, A General’s Life, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 623.] [55: Omar N. Bradley and Clay Blair, A General’s Life, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 623.]

“WHY WE ARE HERE? AND WHAT ARE WE FIGHTING FOR?”

Transitioning to command is never easy, but for MG Clark ‘Nick’ Ruffner it was even more difficult. He was the third commanding general for the 2d Infantry Division in little more than a month, which indicated a dysfunctional leadership climate. Upon arrival, Ruffner found plenty of dissension and very little teamwork amongst his staff and senior leaders. The division, still recovering from the multiple defeats it suffered at the hands of the CCF in November and December, also incorporated hundreds of newly arrived replacements while still consolidating its defensive positions on Line D. With little time to plan after receiving the order to occupy Wonju, Ruffner directed a course of action, coaching his staff through the orders process before briefing his subordinate commanders.[endnoteRef:56] [56: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987),647-648.]

Ruffner’s 2d Infantry Division units entered Wonju, found the enemy not completely withdrawn, and an intense engagement occurred. Ridgway and his pilot, informed by Almond’s X Corps staff that the enemy left the city, requested permission to land at the airfield. The task force commander denied permission due to intense fighting taking place around the airfield, so Ridgway observed the fighting from the air. Wonju was captured after a “classic fixed-bayonets, hand-grenade assault” against the North Korean positions.[endnoteRef:57] The advance continued north, capturing the village of Hoengsong where the U.S. force encountered a brigade sized element of NKPA. After an intense fire-fight, the enemy abandoned the village, leaving their dead and wounded behind. [57: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 647-648.]

It would take several months for MG Ruffner to correct all of the deficiencies within his division, but he earned Ridgway’s praise for providing strong and steady leadership to a unit where it was absent before the new commander’s arrival. To reinforce his efforts of further motivating his Soldiers and restoring the fighting spirit across the Eighth Army, Ridgway issued one of his most famous communiques of his entire career. It is known as the “Why We Are Here? And What Are We Fighting For?” statement and issued to all members of his command on 21 January. After clearly answering the first question, Ridgway shared his perspective to answer the second question. In part, he stated:

. . . This has long since ceased to be a fight for freedom for our Korean Allies alone and for their national survival. It has become, and it continues to be, a fight for our own freedom, for our own survival, in an honorable, independent national existence. The sacrifices we have made, and those we shall yet support, are not offered vicariously for others, but in our own direct defense.

In the final analysis, the issue now joined right here in Korea is whether Communism or individual freedom shall prevail; whether the flight of fear-driven people we have witnessed here shall be checked, or shall at some future time, however distant, engulf our own loved ones in all its misery and despair.

These are the things for which we fight. Never have members of any military command had a greater challenge than we, or a finer opportunity to show ourselves and our people at their best-and thus to do honor to the profession of arms, and to those brave men who bred us.[endnoteRef:58] [58: Matthew B. Ridgway, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway, (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1956), 207-208.]

Ridgway’s message did much to inform his Soldiers on what they were fighting and dying for in Korea. As noted, Korean War historian Clay Blair recorded, “Compared with the purple bombast from MacArthur and the melodramatic and absurd “stand or die” rhetoric from Johnnie Walker, [Ridgway’s declaration] was a masterpiece.”[endnoteRef:59] [59: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 650.]

OPERATION THUNDERBOLT AND OPERATION ROUNDUP

With the success of Operation Wolfhound, Ridgway believed that his units regained enough fighting spirit and skill required to conduct large-scale offensive operations. He directed on 23 January that both I and IX Corps execute a two corps attack within forty-eight hours. He did have one major concern with the operation. Informed through several intelligence channels that the Russians reinforced the CCF Air Force with squadrons of the latest Soviet fighter-bombers and MIG-15 jet fighters (possibly flown by well-trained Russian pilots), Ridgway knew the risk he assumed. He issued orders warning of possible air attacks and directed all units, to include those in the rear areas, to incorporate dispersion and camouflage measures, as well as ensure procedures were in place to warn of any enemy air attacks. Reflecting on his days as a paratrooper, Ridgway warned his commanders of the possibility of a CCF airborne operation on units in the division and corps rear areas.[endnoteRef:60] [60: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 651-653.]

The plan for Operation Thunderbolt was two corps attack northwards, with both corps abreast, advancing approximately twenty miles into CCF controlled territory. I Corps advances to the south bank of the Han River to Yongdungpo, recapturing Inchon and Kimpo Airfield. To I Corps’ right, IX Corps advances to the Han River, seizes the rail and road center at Yangpyong, which the CCF uses to move troops into the Wonju sector. Per Ridgway’s directive, the two corps “inflict maximum casualties” on the CCF. No UN forces cross the Han River. Ridgway also directed the attack starts with a gradual commitment of force, with one division from each corps supported by ROK units in the lead. If the CCF did not counterattack, the remainder of the two corps advance. The attack was a slow methodical advance, tightly controlled by the use of phase lines. No enemy units were bypassed. Designated units protect the division and corps rear areas from expected NKPA guerrilla activity.[endnoteRef:61] [61: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 654.]

To verify that he was not sending his units into a trap, Ridgway conducted a personal reconnaissance by air. His pilot was General Earl Partridge, commander of the Fifth Air Force, whose units support the Eighth Army attack. They flew twenty miles into CCF controlled territory with neither Ridgway nor Partridge seeing any conclusive evidence of enemy in the area. Ridgway was convinced that with their expertise at camouflage, the CCF units were hidden in the forested areas and small villages scattered throughout the area.

His mind at ease, Ridgway ordered the attack. On the morning of 25 January, both I and IX Corps advanced, with close air support, naval gunfire support, and a massive amount of artillery. By the following morning, units from MG Bill Kean’s 25th Infantry Division captured the city of Suwon after intense fighting. Both I and IX Corps continued to advance against stiffening Chinese resistance.

On the second day of the assault, Ridgway visited X Corps headquarters to conduct a scheduled change of command ceremony. MG Claude Ferenbaugh took command of 7th Infantry Division, replacing MG Barr, and BG Blackshear Bryan assumed command of the 24th Infantry Division from MG Church.[endnoteRef:62] [62: Upon return to the U.S., MG David G. Barr took command of the Armor Center at Fort Knox and MG John H. Church took command of the Infantry Center at Fort Benning.]

On 28 January, Ridgway directed MG Coulter to reinforce the 1st Cavalry Division with the 24th Infantry Division. He directed that MG Milburn reinforce the 25th Infantry Division with the 3d Infantry Division. With I Corps advancing in five columns to designated phase lines, the Turkish brigade moved forward on the right flank of I Corps. The Turkish brigade earned high praise from their American allies for their attack east of Suwon against Hill 156. Fixing bayonets, the Turks assaulted the CCF positions just after midnight, advancing up the 400-yard slope in freezing cold and icy conditions. They encountered nearly a regiment of infantry, engaged in drawn-out hand-to-hand combat and by daylight captured the hill, leaving nearly 500 Chinese dead scattered across the hilltop.[endnoteRef:63] [63: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 161-163.]

When Ridgway heard of the Turkish “bayonet charge” on Hill 156 it was exactly the short-term win he needed to demonstrate the vast improvement in fighting spirit throughout the Eighth Army. He directed all Soldiers to fix bayonets for the remainder of Operation Thunderbolt and henceforth during future offensive operation.[endnoteRef:64] [64: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 656-657.]

The command greatly needed something to symbolize the birth of a new spirit. Restoration of the bayonet, and a dramatization of that action, was at one with the simple message given to the troops: “The job is to kill Chinese.” Once men could be persuaded that those in other units were deliberately seeking the hand-to-hand contest with the enemy, they would begin to feel themselves equal to the overall task. There can be no question about the efficacy of this magic in the particular situation. IT WORKED![endnoteRef:65] [65: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 657.]

By 30 January, Operation Thunderbolt transitioned into a full-scale attack as Ridgway envisioned, with four U.S. divisions, two ROK regiments, and the Turkish brigade advancing northwards. He assumed risk by leaving only the British brigade (in I Corps) and the Commonwealth brigade (in IX Corps) in reserve. To maintain the initiative, Ridgway devised Operation Roundup and alerted MG Almond, whose X Corps advanced northwards in the center, along with the ROK III Corps, to attack from Wonju to Hongchon on 5 February, with the intent of conducting a double envelopment of the North Korean II and V Corps, both units which were regrouping east of Route 29.[endnoteRef:66] [66: J. Lawton Collins, War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969), 257-258. See also Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 246. ]

The following day, MG Bryant Moore assumed command of IX Corps. Moore commanded the 8th Infantry Division while it was attached to Ridgway’s XVIII Airborne Corps in 1944-1945 during the advance into Germany. Ridgway admired Moore’s leadership skills, even though their leadership styles were almost complete opposites. Where Ridgway was forceful and directive, Moore was calm and mild-mannered. Just before the outbreak of the Korean War, Ridgway asked Moore if he would serve as one of his corps commanders if the situation ever warranted it. Moore responded with a hearty “I’d thoroughly enjoy it.”[endnoteRef:67] [67: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 154.]

The 24th Infantry Division attacked on the right flank of the 1st Cavalry Division, above Inchon and Yoju where the Han River curved sharply southeast, and met major resistance on 1 February. Ridgway and Moore observed several of MG Bryan’s battalions achieve what Ridgway considered “the true measure of tactical success―key terrain, a vital mountain pass―seized with heavy losses inflicted and only light losses sustained.”[endnoteRef:68] Ridgway attributed the 24th’s success to excellent organizational leadership, from the division commander down to the battalion commanders selection of terrain for advancing into the enemy positions, coordinating fires from supporting air and artillery, and being at the critical time and place on the battlefield. With a rare smile in front of his subordinates, Ridgway informed both Moore and Bryan that each of these elements provided examples of what right looks like when attacking an entrenched enemy.[endnoteRef:69] [68: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 663.] [69: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 664.]

THE BATTLE OF TWIN TUNNELS

Pushed out of their defensive positions, Eighth Army intelligence determined that the CCF were shifting their forces from the western sector to the central sector, enabling them to mass their forces at a rail and road network near Chipyong, the “gateway” to the central front. Ridgway ordered Almond to probe Chipyong to determine the enemy disposition there. Almond selected the 2d Infantry Division’s Colonel Paul Freeman, commander of the 23d Regimental Combat Team (RCT), to carry out this mission.

Freeman spent most of World War II as a plans officer and did not get the chance to command Soldiers in combat. Just before the Korean War began, he assumed command of the 23d Infantry Regiment. He was known for his intellect, a dry sense of humor, and was considered a charismatic leader by his commanders and those who worked with him. His two shortcomings were his tendency to be self-centered and at times, overly pessimistic.[endnoteRef:70] [70: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 41-42.]

Freeman sent a sixty-man patrol across the Han River by vehicle. Upon arriving at the village of Sichon there were two end-to-end railway tunnels identified by U.S. commanders as Twin Tunnels. The men left their vehicles and moved towards Chipyong, where they were ambushed by a regiment of CCF as darkness fell. The patrol suffered heavy casualties and radioed back to regimental headquarters they were surrounded on Hill 453 and about to be overrun. Freeman ordered F Company, 2-23 Infantry, to rescue the ambushed patrol. The company commander, Captain Stanley Tyrrell, moved his unit as quickly as they could to aid the trapped Soldiers. Using overwhelming firepower, Tyrrell’s company forced the CCF units to abandon the hill, rescuing the survivors. Of the sixty men starting the patrol, thirteen were killed in action, another five missing and presumed dead, thirty wounded, and only twelve unscathed. The patrol confirmed the CCF occupied Chipyong and were massing there forces there.[endnoteRef:71] [71: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 520-530. ]

Once notified of this, Ridgway ordered Almond’s X Corps to move his forces towards Twin Tunnels to prevent the CCF from counterattacking southwards down the Han River valley. Being closest to the area, Colonel Freeman’s regiment had the mission. Freeman moved with two of his battalions, 3-12 Infantry and the attached French battalion supported by five tanks, several track mounted Twin-40 and Quad 50 anti-aircraft guns, and the 37th Field Artillery Battalion in support, with his 2-23 Infantry in reserve on the Yoju-Wonju road. Freeman’s regiment reached Twin Tunnels mid-afternoon and prepared defensive positions before dark.

The 2d Infantry Division’s Assistant Division Commander (ADC), BG George Stewart, accompanied Freeman’s forces to Twin Tunnels. MG Almond arrived by helicopter and was not happy with Freeman or Stewart for not moving further north to a village three miles north of Twin Tunnels before establishing their defense. He ordered Stewart to personally conduct a reconnaissance of the village before dark. Though he knew the order was foolhardy, Stewart believed that Almond might relieve him if he did not carry out his commander’s order, so he ‘borrowed’ a tank and drove northwards. Upon arriving in the village, he could not see any signs of the CCF so he ordered the crew to fire both their machine gun and main gun over the roofs of the houses so as not to inflict any civilian casualties and see if the CCF might show themselves.[endnoteRef:72] [72: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 665.]

Freeman became incensed when he heard the weapons fire, believing that the CCF were now aware of the American presence at Twin Tunnels. Eight hours later, in the early morning hours of 1 February, Freeman’s concerns proved correct when the CCF’s 125th Division attacked his perimeter in force. The Chinese encountered a horrific barrage of fire and suffered heavy casualties before retreating. They attacked again a few hours later, attempting to overrun Hill 453, defended by the French battalion under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Monclar. A veteran of both World Wars, he was wounded seven times and decorated ten times for his actions in combat in the First World War. He voluntarily took a demotion to lieutenant colonel to command the only French unit sent to fight in the Korean War.[endnoteRef:73] [73: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 68-70.]

The French defeated every Chinese attack, inflicting and sustaining heavy casualties in the process. Just when it looked like the French would lose the hilltop, which Freeman identified as the key terrain within his defense, the French Soldiers counter-attacked with fixed bayonets and forced the Chinese to retreat, leaving behind their dead and wounded.

The CCF continued to attack throughout the day, taking advantage of the bad weather which negated any close air support to Freeman’s regiment. It took BG Stewart several minutes to convince his division commander, MG Ruffner, over the radio, that Freeman’s regiment required reinforcements if they were to stave off any future CCF attacks. Additionally, the 23d Infantry Regiment was running short of ammunition. Ruffner ordered two battalions to move to Freeman’s assistance and a third to reinforce Freeman’s 2-23d Infantry at Twin Tunnels.[endnoteRef:74] [74: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 666.]

By late afternoon, the situation was desperate. Wave after wave of Chinese Soldiers attacked Freeman’s battalions. The French were in danger of being pushed off Hill 453 and one of the two American battalion’s suffered heavy casualties. As a last-ditch effort, Freeman developed plans for an inner perimeter where the 23d would make their “last stand.”[endnoteRef:75] The ADC, BG Stewart, believed Freeman’s regiment would not last another twenty minutes without reinforcements. Almost miraculously, the sun broke through the overcast. Within minutes, four Marine aircraft appeared above the American positions, strafing and bombing the attacking CCF formations massing for another assault. Over the next hour more than twenty-five flights of four Marine aircraft pounded the Chinese until they broke and ran from the 23d’s defensive positions. With the Marine aircraft pursuing the retreating Chinese units, Freeman gave the order to counterattack. Combining his artillery, anti-aircraft weapons, and tanks, the Americans destroyed the remnants of the fleeing Chinese. Freeman notified MG Ruffner that night that the CCF 125th Infantry Division “could be eliminated as an effective unit.”[endnoteRef:76] The Chinese left 1,200 dead and 2,400 wounded on the battlefield. Freeman’s regiment suffered 225 casualties, most in the French battalion and 3-23 Infantry.[endnoteRef:77] [75: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 667.] [76: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 667.] [77: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 122. See also Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 667.]

The battle of Twin Tunnels was over. It started as a probing attack and resulted in a major victory for the Eighth Army. For the first time, an American unit repulsed a major CCF attack and destroyed the attacking enemy division in the process. The fighting however, had just begun for the 23d RCT. Now dangerously short of all classes of supplies and twenty miles north of the U.N. lines, it was too dangerous to send ground convoys back to retrieve the required supplies. With the bad weather preventing aerial resupply, MG Ruffner solved the problem by directing his logisticians to move the regimental supply base at Yoju forward to support the 23d, and also ordered the 9th Infantry Regiment secure the forward logistics base and the roads leading to the 23d.[endnoteRef:78] [78: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 270-272.]

As Ridgway and his staff suspected, the CCF commander, General Peng Dehuai, planned to launch his own offensive to counter the advancing Eighth Army towards the Han River. With his 125th Division decisively engaged by the 23d RCT at Twin Tunnels, and the Second Infantry Division’s seizure of Chipyong-ni while his forces were still assembling in the Hongchon area, Peng made the decision to initiate the Chinese 4th Phase Offensive a week earlier than planned. This was the prelude to the battle of Chipyong-ni, which both Ridgway and Peng understood as part of a bigger struggle for the control of Wonju and the critical transportation network leading southwards through the central corridor of Korea.[endnoteRef:79] [79: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 519. ]

After a planning meeting with Ridgway and his corps commander, MG Almond, MG Ruffner assigned Colonel Freeman and the 23d RCT its new mission, once resupplied. “Dominate the road center of Chipyong-ni and occupy the high ground in the vicinity so as to protect the right flank of the IX Corps and establish a western anchor of an X Corps line of departure for the offensive.”[endnoteRef:80] In its simplest form, the 23d was to seize Chipyong-ni and transition to the defense to serve as flank protection for IX Corps attack until receiving further orders. [80: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 125.]

On 3 February 1951, the 23d moved out of their positions at Twin Tunnels and advanced northwards until they entered Chipyong-ni. By road, the village was four miles north of Twin Tunnels. Freeman stressed caution to his subordinate commanders, expecting to be attacked by well camouflaged CCF units while his flank units moved along the high ground on either side of the road where his main effort was advancing. By late afternoon the 23d RCT closed on Chipyong-ni.

As Freeman’s units established their defensive perimeter, the rest of the Eighth Army continued its advance northwards. In the far western sector, MG Milburn’s I Corps attacked towards the Han River and heavily engaged the CCF Fiftieth Army. To I Corps’ right flank, MG Moore’s IX Corps fought the CCF Thirty-Eighth Army in mountainous terrain north of Ichon and Yoju. The Eighth Army G2 identified seven other CCF armies in Korea, but could not confirm their specific locations. He further believed that the CCF Forty-second Army was advancing towards the central corridor and Chipyong-ni. Ridgway was concerned that these ‘missing’ armies might be massing for a major Chinese counter-offensive against Almond’s X Corps.

Shortly after the 23d RCT arrived in Chipyong-ni, it seemed like the entire Eighth Army chain of command descended on Freeman’s headquarters. Almond and Ruffner were the first to arrive at the command post, followed by Ridgway and the Assistant Secretary of the Army, Earl D. Johnson. Ridgway awarded Colonel Freeman the Distinguished Service Cross and informed his audience that the French battalion commander, Monclar was a “magnificent Soldier.”[endnoteRef:81] [81: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 667-668.]

After the departure of the senior leaders, Freeman directed his units occupy the largest ring of low hills they could effectively man while keeping a small reserve. When he established defensive positions, the perimeter was in somewhat of an oval shape, measuring about a mile and a half from east to west and a mile from north to south. The position was just large enough to enable all of his units to locate inside of it as well as a drop zone for aerial resupply and a short airfield.[endnoteRef:82] [82: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 127-128.]

THE BATTLE OF CHIPYONG-NI

As the men of the 23d RCT continued to work on their defensive positions, it became more apparent that they were going to stay in this location far longer than they expected. For the next ten days they continued to dig and fortify their positions in the freezing temperatures while Colonel Freeman sent out patrols to ascertain future enemy intentions. Fire support officers planned mortar and artillery fire-plans so they would not need to adjust fire once the Chinese attacked. The attached engineers constructed bunkers with overhead cover and assisted the infantry in establishing barbed wire obstacle belts across the most likely avenues of approach into the perimeter.

Infantry platoons established and dug-in outpost lines a hundred yards in front of the forward fighting positions. When dusk came, the infantry laid out trip flares and booby traps detonated by wires trailing back to the main line of defense. Barrels of fougasse (French for land mine) were buried forward of the front lines. A mixture of napalm and gasoline in a fifty-five-gallon drum and fused by a small charge of C4, the fougasse was buried at an angle towards an approach to a position and could be electronically detonated, spreading a sheet of flame more than ten yards wide and forty yards long.[endnoteRef:83] Signalmen also buried three redundant sets of wire from the forward positions to each company and battalion headquarters. MG Ruffner and his G4 ensured the logisticians provided Freeman’s regiment two weeks’ worth of ammunition ensuring the shortages that occurred during the fighting at Twin Tunnels was not repeated.[endnoteRef:84] [83: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 34-35.] [84: Kenneth E. Hamburger, Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003), 133.]

As the days passed, Colonel Freeman became very concerned that his regiment was in an extremely vulnerable position. First, his unit was out of range of most of the divisional artillery and twelve miles from friendly forces. His only physical link to the outside world was the small airstrip that he built within the perimeter. Each day aircraft flew in, bringing more and more Class V and barrier material to his position. So much ammunition was delivered that he was convinced his men would not be able to carry it all when they advanced northwards in pursuit of the CCF.

While Colonel Freeman prepared for the impending CCF attack on Chipyong-ni, MG Almond developed a plan, code-named Operation Roundup, which enabled both his X Corps and the ROK III Corps to conduct a double envelopment of the CCF units believed massing in and around Hongchon.[endnoteRef:85] To support the ROK 8th Division, Almond formed Support Force 21, consisting of 1-38th Infantry Battalion, the 15th Field Artillery Battalion (FAB) with 105 mm howitzers, and a battery of 155 mm towed howitzers, as well an anti-aircraft battery. He placed them under the command of the ROK 8th Division commander. Support Force 21 was commanded by the 15th FAB commander, Lieutenant Colonel John W. Keith, Jr., The ROK leadership had little time to plan and prepare for the attack or to coordinate with their supporting American forces. As he did during the Chosin Reservoir battle in December, Almond once again split his forces, scattering the four battalions of the 38th Infantry Regiment over four separate locations where they could not provide support to one another along the Hongchon-Wonju road.[endnoteRef:86] [85: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 249-250.] [86: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 268-272.]

Early on 11 February, the Eighth Army G2 informed Ridgway that there was substantial intelligence confirming that the Chinese were moving units towards Wonju. Ridgway notified his subordinate commanders to assume a defensive posture in preparation for a major CCF counterattack. Almond and his staff received the order, but delayed passing it on to the subordinate units within X Corps and the ROK divisions attached to X Corps. When it was finally issued, it was too late as the ROK divisions already initiated their assault.[endnoteRef:87] Many of the senior leaders within the 2d Infantry Division, especially the ADC, BG George Stewart, complained to Almond that they did not have sufficient time for the American and South Korean staffs to coordinate their attack plan. They argued the plan entailed too much risk.[endnoteRef:88] [87: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 550. ] [88: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 543.]

The ROK 5th and 8th Divisions advanced into what quickly became a disastrous meeting engagement with four CCF divisions, who quickly surrounded the ROK regiments and overran them. It was eerily reminiscent of what the CCF did to several ROK and U.S. divisions the previous November and December within Eighth Army and X Corps. The ROK 8th Division suffered more than 9,800 casualties, losing all its equipment, fourteen 105 mm, and 75 mm howitzers. Less than 3,200 men escaped the encirclement. The CCF units advanced rapidly through what was left of the 8th ROK Division and threatened to encircle Support Force 21.

The commander of Support Force 21, Lieutenant Colonel Keith, Jr., realizing the immense danger, radioed his division artillery commander, BG Loyal M. Haynes, for permission to withdraw three miles to positions his battalion previously occupied.[endnoteRef:89] Haynes would not give authorization without getting approval from the division commander, MG Ruffner, who then requested permission from the corps commander for the artillery to pull back to more defensible positions. By the time Almond gave permission two hours later, it was too late. Knowing Ridgway’s directive to protect artillery at all cost, Almond ordered Keith to conduct a fighting withdrawal to Hoengsong where the Dutch battalion was preparing its perimeter defense.[endnoteRef:90] After a series of CCF ambushes, which disabled the vehicles towing the artillery, and with 1-38th Infantry suffering heavy casualties while protecting the artillery batteries, Keith made the decision to abandon the howitzers and their trucks north of Hoengsong.[endnoteRef:91] The CCF captured nineteen howitzers (fourteen 105 mm and five 155 mm) and more than 120 trucks, carrying hundreds of wounded Soldiers.[endnoteRef:92] Keith, wounded twice during the withdrawal, was listed as missing in action when Support Force 21 closed the next day at Hoengsong.[endnoteRef:93] [89: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 267-269.] [90: The Dutch Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Marinus P.A. den Ouden fought valiantly to hold their positions at Hoengsong which enabled 1-38 and 2-38 Infantry battalions to withdraw southwards to Wonju. Den Ouden and four of his staff officers were killed in action defending their command post. The Dutch Battalion was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation by General Ridgway after the battle of Wonju.] [91: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 689-690.] [92: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 689-690.] [93: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 278.]

Within a matter of hours, the ROK 3d and 5th Divisions fell back from the massive frontal assaults that struck them, with the CCF inflicting nearly 1,200 casualties on each division.[endnoteRef:94] The route of the three ROK divisions endangered all U.N. positions in and around Wonju, including Chipyong-ni, ten miles to the northwest. Over the next forty-eight hours, the 2d Infantry Division suffered heavy losses to each of its infantry regiments as well as its supporting artillery battalions. Several American commanders believed the losses a direct result of Almond’s overbearing leadership style where his subordinates feared him and were afraid to make their own decisions without his approval. The complicated and overly aggressive plan of attack not approved by the Eighth Army commander also contributed to the failure.[endnoteRef:95] [94: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 279.] [95: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 667.]

When word reached Freeman that three ROK divisions to his left was destroyed at Hoegson and that X Corps consolidated its units around the Wonju area, he became more concerned that his regiment was encircled. He learned that in less than six hours the ROK 8th Division was destroyed, and both the ROK 3d and 5th Divisions were combat ineffective. The only unit standing in the way of the CCF was the 23d RCT and with Almond now directing retrograde operations for all X Corps but his, a huge gap was created in Freeman’s right flank.

Freeman met with both his division and corps commanders, MG Ruffner and MG Almond, and requested permission to withdraw the 23d RCT to Yoju. Both Ruffner and Almond agreed, but Ridgway disapproved the request. “Ridgway was determined to hold Chipyong-ni, the hinge between IX Corps and X Corps, even if he had to send all of Eighth Army reserves and part of IX Corps into the battle to do so.”[endnoteRef:96] Almond notified Freeman that Ridgway disapproved his request and he should ready for the CCF assault at any moment. Ridgway promised Freeman that if the 23d RCT stayed and fought, he would make sure a relief force would get through to them. Ridgway ordered Colonel Marcel Crombez’s 5th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division, and BG Tom Brodie’s 29th British Brigade to prepare to move to the relief of the 23d RCT through Yoju. He also directed that MG O. P. Smith’s 1st Marine Division prepare to move to the Hoengsong-Chipyong-ni area and attached them to the IX Corps.[endnoteRef:97] [96: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 257-258.] [97: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 263.]

After daylight, 13 February, Freeman sent out patrols nearly a mile in each direction. These patrols reported heavy enemy activity in the north, east, and west. Air reconnaissance confirmed large groups of Chinese moving towards the 23d RCT from the north and east. Artillery and 40 air sorties attacked these formations throughout the day, but as darkness came on the Chinese moved into assembly areas and prepared for a night attack. In the early evening, a resigned but determined Freeman held a commander’s conference and notified his commander’s that they were surrounded so “We’ll stay here and fight it out.”[endnoteRef:98] The good news was that help was on the way in the form of the 5th Cavalry and the 29th British Brigade.[endnoteRef:99] [98: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 697.] [99: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 697.]

After signaling their intentions with a chorus of bugles and drums, the CCF initiated a five division assault (estimated to be about 35,000 to 40,000 men) against Freeman’s 23d RCT at 2230. Firing a combined mortar and artillery barrage from three directions, the CCF pummeled the perimeter and the center of Freeman’s position. Simultaneously, CCF infantry stormed the outer defenses and sustained heavy casualties from the antipersonnel mines, booby-traps, and fougasse mines. Freeman’s Soldiers held their fire until the Chinese got into the barbed wire obstacles in front of them. Calling down a storm of artillery and mortar fire of their own, along with crew served weapons fire, quad-50s from the anti-aircraft battery, and tanks, the first assault wave of Chinese virtually disappeared.[endnoteRef:100] The CCF continued to attack throughout the night, but repulsed from all sides they withdrew just before dawn. [100: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 263-264.]

During the fighting, Colonel Freeman was wounded by a mortar fragment in his left leg and treated by his regimental surgeon. Under normal circumstances, they would evacuate him, but with his unit involved in heavy combat, Freeman would not even consider it. Once the surgeon finished bandaging the wound, Freeman immediately went back to conducting battlefield circulation of the forward positions, but now with a noticeable limp. When General Almond heard that Freeman was wounded, he ordered his X Corps G3, Colonel John H. Chiles, flown into the 23d’s perimeter and assume command. Once again, per his command style, Almond failed to use the chain of command. MG Ruffner learned of the directed change of command several hours later from a very incensed COL Freeman, who argued that his wounds were not severe enough for him to give up command, especially in the middle of a battle.

Relieving the wounded Freeman gave General Almond a chance to replace the commander who he considered a disloyal follower. Freeman verbally disagreed with Almond on many tactical and operational issues since the battle of Seoul the previous September, but his reputation of being one of Ridgway’s best regimental commanders in the Eighth Army prevented Almond from relieving Freeman.

The Battle of Chipyong-ni, 13 -15 February 1951

Map courtesy of United States Military Academy, West Point

When notified of his evacuation out of the perimeter on the orders of the corps commander, Freeman refused to give up command while his unit was under attack. He argued his position with his division commander, MG Ruffner, who failing to convince Freeman to obey a direct order from the corps commander, turned the issue over to his ADC, BG Stewart. Ruffner and Stewart understood that once Almond made a decision, there was no changing his mind. Stewart warned the regimental commander that by disobeying Almond’s order to give up command he faced far more serious consequences once the fighting was over.[endnoteRef:101] [101: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 566.]

Freeman refused to relinquish command or to be evacuated. The Corps Commander [Almond] insisted that his order be obeyed. Nothing that Ruffner said changed Freeman’s refusal to leave his regiment. Ruffner turned the matter over to me. I had a long talk with Freeman by radio. Paul said he was being relieved from command while his regiment was in combat, and that was the worst disgrace an officer could suffer; he said he was not going to come out. I finally convinced him that no one questioned his performance and that he would undoubtedly be decorated and promoted. He finally agreed to be evacuated.[endnoteRef:102] [102: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 699-700.]

Ten hours after Freeman was wounded, Colonel Chiles flew into the 23d’s perimeter while Chinese mortar fire bracketed the airstrip. Freeman was not there to meet his replacement and with mortar fire getting closer to his aircraft, the pilot did not wait for the wounded regimental commander and took off. When Freeman met Chiles, he told him to “find a shelter and stay out of my way until my departure.”[endnoteRef:103] Freeman continued to command his regiment through numerous and intense CCF attacks for the next thirty-six hours with Chiles ‘officially’ taking command at midday on 15 February, the third day of the fighting for Chipyong-ni. When he actually took command, the new regimental commander relied on the wise counsel of the 23d’s executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Meszar, who understood the culture and climate of the 23d, and just as important, the battalion and company command teams and how they operated.[endnoteRef:104] [103: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 566.] [104: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 566.
]

By dawn of 15 February, the 23d RCT was in desperate straits, with the CCF attacking all points of the perimeter simultaneously. What saved Freeman’s regiment that day was close air support. Up until that day, the 23d RCT received few close air support sorties because the majority were diverted to support the intense fighting at Wonju. Now, more than 130 Far East Air Force (FEAF), Marine and Navy fighters and fighter-bombers, massed over Chipyong-ni with devastating effects. The aerial assault forced the CCF to break off their attacks, allowing a second airlift of thirty C-119s to parachute more ammunition into the perimeter.[endnoteRef:105] Freeman later stated that the close air support and aerial resupply gave his men “the means―and heart―to fight with renewed vigor.”[endnoteRef:106] [105: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 704-705.] [106: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 705.]

Believing that Task Force Crombez would break through in a matter of hours, Freeman consented to evacuation shortly after 1100, 15 February, and flew to a MASH unit at Chungju where General Ridgway met him. There, Ridgway consoled Freeman on leaving the 23d, but congratulated him on his exceptional performance at Chipyong-ni and awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross.[endnoteRef:107] [107: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 699-700.]

In what proved later a very controversial action, Colonel Marcel Crombez, the commander of 5th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division, received a warning order by the IX Corps commander, MG Bryant Moore, on the morning of 14 February to form a task force and prepare to advance to Chipyong-ni and relieve the 23d RCT. That evening he received the order from his division commander, MG Charles Palmer, to initiate the relief operation. Crombez was known for his “rigid, tempestuous style of command”[endnoteRef:108] and according to several senior leaders within the 1st Cavalry Division, and some of his own Soldiers, he “sought glory too intensely, wanted a star too badly, and did not seem adequately committed to them.”[endnoteRef:109] [108: Allan R. Millett, The War for Korea, 1950-1951: They Came from the North, ((Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2010), 285.] [109: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 568.]

Task Force Crombez consisted of twenty-three Patton tanks, three infantry battalions, two field artillery battalions and a combat engineer company. During the night, the task force made it to Yoju, ten miles south of Freeman’s surrounded unit. The relief force had to stop twice while the engineers repaired two blown bridges, one across the Han River and the other less than eight miles from Chipyong-ni.[endnoteRef:110] [110: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 291.]

Crombez made the fateful decision to conduct an armored assault, reducing the size of his force to just the twenty-three tanks and several squads of engineers. He directed 160 men of Company L, 5th Cavalry, to ride on the top of the tanks with orders to dismount and protect the tanks during any halt, remounting when the advance continued. The order not only violated Army doctrine, but appalled both the infantry battalion and company commanders who protested the order. The casualties, they argued, would be horrific as they would be exposed to Chinese fire from both sides of the attack route as well as the high ground. If the main gun was traversed it would sweep the infantrymen from the top of the tank and they would be left behind. Several platoon leaders refused to order their men to climb on the tanks, but Crombez ignored their protests. The infantry battalion commander heatedly argued with Crombez and then stated that if he had to order his men to ride on the tanks than he would ride on an exposed turret too.[endnoteRef:111] [111: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 571.]

Task Force Crombez charged through several CCF roadblocks and ambushes. In the process there were more than one hundred infantrymen killed or wounded, with most of the wounded left behind risking capture by the Chinese, including the infantry battalion commander. With guns blazing in all directions, the armored task force arrived at the Chipyong-ni perimeter at 1645, just in time to support 2-23 Infantry’s counterattack against another Chinese breech in the perimeter. The American defenders paused to cheer the arrival of the relief force and the CCF retreated from the battlefield. Several surviving infantry officers of the task force attempted to have Colonel Crombez court-martialed for his lack of judgment and poor decision making, but their efforts were in vain as the chain of command believed he accomplished his mission and saved the 23d RCT.[endnoteRef:112] [112: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 567-575. See also Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 295-300.]

The Battle for Chipyong-ni ended. The 23d RCT and its attached French battalion, sustained 404 casualties, but CCF casualties were more than 4,946 with 2,000 dead in and around the perimeter.[endnoteRef:113] Another 876 Chinese Soldiers were killed by Task Force Crombez enroute to Chipyong-ni.[endnoteRef:114] The 23d RCT remained at Chipyong-ni for an additional two days before relief by the 1st Cavalry Division. Their role in the fighting over for now, but twenty air miles to the southeast Wonju was under attack and surrounded by CCF and NKPA units. [113: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 299-300. See also Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 107. See also Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 287.] [114: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 284.]

At the conclusion of the battle of Chipyong-ni, Ridgway knew that the Eighth Army “had reached a turning point that it had substantially regained the confidence lost during the distressing withdrawals of December and early January.”[endnoteRef:115] He firmly believed that the stalwart defense by the 23d RCT at Chipyong-ni, inflicting severe losses on four CCF divisions from three different Chinese armies, symbolized the transformation of his Army towards achieving his endstate. The valiant efforts of Task Force Crombez to relieve the 23d RCT, demonstrated the offensive spirit he tried to instill in every Soldier under his command. These two events convinced him that the Eighth Army was ready to continue offensive operations until the CCF had to withdraw from South Korea.[endnoteRef:116] Royal Air Force Air Vice-Marshal C. A. Bouchier, attached to MacArthur’s staff in Tokyo, after visiting the British and Commonwealth brigades in Korea, supported Ridgway’s assessment when he wrote “The myth of the magical millions of Chinese in Korea was exploded. In the last United Nations offensive, the Americans learned how easily it is to kill the Chinese, and their morale greatly increased thereby.”[endnoteRef:117] [115: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 300.] [116: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 300.] [117: Max Hastings, The Korean War, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987), 196.]

THE THIRD BATTLE OF WONJU

Just prior to the fighting at Chipyong-ni, MG Almond directed the remainder of his X Corps units to withdraw back to Wonju under intense pressure from the CCF. A total of eleven infantry battalions established defensive positions in and around the town. Seven of the battalions were from the 3d and 7th Infantry Divisions and the 173d Airborne RCT, plus three from the ROK 3d Division and the attached Dutch Battalion; in total about 8,000 men. Supporting the infantry were five field artillery battalions consisting of 130 howitzers, of which thirty were 155 mm. The 2d Division’s 72d Tank Battalion, in reserve at Wonju, added more than fifty 76 mm guns. [endnoteRef:118] [118: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 553.
See also Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 693.]

Almond put BG George Stewart, the 2d Infantry Division ADC, in command of all forces at Wonju, to include the artillery, led by the division artillery commander, BG Loyal Haines. Almond’s order’s, which violated Ridgway’s guidance, was to hold their positions at all costs. Though he placed Stewart in command, Almond, always directive in nature and rarely using the proper chain of command, told Stewart where to position his units; which unit to place in reserve; and where to locate the artillery to inflict the most punishment on the advancing CCF.[endnoteRef:119] [119: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 694.]

As an infantryman, Stewart spent most of World War II as the chief of transportation for Allied forces in Africa, then Italy and finally in the South Pacific. He performed exceptionally well at every task assigned and was considered too vital to serve within the infantry branch. Therefore, he never got a chance to command a battalion or regiment in combat. In 1950, Stewart was still doing logistics duties, this time on the Eighth Army staff. He did a superb job planning and leading the logistics operations of the Inchon landings. He became the assistant division commander of the 2d Infantry Division almost by accident. With the ADC in the hospital, Stewart accidentally ran into MG McClure, who just took command of the division, and asked him to fill the position. McClure agreed on a temporary basis, but fortunately for Stewart it became permanent. When Almond relieved McClure for poor performance in mid-January, Stewart was guilty by association in Almond’s eyes. Aside from Almond, within X Corps, Stewart had a stellar reputation as an organizational leader and was considered the most competent and professional senior leader within the 2d Infantry Division.[endnoteRef:120] [120: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 553.]

Stewart was not an artilleryman, but he served a tour at the Field Artillery School and developed a great appreciation on the use and effects of both the 105 mm and 155 mm howitzers. He met with BG Haines and directed him to formulate the data necessary to enable the artillery units to fire promptly at specific areas around Wonju when called up. From this, he produced and issued overlays to all units which identified specific target areas with call-signs for target areas and numbers to speed up the call for fire process.[endnoteRef:121] [121: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 553-556.]

The CCF began their attacks against Wonju in full daylight while still in march formation on 14 February. As they crossed the Som River valley northwest of Wonju, the CCF presented the most lucrative targets any of the experienced American forward observers and fire support officers ever encountered, to include those who fought in the European theater in World War II. In massed formations as large as regimental size, the CCF literally ran into “the most concentrated, well directed artillery barrage of the war to date.”[endnoteRef:122] The slaughter continued for more than six hours and still the Chinese attempted to break-through the defensive positions of the X Corps units. The artillery batteries fired so fast their barrels began to overheat. Brigadier General Haynes complained to his ADC about the high rate of fire. Stewart ordered the artillery battalions to keep firing until they ran out of ammunition and or the gun barrels melted. Before either of these options took place, at around 1200, the CCF halted their attacks with the survivors retreating pell-mell northwards, pursued by close air support which picked up where the artillery had left off.[endnoteRef:123] The firing stopped with more than 5,000 Chinese Soldiers killed and an estimated 15,000 wounded. Four CCF divisions were destroyed. Unfortunately, Stewart and the artillerymen who produced what proved to be a decisive victory, in what became known as the “Wonju Shoot,” never received the credit they deserved.[endnoteRef:124] [122: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 694-695.] [123: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 695.] [124: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 695-696.]

When Almond ordered Stewart and the commander of the 187th RCT to his X Corps command post shortly after the artillery shoot ended, he awarded the regimental commander a Silver Star for his role in the defense of Wonju. Stewart did not receive an award for his critical role in the fight. Instead, rather derisively, Almond ordered Stewart to return to his division headquarters.[endnoteRef:125] [125: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 552.]

In a meeting with MG Almond at his command post on the same day as the “Wonju Shoot” Ridgway, furious with his corps commander, demanded an explanation for the 11,800 casualties X Corps sustained over a forty-eight hour period (11-13 February), as well as the loss of 34 artillery pieces.[endnoteRef:126] One witness stated “it was the worst ass-chewing he had ever heard.”[endnoteRef:127] Ridgway left the command post stating “This will never happen again.” Though many believed the casualties directly linked to Almond’s poorly planned attack which violated Ridgway’s ‘halt’ order, the official investigation Ridgway initiated blamed the high casualty rate and the loss of artillery on the destruction of the 3d and 5th ROK Divisions and subsequently 1,900 American casualties in the 2d and 7th Infantry Divisions, on the ROK commanders. Though the official report later absolved Almond of any wrong-doing, Ridgway continued to blame Almond. He recorded that the second phase of Operation Roundup was an example “of how Almond was apt to undertake a very risky operation that might jeopardize his command.”[endnoteRef:128] Ridgway clearly understood that with his plan of attack, Almond failed to demonstrate his ability as the commander to understand the operational environment he was operating in. Ridgway concluded that this was the major reason for the heavy casualty rate within the two ROK and two American divisions.[endnoteRef:129] [126: The casualty breakdown consisted of 9,800 ROKs, 1,900 Americans, and 100 Dutch.] [127: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 552.] [128: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 695-696.] [129: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 279-280.]

Leaders within X Corps were surprised that Ridgway did not relieve Almond the day of the ‘Wonju Shoot.’ Ridgway knew (just as all of Almond’s subordinate commanders did) that this was the second time in two months that X Corps suffered massive casualties due to the poor judgment and decision making of General Almond. Some concluded that it was Almond’s personal relationship with General MacArthur that made him ‘unrelievable.’ Others argued that the less than stellar performance of the other corps commanders, forced Ridgway to keep his one ‘overly aggressive’ corps commander in command.[endnoteRef:130] [130: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 552.]

Ridgway was very concerned about the high equipment losses within X Corps and the ROK Corps, and suspected the root cause was weak or faulty leadership. He notified Almond in writing that “While there is nothing sacrosanct about a piece of artillery, compared to the loss of the lives of men, I don’t expect to hear again of such loss as reported to me this morning of five 155 Howitzers of Battery A, 503d. It is prima facie indication of faulty leadership of serious import in some echelon.”[endnoteRef:131] After instructing his inspector general to conduct an investigation on the circumstances which led to the loss of artillery and other major equipment during the battle of Hoengsong, Ridgway notified his corps and subordinate commanders that “the loss or abandonment to enemy of arms and equipment in usable condition is a grave offense against every member of this command. I shall hereafter deal severely with commanders found responsible and shall expect you to do the same.”[endnoteRef:132] [131: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 279.] [132: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 281.]

The accountability of major weapon systems was just one of many issues that Ridgway focused on while stressing to his commanders the necessity to keep the CCF off balance with well-planned offensive operations. Knowing that his Army consisted of units from sixteen different nations, Ridgway understood that he had to unify his command under a common purpose. He believed that purpose was also a shared belief: to prevent communist nation’s use of force from destroying democratic states and replacing their democratically elected government with a communist system. Furthermore, the multinational units within Eighth Army shared similar military cultures, with many of these countries having fought side by side as members of several alliances during World War II. [endnoteRef:133] [133: The sixteen nations were: United States, Republic of Korea, United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Netherlands, France, Greece, Turkey, Belgium, Luxemburg, Thailand, Columbia, the Philippines, and Ethiopia.]

To strengthen the bonds between the countries and units that formed his Army, Ridgway dedicated both time and effort to developing positive relationships with each organization. He routinely met and visited the commanders and their men of the U.N. units. He assigned some of his best field grade leaders to serve as liaison officers to each allied unit and stressed that they keep him informed of any issues that arose or problems that required his attention. Just prior to launching Operation Wolfhound, several of these same liaison officers informed Ridgway that the U.N. units were complaining about the rations they received through American supply channels. For example, The French and Dutch Soldiers did not like American white bread, the Dutch wanted milk, and the French wanted wine with their rations. The Filipinos wanted Philippine rice, the Thais wanted Siamese rice, and the Turks wanted sweet potatoes, lima beans, and corn; but were issued spinach instead. The Greeks wanted olive oil from their homeland instead of the olive oil produced in the United States.[endnoteRef:134] To better improve relationships and trust with his multinational units, Ridgway directed his Eighth Army G-4 to work with each nation’s supply system and MacArthur’s G-4 to solve the problem. Within a few short weeks, the logisticians ensured that the dietary needs of each member nation within Eighth Army were met. When Ridgway next visited the French, Greek and Turkish contingents, he saw that the problem was solved. As a result, morale in each of these units greatly improved. He directed that every unit, both American and U.N., have fresh meat seven days out of ten and receive two hot meals a day.[endnoteRef:135] [134: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 221.] [135: Author unknown, “The Airborne Grenadier,” Time, 5 March 1951, 26-29. ]

A lesson Ridgway learned from the Eighth Army’s withdrawal during the Chinese Third Offensive in early January, was to ensure that American commanders use their attached allied units to the best of their capabilities. The British and Dutch forces were renowned for putting up resolute defense so that strength is capitalized upon, but not at the cost of directing them to engage in rear-guard operations where they might be cut-off and destroyed. The Turks and the Greeks prided themselves on hand-to-hand combat, so use it in the offense instead of defense. Furthermore, Ridgway directed that every commander ensure his Soldiers received the proper cold-weather clothing, at least two hot meals a day, small potbelly stoves and warming tents, as well as writing paper to keep their families informed of their situation.[endnoteRef:136] Ridgway directed his G-1 to work with the Eighth Army liaison officers assigned to the U.N. units and ensure that the non-U.S. units received equal coverage and publicity from the journalists and media teams. Lastly, he directed that he personally present awards for valor, regardless of nationality, during and after each operation. [136: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 716.]

OPERATION KILLER

By the evening of 18 February, Ridgway’s staff confirmed the CCF’s withdraw. Ridgway called for an urgent meeting with his Eighth Army staff, as well as his liaison officers serving as his “his eyes and ears” to the U.S. and U.N. units that made up the Eighth Army. Ridgway surprised his staff when he announced his next offensive operation: Operation Killer and directed the launch within the next sixty hours.

OPERATION KILLER: 20 February-6 March 1951

Courtesy: Center of Military History, U.S. Army

The recently rested 25,000-man 1st Marine Division, commanded by MG O. P. Smith and assigned to MG Bryant Moore’s IX Corps, served as the main effort, while Almond’s X Corps units served as the supporting effort. The purpose for Operation Killer was restoring Eighth Army’s line east from Yangpyong to Hoengsong. More importantly, the infliction of maximum damage on the enemy with minimum to ourselves, the maintaining of all major units intact, and a careful avoidance of being sucked into an enemy trap by ruse or a result of our own aggressiveness. We were to pursue only to the point where we could provide powerful support or at least manage a timely disengagement and local withdrawal.[endnoteRef:137] [137: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 106.]

Ridgway learned many lessons about the Chinese way of war at Chipyong-ni and Wonju. It was now clear to him what the strengths of the CCF were, but more importantly, what their weaknesses were.[endnoteRef:138] Ridgway laid out his course of action to his staff. The Marines would attack northeast from Wonju with the remaining IX Corps units―BG Coad’s Commonwealth Brigade, MG Palmer’s 1st Cavalry Division, and MG Bryan’s 24th Infantry Division, attacking line abreast north from Yonju and Chipyong-ni. To the east of the 1st Marine Division, X Corps reorganized ROK 3d and 5th Divisions along with MG Ruffner’s 2d Infantry Division and MG Ferenbaugh’s 7th Division, would attack line abreast, north toward Pangnim. The 187th Airborne RCT served as the Eighth Army reserve and prepared for a possible airborne operation in support of Operation Killer. In the west, MG Milburn’s I Corps, consisting of the ROK 1st, U.S. 3d and 25th Infantry Divisions, held on Line Boston at the Han River. The corps conducted a feint by having several battalions cross the Han River. This set the stage for the actual river crossing that Ridgway planned in a subsequent operation after Killer.[endnoteRef:139] In sum, Ridgway’s plan called for eight infantry divisions (five American and three ROK) from IX and X Corps, totaling more than 100,000 men. The eight divisions were supported by twenty-two artillery battalions (nearly 400 howitzers), five tank battalions, the entire FEAF and for the first time, the 1st Marine Air Wing.[endnoteRef:140] [138: David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War, (New York: Hyperion, 2007), 583. See also Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 108-111. ] [139: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 716.] [140: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 716.]

The staff recognized that this was the most complex operation they planned and executed so far in the war. Subsequently, the plan generated a lengthy debate over its merits. The staff identified three major issues. The first and second involved logistics and sustainment. After the fighting at Wonju there was an unseasonable warming spell which brought torrents of rain instead of snow, making trafficability across the front extremely difficult. The melting snow from the mountains and hills caused the Han River to exceed its banks. The flooding washed away the pontoon bridges at several sites over the Han. The primitive road system in all three regions where the Eighth Army operated was buried in a foot or more of mud, forcing Ridgway’s engineers to rebuild the drainage system or in many places build new roads. Another issue was a shortage of ammunition, especially artillery. The recent intense fighting at Chipyong-ni and Wonju depleted the Eighth Army Class V reserves in both Korea and Japan. The third issue was the growing threat of the CCF Air Force. So far it had not conducted any major attacks on U.N. ground forces but the Eighth Army staff knew that to stage and prepare an offensive operation on the scale that Ridgway proposed would require the massing of troops and vehicles which might convince the Chinese leadership that the targets presented were too lucrative to not risk the opportunity of inflicting a major blow against the U.N. forces before their offensive began.[endnoteRef:141] [141: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 717.]

In the end, the staff supported Ridgway’s plan because one factor trumped all of the issues identified―the requirement to maintain the “offensive spirit” of the Army. The Army regained its confidence and the initiative. To pause now would put both in jeopardy and allow the CCF to escape, affording them the opportunity to replace both their enormous personnel and material losses.

On 19 February, Ridgway met with his corps and division commanders and their operations officers and outlined his plan. The next day he flew to Wonju to meet with and brief the Operation Killer plan to General MacArthur at MG Almond’s X Corps command post. After approving Ridgway’s plan without making any changes, MacArthur strode from the CP and conducted a press conference proclaiming, “I have just ordered a resumption of the offensive.”[endnoteRef:142] Ridgway later wrote that this statement took him totally by surprise, and even worse, dismayed him. MacArthur and his staff had no part in the conception or planning for Operation Killer, and therefore neither MacArthur nor his staff could have issued any orders concerning future offensive operations in Korea. More concerning was the fact that MacArthur just told the world, to include the CCF and NKPA, that the Eighth Army was launching another offensive operation very soon. In fact, as MacArthur knew, Operation Killer was to commence the next day.[endnoteRef:143] Worse still, MacArthur, for the second time in eight days, publicly criticized the Truman administration and its decision not to attack Chinese air and logistics bases in Manchuria. MacArthur raised the issue about whether or not he had the authority to order the Eighth Army to cross the 38th Parallel in future operations. It was a direct violation of President Truman’s December directive to clear such statements in advance before speaking to the media.[endnoteRef:144] [142: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 109.] [143: Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 108-109.] [144: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 719-720.]

EIGHTH ARMY LAUNCHES OPERATION KILLER

Operation Killer began on 21 February, and plagued from the start by poor weather conditions that made trafficability, both by vehicle and foot, nearly impossible. Rivers became even bigger obstacles due to flooding, delaying The Second and Seventh Infantry Divisions for more than two days while attempting to cross the Chechon River. The 1st Marine Division met little opposition until it reached the outskirts of Hoengsong and it became apparent that the CCF planned to fight to retain what was little more than a town of ruins. Both the 1st Cavalry Division, commanded by MG Palmer, and the 24th Infantry Division, commanded by MG Bryan, were bogged down amidst the rain and mud as well. One of the few standing bridges across the Han River was at Yoju. When it washed away, it took more than four days to replace it with a pontoon bridge due to the severe weather.

On the third day of the belabored attack, the IX Corps commander, MG Bryant Moore, toured the frontlines by air. When his pilot attempted to land at the airfield at Yoju, the helicopter hit a cable crossing the Han River and crashed in shallow water. Moore and his pilot were pulled from the wreckage and rushed to the 24th Infantry Division’s artillery CP. There they received dry uniforms and hot coffee. A few minutes later while sitting in a chair Moore suffered a heart attack and died.[endnoteRef:145] Moore commanded IX Corps for only 24 days. [145: J. Lawton Collins, War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969), 262. See also Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 308-309.]

When Ridgway received the shocking news he contacted MacArthur, who approved his recommendation that MG Joseph M. Swing, serving as the commandant of the Army War College, come to Korea as Moore’s replacement. MacArthur forwarded the request to the Army chief of staff, General Collins. In the interim, Ridgway selected MG Oliver P. Smith, commander of the 1st Marine Division, to take command of IX Corps. It was only the third time in the Army’s military history that a Marine officer was in command of a major Army unit.[endnoteRef:146] Ridgway counseled both the IX Corps staff and the division commanders within the corps, to fully cooperate with Smith.[endnoteRef:147] Ridgway firmly believed that the interim command arrangement “offered an excellent opportunity to bring the Army and Marine Corps closer together.”[endnoteRef:148] [146: The first was Major General John A. Lejeune who commanded the 2d Infantry Division in the First World War. The second was Major General Roy S. Geiger who commanded the Tenth Army during the last week of the battle for Okinawa in World War Two.] [147: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 308-309.] [148: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 308-309.]

General Collins turned down MacArthur and Ridgway’s request for MG Swing. When notified of the decision, Ridgway requested MG William M. Hoge, then commanding U.S. Forces in Italy, replace Moore. Hoge earned a stellar reputation as a combat commander in World War II, commanding the 9th Armored Division as a brigadier general during the Battle of the Bulge and later during the division’s capture of the Ludendorff Bridge across the Rhine River at Remagen. At the war’s end, Hoge was a major general and commanding the 4th Armored Division in Patton’s Third Army. During the Normandy campaign, Hoge displayed the traits and characteristics that Ridgway demanded in his subordinate commanders, intelligence, coolness under fire, tenacity, and aggressiveness. From Ridgway’s perspective “Hoge was a man in whom I had absolute implicit confidence. In his personal courage, in his professional competence, and in his stability of character.”[endnoteRef:149] [149: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 727-728.]

Operation Killer labored on for the remainder of February through the first week of March until both the IX and X Corps’ reached Line Arizona. In the fourteen-day operation, the CCF suffered some significant losses, with IX Corps alone reporting that it inflicted more than 10,000 killed, wounded, and captured on the Chinese forces it engaged.[endnoteRef:150] To Ridgway and his senior leaders, Operation Killer only partially accomplished its primary objective of destroying all enemy forces below Line Arizona. The disinclination of the CCF to stand and fight, other than the occasionally delaying action such as at Hoengsong and the inclimate weather and its effects on the terrain, prevented the Eighth Army from achieving the operation’s primary objective. [150: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 310.]

The better news for Ridgway was the Army chief of staff approved his request for MG Hoge to take command of IX Corps. Hoge arrived in Korea on 5 March and took command of IX Corps that same day. Hoge was a great admirer of Ridgway, but more importantly, would prove an exceptional follower who would argue with his boss when he believed the orders given were impractical or he developed a better, more effective alternative course of action or solution to a problem. Within four weeks of taking command, Ridgway recommended Hoge for promotion, praising him as an “aggressive, determined and experienced officer who fulfilled his responsibilities in a superior manner.”[endnoteRef:151] [151: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 178.]

OPERATION RIPPER

As Operation Killer wound down, Ridgway directed his staff to prepare for a subsequent operation with the main effort again in the center sector. One major difference was all major units in Eighth Army would participate in what Ridgway called Operation Ripper. Ripper had two major objectives. The first was to destroy CCF units as well as their logistics capabilities, preventing the enemy from conducting a counteroffensive. Secondarily, the Eighth Army would outflank Seoul from the east and secure Line Idaho, but avoid a direct assault into the city. Ridgway was convinced that if his Army could achieve these two objectives, the CCF would be forced to withdraw from the entire area.[endnoteRef:152] [152: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 311.]

The launch date for the operation was not set to enable the logistician’s ability to build up five days’ worth of supplies and pre-positioned them as far forward as feasible. On the recommendation of his staff, Ridgway prepared to cancel the operation if they determined that the CCF were about to attack.[endnoteRef:153] When his staff confirmed continuing enemy withdrawal across the peninsula and the logistics buildup progressing faster than anticipated, Ridgway moved the start of Ripper forward from 10 March to 6 March. Only after all three of his corps artillery commanders informed him on 5 March the buildup of artillery ammunition did not meet their requirements of firing sixty-five rounds per howitzer per day, did he authorize a twenty-four-hour delay to allow the logisticians additional time to transport the additional artillery ammunition from the port of Inchon to the artillery battalions in their forward positions.[endnoteRef:154] [153: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 311.] [154: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 301-302.]

Operation Ripper began at 0545 on 7 March with a massive artillery barrage initiated by MG Sladen Bradley’s 25th Infantry Division artillery and its reinforcing artillery battalions. Bradley assumed command of the division just two weeks previously. He spent World War II as the chief of staff and as a regimental commander in the Thirty-second Infantry Division in the Southwest Pacific and deployed to Korea as the 2d Infantry Division’s assistant division commander. When Ridgway relieved MG William Kean on 25 February, he transferred Bradley to take command of the 25th Division. Ridgway recognized that Kean was probably the best of the original six Army division commanders serving in Korea, but after nearly five months of intense combat he believed he should replace Kean and that Bradley earned the chance to command a division. Bradley fit the mold of the division commander Ridgway wanted-he was hardworking, aggressive and courageous. Just as important, he always seemed to be at the scene where the hottest combat was taking place and where the hard decisions had to be made.[endnoteRef:155] [155: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 162.]

In the first twenty minutes 148 artillery pieces under the command of Brigadier General Bittman Barth, the 25th ID’s Division artillery commander, fired 5,000 rounds at known and suspected CCF positions on the north bank of the Han River as two regiments from the 25th Division, the 27th and 35th Infantry Regiments, began to cross the 700-foot-wide Han River with the intent of heading east of Seoul. The 1st ROK Division followed and headed to the west side of Seoul as part of Ridgway’s plan for envelopment. Ridgway observed the assault crossing with MG Bradley and his new ADC, the recently promoted Brigadier General Mike Michalis, from the 25th Division’s forward command post near the river. At 0615 the artillery shifted fires forward of the bridgehead.

OPERATION RIPPER: 6-31 March 1951

Courtesy: United States Military Academy, West Point Military History, U.S. Army

Achieving complete surprise, the six battalions made the crossing with very light casualties. Seizing the high ground on the far side of the Han, the lead elements of the 25th Division captured 317 Chinese Soldiers, the largest capture of enemy Soldiers at one time in the war so far. During their interrogation, the Chinese Soldiers stated that they did not expect the Americans to cross the Han and were overwhelmed by the intense 30-minute artillery barrage. More importantly, BG Barth, who observed the interrogation, informed his division and corps commander that the prisoners were “thoroughly beaten and demoralized.”[endnoteRef:156] This information quickly spread throughout the 25th ID and the Eighth Army, raising morale amongst the U.N. units even higher than it already was. [156: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 740-741.]

With six corps’ on line, made up of eleven divisions, which numbered more than 150,000 men, the Eighth Army attacked across a fifty-mile front. Well supported by corps and division artillery, the eleven divisions advanced ‘almost shoulder to shoulder’ allowing no enemy units to be bypassed. By 10 March Seoul was outflanked. Four days later, the 1st Marine Division captured Hongchon as all along the Eighth Army front, the CCF and NKPA withdrew. On 15 March, the ROK 1st Division sent a patrol into Seoul and found it deserted, which enabled ROK forces to occupy the devastated city. For the fourth and final time in the war the city changed hands.

Ridgway was pleased when he heard the news that the ROKs retook their capitol city, but more importantly, the accomplishments of his Army during Operation Ripper. He specifically credited both the I and IX Corps commanders, MG Milburn and MG Hoge, as well as two division commanders, the 25th ID’s MG Bradley and the 1st Marine Division’s MG Smith for their resolute leadership during the conduct of a very complex operation. He would later write “I consider the surprise crossing of the Han River by I Corps . . . in the face of numerically superior stronger Chinese Communist forces during Operation Ripper, was the most successful single action fought by troops under my command during either World War II in Europe or in Korea.”[endnoteRef:157] [157: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 751.]

In his final assessment of the two offensive operations (Killer-Ripper), Ridgway concluded that the Eighth Army advanced seventy air miles and cleared all of South Korea of CCF and NKPA forces. That said, he judged the three operations merely a “qualified success” since in his estimation they had not killed or captured enough Chinese and North Koreans and too many units escaped northwards out of the reach of his army.[endnoteRef:158] [158: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 775.]

OPERATION RUGGED AND DAUNTLESS

By 26 March it was obvious that the CCF and NKPA had no intention of engaging in battle with the advancing Eighth Army. By the end of the month Ridgway, having achieved an almost complete situational understanding of the operational environment, amended his initial directives and instructed his three corps to halt at Lines Benton and Cairo just below the 38th parallel. In the last three weeks, the Eighth Army captured a substantial amount of terrain from the CCF, advancing nearly thirty miles northward and recaptured the South Korean capital. Enemy casualties estimated in the tens of thousands, with nearly 5,000 Chinese and North Korean Soldiers captured. That said, Ridgway realized that the Eighth Army’s ability to interdict the enemy’s ability to resupply its forces was far less than anticipated.[endnoteRef:159] [159: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 334. See also Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 775.]

Ridgway halted his forces south of the 38th Parallel awaiting approval from Washington. General MacArthur pressed the Army chief of staff and the president for permission to attack across the 38th parallel. Truman however, wanted to use Ridgway’s success to convince the Chinese and North Koreans they could not win a military victory. He planned to make a public statement to Chinese that the United Nations was willing to negotiate to end the fighting. MacArthur expressed his distaste for this course of action and in a letter to Republican Congressman Joseph W. Martin, stated that “the conventional pattern of meeting force with maximum counter-force” was the best approach and that there was “no substitute for victory.”[endnoteRef:160] [160: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 345.]

When President Truman decided not to make a public announcement offering the Chinese the opportunity to negotiate, Ridgway expected to receive orders from the Pentagon and MacArthur to continue his offensive operations northwards. Gathering his corps and division commanders at his advance headquarters at Yoju on 27 March, Ridgway outlined his plan for the advance across the 38th parallel, and to get their perspectives on the operation. His intent was to launch the main effort toward the rail and road complex centered between Pyongyang in the north and Chorwon and Kumhwa in the south, an area designated by journalists as the ‘Iron Triangle.’ This area was twenty to thirty miles north of the parallel. Of critical importance were the roads and railheads between the port of Wonsan in the northeast and Seoul in the southwest.

Ridgway further planned to occupy terrain that enabled future onward movement, but would also allow for good defensive lines against an expected Chinese offensive as the weather improved. These positions were identified as the Kansas Line and followed the southern bank of the Imjin River from west to east to the Hwachon Reservoir to the Yangyang area on the east coast of Korea. The I and IX Corps seized terrain along the bank of the Imjin and the western edge of the reservoir while X Corps occupied the reservoir shoreline eastwards to Route 24 in the Soyang River valley and tied-in with the ROK III and I Corps who secured the area between Route 24 and Yangyang on the coast.[endnoteRef:161] Operation Dauntless was a follow-on limited attack towards the Iron Triangle by both I and IX Corps to seize the high ground around it. If the CCF counter-attacked, the two corps would fall back to phase line Kansas. [161: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 349.]

Operation Rugged was scheduled to launch on 5 April, but fearing the CCF buildup in North Korea which his intelligence informed him had reached 274,000 Chinese (approximately twenty-seven 10,000 man divisions) and another 198,000 NKPA, Ridgway ordered the start date to move forward by forty-eight hours.[endnoteRef:162] MG Hoge’s IX Corps, with the newly attached Commonwealth Brigade and MG Milburn’s IX Corps, with the attached Turkish brigade, advanced to contact with their objective the high ground along phase line Kansas. Prior to the operation, Generals Hoge and Milburn and their staffs, met with the Australian and Turkish commanders and their staffs to establish initial working relationships and clarify any issues with the forthcoming operation. The benefits of these coordination efforts contributed to the success that both I and IX Corps units achieved in reaching phase line Kansas by 9 April. MG Almond’s X Corps and the ROK III Corps did not arrive at Kansas until 20 April due to the mountainous terrain and greater enemy resistance. Strangely enough, with Ridgway’s approval, MG Almond chose the week of 2-9 April to take leave and visit his family in Tokyo. MG ‘Nick’ Ruffner, commander of 2d Infantry Division, took command of X Corps and his ADC, BG George Stewart took command of the division. [162: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 776.]

During Operation Dauntless, the 29th British and 27th Commonwealth Brigades, along with the French, Dutch, Greek, and Turkish battalions, were involved in some of the heaviest fighting in the month of April as they completed the twenty mile advance to lines Utah and Wyoming.[endnoteRef:163] Once situated on the high ground, all Eighth Army units were to halt and prepare defensive positions for the soon launched CCF offensive.[endnoteRef:164] On 22 April, the CCF launched their 5th Phase Spring Offensive with the main effort aimed at recapturing Seoul as a May Day present to Mao Zedong.[endnoteRef:165] [163: The most famous of these battles involved the 29th British Brigade’s fight on the Imjin River from 22-25 April in which the 1st Battalion, the Gloucestershire Regiment (Glosters), earned lasting recognition for their ‘last stand’ defense on Hill 235 which became known as ‘Gloster Hill.’ See Brian Drohan, Imjin River 1951: Last Stand of the “Glorious Glosters.’ (Oxford: Osprey Publishing Ltd., 2018).] [164: Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953, (New York: Times Books, 1987), 775.] [165: Billy C. Mossman, Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951, (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990), 379.]

The Eighth Army G-2 notified Ridgway on 6 April that the CCF had moved the XIX Army Group, with three new armies into North Korea and that several more armies were staging along the Manchurian border. Less than a week later on 11 April, while Ridgway conducted a tour of his units along Line Kansas with Secretary of the Army Frank Pace, Jr., he was notified that General MacArthur was relieved of command by President Truman and that he was to replace MacArthur immediately as the commander-in-chief, U.S. Far East Command and commander-in-chief, United Nations Command.[endnoteRef:166] [166: For a detailed analysis of how and why President Truman relieved MacArthur of command, see Omar N. Bradley and Clay Blair, A General’s Life, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 627-637. See also J. Lawton Collins, War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969), 269-293; Stanley Weintraub, MacArthur’s War: Korea and the Undoing of an American Hero, (New York: The Free Press, 2000), 325-342; and Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War, (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 141-159. ]

CONCLUSION

In his fifteen weeks in command, Ridgway, through his exceptional leadership, character, and powerful presence, transformed a beaten and demoralized Army into a well led, combat hardened, and effective fighting force that in just a few weeks reclaimed the initiative and over the next three months defeated every CCF army and NKPA it faced. Though both the CCF and NKPA got pushed out of South Korea by the time he was selected to replace MacArthur, Ridgway was the first to admit that the Eighth Army had not inflicted the level of casualties on the enemy he wanted to force them to the negotiations table from a position of weakness.[endnoteRef:167] [167: Stephen R. Taafe, Macarthur’s Korean War General’s, (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016), 180-181.]

Just as important, Ridgway built a ‘team of teams’ across nearly every organization within Eighth Army to stabilize a chaotic situation and rebuild confidence in the chain-of-command. Confirming his initial assessment that the Eighth Army suffered from a lack of competent and inspiring leaders at the corps and division level, Ridgway replaced most of the tired and dejected senior commanders with energetic and aggressive offensive minded organizational leaders. Without leaders like Major Generals’ O. P. Smith, Bryant Moore, William M. Hoge, BG George Stewart, Colonel’s Mike Michaelis, and Paul Freeman the Eighth Army would never have transformed into the effective combat force it was in such a short amount of time.

Demanding excellence from his command teams, Ridgway set the conditions for the Eighth Army to develop into a proud and effective fighting force with unshakeable morale. Ridgway is one of the few operational and strategic leaders at the time who realized that killing tens of thousands of Chinese and North Korean Soldiers demonstrated the lethality of U.S. firepower and the strength of the American Soldier. By doing this, he achieved his endstate in less than four months.

The turning point of Ridgway’s efforts to rebuild the fighting spirit in the Eighth Army occurred at the battle of Chipyong-ni in mid-February 1951. When all of his subordinate commanders, from corps to battalion, wanted to withdraw the soon to be surrounded 23d RCT at Chipyong-ni, Ridgway insisted that the 23d RCT remain in place and fight. He promised his leaders that he would support them with the entire Eighth Army and air force, if need be. Under the stalwart leadership of Colonel Paul Freeman, the 23d RCT won a critical battle that convinced both allies and enemies that the Eighth Army was a much different organization than it was just four weeks previously. This battle proved to be a major turning point of the war.[endnoteRef:168] Summing up the Eighth Army’s accomplishment under Ridgway’s command, one of the U.S. Army’s Korean War historians stated: [168: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 579-580.]

Ridgway succeeded in establishing a line across the breadth of Korea, and each month that passed saw it forged more firmly. He insisted on unit contact with adjacent units and an end to gaps between units, a policy that required them to be mutually supporting. He dealt harshly with commanders who ignored this principle . . . As morale in the army increased with each small success, what became possible with Eighth Army mounted steadily, until by April 1951, it was able to face and defeat the Chinese 5th Phase Offensive. By the end of May 1951, Eighth Army had won another major battle and had counter-attacked successfully, with the enemy demoralized and suffering very heavy casualties in personnel and material.[endnoteRef:169] [169: Roy E. Appleman, Ridgway Duels for Korea, (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990), 580. ]

It is only fitting that the last word on the Eighth Army’s performance in the winter of 1951 come from the CCF commander, Marshal Peng Dehuai, who commanded all Chinese units in Korea from October 1950 through July 1953. From January to April 1951, Peng was convinced that the Chinese could win the war if they could accomplish two objectives; inflict massive casualties on the Eighth Army and destroy the American’s will to fight. They accomplished neither of those objectives. “[Ridgway] identified our logistical weaknesses, and employing air and artillery attacks in limited counteroffensives devastated the ranks of the people’s volunteers. By avoiding the grandiloquent rhetoric and strategy of MacArthur, Ridgway destroyed our offensive power and prevented us from winning the war.”[endnoteRef:170] [170: Michael Schaller, Douglas MacArthur: The Far Eastern General (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 228.

Selected Bibliography
Alberts, Robert C. “Profile of a Soldier: Matthew B. Ridgway,” American Heritage, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, February 1976.
Appleman, Roy E. Ridgway Duels for Korea. College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1990.
Barron, Leo. High Tide in the Korean War: How an Outnumbered American Regiment Defeated the Chinese at the Battle of Chipyong-ni. Mechanicsville, PA: Stackpole Books, 2015.
Blair, Clay. The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953. New York: Times Books, 1987.
Bradley, Omar N. and Clay Blair. A General’s Life. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983.
Cleaver, Thomas McKelvey. The Frozen Chosen: The 1st Marine Division and the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir. Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2016.
Coleman, J.D. Wonju: The Gettysburg of the Korean War. Washington D.C.: Brassey’s Inc., 2000.
Collins, J. Lawton. War in Peacetime: The History and Lessons of Korea. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969.
Drohan, Brian. Imjin River 1951: Last Stand of the “Glorious Glosters.’ Oxford: Osprey Publishing Ltd., 2018.
Grey, Jeffrey. The Commonwealth Armies and the Korean War. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 1988.
Halberstam, David. The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War. New York: Hyperion, 2007.
Hanson, Victor Davis. The Savior Generals: How Five Great Commanders Saved Wars That Were Lost-From Ancient Greece to Iraq. New York: Bloomsbury Press, 2013.
Haruki, Wada. The Korean War: The International History. Lanham, MA: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014.
Hastings, Max. The Korean War. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.
Hamburger, Kenneth E. Leadership in the Crucible: The Korean War Battles of Twin Tunnels and Chipyong-Ni. College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003.

James, D. Clayton and Anne Sharp Wells. Refighting the Last War: Command and Crises in Korea, 1950-1953. New York: The Free Press, 1993.
Li, Xiaobing and Allan R. Millett and Bin Yu. Mao’s Generals Remember Korea. Lawrence, KS: The University Press of Kansas, 2001.
Millett, Allan R. The War for Korea, 1950-1951: They Came from the North. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2010.
Mossman, Billy C. Ebb and Flow: November 1950-July 1951. Washington D.C: Center of Military History, United States Army, 1990.
Munroe, Clark C. The Second United States Infantry Division in Korea, 1950-1951. Tokyo: Toppan Printing Co., Ltd., ND.
Rees, David. Korea: The Limited War. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1964/

Ridgway, Matthew B. The Korean War. New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967.
________. Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1956.
Roe, Patrick C. The Dragon Strikes: China and the Korean War- June-December 1950. Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 2000.
Schaller, Michael. Douglas MacArthur: The Far Eastern General. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.
Schnabel, James F. “Ridgway In Korea,” Military Review, XLIV, No. 3 (March 1964): 11.
Spurr, Russell. Enter the Dragon: China’s Undeclared War against the U.S. in Korea, 1950-1951. New York: Newmarket Press, 1988.
Taafe, Stephen R. Macarthur’s Korean War General’s. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2016.
Truman, Harry S. Memoirs, Volume II. Doubleday, 1956.
Truman, Margaret. Harry S. Truman. William Morrow, 1973.
Weintraub, Stanley. MacArthur’s War: Korea and the Undoing of an American Hero. New York: The Free Press, 2000.

]

L400 CSE October 2021

Created by and for CGSC. Not to be further reproduced. Do not alter article without the express written permission of the author.

L400 CSE 2 October 2021

Syllabus and Book of Readings
Contains Advance Sheets and Readings

L400: Art of Command

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC)

Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
CGSC AY 2021–2022

DEPARTMENT OF COMMAND AND LEADERSHIP
US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE

FORT LEAVENWORTH, KS 66027-2301

This publication contains copyrighted material and may not be reproduced without permission.

ii

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command

AY 2021–2022

Contents

L400: Art of Command
Block Advance Sheet …………………………………………………………………………………………………………L400BAS-1

L411: Transition to Command
Advance Sheet………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….L411AS-10
L411RA: Ridgway Takes Command……………………………………………………………………………………L411RA-13
L411RB: ADP 6-0 Mission Command, Chapter 2 Excerpt……………………………………………………..L411RB-26
L411RC: ADP 5-0 The Operations Process, Chapter 5 Excerpt………………………………………………L411RC-39

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity
Advance Sheet………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….L412AS-49
L412RA: A Framework for Leadership Development……………………………………………………………..L412RA-52
L412RB: 2018 CASL Survey Results………………………………………………………………L412RB-59
L412RC: Adaptive Leadership Harold G. “Hal” Moore…………………………………………………………..L412RC-67
L412ORA Review Reading: The Learning Organization Primer…………………………………………….L412ORA-76

L421: Complexity
Advance Sheet………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..L421AS-88
L421RA: Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework………………………………………………………L421RA-91
L421RB: Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaw?……………………………………………………………….L421RB-119
L421RC: An Autocracy at War…………………………………………………………………………………………..L421RC-131
L421RD: Leadership and System Thinking………………………………………………………………………….L421RC-151

L422: Leading Multi-National Operations
Advance Sheet………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..L422AS-157
L422RA: Slim in Burma…………………………………………………………………………………………………….L422RA-160
L422RB: TO-TR-HFM 120 Chapter 1…………………………………………………………………………………L422RB-170
L422RC: TO-TR-HFM 120 Chapter 3…………………………………………………………………………………L422RC-180
L422RD: Dimensionalizing Cultures……………………………………………………………………………………L422RD-203
L422ORA: Higher Command in War………………………………………………………………………………..L422ORA-220

L431: Commanders Visualization
L431Advance Sheet…………………………………………………………………………………………………………L431AS-234
L431RA: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt……………………………………………………………………………………L431RA-238
L431RB: MG Cota and the Battle of the Hurtgen Forest………………………………………………………..L431RB-251
L431RC: Zero Defects……………………………………………………………………………………………………….L431RC-265
L431RRA: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt……………………………………………………………………………….L431RRA-275

iii

L432: Decision Making
Advance Sheet……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..L432AS-281
L432RA: Defeat from Victory………………………………………………………………………………………….L432RA-285
L432RB: What Were You Thinking?……………………………………………………………………………….L432RB-309
L432RC: ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Exerpt…………………………………………………………………………………L432RC-315
L432ORA: General MacArthur Biography………………………………………………………………………..L432ORA-317
L432ORB: Various Biographies……………………………………………………………………………………….L432ORB-323

L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War
Advance Sheet………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..L441AS-332
L441RA: The Fall of the Warrior King………………………………………………………………………………..L441RA-336
L441RB: Peers Report……………………………………………………………………………………………………….L441RB-351
L441RC: ADP 6-22 Chapter 2 Extract…………………………………………………………………………………L441RC-362
L441RD: The Darker Side of the Force……………………………………………………………………………….L441RD-364
L441RE: What Makes People do Bad Things……………………………………………………………………….L441RE-371

L442: Morally Courageous Followers
Advance Sheet…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………L442AS-375
L442RA: Moral Courage and Intelligent Disobedience………………………………………………………….L442RA-378
L442RB: Rethinking Followership……………………………………………………………………………………..L442RB-385
L442RC: Darker Shades of Blue…………………………………………………………………………………………L442RC-386
L442RD: ADP 6-22 Chapter 2 Extract…………………………………………………………………………………L441RC-407

Note on page numbering methodology: In addition to the regular numeric sequencing of all pages
throughout this book found after the dash, all pages have alpha character content identifiers preceding the
dash.

AS—Advance sheet
R—Reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson
RR—Review reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson
OR—Optional reading, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson
AP—Appendix, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson
CS—Case study, preceded by alpha sequence letter within a given lesson

****The same readings are in both the student section of Blackboard and this document. Because of this duality, most
readings in this book do not have graphics, maps, footnotes, or endnotes to make it easier to read on cellphones and
other small electronic devices. Please see the individual documents on Blackboard to see these items. Copyright for
each article is on file.

Block Advance Sheet and Readings

AY 2021–2022

L400BAS-1

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) AOC
L400: Art of Command

L400 Block Advance Sheet

Art of Command

1. SCOPE

The L400: Art of Command block, within the Advance Operations Course (AOC), examines
organizational leadership from a commander’ perspective. Effective field grade leaders understand how
commanders exercise the elements of command, view problems, make decisions, and manage risk (unifying
themes of the block) in complex environments so you, staff officer and/or subordinate commander, can
provide viable recommendations to accomplish the mission.

The Art of Command focuses on the human dimension of warfighting—the cognitive, social, cultural,
and ethical factors field grade leaders must understand to be more effective in exercising command.
Commanders face ambiguous, complex problems in dynamic, uncertain environments. These factors
challenge the commander’s ability to gain situational understanding and make sound decisions. These factors
also challenge commanders to provide purpose, direction, and motivation to subordinates, while ensuring the
organization has a healthy, ethically aligned culture. L400 analyzes these challenges and examines strategies
(approaches) commanders can use to overcome them.

Like L100: Developing Organizations and Leaders, the Art of Command lessons use historical case
studies to illustrate the challenges organizational-level commanders face. You examine commanders in large-
scale combat operations from World War II to contemporary conflicts. In all cases, leaders faced uncertainty,
complexity, physical and psychological stress, and ethical ambiguity. How leaders responded to those
situations is instructive for today’s field grade leaders and commanders.

By design, the eight lessons (16 hours) are concurrent and integrated with AOC modules 1-4. We expect
you to incorporate and apply the ideas, concepts, and theories from the leadership lessons into other AOC
classes and exercises. Additionally, the L400: Art of Command block contributes to three long-term
outcomes: improving critical thinking, improving as a lifelong learner, and learning from experience through
meaning making. You conclude L400 with a better appreciation of organizational leadership, a fuller
understanding of the commander’s perspective, and are better prepared to self-reflect on your strengths and
weaknesses as an organizational leader.

Note: The slide above illustrates the logic of the Art of Command unifying themes:

Go to Table of Contents

L400BAS-2

L411: Transition to Command (2 hours). This lesson examines the mental transition required to assume
command and how commanders exercise the art of command through the Elements of Command. This
transition requires leaders to acknowledge, understand, and manage greater expectations in exercising
authority and accepting responsibility for their organization as a commander.

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity (2 hours). This lesson examines the third pillar of leadership
development: how commanders accomplish leadership development in the operational domain. The lesson
focuses on the commander’s development of organizational leadership capacity while also addressing the
individual leader’s development. The goal of leadership capacity within the organization is to enhance
combat power through setting conditions and enabling the meaning making cycle for subordinates.

L421: Complexity (2 hours). This lesson examines the challenges of command within the complexities of
war. Commanders must determine cause and effect relationships between people, events, and outcomes in
dynamic, uncertain and rapidly changing operational environments (OE) while assessing changes in the
environment. Based upon their understanding, commanders develop problem solving approaches to address
unexpected or changing conditions of the OE to enable mission success.

L422: Leading Multinational Operations (2 hours). This lesson examines the challenges and complexities
of command within a multinational context. The most effective commanders not only understand the
dynamics within large military organizations (climate, culture, ethics, etc.) but also the social, emotional and
cultural implications when working with multinational partners in order to leverage available capabilities to
accomplish the mission.

L431: Commander’s Visualization (2 hours). This lesson examines how commanders drive the operations
process to achieve situational understanding through continuous assessment to inform their visualization of
operations in time and space so they can describe their approach and manage risk to achieve the endstate.

L432: Decision Making (2 hours). This lesson examines the dynamics of decision making within the
context of modern warfare. Commanders must understand and account for the variables (internal/external)
that may influence and affect their judgment and decision making while managing risk and enabling mission
command.
L441: Sustaining an Ethically Aligned Organization in War (2 hours). This lesson examines the
importance of why commanders must constantly assess their ethical climate and culture to ensure ethical
alignment of the organization while conducting operations and to prevent unethical conduct in war.

L442: Morally Courageous Followers (2 hours). This lesson examines the concepts of moral courage and
followership within the context of a commander establishing standards and maintaining a healthy
organizational command climate and culture that fosters and enables moral courage while holding people
accountable for their actions.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES

Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and
larger units in modern warfare.

TLO-AOC-9
Action: Incorporate effective communication skills.
Condition: Given adequate time in an academic course, a requirement to communicate using the Universal
Intellectual Standards, and access to graduate level resources.
Standard: Communication includes –
1. Write effectively

L400BAS-3

a. Substance
b. Organization
c. Style
d. Correctness

2. Speak effectively
a. Substance
b. Organization
c. Style
d. Correctness

3. Listen effectively
a. Listens, reads, and watches intently.
b. Recognizes significant content, emotion, and urgency in others.
c. Uses verbal and nonverbal means to reinforce with the speaker that you are paying attention.
d. Reflects on new information before expressing views.

Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Synthesis

TLO-AOC-10
Action: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare.
Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within
complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of
Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block
examination.
Standard: Analysis includes−
1. Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units.

a. Explain the mental transitions a commander must make when taking command.
b. Explain how a commander solves problems and improves the organization; and
c. Explain how a commander uses the elements of command.

2. Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain.
a. Explain the commander’s role in developing others.
b. Explain the role of experience in developmental learning; and
c. Explain the process of meaning making.

3. Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and
decision-making.

a. Explain the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships in modern warfare.
b. Explain sense making in complexity.
c. Explain how decision-making frameworks assist commanders.

4. Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations.
a. Explain the significance of shared values in multi-national operations.
b. Explain the significance of cross-cultural awareness and understanding in the operations process
c. Explain the role of the transformational and transcultural leader in commanding multinational
operations.

5. Explain how a commander achieves “commander’s visualization” during the conduct of major
operations.

a. Explain the relationship between situational understanding and commander’s visualization.
b. Explain the challenges of achieving situational understanding as part of the commander’s
visualization process.
c. Explain the linkage between understanding, decision-making, and risk.

6. Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making.
a. Analyze how psychological traps affect decision-making.
b. Analyze the impact of experience on decision-making; and
c. Analyze how judgment affects decision-making and risk management.

L400BAS-4

7. Analyze the commander’s role in leading ethical organizations.
a. Analyze the commander’s obligation to sustain an ethically disciplined command climate.
b. Analyze the factors that contribute to an unethical command climate.
c. Analyze the consequences of unethical behavior within an organization

8. Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization.
a. Analyze the responsibilities of effective followers.
b. Analyze how power (position and personal) affects the demonstration of moral courage.
c. Analyze how commanders create a climate for subordinates to demonstrate moral courage.

Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis
PLO Attributes Supported: 1 Strategic Thinking and Communication
a. Independently research and critically evaluate information.
b. Comprehend context of the situation
c. Create meaning from information and data.
d. Creatively design or revise concepts and ideas.
e. Communicate concepts with clarity and precision in written, graphical, and oral forms.
f. Compose complete and well-supported arguments.
g. Apply critical and creative thinking
PLO Attributes Supported: 2 The Profession of Arms
a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession.
b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting.
c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership.
d. Meet organizational-level challenges.
e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long learners.
f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. MODULE ASSESSMENT PLAN: Your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives of each
lesson. You demonstrate the achievement of the TLO associated with the leadership lessons through your
written communication in the L400 Essay exam and your contribution to group learning in the classroom.
Your instructor assesses your performance using the standards defined in CGSC Bulletin No. 903, dated 12
February 2021 and CGSS Policy Memorandum No. 10 dated 20 November 2019.

Contribution to group learning (40%): Contribution in AOC builds upon the behaviors and skills you
developed in L100. Contribution to group learning is an important part of learning and is different from
participation. Participation is simply sharing and taking part in, while contribution is thoughtful, relevant,
concise, and helps the group construct and advance knowledge. Your ability to present your point of view
in a clear and logical manner and evaluate, defend, or adjust it based on comments and insights from others is
an essential skill for commanders and other organizational-level leaders. As a rule, the quality of your
contribution effort weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses.

L400BAS-5

Instructors assess your individual contribution to group learning along four broad categories:
Preparation before class, Participation in class activities, Contribution to class, and Contribution to
group learning (refer to Appendix A for specific criteria for each category). The criteria for this assessment
is behavioral based; you must exhibit the behaviors in class to achieve excellence in the category. As part of
this assessment, you conduct a self-assessment using the contribution to group learning rubric.
Approximately half way through the leadership lessons in AOC, you turn in this self-assessment to your
instructor and your instructor returns the form later, providing feedback on how well you contribute to
learning. This form also serves as a tool to facilitate discussion about your contribution to learning in order to
help you achieve the learning objectives.

Essay exam (60%): The essay exam is an analytical essay consisting of 10-12 pages (2500-3000 words),
in which you assess the application of L400 concepts by various commanders from a historical case study.
You must discuss a minimum of four of the eight concepts discussed in the L400 curriculum. Non-MOS
Option: Eligible students who receive written approval from the Dean of Academics complete a 5-6 page
(1300-1500 words) analytical essay on two directed concepts of the eight concepts discussed in the L400
curriculum. Individuals disqualified from earning the Masters of Operational Studies (MOS) by
receiving a TRI “C” grade” in any course complete the longer version of the essay. The exam and case
study are available in your first AOC leadership lesson (L411) on the date indicated on the class schedule.
This essay is your opportunity to demonstrate mastery of the concepts associated with TLOs 9 and 10. You
submit your exam through Blackboard on the date specified on the class schedule.

Assessment Instrument Method

Assessment Instrument/Method Essay Exam Contribution to Group Learning

TLO-AOC-9
Incorporate effective communication skills. X X

TLO-AOC-10
Analyze the commander’s role in leading
battalion and larger units in modern warfare.

X X

ELO 10.1
Explain the transition to command at brigade
and larger units

X X

ELO 10.2
Explain the leadership development process
in the operational domain

X X

ELO 10.3
Explain how the challenges of determining
cause and effect influence situational
understanding and decision-making

X X

ELO 10.4
Explain how a commander successfully
commands in multi-national operations

X X

ELO 10.5
Explain how a commander achieves
“commander’s visualization” during the
conduct of major operations

X X

ELO 10.6
Analyze the influences on a commander’s
decision-making

X X

L400BAS-6

ELO 10.7
Analyze the commander’s role in leading
ethical organizations

X X

ELO 10.8
Analyze how an organizational leader
applies followership to improve the
organization

X X

ISSUE MATERIAL: None. All material available on Blackboard

ADDITIONAL COURSE REQUIREMENTS: None.

L400BAS-7

Name: Date: Staff Group #:

Contribution to Group Learning
This form provides an opportunity for you to assess your contributions to your staff group learning
environment. The behaviors associated with contribution to group learning correspond to the critical
thinking skills and behaviors required for success as an organizational level leader in developing ethical
organizations that achieve results. You should consider the characterization of your contributions across
all lessons when completing this assessment, not a single instance or just one class. As part of your self-
assessment, consider your individual preparation for class, your participation in class, and how this
participation contributed to the learning of others. Using the following criteria, assess how well you
contributed to the learning environment:

Preparation before Class

I prepared for discussion by reading the assigned materiel

I completed the associated case study worksheet and note taking assistant for the lesson
Participation in Class Activities

My comments demonstrated an understanding of the readings, case study, and advance sheet
I contributed comments that demonstrated thought and reflection

I provided evidence or support for my positions drawing valid conclusions and using sound logic and
reasoning

I demonstrated breadth and depth of understanding and analysis of the subject matter by my comments
I did not dominate the discussion and my comments encouraged others’ involvement
Contribution in Class
My comments responded to or built logically on those of others (Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness)
I helped the group build a reasonable line of thought; synthesizing readings and personal experience in class

dialogue (Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness and Relationship Management)
My comments and questions demonstrated an understanding and synthesis of the major ideas of the class
My comments and questions demonstrated an understanding of the organizational perspective
Contribution to Group Learning
My comments and questions made others consider their existing mental models and assumptions

(Emotional Intelligence-Social Awareness)
My questions and comments reveal an ability to reflect on my own mental models and assumptions

(Emotional Intelligence-Self-Awareness)
I respectfully challenged others’ ideas, perspectives, and beliefs, promoting dialogue and a positive

classroom environment which contributed to group learning (Emotional Intelligence-Self-Management,
Relationship Management)

My comments and questions considered the ideas, beliefs, and viewpoints of other students (Emotional
Intelligence-Social Awareness, Relationship Management)

I facilitated discussions in the group with comments and questions while ensuring all other students had an
equal voice (Emotional Intelligence-Self-Awareness, Self-Management, Social Awareness, Relationship
Management)

“A” Consistently met or exceeded the above criteria

“B” Occasionally met the above criteria

L400BAS-8

“C” Rarely met the above criteria

“U” Often failed to meet the above criteria

After reviewing the criteria above, I assess my overall performance at this grade:
____________________
Assess what three students contributed most to your learning during the leadership lessons.

1.

2

3.

Student Comments:

(DO NOT WRITE BELOW THIS LINE)

Instructor Assessment: _____________
Instructor Comments and Feedback:

L411

The Art of Command

AY 2021–2022

L411AS-10

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: The Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

Advance Sheet for L411
Transition to Command

1. SCOPE

L411 introduces the leadership lessons in the Advanced Operations Course (AOC) by examining the art
of command and how command is distinctly different from other responsibilities an officer faces. Army
policy asserts “commanders are responsible for all their unit does or fails to do.” What does this really
mean and what are the implications? What accounts for the unique challenges of command and how do
leaders address these challenges? L411 addresses these questions while examining three aspects of
command; developing an understanding of the mental shift required of a leader assuming command, how
commanders solve problems to accomplish the mission and improve the organization, and how
commanders apply judgment when assessing an organization. As you consider these areas, you also
examine the differing roles of a commander and staff officer. While both officers accomplish the mission
and improve the organization, the expectations of commanders are greater. These greater expectations
distinguish the responsibilities of command from those of a staff officer and create the proverbial
‘burden’ of command.

The case study for this lesson is about a leader taking command of an organization in crisis while
conducting large-scale combat operations during the Korean War. Specifically, we analyze the actions of
LTG Matthew B. Ridgway upon assuming command of Eighth Army in December 1950. This case is an
opportunity to examine what it means to exercise the art of command. Ridgway provides an example of a
leader successfully commanding a large organization during large-scale ground combat operations while
contending with the complexity, ambiguity, and uncertainty of a dynamic operating environment.

As a result of this lesson, you achieve a solid understanding of the mental transition an organizational
leader makes when assuming command, how the elements of command support applying the art of
command, and how a commander uses judgment to solve problems and assess an organization.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES

Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in
developing organizations.

This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger
units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet.

TLO-AOC-10
Action: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger units in modern warfare.
Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within
complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of
Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block
examination.
Standard: Analysis includes−
1. Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units.

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L411AS-11

2. Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain.
3. Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding and
decision-making.
4. Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations.
5. Explain how a commander achieves “commander’s visualization” during the conduct of major
operations.
6. Analyze the influences on a commander’s decision-making.
7. Analyze how an organizational leader applies followership to improve the organization.
Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Analysis

ELO- AOC-10.1
Action: Explain the transition to command at brigade and larger units.
Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within
complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of
Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block
examination.
Standards: Explanation includes:
1. Explain the mental transitions a commander must make when taking command.
2. Explain how a commander solves problems and improves the organization.
3. Explain how a commander uses the elements of command.
Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension
CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported:
a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession.
b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting.
c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership.
d. Meet organizational-level challenges.
e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long
learners.
f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: L411 advance sheets and readings.

b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement:

Read:
L411RA: Thomas Bradbeer, “Ridgway Takes Command.” Command and General Staff College

(Fort Leavenworth), October 17, 2014. (17 pages)
L411RB: US Army, ADP 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of Army Forces,

(Washington, DC: Department of the Army, July 2019) Chapter 2, Paragraphs 2-1 through 2-66, (12
pages)

L411RC: US Army, ADP 5-0, The Operations Process, (Washington, DC: Department of the
Army, July 2019) Chapter 5, Paragraphs 5-1 to 5-39. (8 pages)

L411AS-12

For additional readings on this topic, consider:
Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953 (New York: Times Books, 1987).

Considered one of the best histories of the Korean War, Blair’s book discusses the backgrounds,
leadership, and decisions of the key leaders. For this lesson pages 557 through 630 provide both depth
and breadth to the actions and decisions made by LTG Ridgway upon taking command of Eighth
Army in December 1950.

David Halberstam, The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War (New York: Hyperion
Books, 2007). An excellent work outlining all facets of the Korean War. For this lesson pages 486
through 502 provide details and first person accounts of how Ridgway rebuilt the Eighth Army and
prepared it to resume offensive operations against the Chinese and North Korean forces.

(2) Second Requirement: Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the case. The

worksheet is located in Blackboard under the L400 Art of Command area.

(3) Third Requirement: Reflective questions. Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class.

– How do the expectations held by seniors and subordinates of leaders selected for
command change when that leader assumes command?
– Do leaders who assume command change the expectations they hold of themselves?
– What are the elements of command and how do they support applying the art of
command?
– How does Ridgway apply the art of command in Eighth Army?
– How does a commander assess a large organization?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access to:
L411 advance sheets and readings
ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession
ADP 5-0, The Operations Process
ADP 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of Army Forces
FM 3-0, Operations

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor
accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your
performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and
contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses.
See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed
assessment information.

L411RA-13

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: The Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading A
Ridgway Takes Command

Author: Dr. Thomas Bradbeer

“Classic military leadership changed the course of the Korean War. In a sustained feat of combat
command, an American general seized control of a fleeing and exhausted multinational army fired it with
fighting spirit and wheeled it about to face a larger enemy force. . . .The story of how General Matthew B.
Ridgway kept the 8th U.S. Army in the war eventually hurling the Chinese, with awesome casualties, back
into North Korea is not a story of heroism, although heroism abounded. It is a story of disciplined combat
leadership, relentlessly but wisely applied. It is a story of military know how, of adamant refusal to
compromise with adversity, and of a stubborn leader who demanded the absolute best from every man
and every weapon. Judgment, unclouded by fear or apprehension, played a part, but above all, utter
confidence in his men and himself wrought what was little short of a military miracle.”

James F. Schnabel. “Ridgway in Korea” Military Review

Having ignored the threats from China’s Foreign Minister Zhou En lai that American forces not cross
the 38th parallel, President Truman’s foreign policy and military advisers (including the newly established
Central Intelligence Agency) had known as early as October 20 that the Chinese Communist Forces
(CCF) had moved into North Korea. What Truman, Secretary of Defense George C. Marshall, Chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Omar N. Bradley, and Secretary of State Dean Acheson failed to
realize was that the Chinese had entered the war in much greater numbers than analysts estimated. By the
end of October, hundreds of thousands of Chinese Soldiers had crossed the border undetected into North
Korea. Forty-eight hours after launching the “home by Christmas” offensive, U.S. Eighth Army and X
Corps found themselves under attack by two Chinese Army groups. General Bradley received a rather
hysterical message from MacArthur.

The developments resulting from our assault movements have now assumed a clear definition.
All hope of localization of the Korean conflict to enemy forces composed of North Korean troops
with alien token elements can now be completely abandoned. The Chinese military forces are
committed in North Korea in great and ever increasing strength. We face an entirely new war.

Bradley called the president on November 28th, “We’ve got a terrific situation on our hands,”
Truman told his staff after receiving the message. “This is the worst situation we have had yet. We’ll just
have to meet it as we’ve met all the rest.” General Walton Walker, commander of the Eighth Army, was
forced to order a general withdrawal of all of his forces on November 29 in what would become the
longest retreat in U.S. Army history.

The retreat of the Eighth Army, although serious, was not catastrophic. The UN command had
superior weapons and held both naval and air superiority that the Chinese could not hope to compete with.
Chinese tactics in Korea were based on the premise that they would commit a massive amount of
manpower against the units they faced, with the intent of overwhelming the enemy with human-wave
attacks. If this was not successful, there would be a lull in the fighting to allow for resupply and
reinforcement. The Chinese had demonstrated, especially against U.S. and British and Commonwealth
units, a tendency to overextend and were forced to pause long enough to move up fresh units to replace

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L411RA-14

those destroyed in combat. Much of the Chinese logistical operations were dependent upon thousands of
pack animals and Soldiers to transport food and ammunition to the front.

This tactical pause allowed UN forces the opportunity to retreat, regroup, and establish new defensive
positions. With the CCF unable to exploit their gains, the Eighth Army was able to preserve much of its
combat power.

Within a week after the Chinese counteroffensive, the center of the UN line had been withdrawn fifty
miles. Abandoning the plan to stabilize a line of defense north of Pyongyang from coast to coast, the
decision was made that the Eighth Army would contract its broad front and establish a defensive line
along the 38th parallel. The Chinese advance slowed further as they experienced difficulty in maintaining
contact with withdrawing UN forces. As the Eighth Army retreated south of Pyongyang, it tightened its
lines and presented a shorter front. UN Forces abandoned Pyongyang on December 5th. Following a
scorched-earth policy, UN units burned warehouses, supply dumps, barracks, and anything of military
value as the covering force consisting of the U.S. 25th Infantry Division, two British brigades, and the
ROK 1st Infantry Division fell back across the Taedong River.

The second week of December found the enemy shifting many of its units from the west to the center
of the peninsula, which was a telltale sign that its offensive against UN forces would soon resume.
Pressed between the Chinese from the north and thousands of North Korean guerrillas to the southeast,
the Eighth Army might have found itself driven into the Yellow Sea. By December 15, UN forces had
withdrawn below the 38th parallel and formed a defensive perimeter north and east of Seoul.

There had been no major engagements with the CCF since December 1, but an uneasy lull hung over
the entire sector. Chinese reinforcements and supplies moved southwards until hard fighting broke out
along the right flank of the Eighth Army. Two ROK divisions engaged large North Korean formations in
the frozen Imjim River area between Yonchon and Kapyong. ROK troops fought north and south of the
parallel to straighten out their positions, but no Chinese units were reported south of the 38th parallel.
Farther to the west thousands of refugees fled from the capital city of Seoul.

MacArthur’s headquarters knew that the North Korean People’s Army (NKPA) had been
reconstituted, retrained, and re-equipped by the Chinese. Tentatively, fifteen North Korean divisions,
roughly 150,000 men, along with twenty-six Chinese divisions and a minimum of 200,000 men in reserve
were known to be in North Korea. With this information, MacArthur painted an extremely foreboding
picture for Truman and his military chiefs of staff. “The situation within the Eighth Army becomes
increasingly critical.” He forecasted that it would have to retreat all the way back to Seoul and “that
unless ground reinforcements of the greatest magnitude” arrived quickly, the UN command would be
“either forced into successive withdrawals or forced to take up beachhead bastions positions [which]
would afford little hope of anything beyond defense.” The Republic of Korea (ROK) Army for the most
part was combat ineffective. Unless there was some positive and immediate action taken by the Pentagon
and the JCS, MacArthur predicted a campaign of “steady attrition leading to final destruction can
reasonably be contemplated.”

To defend the ROK, General Walker had five corps in the line south of the 38th parallel. North and
west of Seoul, he positioned the U.S. I and IX Corps. The ROK I, II, and III Corps held the remainder of
the coast-to-coast front. Defensive positions thus stretched nearly 140 miles from the Yellow Sea to the
Sea of Japan. Behind them in reserve, was the X Corps, which successfully evacuated from Hungnam
over a two-week period from December 11 through 24. All of North Korea was once again in the hands of
the CCF.

L411RA-15

Truman’s Assessment Team goes to Korea

Truman directed MacArthur “that the preservation of your forces is now the primary consideration.
Consolidation of forces into beachheads is concurred in.” He also directed that the Chief of Staff of the
Army, General J Lawton Collins, form an assessment team and fly to Tokyo to grasp the situation at
General MacArthur’s headquarters before flying to Korea and meeting with General Walker and his staff.
Collins arrived in Tokyo on December 4, and after meeting with MacArthur, he and his team flew to
Seoul where they met with General Walker. The next day Collins met with Major General Edward
Almond, commander of X Corps and his subordinate division commanders before he returned to Tokyo
to confer once more with General MacArthur and his senior leaders. They discussed three possible
courses of action the U.S. might take in Korea. MacArthur concluded that unless the Pentagon provided
large numbers of reinforcements to replace his losses, the United Nations Command should pull out of
Korea. Collins agreed that if the UN “did not fully support operations in Korea in the face of continued
all-out Chinese attack, that General MacArthur should be directed to take the necessary steps to safeguard
his command and prepare plans for evacuation from Korea.”

While Collins was in Japan and Korea, senior officers on the Army staff in Washington, including
Generals Wade H. Haislip, Matthew B. Ridgway, Alfred M. Gruenther, Charles L. Bolte, and William O.
Reeder assessed the impact the CCF intervention had on the strategic and operational situation in Korea.
Based largely on MacArthur’s gloomy reports, they “concluded that United Nations forces stood in some
danger of being overrun and destroyed.” General Bolte, the Army Chief of Plans, recommended that
Eighth Army evacuate Korea as soon as possible. He based this recommendation on the lack of available
reinforcements. The reinforcements Eighth Army required were not available for the Korean Peninsula
because of mission requirements in Europe as well as requirement for maintaining US forces for the
defense of Japan. The chiefs of staff decided to take no action or make no recommendation to the
president until Collins returned from Korea and provided them and the president his assessment of the
situation there.

Map 1: The UN Command withdraws South November 25, 1950- January 24, 1951. Map courtesy:
War in Peacetime by J. Lawton Collins (with permission from the Houghton Mifflin Company)

L411RA-16

Collins returned to Washington on December 8 and Truman requested he brief the British-American
conference sponsored by Truman and the British Prime Minister Clement Attlee at the White House.
Attlee was meeting with Truman to discuss the future direction of the war now that the Chinese had
committed themselves to supporting North Korea (and to gain clarification about Truman’s comments
about the possible use of atomic bombs in Korea made the week prior). Collins reported that if the
Chinese continued offensive operations it would not be possible to hold the Seoul-Inchon area; but he
added that if Eighth Army was not required to hold the South Korean capital, it was possible to retain a
bridgehead based at Pusan. The situation in the east where X Corps was located was very serious but
Collins was convinced that it was possible to evacuate the entire corps along with South Korean units by
sea and they could then be repositioned in the south near Pusan. He concluded, “the situation in Korea
was serious but no longer critical.”

After the British departed, Collins briefed the president in private. He reported that MacArthur and he
discussed three courses of action. The first was to continue combat operations against the CCF in Korea
only, adhering to the restrictions that had already been put in place (no air attacks on bases in Manchuria,
no naval blockade against the Chinese mainland, no use of nationalist Chinese troops, no major
reinforcements received from the UN or U.S. before the spring). MacArthur argued that if this course of
action was followed the Eighth Army would be forced by the Chinese to evacuate from Korea.

The second course of action called for a naval blockade by the United Nations of the Chinese coast,
the bombing of mainland China, and the introduction of Chinese nationalist troops into Korea and south
China. “Subsequent operations in Korea, or withdrawal therefrom, should be dependent upon Chinese
reactions.” This was the course of action that MacArthur recommended the president accept.

The third course of action was if the Chinese communists voluntarily agreed to remain north of the
38th parallel an armistice should be negotiated and accepted by the UN.

Truman was shocked that MacArthur favored the second course of action, which the president
believed “might well mean all-out, general world-war-atomic weapons and all.” He believed that
introducing Chinese nationalist forces into south China and bombing Chinese cities, ports, and airbases
would be an act of war and quite possibly bring the Soviets in on the side of the Chinese. It disturbed
Truman greatly that he and General MacArthur’s perspectives on the strategic situation in Korea were so
far apart.

Receiving disparate advice from his senior military and foreign policy advisers in Washington and
from the commander on the scene in Korea, Truman wrote, “The first two weeks of December 1950 were
a time of crisis. The military news from Korea was bad.” As events would play out during the rest of the
month, the situation got worse before it got better. On December 9 Truman wrote, “I’ve worked for peace
for five years and six months and it looks like World War III is here. I hope not but we must meet
whatever comes and we will.”

In a radio and television address to the nation on December 15, Truman declared “a state of national
emergency” when he reported to America and the free world that the communists “are now willing to
push to the brink of general war [in order] to get what they want.” In response, the United States armed
forces would expand to 3.5 million men and women as rapidly as possible and production of military
aircraft, electronic components, and military vehicles would be increased by some 400 to 500 percent. To
prevent crippling inflation he would impose selective price and wage controls and take other measures.
“No nation has ever had a greater responsibility than ours at this moment. We must remember that our
goal is not war but peace. We are willing to negotiate differences, but we will not yield to aggressions.
Appeasement of evil is not the road to peace.”

L411RA-17

At this time, Truman made two fundamental decisions. The first was that the U.S. (and the UN)
would not voluntarily leave Korea or abandon the ROK government or its army. UN forces would
continue to fight until forced out of Korea and, if forced out, would take as many South Koreans as
possible with them to Japan. Since General Collins believed that it would be possible for UN forces to
maintain the Pusan perimeter as long as required, Truman still had to consider what options were
available to him if the Chinese committed overwhelming force against the Eighth Army in an attempt to
throw the U. S. and UN forces off the peninsula. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General
Bradley, believed that short of a massive commitment of replacement troops by the U.S. and the UN it
was not realistic to think that the Eighth Army could clear the CCF out of North Korea and unite the
country under free elections. It was evident that by the middle of December this goal would be
abandoned. Acting on the recommendation made by his Secretary of State Dean Acheson, General
Bradley, and with the concurrence of the British Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, Truman made the
decision to change the objective in Korea to negotiating an armistice with the Chinese and returning to an
international boundary along the 38th parallel.

The problem that faced Truman, Attlee, and the other leaders of the countries that had military forces
operating under the auspices of the UN mandate, was how to achieve an armistice without paying too
high a price. It was conceivable that, since the Chinese held the initiative and had put their armies on the
offensive, that they would probably propose a unification of Korea under a communist regime, demand a
seat in the United Nations, call for a cessation of American aid to France in their war in Indochina, and
even possibly demand the right to physically occupy Formosa, all of which were unacceptable to Truman.
In fact, the Chinese rejected both U.S. and British overtures for a ceasefire.

On December 19, the Secretary of Defense George C. Marshall met with the Joint Chiefs of Staff to
discuss possible courses of action if the Soviet Union entered the war on the side of the Chinese and ways
to protect a vulnerable Japan. While the meeting was in session, a message from General MacArthur
arrived that also addressed Japan’s vulnerability. MacArthur requested that the four National Guard
divisions mobilized in September be sent to Japan immediately where they could complete their training
and at the same time serve as a show of force to the Soviets. As Bradley recorded:

No member of the JCS wanted to comply with this request. In the first place, the four divisions
had only been in camp a few weeks. They had been beefed up with thousands of draftees. The
divisions would not even complete basic training until March 1. It would be extremely unwise
downright crazy in fact to send them to Japan. Moreover, it would cause chaos in our overall
training and expansion plans and disrupt and delay our vital need to send U.S. troops to Europe.

Both Truman and the state department agreed with the JCS, and on December 23, the JCS notified
MacArthur that the president had disapproved his request and “no additional divisions would be deployed
to the Far East.”

Another critical event occurred on December 23 that would have an immeasurable impact on the
future conduct of the Korean War. General Walton Walker, the Eighth Army commander, died in a motor
vehicle accident when his jeep collided with a South Korean weapons carrier. During one of his earlier
trips to the Far East Command, General Collins had discussed with General MacArthur a possible
successor to the Eighth Army commander in the event that Walker was killed or injured. They agreed that
General Matthew B. Ridgway, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Administration, would be his
replacement. Upon hearing of General Walker’s death, President Truman immediately designated General
Ridgway as the new commander of Eighth Army. Ridgway heard of his new assignment while at a dinner
party. Without delaying to spend Christmas with his family, he left Washington the next day and arrived
in Tokyo before midnight on Christmas Day.

L411RA-18

LTG Matthew Ridgway

Ridgway emerged from World War II as one of the Army’s most successful and respected field
generals. Known as one of the fathers of the American airborne community, he was the first commanding
general of the 82d Airborne Division. Ridgway organized and trained the lead the division for more than
two years from its initial formation in the United States through much hard fighting in Sicily, Italy,
France, and Holland. Shortly following the Allied invasion of France, he made lieutenant general and
took command of the newly formed XVIII Airborne Corps until the end of fighting in Europe. He proved
himself one of, if not the best combat corps commander in the entire Army.

Following WWII, Ridgway began a series of post-war assignments that laid a path to future wartime
command. Immediately after WWII Ridgway briefly served under MacArthur in the Philippines.
In October 1945, he moved back to Europe and took command of the Mediterranean theater. In January
the following year, Eisenhower selected Ridgway to serve as the Army’s representative to the Military
Staff Committee of the United Nations. From 1946 to 1948, Ridgway would gain diplomatic experience
and help shape the nature of UN military policy for the Security Council. Following duty with the UN, he
took over the newly formed Caribbean Defense Command in Panama until mid-September 1949. From
Panama, he moved to the Army staff to serve as the deputy chief of staff for operations and administration
under General Lawton Collins.

Ridgway assumed his Pentagon duties at a pivotal time in American military history. Evidence of
Russia’s first nuclear test were verified, the Rosenbergs had been accused of providing nuclear secrets to
the Soviets, and the communists under Mao were within two weeks of overthrowing one of our closest
allies in Asia, the nationalist Chinese. The Cold War was heating up and America’s civilian and military
leaders were in debate about how to defend America and the free world. Ridgway often found himself at
odds with many officials who thought the next war would be an atomic exchange with little or no role for
the foot Soldier. Ridgway challenged this line of thought and advocated a balanced force that leveraged
the entire military and the industrial strength of the nation closely linked with strong international
alliances. He lobbied hard against total war and advocated the formation of a small committee of experts
to develop a grand strategy for World War III.

Leading up to the Korean War, Ridgway’s career had spanned three distinct phases-two interwar
periods and WWII. When war erupted in June 1950, many, including Ridgway, believed World War III
was imminent. Collins appointed Ridgway his chief adviser and expert on all matters related to the war.
He was the first to review every report that came out of theater; consequently, he was the most
knowledgeable officer on the Army staff regarding the situation in Korea. During the next six months,
Ridgway maintained a withering schedule, working practically around the clock to provide a steady
stream of men and equipment to MacArthur and his field commanders. Ridgway believed America should
mobilize the country much as it did during WWII. The debate continued on the war in Korea and the
possibility of escalation to global war and American preparedness if such events occurred. In each of
these areas, Ridgway had formed definite views and he was a major contributor to this dialog in
Washington.

Regarding the tactical situation in Korea, Ridgway expressed his doubt about the competence of
many of the American senior field commanders. He was disappointed in their military leadership and the
performance of their staffs. Ridgway was unaware of his position on the command succession list;
however, with Walker’s unexpected death he would soon see firsthand the condition of the battered
Eighth Army.

L411RA-19

Ridgway Takes Over

Ridgway met with MacArthur on December 26. His reputation was well known to the UN
commander. Now serving together for the third time in 31 years, Ridgway had earned the complete trust
and confidence of MacArthur, who told him, “Form your own opinions and use your own judgment. I
will support you. I will assume responsibility. You have my complete confidence”. MacArthur also
revealed several marked changes in his point of view on two subjects of great importance. First, he
cautioned Ridgway that the ability of tactical air power to stop the movement of enemy troops and
supplies were greatly exaggerated. Second, MacArthur was now prepared to turn over full control of
military operations in Korea to Ridgway, which he had refused to do to General Walker. At the
completion of the meeting, Ridgway asked his new commander, “General, if I get over there and find the
situation warrants it, do I have your permission to attack?” MacArthur replied, “Do what you think best
Matt. The Eighth Army is yours.” Ridgway would later write:

That is the sort of orders that puts heart into a soldier. Now the full responsibilities were mine;
not to be delegated, as authority may be delegated, but indivisibly and ceaselessly mine, day and
night, as every commander’s responsibilities are his alone, from theater to infantry squad from
five stars to two stripes. Command responsibilities for as long as it might please God and my
superiors to keep me on the job.

MacArthur made it clear that Ridgway did not have to obtain permission from general headquarters
for any proposed operation, and Ridgway did not do so. In proper deference to his commander, however,
Ridgway always notified MacArthur of his intentions in advance of any major operation. MacArthur
never questioned Ridgway, which was in marked contrast to the tight control he had always maintained
over General Walker.

Before leaving for Korea on December 26, Ridgway met with the senior air and naval commanders at
MacArthur’s headquarters, General Stratemeyer and Admiral Joy, and gained their perspectives as to
what was taking place on the peninsula. After this meeting, he flew on to Korea. Already planning how he
intended to launch his army into a counterattack, he was more than surprised about what he found at
Eighth Army headquarters when he landed at Taegu at 4:15 P.M. on December 26, Korea time. The first
fact that struck him was the realization that the main command post was too far to the rear and too
populated with staff officers whom he firmly believed should have been much closer to the front and to
the fighting units.

Ridgway immediately issued a message to every member of Eighth Army:

I have complete confidence in our ultimate success—confidence born of your achievements and
the splendid spirit everywhere in evidence throughout this great inter-service allied team.
Having performed with great gallantry and skill under conditions as adverse as any United States
forces have encountered since Valley Forge, there is no shadow of doubt of the character of this
Army’s future conduct, teamed as it is with our own great services and our allies. We face severe
trials. We shall need dogged determination in attack and utmost tenacity in defense. We shall
need resourcefulness. The action of one single platoon or squad may virtually affect the whole
command. Never before have leaders both command and staff had a greater challenge or a finer
opportunity to show America at its best. May God be with you in the coming year.

Ridgway received a brief that night that the combat situation remained unclear. One reason for this
was that the Eighth Army broke contact with the CCF on or about December 5 and not regained it. The
“intelligence situation was deplorable,” Ridgway would later write. No one had any idea of how many
CCF troops had been committed to Korea or if they had crossed the 38th parallel in full force. On the

L411RA-20

Eighth Army situation maps, Ridgway remembered, the staff depicted the CCF by a large red “goose egg”
with “174,000” scrawled on its center. In fact, the true number was closer to 300,000.

When Ridgway arrived in Korea, the Eighth Army consisted of almost 350,000 men, including
Almond’s X Corps, which was reorganizing and re-equipping south of Taegu. The three American corps
were comprised of 7 American divisions, plus the 187th Airborne RCT. The ROK Army fielded three
corps consisting of nine divisions. The other major combat forces consisted of a British brigade, a
Commonwealth brigade, a Turkish brigade, with individual infantry battalions from Canada, Belgium,
France, Greece, the Netherlands, the Philippines, and Thailand; along with a field artillery brigade from
New Zealand. In all, Ridgway commanded 163 infantry battalions, which was the equivalent of eighteen
infantry divisions. Eighth Army was about twice the size of the U.S. armies that operated in Europe
during World War II and was the largest field army ever commanded by an American general.

The greatest weakness Ridgway faced was that about half of the Eighth Army’s fighting strength was
composed of ROK units. According to noted Korea War historian Clay Blair, “At the beginning of the
war the ROK officer corps had been weak and corrupt. In the fighting since, many of the most courageous
and competent ROK officers had been killed, incapacitated by wounds or captured.” Ridgway
remembered that the “experience level” of the average ROK division commander was about equivalent to
a “young U.S. Army captain.”

At dawn on his second day in Korea, he flew to the Eighth Army Advanced Command Post in Seoul.
Stating there is “no substitute for personal reconnaissance,” Ridgway ordered his pilot to fly a roundabout
route, covering some sixty miles of rugged mountain country that allowed him to analyze the terrain and
the ridge lines that Eighth Army might have to stand and fight along. The rough, mountainous terrain
provided “little comfort to a Soldier commanding a mechanized army. The granite peaks rose to six
thousand feet, the ridges were knife-edged, the slopes steep, and the narrow valleys twisted and turned
like snakes. Scrub oaks and stunted pines covered the roads and trails and the lower hills were covered
with, fine cover for an individual Soldier who knew how to conceal himself. It was guerrilla country, an
ideal battleground for the walking Chinese rifleman, but a miserable place for our road-bound troops who
moved on wheels.”

Arriving at his advance command post, Ridgway was surprised to find only a handful of officers. The
vast majority were back at the main CP in Taegu, two hundred miles from the front—a situation Ridgway
intended to resolve. He also met the I and IX Corps commanders, MG Frank W. Millburn and MG John
B. Coulter, and the Eighth Army’s Deputy Chief of Staff, Colonel William A. Collier. They discussed
various means of improving the combat potential of Eight Army and the possibilities of holding a
bridgehead north of the Han River. Ridgway emphasized the necessity for better lateral communications,
particularly between Coulter’s IX Corps and the ROK III Corps, and close coordination in planning and
action between the I and IX Corps.

Ridgway then met with U.S. Ambassador John J. Muccio, who delivered some startling information.
Muccio was informed that there was a gap in Eighth Army’s right rear, which presented a dangerous
threat from the direction of Wonju. Ridgway was incensed that he had to learn this critical intelligence
from the U.S. ambassador and not from his intelligence section. That said, Ridgway took immediate
action and ordered the 2d Infantry Division under Major General Robert B. McClure, to move up and
block the opening. The 2d Infantry Division arrived in its new position only hours before the Chinese
attempted to exploit the gap.

Muccio then escorted Ridgway to meet with the South Korean president, Syngman Rhee. “Mr.
President I am glad to be here. And I’ve come to stay” the new Eighth Army commander said boldly.
Ridgway later wrote, “There was no bluster in the statement. I meant it from the heart. We were faced

L411RA-21

with only two alternatives here. We could stand and fight and conquer. Or we could be driven into the
sea. And to the second possibility I never gave the slightest thought.”

During this meeting and what followed over the course of the next three days Ridgway began the
hardest task of his military career: rebuilding the Eighth Army into an effective fighting force. One of the
first steps in the process was to evaluate the senior leadership of the units that made up the Eighth Army.
First, he wanted to meet his three corps and seven division commanders face to face. This was easier said
than done as his formation was spread out over the entire width and breadth of South Korea.

When he arrived in Korea, only three of the seven U.S. combat divisions were on the front line. The
24th and 25th Infantry Divisions were defending along the western corridor and were at about two-thirds
strength. The 1st Cavalry Division, also under-strength, was in blocking positions in the center of the line.
The 2d Infantry Division, having suffered heavy losses during the Chinese counter-offensive in late
November, was still reorganizing and refitting in the Eight Army rear area. The 1st Marine Division had
completed its movement to the Masan area along the south coast and the 3rd and 7th Infantry Divisions
were refitting west of Pusan.

It was largely because his subordinate units were so spread out geographically that Ridgway was only
able to meet with two of his three corps commanders and two of his seven divisions during his first few
days in country. After meeting with several of his senior commanders and their staffs he reflected later:

There was a definite air of nervousness, of gloomy foreboding, of uncertainty, a spirit of
apprehension as to what the future held. It was clear to me that our troops had lost confidence. I
could read it in their eyes, in their walk. I could read it in the faces of their leaders from sergeants
right to the top. They were unresponsive, reluctant to talk. I had to drag information out of them.
There was a complete lack of that alertness, that aggressiveness, that you find in troops whose
spirit is high.

In fact, the situation was even worse than that. Eighth Army was under orders from MacArthur that
should the CCF attack, it would defend in successive positions (lines B, C, D, etc.), but as Ridgway
learned through his interviews and observations, not many Soldiers or their leaders had the spirit or
conviction to stand and fight. Many of them were under the impression that the Eighth Army was going to
withdraw further south to Pusan and then evacuate the peninsula, similar to what the British had done at
Dunkirk eleven years before. “It was a defeated army, a disintegrating army. It was an army not in retreat
[but] in flight. It was something bordering on disgrace.”

Ridgway also interviewed enlisted men whenever he stopped, interested in their candid points of
view. Traveling by light plane, helicopter, and jeep he evaluated the commanders, the Soldiers, and the
terrain; quickly ascertaining both the physical and psychological state of his new command. He
understood the ordeal his men had gone through over the preceding six months. They had been hurriedly
gathered from around the world and thrown together into units that had never been up to strength, nor
fully equipped, and had little cohesion. They had been sent to fight in a strange land that most had never
heard of in an undeclared war that they did not understand. Ridgway knew that the Army he had taken
command of was dispirited from the senior generals down to the private Soldier.

It was very apparent the attack he was planning in his head was not feasible until he could rebuild the
morale and fighting spirit of the Eighth Army. His visits also confirmed that there were other weaknesses
along the front that would have to be addressed, especially with the South Korean units. If that were not
enough, there was plenty of evidence that the CCF were preparing their own offensive during the coming
New Year holiday and the Eighth Army would have little time to prepare for this new offensive.

L411RA-22

Ridgway estimated that the chances of Eighth Army stopping the CCF attack depended chiefly on the
commitment of the few reserves that he had available and on revitalizing the fighting spirit of his Army.
What really upset him was the lack of information on the types of CCF units, their locations, and their
capabilities.

The only solid reserve available to counter the impending CCF attack was the X Corps. As a
preliminary caution, Ridgway assigned the Second Infantry Division to Almond’s command with the
intent of moving the X Corps into the east-central Chongchon sector, held by the ROK III Corps. This
would narrow the front held by the ROK forces.

While preparing his Army for the oncoming Chinese assault, Ridgway “was quietly but firmly
bearing down on combat leaders and staff officers at all echelons to change their defeatist attitudes.”
Ridgway began to imprint a new toughness into his Army. With his actions and words he forced his
commanders and their men to shrug off the lethargy bred by defeat and continuous retreat. According to
military historian James F. Schnabel, “Where toughness was required he was tough; where persuasion
was indicated, he persuaded; and where personal example was needed, he set the example.”

Ridgway believed the defeatist attitude he found across the Eighth Army started at the top with what
he perceived to be poor leadership at the corps and division levels. He found a “lack of aggressiveness” at
those levels, Ridgway wrote Collins, so much so that he was convinced “he could not execute his future
plans” with some of the leaders he presently had. For that reason, “above all else,” he wrote, “we had to
learn to be ruthless with our general officers.” Ridgway firmly believed he had to have “young, vigorous
division commanders of greatest potential value for war service.”

Neither Milburn nor Almond met with Ridgway’s very high professional standards. Though Milburn
was well liked by his troops, he lacked the “spark of initiative.” Almond was the opposite; recklessly bold
as evidenced by the recent disaster east of the Chosin Reservoir. He was also “apt to be pretty rough on
other people’s sensibilities, cutting and intolerant.” Almond’s first meeting with Ridgway did not go well.
Ridgway notified him that from now on he was going to have to play it straight. No more bypassing
Eighth Army and coordinating directly with MacArthur and his headquarters. He would be allowed to
keep his command but he would have to give up his job as MacArthur’s chief of staff. Almond was badly
shaken when he left his initial meeting with Ridgway. “He emerged quite deflated, still a corps
commander, but that and nothing more; a man who had just been told in a very tough way the new rules
of the headquarters and that he was no longer going to play games with the Eighth Army commander.”

Ridgway decided that he could re-instill a new vigor and aggressiveness into Milburn’s leadership
style by co-locating his Eighth Army advanced CP with Milburn’s corps headquarters. At the same time
he would keep a close eye on Almond. Ridgway spared his old friend, the I Corps commander, but there
is evidence that he still believed that the I Corps staff required some attention to restore their
aggressiveness and initiative. After sitting through an operations update briefing by the I Corps G3, Col
John R. Jeter, who outlined the corps plans for “defending in successive positions,” Ridgway asked,
“Where were the corps attack plans?” Flustered, Jeter replied that there were no attack plans since the
corps was withdrawing. After the briefing, Ridgway directed MG Milburn to relieve Colonel Jeter. It was
obvious Ridgway was sending a message, but it caused much resentment within the I Corps staff. Jeter
was very popular and a proven combat leader who had commanded three different battalions from
Normandy to Germany in the last war. Most believed that in briefing the withdrawal of I Corps to
Ridgway, Jeter was merely carrying out what MacArthur’s headquarters had directed the corps to do. The
incident spread like wildfire throughout the corps and the entire Eighth Army.

Realizing the CCF offensive was imminent; Ridgway laid out his plan for the defense of a Seoul
bridgehead and focused his attention on the dangerous situation in the center of the trans-peninsular line

L411RA-23

held by the ROK corps and divisions. Ridgway ordered Almond to move his X Corps headquarters to
Wonju immediately to take charge of and reinforce the central sector. Ridgway believed that Wonju was
“second only to Seoul” in tactical importance. Almond would use the 2d and 7th Infantry Divisions. As
further back up, Ridgway shifted the 1st Cavalry Division to the northeast of Seoul under IX Corps control
to backstop the adjacent ROK divisions. His orders committed the six Army divisions in Korea but not
the 1st Marine Division, which was refitting in Masan and expected to be put in the rear to serve as the
rear guard for Eighth Army as it withdrew through all of its defensive lines and evacuated South Korea at
Pusan.

Ridgway had no intention of evacuating South Korea and wanted to commit the Marine division into
the Eighth Army line as soon as possible. He summoned the 1st Marine Division commander, Major
General O. P. Smith, to Almond’s headquarters at Kyongju. He was very impressed with him. “Smith was
top flight, a splendid commander. Good tactical judgment and a gentleman. He was very calm and had
extreme consideration for his troops. If it hadn’t been for his moral courage and doing some of the things
he did [at Chosin], which were not in full accord with the instructions he had received [from Almond],
he’d have lost a great part of his division.” Smith and his fellow Marines were also impressed with
Ridgway. Ridgway directed the Marines throw away the maps they had received for Eighth Army’s
withdrawal plans to Pusan. “He gave us a talk expressing his complete confidence regarding the outcome
in Korea. He had no orders regarding evacuation and hoped to be able to defend on some line and launch
limited counterattacks. He stressed the necessity for reconnaissance and maintaining contact, he wanted
less looking backwards. Ridgway brought a new fresh attitude, a new fresh breath of life to the whole
Eighth Army. Ridgway allayed Smith’s concerns when the Marine commander reiterated that the Marine
division would never again serve under General Almond. “As long as he, General Ridgway, commanded
the Eighth Army, the 1st Marine Division would never again be placed under command of the X Corps.”
Ridgway left Smith’s division in Masan for the time being but informed Smith that he was planning to
have the 1st Marine Division move forward toward the western front under the command of IX Corps.

Ridgway expected the CCF main effort to strike the UN forces in the western sector with the aim of
recapturing Seoul. He believed, like the previous NKPA attack that started the war in June, it would be
two-pronged, down the main Pyongyang-Seoul highway through Munsan and down the Uijongbu
Corridor. To blunt and stop this attack and prevent the capture of Seoul, Ridgway directed that I Corps
and IX Corps establish a main line of resistance along the Imjin River and be prepared to fall back on
Ridgway’s orders to a Seoul “bridgehead” in defensive positions created by tens of thousands of South
Korean laborers. To prevent CCF artillery from ranging Seoul and the Han River bridges, the defensive
perimeter was to be very large, extending northward as far as Uijongbu.

The son of an artilleryman, Ridgway had a fine appreciation for the power of artillery. He arrived in
Korea convinced that properly employed artillery fire, massed and coordinated, could do much to offset
the CCF manpower advantage. He was dismayed to find out that the Eighth Army had an acute shortage
of artillery. At Army, level there was but one artillery battalion (the 17th, 8 inch) and at corps level, there
were only three battalions (the 92d, 96th, and 999th with self-propelled or tractor-pulled 155s). By tables of
organization and equipment (TO&E), the seven American divisions were supposed to have the normal
complement of four artillery battalions each, but five of these 28 battalions had been practically destroyed
at Kunu and the Chosin Reservoir.

Ridgway realized that no one would blame Eighth Army for this appalling situation. As Clay Blair
writes, “Part of it was due to Truman’s post-war military economy program; in part to the earlier
decisions to fight in Korea with limited forces; in part to the repeated, disgraceful loss of artillery to the
enemy; in part to the near impossibility of rapidly organizing, manning, and training American artillery
units from scratch.” That said, Ridgway called a conference of all of his senior artillery commanders in

L411RA-24

Eighth Army and notified them that he wanted immediate and dramatic improvement in the employment
of the available artillery.

Prior to coming to take command of Eighth Army, Ridgway as the Army “G3” had ordered 10
recently activated National Guard and Army reserve artillery battalions to prepare for duty in the Far East.
The plan had been to send these units to Japan for more intense training but Ridgway notified Collins that
he needed the 10 battalions as soon as possible and their destination was changed to South Korea. Five of
the battalions arrived in January with the other five arriving between February and May.

In one of his initial meetings with the senior commanders of Eighth Army, Ridgway issued some very
specific oral instructions:

All division commanders were to get out of their command posts and spend much more time on the front
lines at battalion level or lower in order to “get to know” their subordinate commanders, the terrain, and
the situation intimately. Corps and division staff officers would do likewise and henceforth prepare more
precise firsthand and “honest” reports with “hard facts” and devoid of “hearsay and speculation.”
Selected units would commence strong and aggressive reconnaissance and patrol actions to establish
contact with the CCF and keep it with “a bulldog grip.” When the opportunity arose, units would attack
for the purpose of disrupting CCF assemblies for attacks. Units would get off the road, take the high
ground, and button-up securely for the night. If the CCF succeeded in making nighttime penetrations,
commanders were “promptly and definitely to eliminate them with armor and infantry teams after
daylight, leaving no enclaves of enemy in the rear.” All commanders will immediately start intensive
training in night fighting and marches. Men reared in rural areas should be designated to teach those from
urban areas how to navigate over terrain without light. All engaged units will make greater use of
available firepower. Ridgway had evidence that infantry units were not using more than one-third of their
available firepower. He did not want any commander asking for help until he could prove that he was
using every weapon he had every rifle, machine gun, howitzer, anti-aircraft gun, and tank.
All commanders would make immediate efforts to provide the men in their units with the following: cold-
weather clothing; at least two hot meals a day, three if practicable; small potbelly stoves and warming
tents; writing paper. When sufficient fur caps were available, the cold, drafty steel helmets were to be
stored until the spring.

Commanders would visit the wounded and non-battle casualties in hospitals in an effort to instill a
desire in the men to return to their original units, if capable. “A man already trained was worth several
times a raw replacement.” Commanders should decrease the “seemingly wholesale issues” of medals and
awards. The practice, rampant throughout Eighth Army, demeaned and trivialized the decorations. Where
appropriate, there should be a greater emphasis on awarding the Medal of Honor to the living rather than
the dead. Commanders would employ allied units to provide “better utilization” of their specific talents.
For example, British and Commonwealth units should be used on defense rather than offense; the Turks
on offense rather than defense. No one, under any circumstances, was to abandon “precious equipment.”
Any equipment, Ridgway stressed, had to “come from nine thousand miles away.” It was expensive. He
warned that any man who “lost or threw away or needlessly damaged any piece of equipment or property
was going to be court-martialed.”

At the conclusion of his whirlwind tour of units and commanders, Ridgway returned to his Eighth
Army advance CP in Seoul to make the final preparations for the impending CCF offensive, which he still
expected on New Year’s Eve. He was not certain that his initial “exhortation” of his commanders and
men had had the intended dramatic impact that he had hoped, but word of what he had done in his first
five days of command had reached the UN commander in Tokyo. MacArthur sent Ridgway a note
acknowledging the new commander’s efforts: “[I] cannot tell you how delighted I am at the energy and
effectiveness with which you have taken hold [of Eighth Army].”

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In just a few short exhausting days, Ridgway had begun the process of turning around a defeated
multinational force. He knew defeating the enemy meant inflicting maximum Chinese casualties with
superior American firepower. Ridgway knew he must turn the Korean War into a war of attrition. He
must revise the tactics in use, ordering road-bound American units to seize the high ground prior to any
advance. He would also rearrange unit positions in the defense so that they could support one another
with firepower, making it that much more difficult for the CCF to penetrate UN lines and positions. One
of most important changes was to ensure that there were closer communications between the Eighth
Army staff and subordinate units. To achieve this, he maintained a forward command post co-located
with one of his corps headquarters. He moved staff officers at all levels from the rear areas to the front so
they would be closer to the battlefield where they could better grasp the situation. He also stressed good
liaisons with and publicity for all UN forces, not just America units. This also entailed stressing
awareness of the cultural differences that existed within the units that made up the Eighth Army. He
modified standard U.S. Army logistics to meet a wide variety of needs for each nationality and made
numerous dietary changes to improve morale in the non-U.S. contingents. For example, French and Dutch
units did not like American white bread, Filipinos wanted Philippine rice, the Thai wanted Siamese rice,
and the Turks got fresh fruit and spinach instead of sweet potatoes, lima beans, and corn, while the
Greeks insisted on receiving olive oil from Greece, not the United States.

In spite of the dismal military situation, Ridgway remained in a positive and constructive mindset.
After being in command for less than four days, he wrote his wife, “have complete confidence in ultimate
success of this magnificent team here though some hard times are inevitable.”

On Sunday, December 31st Ridgway notified his chief of staff that he was flying to his advanced CP
near Seoul and would remain there expecting the Chinese attack later that night. After visiting with the
staffs of the I and IX Corps, he spent two hours visiting Eighth Army defensive positions and talking to
unit commanders. One visit is noteworthy of mention:

In the zone of the British Commonwealth Brigade, I came upon one magnificent young British
lieutenant, out with a working party, preparing a ridge-line defensive position. He met me with a
flourishing salute and a cheerful smile. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help him.
He said there was not a thing. ‘You think everything’s all right up here?’ I asked. ‘Splendid, sir,’
he said. Then as an afterthought: ‘It is a bit drafty, though.’ He was right. It was drafty up there.
He had a thousand yards to cover with a handful of men. But it couldn’t be helped. Every other
unit along that line was spread as thinly.

Two hours later, just after it became dark, the CCF crossed the 38th parallel and invaded South Korea.
As Ridgway and his staff had anticipated, their main effort was against the western front, down the two
roads leading to Seoul.

L411RB-26

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading B
ADP 6-0 Chapter 2 Excerpt

Author: US Army

When you are commanding, leading [soldiers] under conditions where physical exhaustion and
privations must be ignored, where the lives of [soldiers] may be sacrificed, then, the efficiency of your
leadership will depend only to a minor degree on your tactical ability. It will primarily be determined
by your character, your reputation, not much for courage—which will be accepted as a matter of
course—but by the previous reputation you have established for fairness, for that high minded
patriotic purpose, that quality of unswerving determination to carry through any military task
assigned to you.

General of the Army George C. Marshall Speaking to officer candidates in
September 1941

This chapter begins with a discussion of the nature and elements of command. It then describes the role of
the commander in operations. The chapter concludes with a discussion of guides to effective command.

NATURE OF COMMAND

Command is the authority that a commander in the armed forces lawfully exercises over subordinates by
virtue of rank or assignment. Command includes the authority and responsibility for effectively using
available resources and for planning the employment of, organizing, directing, coordinating, and
controlling military forces for the accomplishment of missions. It also includes responsibility for health,
welfare, morale, and discipline of assigned personnel.

Command is personal. In Army regulations and doctrine, an individual is given the authority to command,
not an institution or group. The legal and ethical responsibilities of a commander exceed those of any
other leader of similar rank who is serving in a staff position. The commander alone is responsible for
what the command does or fails to do.

Command is more art than science because it requires judgment and depends on actions only human
beings can perform. The art of command comprises the creative and skillful exercise of authority through
timely decision making and leadership. Commanders constantly use judgment gained from experience
and training to delegate authority, make decisions, determine the appropriate degree of control, and
allocate resources. Proficiency in the art of command stems from years of schooling, self-development,
introspection, and operational and training experiences. It also requires a deep understanding of the
science of war.

The basic techniques of command do not change between echelons. However, direct leadership within a
command decreases as the level of command increases, and applying organizational leadership as
described in ADP 6-22 becomes more relevant. Officers prepare for higher command by developing and
exercising their skills when commanding at lower levels.

Go to Table of Contents

L411RB-27

ELEMENTS OF COMMAND

The elements of command are authority, responsibility, decision making, and leadership. The definition
of command refers explicitly to authority. With authority comes the responsibility to carry forward an
assigned task to a successful conclusion. Commanders exercise their authority by making decisions and
leading their command in implementation of those decisions. Successful commanders develop skill in
each element through maturity, experience, and education.

AUTHORITY

Authority is the right and power to judge, act, or command. Legal authority to enforce orders under the
law is a key aspect of command and distinguishes military commanders from staff officers, and civilian
leaders. Commanders understand that operations affect and are affected by human interactions. As such,
they seek to establish personal authority. A commander’s personal authority reinforces that commander’s
legal authority. Personal authority ultimately arises from the actions of commanders and the resulting
trust and confidence generated by these actions. Commanders earn respect and trust by upholding laws,
adhering to the Army ethic, applying Army leadership principles, and demonstrating tactical and technical
expertise.

Assuming Command: General Ridgway Takes Eighth Army

After secretly crossing the Yalu River in mid-October 1950, the Chinese 13th Army Group launched its
first offensive against United Nations forces on 25 October. By the end of November, the 13th Army Group
had pushed most of the Eighth U.S. Army out of northwest Korea. By mid-December, the Eighth Army had
retreated south of the 38th Parallel. To add to the United Nations forces’ troubles, the Eighth Army
commander, GEN Walton Walker, was killed in a jeep accident on 23 December.

Back in Virginia while visiting friends before Christmas, then Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, GEN
Matthew Ridgway, recalls the phone call he received from the Army Chief of Staff, GEN Joe Collins.
“Matt, “he said, “I’m sorry to tell you that Johnny Walker has been killed in a jeep accident in Korea. I
want you to get your things together and get out there just as soon as you can.”

In his book, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway, GEN Ridgway describes his initial thoughts
on assuming command of the Eighth Army:

Quickly I ran over in my mind all that I knew of the situation. As Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, the
map of Korea had become as familiar to me as the lines in my hand. I knew our strength, and our weakness.
I knew personally all the top commanders in Eighth Army, except General Oliver Smith of the 1st Marine
Division, and from what I knew of him, I knew I could depend on him implicitly.

Armed with this background knowledge, what should I do? Quickly, a pattern of action took place in my
mind. First, of course, I would report to General MacArthur, and receive from him his estimate of the
situation and broad general directives concerning operations. Next, I would assume command—and this, I
knew, must be done in one simple, brief, sincere statement which would convey to Eighth Army my
supreme confidence that it could turn and face and fight and defeat the Chinese horde that had sprung so
suddenly from beyond the Yalu. Once this was done, I would meet with Eighth Army staff and get from
them their appraisal of the situation. After that, I would call on every commander in his battle area, look
into his face and the faces of his men, and form my own opinion of his firmness and resolution—or the lack
thereof. Once these things were done, then I could begin to plan, could make the big decision whether to
stand and hold, or to attack.”

L411RB-28

Under GEN Ridgway’s leadership, the Chinese offensive was slowed and finally brought to a halt at the
battles of Chipyong-ni and Wonju. He then led his troops in Operation Thunderbolt, a counter-offensive in
early 1951.
Commanders may delegate authority to subordinates to accomplish a mission or assist in fulfilling their
responsibilities. This includes delegating authority to members of their staffs. Delegation allows
subordinates to decide and act for their commander, or in their commander’s name, in specified areas.
When delegating authority, commanders still remain accountable to their superiors for mission
accomplishment, for the lives and care of their Soldiers, and for effectively using Army resources.
Therefore, commanders use judgment in determining how much authority to delegate.

RESPONSIBILITY

Commanders are legally and ethically accountable for the decisions they make or do not make, and for the
actions, accomplishments, and failures of their subordinates. Commanders may delegate authority, but
they still retain overall accountability for the actions of their commands.

Command responsibilities include mission accomplishment; the health, welfare, morale, and discipline of
Soldiers; and the use and maintenance of resources. In most cases, these responsibilities do not conflict;
however, the responsibility for mission accomplishment sometimes conflicts with the responsibility for
Soldiers or the stewardship of resources. The importance of the mission informs commanders how much
risk to Soldiers and equipment to accept. When there is conflict among the three, mission accomplishment
comes before Soldiers, and Soldiers come before concerns for resources. Commanders try to keep such
conflicts to an absolute minimum.

DECISION MAKING

The commander must permit freedom of action to his subordinates insofar that this does not endanger the
whole scheme. He must not surrender to them those decisions for which he alone is responsible.
German Field Service Regulation, Truppen Fuhrung (1935)

Decision making involves applying both the art and science of war. Many aspects of military
operations—movement rates, fuels consumption, weapons effects—can be reduced to numbers,
calculations, and tables. They belong to the science of war and are important to understanding what is
possible with the resources available. Other aspects—the impact of leadership, complexity of operations,
and uncertainty about the enemy—belong to the art of war. Successful commanders focus the most
attention on those aspects belonging to the art of war.

For Army forces, decision making focuses on selecting a course of action that is most favorable to
accomplishing the mission. Decision making can be deliberate, using the military decision-making
process and a full staff, or decision making can be done very quickly by the commander alone. A
commander’s decisions ultimately guide the actions of the force.

Decision making requires knowing if, when, and what to decide as well as understanding the
consequences of that decision. Critical to decision making is the ability to make decisions without perfect
information, knowing when enough information allows acceptable decisions, and the willingness to act on
imperfect information. Striking the balance between acting now with imperfect information and acting
later with better information is essential to the art of command.

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Understanding

Success in operations demands timely and effective decisions based on applying judgment to available
information and knowledge. As such, commanders and staffs seek to build and maintain situational
understanding throughout an operation. Situational understanding is the product of applying analysis
and judgment to relevant information to determine the relationships among the operational and
mission variables. Situational understanding allows commanders to make effective decisions and
regulate the actions of their force with plans appropriate for the situation. It enables commanders and
staffs to assess operations accurately. Commanders and staffs continually strive to maintain their
situational understanding and work through periods of reduced understanding as a situation evolves.
Effective commanders accept that uncertainty can never be eliminated, and they train their staffs and
subordinates to function in uncertain environments.

Knowledge management and information management assist commanders with progressively adding
meaning at each level of processing and analyzing to help build and maintain their situational
understanding. Knowledge management and information management are interrelated activities that
support commanders’ decision making. There are four levels of meaning. From the lowest level to the
highest level, they include data, information, knowledge, and understanding. At the lowest level,
processing transforms data into information. Analysis then refines information into knowledge.
Commanders and staffs then apply judgment to transform knowledge into understanding. Commanders
and staffs continue a progressive development of learning, as organizations and individuals assign
meaning and value at each level. (See figure 2-1.)

Figure 2-1. Achieving understanding

In the context of decision making, data consists of unprocessed observations detected by a collector
of any kind (human, mechanical, or electronic). In typical organizations, data often flows to command
posts from subordinate units. Subordinate units push data to inform higher headquarters of events that
facilitate situational understanding. Data can be quantified, stored, and organized in files and databases;
however, data only becomes useful when processed into information.

In the context of decision making, information is data that has been organized and processed in
order to provide context for further analysis. The amount of information that is available makes
managing information and using it to make effective decisions critical to success during operations.
Commanders and staffs apply experience and judgment to information to gain shared understanding of
events and conditions in which they make decisions during operations. Effective command and control
requires further developing information into knowledge so commanders can achieve understanding

In the context of decision making, knowledge is information that has been analyzed and evaluated
for operational implications. It is also comprehension gained through study, experience, practice, and
human interaction that provides the basis for expertise and skilled judgment. Staffs work to improve and
share tacit and explicit knowledge.

Tacit knowledge resides in an individual’s mind. It is the purview of individuals, not technology. All
individuals have a unique, personal store of knowledge gained from experience, training, and other
people. This knowledge includes an appreciation for nuances, subtleties, and work-arounds. Intuition,

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mental agility, effective responses to crises, and the ability to adapt are forms of tacit knowledge. Leaders
use tacit knowledge, their own and that of their subordinates, to solve complex problems and make
decisions.

Explicit knowledge consists of information that can be organized, applied, and transferred using digital
(such as computer files) or non-digital (such as paper) means. Explicit knowledge lends itself to rules,
limits, and precise meanings. Examples of explicit knowledge include doctrinal publications, orders, and
databases. Explicit knowledge is primarily used to support situational awareness and shared
understanding as it applies to decision making.

In the context of decision making, understanding is knowledge that has been synthesized and had
judgment applied to comprehend the situation’s inner relationships, enable decision making, and
drive action. Understanding is judgment applied to knowledge in the context of a particular situation.
Understanding is knowing enough about the situation to change it by applying action. Judgment is based
on experience, expertise, and intuition. Ideally, true understanding should be the basis for decisions.
However, uncertainty and time preclude achieving perfect understanding before deciding and acting. (See
chapter 3 for more information on knowledge management and information management.)

Critical and Creative Thinking

Commanders and staffs apply critical and creative thinking, including ethical reasoning, to decision
making. Critical thinking examines a problem in depth from multiple points of view. It determines
whether adequate justification exists to accept conclusions as true based on a given inference or argument.
Critical thinkers apply judgment about what to believe or what to do in response to facts, experience, or
arguments.

Creative thinking involves thinking in new, innovative ways using imagination, insight, and different
ideas. Leaders often face unfamiliar problems or old problems requiring new solutions. Even situations
that appear familiar require creative solutions, since an enemy force will adapt to past friendly
approaches. Leaders look at different options to solve problems using lessons from similar circumstances
in the past, as well as innovative approaches that come from new ideas. Creatively combining old and
new ideas can create difficult dilemmas for an enemy force.

Commanders choose a decision-making approach based on the situation. There are generally two
approaches to making decisions: analytic and intuitive. In certain situations, commanders may take a
more deliberate approach, using systematic analysis. In other situations, commanders may rely heavily on
intuition. Effective commanders consider their experience, their staff’s experience, and the time and
information available when considering their decision-making approach.

Analytic Decision Making

Analytic decision making generates several alternative solutions, compares those solutions to a set of
criteria, and selects the best course of action. It aims to produce the optimal solution by comparing
options. It emphasizes analytic reasoning guided by experience, and commanders use it when time is
available. This approach offers several advantages. Analytic decision making—
Is methodical and allows the breakdown of tasks into recognizable elements.
Ensures commanders consider, analyze, and evaluate relevant factors and employ techniques such as war-
gaming.
Provides a systematic approach when a decision involves processing large amounts of information.
Helps resolve conflicts among courses of action.
Gives inexperienced personnel a logically structured approach.

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Analytic decision making presents some disadvantages. It is often time-consuming, relies on large
amounts of information, and requires clearly established evaluation criteria. While it is methodical,
changes in conditions may require a complete reevaluation, which could delay decisions. When using this
approach, commanders weigh the need for analysis against time considerations. Analytic decision making
is not appropriate for all situations, especially during execution, when forces must adapt to rapidly
changing situations. (An example of analytic decision making is the military decision-making process
found in FM 6-0.)

Intuitive Decision Making

Intuition depends on the use of experience to recognize key patterns that indicate the dynamics of the
situation. Because patterns can be subtle, people often cannot describe what they noticed, or how they
judged a situation as typical or atypical.

Gary Klein, Sources of Power

Intuitive decision making is reaching a conclusion in a way that is not expressly known by the decision
maker. It normally involves pattern recognition based on knowledge, judgment, experience, education,
intelligence, boldness, perception, and character. Intuitive decision making—
Focuses on assessment of the situation more than on comparing multiple options.
Usually results in a decision for an acceptable course of action instead of the optimal course of action
derived from an analytical approach.
May be more effective when time is short.
Relies on a commander’s experience and ability to recognize the key elements and implications of a
particular problem or situation.
Tends to focus on the larger picture more than on individual components.

Intuitive decision making is faster than analytic decision making, but it requires an adequate level of
experience to recognize an acceptable course of action. There is a difference between sound intuition and
uninformed assumptions. When using intuitive decision making, leaders should be aware of their own
biases and the differences between their current operational environment and those they experienced in
the past.

By emphasizing experienced judgment over deliberate analysis, commanders increase tempo and retain
flexibility to deal with uncertainty. The intuitive approach is consistent with the fact that there are no
perfect solutions to battlefield problems. Even when making intuitive decisions, commanders may have
time available to employ more analytic techniques. Time permitting, commanders use their staffs to
validate intuitive decisions to ensure they are feasible, acceptable, and suitable.

In practice, the two approaches are rarely mutually exclusive. When time is not critical, commanders use
an analytical approach or incorporate analysis into their intuitive decisions. Commanders blend intuitive
and analytic decision making to help them remain objective and make timely, effective decisions.
Commanders avoid making decisions purely by intuition and incorporate analysis into their intuitive
decisions. Commanders seek as much analysis as possible within the time available. In situations
requiring immediate decisions, this analysis may be no more than the commander’s own rapid mental
development, analysis, and selection of a course of action—which may appear completely intuitive.
Combining both approaches best accounts for the many factors that affect decisions. An example of an
approach that combines analytic and intuitive decision making is the rapid decision-making and
synchronization process found in FM 6-0.

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Judgment

Despite the years of thought and oceans of ink which have been devoted to the elucidation of war its
secrets still remain shrouded in mystery….War is an art and as such is not susceptible of explanation
by fixed formulae. Yet from the earliest time there has been an unending effort to subject its complex
and emotional structure to dissection, to enunciate rules for its waging, to make tangible its
intangibility.

General George S. Patton, Jr.

Commanders make decisions using judgment acquired from experience, training, and study. Experience
contributes to judgment by providing a basis for rapidly identifying practical courses of actions and
dismissing impractical ones. Commanders use judgment to assess information, situations, or
circumstances shrewdly and draw feasible conclusions. Skilled judgment helps commanders form sound
opinions and make sensible decisions.

Judgment is required for selecting the critical time and place to act. Commanders act by assigning
missions, prioritizing, managing risk, allocating resources, and leading. Thorough knowledge of the
science of war, a strong ethical sense, and an understanding of enemy and friendly capabilities form the
basis of the judgment commanders require.

Judgment becomes more refined as commanders become more experienced. Increasing their knowledge,
developing their intellect, and gaining experience allow commanders to develop the greater judgment
required for increased responsibilities. In addition to decision-making, commanders apply their judgment
to—
Identify, accept, and mitigate risk.
Delegate authority.
Prioritize resources.
Direct the staff.

Identify, Mitigate, and Accept Risk

Commanders use judgment when identifying risk by deciding how much risk to accept, mitigating risk
where possible, and managing the risk they must accept. They accept risk when seizing opportunities.
They reduce risk with foresight and planning, while regularly examining any assumptions associated with
previous risk-related decisions.

Consideration of risk begins during planning as commanders and staffs assess risk, including ethical risk,
for each course of action and propose control measures. They collaborate and integrate input from
subordinates, staff, and unified action partners. They determine how to mitigate identified risks. This
includes delegating management of certain risks to subordinate commanders who in turn develop
appropriate mitigation measures. Commanders then allocate the resources they deem appropriate to
mitigate risks.

Commanders must continuously assess how risk may be accumulating over time as operations progress,
both at their own echelon as well as for their subordinates. Changes in the nature of an operation, the
number and types of tasks assigned, available combat power, or changes in the threat may all change the
level of risk subordinates must mitigate and accept. A series of discrete decisions about seemingly
unrelated issues can, over time, potentially change the level of risk in ways that are not readily apparent to
a commander. However, this cumulative risk may be understood by one or more subordinates directly
impacted by changing conditions or new decisions. It is therefore critical that commanders clearly

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communicate risk concerns to higher and lower echelons to ensure shared understanding and informed
decision making.

Assumptions initially made during planning may change or compound over time, raising the level of risk.
Risks that were acceptable in one context and based on one set of assumptions may be untenable when the
context of the operation changes. In some instances, the situation may change to the point that a
commander needs to take action to adjust the level of risk subordinate commanders are required to take
when the perceived benefit no longer outweighs the likely cost. For example, a unit performing in an
economy of force role with a particular task organization may be directed to detach additional units to
support other efforts to the point where it can no longer effectively accomplish its mission. The higher
level commander is unlikely to have sufficient situational awareness to understand precisely when the
threshold of acceptable risk for mission accomplishment has been crossed without a continuous dialogue
with that subordinate commander. It is as much the responsibility of the subordinate to keep higher
echelons informed as it is the responsibility of the higher level commander to seek risk analysis from the
subordinate.

Inculcating risk acceptance goes hand in hand with creating an environment where subordinates are not
only encouraged to take risks, but also one where mistakes are tolerated. Commanders realize that
subordinates may not accomplish all tasks initially and that errors may occur. Commanders train
subordinates to act within the commander’s intent in uncertain situations. Commanders give subordinates
the latitude to make mistakes and learn.

During training, commanders might allow subordinates to execute an excessively risky tactical decision,
keeping the safety of Soldiers in mind, as a teaching point. They then instruct subordinates afterward on
how to determine a more appropriate level of tactical risk. This sort of coaching helps commanders gain
trust in their subordinates’ judgment and initiative, and it builds subordinates’ trust in their commander.
During operations, commanders may need to intervene when a subordinate accepts tactical risk that
exceeds the benefits expected.

Risk Acceptance: OPERATION HAWTHORN, Dak To, Vietnam

At 0230, 7 June 1966, a battalion of the 24th NVA (North Vietnamese Army) Regiment attacked an artillery
firebase manned by elements of 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, beginning the battle of Dak To.
While the forces at the firebase defeated this attack, two battalions of the 101st Airborne were lifted in by
helicopters to envelop the 24th NVA Regiment in the Dak To area. One battalion, 1/327th, attacked north
up Dak Tan Kan valley, while the other, 2/502d, attacked toward the south. The 1/327th encountered the
NVA first and fixed them. The 2/502d established a blocking position initially but then began a sweep south
to link up with 1/327th.

The 2/502d used its famous “checkerboard” technique in its advance, breaking down into small units, with
squad-size patrols searching designated areas into which the battalion had divided its area of operations.
This technique covered ground, but the squads were too weak to face stiff opposition. Company
commanders had to assess indicators, decide when they indicated the presence of heavy enemy forces, and
assemble their companies for action. As C Company advanced on 12 June, its commander, CPT William
Carpenter Jr., sensed those indicators and concentrated his company, but it was surrounded and in danger
of being overrun by an estimated NVA battalion. As he spoke to his battalion commander, LTC Hank
Emerson (“the Gunfighter”), the sounds of the screaming, charging enemy could be heard over the radio.
CPT Carpenter reportedly called for an air strike “right on top of us.” The only air support available was
armed with napalm; when it hit, it broke the enemy attack and saved the company. A day later, another
company linked up with C Company, and they continued the mission. The battle of Dak To was a staggering

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defeat for the NVA. CPT Carpenter’s action can be considered a necessary risk. The survival of his force
was at stake. The NVA would have destroyed C Company before another company could relieve it.

CPT Carpenter later stated privately that he realized the survival of his company was at stake, but that he
did not actually call the air strike directly in on his position. Instead, he told the forward air controller to
use the smoke marking his company’s position as the aiming point for the air strike. He knew that using
conventional air strike techniques and safe distances would not defeat the enemy. He also reasoned that the
napalm would “splash” forward of his position, causing more enemy than friendly casualties. The air strike
did just that. Thus, CPT Carpenter exercised judgment based on experience. CPT Carpenter believed he
was taking a high risk from the standpoint of troop safety. But he accepted that risk, made a decision, and
acted. His actions saved his company and contributed to a major NVA defeat. CPT Carpenter and his first
sergeant, 1SG Walter Sabaulaski, received the Distinguished Service Cross for their heroism.

Delegate Authority

If it is necessary for a commander to interfere constantly with a subordinate, one or the
other should be relieved.

Field Marshal Richard Michael Carver

Commanders use judgment to determine how much authority to delegate to subordinates and how much
they are able to decentralize execution. Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their personal
oversight of delegated tasks based on their assessment of the skill and experience of their subordinates.
When delegating authority to subordinates, commanders do everything to ensure subordinates can
accomplish their missions. Resources include people, units, services, supplies, equipment, networks,
information, and time. Commanders allocate resources through task organization and established
priorities of support.

Under the mission command approach, delegated authority is proportional to the extent of commanders’
trust in the abilities of their subordinates. Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their
personal involvement in delegated tasks based on their assessment of the competence and experience of
their subordinates. Ideally, once commanders delegate authority, they supervise to the minimum level
required to ensure subordinates’ and mission success.

Commanders delegate authority verbally, in writing through plans, orders, or standard operating
procedures, or by both methods. Examples of delegated authority are authority over an area of expertise or
technical specialty, a geographic area, or specific kinds of actions. Commanders may limit delegated
authority in time, or they may use an enduring approach. Commanders should ensure members of the
command, especially the staff and subordinate commanders, understand to whom and what authorities have
been delegated. Delegation not only applies to subordinate commanders but also to members of the staff.

Prioritize Resources

Commanders allocate resources to accomplish the mission. Allocating resources requires judgment
because resources can be limited. Considerations for prioritizing resources include how to—
Effectively accomplish the mission.
Protect the lives of Soldiers.
Apply the principles of mass and economy of force.
Posture their force for subsequent operations.

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The primary consideration for allocating resources is how their use contributes to effective mission
accomplishment. Commanders do not determine how to accomplish a mission based on conserving
resources or giving all subordinates an equal share; they allocate resources efficiently to ensure
effectiveness. The objective—to accomplish the mission—guides every element of operations. A plan that
does not accomplish the mission, regardless of how well it conserves resources, is not effective.

The next priority is to protect the lives of Soldiers. Commanders determine how to protect the lives of
Soldiers before considering how to conserve material resources. They use material resources generously
to save lives. If there are different but equally effective ways to accomplish the mission, a commander
considers ways which use fewer resources.

The third aspect of resource allocation is based on two of the principles of war—mass and economy of
force. The principle of mass means that commanders always weight the main effort with the greatest
possible combat power to overwhelm an enemy force and ensure mission accomplishment. Economy of
force refers to allocating the minimum essential combat power to all supporting efforts. Supporting efforts
typically receive fewer resources than the main effort. Commanders must accept risk in supporting efforts
in order to weight the main effort.

Commanders determine the amount of combat power essential to each task and allocate sufficient
resources to accomplish it. When allocating resources, commanders consider the cost to the force and the
effects of the current operation on the ability to execute follow-on operations. If subordinates believe they
have not received adequate resources, or believe accomplishing their mission would produce an
unacceptable cost to the force, they inform their commander. The commander then decides whether to
accept risk, allocate more resources, or change the plan.

The fourth aspect of applying judgment to resource allocation concerns posturing the force for subsequent
operations. Commanders balance immediate mission accomplishment with resource requirements for
subsequent operations. Commanders accomplish their missions at the least cost to the force, so they do
not impair its ability to conduct follow-on operations. They visualize short-term and long-term effects of
their resource use and determine priorities. At lower echelons, commanders focus more on the immediate
operation—the short term. At progressively higher echelons, commanders give more consideration to
long-term operations.

Direct the Staff

Commanders rely on and expect initiative from the staff as much as from subordinate commanders.
Delegating authority allows commanders to use their time for the more creative aspects of command (the
art). Commanders delegate authority and set the level of their personal involvement in staff activities
based on their assessment of the skill and experience of their subordinates. This assessment requires
skilled judgment.

Within their headquarters, commanders exercise their judgment to determine when to intervene and
participate personally in staff operations, as opposed to letting their staffs operate on their own based on
guidance. Commanders cannot do everything themselves or make every decision; such participation does
not give staffs the experience mission command requires. However, commanders cannot simply approve
staff products produced without their input. Commanders participate in staff work where it is necessary to
guide their staffs. They use their situational understanding and commander’s visualization to provide
guidance from which their staffs produce plans and orders. In deciding when and where to interact with
subordinates, the key is for commanders to determine where they can best use their limited time to
greatest effect—where their personal intervention will pay the greatest dividend.

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LEADERSHIP

As each man’s strengths gives out, as it no longer responds to his will, the inertia of the whole gradually
comes to rest on the commander’s will alone. The ardor of his spirit must rekindle the flame of purpose
in all others; his inward fire must revive their hope.

Carl von Clausewitz

Leadership is the activity of influencing people by providing purpose, direction, and motivation to
accomplish the mission and improve the organization (ADP 6-22). Leadership involves taking
responsibility for decisions, being loyal to subordinates, inspiring and directing assigned forces and
resources toward a purposeful end, establishing a team climate that engenders success, demonstrating
moral and physical courage in the face of adversity, and providing the vision that both focuses and
anticipates the future course of events. Leadership requires the attributes and competencies that describe
what leaders are expected to be. (See ADP 6-22 for more information on Army leadership.)

Professional competence, personality, and the will of strong commanders represent a significant part of
any unit’s combat power. While leadership requirements differ with unit size and type, all leaders must
demonstrate character and ethical standards. Leaders must know and understand their subordinates. They
must act with courage and conviction in battle. Leaders build trust and teamwork. During operations they
know where to be to make decisions or to influence the action by their personal presence.

Commanders recognize that military operations take a toll on the moral, physical, and mental stamina of
the people making up their formations. They understand that experience, interpersonal relationships, and
the environment influence the people conducting operations. Leaders account for these factors when
motivating people to accomplish tasks in the face of danger and hardship. Setting a good personal
example is critical to effective leadership.

Commanders are both leaders and followers. Being a responsible subordinate is part of being a good
leader. Responsible subordinates support the chain of command and ensure their command supports the
larger organization and its purpose. Successful commanders recognize the responsibilities they and their
subordinates have to the next higher echelon and the larger formation overall.

Commanders know the status of their forces. Command sergeants major, first sergeants, and platoon
sergeants play vital roles in providing commanders awareness about the morale and physical condition of
their Soldiers. Commanders need to know when circumstances may prevent friendly forces from
performing to their full potential. For example, a subordinate unit may have recently received
inexperienced replacements, may have lost cohesion due to leader casualties, or may be extremely
fatigued due to an extended period of operations.

Commanders press the fight tenaciously and aggressively. They accept risks and push Soldiers to the
limits of their endurance for as long as possible to retain the operational initiative. They act aggressively
to exploit fleeting opportunities. Effective commanders recognize when to push Soldiers to their limits
and when to let them rest to prevent individual and collective collapse. Even the most successful combat
actions can render units incapable of further operations.

Leadership is an important component of mitigating the effects of stress. Stress is an integral part of
military service in general and in combat operations in particular. Leaders must learn to mitigate stress for
their subordinates and cope with it themselves. (See ATP 6-22.5 for more information on combat and
operational stress control). Two aspects of leadership that are unique to command are command presence
and the location of the commander.

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Command Presence

Command presence is the influence commanders have on those around them through their personal
demeanor, appearance, and conduct. It requires contact with others, both physically and through voice
command and control systems. Commanders use their presence to gather and share information and
assess operations through personal interaction with subordinates. Establishing command presence makes
the commander’s knowledge and experience available to subordinates and provides encouragement. It
allows commanders to assess intangibles like morale, and provide direct feedback on subordinate
performance. Commanders employing the mission command approach ask questions without second-
guessing their subordinate’s performance unless absolutely necessary. Skilled commanders communicate
tactical and technical knowledge that goes beyond plans and procedures. Command presence establishes a
background for all plans and procedures so that subordinates can understand how and when to adapt them
to achieve the commander’s intent. Commanders can establish command presence in a variety of ways,
including—
Being seen and heard.
Sharing risk and hardship.
Setting a good personal example.
Ensuring their commander’s intent is widely understood.
Providing clear face-to-face commander’s guidance.
Backbriefs and rehearsals.

Directly engaging subordinates and staffs allows commanders to motivate, build trust and confidence,
exchange information, and assess the human aspects of operations. It allows commanders to assess the
morale and stamina of subordinate units. Commanders use their presence to overcome uncertainty and
chaos and maintain the focus of their forces. They communicate in a variety of ways, adjusting their
communication style to fit the situation and the audience. They communicate both formally and
informally, through questions, discussions, conversations, and other direct or indirect communication.
Commanders position themselves where they can best command without losing the ability to respond to
changing situations.

Location of the Commander

One of the most valuable qualities of a commander is a flair for putting himself in the right place at
the vital time.

Field Marshal Sir William Slim

Commanders command from their personal location. One of the fundamental dilemmas facing all
commanders is where to position themselves during operations. As far as conditions allow, commanders
should be forward where they can be seen and heard to best influence the decisive operation or main
effort. Commanding forward allows commanders to assess the state of operations face to face with their
subordinates and achieve shared understanding. It allows them to gather as much information as possible
about actual combat conditions when making decisions. However, commanding forward does not mean
taking over a subordinate’s responsibilities.

Commanders consider their position in relation to the forces they command and the mission. Their
location can have important consequences, not only for the command but also for executing operations.
The command and control system helps commanders position themselves forward without losing access
to the information and analysis available from their command posts.

At the lowest levels, commanders lead by personal example, acquire much information themselves,
decide personally, and communicate face to face with those they direct. Typically, they position

L411RB-38

themselves well forward to directly influence the decisive operation. However, even at these levels,
commanders cannot always command their whole unit directly.
In larger tactical- and operational-level commands, command posts are normally the focus of information
flow and planning. However, commanders cannot always visualize the battlefield to direct and
synchronize operations from command posts. Commanders often assess the situation up front, face to face
with subordinate commanders and their units. Commanders employ their command and control system so
they can position themselves wherever they can best command without losing the situational
understanding that enables them respond to opportunities and changing circumstances. The command and
control system allows commanders to obtain the information they need to assess operations and risks, and
make necessary adjustments, from anywhere in an area of operations.

Commanders realize that they might not always be where the critical action is occurring. This probability
reinforces the necessity of training subordinates to operate using the mission command approach.
Commanders can then rely on subordinates to restore or exploit the situation without their presence or
personal intervention.

Where a commander is located can bring the leadership element of combat power directly to an operation,
especially when that location allows for personal presence and the ability to directly observe events and
see things that might not be conveyed by the command and control system. Being physically present can
allow a commander to assess a much broader set of indicators of the unit’s condition. Commanders gain
firsthand appreciation for the human aspects of a situation that can rarely be gained any other way.
Equally important, commanders can actually see terrain and weather conditions which might not be
clearly explained by maps or whether reports. They can avoid the delays and distortions that occur as
information travels down and up the chain of command. Finally, by their presence, commanders direct
emphasis to critical spots and focus efforts on them. Some of the factors that influence a commander’s
location include—
The need to understand the situation.
The need to make decisions.
The need to communicate.
The need to motivate subordinates.

The commander’s forward presence demonstrates a willingness to share danger and hardship. It also
allows commanders to appraise for themselves a subordinate unit’s condition, including its leaders’ and
Soldiers’ morale. Forward presence allows commanders to sense the human aspects of conflict,
particularly when fear and fatigue reduce effectiveness.

Commanders cannot let the perceived advantages of improved information technology compromise their
obligation to personally lead by example. Face-to-face discussions and forward presence allow
commanders to see things that may not be conveyed by the command and control system.

L411RC-39

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L411: Transition to Command

L411: Reading C
ADP 5-0 Chapter 5: Excerpt

Author: US Army

Estimation of the situation is, however, a continuous process, and changed conditions may, at any
time, call for a new decision.

FM 100-5, Operations (1941)

This chapter defines assessment and describes its fundamentals. It describes an assessment process
and concludes with guides for effective assessment.

FUNDAMENTALS OF ASSESSMENT

5-1. Assessment is the determination of the progress toward accomplishing a task, creating a
condition, or achieving an objective (JP 3-0). Assessment is a continuous activity of the operations
process that supports decision making by ascertaining progress of the operation for the purpose of
developing and refining plans and for making operations more effective. Assessment results enhance
the commander’s decision making and help the commander and the staff to keep pace with constantly
changing situations.

5-2. Assessment involves deliberately comparing intended outcomes with actual events to determine
the overall effectiveness of force employment. More specifically, assessment helps the commander
determine progress toward attaining the desired end state, achieving objectives, and performing tasks.
Through professional military judgment, assessment helps answer the following questions:
Where are we?
What happened?
Why do we think it happened?
So what?
What are the likely future opportunities and risks?
What do we need to do?

5-3. Assessment precedes and guides the other activities of the operations process. During planning,
assessment focuses on understanding an OE and building an assessment plan. During preparation, the
focus of assessment switches to discerning changes in the situation and the force’s readiness to execute
operations. During execution, assessment involves deliberately comparing forecasted outcomes to
actual events while using indicators to judge operational progress towards success. Assessment during
execution helps commanders determine whether changes in the operation are necessary to take
advantage of opportunities or to counter unexpected threats.

5-4. The situation and echelon dictate the focus and methods leaders use to assess. Assessment occurs
at all echelons. Normally, commanders assess those specific operations or tasks that they were
directed to accomplish. This properly focuses collection and assessment at each echelon, reduces
redundancy, and enhances the efficiency of the overall assessment process.

Go to Table of Contents

L411RC-40

5-5. For units with a staff, assessment becomes more formal at each higher echelon. Assessment
resources (to include staff officer expertise and time available) proportionally increase from battalion
to brigade, division, corps, and theater army. The analytic resources and level of expertise of staffs
available at higher echelon headquarters include a dedicated core group of analysts. This group
specializes in operations research and systems analysis, formal assessment plans, and various
assessment products. Division, corps, and theater army headquarters, for example, have dedicated
plans, future operations, and current operations integration cells. They have larger intelligence staffs
and more staff officers trained in operations research and systems analysis. Assessment at brigade
echelon and lower is usually less formal, often relying on direct observations and the judgment of
commanders and their staffs.

5-6. For small units (those without a staff), assessment is mostly informal. Small-unit leaders focus on
assessing their unit’s readiness—personnel, equipment, supplies, and morale—and their unit’s ability
to perform assigned tasks. Leaders also determine whether the unit has attained task proficiency. If
those tasks have not produced the desired results, leaders explore why they have not and consider
what improvements could be made for unit operations. As they assess and learn, small units change
their tactics, techniques, and procedures based on west echelons in the Army follow the assessment
process.

ASSESSMENT ACTIVITIES

5-7. The situation and type of operations affect the characteristics of assessment. During large-scale
combat, assessment tends to be rapid, focused on the level of destruction of enemy units, terrain gained
or lost, objectives secured, and the status of the friendly force to include sustainment. In other situations,
such as counterinsurgency, assessment is less tangible. Assessing the level of security in an area or the
level of the population’s support for the government is challenging. Identifying what and how to assess
requires significant effort from the commander and staff.

5-8. Whether conducting major combat operations or operations dominated by stability tasks,
assessment consists of the major activities shown in figure 5-1. These activities include—
Monitoring the current situation to collect relevant information. Evaluating progress toward attaining
end state conditions, achieving objectives, and performing tasks. Recommending or directing action
for improvement.

Figure 5-1. Activities of assessment

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MONITORING

5-9. Monitoring is continuous observation of those conditions relevant to the current operation.
Monitoring allows staffs to collect relevant information, specifically that information about the current
situation described in the commander’s intent and concept of operations. Commanders cannot judge
progress nor make effective decisions without an accurate understanding of the current situation.

5-10. CCIRs and associated information requirements focus the staff’s monitoring activities and
prioritize the unit’s collection efforts. Information requirements concerning the enemy, terrain and
weather, and civil considerations are identified and assigned priorities through reconnaissance and
surveillance. Operations officers use friendly reports to coordinate other assessment-related
information requirements.

5-11. Staffs monitor and collect information from the common operational picture and friendly
reports. This information includes operational and intelligence summaries from subordinate, higher,
and adjacent headquarters and communications and reports from liaison teams. Staffs also identify
information sources outside military channels and monitor their reports. These other channels might
include products from civilian, host-nation, and other government agencies. Staffs apply information
management and knowledge management to facilitate disseminating this information to the right
people at the right time.

5-12. Staff sections record relevant information in running estimates. Staff sections maintain a
continuous assessment of current operations as a basis to determine if operations are proceeding
according to the operations. In their running estimates, staff sections use this
new information and these updated facts and assumptions as the basis for evaluation.

EVALUATING

While attrition formed an important element of American strategy in Vietnam, it hardly served as
the guiding principle. Westmoreland believed that destroying enemy forces would help lead to
larger political ends. Even before Westmoreland’s tenure, MACV [Military Advisory Command
Vietnam] had realized that quantitative reporting of enemy kills insufficiently measured progress
in an unconventional environment. Body counts did not necessarily produce reliable qualitative
assessments of the enemy’s military and political strength.

Gregory A. Daddis

5-13. The staff analyzes relevant information collected through monitoring to evaluate the operation’s
progress. Evaluating is using indicators to judge progress toward desired conditions and determining
why the current degree of progress exists. Evaluation is at the heart of the assessment process where
most of the analysis occurs. Evaluation helps commanders determine what is and what is not working,
and it helps them gain insights into how to better accomplish the mission.

5-14. In the context of assessment, an indicator is a specific piece of information that infers the
condition, state, or existence of something, and provides a reliable means to ascertain performance or
effectiveness (JP 5-0). Indicators should be—
Relevant—bear a direct relationship to a task, effect, object, or end state condition.
Observable—collectable so that changes can be detected and measured or evaluated.
Responsive—signify changes in the OE in time to enable effective decision making.

L411RC-42

Resourced—collection assets and staff resources are identified to observe and evaluate.

5-15. The two types of indicators commonly used in assessment include measures of performance
(MOPs) and measures of effectiveness (MOEs). A measure of performance is an indicator used to
measure a friendly action that is tied to measuring task accomplishment (JP 5-0). MOPs help answer
questions such as “Was the action taken?” or “Were the tasks completed to standard?” A MOP
confirms or denies that a task has been properly performed. MOPs are commonly found and tracked
at all levels in execution matrixes. MOPs help to answer the question “Are we doing things right?”

5-16. At the most basic level, every Soldier assigned a task maintains a formal or informal checklist
to track task completion. The status of those tasks and subtasks are MOPs. Similarly, operations
consist of a series of collective tasks sequenced in time, space, and purpose to accomplish missions.
Current operations integration cells use MOPs in execution matrixes, checklists, and running
estimates to track completed tasks. Staffs use MOPs as a primary element of battle tracking with a
focus on the friendly force. Evaluating skill accomplishment using MOPs is relatively straightforward
and often results in a “yes” or “no” answer.

5-17. A measure of effectiveness is an indicator used to measure a current system state, with change
indicated by comparing multiple observations over time (JP 5-0). MOEs help measure changes in
conditions, both positive and negative. MOEs help to answer the question “Are we doing the right
things?” MOEs are commonly found and tracked in formal assessment plans.

5-18. Evaluation includes analysis of why progress is or is not being made. Commanders and staffs
propose and consider possible causes. In particular, they address the question of whether or not
changes in the situation can be attributed to friendly actions. Commanders consult subject matter
experts, both internal and external to the staff, on whether their staffs have correctly identified the
underlying causes for specific changes in the situation. These experts challenge key facts and
assumptions identified in the planning process to determine if the facts and assumptions are still
relevant or valid.

5-19. Evaluating also includes considering whether the desired conditions have changed, are no
longer achievable, or are not achievable through the current operational approach. Staffs continually
challenge the key assumption is invalidated, then reframing may
be in order.

RECOMMENDING OR DIRECTING ACTION

5-20. Monitoring and evaluating are critical activities; however, assessment is incomplete without
recommending or directing action. Assessment may reveal problems, but unless it results in
recommended adjustments, its use to the commander is limited. Ideally, recommendations highlight
ways to improve the effectiveness of operations and plans by informing all decisions. (See paragraph
5-29 for a list of potential recommendations.)

5-21. Based on the evaluation of progress, the staff brainstorms possible improvements to the plan
and makes preliminary judgments about the relative merit of those changes. Staff members identify
those changes possessing sufficient merit and provide them as recommendations to the commander or
make adjustments within their delegated authority. Recommendations to the commander range from

L411RC-43

continuing the operation as planned, to executing a branch, or to making unanticipated adjustments.
Making adjustments includes assigning new tasks to subordinates, reprioritizing support, adjusting
information collection assets, and significantly modifying the COA. Commanders integrate
recommendations from the staff, subordinate commanders, and other partners with their personal
assessments. Using those recommendations, they decide if and how to modify the operation to better
accomplish the mission.

5-22. Assessment helps identify threats, suggests improvements to effectiveness, and reveals
opportunities. The staff presents the results and conclusions of its assessments and recommendations
to the commander as an operation develops. Just as the staff devotes time to analysis and evaluation,
so too must it make timely, complete, and actionable recommendations. The chief of staff or
executive officer ensures the staff completes recommendations in time to affect the operation and for
information to reach the commander when needed.

Measures of Effectiveness: OPERATION SUPPORT HOPE

Mission statements can serve as a primary source from which to develop measures of
effectiveness. The first and most urgent task facing planners for OPERATION SUPPORT HOPE in
Rwanda, July 1994, was the directive to “stop the dying” from the U.S. Commander in Chief, Europe.
Initial action focused on the massive refugee deaths from cholera around Goma, Zaire. The joint task
force commander decided to measure effectiveness by whether refugee camp death rates dropped to
the level the United Nations determined was consistent with “normal” camp operations. A related
mission requirement was to open Kigali airfield for 24-hour operations. Success for this requirement
was measured by statistical data that showed the surge in airfield use and cargo throughput after
American forces arrived. Both measures of effectiveness derived from the mission statement the
operation to communicate progress to all participants.

ASSESSMENT PROCESS

5-23. There is no single way to conduct assessment. Every situation has its own distinctive challenges,
making every assessment unique. The following steps can help guide the development of an effective
assessment plan and assessment activities during preparation and execution:
Step 1 – Develop the assessment approach (planning).
Step 2 – Develop the assessment plan (planning).
Step 3 – Collect information and intelligence (preparation and execution).
Step 4 – Analyze information and intelligence (preparation and execution).
Step 5 – Communicate feedback and recommendations (preparation and execution).
Step 6 – Adapt plans or operations (planning and execution).
(See ATP 5-0.3 for a detailed discussion of each step of the assessment process.)

STEP 1 – DEVELOP THE ASSESSMENT APPROACH

5-24. Assessment begins in planning as the commander identifies the operation’s end state, operational
approach, and associated objectives and tasks. Concurrently, the staff begins to develop an assessment
approach by identifying specific information needed to monitor and analyze conditions associated with
attaining the operation’s end state, achieving objectives, and accomplishing tasks. In doing so, the staff
tries to answer the following questions:

L411RC-44

How will we know we are creating the desired conditions?
What information do we need?
Who is best postured to provide that information?
5-25. If a higher headquarters assessment plan exists, the staff aligns applicable elements of that
assessment plan to the plan they are developing. The assessment approach becomes the framework for
the assessment plan and will continue to mature through plan development. The assessment approach
should identify the information and intelligence needed to assess progress and inform decision making.

STEP 2 – DEVELOP THE ASSESSMENT PLAN

5-26. This step overlaps Step 1. It focuses on developing a plan to monitor and collect necessary
information and intelligence to inform decision making throughout execution. The assessment plan
should link end state conditions, objectives, and tasks to observable key indicators. This plan also
should include specific staff responsibilities to monitor, collect, and analyze information as well as
develop recommendations and assessment products as required.

STEP 3 – COLLECT INFORMATION

5-27. Staffs collect relevant information throughout planning and execution. They refine and adapt
information collection requirements as the operations progresses. Staffs and subordinate commands
provide information during execution through applicable battle rhythm events and reports.
Intelligence staffs continually provide updates about the situation to include information about the
enemy, terrain, and civil
considerations.

STEP 4 – ANALYZE INFORMATION AND INTELLIGENCE

5-28. Analysis seeks to identify positive or negative movement toward achieving objectives or
attaining end state conditions. Accurate analysis seeks to identify trends and changes that
significantly impact the operation. Based on this analysis, the staff estimates the effects of force
employment and resource allocation; determines whether forces have achieved their objectives; or
realizes that a decision point has emerged.

5-29. Recommendations generated by staff analyses regarding achievement of the objective or
attainment of the desired end state conditions, force employment, resource allocation, validity of
planning assumptions, and decision points should enable the staff to develop recommendations for
consideration. Recommendations can include the following:
Update, change, add, or remove critical assumptions.
Transition between phases.
Execute branches or sequels.
Change resource allocation.
Adjust objectives or end state conditions.
Change or add tasks to subordinate units.
Adjust priorities.
Change priorities of effort.
Change command relationships.
Change task organizations.

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Adjust decision points.
Refine or update assessment plan.

STEP 5 – COMMUNICATE FEEDBACK AND RECOMMENDATIONS

5-30. Assessment products contain recommendations for the commander based upon the
commander’s guidance. Regardless of quality and effort, the assessment process is limited if the
communication of its results is deficient or inconsistent with the commander’s personal style of
assimilating information and making decisions. Additionally, there may be a requirement to provide
input to higher headquarters assessments in which the requirements and feedback could be within a
different construct.

STEP 6 – ADAPT PLANS OR OPERATIONS

5-31. Commanders direct changes or provide additional guidance that dictate updates or
modifications to operations to drive progress of operations to objectives and end state conditions.
Staffs capture the commander’s decisions and guidance to ensure forces take necessary actions. As
the operation evolves, the assessment plan will evolve as well.

GUIDES TO EFFECTIVE ASSESSMENT

5-32. Throughout the conduct of operations, commanders integrate their own assessments with those
of the staff, subordinate commanders, and other unified action partners in the AO. The following
guides aid in effective assessment:
Commander involvement.
Integration.
Incorporation of the logic of the plan.
Caution when establishing cause and effect.

COMMANDER INVOLVEMENT

5-33. The commander’s involvement in operation assessment is essential. The assessment plan should
focus on the information and intelligence that directly support the commander’s decision making.
Commanders establish priorities for assessment in their planning guidance and CCIRs. By prioritizing
the effort, commanders guide the staff’s analysis efforts. Committing valuable time and energy to
developing excessive and time-consuming assessment schemes squanders resources better devoted to
other operations process activities. Commanders reject the tendency to measure something just
because it is measurable. Effective commanders avoid burdening subordinates and staffs with overly
detailed assessments and collection tasks. Generally, the echelon conducted should be the echelon at
which it is assessed.

Commander’s Assessment: Are We Ready to Close on Baghdad

Just eight days after crossing the border from Kuwait into Iraq, coalition forces neared the enemy’s
outer defensive positions of Baghdad. V Corps had fought its way north from the west side of the
Euphrates River as the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) attacked north on the east side. Both
forces had weathered a sand storm and logisticians diligently moved supplies, fuel, and ammunition

L411RC-46

forward. Fighting continued along the V Corps line of operations from As Samawah north to An Najaf.
Intense fighting was ongoing along the I MEF’s approach from Basra north to An Nasiriyah.

On 28 March 2003, General David D. McKiernan, commander of the coalition force land component
command, went forward to meet with his commanders, Generals James T. Conway (I MEF) and
William S. Wallace (V Corps) in Jalibah. He wanted to hear directly from his subordinates concerning
their “stance” for the transition from the march up-country to closing on Baghdad.

The meeting began with McKiernan providing his assessment of enemy forces and results of war
gaming from his staff. He then asked some key questions to his commanders, including their
satisfaction with the level of risk along the lines of communications back to Kuwait. Both Wallace and
Conway had some concerns they believed they needed to address prior to crossing the “red line” that
referred to entering the inner defensive cordon outside of Baghdad. Wallace briefed his plan for a series
of attacks designed to set the conditions for the assault to isolate Baghdad. McKiernan asked what he
needed to set that stance. Wallace responded by saying he needed to position the corps by 31 March to
launch his attacks on 1 April.

Conway noted that the I MEF was undertaking “a systematic reduction of the bad guys in An Nasiriya”
and he wanted 1 United Kingdom Armored Division to execute some “pinpoint armor strikes” in Basra.
Conway also noted that Colonel Joe Dowdy (1st Regimental Combat Team commander) was in “a 270-
degree fight.”

After hearing his commanders, McKiernan decided to “take time to clean up and make sure we have
the right stance in our battlespace before we commit into the Baghdad fight, because once we commit
to the Baghdad fight, we can’t stop.” Supported by the assessment of hi a transition to set conditions
to isolate Baghdad.

INTEGRATION

5-34. Assessment requires integration. Assessing progress is the responsibility of all staff sections and
not the purview of any one staff section or command post cell. Each staff section assesses the
operation from its specific area of expertise. However, these staff sections must coordinate and
integrate their individual assessments and associated recommendations across the warfighting
functions to produce comprehensive assessments for the commander, particularly in protracted
operations. They do this in the assessment working group.

5-35. Most assessment working groups are at higher echelons (division and above) and are more
likely to be required in protracted operations. Normally, the frequency of meetings is part of a unit’s
battle rhythm. The staff, however, does not wait for a scheduled working group to inform the
commander on issues that require immediate attention. Nor does the staff wait to take action in those
areas within its delegated authority.

5-36. The assessment working group is cross-functional by design and includes membership from
across the staff, liaison personnel, and other unified action partners outside the headquarters.
Commanders direct the chief of staff, executive officer, or a staff section leader to run the assessment
working group. Typically, the operations officer, plans officer, or senior operations research and
systems analysis staff section serves as the staff lead for the assessment working group.

L411RC-47

5-37. Developing an assessment plan occurs concurrently within the steps of the MDMP. The
resulting assessment plan should support the command’s battle rhythm. The frequency with which the
assessment working group meets depends on the situation. Additionally, the assessment working
group may present its findings and recommendations to the commander for decision. Subordinate
commanders may participate and provide their assessments of operations and recommendations along
with the staff. Commanders combine these assessments with their personal assessment, consider
recommendations, and then direct changes to improve performance and better accomplish the
mission.

INCORPORATION OF THE LOGIC OF THE PLAN

5-38. Effective assessment relies on an accurate understanding of the logic (reasoning) used to build
the plan. Each plan is built on assumptions and an operational approach. The reasons or logic as to
why the commander believes the plan will produce the desired results become important
considerations when staffs determine how to assess operations. Recording, understanding, and
making this logic explicit helps the staffs recommend the appropriate MOEs and MOPs for assessing
the operation.

CAUTION WHEN ESTABLISHING CAUSE AND EFFECT
5-39. Although establishing cause and effect is sometimes difficult, it is crucial to effective
assessment. Sometimes, establishing causality between actions and their effects can be relatively
straightforward, such as in observing a bomb destroy a bridge. In other instances, especially regarding
changes in human behavior, attitudes, and perceptions, establishing links between cause and effect
proves difficult. Commanders and staffs must guard against drawing erroneous conclusions in these
instances.

L412

Developing Leadership Capacity

AY 2021–2022

L412AS-49

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

Advance Sheet for L412

Developing Leadership Capacity

1. SCOPE

The Army recognizes leadership as an element of combat power in FM 3-0 and reinforces the idea in
ADP 3-0. This lesson examines how organizational level leaders develop leadership capacity in
organizations to enhance combat power. The Army’s primary quality shaping tool is the leader
development process, described in broad terms in the Army Leader Development Strategy 2013. This
strategy for developing competent leaders’ focuses on individual leader development tasks and skills;
overlooking details on building leadership capacity. Since 2006, “Develops Others” is the lowest rated
Army leader competency in the Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey of Army Leadership
(CASAL), often by a very wide margin. Almost half the respondents on the 2012-2018 surveys did not
believe their superiors showed genuine concern when it came to developing their followers’ leadership
skills. There are varieties of reasons for this perception among subordinates. One of the likely reasons is a
lack of understanding of what respondents considered leadership development. Often individuals do not
recognize training opportunities or experiences as developmental activities and as essential parts of the
leadership development process. In other words, subordinates fail to attach meaning to the experience.
Meaning making is the process people go through to interpret, understand, or make sense of life events.
Often, meaning making involves creating a personal understanding of the event’s relevance to the
participant. In this lesson, you explore the importance of meaning making to developing leadership
capacity in organizations.

Another insight from the CASAL survey was respondents believe that despite what is perceived as

inconsistent developmental efforts of commanders, leaders continue to “learn by doing,” i.e., gather
lessons from experience. This belief in the significance of experiential learning is consistent with the
Army’s paradigm of the importance of gaining experience in the operational domain. In this lesson, you
explore the capacity for leadership development at the organizational level in the operational domain.
Specifically, you examine the commanders’ role in developing others, the use of experience as a
developmental tool for learning, and the process of making sense of learning experiences at the
organizational level.

As a result of this lesson, you gain a better understanding of leadership development at the

organizational level as a learning process that, when done purposefully, creates adaptive, innovative, and
self-directed leaders through experiential learning and meaning making.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES

Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in
developing organizations.

This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger
units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet.

ELO 10.2
Action: Explain the leadership development process in the operational domain.

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L412AS-50

Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within
complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of
Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and block
examination.
Standard: Analysis includes—
1. Explain the commander’s role in developing others.
2. Explain the role of experience in developmental learning; and
3. Explain the process of meaning making.
Learning Domain: Cognitive, Level of Learning: Comprehension
CGSOC PLO 2 Attributes Supported:
a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession.
b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting.
c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership.
d. Meet organizational-level challenges.
e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long
learners.
f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. The L412 advance sheet and readings are located in Blackboard.

b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement:

Read:
L412RA: Boylan, Steven A., “A Framework for Leadership Development.” Command and

General Staff College (Fort Leavenworth) (June, 2021). [7 pages]
L412RB: 2018 CAL Annual Survey of Army Leadership: Military and Civilian Leader Findings

Technical Report 2019-1 (May 2019). Read the executive summary pages iv –xvi [11 pages]. The 11
page executive summary and summary of findings provides an excellent overview of the complete
report.

L412RC: Case Study, Adaptive Leadership: Harold G. “Hal” Moore, The Art of Command:
Military Leadership from George Washington to Colin Powell 2nd ed, The University Press of
Kentucky, 2017, pages 232-303 [11 pages]

Review:
L106RA: The Learning Organization Primer.

For additional readings on this topic, consider:
United States. Army, ALDS: Army Leader Development Strategy 2013. By Raymond F.

Chandler, Raymond T. Odierno, and John M. McHugh. The ALDS covers the three domains of
institutional, operational, and self-development. The operational domain responsibilities listed in
Annex F dovetail closely with the concepts covered in L206RA.

L412AS-51

McCall, Morgan W. “Recasting Leadership Development.” Industrial and Organizational
Psychology 3, no. 1 (2010). The reading provides an excellent discussion on the importance of
experience in developing leaders.

Crissman, Douglas C. “Improving the Leader Development Experience in Army Units.” Military
Review May-June 2013 [10 pages]. Located on Blackboard. Provides a discussion of lines of effort in
the area of leader development.

(2) Second Requirement: Case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the AOC

leadership lessons area. This is a study aid. Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the
case. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in
the case study. The worksheet is located in Blackboard under the L400 area.

(3) Third Requirement: Reflective Questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the

readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

– What is the relationship between a culture of learning and leadership development?

– Why are challenging experiences so important from a developmental perspective?

– How do you know if you are learning the right lessons from experience?

– How do you evaluate the leadership development process in an organization?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access:
L412, advance sheet and readings
ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

The instructor assesses your performance in L412 as part of the end of AOC leadership essay. During

class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor accomplishes
this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the
leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other
students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three,
assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment
information.

L412RA-52

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
Module I: Deployment Operations/L400: The Art of Command

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading A
A Framework for Leadership Development

Author: Dr. Steven Boylan

Leadership encompasses all types of organizations, including for profit, not-for-profit, governmental,
and the US military. The Army requires its leaders to provide leadership at various levels in a variety of
situations, from preparing to deploy to combat, actions in combat, redeployment, and continuing the cycle
for the next deployment. Throughout these processes Army organizations continue to change and grow. A
key component of that growth must include Army leadership development.

Background and 2018 Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL)
Study

The 2018 CASAL identified trends, starting in 2005, in the area of leadership development. CASAL
results indicate that only two-thirds of uniformed leaders and 57% of civilian respondents assess the
command climate in their unit or organization as positive or very positive. Trust is an important
contributor to a positive command climate, in addition to the quality and effectiveness of leaders and the
enforcement and upholding of standards (CASAL, 2018, vi). The concept of developing others stands out
as a trend, with less than 75% of the Army leadership rated as effective in developing their subordinates
according to study results. A leaders’ effectiveness in the competency, develops others, includes
behaviors such as providing performance counseling and informal feedback to help subordinates improve
their current skills and prepare for future assignments. According to CASAL results, performance
counseling is inconsistently applied by Army leaders and has marginal or no impact on a subordinate
leaders’ development. Informal feedback is provided, at least occasionally, by most superiors. This type
of feedback tends to focus more on performance of duties and less on how to improve or prepare for
future responsibilities. In a survey of over 25,000 global leaders, Sinar and colleagues (2018) found that
when 75% of performance management discussions focused on developmental planning, leader
engagement and retention increased (CASAL, 2018, xi). The survey also indicated those individuals who
rate their superior ineffective in develops others are also unlikely to have a mentor, which is another
leader development area of concern.

Leader development appears to be a moderate level of priority at the unit and organizational level.
Approximately 33% of survey respondents indicated there was no formal plan or published information
for leader development. The findings also indicated that most leaders look to the institutional Army for
schools and self-development to fulfill the role of leader development programs (CASAL, 2018). If trends
from the CASAL study and the findings from other studies continue, the potential for a significant
undermining of the [institution] organization could occur over time if left unchecked. In the worst case,
the lack of meaningful developmental feedback impacts the ability of the organization to effectively meet
its missions in the future as they operate in complex environments, and at worst case inhibits the growth
of its future leaders. Richardson (2011) summed up the issue when he stated that leadership within the
Army has difficulty going beyond that of being a positional figure within the chain of command. The
Army’s leadership typically does not provide for transformational leadership in an environment that is
safe, and also fails to foster learning to solve complex and adaptive problems (Richardson, 2011). This is
important for the Army’s leaders and for leadership development.

Go to Table of Contents

L412RA-53

US Army Leadership Doctrine and Leadership Development Concepts

Organizational leadership is not only required within business or corporate entities and civilian
organizations, but is also a requirement for the Army in positional roles at the battalion and higher level
organizations. Organizations spend vast sums of money on leadership development each year, with costs
of education and training in leadership development increasing (Peters, Baum & Stephens, 2011).
Leadership development remains important based upon the amount of resources devoted to prepare
organizational leaders for current and future requirements (Peters, et al., 2011). Multi-billion dollar
investments for leadership development receive criticism by both academia and practitioner communities
because of their inability to positively affect individuals who require training and education in leadership
development to meet the needs of their organizations (Goldman, Wesner, Plack, Manikoth, & Haywood,
2014).

The US Army’s leadership doctrine provides the basis to support leadership development planning,
education, and training. However, it is not sufficient to meet the needs at the organizational level of
leadership. The US Army divides leadership into three distinct categories of direct, organizational, and
strategic levels. According to Army doctrine, direct level leadership resides below battalion level
organizations (Department of the Army, 2013). Organizational leadership begins at the battalion and
higher level organizations, with more authorities and responsibilities to accomplish organizational and
higher goals and missions, whereas strategic leadership resides at the national and international level
linked to national strategic goals (Commander and Staff Organizational and Operations, 2014;
Department of the Army, 2013; Department of the Army, 2015). According to the General Accounting
Office (2004), the Army is a hierarchical organization requiring strong and competent organizational
leaders and leadership to accomplish its missions and maintain the US national security interests.

Organizational level leadership involves more complexity within the type and scope of organizations,
while still using some direct level leadership traits and characteristics (Army Regulation 600-100, 2007).
Priorities at the organizational level also shift to issues of greater uncertainty, multiple priorities,
development of long-range vision, and organizational goals (Army Regulation 600-100, 2007;
Commander and Staff Organizational and Operations, 2014; Department of the Army, 2013; Department
of the Army, 2015).

The literature on leadership development is vast and contradictory. Some of the most developmental
research findings from 2000–2010 focused on problems that included goals and goal setting, investment
in people, and needs of the organization. Important to the individual leadership development phase is the
critical components of understanding individual goals (Olivares, 2008). According to Mahsud, Yukl, and
Prussia (2011), an important part of leadership development is the development of human capital. Human
capital accounts for the values the organization gains from the contributions of leaders, and the tacit
knowledge gained from leaders. According to Leskiw and Singh (2007), for success in leadership
development, a system that encompasses formal training and action learning is necessary to support the
organizations goals. An organizational leadership learning system should develop leadership
opportunities through action learning, positive relationships, and a feedback system for continuous
improvement. As the research grew, researchers added thought into what leadership is and what a leader
exhibiting leadership does, specific to the position of leader.

As an organization, the US Army trains and operates in an environment that is complex and ever
changing. This places its leaders in dynamic and fluid situations requiring not only leadership, but
development of its leaders prior to the activities in which the leaders find themselves. Leader
development for the military is not unlike civilian organizations competing in the global marketplace,
competing in their own dynamic and fluid situations and complex environments. According to
Amanchukwu, Stanley and Ololube (2015), the variety of circumstances leaders find themselves in are a

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wide range of simple, to very complex, characteristics that affect the performance of individuals and
leaders.

Kolb (1984) and Mcleod, (2017) posit that learning involves the acquisition of abstract concepts that
assists individuals in relating their knowledge and mental understanding to actual problems or events
where the teacher directs and enables learning. Kolb (1984) offered that the experiential learning theory
(ELT) is a process that creates knowledge through transforming of experiences, and knowledge is a result
of merging, clutching, and transforming experiences. As we have all most likely experienced, the setting
or environment for learning can include classrooms, labs, studios, or other like areas that serve as stages
to foster learning in a more controlled setting. However, when provided the opportunities to learn in the
actual environmental situations, learning is enhanced according to Wurdinger and Carlson (2010).

For leadership development to succeed, organizations and leaders must provide a system or process
that allows what Leskiw and Singh (2007) describe as action learning. Mezirow (1997) offers the
transformative learning theory that assists individuals in making meaning out of a body of experiences
equaling associations, concepts, perceptions, cognition, and feelings. He further divides his frame of
reference into instrumental learning that includes empirical testing that leads to the truth, and
communicative learning that involves the individual’s ability to understand purposes, values, beliefs, and
feelings (Mezirow, 1997). This concept links to an organizational leadership system, process, or even a
framework that provides leadership opportunities that mirror the meaning-making framework (see Figure
1). Olivares (2008) noted that for individual leadership development, one must understand the needs and
critical components of an individual’s goals in relation to leadership development. Mahsud, Yukl and
Prussia (2011) provide insights that one of the key elements of leadership development is in the
investment by organizations in their human capital. They link the ideas valuing human capital to that of
the tacit knowledge gained from the leaders and how the organization learns.

The US Army publications such as the Army Leader Development Strategy (ALDS) (2013), Army
Doctrine Publication (ADP) 6-22 (2019), Field Manual 6-0 Commander and Staff Organizational and
Operations (2014), and Field Manual 6-22 Leader Development (2015) provide insights of how the Army
views leadership development holistically. It is important to note that very little distinction is made
between the direct, organizational, and strategic leadership within the Army publications. Leadership is
leadership for the Army as an organization. The US Army’s Center for Army Leadership Annual Survey
of Army Leadership (CASAL) studies from 2005–2018 are essential to understand key findings over a
period time, concerning leadership trends as perceived by the members of the U.S. Army.

Conceptual Framework

The conceptual framework depicted (Figure 1) is not found in any Army or Department of Defense
(DoD) publication. We developed the framework for a study of the Army’s Leadership Development
guided by the Experiential Learning Theory (ELT). Using the ELT as a basis, this framework provides a
useful way to conceptualize the operational and institutional aspects of the Army. The framework
supports leadership development prior to the need to use the developmental knowledge acquired in
organizational leadership positions (Boylan, 2017). Leaders who understand that an organization is
comprised of assorted parts that co-exist and work together to achieve a specific set of organizational
goals can effectively coordinate programs to benefit the individual and the organization.

ELT is a process that assists in formulating knowledge through transforming experiences whereby
knowledge is a result of merging, clutching, and transforming our experiences. The Army’s learning
environment is a combination of classroom during professional education (known as the institutional
domain), the operational domain (which includes being out in units and organizations), and the self-

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development domain. The ELT and meaning-making, or sense-making framework, lends itself to all three
domains within the Army.

The ELT, along with the integration of the assessment process of the individual leader’s needs and the
organizational needs for its leaders, combined with the learning opportunities either available or designed,
provide the required experiences to foster the meaning-making cycle of leadership development (Figure
1). When making sense of individual experiences, individuals can have difficulty making sense or
attributing meaning to their experiences. Merriam and Caffarella (2007) offered most adults do not
develop the ability to make sense of their experiences independently of others’ expectations until well
into adulthood. Until the individual is capable, based on time and sufficient experiences, to determine the
sense-making elements of their experiences, the individual requires assistance and encouragement
according to Ignelzi (2000). When put together with others with more experience, the remainder of the
cycle enables how knowledge is transferred within an organization from more experienced to the not as
experienced individuals. Expanding this to the organization in transferring knowledge from one part of
the organization to another part, it is more than just knowledge management, emails, shared servers, and
even discussions. How knowledge is transferred from the individual to the organization is a thoughtful
process ideally supported by the organizational climate and a learning organization.

Detailed Explanation of the Framework

So, how does this framework work? What follows is a more detailed approach of the framework for
your use and consideration. The cycle is an iterative process that occurs as the commander/supervisor
determines what is necessary to provide continuous leadership development and growth. For this cycle
and the purposes of this article, the focus is the individuals the commander/supervisor directly rates or
supervises. There is no expectation that the commander/supervisor attempts to directly develop every
individual within the organization personally. It is acknowledged that is not possible. However, if the
individual recipients of this framework and development find it useful, we expect them to model the
behaviors in this area with those they directly supervise, thereby making this framework an organizational
leadership development plan or program.

Figure 1. Leadership development conceptual framework, modified from Experiential Learning:
Experience as the Source of Learning and Development, by D. A. Kolb, 1984, p. 141, and An
Exploratory Case Study: U.S. Army’s Leadership Development for Organizational Leaders, S.A.
Boylan, 2017, p. 22. Approved for public release.

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Supportive Climate: For the supervisor/commander/leader using this framework; an overall
supportive climate enables the overall learning. Without a supportive climate, not only is this framework
and overall leadership development a challenge to effectively implement, many other programs within the
organization exhibits the same challenges.

Assessment: During the initial phase of the framework, the supervisor/commander must conduct an
assessment of the organization and the individual slated for development. They must use a variety of
tools, assessments, documents, etc., to completely inform their initial assessment of the needs of both the
individual and organization.

Supervisor/Commander: Conducts assessment of the individual and the organization.
Individual needs are informed by discussions, officer record briefs (ORB), individual development plans
(IDP), observations, career status/timeframe, and goals. These building blocks of information assist the
supervisor/commander in their assessment of the individual to determine what learning opportunities are
required and what areas of leadership development need focus.

Organizational Needs/Desires: Informed by the commander’s assessment, mission, vision, and
environment. Potential questions to ask include: What does the organization need? What type of
leadership is required? Can they take over command or lead the section/unit in a moment’s notice? Would
I want my children being led by them? If not, what can assist them to prepare in the area of leadership?

Learning Opportunities: The commander/supervisor determines the learning opportunities. There is
no need to add to the already packed and busy organizational schedule. Take advantage of what is already
scheduled/occurring within the organization. The learning opportunities vary based on the organization.
Be creative in the “what” and “how” to provide the experience in the next phase of the
cycle/development. After the assessment of both the individual and organization, including what learning
opportunities are available; this information feeds the sense-making cycle. The learning opportunities are
the events, meetings, exercises, etc., that become the experiences the individual receives. Leverage
routine events to maximize learning and development.

Experience: The commander/supervisor/leader determines the experience(s) required based on their
assessment of both the individual and organizational needs. What learning opportunities lead to the
individual having experiences that facilitate learning via the experiential learning model/theory? These
are events or activities, routine or unique. Take advantage of what the organization is already doing or
scheduled. Be creative in the experiences provided. During the experience, the observer looks at
behaviors, decisions, judgement, actions, etc., that provide the basis for the feedback.

Observed Behaviors: Observation is a must for the individual to use it within the sense-making
cycle. Typically the commander, supervisor, or leader of the individual is the one observing, but that is
not always the case. The key is, the individual facilitating the development receives the information on
the observations (observed behaviors discussed above) to provide feedback later as an essential element
of the cycle.

Feedback: Timing and feedback from the observer is essential. The closer the timeframe from the
observations to the feedback provided, facilitates learning. How much time it takes to provide the
feedback depends on the amount of feedback required. During this initial feedback, allow the individual
to ask questions to clarify any details required to assist in ensuring effective communication of
observations. We do not recommend engaging in a lengthy discussion in this stage, as the feedback is new
and most likely still being processed by the individual.

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Self-Reflection: This is the opportunity for the individual to think about (reflect) the initial parts of
the cycle (experience and the initial feedback provided). The amount of time before the initial discussion
that follows depends on the schedule of both involved, as well as the organizational schedule. Do not let
the excuse of “no time”, cause you to miss the next steps in the cycle. Recommend no more than a week
between these steps so that everything remains fresh.

Initial Discussion: During this discussion, the individual comes prepared to discuss their insights
from the experience, feedback provided, and their reflection. This is essential in the meaning-making
aspects that move into the overall sense-making cycle. Incumbent upon the commander/supervisor/leader
is determining what meaning the individual made to this point. Depending on what meaning the
individual made, this is the point in which the commander/supervisor/leader assists the individual in
ensuring they take the “right” lessons learned and meaning behind what happened, why things happened
in the way they did, and what other aspects they can learn from (what tasks did not get accomplished,
what other decisions could have been made, why did they decide to do what they did, second/third order
of affects, unintended consequences….). The tone (informal instead of formal, such as in counseling) of
this discussion is critical; it is a dialogue, and how the conversation is received goes to how well the
discussion is received.

Planned Changes/Lessons Learned: In this part of the cycle, the individual determines what needs
to be different should they find themselves in a similar situation in the future. What would they do
differently and why? What did they learn? It is essential the individual clearly understands what
learning/meaning occurred in order to move forward.

Discussion: In this point of the cycle, another discussion could occur to ensure the individual took the
meaning and made sense of their experience, what came from it, and the potential way ahead for the
future. This is the last check on learning during this part of the cycle for the specific experience. Make
clear to the individual that they should remember what they learned to continue their growth and
development. The cycle occurs again with another experience to produce further development and growth
or to reinforce the experience as needed. At a point the commander/supervisor/leader determines is
appropriate, have the discussion with the individual(s) they are developing on what they are doing to
develop their subordinates in leadership. What process are they using? Have they found value in this
process if used? If they are finding value, then there is potential of them following the framework much in
the same way to develop the leadership capacity of their subordinates, thereby producing over time, an
organizational leadership development program/plan.

Conclusion

As with many organizations, if change does not occur within the culture of the organization,
improvement does not occur and is not sustained over time. Change can occur. However, it is usually
more reactive than proactive, not thought of in terms of future growth, and not placed within leadership
development. In hierarchal organizations, change is normally top down driven. Within the organization,
expectations and perception do not normally change unless the view developed and delivered comes from
the top. In the end, unless the senior leaders believe something is important, the status quo remains and
expectations and perceptions remain the same. This also leads to the potential for hindering mission
accomplishment and the development of future organizational leadership.

Based on the findings of the study using the US Army’s prior leadership surveys, doctrine,
regulations, policies, and the participant’s collective experiences, the doctrine is not fully sufficient
(Boylan, 2017). Requirements for significant reviews and new processes ensure continued improvement
in organizational leadership development for the future occurs. The specific organizational leadership
development requirements, duties, responsibilities, attributes, and characteristics are not specifically

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depicted within the US Army’s doctrine and regulations. This is a shortfall within the US Army. Only two
educational courses within the Command and General Staff College specifically conduct organizational
leadership development planning within the Advanced Operations Course and one elective.

For effective organizational leadership development in the future, the creation of additional doctrine,
educational best practices, policies, and regulations require development to bridge the gap between the
direct, organizational, and strategic leadership development. The framework provided outlines how Army
leaders should include meaning-making and sense-making to effectively plan and conduct leadership
development for the future. Although the Army and civilian organizations discuss, train, and foster
leadership development to improve their organizations, organizational leadership development is not fully
addressed or considered. There are last remaining questions each individual must ask themselves. Are
they satisfied to this point on what leadership development they have received till now? If not, then what
are they going to do about it? Would they want their children or other family members led by those that
they developed?

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading B
2018 CASL Executive Summary

Authors: Center for Army Leadership

Purpose

The Center for Army Leadership’s (CAL) Annual Survey of Army Leadership (CASAL) is a
recurring, longitudinal study to capture assessments from the field about leadership and leader
development. CASAL has been used to inform senior leaders about leadership quality and associated
upward or downward trends since 2005, which enables decision makers and stakeholders to make better
informed decisions, course adjustments, or leverage prevailing strengths. CAL accepts data queries
submitted by agencies and individuals for further analysis of CASAL results. CASAL findings inform
groups such as the Army Profession and Leader Development Forum, Civilian Workforce
Transformation, Army Learning Coordination Council, Army Talent Management Task Force, as well as
special studies and initiatives conducted by various other organizations.

Readiness remains a top priority for Army senior leaders. The total force must be ready to fight to
win, which requires each element to be prepared to perform at its best. Unit readiness is contingent on a
number of factors, the most apparent being manpower, resources, and training. Other factors internal and
external to the unit also impact readiness, and one of those factors is leadership. Leaders make decisions
about resources, personnel, and training in units and organizations, but they also influence the climate
within their unit, and the attitudes and behaviors of their unit’s members, which can impact readiness.
Leaders energize their followers to accomplish directed and implied tasks and invest in improving their
organizations. Given the positive relationships between leadership and many aspects of unit readiness, it
is important to assess the effectiveness of Army leaders and leader development. The results of such an
assessment can enable decision makers and stakeholders to make better informed decisions, course
adjustments, adopt new or revised developmental practices, and leverage prevailing strengths, and thus
further advance efforts toward total force readiness.

Method

CAL applies scientifically strong methods to survey development, sampling, data collection, analysis,
interpretation, and reporting to obtain accurate and reliable information. CASAL addresses genuine Army
leadership and leader development requirements as established by Army regulations and doctrine. Survey
items are chosen based on historical tracking of issues, new input from stakeholders in the Army leader
development community, and emerging issues identified by CAL. CASAL data were collected from 23
October through 3 December 2018. Survey respondents consisted of 9,514 globally dispersed, active
component (AC) and reserve component (RC) Soldiers in the ranks of sergeant through colonel and Army
Civilians. Sampling practices generally produced results with a margin of error of ± 4.0% or less for the
nearly 600,000 Army leaders represented.1 Data analysis includes assessment of percentages by cohort
and ranks, analysis of trends, comparisons across experiences and demographics, coding of short-answer
responses, correlations, and regressions. Findings from other surveys and data sources are consulted to
check the reliability of CASAL responses.

For most items, percentages are used to convey the relative frequency of respondents who assess
leaders or leader development positively and to show trends across time. As an aid in interpretation,

Go to Table of Contents

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favorability levels have been set based on past CASAL and other surveys. Studies to determine the levels
of risk to mission success found that a threshold of 75% applied to the percentage of unit leaders required
to be effective in leadership competencies and attributes to avoid medium or significant chance of mission
failure. CASAL’s assessment of leadership behaviors whereby item results receive three-fourths or more
favorable responses (i.e., 75% effective plus very effective) are considered positive. Items where favorable
responses fall below this threshold and/or receive 20% or more unfavorable responses are considered
areas for improvement. Across 13 previous years of CASAL results, several consistent patterns emerged
that provide a backdrop to aid understanding of specific findings:

Group percentages indicating favorability of leadership and leader development increase with the

rank and length of service of the respondent. For example, lower- ranking NCOs tend to provide less
favorable ratings than do NCOs in higher ranks.

Ratings on items that have greater personal impact (e.g., agreement that your immediate superior is

an effective leader) tend to be more favorable than ratings for items that are less specific (e.g., rating the
effectiveness of your superiors as leaders).

Results from AC and RC leaders tend to be similar, within 1% to 3% favorable response on many

items. Meaningful differences are noted where applicable.

Army Civilian leaders on average fall below military leaders in terms of favorable leadership ratings.

However, on average, Civilian leaders feel more empowered than military leaders.

Operational experience and self-development are rated as having greater value and impact than
formal institutional education (e.g., resident and nonresident courses and schools) for leader development.

The Army Values and professional beliefs tend to be rated more favorably than other leader attributes
and competencies.

Summary of Findings
Army Working Environment

Organizational Climate

Organizational climate encompasses many aspects, including perceptions of unit preparedness,
command climate, trust, workload stress, and standards and discipline. Perceptions of unit preparedness
are moderately favorable. About two-thirds of Army leaders and three-fourths of Army civilians perceive
their unit or organization is well or very well prepared to perform its primary mission, which is consistent
with findings from 2017 when this was first assessed by CASAL. Thus, one in four respondents perceive
their unit is not well prepared to perform its primary mission. For an Army that is focused on readiness,
this finding indicates room for improvement. Of the respondents who indicate their unit is poorly or very
poorly prepared for its mission (10-17%), the most commonly cited factors are unit leadership issues to
include lack of guidance, poor decision making, not holding Soldiers accountable, and showing
favoritism; personnel or manning shortages; deficiencies in unit training or proficiency; lack of
equipment, facilities, and/or resources; taskings and other disruptions to the unit’s mission; and the
working dynamics within the organization.

Command climate is a factor that affects perceptions of unit preparedness. CASAL results indicate
that only two-thirds of uniformed leaders and 57% of civilian respondents assess the command climate in
their unit or organization as positive or very positive.

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Trust is an important contributor to a positive command climate, in addition to the quality and
effectiveness of leaders and the upholding of standards. Trust is also critical for mission command. The
percentages of respondents with favorable perceptions of trust among unit members, trust in their
superiors, and trust shown by superiors are only moderate and remain unchanged from previous years.
Given the importance of trust, any lack of it has broad negative impacts on leadership, unit climate, and
unit readiness. Similar to trust, about two-thirds of respondents agree that standards are upheld, that unit
leaders allow or encourage members to learn from honest mistakes, and that unit members are empowered
to make decisions pertaining to the performance of their duties.

Related to issues with personnel or manning shortages for unit preparedness, CASAL results indicate
high workloads continue to be an issue for a majority of uniformed leaders and Army civilians. Over half
of AC and RC leaders (61% and 55%, respectively), and 76% of Army civilians characterize their current
workload as high or very high. In addition, one-third of AC leaders (34%) and Army Civilians (32%)
report stress from a high workload as a serious or significant problem. Stress from a high workload is one
of the significant unit characteristics that contribute to whether a unit is prepared to perform its primary
mission. To address these findings, additional resources and support should be provided to leaders on how
to prioritize and manage workloads. Leaders should serve as a buffer to subordinates, provide clear and
consistent guidance on priorities, as well as delegating and developing subordinates to prepare them to
handle increased responsibilities. However, it should be noted that leadership behaviors only explain a
small portion of the variance in respondents’ perceived stress from a high workload. Other factors, such
as insufficient personnel, time constraints, and lack of resources, have been noted by respondents to
contribute to their perceptions of workload stress.

Attitudes Toward Assigned Duties and Engagement

Despite the modest views on command climate and trust, higher percentages of Army leaders hold
favorable attitudes toward the performance of their assigned duties. Strong commitment remains among
the most favorable findings in CASAL, with over 90% of Army leaders agreeing they are committed to
their team or immediate work group. Over four-fifths of leaders believe their assigned duties are
important to the unit or organization (84%) and know what is expected of them in their positions (82%).
Engagement represents the level of commitment leaders have for their organization and the level of
initiative they apply to their duties. Levels of engagement remain high and unchanged. If directed
appropriately, senior leaders can leverage high levels of commitment and engagement in their subordinate
leaders and others to enhance areas that need to be strengthened.

Morale, Career Satisfaction, and Intentions to Remain in the Army

Morale is a measure of how people feel about themselves, their team, and their leaders. The
percentages of respondents reporting high or very high morale are moderate and stable. Consistent with
the trend of moderately favorable perceptions for morale, two-thirds of AC and RC leaders are satisfied
with their Army career up to this point. One in five respondents are dissatisfied, which is also consistent
with past years. Intentions to remain in the Army until retirement eligibility or beyond remain strong
(70% AC and 77% RC plan to stay) for uniformed leaders. About one-third of Army Civilians expect to
ascend to a higher level of leadership within the next five years. More than one-fourth of managers (31%)
and first-line supervise (27%) expect to retire within the next five years, creating potential concerns for
knowledge retention, while also creating opportunity for lower-level civilian leaders to assume new levels
of leadership and responsibility.

Together, these findings indicate the working environment within Army units is moderately positive,
and should be maintained and addressed to better support unit readiness. As many of the aspects within
the working environment are strongly related to the quality and effectiveness of leadership, it is important
to examine Army leader strengths and weaknesses.

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Quality of Army Leadership

Leadership Quality in Army Units and Organizations

Unit leadership issues was one area cited most frequently by respondents who indicated that their unit
was poorly or very poorly prepared to perform its mission. Attitudes toward the quality of leadership in
the Army remain relatively positive, with a majority of respondents viewing their superior, peers, and
subordinates as effective leaders. However, more than 25% of respondents view their superiors, peers and
subordinates as not effective. Levels of satisfaction with the quality of military and civilian leadership
remain fairly stable. Larger percentages of Army civilians (67% and 62%, respectively) report satisfaction
with the quality of military and civilian leadership in their unit than do uniformed leaders.

Army Military Leadership

The U.S. Army has long defined leadership as actions to influence people to accomplish missions and
to improve their organizations (ADRP 6-22, 2012e) The Army’s leadership requirements model (LRM)
establishes what is expected of Army leaders. The LRM outlines the competencies and attributes that are
required by leaders, and CASAL results consistently demonstrate that those leadership requirements
significantly predict leader, unit, and subordinate outcomes. Of the 10 core leader competencies and 13
attributes in the LRM, the competencies of Leading Others, Building Trust, and Developing Others, and
the attribute of Sound Judgment are the strongest predictors of the extent to which immediate superiors
meet subordinate expectations. With the exception of Innovation, 75% or more of respondents indicate
their immediate superior is effective or very effective in the attributes; however, less than 75% of
respondents indicate their immediate superior is effective or very effective in all but two of the LRM
competencies, Gets Results and Prepares Self. The trends in leadership competencies show a leveling off
and in some cases a decline in the percentage of leaders who are judged to be effective. In operational
terms, the percentage of effective leaders is at a level where there is risk to mission accomplishment as
judged by the leaders themselves.

Similar to the findings for the LRM requirements, within the area of mission command, less than 75%
of immediate AC superiors are rated favorably on the six mission command principles, with building
effective teams (67%) being the lowest rated. Larger percentages of AC and RC leaders tend to be
assessed as being well or very well prepared to perform or conduct warfighting tasks associated with unit
mission success in comparison to the percentage of leaders who are assessed as effective in the mission
command behaviors.

CASAL results consistently demonstrate that leader effectiveness in the core leader competencies and
leader attributes is significantly related to organizational outcomes, such as cohesion, capabilities, and
discipline of teams, as well as subordinate attitudes that affect mission accomplishment. Prior CASAL
findings have indicated that less than three-fourths favorable responses on leadership behaviors (i.e., 75%
agreement or effectiveness) could mean elevated risk of unit mission failure. Thus, the consistent finding
across a decade of assessment that one in three to one in four Army leaders are not rated effective in most
of the competencies, especially those within the Leads category, as well as all six mission command
principles, signals potential risks to unit readiness.

Army Civilian Leadership

Findings for CASAL indicators regarding the quality of civilian leadership largely mimic the findings
for the quality of uniformed leadership. Less than 75% of civilian respondents assess their civilian
immediate superior as effective or very effective in all but two of the LRM competencies, Gets Results
and Prepares Self. Larger percentages of civilian leaders are assessed favorably on the attributes in

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comparison to the competencies; however, civilian leaders fall short of the three-fourths favorability
threshold on four of the 13 attributes. Civilian leaders are also rated below the three-fourths favorability
threshold (66%-74%) on mission command behaviors. Given the findings for the quality of both
uniformed and civilian leaders and the relationship that effectiveness in the LRM components have on
organizational outcomes and subordinate attitudes, there are ample opportunities for leader development
to make an impact.

Counterproductive Leadership

Counterproductive leadership is defined in Army regulation and doctrine with the intent of describing
leadership behaviors and impacts that are not desired and not to be tolerated. Counterproductive
leadership involves conduct that decreases followers’ well-being and undermines unit functioning. This is
reflected in any leadership activity or attitude that goes against the desired outcomes of positive
leadership actions (AR 600-100, 2017c). The presence of counterproductive leadership behaviors in the
Army remains low. Since first assessed in 2012, between 5% and 9% of Army leaders (uniformed and
civilian) have been assessed as exhibiting a combination of counterproductive leadership behaviors.

Findings continue to affirm that leaders who engage in multiple and recurring counterproductive
behaviors are perceived as having adverse effects on command climate; the cohesion, discipline, and
capability of the teams and work groups they lead; and the work quality, engagement, and morale of their
subordinates. Leaders who effectively Build Trust, demonstrate Sound Judgment, Military and
Professional Bearing, and Create a Positive Environment are least often perceived to demonstrate
counterproductive leadership behaviors.

Quality of Army Leader Development

Military Leader Development

The self-development and the operational domains are viewed by uniformed leaders to be effective in
preparing them to assume new levels of leadership or responsibility, while institutional education lags
behind in the percentage of uniformed leaders perceiving it as effective. The favorable perceptions of self-
development, and operational and job experiences differ by rank and leadership level, with more senior-
level leaders perceiving these leader development domains to be effective than junior-level leaders. Time
may play a key role in the perceived effectiveness and impact of self-development. While self-
development is an expectation and a requirement, less than half of uniformed leaders believe they have
sufficient time for self-development in their current assignments.

Leader development practices that are associated with the operational domain have the largest impact
on development. These practices include mentoring, on-the-job training, opportunities to lead, learning
from peers, deployments. The practices rated as having the lowest impact include developmental
counseling from superior, formal leader development in units, 360 degree assessment/feedback, and
distributed learning. However, practices, such as 360 degree assessment, that take a modest investment of
time and other resources can have a beneficial and worthwhile impact on development.

Leaders’ interests in different types of developmental opportunities and their goals for those
opportunities likely depends on where they are in their careers (i.e., their rank group). An understanding
of AC and RC leaders’ levels of interest in different leader development outcomes (e.g., attaining degrees
and certifications, enhancing leadership skills, completing Army education (PME) requirements) can help
inform which outcomes should be made available across a leader’s career, and which outcomes may be
more important at certain phases of a career. Those outcomes in which leaders are very or extremely
interested include preparing for their next likely assignment (82%); improving their ability to perform the
duties in their current position (80%), and enhancing their leadership skills through opportunities for

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increased responsibility (80%). These could be considered universal, as leaders in all rank groups express
interest in continued development in these ways. Other outcomes vary by rank and level of responsibility;
for example, larger percentages of junior NCOs express interest in all leader development outcomes,
including attaining degrees or certifications, and completing PME requirements, compared to other ranks.

Civilian Leader Development

As with uniformed leaders, a larger percentage of civilian leaders view self-development and their job
experiences to be effective in preparing them to assume new levels of leadership or responsibility in
comparison to institutional education. Time for self-development appears to be a greater concern for
civilian leaders, as only 38% perceive they have sufficient time for self- development in their current role.
The perceived amount of time needed for self-development is influenced by leaders’ interpretation of
what comprises self-development, and civilian leaders often consider mandatory training as part of their
self-development.

As only one-third of managers and first line supervisors expect to be serving in a higher level of
leadership (in the Army) five years from now, this may limit civilian leaders’ perceived need or interest in
leader development. For those civilian leaders who do expect to advance to a higher level of leadership,
they may approach leader development with greater motivation and a growth mindset. CASAL findings
support this premise. Civilian leaders who anticipate being at a higher level of leadership five years from
now are significantly more likely to have favorable perceptions of self-development, institutional
education (including distributed learning), multi- source 360 degree assessment feedback, and mentoring.

Leader’s Role in Development

Leaders’ effectiveness in the Develops Others competency encompasses behaviors such as providing
performance counseling and informal feedback to help subordinates improve their current skills and
prepare for future assignments. Based on CASAL results, performance counseling is inconsistently
applied by Army leaders and tends to be perceived as having small to no impact on leaders’ development.
Informal feedback, on the other hand, is provided at least occasionally by most superiors. This type of
feedback tends to focus more on performance of duties and less on how to improve or prepare for future
responsibilities. In a survey of over 25,000 global leaders, Sinar and colleagues (2018) found that when
75% of performance management discussions were focused on development planning, leader engagement
and retention increased. It is recommended that Army senior leaders seek to foster a feedback culture
where leaders provide feedback that is more focused on development, but also encourages leaders to
solicit feedback from others rather than expecting or waiting for superiors to provide feedback.

While mentoring is the leader development practice that is consistently rated by the most respondents
as having a large or great impact on their development, just over half of AC and RC leaders (54-59%) and
28% of Army Civilians report they currently receive mentoring. Mentoring can be especially beneficial
for junior leaders, but less than half of junior-level uniformed leaders report having a mentor (42% of AC
company grade officers and 46% of junior NCOs).

This finding is especially concerning when it is considered alongside the finding that only 58% of
leaders are rated effective or very effective in developing subordinates. If leaders are not being effectively
developed by their immediate superiors, one way to fill the gap would be for these leaders to seek
development from someone else such as a mentor. However, CASAL results show that those junior
leaders who rate their superior ineffective on the competency Develops Others are also less likely to have
a mentor. Continuing to foster and promote informal mentoring relationships by removing actual and
perceived impediments (e.g., access to senior leaders) and misconceptions (e.g., a mentor must have
experience in the same career path that a mentee desires) about mentoring can help address this.

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Army Education

Courses and schools continue to be viewed as providing a good quality of education with effective
instructors. However, there are mixed results regarding the degree of rigor and challenge that courses
pose to leaders. Fifty-eight percent of recent graduates rate their most recent course effective or very
effective at improving their leadership capabilities. While all courses are viewed effective in preparing
leaders for teamwork, most junior- to mid-level courses show some room for improvement in preparing
leaders for various other characteristics of effective leadership (e.g., developing subordinates, influencing
others, taking action in the absence of orders, being technically and tactically proficient). Findings
suggest leaders’ operational assignments are perceived by their subordinates to be well prepared to
perform a range of warfighting tasks in support of large scale combat operations. Yet, smaller percentages
of leaders in these same ranks attribute their proficiency in these warfighting skills to the learning that
occurred at their most recent course/school.

Institutional education tends to be an undervalued and underutilized domain for Army Civilians, with
slightly more than half of civilian leaders having completed a CES course. Recent graduates of CES
courses hold moderate to positive perceptions of their course experience, the quality of the education, and
the value to their development. Courses with a resident component (Intermediate Course and Advanced
Course) are more often perceived to provide quality education, pose challenge to learners, provide useful
and relevant content, improve leadership capabilities, and prepare Army Civilians for leadership. In
contrast, courses conducted entirely via DL (Foundation Course, Manager Development Course) are
assessed favorably on these indicators by smaller percentages of recent graduates.

Unit Training and Leader Development

The priority that units place on leader development remains, in practice, at a moderate level. Yet,
relatively few leaders (about 1 in 3) indicate they are aware of a formal plan or published guidance for
leader development held by their unit or higher headquarters. Army units and organizations tend to rely
on self-development, authorizations for resident school/course attendance, and leader development
programs such as OPD/NCOPD to develop leaders.

Methods that capitalize on the learning that occurs in the operational domain are the ones with
greatest potential positively impact developing leaders. Greater focus could be paid on engaging leaders
in team-building activities or events, emphasizing leader development in collective training, and
providing stretch or developmental assignments. These developmental methods, which tend to occur
rarely or occasionally in units, integrate leader development into already occurring activities in units.

Unit-based training is a means to prepare units for operations and to practice and improve individual
skills of leading and developing others. The percentage of AC leaders rating their unit’s training
conducted in the past quarter as effective or very effective for preparing for future mission success has
decreased by 3% for each of the past two years, and is currently at 50%. Similarly, the percentage of AC
leaders who indicate agreement that unit training is sufficiently challenging to prepare their unit for future
mission success has decreased from 52% to 42% between 2016 and 2018. Perceptions of unit training
effectiveness differ by rank group, with relatively smaller percentages of junior NCOs and warrant
officers responding favorably.

Army results for the Status of Forces Survey (SOFS; Office of People Analytics, 2018) provide
supporting evidence for the gradual decrease in the level of favorable attitudes toward unit training in
recent years. Within CASAL results, poor unit training, and less than optimal levels of technical/tactical
proficiency of unit members were reasons cited by respondents for their unit being poorly or very poorly
prepared to perform its mission. In conflict with these moderate ratings for unit-based training

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effectiveness is the positive finding that 72% of respondents rate their immediate superior as well/very
well prepared to plan and conduct training for tactical operations. A more in-depth assessment of current
unit training practices, specifically to explore junior leaders’ expectations for unit training and where
those expectations are or are not being met is recommended.

The combat training center (CTC) program is the cornerstone of an integrated strategy that builds
trained and proficient combat-ready units and leaders prepared to win in a complex world (AR 350-50,
2018). Fifty-seven percent of AC leaders and more than one-third in the RC (35%) have participated as
part of the training audience at a CTC at least once in their career. Respondents who trained at a CTC
within the past 12 months rate the experience effective for improving their leadership skills (71%); for
improving their ability to lead the preparation, execution, and assessment of tactical operations (79%);
and for improving their unit’s mission readiness (81%). A majority of AC respondents indicate they
received effective feedback about their leadership at the CTC (62%), and 73% noted improvement to their
subordinates’ leadership skills as a result of the experience. More than half of AC respondents indicate
leadership skill improvement was addressed in their rotation’s after action review (AAR; 55%), while
smaller percentages of respondents report leadership skill improvement was addressed between OC/Ts
and unit leaders in one-on-ones (47%), was part of the leader training program prior to conducting
operations in the maneuver training area (40%), or was a training objective for the rotation experience
(39%).

Conclusions

The Army can stand proud that its leaders are committed to their teams and immediate work groups.
Uniformed and civilian members continue to report positive levels of engagement, and intentions to
remain in service to the Army are high. The Army should capitalize on this strong commitment and seek
to enhance leader development, particularly in the areas of institutional education, leader skills in
developing others, mentoring, a culture of informal feedback, and unit training, to increase its levels of
unit preparedness, command climate, trust, and leadership effectiveness. If left unaddressed, the reported
moderate levels in these areas are positioned to impact unit readiness and hinder the Army from achieving
its goal of total force readiness.

.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module I: Deployment Operations

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Reading C
Adaptive Leadership: Harold “Hal” G. Moore

Author: H. R. McMaster

In Command in War, Martin van Creveld notes that “the history of command in war consists of an
endless quest for certainty.” In the 1990s, consistent with van Creveld’s observation, initiatives under the
auspices of “defense transformation” sought to achieve “dominant battle space knowledge” to permit
commanders to make the right decisions, target the enemy with precision munitions, and even anticipate
pate enemy reactions. In 1995, Admiral William A. Owens, the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,
predicted that it would soon be possible to “see and understand everything on the battlefield.” The vision
of future war as lying in the realm of certainty rather than uncertainty, certainty, however, is ahistorical,
neglecting the complexity of combat bat and ignoring factors that place certainty in war beyond the reach
of emerging technologies. Recent combat operations in Afghanistan and Iraq have exposed flaws in the
conceptual foundation for defense transformation. Moreover, they have focused attention on the political,
human, psychological, and cultural dimensions of armed conflict, all of which make and keep combat
unpredictable.

Indeed, philosopher of war Carl von Clausewitz’s observation that the uncertainty and complexity of
combat demanded leaders who possessed “military genius” seems as relevant today as it did nearly two
centuries ago. Clausewitz argued that commanders needed intellect, courage, and determination-the three
principal components of military genius-to penetrate “the fog of greater or lesser uncertainty” that
surrounds combat. Effectively demonstrating these three traits would enable a leader to adapt when
confronted with the unpredictable environment of combat.

Lieutenant General Harold G. “Hal” Moore possessed the characteristics of Clausewitz’s military
genius, and as a lieutenant colonel he demonstrated superior adaptability during one of the most storied
battles in American military history, the Battle of la Drang Valley, 14-16 November 1965.

The First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry’s heroic performance at landing zone X-ray in the la Drang
Valley, chronicled in Moore and Joseph L. Galloway’s classic book We Were Soldiers Once . . . and
Young and in the movie We Were Soldiers, revealed the lieutenant colonel’s extraordinary ability to adapt
to the uncertainties of battle against a vastly larger and very determined enemy. In the ensuing action, the
First Battalion killed over six hundred North Vietnamese Army soldiers while losing seventy-nine of its
own troopers. Moore’s preparation for command, especially his development of the ability to evaluate his
environment and make appropriate adjustments, was consistent with Clausewitz’s charge that
commanders must gain a broad understanding of the nature of combat “to illuminate all phases of warfare
through critical inquiry and guide him in his self-inquiry.” Moore’s career-long preparation, combined
with his intellect, courage, age, and determination, enabled him and his battalion to achieve an
improbable victory under uncertain conditions.

As a seventeen-year-old pursuing an appointment to West Point in 1940, Moore already showed signs
of determination and adaptability. Believing his chances of success would be better in Washington, ton,

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DC, than in his native Kentucky, Moore moved to the capital, where he found a job in a Senate office.
Two years later, a Kentucky congressman did offer Moore an academy appointment, but to the Naval
Academy at Annapolis instead of the Military Academy at West Point. Unwilling to give up, Moore
offered an alternative to the representative: if Moore could find a West Point appointee willing to go to
the Naval Academy, would the congressman appoint Moore to the West Point opening? The two
Kentuckians agreed, and soon after, Moore donned a uniform of cadet gray. Through tenacity and creative
thinking, Moore found a way to reach his objective.

After graduating from West Point, Moore continued to develop his intellect as a soldier and leader,
taking advantage of every opportunity to study the art of war. In addition to operations assignments, his
career provided him with opportunities to read and think about the profession of arms. In various
assignments he developed operational concepts for future war, taught tactics at West Point, and attended
the staff and war colleges. He recognized what British historian Sir Michael E. Howard observed was one
of the principal difficulties with which a military professional must contend: “His profession is almost
unique in that he may have to exercise it only once in a lifetime, if indeed that often.”

Moore studied military history as Howard recommended -in width, in depth, and in context. Moore
encouraged fellow officers to “read military history” and to consider broadly how warfare had changed
over time, as well as to study particular battles in detail to gain an appreciation for the complex causality
of events and outcomes. He advocated “visiting battlefields with maps and texts in hand” for that purpose.
Indeed, soon after his arrival in Vietnam, having recently read Bernard Fall’s Street without joy, an
account of French failures in Indochina, Moore and Sergeant Major Basil Plumley visited the site of the
June 1954 Viet Minh ambush that destroyed the French army’s Mobile Group One Hundred along Route
19 west of An Khe and Pleiku. After visiting the battleground, Moore vowed that he would never
underestimate the enemy that his battalion would soon face. Decades later, reflecting on the Battle of la
Drang Valley, Moore acknowledged the importance of his earlier preparation: “Everything I’d learned at
West Point, my service in the Korean War and the study of leadership in battle, I put into action.”

Moore’s study of military history permitted him to place his own experiences in context to appreciate
both their value and their limitations and therefore to better adapt to change. For example, he recognized
that the mainly static defensive operations he experienced during the Korean War were largely the result
of the war’s political context and the lengthy armistice negotiations. After Korea, Moore taught infantry
tactics at West Point, attended the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, and served
at the Pentagon as “a one-man air mobility branch.” In the latter assignment, Moore developed innovative
ideas about future conflict that he would put into practice in Vietnam. He had one-on-one discussions
with some of the most visionary and experienced senior officers in the army, including generals James M.
Gavin and Hamilton H. Howze. Moore helped to develop air mobility concepts designed to increase the
tempo of operations and strike the enemy from unexpected angles, all to seize and retain the initiative in
battle. Even before experiencing the mainly defensive battles in the latter stage of the Korean War, Moore
had experimented with air mobile operations following World War II. As a young lieutenant serving as an
assistant operations officer for an airborne regiment, he planned a series of airborne operations on the
Japanese island of Hokkaido to confirm that operations officer for an airborne regiment, he planned a
series of airborne operations on the Japanese island of Hokkaido to confirm that the Japanese military was
no longer using airfields and other military facilities. Moore bridged theory and practice in the fall of
1964, soon after assuming command of the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, at Fort Benning, Georgia.
The battalion performed with great distinction during the air mobile tests in the Carolinas. After the
Carolina exercises, the army chief of staff asked Moore to teach other officers about the emerging tactics.

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Moore’s early commitment to intellectual development enabled him to earn a reputation as one of the
most innovative tacticians in the army. Although Moore adapted tactics to technological advances, he was
perhaps even more aware of how human nature and psychology contributed to the uncertainties of
combat. Moore’s view of the human dimension of war was consistent with military historian John
Keegan’s conclusions on the phenomenon of battle:

What battles have in common is human: the behavior of men struggling to reconcile their instinct for self-
preservation, their sense of honor and the achievement of some aim over which other men are ready to
kill them. The study of battle is therefore always a study of fear and usually of courage; always of
leadership, usually of obedience; always of compulsion, , sometimes of insubordination; always of
anxiety, sometimes of elation or catharsis; always of uncertainty and doubt, misinformation and
misapprehension, usually of faith and sometimes of vision; always of violence, sometimes also of cruelty,
self-sacrifice, compassion; above all, it is always a study of solidarity and usually also of disintegration-
for it is toward the disintegration of human groups that battle is directed.

Moore’s close reading of military history as well as his combat experience convinced him that “the
personality of a big battle is often formed by small unit actions.” He also knew that, in battle, soldiers
fought primarily for one another. He believed that determination, discipline, competent leadership,
confidence, and cohesion served as bulwarks against fear and unit disintegration. Given the inherent
uncertainty certainty of battle, Moore recognized that these traits would enable a unit to adapt to any
contingency. He therefore set out to develop those qualities in every unit he commanded, including the
First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry.

Through extensive training, a continuous emphasis on discipline, and dedication to excellence, Moore
consciously built an agile unit capable of adapting to unforeseen and difficult conditions. He challenged
his soldiers and units to meet high standards. He used physical training, guard mount, and weekly parades
to instill discipline and a commitment to excellence. He fostered competition between units and did not
permit the display of second-place trophies; in combat, second place is equivalent to losing. Moore even
forbade soldiers to faint during parades and held leaders responsible if their soldiers did collapse.

Moore set the highest standards for leaders under his command. He removed officers who were
unable to meet his expectations but trusted those who proved themselves. Moore spread his adaptive
leadership philosophy by decentralizing, or “powering down” authority to subordinates. He taught and
practiced “mission orders” and encouraged his junior officers to adjust to the unexpected by making
independent decisions. In 1964, just prior to departing for Vietnam, the First Battalion received an influx
of green lieutenants. Moore adjusted by developing a specialized training program to ensure that the new
platoon leaders had the basic knowledge, skills, and ability to lead their soldiers in battle. Because of the
emphasis on air mobility operations, he ensured that all new leaders received capabilities briefings from
experienced helicopter pilots. In training, new platoon leaders often found themselves in command of four
helicopters when conducting decentralized operations.

Moore especially understood the critical role of sergeants in his organization. He told the battalion
that Sergeant Major Basil Plumley ley worked directly for him and him only and charged the sergeant
major with developing the noncommissioned officers. Moore urged his new lieutenants to respect the
experience and knowledge of their sergeants and to learn from them.

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Historian Michael Howard observes that many commanders fail at the beginning of a war because
they “take too long to adjust themselves selves to reality, through a lack of hard preliminary thinking
about what war would really be like.” Moore, however, developed a vision for combat operations in
Vietnam that established a basis for adaptation; his battalion’s training reflected his forward thinking.
During the fourteen months before sailing for Vietnam, his battalion conducted extensive field training
exercises, emphasizing helicopter-borne borne air assault operations and the integration of artillery and air
support. Moore designed training scenarios to include unpredictable situations, casualties, and
extraordinary physical exertion. During the exercises, Moore occasionally declared that a leader had been
killed, pulled the man aside, and evaluated the unit’s response. He believed that “a squad leader must be
ready to command a platoon or the company. While in transit to Vietnam, Moore continued to conduct
classes and chalk talks with his officers. His new lieutenants conducted training with their platoons to
ensure that they understood how the battalion would fight as a team.

Moore designed his training regimen to prepare soldiers and units for the physical and psychological
uncertainties of combat in Vietnam. He understood that battle confidence derived from soldiers’ trust in
their own abilities, in their weapons, in their leaders, and in their unit’s ability to fight together and to
successfully adapt to the perilous and unpredictable conditions of battle. In short, Moore endeavored to
build a “family of fighters.” He strived to develop and preserve a high degree of cohesion in the battalion.
Just prior to departing for Vietnam, in addition to gaining many new lieutenants, the battalion lost nearly
one hundred men because of expiring enlistments. With combat imminent, Moore and his commanders
worked diligently to maintain unit cohesion despite the disruption of losing team members. Colonel John
D. Herren, who as a captain commanded B Company in Moore’s battalion, recalled that the “unit
personality” and high degree of cohesion developed in training enabled the battalion to overcome the loss
of key personnel. Still, the ramifications were significant, affecting the unit from captains down to
riflemen.

As the battalion was deploying to Vietnam, Moore and his staff continued their “hard thinking” about
overcoming the unpredictability ability of battle. Unsure about the specifics of their mission, he and his
officers planned a contingent combat operation designed to secure cure territory for a primary base.
Although never executed, the plan permitted Moore to develop a fundamental understanding of the terrain
and the enemy. He held long discussions with then-captain Tony Nadal, who had already served a one-
year tour in Vietnam as an advisor to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. Nadal, who became the
battalion intelligence officer and later commanded A Company, discussed with Moore the concept of
small, helicopter-borne insertions to conduct reconnaissance. They agreed that when contact had been
made with the enemy, additional forces would rapidly move in to reinforce the effort and envelop the
enemy. Such thoughtful preparation would enable them to exploit opportunities and adapt tactics to
developments on the ground.

Moore possessed an uncanny ability to visualize operations, an ability he worked to develop
throughout his career. As a young captain during the Korean War, he served as a regimental operations
officer and an assistant division operations officer, positions usually reserved for the most talented majors
in the organization. During that time, he seized the opportunity to observe regimental and battalion
commanders. He learned many lessons, including the importance of deliberately studying terrain and
conducting continuous reconnaissance. He also learned to form an accurate estimate of the situation from
thorough terrain analysis, an understanding of his own force’s capability, and an appreciation of the
enemy’s abilities. Moore came to believe that a commander must continuously think ahead and ask
questions. An adaptive leader must anticipate problems and plan countermeasures to preempt them.

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He must also absorb detailed intelligence indicators and revise his estimate of the situation to anticipate
enemy actions. Later Moore would give the following advice to commanders: “When there is nothing
wrong-there’s nothing wrong except-there’s nothing wrong! That’s exactly when a leader must be most
alert.”

As the First Battalion sailed toward Vietnam, Moore continued to read and think broadly about
combat. Captain Nadal brought with him a footlocker of books on Vietnam and counterinsurgency
operations. Moore read a third of those books while in transit and held discussions with his officers on a
wide range of subjects relevant to their mission. Although those readings did not provide specific tactical
solutions, they did inform him on the broad aspects of the mission and the nature of the enemy his
battalion would face in Vietnam. Such self-education was consistent with Clausewitz’s philosophy.
Reading and study do not provide a leader with a “manual for action” but rather a means to “light his way,
train his judgment, and help him to avoid pitfalls.” In preparation for Vietnam, and across his career,
Moore consciously built an intellectual foundation for command. His experience and thinking about war
drove his commitment to extensive training, informed the decisions he made in battle, and prepared him
to cope with the uncertainties of combat.

After emphasizing the “great role intellectual powers play in the higher forms of military genius,”
Clausewitz turned his attention to courage, which he described as the “soldier’s first requirement.” He
further defined two types of courage: physical “courage in the face of personal danger” and moral
“courage to accept responsibility.” With advances in communications and transportation technology, an
argument often emerges that it is advantageous for leaders to command from locations remote from the
battlefield. Advocates of command from the rear believe that physical courage is no longer a vital quality
for a commander; distance from the front provides a dispassionate ate and more comprehensive view for
decision making. Moreover, they contend, reduced personal danger is an advantage because of the
demoralizing effect a commander’s loss might have on his soldiers. Moore staunchly opposed the practice
of command from the rear. He agreed with British major general J. F. C. Fuller’s assessment of “chateau
generals” in World War I:

A fallacy, which may be largely traced to the telephone, is that the further a commander is in the rear of
his men, the more general a view can he obtain, because he will be less influenced by local
considerations. It is a fallacy because, within certain limits, the further he is away from moral actualities,
and unless he can sense them he will seldom be able fully to reason things out correctly. But supposing
him to be a man who cannot control his emotions, and one so influenced by local conditions that they
obliterate his intelligence, that is supposing him to be a thoroughly bad general, he will not avoid bird’s
eve views twenty miles to the rear. For if he does so, on account of his limited self-control he will be as
strongly influenced by the rear atmosphere and all it will convey to him, as he would have been by the
forward atmosphere had he remained forward to breathe it.

Moore recalled that the single most important lesson he learned from studying effective commanders
could be summarized in four words: “Lead from the front!” At a time when many commanders believed
that the helicopter was the ideal command platform because it afforded a broad view of the battlefield,
Moore argued that his duty as commander required him to be forward with his men. He needed to set the
example, to share the hardships and dangers, and to assess the situation before making decisions. He
explained, “Some commanders used a helicopter as their personal mount. I never believed in that. You
had to get on the ground with your troops to see and hear what was happening. You have to soak up
firsthand information for your instincts to operate accurately. Besides, it’s too easy to be crisp, cool, and

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detached at 1,500 feet; too easy to demand the impossible of your troops; too easy to make mistakes that
are fatal only to those souls far below in the mud, the blood, and the confusion.” Moore accepted the
personal risk. He believed that “any officer or any soldier for that matter, who worries that he will be hit,
is a nuisance. The task and your duty come first.” Moore typically went into battle with his radio operator
on the first helicopter lift. He told his commanders and staff that he needed to be forward “to get the smell
of the fight.”

In the la Drang Valley, Moore organized his staff to maintain a comprehensive estimate even as he
remained forward. Captain Gregory “Matt” Dillon operated a tactical command post, often from a
helicopter with other critical officers, including the fire support officer, the forward air controller, and a
liaison officer from the helicopter lift unit. While Dillon and others of the command post ran the
operation, issuing orders and coordinating fires and logistics, Moore focused on command. His
commanders and staff knew to provide candid assessments and recommendations to inform his estimates
and decisions. An effective commander, Moore believed, needed at least “one or two people under you
who are totally trustworthy-who will be honest with you when you are going off track on an issue or
situation.” Indeed, Moore considered respectful dissent “the essence of loyalty.” For candid advice as a
battalion and later brigade commander in Vietnam, Moore relied most heavily on Captain Dillon, his
operations officer, and Sergeant Major Plumley.

Even in intense combat, Moore remained calm and made time to evaluate the situation. He recalled
that “in battle, I periodically detached myself mentally for a few seconds from the noise, the screams of
the wounded, the explosions, the yelling, the smoke and dust, the intensity of it all and asked myself what
am I doing that I should not be doing and what am I not doing that I should be doing to influence the
situation in my favor?” Sergeant Major Plumley described “the old man” as a “thinker” who was “always
thinking about what was going to happen.” As Major General Fuller declared, “A man who cannot think
clearly in a bullet zone is more suited for a monastery than the battlefield.” Moore was suited for the
battlefield. Courage, and the self-composure that it produces, is an essential trait of adaptive leadership.

Clausewitz’s third quality of military genius, determination, derives rives from, “first, an intellect that,
even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth; and second, the
courage to follow this faint light wherever it might lead.”” This combination of intellect and courage
gives great commanders the coup d’oeil that allows “the quick recognition of a truth that the mind would
ordinarily miss or would perceive only after long study and reflection.” This ability to assess rapidly and
accurately a given situation is the essence of adaptability. Captain Nadal believed that Moore was able to
sense the appropriate course of action because he recognized the “truth” of a situation; “he knew the
nature of a fight.” Moore knew that, no matter how long he took to contemplate plate decisions, he would
never have all the information or time to remove uncertainty and risk from command in battle. He
considered the initial plan for an operation as merely a “springboard into action,” after which interaction
with the enemy and unanticipated conditions would demand quick decision making and flexibility to seize
and retain the initiative. Moore would later advise commanders to “trust your instincts. In a critical, fast-
moving battlefield situation, instincts and intuition amount to an instant estimate of the situation. Your
instincts are the product of your education, training, reading, personality, and experience.” Clausewitz
believed that determination was necessary to “limit the agonies of doubt and the perils of hesitation when
the motives for action are inadequate.” Similarly, Moore declared that “if my head tells me one thing and
my gut tells me something else, I always go with my gut.” Moore’s performance as commander revealed
that he indeed possessed the fortitude of mind and character to permit the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry
to defeat a much larger, well-trained, and determined enemy.

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Although it is beyond the scope of this essay to recount the Battle of the la Drang Valley in its
entirety, a brief analysis will demonstrate how Moore’s preparation of the battalion paid off under fire and
how Moore’s military genius-his intellect, courage, and determination-manifested itself in his and his
battalion’s ability to adapt to the exigencies of battle.

Moore’s anticipation of the mission in la Drang Valley and his preliminary commander’s estimate of
the situation served as the foundation for his adaptive decision making during the battle. On 12 November
1965, the assistant division commander, Brigadier General al Richard Knowles, visited Moore and
mentioned that he would not object to a battalion-sized operation in the la Drang Valley near the
Cambodian border. Moore and his staff immediately initiated a map study of the area. Moore recalled that
he “ran an endless string of `what ifs’ through my mind,” including “what I could do to influence the
action if the worst-case scenario came to pass.” He concluded that he would have to be forward to assess
the situation and make rapid decisions. Moore would be the first soldier on the landing zone.

At 5:00 PM on 13 November, Moore received a warning order. The battalion responded immediately
by consolidating forces in preparation for the operation. Within five hours the battalion completed all
necessary preparations. Meanwhile, Moore and his staff formulated a tentative battle plan and arranged
for an aerial reconnaissance. Early the next morning, Moore himself conducted the reconnaissance as
artillery batteries moved into supporting positions. Moore returned to his command post after selecting
the site for landing zone X-ray. He issued only a brief verbal order: the landings would begin at 10:30
AM. Moore recognized that this large, complex operation would be different from the smaller, company-
sized operations the battalion had been conducting. The battalion’s ability to adjust effectively on short
notice to a new mission was a product of its intense air mobility training conducted at Fort Benning and in
the Carolinas. The battalion’s officers and sergeants knew how to prepare for the operation and how to
fight. A lengthy written order was unnecessary.

Preliminary intelligence indicated that the battalion was headed for battle with a substantial North
Vietnamese force. The aerial reconnaissance naissance Moore ordered identified communications wire
crossing a trail just north of the planned landing zone. Intelligence collectors also intercepted a radio
transmission emanating from the Chu Pong massif, a large mountain located just west of the landing
zone. The transmission, in Mandarin, indicated a large, well-organized force. Moore used those scraps of
intelligence to revise his estimate of the situation. Upon arriving at the landing zone, he immediately
made adjustments to the plan. He carefully surveyed the terrain. His attention was drawn south and west,
where the enemy could use concealed routes to approach the landing zone. He ordered a shift in B
Company’s mission-an intensification of its reconnaissance to the west of the landing zone on the far side
of a creek bed. Shortly after moving out, B Company captured a prisoner who indicated that
approximately proximately 1,600 North Vietnamese soldiers were located on the Chu Pong massif and
they “very much wanted to kill Americans.” At the outset of the fight, the 160 U.S. soldiers who had
arrived at the landing zone faced an enemy force ten times that size.

Soon B Company was in contact with the vanguard of an enemy force moving toward the landing
zone. B Company’s mission was to establish contact with the enemy and “hit him before he could hit us.”
Moore understood the criticality of the terrain. He also had a sense of time and timing. He needed to get
the rest of the battalion into the landing zone and control enough ground to establish an effective defense.
“Only if we brought the enemy to battle deep in the trees and brush,” he recalled, “would we stand even a
slim chance of holding on to the clearing and getting the rest of the battalion landed.” The commander of
B Company, Captain Herren, believed that if Moore had not adapted his tactics and ordered the

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reconnaissance mission on the far side of the creek bed, and if B Company had not “hit the enemy head-
on,” the North Vietnamese would have moved unimpeded to the landing zone and might have
overwhelmed the battalion’s lead elements.

Moore made other critical decisions as the fight developed, analyzing and then prioritizing actions.
He knew that the landing zone was key terrain that had to be defended. He told A Company commander
Captain Nadal that “the original plan was out the window.” Instead of conducting reconnaissance to the
west, Nadal’s company would establish defensive positions to block the attacking enemy. Nadal thought
that Moore’s early decision to send B Company to make contact with the enemy and his subsequent
decision to employ ploy A Company in defensive positions “combined aggressiveness with sound
judgment.”51 When Moore received word that one of B Company’s platoons had been cut off, he resisted
the temptation to organize an immediate relief effort. Captain Herren maintained that if Moore had
committed the remaining companies piecemeal into an offensive relief operation, “the LZ [landing zone]
would have been overrun and the integrity of the battalion threatened.”

Moore’s forward location and his ability to make decisions under der uncertain conditions were
paramount to the battalion’s survival. Captain Nadal’s A Company soldiers were in heavy contact with the
enemy as soon as they occupied defensive positions. The operations officer, Captain Dillon, who was in a
helicopter command post, recalled called that none of the factors on which Moore based his early
decisions were discernible from the air.

Moore knew that in rapidly changing circumstances, a commander had to “be ahead of the game, be
proactive not reactive, see the trends and have confidence in [his] vision.” Over the next two days, he
made a series of decisions that anticipated enemy actions. Benefiting from his Korean War experience,
Moore strengthened defensive positions where he believed the enemy perceived weakness. Unable to be
strong everywhere, he accepted risks elsewhere. He applied artillery and aerial fires at critical times and
locations. On the second morning of the battle, he formed a reserve and employed it at the critical place
and time to defeat a determined enemy attack.

Moore also understood that under intense battle conditions he had to do more than make the right
decisions; he had to project a calm, positive presence before his soldiers. A desperate fight was
developing, and Moore’s forward location and the calmness with which he commanded inspired
confidence among his soldiers. When Herren’s platoons were cut off, Moore deliberately organized
artillery and air support. At the most trying moments-when casualties mounted, when the enemy
penetrated the defenses, when friendly fire impacted inside the perimeter-Moore remained calm. For
Moore, an adaptive commander must exhibit his determination to prevail no matter what the odds or how
desperate the situation … [and] display the WILL, TO WIN by his actions, his words, his tone of voice on
the radio and face to face, his appearance, his demeanor, his countenance, the look in his eyes. He must
remain calm and cool. NO fear. [He] must ignore the noise, dust, smoke, explosions, screams of the
wounded, the yells, the dead lying around him. That is all NORMAL! [He] must never give off any hint
or evidence that he is uncertain about a positive outcome, even in the most desperate ate of situations.
Again, the principle which must be driven into your own head and the heads of your men is: Three strikes
and you’re NOT Out! There is always one more thing you can do to influence any situation in your favor.

In other words, the commander must be determined to identify alternatives and adapt. Moore was
confident that “training and dogged determination, tenacity, and willpower can turn the tide of battle.” He
believed that “if you think you might lose, you have already lost, in whatever enterprise you are involved

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in.” During a lull in the battle, Moore walked the perimeter to look every soldier in the eye, to assess their
morale, and to steel their resolve. Moore struck a balance between the desire to be directly involved in the
fight and the need to think clearly and anticipate the next action. He decided, for example, against moving
with B Company deep into the forest lest he “get pinned down and become simply another rifleman.” His
operations officer managed the fight, but when necessary, Moore intervened. He later recalled that “until
the LZ went hot, Matt Dillon and Mickey Parrish had controlled all the flights into X-Ray from the
command chopper overhead. No more. I took control because only I knew where my men were, where the
enemy ground fire was coming from, and where the safest spot to land was at any given moment. From
this point forward, every helicopter coming into X-Ray would radio me for landing instructions.” Just as
he developed a sense for the next enemy action, he also knew when to intervene.

In retrospect it is clear that Moore’s personal preparation for command and his preparation of the
battalion were keys to the unit’s success in the la Drang Valley. His soldiers and leaders took initiative
and demonstrated the courage, determination, confidence, and adaptability necessary to overcome the
confusion and fear of battle. As they had done in training, soldiers assumed the responsibilities of those
who fell. For example, leadership of B Company’s “lost platoon” passed from the platoon leader to the
platoon sergeant, to a squad leader, and ultimately to Sergeant Ernie Savage. During those three
November days, there were countless other instances of extraordinary heroism and leadership.

While Moore displayed the adaptability inherent in the intellect, courage, and determination of
Clausewitz’s military genius, it is clear that Moore possessed another quality: love for his fellow soldiers.
Although though he remained calm and unemotional during the battle, Moore showed emotion when he
talked after the battle about his deep respect and affection for his troopers. He had vowed never to leave a
fallen trooper behind, and he made good on that promise. He and his wife, Julie, did all they could to
comfort the families of those who fell in battle. Moore, along with battlefield reporter Joe Galloway,
honored the courageous troopers who fought in the la Drang Valley by telling their story in We Were
Soldiers Once, one of the most compelling and moving accounts of men in battle ever written.

Moore’s performance as an adaptive leader was brilliant. He later commanded his own brigade in
Vietnam with great distinction and led his soldiers in highly successful operations. After the war he
continued to set the standard by building disciplined and effective units as the commander of the Seventh
Infantry Division in Korea and the commander of Fort Ord, California. As the army deputy chief of staff
for personnel, his last position in the army, and in retirement, he remained a great teacher who inspired
future generations of officers and soldiers. He communicated his message of “good, simple leadership” as
well as his love for the American soldier. He lived his own advice: “No matter how high in rank you go,
never forget to keep instructing and talking with officers where the rubber meets the road.” It is
impossible to gauge the influence of a man who was such a successful field commander and a great
inspiration to so many. His influence spanned generations in the U.S. Army. Tony Nadal testified to
Moore’s integrity, his professionalism, his dedication to his family, and his genuine concern for others. He
called Moore his “role model for life.” Ernie Savage described Moore as a man of “personal, al, moral,
and spiritual courage.” After Moore spoke to the senior class at the U.S. Military Academy in 2002, one
cadet remarked that Moore made him “feel proud [of] becoming an officer and entering into the Army as
a profession.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: The Art of Command /Module 1: Deployment Operations/

L412: Developing Leadership Capacity

L412: Optional Reading A
The Learning Organization Primer

Author: Dr. Kevin E. Gentzler

Introduction

Change comes to organizations for two primary reasons. Many organizations change due to some
internal factor which forces new processes or systems on the organization. An example might be new
leaders in senior positions or adopting a new human resource management system. Alternatively, outside
factors or influences can cause an organization to change, such as increased competition or a new,
cheaper product or invention which requires the organization to adapt to a changed market. Becoming a
learning organization is, for most organizations, a change. Internal or external influences can create the
impetus necessary for the leaders of an organization to see the need to improve organizational learning
and the individual learning necessary to support it. The concepts involved in developing a learning
organization are more than checklist deep. Leaders cannot put up posters with a proverb or phrase and an
inspirational picture and point to that as the tool to become a true learning organization. There is no
specific path to follow to become a learning organization. In fact, some practitioners believe the idea of
“becoming a learning organization” is not accurate because all organizations learn all the time suggesting
that there is no need for the learning organization construct. Regardless of these difficulties, the idea of
becoming a learning organization is still appealing to many leaders and it is a popular way of addressing
change across business, government and educational organizations. One thing is certain, developing a
learning organization takes time, energy and commitment from the leaders and the willingness to upend
current practices for something some leaders consider a better way to operate. This paper is a primer for
the concept of the learning organization (LO). Presented below are LO concepts primarily taken from four
authors, all of whom have contributed to understanding organizational learning and learning organizations
over the past 30 -plus years, Chris Argyris, Edgar Schein, and Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis. The
intent of this primer is to provide leaders with some tools to improve their thinking and understanding of
what a LO is and how to develop a LO.

A Learning Organization is…

The concept of a LO is broad and within academia and business there is no single definition or
method of development that act as standards for creating a LO. Some practitioners and many academics
feel the LO is the highest or best form of organizational development. Many of these same people have
differing views of what a LO is, why it exists and how a learning organization is developed. There are a
number of competing definitions that are presented for a LO. Peter Senge, the most prominent advocate of
the LO, defines LOs as “…organizations where people continually expand their capacity to create the
results they truly desire, where new and expansive patterns of thinking are nurtured, where collective
aspiration is set free, and where people are continually learning to see the whole together.” This is clearly
a definition written to inspire people and make the leader feel good about the direction of change. Other
authors have also put forth definitions of learning organizations. One definition comes from Garvin,

Go to Table of Contents

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Edmundson and Gino and their work on developing a tool to help leaders bring about the elusive LO.
According to Garvin, et al,

A learning organization is a place where employees excel at creating, acquiring, and transferring
knowledge. There are three building blocks of such institutions: (1) a supportive learning environment,
(2) concrete learning processes and practices, and (3) leadership behavior that reinforces learning.

In 2008 Garvin and his co-authors Amy Edmondson and Francesca Gino argued that the LO ideal
was not yet achieved by many organizations. Garvin and his co-authors developed a tool to assess the
organizational learning. This tool, the learning organization survey, is based on the above definition
which included what they termed the building blocks of a LO. Because the definition is concise and
includes the building blocks necessary to measure success, this definition is one that military leaders can
use to develop LO. There are three building blocks mentioned in the definition, a supportive learning
environment, concrete learning processes and management that reinforces learning. Each building block
has a list of associated characteristics that, when used in assessing the state of the organization, could
indicate if a LO exists. The definition and building blocks that Garvin and his peers developed are very
well aligned with the major ideas found in the remainder of this paper. From this point we will describe
the development and importance of single and double loop learning as an organizational learning process;
discuss the influence of organizational culture on learning; and the final section will provide some
methods and techniques a leader can use to lead the change necessary to become a LO.

Argyris and Organizational Learning

Chris Argyris was a scholar and author who was instrumental in developing ideas about how
organizations learn, specifically developing the twin concepts of single and double loop learning. Argyris
defined two reasons for organizations to learn. First, learning occurs when the outcome of an operation or
project matches the desired or expected result. In this situation existing knowledge is confirmed,
reinforcing the current state. The organization learns that the existing process does produce the desired
result and, in some cases, a best practice is established. However, learning also occurs when there is a gap
between the desired result and actual result. The organization learns that the process does not produce the
desired result. At that point, someone must decide to change the process or system to achieve the desired
end-state or outcome. The learning occurs when a change is applied to the system and the outcome is
assessed. The desired result may not occur after the first change or even the second. Multiple attempts or
changes might be necessary to achieve the outcome expected by the organization. Learning takes place at
the end of each attempt as the individuals involved in the process and acting as part of an organization,
compare the outcome to the desired result and either reject or accept the changes. The individuals learn
what produces the desired result and what does not. Learning has occurred in the organization because
someone identified a gap and then found a solution through adjusting a system or process to fix that gap
or mismatch between the desired result and what was actually produced. This is known as single-loop
learning.

Argyris’ also described another type of organizational learning, double-loop learning. This also
involves the review of actual outcomes compared to desired outcomes. However, instead of only
changing how the system or process functions double-loop learning involves reviewing and changing the
“governing variables” that were used to develop the system or process, to overcome the mismatch and
then produce what was intended or achieve the desired outcome. A governing variable is what the actors
are attempting to “satisfice” with the action or process in use. When a leader determines that single-loop

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attempts at change will not result in satisfaction of the need, no matter how many attempts are made with
the existing process, the remaining option is to change the governing variables. By doing so the leader is
creating conditions where all aspects of the organization could be reviewed including such things as
questioning the purpose of the particular process under review, the value of what is coming out of the
processes or systems or even questioning the continued existence of the organization. Double-loop
learning requires group members to lay aside the comfortable and examine the mental models that have
established the culture, the systems and the traditions within the organization. This is not an easy task but
is something that is required at times to make the organization better and more resilient.

Argyris asserts that single and double loop learning are foundational for understanding how and why
learning occurs within an organization. Single and double-loop learning are descriptions of the thinking
process that occurs when doing anything, whether that is producing a widget or operating on a complex,
ambiguous battlefield. People, acting as part of an organization, assess success in meeting a desired result
and then act to either fix the mismatch or continue to the next objective if a match between the desired
and actual outcome exists.

Learning organizations have processes like single loop learning or double loop learning that lead to
change when necessary. These processes are assessment tools that allow learning to occur and are the
primary means of experiencing effective change within the organization, whether acknowledged as such
or not. This leads to the first point of understanding the reader should take away from this short primer –
organizations learn through people who identify matches or mismatches between actual and desired
outcomes and then change a system, process, or governing variables to achieve the desired result.
Ultimately, learning serves as the means to change the organization.

Schein and the Learning Culture

Edgar Schein is a scholar who studies leadership and culture within organizations. His book
Organizational Culture and Leadership, while focused on organizational culture, contains a description
of a learning culture as a specific type of culture that can exist within any group. A learning culture
requires leaders to support learning in an open and obvious manner. His description of a learning culture
is built around specific characteristics that indicate a positive view of learning exists within the
organization. These characteristics could be used as an assessment tool to determine if a learning culture
exists.

Culture “guide(s) and constrain(s) the behavior of members of a group through the shared norms that
are held in that group.” This is particularly applicable to how the group makes decisions and solves
problems because both are behaviors necessary to the success of the group. Schein defines culture as: “a
pattern of shared basic assumptions learned by a group as it solved its problems of external adaptation and
internal integration, which has worked well enough to be considered valid and therefore to be taught to
new members as the correct way to perceive, think and feel in relation to those problems.”

Schein’s major emphasis is organizational culture not learning. But the concepts he describes in the
levels of culture can also apply to a leaning culture. Schein presents three levels of organizational culture
analysis, artifacts, espoused values and beliefs, and basic underlying assumptions. When comparing
organizational culture to the idea of a learning culture it is safe to assume that the three elements will be
different.

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Artifacts are the visible level of culture, seen by insiders and outsiders alike. The meaning of the
artifact may not be known by anyone outside the organization. Insiders, though, know the meaning or
function of the artifact because it is tied to the other levels of culture. Artifacts are an expression of the
other levels of culture, even though an individual artifact may serve a functional purpose. Organizational
climate is an example of an artifact and it is not an abstraction that is equal to culture. In a learning culture
the artifacts would likely be items, processes, or procedures that support learning in some manner such as
dedicated classrooms or knowledge management systems.

Espoused beliefs and values are culture elements that reflect learning by an individual or sub-group
and specifically concern how the organization responds to a problem or issue or how to accomplish a new
task. Over time the group learns through shared experiences that produce positive results and solutions to
the problems they face. Once the shared experiences are evaluated for effectiveness and are proven to
work, the process used becomes a shared value or belief. If the value or belief is applied with success over
time it may become a shared assumption about future work. These learned responses, proven over time,
provide stability and a level of certainty for future operations and become the underlying assumptions that
are taught to new members of the group or organization. Another way to understand what occurs within
the organization is that the beliefs and values transition from something the group members think about to
problem solving methods or operational techniques that are taken for granted. Espoused beliefs and
values are part of the structure of the organizational culture and may account for how the members of the
organization view learning.

Underlying, or shared basic, assumptions are the basis for the culture and come from the espoused
beliefs and values as they have been proven over time to solve problems. Group underlying assumptions
apply to all members and guide their behaviors in all aspects including how to respond to a problem. As
group members continue to face problems, either internal or external, they look for solutions. Members
rarely look for innovative solutions until the original solution fails and the group falls into a crisis. This is
similar to the ideas of examining the governing variables of a system within double loop learning as
described by Argyris. Even when looking for innovative solutions to stop a crisis, underlying, or taken for
granted assumptions are usually unassailable. According to Schein “…the reexamination of basic
assumptions temporarily disrupts our cognitive and interpersonal world…” This disruption causes anxiety
and forces us to assess the situation in which one finds himself in a different manner or through a
different lens. This is when learning takes place. It is important to remember that these underlying
assumptions were initially suggestions made by a group member or a set of beliefs about proper actions
toward changing circumstances. The suggestions allowed adaptation within the organization for survival
or for improvement. Eventually these suggestions or beliefs were accepted by the group as the way to do
business or to solve problems in the future. In mature companies, the underlying assumptions have been
part of the organization for so long the origination of them has often been forgotten. How the organization
deals with both the underlying assumptions and espoused beliefs and values contributes to the
organizational culture and to learning.

Schein proposes ten characteristics and skills that distinguish a learning culture. The ten
characteristics are a synthesis of his concept of assumptions and beliefs and values and contribute to the
creation of a learning culture within a group. These dimensions of a learning culture are derived from his
experiences in analyzing companies over time and discussions with other experts in this field. A very
brief synopsis of the characteristics follows.

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Proactivity in learning is an essential element within a learning culture. An assumption of proactivity,
that all members are learning all the time, helps prevent complacency and does not allow problems to
grow in complexity or increase a requirement causing a need for immediate change. This is because
proactive groups are out in front of the problems instead of reacting to the circumstances after the fact.
Leaders must set the example in this area and behave in a manner that indicates the importance of on-
going learning to the other group members.

Members of a learning culture “hold the shared assumption that learning is a good thing.” This
assumption leads to learning about internal and external relationships and problems. When learning is
viewed as a good thing, then leaders provide time to learn or reflect for the members. This time of
reflection can contribute to innovative ideas about how to improve what occurs within the organization at
large or to improve individual performance. Another form of learning occurs through feedback about
performance. In a learning culture feedback from leaders, subordinates and peers is seen as a positive
experience instead of something to be feared or avoided. The feedback should be focused on job
performance and occur in a collegial manner. Learning also happens through experimentation.
Experimentation is supported in a learning culture even though the results are not always integrated into
the established systems or processes found in the organization. These examples are a few of the ways
learning is encouraged if “learning is seen as a good thing” is characteristic of the organization or group.

According to Schein, leaders who encourage learning must view people as good and working for the
good of the organization. This perspective results in a belief by members that they are safe, not from
physical harm, but psychologically safe to learn on the job and experiment toward improving the
organization in some manner. The corresponding assumption is that leaders will not punish or discourage
members who innovate even if successful results are not achieved with the first try. Instead, leaders who
encourage learning believe that failure is an integral aspect of the learning experience. Part of
psychological safety is the demonstrated belief of the leader that the environment is manageable, and one
mistake or failure will not irrevocably harm the organization.

A pragmatic search for truth through inquiry is another of the ten distinguishing characteristics of a
learning organization. This is derived from a belief that leaders and members of organizations do not
know all there is to know. By encouraging inquiry, leaders facilitate personal growth and a shared
responsibility to improve each other and the organization by learning more. Learning cultures are also
future focused, looking out ahead of the current system and problems. Pragmatic inquiry and a future
focus require open and honest communication about the current state and the desired future state.
Communication about weaknesses within the context of task-relevant discussions can only occur if trust
exists in the organization across all boundaries.

Trust is key to honest internal reflection and analysis of the organizational culture. Schein states “In a
learning culture, leaders and members believe that analyzing and reflecting on their culture is a necessary
part of the learning process.” This belief supports the development of a commitment to cultural diversity
and a commitment to systemic thinking. If an organization does not believe in cultural analysis to
improve the organization than these two commitments will not occur. Both result from understanding the
need to be critical of one’s self – to look for cognitive biases or blind spots in our thinking that hinder
improvement either in ourselves or in the organization. Once the biases or blind spots are identified then it
is incumbent on the person to make changes to our thinking patterns that eliminate the bias altogether or
mitigate the influence on our judgment and decision-making. By demonstrating this cultural reflection

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and analysis leaders can contribute to preventing counterproductive thinking or misjudging people based
on cultural differences.

The discussion of Schein’s concept of learning culture above does not include the concept of artifacts
as part of the analysis of a learning culture. That is because artifacts do not develop the culture but come
from the other aspects of culture. Artifacts are the aspect of a culture that is easily seen. In a learning
culture, artifacts might include such things as; physical space devoted to learning; encouragement of
group members to attend developmental courses or conferences; time devoted to reflection when problem
solving; a human resource system that promotes and rewards members for learning; and visible
commendations of change agents. Each of these artifacts could be linked to a specific belief, value, or
assumption guiding the behavior of the individuals in the group. The main idea here is that artifacts are a
result of assumptions, beliefs, and values. In a learning culture the value of learning should be on display
through the artifacts of the organization because of the underlying assumption that learning is the best
method to improve the organization and the people within it.

Dibella and Nevis Perspectives on Learning Organizations

So far, this paper contains a description of Argyris’ concept of organizational learning and the
characteristics of a learning culture according to Schein both contribute to our understanding of how and
why learning occurs in organizations. The final portion of this primer will focus on more practical ideas
for implementation that will enable organizational learning and development of a learning organization.

Like Schein and Argyris, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis are scholars and authors whose focus is
learning within organizations. In their book How Organizations Learn, a book written to support leaders
who want to change their organizations, Dibella and Nevis describe three different perspectives of the
learning organization. These perspectives were derived research across the field of study and include clear
links to both Argyris’ and Schein’s concepts described earlier. The graphic below describes the three
perspectives of a learning organization a leader may hold.

Figure 1. Perspectives on the Learning organization, derived from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis, Jossey

Bass, 1998. Chart created by Dr. Kevin Gentzler.

Figure one depicts differing perspectives a leader could hold about learning organizations. There is a
list of characteristics of a learning organization associated with each perspective. Dibella and Nevis
analyzed learning organization literature from many different authors to develop the different
perspectives. While the normative and developmental perspective share some characteristics all three
perspectives are distinctly different especially concerning the time of implementation.

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According to Dibella and Nevis, organizations that strive to become a learning organization do so
through a development process initiated by the leader(s), it is a conscious choice to end up as a learning
organization. The perspectives are important because as the leader attempts to improve organizational
learning and develop a learning organization he or she will approach the development from one of the
three perspectives shown in Figure 1. It is important to note that the perspectives are not all inclusive of
characteristics but are representative of the differences of opinions about how a learning organization
comes to be. A description of each perspective follows.

The normative perspective is, perhaps, the most stringent of the three perspectives. A leader who has
a normative perspective believes all the characteristics listed above are necessary for establishment of a
learning organization. The perspective is considered normative because the leader establishes the norms
of organizational learning and develops a prescriptive learning approach. Proponents believe that if a
prescriptive model is followed by any organization, then the organization will achieve the ideal form and
become a learning organization. The normative perspective requires a standardized or systemic method of
learning and specific leader behaviors that direct what, when and how learning occurs in the organization.
If any of the prescribed behaviors, examples of which are empathetic leaders, openness in
communication, or encouragement of creativity, are not present, then a learning organization does not
exist. Unfortunately, the list of required behaviors and characteristics changes depending on which author
or scholar one reads. The fact that there is no established, proven, accepted list of learning organization
qualities indicates the normative perspective may not be easy to apply in building a learning organization.

Like the normative perspective, the developmental perspective assumes the learning organization is
the highest state of being for any organization or group. A major difference between the developmental
perspective and the normative perspective is when an organization achieves the desired end-state. In the
normative perspective a future state is assumed, and the organization is actively pursuing learning
organization status. A leader with a developmental perspective of the learning organization believes that
organizations grow, from infancy to maturity, into a learning organization through evolution or revolution
or a combination of both. This is a longitudinal or lifespan focus leading to the final phase of
development as a learning organization. The developmental perspective identifies different characteristics
at different stages of life, but there is no specific set of processes or ideas in each developmental phase.
Experience is the great teacher within the developmental perspective and can be reinterpreted as
necessary to improve the organization when the need arises.

In both the normative and developmental perspectives, the learning organization is a status or way of
operating that leaders strive to achieve through setting conditions for learning. That status can be gained
or lost as things change over time. Learning is not seen as a normal, natural occurrence, but something
that must be controlled and directed by leaders under specific conditions established by the leader or
leaders in the organization. If the conditions are not correct, then learning will not occur or operations will
not be optimal until the conditions are corrected or achieved again.

The final perspective of the three is the capability perspective. This perspective is a view of learning
as a normal part of organizational life. In this view becoming a learning organization is not a status to
achieve but is the very nature of “organizations as social systems.” In the capability perspective learning
occurs naturally, is a shared activity, and the repository for the created knowledge is the organizational
culture. There is no best-practice approach or any prescriptive way of learning that must be upheld
according to this perspective. All learning processes that exist in the organization are embedded within
the organizational culture as espoused beliefs and values or underlying assumptions. In other words,

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learning becomes “the way we do things here”. The importance of learning is also taught to new members
of the organization. Dibella and Nevis are proponents of the capability perspective and have expanded on
this perspective by identifying the factors that facilitate learning along with learning orientations or styles
that might be present in a unit as it becomes a learning organization as indicated in figure 2 below.

Figure 2. Facilitating Factors and Learning Orientations of Learning in Organizations. Derived from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis,

Jossey Bass, 1998. Created by Dr. Kevin Gentzler.

These lists, while not prescriptive, do provide insight into how leaders can improve the learning in an
organization which leads to improvement across the board. Each facilitating factor is a behavior by either
a leader or a member of the organization that influences the organizational climate. These factors are
ways to support learning through exhibited behaviors. When leaders behave in a manner that supports
learning, members then view learning as an important activity and will learn on their own and contribute
to shared knowledge within the culture. As we review these facilitating factors we can see they are similar
to the distinguishing characteristics of a learning culture identified by Schein. Both Schein and Dibella &
Nevis see their respective ideas as leader and member behaviors that are present within organizations
when experiential learning is seen as a key method of organizational improvement and growth.

The facilitating factors must be demonstrated by both leaders and members to have an influence on
learning which leads to change and improvement in organizations. The first factor is the scanning
imperative. The behaviors associated with this factor include focusing on how knowledge is gathered
internally while gaining information from the external environment. By scanning the members of the
organization are capable of “…sensing developing problems or opportunities and acting on them early…”

The second facilitating factor is identification of performance gaps. There are two aspects of this
factor, shared awareness of a gap between the desired and actual state of the company and awareness of
the potential for increased performance or effectiveness. Identification of a performance gap occurs when
leaders and members are analyze performance through the use of different tools or models including the
use of feedback mechanisms for individuals and systems. By demonstrating behaviors that are designed to
identify performance gaps leaders set the example for others and support learning through observing and
assessing on-going operations.

“All managers measure performance one way or another…” Performance measurement is nothing
new for military professionals. There are established methods of measuring nearly every aspect of
military operations and performance with the ultimate measure being performance in combat. Military
leaders are concerned about measuring how well units and people can perform assigned tasks and
missions. As leaders assess performance, they will identify learning opportunities. Ensuring that learning
occurs from taking these measurements is where leaders make a difference and begin to build a learning
organization.

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Scanning the environment and internal operations, identifying gaps between a desired and actual
state, and measuring the effectiveness and ability of a unit or group to achieve a mission are all
fundamental factors that facilitate learning in military units as well as other organizations. These first
three facilitating factors are supported by the next factor, organizational curiosity. People in an
organization must be free to experiment or try new things in attempts to solve problems or close gaps in
performance. This is the nature of organizational curiosity. People must be curious about how to improve.
If that curiosity is stifled by a leader who does not support continuous learning or experimentation, no
change will occur. As a result the organization will become stagnate and begin to lose to its competition,
or will suffer failure, perhaps completely disappearing from the landscape. Leaders must support learning
by allowing experimentation and development of organizational curiosity.

The next facilitating factor is establishing a climate of openness. In an open climate the ability to
share information and knowledge is not limited by formal restrictions or informal, perceived exclusionary
practices. Communication barriers are removed, if found. People in the unit have the ability to share
opinions and ideas without defensive behaviors from others, particularly from the leader. This type of
climate is developed as trust between members increases and as leaders demonstrate positive acceptance
of new ideas and opinions. As problems are solved by new ideas that are shared and implemented trust
will increase and the open climate is reinforced and rewarded. At least initially, an open climate requires
leaders to withhold judgment and to refrain from speaking about new ideas in a negative manner. The
more a leader remains quiet, the more information is shared.

Support for continuous education is the next facilitating factor. This factor means leaders should
encourage life-long learning at all levels. Developing life-long learners within organizations requires the
application of resources. By providing time, money and opportunities for members to learn leaders
reinforce the importance of learning in tangible ways. Those resources come back to the organization in
the way of improved performance, new ideas, and the ability to implement what was learned to the
current operating environment.

Operational variety is another facilitating factor which contributes to organizational learning.
According to Dibella and Nevis this factor “…is extremely important factor in organizational learning
capability because it provides an opportunity to understand the implications and consequences of different
ways of working.” By encouraging operational variety the leader is expressing the idea that more than one
method of doing business exists. This will encourage organizational members to think creatively about
how to do a job better, more efficiently or to achieve greater results. Demonstrating that other solutions or
processes are acceptable is a positive way to improve the workforce.

Sometimes to bring change to an organization requires more than one person to lead the charge which
is why Kotter puts forth the idea that a guiding coalition is necessary in change efforts. Dibella and Nevis
describe the role of “multiple advocates” as a “supportive coalition” which is “empowered to act” and
implement changes to systems and processes of learning. Leaders must recruit as many people as
necessary who support learning by bringing “knowledge into the system”. The more people who support
learning across the organization leads to greater acceptance of change and more knowledge shared within
the group. Improvement in the organization will come through accepting change and sharing knowledge.

Developing a learning organization requires the next facilitating factor, involved leadership. Involved
leaders are a key part of acquiring knowledge because those leaders set the agenda for the organization.

L412ORA-85

Leaders must also set the agenda for dissemination and utilization of the acquired knowledge. By being
involved in all three aspects the leaders’ behaviors set the example for others to follow in this area.

The last facilitating factor is adopting a systems perspective. A systems perspective integrates all
other aspects of learning and is what allows the members of the organization “… to identify relationships
among processes, structures, and dispersed actions” across the organization. Without a systems
perspective or systems thinking the learning processes will be limited because the ability to see cause and
effect or understand the consequences of actions will be diminished learning and an inability to effect
change. Organizational leaders should develop a way to implement systems thinking throughout the
organization as a means to improve “dissemination and utilization of knowledge”

Seven Learning Orientations

While the facilitating factors are behaviors the seven learning orientations describe different points of
view about how knowledge is acquired, disseminated, and utilized to improve the organization. Each
orientation is on a continuum with a pair of conditions split out at either end. Leaders should not make a
value judgment about the orientations. The orientations should not be viewed as having a particular value
or something that is either negative or positive, but simply as a way to describe how learning is viewed in
the organization.

For a practical application of this concept these orientations can be used to evaluate the state of
learning in an organization. By assessing the unit along each continuum, a leader could determine if
organizational learning is occurring and how learning is viewed by the people in the organization. The
results of the assessment could be used to improve the acquisition, dissemination and utilization of
knowledge. Ultimately, the act of assessing is a crucial step in reinforcing the learning culture.

Dibella and Nevis developed a method to assess how the acquisition, dissemination and use of
knowledge occurs. They developed a descriptive scale for the seven learning orientations. The scale
allows the leaders to assess each learning orientation against a pair of descriptors that relate to how or
when each orientation is observed within the organization (Figure 3). To use this assessment tool requires
questioning how each orientation is viewed by the group. For example, for the continuum of Knowledge
Source, the question posed might be “From where do we gain our knowledge about our environment and
operations?” The answer would fall along the continuum between either internal sources or external
sources. The answers to the questions could point to how important the leaders’ view learning and
knowledge creation within an organization. If the answers to the questions are contradictory or the
questions cannot be answered clearly, then a shortfall in some portion of the learning process might have
been uncovered. Through identifying a shortfall, the leaders could develop a plan to correct that shortfall
and improve learning processes.

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Figure 3. Organizational Learning Profile. Adapted from How Organizations Learn, Anthony DiBella and Edwin Nevis,
Jossey Bass, 1998, p.104.

By assessing how knowledge is acquired, disseminated and utilized in an organization the true value
the group places on learning is revealed, which will allow leaders to shape future changes and reinforce
the learning culture as they see fit. Below is a brief description of each of the orientations.

Each learning orientation is linked to knowledge management in some manner. Knowledge source is
the orientation related to the source of the knowledge in the group. Specifically, knowledge source
describes from where knowledge is obtained, either internal sources or external sources. Content/process
focus is related to what products or services the organization provides or how they are developed and/or
delivered. Knowledge reserve describes where knowledge resides within the organization. The
orientation, dissemination mode, is related to the processes for moving knowledge throughout the
organization, either through formal or informal processes. Learning scope describes how an organization
uses knowledge to improve current activity or create something new. Value chain focus describes which
is more important, producing something and bringing in new customers or selling/servicing existing
products for current customers. The final orientation, learning focus, is related to using knowledge to
develop individuals or improve the organization.

Understanding how these orientations are integrated and lead to improvements in the organization is
very important to the continued development of learning organizations. Some of these points of view are
clearly related to businesses and commercial activities and may not seem applicable to military
organizations. Those orientations are; content-process focus, learning scope, and value-chain focus. Some
slight modifications to those ideas could make them useful to military leaders. For example, one could
modify the content-process focus and move away from examining what products and services are
produced, or how they are developed, to an examination of what systems are found in the organization
and how those systems are used by the organization. Through this slight change the members of the
organization can learn more about the organization will assessing the usefulness of current systems. This
type of change could apply to the other learning orientations as well. By making small changes to the
three orientations listed above, all seven could be useful to military units and leaders.

Conclusion

Developing a learning organization is a difficult task for any leader. It is a concept supported in U.S.
Army doctrine as an organizational construct that all leaders should strive to achieve and therefore should
be something leaders attempt to bring about. By using the tools and ideas presented in this paper leaders
will have a leg up in establishing a learning culture, development of a learning organization and bringing
change and improvement to their organization. This is not easy work, but, it can be done.

L421

Complexity

AY 2020-2021

L421-88

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

Advance Sheet for L421

Complexity

1. SCOPE

This lesson focuses on the challenges of command within the complexities of war. You examine the

1973 Arab-Israeli War, also known as the Yom Kippur War, through the Cynefin framework developed
by David Snowden. The purpose of the lesson is twofold. The first is to analyze a military case through
the perspective of senior leaders, both military and civilian. The second is to analyze how commanders
might use the Cynefin framework as a systems approach within an operational environment, and apply
critical and creative thinking to understand the nature of problems, determine solutions, and make
decisions. You also learn the importance of having a problem-solving approach within the context of
modern warfare to address unexpected or changing conditions. As a result of this lesson, you improve
your knowledge of the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships between people, events,
and outcomes in a complex, uncertain environment while assessing changes in human behavior within
that environment.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES

Prerequisite learning objective- TLO-CC-1: Analyze organizational concepts used to lead in
developing organizations.

This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger
units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet.

ELO 10.3
Action: Explain how the challenges of determining cause and effect influence situational understanding
and decision-making.
Condition: As a field grade leader at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating within
complex, ambiguous and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the principles of
Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions and block
examination.
Standard: Analysis includes –
1. Explain the challenges of determining cause and effect relationships in modern warfare.
2. Explain sense making in complexity.
3. Explain how decision making frameworks assist commanders.
Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension
PLO 2 Attributes Supported:
a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession.
b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting.
c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership.
d. Meet organizational-level challenges.

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L421-89

e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long
learners.
f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: N/A

b. During Class: N/A

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements

(1) First Requirement:

Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7oz366X0-8&feature=related. This YouTube video

is by David Snowden, the developer of the Cynefin (pronounced kenevin) framework. It provides an
excellent description of the Cynefin framework as background for reading L421RA.

Read:
L421RA: Dettmer, William. “Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework.” Goal Systems

International, 2011. www.Goalsys.com . [40 pages]. This reading has 29 pages of base reading
followed by 12 pages of endnotes and appendices. Focus your reading effort from page 8 to the
first paragraph on page 21. The remainder of the article discusses the development of management
theory over time and is good general knowledge, but not necessarily pertinent to the class discussion.
However, there is no restriction against reading the entire document.

L421RB: Bar-Joseph, Uri Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaws? The Sources of Israel’s
Military Defeat at the Beginning of the 1973 War. Journal of Military History, 72(2). April 2008;
509-530. The Society of Military History [21 pages]

L421RC: Brooks, Risa An Autocracy at War: Explaining Egypt’s Military Effectiveness, 1967
and 1973. Security Studies 15(3). July –September 2006; 396-430. Taylor and Francis. [34 Pages].

L421RD Reed, George E. 2006. “Leadership and Systems Thinking.” Defense AT&L 35 (3): 10–
13.
http://search.ebscohost.com.lumen.cgsccarl.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=20707954&sit
e=ehost-live&scope=site

Appendix A: Maps of the 1973 Arab-Israeli War. Extracts from the West Point Atlas of the Arab
Israeli War. Maps 11a/b; 12a/b &13b.

(2) Second Requirement. Complete the case study worksheet, available in Blackboard with the

L421 advance sheet. This is a study aid. Your instructor explains its use in class. As you complete the
worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently in the role of one of the leaders in the
case study.

(3) Third Requirement. Reflect on these questions as you complete the readings and prepare for

class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

http://search.ebscohost.com.lumen.cgsccarl.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=20707954&site=ehost-live&scope=site

http://search.ebscohost.com.lumen.cgsccarl.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=20707954&site=ehost-live&scope=site

L421-90

How can an organizational leader determine cause and effect relationships in warfare?

What role does judgment play in decision-making and problem solving?

Why does a commander need to understand cause and effect relationships on a battlefield?

How can a commander adequately describe an operational approach and then employ all the
elements of combat power to achieve a desired end state without understanding cause and
effect relationships?

What value comes from determining cause and effect relationships within a given context?
How does that value help the commander or staff improve operational capability within the
operating environment?

What is the difference between a “probing action” and “taking action,” as described by
Snowden? How and when might these be applied in a large-scale combat environment? What
can a commander gain from these actions?

How does a systems thinking approach to problem solving improve the ability of a
commander to operate in a LSCO environment?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access:

L421 advance sheet and readings
ADP 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession
ADP 3-0, Operations
ADP 5-0, The Operations Process

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

During class, your instructor assesses you on the learning objectives for this lesson. The instructor
accomplishes this through assessment of your contribution to learning in the classroom and your
performance on the leadership assessment. As a rule, the quality of your participative effort and
contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than the volume or frequency of your responses.
See paragraph three-assessment plan, of the L400 Block Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed
assessment information.

L421RA-91

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity
L421: Reading A

Systems Thinking and the Cynefin Framework
Author: William Dettmer

ABSTRACT

The evolution of management over the past century, from Taylor and Fayol through Drucker and
Deming, has been a process of continuing search, trial and error, deduction and induction, figuring out what
works, what works better, and what doesn’t work very well at all. There is no shortage of management
methods and tools. However, the preponderance of these are tactical and quantitative. Strategic, qualitative
management aids are considerably fewer in number. Some methods and tools have realized significant
successes in a variety of situations, while failing to meet expectations in others. Until now, there hasn’t
been an obvious underlying principle to explain why.

Systems and their external environments can be classified as simple, complicated, complex, and
chaotic. This taxonomy is known as the Cynefin Framework. It provides an orderly way to evaluate the
interaction of organizational systems, their external environments, and the myriad of management methods
and tools available to decision makers. A significant number of organizations today qualify as complex.
Their environment may change in short but irregular, unpredictable cycles, requiring the organization to
adapt internally accordingly to avoid degradation. But the majority of available management methods and
tools have been designed to succeed in simple and complicated domains, not complex. The failure to
identify and understand the underlying assumptions about these methods made this limitation inevitable.
That is about to change.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF MANAGEMENT

Many volumes have been written on the evolution of management over the last 125 years. It’s not
possible to recount all of that here, nor would doing so really advance the message of this paper. But some
foundation—an anchor for the discussion that follows—is required as a departure point for considering a
new way of viewing management of systems.

Since the days of Frederick Taylor and Henri Fayol in the early 20th century, the evolution of
management has been a continual search for a theory or set of prescriptions that could effectively guide
leaders’ decision making in the widest possible variety of circumstances. The objective of this search has
proved elusive. In most cases, it produced discrete tools or methodologies, usable in some circumstances
though not in others, but not any kind of overarching frame- work that could be useful for the broadest
population of organizational types: commercial, not- for-profit, and government agency.

Of Frederick Taylor, Peter Drucker, perhaps the most prominent management philosopher of the 20th
century, said:

Frederick W. Taylor was the first man in recorded history who deemed work deserving of systematic
observation and study. On Taylor’s ‘scientific management’ rests, above all, the tremendous surge of
affluence in the last seventy-five years which has lifted the working masses in the developed countries

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L421RA-92

well above any level recorded before, even for the well-to-do. Taylor, though the Isaac Newton (or
perhaps the Archimedes) of the science of work, laid only first foundations, however. Not much has
been added to them since even though he has been dead all of sixty years. [Emphasis added]

Drucker wrote this in 1973. Since then the increase in management methodologies has been almost
exponential. Fayol’s contributions were perhaps even more important to modern management. His
functions and principles of management (Figure 1), first advanced in 1917, formed the basis for modern
management thinking that persists to this day. In the second half of the 20th century, Fayol’s original
functions were simplified to five:

Planning

Organizing

Staffing

Directing (or leading)

Controlling

Figure 1. Fayol’s Functions and Principles

These are the basic things that all people with executive responsibility try to do well in order to succeed
in their chosen environment. Both Taylor and Fayol sought to make the management of organizations more
regimented, more standardized and repetitive, under the assumption that operations would be more
consistent, effective, and controllable. Ultimately, such controllability was expected to produce better
overall results.

From the perspective of the 21st century, the organizational systems Taylor and Fayol sought to regulate
seem relatively simple, and largely linear. Even up to the mid-20th century, organizational systems
remained fairly simple, or at most complicated, with a lot of components, but still relatively linear.
Consequently, the standardization and regimentation that Taylor and Fayol sought to realize was relatively
effective for the first half of the 20th century.
Vertical and Horizontal Integration

Throughout the first half of the 20th century, many of the largest companies in America were vertically
integrated. In other words, the same company controlled all elements of the supply chain, from raw material
production through finished product distribution and sales. A good example of a vertically integrated
company was Ford Motors. Ford owned the iron mines in the Mesabi Range of northern Minnesota and the
rubber plantations of South America. Iron ore was shipped on Ford-owned and operated boats to Detroit,
where it was delivered to Ford’s River Rouge steel mill for smelting. The mill was adjacent to Ford’s
assembly plant. Rubber came by Ford-owned ships from South America to Ford’s tire plants. All the
components of Ford automobiles were produced by the company itself. Then the finished automobiles were
shipped by Ford’s transporters to Ford-controlled dealerships. Vertical integration provided corporate
executives what they craved most: control. Vertically integrated companies may have been complicated
and not terribly efficient, but from beginning to end they were firmly under the executive’s control.

Horizontal integration, by comparison, is a strategy of market control in which a company acquires, or
merges with, like businesses (perhaps even competitors) to expand its presence or control in other
geographic or market segments. For example, Delta Airlines’ merger with Northwest Airlines in 2008

L421RA-93

expanded Delta’s reach into routes and markets it had previously not enjoyed. But Delta is still not vertically
integrated—it doesn’t control its own fuel sup- plies, or the manufacture of its airplanes, or even all of the
booking of its passengers.

Through World War II, most major companies were vertically integrated. But in the 1950s and 1960s,
companies began to disintegrate vertically. The advent of globalization following the war created an
exciting new competitive environment, but it was also one that was more uncertain and risky, and less
controllable. Vertical disintegration was a way of reducing risk and becoming more agile, more responsive
to changes in market conditions. Moreover, by narrowing a company’s span of attention to fewer corporate
components, greater attention to efficiency was thought possible.

The Rise of Management Accounting

The increasing influence of “corporate bean counters” reinforced the drive for efficiency.
Bob Lutz, the recently retired vice chairman of General Motors, observed:

the 1950s and ‘60s marked the decline of “the product guy” at GM and the ascendancy of
professional management, often individuals with a strong financial background…and cars were
merely a transitory form of money: put a certain quantity in at the front end, transform it into
vehicles, and sell them for more money at the other end. The company cared about the other two
ends—minimizing cost and maximizing revenue—but assumed that customer desire for the product
was a given…without a passionate focus on great products from the top of the company on down, the
“low-cost” part will be assured but the “high-revenue” part won’t happen, just as it didn’t at GM for
so many years. (pp.41-42)

Not limited to commercial companies alone, the Defense Department of Robert McNamara in the
1960s, with its emphasis on systems analysis—the concerted application of mathematical optimization,
modeling, game theory, dynamic programming, quadratic programming, and cost- benefit analyses—was
accused of knowing “the cost of everything and the value of nothing.”

This exaggerated emphasis on the financial aspects of business management reached a peak in the
1980s with the advent of managerial (or management) accounting. But the chief failing of managerial
accounting is that it’s almost exclusively inward-focused, and what externalities figure into it are almost
inevitably based on assumptions, which, though accepted at face value, are often not verifiable, or even
testable. Once again, Bob Lutz on external assumptions:

The error in the traditional Product Planning methodology is that it crowds out art, creativity, and
spontaneous invention. It assumes that automotive consumers are highly rational people who will
perform analyses and elaborate feature comparisons before making their purchase. As we well know,
they don’t. (pp. 133-114) [Emphasis added]

Analysis versus Synthesis

Exacerbating the rise of “bean counting” is the historical tendency to analyze, rather than synthesize—
to break things down, rather than to integrate them. Since the turn of the 20th century, the accepted approach
to dealing with increasing complexity is to try to reduce it into manageable “bites” and address them in
isolation. This approach is referred to as analysis. We analyze a complex situation or issue by trying to
break it down into component pieces and con- sider each in isolation from the others. This kind of thinking
has its roots in analytic geometry, where one basic axiom is that the whole is equal to the sum of its parts.
Think about that for a moment: The underlying assumption behind this conclusion is that all of the parts

L421RA-94

are essentially independent of one another.

But although this mathematical thinking might apply to bricks and other inanimate objects, it fails when
applied to dynamic, homeostatic, or cybernetic systems —which generally include any organic systems, or
those where human beings have a role. And unfortunately such systems are the ones that exert the most
influence on our lives.

We see the failure of the analytical approach all the time. The Rohr Corporation’s Riverside, California,
plant recorded a 55 percent increase in profits in 1996. Great news, if all you focus on is short-term profits.
When you look at the larger system, you see the reason for that increase is better “efficiency” (meaning
cost cutting) temporarily had a greater impact than the 3 percent decline in sales. Or, as the corporate
treasurer enthusiastically observed, “Costs have come down quicker than our revenue has decreased.” (I’m
sure the 3,500 people laid off at River- side by Rohr in the preceding few years are immensely gratified to
know that!) The Rohr story is a cautionary tale of self-delusion by analytical thinking and management
accounting.

Globalization and Technology

Two other key factors in complicating management in the second half of the 20th century are
globalization and technology.

At the conclusion of World War II, the industrialized world was flat on its back economically, with one
notable exception: the United States. America, one of the few combatants that did not suffer the direct
devastation of war on its homeland, was also the only one with its industrial base not only intact, but actually
at a peak of capability. This industrial base not only pulled America out of the great depression of the 1930s,
but it became industrial supplier to the world as well—at least for the 15 years immediately concluding
hostilities. It can be fairly said that the end of World War II marked the advent of globalization. The U.S.
began selling products overseas, and products from around the world began to appear in U.S. markets. This
trend continued for the next six decades.

During the same period, the pace of technology advancement became almost exponential. The world
“grew smaller” through advances in both communication and transportation. The time to cross the oceans
dropped from days or weeks to mere hours. Air travel became afford- able to the masses. Improvements in
medicine, new discoveries in science (mostly physics and chemistry), and the higher standard of living
these discoveries produced (so-called modern conveniences) all increased the complexity of life as well.
Equipment became far more capable, but proportionally more complicated, too. For example, automobiles,
once the domain of backyard mechanics, now require specialized training and expensive technical
equipment to maintain.

Much of the increase in complexity came with increasing automation and the development of
computers, integrated circuits, and their widespread incorporation (“embedding”) into all manner of electro-
mechanical devices. The most profound advance of all was the introduction and developmental explosion
of personal computers—a seductive capability in search of application. And myriad such uses came out of
the woodwork.

Take manufacturing, for example. What had previously been managed by people with hand- written or
typed reports requiring days or weeks to prepare could now be done with the stroke of a key in a few
seconds, or at most, minutes. Undreamed of economies of scale and efficiencies were possible. Take MRP,
for example.

L421RA-95

Material Requirements Planning (MRP-I) and its successor Manufacturing Resource Planning (MRP-
II) represented the first substantive attempts to computerize, first, production scheduling and material
ordering needs, and second, all aspects of a manufacturing firm. As with other complicated computer
applications that exploded onto the scene between roughly 1985 and 2010, MRP-I/II in many cases became
a kind of “crutch” on which managers came to de- pend, often abdicating their management responsibilities.
(“The computer says ‘replenish,’ so that’s what we’re going to do.”)

Increases in automation gradually phased out manual labor for many tasks. The combination of
increasing efficiencies and the market competition of globalization resulted in cheaper products for
consumers, raising people’s standards of living even more. A collateral consequence of this industrial
“evolution” was the shifting of a large proportion of what manual labor remained out of the country, to
third-world countries with which the U.S. labor force could not effectively compete.

Outsourcing

Another outcome of the never-ending quest for greater efficiencies and competitive edge was
outsourcing. This is a euphemism for “vertically disintegrating,” which was mentioned earlier. Ultimately,
businesses became highly specialized. A classic example is Boeing Commercial Airplanes. It purports to
be an aircraft manufacturing company, and there was a time when this characterization was accurate. But
now, with the quantum increase in product complexity over the past 60 years, “aircraft assembler” would
be a better description. Yes, Boeing still manufactures key structural components of its airliners, wings
being the most significant. But from avionics to flight controls, engines, support systems, interiors, and
even structural components, almost everything is outsourced to specialists all over the world.

Some of the motivation for outsourcing is certainly rooted in the complexity and technology inherent
in the production of components. Rarely does a large-system manufacturer (perhaps better characterized as
a systems integrator), in a rapidly evolving technical environment maintain the capability to also produce
the complex technology inherent in those myriad components. But there are business motivations as well.
In a truly open global market, competition will drive decision makers to outsource based on perceived cost
savings alone.

Vertical disintegration, or outsourcing, is a two-edged sword. The price of cost savings is the creation
of a new kind of complex system of interdependent organizations over which the primary company can
exert only marginal, if any, control. At the same time, the uncertainty and variability incurred in the creation
of such complex networks makes assured control even more problematic. The more connections or links
there are in a system, the greater the chance of variability, or even system breakdown.
THE CHALLENGE

This, then, is the situation. Economies and societies are no longer isolated by nation or region. It’s a global
world, and old, simpler, more linear organizational structures aren’t equal to the challenges such a world
presents. The operating environment is more chaotic, uncertain, and more variable in shorter time horizons.
The common traditional practice of analysis, rather than synthesis often produces sub-optimal solutions to
complex problems. Managerial ac- counting, with its cost emphasis and inward focus doesn’t always
improve the situation. And the seductive tendency to depend heavily on technology, automation, and
information systems frequently causes managers to abdicate their decision authority to “inanimate objects.”
Figure 2 illustrates these contributory factors.

L421RA-96

Figure 2. The Management Challenge

When people don’t fully understand the essential nature of the systems they function in, let- ting the
computer dictate the decision can actually seem reassuring. (“Well, I can’t help it—the management
information system said it was the right thing to do.”)

Computer programs and decision information systems have a common shortcoming that might be
expressed as “garbage in, garbage out.” All that computers do is manipulate data ac- cording to pre-
programmed algorithms. The outcome of the number-crunching depends entirely on the quality of data fed
into the system and the accuracy (or realism) of the programming algorithm.

The Risk of Depending on Decision Support Systems

The vagaries of inaccurate data are well known. Less recognized is the divergence between the
algorithm and reality. No computer can replicate reality exactly. All computer programs of the type that
represent reality for decision-making purposes are simulacra—the “corners of reality are rounded off” to
keep a lid on the computing power required. Consider the equations required to describe a simple system
composed of two objects:

We must first describe how each object behaves by itself—the “isolated” behavior. We must also
consider how the behavior of each body affects that of the other—the “interaction.” Finally, we must
consider how things will behave if neither of the objects is present—the “field” equation. Altogether,
the most general two-body system required four equations: two “isolated” equations, one
“interactive” equation, and one “field” equation.

As the number of bodies increases, there remains but a single “field” equation, and only one
“isolated” equation per body. [But the] number of “interaction” equations, grows magnificently…for n
bodies we would need 2n relationships!

For only 10 interacting bodies, 2, or 1,024 interaction equations would be required. Computers, of
course, can easily handle this level of complexity. But how many interactions are there among variables in
corporate business systems, or climatological systems, or even processes as bounded as manufacturing?

Unless simplifications are made, we run squarely up against the Square Law of Computation: The
amount of computation involved increases at least as fast as the square of the number of equations. In the
case of our 10-body system, those 1,035 equations (don’t forget the ten isolation equations and the field
equation) require a computer at least 1,071,225 times more powerful to successfully solve them in the same
amount of time unless the corners of reality are rounded off (i.e., assumptions holding certain variables
constant are made).

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Since massively parallel supercomputers are not typically available for management use, and since
decision makers are not accustomed to waiting days, weeks, or years for an answer, the obvious course of
action (for computer software and hardware purveyors who actually want their products to be affordable)
is to assume away what appear to be the least influential variables—a judgment call that is never free from
risk.

The conclusion here is that, as constrained as the human brain may be computationally, human
judgment and intuition are indispensable to effective decision making. This is not a bad thing, since, as
Deming observed later in his life, a priori “The most important things are un- known and unknowable,”
and “The most important things cannot be measured.”

A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

Still, humans are tool-making animals. It’s one of the characteristics that distinguishes humanity
from lower life forms. And in the realm of management, decision makers are constantly
searching for newer and better tools. About the same time that the economies began to globalize
and technology began to explode on the scene, new management methods and tools began to
spring up. Some, such as management by objectives, came and went—“flavors of the month.”
Some, such as management accounting, came and stayed. Continuous improvement methods,
sporting a veritable alphabet soup of acronyms such as TQM, QFD, BPR, SPC, MBWA, TOC,
etc., and shorthand terms such as kanban, kaizen, just-in-time, lean, six sigma, etc., have occupied
center stage for more than 20 years.

Unfortunately, the tools and methods in common use are usually discrete, process-oriented,
and useful only within fairly restricted parameters. For example, just-in-time/kanban, designed
for use in production processes, has little or no utility in marketing and sales, or product planning
and development. Attempts to translate some methods into environments for which they
weren’t originally designed, like square pegs in round holes, often disappoint users with their
results. Methods or techniques appropriate to commercial enterprises are often not relevant to
not-for-profit organizations or government agencies.

But our organizations, whether commercial, not-for-profit, or government agency, live or die—succeed
or fail—as whole systems, not as collections of independent processes. And these systems exist in, operate
in, and interact with an external environment that includes other systems and “state of nature” factors that
can be irregular, highly variable, and unpredictable.

Complex problem solving and system improvement thus become somewhat of a crap-shoot. We hope
we choose the right tool for the job at hand, based on our possibly incomplete understanding of the situation.
It’s no wonder that decision makers at every level are searching for a straightforward, reliable approach to
whole-system improvement, not just “process polishing.” Or, a Richard the Third said, “A horse…my
kingdom for a horse!”

THE KEY TO SYSTEM SUCCESS: A SYSTEM NAVIGATION FRAMEWORK

Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ‘em. Little fleas have lesser
fleas, and so on, ad infinitum.
—The Siphonaptera

The key to engaging the apparently intractable problems that beset our organizations, societies, and

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countries is to recognize and understand the concept of systems—or, more accurately, a hierarchy of
systems. Systems thinking is a relatively new domain. Essentially, it’s an approach that views “problems”
as parts of an overall system, rather than reacting to specific parts, outcomes or events and potentially
contributing to development of unintended consequences. Taking this thought a step further, each definable
system is part of a larger sys- tem, and each system is composed of smaller systems.

Most people have heard the term “holistic.” A holistic system is any set or group of interdependent or
temporally interacting parts. These parts are generally systems themselves and are composed of other parts,
just as systems are generally parts or holons of other systems. Systems science argues that the only way to
fully understand why a problem or element occurs and persists is to understand the parts in relation to the
whole. Standing in contrast to Descartes’s scientific reductionism and philosophical analysis, it proposes to
view systems in a holistic manner. Consistent with systems philosophy, systems thinking encourages
understanding a system by examining the linkages and interactions between the elements that compose the
entirety of the system.

Synthesis versus Analysis

If the traditional analytical approach to management is counter-productive, what’s the alternative? A
holistic, or whole system approach is considerably better suited to the kinds of complex organizations we
usually encounter today. What’s the difference between an analytical and a systems approach? The systems
approach represents synthesis-thinking with an integrated perspective about the whole enterprise. Analysis
tells us how the individual parts function; synthesis tells us how the various parts work together.

Before one can synthesize, one must first analyze. In other words, we first take the system apart (usually
conceptually—it’s not often practical to physically deconstruct the systems we normally work with) to
understand the functions of each link or component. Once the components are fully understood in isolation,
we study the interactions among components to under- stand how the system as a whole functions—the
internal interactions and the larger system’s interaction with its external environment. Understanding the
internal interactions requires integrating the components into something larger and more capable than the
components represent alone. Understanding the external interactions depends on understanding the kind of
system we’re dealing with and the nature of the external environment.

Systems and Environments

At its simplest, a system is represented by some closed boundary between itself and the environment
in which it exists. Within that boundary lie some determinate number of components that interact with each
other in some way. The system takes inputs of some kind from the external environment, processes them
in some way, and produces outputs back into the environment. While this processing is going on, the system

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as a whole interacts in various ways with its environment. Figure 3 illustrates the system concept.
Notice the feedback loops in Figure 3. They represent conscious, active changes to system components
or inputs, based on some assessment of the acceptability of outputs. This system diagram could represent
almost any kind of system, from biological to ecological, or from individual human to organizational or
societal.

However, a system alone is only half the equation. The other influential factor is the context in which
the system operates—some part of the external environment. This environment is populated by innumerable
other systems of all kinds: weather, climatological, ecological, societal, regulatory, political, commercial,
government, financial, economic, international, planetary, astronomical…the list is almost endless. In this
“primordial stew” of interacting and overlapping systems, our system is just one of the pack.

But our system may not interact with all of the other systems in the environment. There is probably a
finite number whose impact on our system can be assumed, even if only estimated. In much the same way
that the cells of the human body are constituted in the form of organs, muscles, nerves, and bones—each
with a limited set of different functional interactions—a system inevitably resides within a comparable
grouping of environmental factors, or what might be called a context.

The Cynefin Framework

Between 1999 and 2003, synthesizing concepts developed by Boisot, Cilliers and others, Snowden and
Kurtz developed the Cynefin framework to help visualize and understand how systems operate within a
variety of domains.

The Cynefin framework posits that the external environment describes a continuum from ordered to
unordered. That continuum is further divided into general contexts, or domains. As characterized above,
these contexts represent the grouping of environmental factors and other systems in which a particular
system functions. Figure 4 depicts this concept. Four of the domains—systems and their associated
environmental factors/systems—are simple, complicated, complex, and chaotic. The fifth domain, pictured
in the center, is disorder. The simple and complicated domains are closer to ordered than unordered.
Complex and chaotic domains are more unordered.

It’s worth noting at this point that the framework, which appears to be a matrix, is not intended to
categorize. Rather, Kurtz and Snowden intended it to be a sense-making framework. What’s the difference?
Most matrices imply some value judgment about which cell it’s better to be in. The Cynefin framework
makes no such assumption, other than that disorder be avoided. Instead, it merely describes domains. The

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chaotic or complex domains are no less (or more) desirable than the complicated or simple, and there is no
particular virtue in attempting to migrate one’s system from one domain to another—“it is what it is.”

The boundaries between each domain are deliberately fuzzy, indicating that there are transitional zones
between them. Typically, a particular system in question will reside primarily in one domain, though it may
occupy a position that puts it at least partially in another zone, or in the transition area. (See Figure 5)

Cynefin’s value as a sense-making framework lies in helping system decision makers understand
approximately where their systems lie among these domains, and by extension, what kinds of tools,
approaches, processes, or methods are more likely to work successfully in a given system. But what do
these various domains really signify?

The Simple Domain

Systems that operate in a stable context characterized by clear cause-and-effect relationships easily
discernible by everyone are themselves fairly well defined and simple or sequential in their activities. The
variability of the environment is narrow. People know what to expect, and each event or action carries with
it a limited number of potential outcomes that are predictable. Uncertainty and turbulence are minimal.
Cause-and-effect relationships are clear and well understood by everyone. “Right” answers are often self-
evident and undisputed. This context might be called the domain of “known knowns” (See Figure 6), and
most decisions are unquestioned because everyone shares a common understanding. Decision makers can
typically sense, categorize what information they gather, and respond directly. Simple contexts are heavily
process-oriented situations typically managed through the application of standard practice. Both managers
and employees have access to the information they need, and a command- and-control style is usually
preferable. Adhering to best practice makes sense, and process re-engineering is a typical tool. Some
examples of systems that would fall into this domain would be automobile repair shops, retail merchandise
stores, fast food restaurants, municipal government departments, church congregations, and help desks that
follow prescribed patterns of questions and answers in responding to common problems.

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The Complicated Domain

Snowden and Boone, who conceived the Cynefin framework, refer to the complicated part of the
framework as the domain of experts. There’s a reason for this. Complicated domains don’t have single right
answers to problems. There may be several effective answers, but while not as straightforward as the simple
domain, in the complicated domain the relationship between cause and effect still pertains, though such
relationships may not be obvious. Whether or not they are obvious depends of the depth of people’s
knowledge about the environment and the system. Variability and uncertainty increase in a complicated
environment, increasing the potential range of problems as well as the number of possible right answers.

In Figure 6, this is the realm of known unknowns: We know the questions to ask, but we don’t know
the answers. Thus, cause-and-effect analysis is only as good as the knowledge of system or environment
that one has available. Fortunately, in the complicated domain that information is usually available
somewhere. It’s usually just a matter of research to find it.

Now, what about the system? While a system residing in the simple domain may itself be simple, it
might also be complicated, meaning it has a myriad of interacting, interdependent parts. This may be less
problematic in a simple domain, but in a complicated domain, the variability is compounded. Complicated
systems may coalesce into “silos” that are highly specialized and require specialized functional knowledge
to operate.

Consider, for example, a large-scale manufacturing company such as an automobile manufacturer.
Specialization renders marketing and sales a function unto and of itself. Industrial engineers would be adrift
there. The converse is also true: marketing and sales specialists would be incompetent to manage production
operations. These functional silos, then, evolve into the domain of experts. Such experts may be internal to
the company, or they may be external consultants. Either way, the preferred approach of most experts is
analysis: the system is taken apart and its component parts examined in an effort to obtain a better
understanding of how the parts function.

Each silo, function, or component of a complicated system searches for, or develops, its own specialized
tools or methods to cope with its obligations and the performance demands made upon it. But because each
of these systemic parts is a process within the overall system, these methods almost invariably favor process
analysis and improvement. Nearly all the tools management has searched for (and used) over the past
several decades can be characterized as process improvement aids. In fact, the philosophy of continuous

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process improvement (CPI) is rooted in the analytic axiom that the whole is the sum of its parts: “If we
hone and polish all of our processes to their maximum performance potential, then ‘glue’ them together,
we’ll have the best overall system.”

This kind of thinking was the basis of Deming’s fourteenth point: “Put everybody in the company to
work to accomplish the transformation. The transformation is everybody’s job.” And it led decision makers
to implicitly assume that all parts of a system are equally important to its performance outcomes. But there
is ample evidence that Deming didn’t really intend the fourteenth point to be interpreted that way that his
emphasis was on transformation, not on the function of discrete processes. Later, in explaining what he
referred to as the four pillars of profound knowledge, Deming said:

Optimization is a process of orchestrating the efforts of all components toward achievement of the
stated aim. Optimization is management’s job. Everybody wins with optimization. Anything less than
optimization of the whole system will bring eventual loss to every component of the system. Any group
should have its aim optimization over time of the larger system the group operates in.

The obligation of any component is to contribute its best to the system, not to maximize its own
production, profit, or sales, nor any other competitive measure. Some components may operate at a loss to
themselves in order to optimize the whole system, including the components that take a loss.

So, while the importance of whole-system thinking and system optimization was clearly important to
Deming, that message was largely missed by analytically oriented managers, and the consultants (both
internal and external) who sought to serve them. The result has historically been a plethora of process
improvement tools and methods, but precious few system-level improvement tools.

As a result, the typical decision-making pattern in the complicated domain, and in complicated systems,
boils down to sense-analyze-respond. Take the cornerstone process of the ubiquitous Six Sigma
methodology, DMAIC (define, measure, analyze, improve, control). What is this but sense, analyze, and
respond?

Some typical examples of systems in the complicated domain might be manufacturing (industrial
production), insurance companies, hospitals or health care providers, and public school systems. Two
common characteristics of all complicated systems and their environments is relative stability (most of the
time) and fairly well defined variability. While things may change or the unexpected may happen, these
phenomena are usually within the system’s capability to respond without major system modification or
redesign.

Entrained Thinking

Snowden and Boone emphasize the risk of what they refer to as entrained thinking, a conditioned
response that traps decision makers in the practices, policies, techniques and rationales that have
successfully put them where they are. Entrained thinking sounds like this: “I got to the top by doing things
this way, why mess with success?” Another word for this is “complacency.” Isaac Asimov once offered a
rationale for entrained thinking:

To introduce something altogether new would mean to begin all over, to become ignorant again, and to
run the old, old risk of failing to learn.

There are serious dangers in such complacency. Even simple domains evolve over time with changes

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in the external environment. A decision maker who fails to recognize such evolution risks falling behind
events without realizing it. Notice in Figure 4 the purple strip separating the simple domain from the
chaotic—it marks a zone of increased risk. The reason the Cynefin framework places the simple domain
beside the chaotic is that the complacency resulting from entrained thinking significantly increases the risk
of system collapse into chaos.

Entrained thinking is also a risk for systems in the complicated domain, but in this case the ones at risk
are not the leaders. Rather, it’s the experts in functional areas who are most likely to fall into the trap of
tradition, and they tend to dominate the complicated domain. The risk of entrained thinking in the
complicated domain is that innovative ideas from non-experts may be disregarded by experts interested
primarily in building and reinforcing their own knowledge. As Deming observed, profound knowledge
must come from outside the system—and it must be invited in. Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen as often
as it should.

The Complex Domain

Most people, if asked, would say that their systems qualify as complex. This may well be true in some
cases, but those whose systems are really simple or complicated systems tend to think so, too. What defines
a complex system?

The key difference between a complex system and one that is merely complicated is the inclusion of
the concept of adaptation. Figure 7 provides more detailed characteristics of complex systems. Without
these characteristics (or most of them), a system is merely complicated. Cilliers’ list of complex system
characteristics only implies adaptation indirectly (see the next-to-last bullet). Snowden and Boone add an
important characteristic to Cilliers’ list: emergence. Essentially, emergence means that problems and
solutions arise from circumstances, often unpredictably. Complex systems have large numbers of
components, often called agents, that interact and adapt or learn. The key to complex systems is a high
degree of adaptive capacity, making them resilient in the face of perturbation. Agents within the system
have some latitude to react to those circumstances by changing the system, though both the system and its
internal agents constrain one another.

What kinds of systems would qualify as truly complex, and adaptive? Here’s a partial list:

Stock markets

Social insect and ant colonies

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The biosphere and the ecosystem

Brains and immune systems

Commercial business (national, international)

Any human social group-based endeavors in cultural and social systems (e.g., political parties,
communities).

New product development organizations

Inventors/innovators

International relations organizations

Unconventional warfare, insurgencies, transnational crime, etc.

Conventional forces operating under maneuver warfare

Revolutionary political movements

Complex systems are what Senge would refer to as learning organizations. The agents or actors within
complex systems are able to observe the impact of their initiatives and adjust accordingly to achieve desired
results. Kurtz and Snowden describe the complex domain:

…there are cause and effect relationships between the agents, but both the number of agents and
the number of relationships defy categorization or analytic techniques. Emergent patterns can be
perceived but not predicted; we call this phenomenon retrospective coherence. In this space, structured
methods that seize upon such retrospectively coherent patterns and codify them into procedures will
confront only new and different patterns for which they are ill prepared. Once a pattern has stabilized, its
path appears logical, but it is only one of many that could have stabilized, each of which also would have
appeared logical in retrospect.

Patterns may indeed repeat for a time in this space, but we cannot be sure that they will continue to
repeat, because the underlying sources of the patterns are not open to inspection (and observation of the
system may itself disrupt the patterns). Thus, relying on expert opinions based on historically stable patterns
of meaning will insufficiently prepare us to recognize and act upon unexpected patterns.

The old saying that the only thing constant is change applies in complex adaptive systems. A bad
quarter, a change in management, or a merger or acquisition introduce unpredictability, uncertainty, and
flux. In the complex domain, it’s often only after the fact that we can understand why things happen.
Perhaps the best examples are major financial collapses, such as Enron in 2000 and the international
financial collapse of 2008. The dangers may have been clear to a few in each case, but it wasn’t until after
events unfolded that the complex causality became clear. In fact, in complex domains most confusing or
disconcerting issues that arise without apparent forewarning appear obvious in hindsight.

This brings us to a critical revelation about knowledge and tools: in the complex domain, the knowledge
of experts may be of limited value, and the effectiveness of cause-and-effect analysis is likely to be
marginalized, or of short duration. This is not to say that expert knowledge is useless, only that its value in
predicting future events is likely to be limited. Snowden and Boone cite the Apollo 13 crisis as an example.
The event an—explosion in an oxygen regenerator—was never anticipated (predicted), so the astronauts
and mission control team had never practiced for it. Yet the astronauts were ultimately returned safely to
earth, because:

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A group of experts is put in a room with a mishmash of materials—bits of plastic and odds and ends
that mirror the resources available to the astronauts in flight. Leaders tell the team: This is what you
have; find a solution or the astronauts will die. None of those experts knew a priori what would
work. Instead, they had to let a solution emerge from the materials at hand. And they succeeded.
(Conditions of scarcity often produce more creative results than conditions of abundance.)

Complicated Versus Complex: Some Final Thoughts

From the preceding discussion, it might seem as if almost all systems would be complex, and almost
none complicated, especially in light of the contentions of Holland and Cilliers on agents and the latitude
they have to change their systems. After all, don’t most industrial operations (and even service
organizations) have continuous improvement programs? Don’t these represent agent-initiated changes?

Technically, the answer is “yes.” But consider the nature of most of those changes: modifications to
processes or procedures. How many instances can you cite in which dramatic, systemic changes resulted
from continuous improvement programs? After all, by definition “improvement” implies refinement of
existing processes, not wholesale replacement or redesign. Even the shift from manual labor to
computerized automation is embraced as an improvement, not as a departure from the basic interactions of
system elements. Moreover, even in continuous improvement situations, any changes must invariably be
approved by management, so the agents’ actual authority to effect change is arbitrarily limited.

Take the automobile industry, for example. With the advent of intensive Japanese competition in the
1980s, did American automakers institute major systemic changes to the way they did business? Cars still
migrated down assembly lines. Employees still assembled them the same way, though total quality
initiatives modified processes and procedures. The same number of interacting elements interacted in more
or less the same way. Variability and predictability improved, within already defined parameters. Drastic
perturbations—emergent situations—in the external environment (or even internal operations) requiring
creative, revolutionary systemic response are absent.

Another example: The airline industry in the wake of 9/11. The external environment changed radically,
requiring dramatic, creative responses—but the airlines themselves tried to continue business the way they
had always done it, albeit with major process disruptions imposed by added security requirements. In
essence, they were complicated systems operating in an environment that has become much more complex,
which explains many of the difficulties they experienced adapting. In the aftermath, some airlines didn’t
survive, or went into bankruptcy and reorganization. Ultimately, to the degree that we attempt to standardize
operations and make processes replicable, most of our systems are really complicated, rather than complex.
But the external environment in which a system operates experiences no such strictures. The most
problematic situations occur when a complicated system finds itself trying to function in a complex
environment. Neither its tools nor its management approach are likely to be suited for that kind of reality.

Cause and effect likewise has a different applicability in a complex environment. In simple and
complicated domains, process-oriented problem solving tools such as Six Sigma’s DMAIC or Five Whys
are quite effective. They’re less so in emergent situations, and the efficacy of the solutions they produce
are likely to be short-lived. This is not to imply that cause-and-effect is absent (or don’t apply) in the
complex domain, merely that it’s not discernible or predictable a priori. After the fact, cause and effect can
easily explain what happened, but often that’s too late to do system managers any good. The success of
cause and effect in a complex domain will depend highly on the depth of resident knowledge about the
system and its environment and how much—and how quickly—system agents can learn about them, the
known unknowns, and the unknown knowns (Refer to Figure 6).

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Leaders of organizations operating in the complex domain run a serious risk. Most of them have likely
come up through simple and complicated systems (or simple/complicated parts of systems). Their
experience is heavily grounded in the characteristics and tools of those domains: known knowns,
predictability and process-oriented tools. They expect fail-safe business plans with well-defined outcomes,
and their leadership style may be more authoritarian. They may fail to realize that complex domains demand
a more experimental management approach that admits some failure in the pursuit of understanding. If they
find it difficult to tolerate failure— a key element in experimental learning—they may over-control their
organizations and preempt opportunities for new informative patterns to emerge.

The Chaotic Domain

Cause-and-effect relationships are both operative and discernible in the simple and complicated
domains. It’s also potentially useful in the complex domain, if the necessary content knowledge is available
and it’s clearly recognized that its results can have a fairly short “shelf life” (i.e., a periodic re-do may be
necessary).

But as the name implies, the chaotic domain is turbulent and highly uncertain. In the chaotic domain,
cause-and-effect analysis is likely to be nearly useless. Causes and effects may not be perceivable, and if
they were, the environment may be changing so fast that there isn’t time to conduct an orderly cause-effect
analysis. Waiting for patterns to emerge may be a waste of time, or a recipe for disaster. This is the realm
of unknown unknowns, and probably even unknowables. It’s a highly tense situation, with many decisions
needing to be made and no time for reflection or contemplation about them.

Examples of situations in the chaotic domain would include crises, such as the 9-11 terror attacks and
the Fukushima nuclear reactor meltdown, natural disasters such as the Haitian and Chilean earthquakes,
post-apocalyptic society (after the breakdown of law and order), civil revolutions such as Libya experienced
in 2011, and organizations with much slower decision cycles than their competitors.

Disorder

In the Cynefin framework, the domain of disorder abuts all the others. (See Figure 4) This is intended
to signify that an organization in a given domain (simple, complicated, complex, chaotic) can easily slip
into disorder. As Snowden and Boone describe it:

The very nature of the fifth context—disorder—makes it particularly difficult to recognize when one is
in it. Here, multiple perspectives jostle for prominence, factional leaders argue with one another, and
cacophony rules. The way out of this realm is to break down the situation into constituent parts and assign
each to one of the other four realms. Leaders can then make decisions and intervene in contextually
appropriate ways.

To summarize…

The Cynefin framework (Figure 7) is designed to help decision makers—organizational leaders and
system managers—understand where their system stands in the external environment. It provides
knowledge about the general characteristics of the five domains in which leaders could find their systems.
It helps decision makers understand what kinds of methods and tools will be likely to work in their particular
organizations, and which ones won’t. The Cynefin concept provides key insight that most leaders have
likely been ignorant about:

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The boundaries between simple, complicated, complex and chaotic are indistinct. Consequently,
changes in external conditions or internal system modifications may push a given system from one
domain to another without being aware of it, if its leaders aren’t paying attention.

A particular system may inhabit more than one domain simultaneously. For example, a vertically
integrated manufacturing company my find its production subsystem in the complicated domain, but its
sales and marketing may be in the complex domain (or perhaps, in the economic conditions extant in 2011,
teetering on the edge of the chaotic).

The spatial relationship among the domains emphasizes how easily (or insidiously) an organization

might slip from one domain into another, possibly without noticing it.

The boundary between complicated and complex is less extreme than the boundary between the
simple and the chaotic. Consequently, the failure of management to recognize a shift from complicated
to complex, while problematic, is not likely to be as catastrophic as the failure to recognize a shift from
simple to chaotic. But all domains are directly exposed to the zone of disorder, which should prompt
leaders to heightened awareness of their sys- tem s relationship with its external environment.

Simple and complicated domains assume an ordered universe, where cause-and-effect relationships are

perceptible, and right answers can be determined based on facts.

Complex and chaotic domains are unordered, meaning that there is no apparent relationship between

cause and effect. This doesn’t mean that this is no cause and effect, just that it’s not apparent or obvious.
While the ordered part of the continuum (simple and complicated) can be managed based on facts, the
unordered part requires intuition and recognition of patterns. Consequently, the tools and methods that
work well in the simple and complicated domains tend to be less effective (or completely ineffective) in the
complex and chaotic domains.

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CYNEFIN NETWORK

Consider the implications of these insights. Most managers and executives climbed the corporate ladder
in parts of organizations that were either simple or complicated. As a result, they learned “best practices,”
or maybe just “good practices” that worked well in these environments. In most cases, the tools and
methodologies were likewise very structured, prescriptive, cause-effect based, and proven to succeed in
simple and complicated venues.

As managers move up the organizational ladder to positions of broader responsibility, the odds increase
that the parts of the organization they are responsible for bridge the boundary between merely complicated
and definitely complex, and perhaps even chaotic. They see and experience a larger number of possible
outcomes and options, and greater variability in those outcomes. This happens without even considering
the uncertainty associated with the evolution of the external environment. But psychologically they
recognize that they reached their current position by doing the same, familiar things over and over, and
doing them well.

So, they try to apply the tools, methods, and knowledge that has worked for them in the past to new
domains and situations—domains that may be relatively unresponsive to the tools that were effective in the
ordered domains. Is it any wonder, then, that they sense, try to analyze, and respond in situations when they
should be probing, sensing, and responding—or acting, sensing, and responding? Is it any wonder that such
managers avoid experimentation, with its consequent risk of failure, in favor of options with quantifiable,

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predictable costs and benefits?

Actions and Knowledge

As Fayol asserted some 90 years ago, management’s functions include planning, organizing, staffing,
leading, and controlling. At their most essential, the discharge of these responsibilities requires, first,
decisions (what to do), and second, action.7 But action without knowledge is like running in the dark—you
might get where you want to be, but you are more likely to kill yourself along the way.
When one acts (or chooses not to act), three things can happen. (See Figure 8) The situation can improve,
it can experience no change at all, or it can deteriorate. In other words, the action (or inaction) may be
productive, non-productive, or destructive. And if the situation does change, the outcome of that decision
may precipitate quickly or slowly, if it does anything at all.

Absent effective knowledge of the situation—in other words, when running in the dark—by acting your
odds are only one in three of doing something productive. And if there is a range of possible actions, even
if the action is productive, it might not produce favorable results as quickly as needed. The same argument
could be made for inaction, whether this is a passive decision (dithering) or an active one. If the system is
on an unfavorable trajectory, two of the three possible outcomes are bad, and declining the initiative
(inaction) leaves the range of play-out options entirely to chance. So, as Elbert Hubbard once observed,
positive anything is likely to be better than negative nothing.

But the operative word in the preceding paragraphs is knowledge. If one has it, the odds of making the
right decision— act or don’t act—change. Instead of being a simple one-in-three probability, relevant
knowledge shades the odds in favor of improving the situation. The Cynefin framework seems to imply the
same thing. (See Figure 9) While it’s primarily designed to guide executive action, with a little modification
(and some inputs from Snowden and Boone), the same framework can effectively point us in the right
direction for skewing the decision odds in our favor.

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Organizations in the simple domain have nearly all the knowledge they need to make decisions that
produce highly predictable outcomes. They can observe what’s going on, sort it into the appropriate
pigeonhole, and respond with tried and true procedures.

Organizations in the complicated domain know some of what they need to know to make informed,
effective decisions. But they also know the questions they don’t have the answers to, and they have a
reasonably good idea of how to find those answers. They can’t proceed on the basis of existing knowledge,
so they must sense and analyze—which may point them in the direction of searching out the information
they need but don’t have.

Those in the complex domain have the knowledge available in the simple and complicated domains,
but because there is far more variability and more possible scenarios, they run out of knowledge long before
they run out of decisions to be made. They’re much more uncertain about what to do and how to figure it
out. They may be able to research what they don’t know (if time pressures allow). Or, if the information is
not readily available, they must probe by experimentation— thoughtful trial and error—sense whether their
experiments seem to be succeeding or not, then respond based on those observations.

The worst case situation for an organization is to find themselves in the chaotic domain, particularly if
its entire history has been in the simple or complicated domains. What they require to function effectively
is unknown to them and, perhaps because of the turbulence and rapid change in the environment, it may be
unknowable. In this case, the organization’s leaders must act on their best intuition, observe the immediate
effects, and rapidly decide to “pour on the coals,” if the action appears effective, or rapidly respond with
another option if it doesn’t. This is a domain of instinctive (as opposed to thoughtful) trial and error, with
the tacit understanding that because of the chaotic environment effective solutions are likely to be short-
lived.

Discontinuous Innovation

It should be noted that, regardless of the domain (or combination of domains) that an organization finds

itself in, social entropy is an ever-present threat. Social entropy refers to the tendency of human networks
and society in general to break down over time, moving from cooperation and advancement towards conflict
and chaos. In other words, without a positive effort to hold an organization effectively on course, it will
inexorably tend to run off the rails and into a ditch. In the context of our discussions on the Cynefin
framework, this means that without constant attention to the changes occurring in the external environment,
and the performance of the system within that environment, an organization can rapidly slip from a
controllable domain (simple, complicated, even complex) into disorder.

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In other words, don’t become complacent. Keep your attention on the job at hand, but maintain a
situational awareness of what’s going on outside the system, so that you can determine whether it will
ultimately invalidate your knowledge base. For example, for centuries Swiss watchmakers had been
refining and perfecting their skills at creating precision mechanical watches. Yet in the space of ten years,
a centuries old industry came crashing down because the insular watchmakers, who dated to the craft guilds
of the 17th and 18th centuries, failed to recognize the wave of the future: inexpensive quartz crystal
electronic watch works that could deliver accuracies an order of magnitude better than traditional
mechanical works could achieve. Instead of acknowledging the existential threat and creating ways to deal
with it, they deemed it a passing fad, then ignored the technology completely—until the Japanese captured
a significant segment of the timepiece market and the Swiss watch industry had collapsed to a shadow of
its former self.

Knowing what we do now about the Cynefin framework, we can see that the Swiss watch industry was
badly overwhelmed because it was a simple system (or, at most, complicated) whose environment radically
changed under its feet to become chaotic. The Swiss watch industry fell victim to a phenomenon known as
disruptive innovation because it failed to perceive the quartz-digital technology as a threat to its market
niche. So, it ignored the threat.

The nature of today’s global economy and geopolitics, combined with the rapid expansion of
technology over the past several decades, is such that discontinuous innovation is now a way of life for
organizations and systems everywhere. Generational cycles are becoming shorter. The threat of entropy
demands constant attention of decision makers, not only on their own internal operations but on
developments in the external environment as well—developments that may invalidate their world view (and
what their organizations are doing). The risk of an organization finding itself slipping into the chaotic
domain is higher than ever.

CHARTING AN EXECUTIVE COURSE

With the evolution of management since Taylor and Fayol, with the complications imposed by
globalization, technology advancement, and the increasing uncertainty of the external environment, what’s
an executive to do? Nobody wants to be a cork bobbing on the flood waters, but the alternative is a
scattershot approach— rummaging in the management toolbox, looking for the “silver bullet” panacea,
followed by trial-and-error to see what works or fails, ultimately gravitating toward a flavor of the month,
repeated disillusionment, lost time (and, possibly, opportunity), and ultimately organizational confusion.

Could there possibly be any doubts that the management toolbox (Figure 10) is flooded with tools of
all manner, shape, and purpose? A quick look at the tools and methodologies list8 in Appendix 1 should
put any contrary notions to rest. The real challenge, as the cat in the basement at midnight ruefully
appreciates when the light comes on, is which mouse to pursue.

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The holy grail of managers everywhere is what the physicists refer to as a unified field theory—an

attempt to consolidate the laws of physics into a single grand framework—in other words, a theory of
everything. Physicists have, so far, failed to find such a theory. The Cynefin Framework is probably not the
management equivalent, but it does offer a means to “put the pieces together” in such a way that they can
be compared, make sense, and guide decision makers in choosing the methods and tools that will offer the
greatest potential for helping them overcome the obstacles and constraints to achieving their organizations’
goals.

COMPARING METHODS AND CYNEFIN DOMAINS

John F. Kennedy once observed that success has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan. In business,
successes are usually trumpeted, while failures are normally buried in obscurity. Consequently, it may be
difficult to find practitioners willing to advertise that “we failed to achieve positive results with [name your
chosen methodology of the month],” but successes typically find their way into the popular management
journals of the day. Nevertheless, the memory of the failures takes on a life of its own, and with the passage
of time all that is recalled is that the method failed. Rarely are methodological failures rationally analyzed
to establish their cause. What lives on, however, is the conviction that “we won’t try that methodology
again!”

So, how does a decision maker use the Cynefin Framework to choose the methods and tools with the
highest probability of success? The first step would be to learn more about the domains of the Cynefin
Framework, and with adequate understanding, decide which domain(s) describe the external environment
we believe our organization resides within. Remember, the answer to this may not be clear cut. As often as
not, a given organization may overlap more than one domain. Certain parts of the organization may clearly
lie in the complicated environment, for example, while others may decidedly operate in conditions of
complexity.

The second step would be to examine the nature of our systems themselves. Do they qualify as simple,
complicated, complex, or chaotic—according to the characteristics identified by Snowden and Boone? It’s
important not to lose sight of the fact that there are two factors involved here: the system and its external
environment.

A system constituted to succeed in a simple or complicated environment will find itself desperately
floundering in a complex or chaotic environment. That environment might start out well matched with a
particular system but evolve to a different one. Without a commensurate adaptation, the organization can
expect an increasingly entropic result—more disorder or randomness (and who wants that?!). Conversely,
a system constituted to function effectively in a complex or chaotic environment that subsequently finds

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itself in a simple or merely complicated environment may experience a kind of anxiety that motivates people
to tamper with already effective operations or otherwise introduce disruptions and instability. (“It can’t be
that easy…let’s tweak it!”)

Once decision makers have a reasonably good grasp on their organizations’ “place in the firmament,”
it’s time to start a toolbox inventory. If we’re comfortably ensconced in a system that’s operating effectively
within its environment, even if that position is somewhere between domains, we could continue to rest on
our laurels and risk becoming complacent. But if we’re smart, we’ll be looking for ways to push the edge
of the organizational performance envelope while maintaining effective control. If we’re uncomfortable
with our situation, concerned about the future, or perhaps sensing control of our circumstances slipping
away, we will likewise be searching, but in this case for ways to restore our equilibrium and restore forward
progress.

In either case, the choice of methods and tools is critical. It’s not as simplistic as driving a nail into a
wall with a screwdriver, or “when your only tool is a hammer, all problems start looking like nails.” The
consequences of using an inappropriate approach could be traumatic, perhaps even fatal. So, what’s the
prescription?

Finding “the Handle”

If we look inside the management tool box, we find that there’s no shortage of methods to choose from.
The question is, “What’s the right tool for the job?” A cursory examination of all the possible tools a
decision maker might use to guide his or her system effectively would likely show a distribution that
resembles Figure 11. Each of the dots in the cells of the matrix represents a method or tool.

There are two levels of the system under consideration—strategic and tactical—and two general classes
of tools, qualitative and quantitative. Notice that the preponderance of tools available to managers lies in
the quantitative cells, and most of those are at the tactical level. This reflects the reality that most tools,
methods, software, support aids, measurement devices, etc., are intended and designed to assist with process
control and management. The number of tools and methods designed for strategic needs is considerably
fewer, and many of those are qualitative.

In a limited discussion such as this one, it’s not possible to examine all the tools in detail. Moreover,
sorting existing tools and methods by appropriate Cynefin domain has never been really done in more than
a superficial way—and that only by Cynefin specialists. This offers fertile ground for more concerted

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research. But for the purposes of this paper, we’ll confine our examination to a few key methodologies,
some well-known and others not so much.

“Begin With the End in Mind”: Strategic-Qualitative Tools

In his landmark book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Covey recommended starting “with
the end in mind.” Sage advice, because if you don’t know where you’re going, then any path will do.

Determining direction and destination of an organization is a senior executive strategic responsibility,
with input and advice from the system s owners, whether represented by a commercial board of directors,
a non-for-profit board of trustees, or the owners directly. So, let’s start with the strategic cells in Figure 11.

Clearly, some rational method of strategy development is desirable for all organizations, and in the
simple, complicated, and complex domains it’s not unreasonable to expect to find one. The chaotic domain,
by definition, is not hospitable to rational approaches. In fact, Snowden and Boone make a point of
emphasizing that the simple and complicated domains are the realm of logical cause and effect, but that it
becomes less effective in the complex domain and virtually ineffective in the chaotic.

The Logical Thinking Process

Perhaps the preeminent methodology in the realm of cause and effect is the Logical Thinking Process
(LTP) conceived by E.M. Goldratt. (Refer to Appendix 2 for examples of the LTP.)

There are other cause-and-effect methods, but the LTP is the most rigorous and comprehensive, and it
has proven applications in strategy development and deployment. Yet this method has its limitations, too.
(See Figure 12)

The LTP has proven its effectiveness in solving system problems in the simple and complicated
domains for 20 years. It has also been applied with success in the complex domain as well, but because
complex-adaptive systems continue to evolve, cause-effect relationships determined in the complex domain
may have a limited “shelf life.” Changing environmental conditions can make obsolete problem analyses
and solutions developed with the thinking process, in either an evolutionary or revolutionary way.

This phenomenon of changing environments, perhaps the most prominent characteristic of the complex
domain, means that although the Logical Thinking Process can be used to develop strategy or to solve
system problems, it really constitutes “a snapshot in time,” reflecting the conditions and prescriptions extant
at the time of the LTP analysis. So, leaders in complex domains can’t put the system “on autopilot” after

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an LTP analysis. They must continually monitor changing system performance and environmental
conditions, watching for changes that could degrade the effectiveness of the solution or strategy. When
such a deviation is identified, the LTP must be applied again to the newly evolved situation.

The key to useful, continuing application of the LTP in the complex domain is system knowledge. (See
Figure 13) A continuing cycle of LTP corrections or new analyses depends on a continual infusion of new
information. We already have the “known knowns.” In the complex domain, as the external environment
evolves, the importance of filling in the blanks in the known-unknown and unknown-known areas takes on
added importance. Even more, a continuing flow of new information in a constantly changing environment
is the lifeblood that keeps the LPT relevant in the complex domain, and even extends its utility (light shaded
part of the arc in Figure 12). That’s why the complex domain represents the ragged edge of utility for cause
and effect.

So, to briefly summarize, the Logical Thinking Process can be an eminently useful method to solve
problems and develop strategies for systems in the simple and complicated domains. It can also be effective
in the complex domain, but that effectiveness is limited by the quality, reliability, and perishability of the
knowledge that forms the substance of the logic trees. This means that the complex domain represents “the
ragged edge” of LTP effectiveness. It remains so only to the extent that practitioners continually monitor
the environment for significant changes and update their thinking process analyses to incorporate those
changes. Fortunately, the LTP lends itself to rapid updating.

The OODA Loop

Conceived by John R. Boyd, the OODA loop is a structured pattern of observation, orientation,
decision, and action. [59] (See Figure 14)

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The OODA sequence begins with careful observation of the external environment. Those observations

are then integrated with the observer’s “world view”—the orientation step. That integration produces either
congruency (i.e., observers see what they expect to see) or some kind of mismatch—in other words, the
observed phenomena are unexpected. When that happens, the orientation step becomes a much more
comprehensive activity, as reflected in Figure 14. Nevertheless, the outcome of orientation becomes the
input of the decision step, i.e., what to do about the mismatch. That decision prompts action to close the
gap between reality and expectations, the final step of the first OODA pass.

But it’s called a loop for a reason. The action step is intended to change either the system or the external
environment. Ideally, this change should narrow the gap determined in the orientation stage, but in complex
or chaotic domains especially, one can never be sure. So, the next rational thing to do is observe the results
of the action, along with any other unfolding circumstances in the environment that may not have been
happening the first time around. And a whole new cycle of the OODA loop begins again.

OODA loop cycles can be either fast or slow, or somewhere in between. Whether the cycle is fast or
slow depends on the nature of the system in question, the speed at which it senses and analyzes mismatches,
the rate of environmental change, and how fast changes can be executed. Boyd’s original application of the
OODA loop was in the context of maneuver warfare, with minute-by-minute or hour-by-hour changes in
the battlefield situation. But since the advent of the OODA loop, businesses have been applying it in their
competitive environments, the rate of change of which is much slower than on a battlefield, perhaps as long
as weeks or months.

Regardless of the nominal OODA cycle time, however, in a competitive environment the party with
the faster OODA loop cycle—often referred to as the decision cycle—gains a decisive advantage over its
competitor. It’s important to keep in mind that while speed is important, and sometimes even an imperfect
action taken immediately can be better than a perfect one later, any action taken should be better than the
situation it replaces, or there’s a serious risk of doing the wrong things faster.

People or organizations able to jump out to a lead of two or more decision cycles can quickly drive
their competitors into confusion and ultimately into total collapse.

Like the Logical Thinking Process, the OODA loop is a qualitative tool. Though it accepts quantitative
data in the observation step, it ultimately depends on intuitive knowledge to capitalize on any such data.
And like the thinking process, the OODA loop is effective in multiple domains. In fact, it is even more
broadly applicable than the LTP. (See Figure 15)

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The OODA loop can be effective in the simple and complicated Cynefin domains, but it really displays
its value in the chaotic domain, and beyond the “ragged edge” of the LTP in the complex domain. In fact,
the two tools integrate very well together in those areas where they overlap. The LTP is a potentially
powerful means of “orienting” decision makers and developing options for the decision stage.

Brainstorming

Brainstorming is the original idea generation methodology. It was conceived in the early 1940s by Alex
Osborn, then executive vice president of Batten, Barton, Durstine and Osborn (BBDO), one of the largest
advertising agencies in the world. Brainstorming filled the need of an industry whose lifeblood was new
ideas, yet one in which proffered ideas were suffocated by an atmosphere of “No, no, a thousand times no.”
Osborn’s concept put BBDO on top of the advertising world, and its dissemination throughout the business
world has made it perhaps the most widely accepted problem-solving technique ever developed.

Brainstorming is most certainly a qualitative tool—and a “right brain” tool, at that. It enjoys the virtue
of applying to circumstances in any of the four Cynefin domains. Moreover, it can integrate effectively
with other qualitative tools, such as the Logical Thinking Process and the OODA loop. But it is useful at
the tactical level as well as the strategic.

Getting Down to Nuts and Bolts: Tactical-Quantitative Tools

The simple and complicated Cynefin domains are the realm of most of the tools and methods we
typically associate with modern business management. Most of these methods are quantitative to some
degree (maybe entirely), and they are primarily intended to address the tactical issues of day-to-day business
performance. Most of these methods extend over into the complex domain to the degree that they are
adaptable to changing circumstances. It’s in the complex domain that we see applications of methods such
as lean, six sigma, and business process reengineering that aren’t exactly “orthodox.” They may have been
modified to accommodate situations that the “book solution” doesn’t address. If such adaptation
compromises the ultimate effectiveness of the method, it may be safe to assume that the methods or tools
are pressing the outer edge of the envelope for which they are optimized.

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Figure 16 provides a conceptual overview of the relationship between methods and Cynefin domains.
It’s by no means complete—there just isn’t room in this diagram to show all possible tools and methods.
But combined with the message of Figure 11, it’s sufficient to convey the idea: some tools and methods
work better in various circumstances than others. And perhaps most important, with the aid of the Cynefin
Framework, it’s possible to predict with reasonable assurance which methods will produce the desired
results in a given situation (a combination of system type and environment) and which ones aren’t likely to
do so.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

Where does this discussion leave us? Here are some of the conclusions we can assert:

The evolution of management over the past century, from Taylor and Fayol through Drucker and
Deming, has been a process of continuing search, trial and error, deduction and induction, figuring out what
works, what works better, and what doesn’t work very well at all.

There is no shortage of management methods and tools. However, the preponderance of these are

tactical and quantitative. Strategic, qualitative management aids are considerably fewer in number.

Some methods and tools have realized significant successes in a variety of situations, while failing to

meet expectations in others. Until now, there hasn’t been an obvious underlying principle to explain this
phenomenon.

What has been missing in much of the study of management has been a top-down approach—from the

general to the specific, the strategic to the tactical.

The emphasis in most management methods has historically been on analysis—the division of complex

systems into “manageable bites.” The underlying assumption—that the parts can be individually improved
and “glued back together” to produce the best-performing sys- tem—ignores the interactive effects of the
system’s parts. A synthesis approach, in concert with analysis, is required to achieve effective system
success.

Systems and their external environments can be classified as simple, complicated, complex, and

chaotic. This taxonomy is known as the Cynefin Framework. The difference between a system and its
environment, as they relate to these categories, is a matter of focus. Classifying an environment in one of
the four domains is an exercise in external observation. Doing the same for a system is an exercise in
internal examination.

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A particular system or organization may have components that operate (with varying degrees of
success) in different domains simultaneously. For example, a production process may be considered almost
exclusively complicated, but the marketing function that pro- motes the sales of what production delivers
may be complex.

Until the advent of the Cynefin Framework, there was no orderly way to evaluate the interaction of

organizational systems, their external environments, and the myriad of management methods and tools
available to decision makers.

A significant number of organizations today qualify as complex, meaning that their environment may

change in short but irregular, unpredictable cycles, requiring the organization to adapt internally
accordingly to avoid degradation.

The majority of available management methods and tools have been designed to succeed in simple and

complicated domains. It wasn’t intended this way, but the failure to identify and understand the underlying
assumptions about these methods made it inevitable. Without extraordinary efforts, their effectiveness
begins to deteriorate the deeper into the complex do- main the organization is forced to operate. A typical
example is the decreasing utility of cause-effect analysis the farther into the complex domain one goes. By
the time one reaches the chaotic domain, cause-effect is nearly useless, because the situation changes faster
than cause and effect can be determined.

The closer to the chaotic domain a system or its environment come, the greater the dependence on

intuitive decision making, command-control leadership skills, and faster OODA loop cycles becomes.
Without a sense-making framework such as Cynefin, decisions about which methods or tools to use in a
particular situation become a trial-and-error, hit-and-miss proposition. How many times has a management
team embraced a philosophy or methodology—Total Quality Management, for instance—promoted by a
particular expert or consulting company, sometimes as a panacea, only to be disappointed with the results?
There are obviously other factors instrumental to success, such as organizational psychology and change
management. But with an effective foundational understanding of where a particular system resides “in the
firmament,” the choice of appropriate methods can dramatically enhance the probability of success of the
system’s improvement efforts, making the jobs of organizational psychologists and change agents much
easier.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity
L421: Reading B

Strategic Surprise or Fundamental Flaw?
Author: Uri Bar-Joseph

Abstract

During the decade after the 1973 War of Yom Kippur, the consensus was that Israel’s military defeat
in the war’s first stage was caused by the failure of intelligence to provide a warning prior to the Arab
attack, but many experts maintained later that it reflected improper preparations for war. Using recently
released evidence, this article analyzes Israel’s inadequate war deployment when firing commenced and its
impact on the failure to repel the attack. It concludes that since this deficient deployment resulted from the
absence of a sufficient intelligence warning, the intelligence failure was at the root of the Israeli failure at
the war’s start.

Introduction

The first stage of the 1973 War of Yom Kippur (the War of Ramadan or the October War in Arab
terminology) constitutes the worst defeat in Israel’s military history. The Syrian-Egyptian attack, which
started on 6 October at 2:00 p.m., came as an almost-complete surprise to the Israelis. In the south, five
Egyptian mechanized divisions crossed the Suez Canal with only minor losses. They occupied some forts
of the Bar-Lev defense line and encircled the rest, thus creating a solid bridgehead in the Israeli-held Sinai
Peninsula. On the morning of 7 October, the Southern Command of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) was
left with fewer than 110 tanks out of the approximately 300 with which they had started the war. They had
to block an Egyptian army of close to 100,000 soldiers, supported by hundreds of tanks, until the arrival of
Israel’s reserve army. In the north, three Syrian infantry divisions, supported by 600 tanks and about 80
artillery batteries, attacked Israel’s defense line in the Golan on 6 October. By the early hours of the next
day, the southern sector of the defense line had collapsed, and there were no ground forces to stop the Syrian
tanks from invading Israel at its pre-1967 borders. In the air, two major operations carried out on the
morning of 7 October to destroy the Arab antiaircraft layouts – Operations Tagar (Quarrel 4) in the south
and Dugman (Model 5) in the north – completely failed at a high cost. Their failure prevented the Israeli
Air Force (IAF) from effectively participating in the ground warfare throughout most of the war. Given that
the IAF had been allocated about 50 percent of the IDF’s annual budget during the period of 1967-73 and
that it had carried much of the burden during the War of Attrition in 1969-70, its inability to provide the
expected results in October 1973 was a major setback to Israel’s military effort.

The dire situation on the battlefield had a considerable effect on the Israeli leadership. Following a visit

to the IDF command post in the north, about sixteen hours after the war started, Defense Minister Moshe
Dayan concluded that this might be the end of “the Third Temple,” meaning the end of the Israeli
state. According to a general’s evidence, Dayan wept when he said it. A few hours later, during a visit to
the war room in the south, Dayan suggested making a deep withdrawal in the Sinai. If accepted by the
IDF command, such a move could have led to a complete defeat on this front. Upon returning to Tel
Aviv, Dayan described the grim situation on both fronts to Prime Minister Golda Meir. By some
accounts, following this discussion she started contemplating suicide. In the aftermath of his talk with the
Prime Minister, he offered his resignation. Golda Meir rejected his offer.

Go to Table of Contents

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The speedy arrival of the Israeli reserve army to the fronts on 7 October brought this stage of the war
to its end. By the early evening hours of 7 October, the situation in the Golan and in the Sinai had been
stabilized, and the IDF was planning counteroffensives on both fronts for the next day. The attack in the
north succeeded, and by 10 October the IDF had regained almost all of its territorial losses in the Golan.
Although the offensive in the south was a complete failure, the IDF had accumulated sufficient forces on
this front to block any additional Egyptian offensive, even after its 8 October defeat.

The Debate

Until the early 1990s, the consensus among most students of this dark chapter in Israel’s military history
was that the main cause of the failure was the element of strategic surprise. This surprise was the outcome
of the failure by Military Intelligence (AMAN), Israel’s sole national intelligence estimator in 1973, to
provide, on the eve of the war, a warning that war was highly likely. Despite the fact that AMAN had an
almost-perfect picture of the deployment of the Egyptian and Syrian armies along the border with Israel, as
well as numerous other war indications and information obtained from reliable Arab sources (including
King Hussein of Jordan) that Egypt and Syria planned an attack, AMAN’s experts estimated twenty-four
hours before the outbreak of the war that “the probability that the Egyptians intend to renew fighting is low
. . . . [and] the probability of a Syrian independent (without Egypt) action remains low.” On the basis of this
estimate the Chief of Staff avoided demanding the mobilization of the reserve army and additional moves.
He changed his mind only ten hours before firing commenced, after he received a warning from the head
of the Institute for Intelligence and Special Tasks (the Mossad), Major General (Res.) Zvi Zamir, who had
been informed in a meeting with a top Egyptian source that war would start on 6 October. Zamir’s source
was Dr. Ashraf Marwan, a close advisor of President Anwar Sadat and a son-in-law of the late President
Gamal Abdel Nasser.

That surprise was the main cause of Israel’s military failures at the beginning of the war was the

conclusion of the Agranat Commission, the only official investigation into the war. The larger share of
senior IDF officers agreed. The Chief of Staff in 1973, Lieutenant General David Elazar, assessed that a
warning twenty hours in advance would have been sufficient to prevent the catastrophe. His predecessor,
Lieutenant General (Res.) Haim Bar-Lev, who was nominated during the war to command the Suez front,
maintained that “it was all the outcome of the surprise.” Likewise, Major General (Res.) Avraham Adan, a
division commander on the southern front, was firm in his conviction that “had we received an early
warning . . . . the picture would have been completely different.” And Major General Yitzhak Hofi, the
commander of the Northern Command, estimated that “if a mobilization of the reserves had taken place in
time, at least of one tank brigade, the whole picture of the fighting in the first two days would have
been completely different.” Academic scholars tended to agree as well.

Confronting this thesis, more and more studies of recent years maintain that the main source for Israel’s

initial defeats was not strategic surprise but fundamental flaws in the IDF’s preparations for the next war,
mainly in its operational plans, force structure, and the poor quality of staff work. Major General Eli Zeira,
who served as the Director of Military Intelligence (AMAN) in 1973, maintained that overconfidence led
the IDF to make unrealistic plans for the coming war by depending on regular forces alone to prevent any
Arab achievement, in both the Suez and the Golan, without the support of the IAF, which was to destroy
the Arab antiaircraft systems during the first forty-eight hours of the war. Mordechai Gazit, the General
Manager of the Prime Minister’s office in 1973, regarded the source of the problem not as insufficient
warning, but as a mistaken military assertion that the post-1967 borders would enable Israel to repulse any
coordinated, simultaneous surprise attack by Egypt and Syria. Ina similar manner, Eliot Cohen and John
Gooch emphasized the impact of the great victory in 1967, which had prevented the Israelis from properly
assessing the true capabilities of the Egyptian and Syrian armies and led them to rely on an unrealistic

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balance of forces on the front prior to the outbreak of the war. And Zeev Maoz concluded that had strategic
warning been provided in time to allow a complete war deployment of the IDF in the Suez and the Golan,
the situation could have been even worse: In the north, the Syrian failure to occupy the entire Golan Heights
had less to do with the Israeli surprise and more to do with fundamental weaknesses of the Syrian army,
and in the south, more Israeli tanks could be hit by Egyptian antitank missiles without blocking the
crossingforces.1Other analysts emphasized the improvements that had taken place between 1967 and 1973
in Egyptian and Syrian weaponry and command and control. Arab accounts of the war tend to emphasize
this point as well. Egypt’s leader, Sadat, regarded the Egyptian air strike at the outset of the war as the key
to Egypt’s military success during the war’s first stage. A semi-official history of the Egyptian Air Force
(which quotes Sadat) paints this air strike in very bright colors as well. The Egyptian army’s chief of staff
in 1973, Lieutenant General Saad elShazly, maintained that the key to Egypt’s military achievement was
the excellent preparation of his army for war, as well as the fact that the Egyptian strategy combined limited
territorial goals with maximal employment of force. His operations officer, who planned the war and
replaced him in its aftermath, regarded the war’s prudent and detailed planning as the main cause for the
Egyptian success.

An in-depth analysis of the course of the fighting led many observers to pinpoint other weaknesses of
the IDF. Most of them agree that its unbalanced force structure was a major source of its initial failure.
Following the war of 1967, the IDF allocated most of its resources to air power and tank forces at the
expense of other elements, primarily the infantry, artillery, and combat engineering. The result was an army
in which the ability of the tank to meet all types of challenges in ground warfare and of the IAF to provide
close air support and to decide the war was overestimated. As the war showed, the tanks were surprised,
mainly on the Egyptian front, by the massive use of personal antitank weapons, and the IAF was unable to
provide effective air support because it had failed to destroy the Arab antiaircraft layouts and had to perform
in a zone defended by ground-to-air missiles throughout most of the war. Other observers emphasize
different elements. The IAF commander in the war, Major General Benny Peled, blamed the ineffective air
support on the lack of cooperation between Military Intelligence, which was to provide the operational
intelligence, and the IAF, which was supposed to launch the attacks. The poor quality of staff work and
operational discipline, which manifested itself on the eve of the war and during the first days of fighting, is
also cited as a major cause for its poor outcome during the initial stage.

In order to systematically address this debate, I will identify six Israeli decisions – two concerning the

Suez front, two in the Golan, and two in the use of the IAF – which led to the military catastrophe. By
analyzing the nature of these mistakes, their context, and their sources, I will show that despite certain
deficiencies in war preparations, the primary source of the IDF’s failure at the outset of the war was indeed
the element of strategic surprise.

The Mistakes Responsible for the Military Failure

The Suez Front

The grave situation on the Suez front, which became apparent in the early morning hours of 7 October,
was the outcome of two developments. First was the ease with which the Egyptian divisions crossed the
canal and reached their operational goals. Second was the fact that only a third of the IDF force that had
been tasked to defend the Sinai under a worst-case surprise attack scenario was actually operational. This
was the result of two errors.

The first error was that the forts of the Bar Lev line were mostly manned by second-rate reserve soldiers
rather than the high-quality regular service paratroopers specified by plans in case of war. The soldiers

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assigned to the central and northern sectors of the line belonged to Battalion 68 of Brigade 16 (the Jerusalem
territorial brigade). This battalion had not previously been deployed to the Bar Lev line. Many of its soldiers
were relatively old, poorly trained, and lacking in combat experience. Moreover, since their service was to
take place during the Jewish high holidays, the command of the brigade had selected for this particular
mission many reservists who had escaped service on previous occasions, as a form of what was termed
“educational punishment.”

Making matters worse was the fact that some of the forts were understaffed, and fourteen out of thirty

were not manned at all. None of them were prepared for war, and information that war would break out
reached the soldiers there only minutes before firing commenced. Thus, rather than serving as a means to
interrupt the Egyptian crossing, the forts turned into a liability. Lack of professional training and preparation
for the coming events led the reserve soldiers to demand assistance or to be rescued immediately after fire
commenced. Henceforth, assisting and rescuing them rather than fighting the Egyptian forces became the
main task of Division 252 during the war’s first night.

The way in which the Bar Lev line fell led a number of experts to maintain that the professional concept

behind it was mistaken from the start. Some even maintained that its collapse in 1973 was inevitable. Yet,
one has to remember that a similar concept of defense was employed on the Golan Heights, where none of
the strongholds were taken, with the exception of the isolated Hermon fort. Therefore, it seems that the
variance in the fate between the two defense lines has less to do with the fundamental concept itself and
more to do with the way they were prepared for war: In the north, the line was ready for war and the
strongholds were manned by high-quality regular service infantry soldiers. They were staffed, moreover,
with forward observation officers and surgeons. Consequently, even when encircled by the Syrian army,
they continued participating effectively in battle, reporting back to central command, and repulsing Syrian
attacks. None of these essential elements were in place in the Bar Lev line, and this was the reason for its
rapid collapse.

The second mistake that decided the fate of the battle on the southern front was the decision, made by

the Command’s head, Major General Shmuel Gonen, to delay the deployment of the main bulk of his
available force, the 300 tanks of Division 252, until the afternoon hours of 6 October. Gonen gave this order
despite the fact that the Chief of Staff had instructed him personally at 6:00a.m. to prepare for the war that
was expected to start at 6:00 p.m. By his own account, he did so because he was not certain that Egypt
would start a war at all and because he wanted to avoid a too-early large-scale deployment that might
provoke the Egyptians to start firing. Since the expected “H” hour was 6:00 p.m., he instructed the
commander of Division 252 to avoid breaking routine activity until 4:00 p.m.31

The emergency plan for war in the south, Shovach Yonim (Dovecote),called for the disposition of two

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tank brigades (220 tanks) between the water line and the Artillery Road, about 8 to 10 kilometers east of
the canal. A third brigade (110 tanks) was to be deployed between the Artillery Road and the Lateral Road,
about 25 kilometers from the canal. In addition, 21 batteries of 155mm and175mm self-propelled guns,
capable of covering the canal crossing zones by laying down fire, were to be deployed as well. Had Gonen
ordered at 7:00 a.m. that this deployment plan be carried out, most of the forces could have been ready for
war when the firing started. As a result of his decision, however, only three tanks were in their positions at
2:00 p.m., and most of the force was still hours away from its deployment areas. Consequently, the first
waves of the Egyptian crossing forces met no Israeli resistance at all, precisely at the stage when they were
most vulnerable.

Each of the five Egyptian divisions used a regiment of 144 rubber boats (720 boats altogether) for

crossing. During the first hours of the war, they transferred 32,000 soldiers to the Israeli side of the canal
in twelve waves without meeting any resistance. What would have been the outcome had the boats crossed
the canal under fire from at least 100 tank guns as well as artillery, machine gun fire from the forts, and air
bombardment? Under such circumstances, it is quite probable that hundreds of boats would have been hit
and that the rate of the Egyptian crossing operation would have been far slower. Had the Israelis received
a three- to five-day warning, there would have been seventy-two artillery batteries in place on the front, and
the results could have been even more devastating for the Egyptians. In addition, since the firing positions
of the Israeli tanks were empty when the first waves of the crossing took place, the Egyptian infantry
occupied them. Using personal antitank guided missiles (“Sagger”) and RPG-7 rocket launchers, they hit
the Israeli tanks in the midst of approaching their positions, causing them heavy casualties.

Altogether, the combination of the completely unprepared Bar Lev line and the unnecessary delay in
the deployment of Gonen’s available forces led to the fall of Israel’s first defense line on the Suez front,
with hardly any disruption to the Egyptian crossing, while two-thirds of the 300-tank force of Division
252were lost (as compared with 122 tanks lost in the occupation of the Sinai Peninsula in the 1967 war).

The Golan Heights

The severity of the situation in the Golan became clear about eight hours after the war began, when
reports of Syrian tanks in the Hushniya area started arriving. Two hours later, at midnight, it became evident
that Syrian tanks had advanced about eight kilometers into the Golan, and by 2:00 a.m. on 7 October, the
IDF force on the southern sector of the front was left with only half of its tanks –about thirty-seven. By

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4:00 a.m., Syrian tanks had arrived at the Gamla ascent over the Sea of Galilee. At this stage, when at least
four Syrian armored and mechanized brigades (43, 46, 51, and 132) broke into the southern sector of the
Golan, no viable Israeli force was available to block their way into the Jordan Valley.

The collapse of the southern defense sector in the Golan was the outcome of two fundamental mistakes.
The first involved the way in which the IDF was deployed when the war began. The second took place
shortly after firing commenced.

The IDF had three deployment plans for this front. The first two were to meet local challenges aimed

at, for example, a Syrian attempt to capture a civilian settlement or a fort or two. In order to meet such
threats, Plan Hol Yam(Sea Sand), which was solely based on regular forces, called for the deployment, in
preplanned positions, of one tank brigade (100 tanks), ten artillery batteries, and three high-quality infantry
battalions within twenty-four hours from warning. Plan Gir (Chalk), which called for the deployment of an
additional reserve tank brigade (altogether 222 tanks) and five more artillery batteries, necessitated a
warning time of thirty-six hours. The IDF’s plan for an all-out war with Syria (in parallel to an all-out war
with Egypt) was Plan Sela (Rock), which required a warning time of forty-eight hours. This plan involved
the deployment of 693 tanks and 258 artillery pieces to face 1,300 Syrian tanks, as well as 700 artillery
pieces on the front line, out of a Syrian arsenal of 1,650 tanks and 1,600 artillery pieces.

Since the Syrian buildup for war started in late August and since Israel lacked strategic depth in the

Golan, which was populated by civilian settlements, Israeli awareness of the looming threat in the north
was higher than in the south. Yet, in light of AMAN’s insistence that Egypt did not intend to launch a war
and that Syria would not initiate a war without Egypt, the main concern of Defense Minister Dayan and the
IDF high command was a small-scale Syrian attack. This was the logic behind the gradual process of
reinforcement in the Golan that started on 26September. Altogether, on the morning of 6 October, the IDF
order of battle (OB) there amounted to 176 tanks (77 from Brigade 188 and the rest from Brigade 7); eleven
artillery batteries (two 160mm heavy mortars, seven 155mm medium artillery, and two 175mm heavy
artillery); two high-quality regular service infantry battalions (Battalion 13 of the Golani Brigade and
Battalion 50 of the Paratroopers Brigade) manning the line, including the forts; and one mechanized infantry
battalion. Although it was far from the planned OB for an all-out war, it could suffice, under certain
circumstances, to prevent a catastrophe until the reserve army arrived.

Here, however, the first mistake came into play. At 6:00 a.m., the Chief of Staff ordered the commander

of the Northern Command, Major General Yitzhak Hofi, to prepare for war, which was expected to start at
6:00 p.m. At 10:00a.m., Hofi met the commanders of the three brigades in his command (188, 7, and
territorial brigade 820) and informed them that the war would start at 6:00 p.m. However, he did not order
them to deploy for war and returned to Tel Aviv for an additional meeting at general headquarters (GHQ).
Thus, when firing commenced, his command was still deployed for a local clash rather than for a full-scale
war.

According to Plan Gir (the defense of the Golan by two tank brigades), the front was to be divided into

two regimental sectors. In each, one battalion was to be deployed at the front and two others in the rear.
Each brigade commander was to filter the information from his sector to the rear in order to enable the
Command’s war room to properly digest the vast quantities of operational information and to conduct a
high-quality decision-making process. In addition, two separate advance supply centers were to be
established in order to efficiently provide the two brigades with the necessary logistics for fighting.

However, the Gir order was not given, and therefore the front was not divided into two regimental

sectors. Most of the tanks of Brigade 188 that were deployed on the front were not in their positions when

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firing commenced, and the tanks of Brigade 7 were still in battalion concentrations at the rear. The
Command’s war room was set up in the Nafakh camp, at the center of the Golan, together with the war
rooms of Brigades 188, 7, and 820. Only one advance supply center was in existence, creating a
cumbersome and risky situation in which a Syrian breakthrough in the front’s center could have destroyed
the ability of the whole force in the Golan to continue fighting.

The main outcomes of this deployment became evident shortly after the war started. Since there were
no regimental war rooms that could filter the flow of information to the Northern Command’s war room,
the front’s command and control system almost collapsed when firing commenced. The commander of
Brigade 7, Colonel Avigdor Ben-Gal, described the chaotic situation there about forty minutes after the
Syrians opened fire:

The war room bunker was an unbelievable mess. I will not exaggerate if I say that there were there

about 200 persons – commanders, soldiers, women soldiers, and all sorts of functionaries. The war rooms
of the command, of the territorial brigade of the 188 Brigade and the first elements of Division 36 were
located in the same hall [of about 50 sq. meters]. Ben Shoham, the commander of 188, ran the operations
as if it was a regular local incident.

The order to divide the front into two sectors was given only at 4:00 p.m., when Hofi returned to his

command post in Nafah. By then, however, it was too late. At2:45 p.m., the second mistaken decision had
been made in the battle for the defense of the Golan.

Israel had been in possession of the plan for a Syrian offensive since April 1973. An updated version

of the plan was delivered during a secret meeting between King Hussein of Jordan and Prime Minister
Golda Meir on the evening of 25 September. On 30 September, the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency
provided Israel with the same plan. It was distributed by AMAN on 2 October, together with an estimate
that war was unlikely.

According to the plan, the main effort of the Syrian army was to take place in the Rapid area, about

fifteen kilometers south of Kuneitra, in the southern sector of the Israeli defense line. However, the officers
of the IDF Northern Command were not aware of this document. Instead, they expected that the main Syrian
effort would be staged in the Kuneitra open land area in the northern sector of the front. Acting on this
assumption, the Command’s Assistant Chief of Staff G3 (operations), Lieutenant Colonel Uri Simhoni,
authorized the dispatch of Brigade 7, the Command’s reserve force, to the northern sector of the front in
order to block what he deemed to be the center of gravity of the Syrian attack. He did so despite the fact
that prior to 3:30 p.m., when the first Syrian tanks crossed the border, it was not yet possible to identify the
offensive’s main thrust.

The Nevo report, which was prepared as part of the official investigation of the war by the Agranat

Commission, assessed this decision as “perhaps the most decisive decision in the battle of the Golan
Heights.” Its gravity became clear as the evening hours approached, when battlefield reports indicated that
the pressure of the offensive was increasing, despite earlier expectations that the Syrians were not prepared
for night fighting. Even more importantly, it became apparent that the main Syrian effort was not
concentrated in the north, where Brigade 7 faced no considerable pressure that night, but rather in the south,
where 360 out of 600Syrian tanks were deployed. The southern sector was held by Brigade 188, which had
only 76 tanks, as compared with more than 100 in Brigade 7.

Consequently, the situation in the southern sector deteriorated rapidly. By 10 p.m., the Syrians had

penetrated the line of defense in the Hushniya area, and by midnight the tanks of Brigade 46 had already

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advanced eight kilometers into Israeli-held territory and had taken positions along the Tapline road, about
ten kilometers south of the central command post at Nafakh. Mechanized Brigade132 penetrated the line a
few kilometers to the south. At 1:20 a.m., the commander of the Northern Command and his aides left the
war room in Nafakh and returned to Command’s central command post in Mount Canaan near the town of
Safed in the Galilee. By 2:00 a.m., Brigade 188 was left with fewer than forty tanks.

In order to prevent a Syrian breakthrough into Israel proper, preparations were made for the demolition
of the six bridges over the Jordan River. Shortly afterwards, orders were issued to destroy secret documents
in the Golan’s military camps. At 4:00 a.m., Syrian forces arrived at the Gamla ascent over the Sea of
Galilee. No IDF unit stood between them and the Jordan Valley, but requests by Syrian commanders to
advance westward were denied by their commanders. They opted instead for an attack northward, toward
the IDF’s central command post in Nafakh – a move that, if successful, could have led to the collapse of the
Israeli defense in the Golan.

By 3:00 a.m., the gravity of the situation in the north began to be clear to the IDF GHQ in Tel Aviv.

The fear of a Syrian breakthrough into Israel prompted Defense Minister Moshe Dayan to go to the central
command post in Mount Canaan in order to receive first-hand reports of the state of affairs. Upon his arrival,
at about 6:00 a.m., he heard from General Hofi that the situation in the Golan was very grave and that the
bridges over the Jordan River had been prepared for demolition. Another senior and experienced officer
told him that “the fighting in the Heights’ southern sector has ended and we lost. We don’t have a force to
stop them.” A third officer added that there was nothing to stop the Syrians if they were to reach the Jordan
Valley. Consequently, Dayan sent him to organize the defense there.

In reality, by the early morning hours the situation had slightly improved since the first reserve forces

had started arriving at the front. But due to the thick fog of war and insufficient information about Syrian
intentions, Dayan estimated that only massive air support would enable the IDF to hold its positions in the
Golan Heights. Accordingly, he ordered the commander of the IAF, Major General Benny Peled, to allocate
all its resources to that front. This order led to the last two mistakes that doomed the ability of the IAF to
quickly decide the fate of the war.

The Air Force

Unlike the IDF on the southern and northern fronts, the IAF was well-prepared for the war before it
started. The IAF had been gradually increasing its state of alert since mid-September and needed only a
small-scale mobilization because it functioned mainly on the basis of regular manpower. Given its critical
role in the defense of the country, the Chief of Staff authorized mobilization of the manpower required to
bring the IAF to a full state of alert about twenty-four hours before the outbreak of the war.

The IAF started the war with 311 fighter and attack planes in operational status out of a total of 391 in

service. They were deployed at five main airfields (Ramat David, Tel Nof, Hazor, Hazerim, and Etzion)
and two secondary ones (Bir Gafagafa and Sharm al Sheik in the Sinai). Upon learning at about 4:30 a.m.
on6 October that war would start the same day, the Chief of Staff ordered the IAF to prepare for a
preemptive strike. However, Operation Dugman, the code name for the air strike against the Syrian
antiaircraft layout, which was planned for 10:00to 12:00 a.m., was called off due to bad weather conditions.
It was replaced by a planned strike against the Syrian Air Force (code name Negiha or Butt), but Moshe
Dayan and Golda Meir vetoed this act for fear of American reaction. Consequently, when shooting
commenced, many IAF planes were in the process of changing their ammunition from an attack to a defense
mission. Nevertheless, some IAF fighters succeeded in taking off on time and interrupting the Arab aerial
attack. By the evening hours, they had shot down 22 Egyptian and Syrian planes and helicopters. In

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addition, the IAF took part in the defensive battle, primarily on the Suez front, though it proved to be quite
ineffective since it had to operate in darkness and within the zone defended by Egyptian ground-to-air
missiles.

During the night hours, the IAF made final preparations for Operation Tagar – the destruction of the
Egyptian antiaircraft layout west of the Suez Canal– which had been carefully prepared since the end of the
War of Attrition in the summer of 1970. The operation combined a massive use of ground and airborne
means of electronic warfare, with the use of ground artillery for shooting chaff and shelling nearby batteries,
in order to support the main effort – an all-out attack by more than 100 Phantom F-4s, flying at low altitude
at about 550 knots and simultaneously dropping bombs to destroy the missile sites. The preparations for
Operation Tagar took thirty-six hours and were dependent, among other things, on good weather and
updated information about the location of the surface-to-air missile (SAM) batteries. The operation was to
last six hours and to be carried out in four phases. The first flight – preparation – was aimed at suppressing
the antiaircraft guns and isolating the battlefield from enemy planes. The second and main stage was the
bombing and the destruction of the missile sites. The aim of the third flight was to destroy the surviving
batteries. The last one was to takeout missile reinforcements, which were expected by this stage to start
advancing from the rear. Repeated exercises and detailed planning led the IAF commanders to conclude
that although the operation might incur significant casualties, its chances of success were high, and it would
give the IAF freedom of action over the combat zone. In spring 1973, following the buildup of a Syrian
antiaircraft layout on the Golan front, the IAF prepared a similar operation (Dugman) for the destruction of
this layout as well.

The main challenge for these operations was the introduction in 1972 of the mobile SA-6 batteries in

Egypt and Syria. Previously, a reconnaissance mission that revealed the location of the fixed SA-2 and SA-
3 batteries had enabled an immediate attack within hours. Now, the localization of the sites prior to attack
was of little use, since the SA-6 batteries had the capability to start moving within ten minutes from order
and to start firing within twelve minutes after arriving at their destination. In addition, the SA-6 batteries
could hit targets flying at 300 feet and above. Until the introduction of these systems, IAF pilots used very
low flight as the main tactic for evading missiles. The deployment of theSA-3 in Egypt in the spring of
1970 had already limited their freedom of action significantly. The introduction of the SA-6 limited it
further. The challenge posed by the SA-6 batteries was even greater in the north. The Syrian layout was
made up of fifteen SA-6 batteries and sixteen fixed SA-2 and SA-3 batteries. The Egyptian layout, west of
the canal, was made up of fifty-five batteries, only ten of which were SA-6. For this reason, the IAF planners
believed that Operation Tagar had quite a high chance of success.

The first stage of Tagar 4 began on 7 October at 6:45 a.m., when eighty Skyhawk A-4s attacked

antiaircraft gun batteries and other targets. Half an hour later, approximately forty Phantom F-4s attacked
seven Egyptian airfields in order to prevent Egyptian fighters from taking off while the main stage of
Tagarwas being carried out. The attacks were successful and achieved their operational goals with only
minor losses.

At this stage, however, the operation had already been called off. Under the impression that the IAF

was the only means by which the Syrian tanks could be blocked on their way into Israel, Dayan, who failed
to get in touch with the Chief of Staff, called General Peled directly at about 6:40 a.m. He described the
desperate situation in vivid terms, referring to a threat to “the Third Temple,” and pressed Peled to use all
his aircraft to save the situation. The Chief of Staff, who heard about the exchange, was alarmed by Dayan’s
pessimistic estimate of the situation. Together with the IAF commander he decided, at about 7:00 a.m., to
discontinue Operation Tagar and to redirect the main effort of the IAF from the south to the north.

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The decision to stop Tagar was a major mistake – and this is more than just a post factum assessment.
A number of senior IAF officers who were present in the IAF war room when it was made regarded it then
as such, but none of them objected when Peled called off the second stage of the operation. There were two
considerations that favored the continuation of Tagar 4. First5, there was a good chance that it would
succeed. Although the conditions under which it was launched were not ideal (for example, artillery support
was not available), it still had a high chance of success given the operational preparations that had been
made the night before and the fact that most of the Egyptian SA batteries were fixed. The successful
completion of the operation’s first stage had already indicated that strategy to be a good one.

Second, during the critical hours of the morning of 7 October, the conditions on the Golan front

prevented the IAF from effectively deciding the fate of the battle. The small area of terrain in which the
battle took place and the fact that the Israeli planes had to operate within the range of the Syrian antiaircraft
layout did not allow a massive use of aircraft. In addition, two squadrons of A-4shad already been
participating in the battle since the early morning hours, so there was no need to stop Tagar 4 for this
purpose.

At this juncture, the second mistake took place. Since the doctrine of the IAF called for destruction of

the enemy’s antiaircraft defense prior to its engagement in ground warfare, Peled ordered the IAF to be
prepared to carry out Operation Dugman 5 at 11:30 a.m. – at precisely the same time that he ordered the
discontinuation of Tagar. As the IDF’s official history of the war describes the situation:

The preparations and the briefings [for Operation Dugman 5] were done under time pressure, especially

because of a change of plans following the movement of the mobile SAM batteries and antiaircraft batteries
on the front. Nevertheless, the IAF started the operation at11:30, but without updated air-photographs and
without the planned artillery preparation that the artillery corps could not provide under the conditions of
the battle. The loss of the Hermon [Israel’s eyes, ears, and a major platform for electronic warfare in the
Golan] and the inability to transfer electronic warfare helicopters from the south to the north have made the
mission even more difficult.

As could be expected, Operation Dugman 5 was an almost complete failure. Since the IAF had no

updated information concerning the location of the fifteen Syrian SA-6 batteries, it bombed the sites in
which they had been located about twenty-four hours earlier. Consequently, only one battery was located
and destroyed, and another one was damaged. The rest of the bombs fell on empty sites. The immediate
cost of this failure was the shooting down of six F-4s. In the longer run, the failure shattered the IAF’s belief
in its ability to destroy the SAM layouts in Egypt and Syria.

Was it necessary to improvise the most critical and dangerous IAF operation in the north and to carry

it out in the absence of so many components that were deemed necessary for its success? In retrospect, the
answer is negative. The commander of the Northern Command testified that, with the exception of one
case, the ground forces did not feel the aerial support even after the main effort of the IAF was diverted
from the south to the north. Israel’s official history notes that “the effective air support was provided . . . .
by the planes that attacked the Syrian armor since dawn . . . . These sorties were stopped when operation
‘Dugman’ was underway – and this was during the most difficult hours in the fight for Nafakh.” Indeed,
immediately after Dugman 5 ended, the IAF was called again to divert its forces to the south, thus denying
effective air support for the ground forces in the Golan. Nevertheless, the ground forces succeeded in
containing any additional Syrian advancement, and by the evening hours, following the failure of a Syrian
attempt to occupy the Nafakh camp, the initiative taken by the IDF appeared to be sufficient.

According to the official history of the war, the way in which the IAF was used on 7 October was

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indeed a mistaken one, though specific accusations are avoided: After the war, a widespread opinion was
that the enemy succeeded to provide a cover for its ground forces by a dense “umbrella” of missiles and
anti-aircraft guns with which the IAF planes were crushed. But the picture will not be a complete one unless
it is remembered that the SAM layout did not face an organized attack, since the IAF did not have the
chance to act in a concentrated manner against the missiles at the beginning of the war. In the south, the
operation was stopped after the preparation stage and the temporary paralysis of the Egyptian airfields. And
in the north, the IAF acted under time pressure and under operational conditions that caused its failure.

Conclusions

This article posed the question as to what the main source of Israel’s military defeats was in the first
stage of the Yom Kippur War: strategic surprise or – as many now claim – inherited deficiencies in the
IDF’s preparation for the war.

Any attempt to answer this question involves a certain amount of counterfactual analysis and should

therefore be phrased in probabilistic rather than definitive terms. In order to answer the question, this article
identified six major mistakes that doomed the initial phase of the war. Two took place on the Suez front:
the first was the manning of the Bar Lev line by second-rate forces rather than by high quality soldiers, as
was planned earlier; and the second was the decision to delay the deployment of Division 252 until the last
moment. Two took place in the north: the first was the failure to deploy the available regular forces
according to Plan Gir, despite the fact that the IDF had sufficient time to do so; and the second was the
decision to allocate the Command’s stronger force (Brigade 7) to the defense of the front’s northern sector
before locating the Syrian main effort. Finally, two mistakes took place in the air: the first was the decision
to call off Operation Tagar 4 despite its high chance of success, and the second was the decision to launch
Operation Dugman 5 despite its very high chance of failure.

An analysis of the context within which these mistakes were made shows that their main source, and

therefore the source of Israel’s military failures at the beginning of the war, was the fact that until eight
hours before it broke out, war was not expected, certainly not with such a short warning time. Adding to
the high level of strategic surprise was the fact that firing commenced four hours earlier than predicted.

The way in which the IDF’s ground forces were deployed on the Suez front when the war started was

primarily the direct outcome of the intelligence failure. All operational plans in the south assumed that even
a twenty-four-hour warning would enable the replacement of the reservists in the Bar Lev line forts by high-
quality regular infantry soldiers and the deployment of the tanks and the artillery of Division 252 in their
pre-prepared positions. The fact that force replacement at the Bar Lev line did not take place was solely the
outcome of surprise. The fact that Division 252 was not deployed for war in time was largely attributable
to the same cause, as well as to the poor judgment of the Southern Command commander, who, by his own
testimony, avoided immediate deployment of his available forces based on the belief that such a move
might trigger an unintentional war. Obviously, that belief was the direct outcome of insufficient warning.
This scenario is somewhat reminiscent of Joseph Stalin’s belief, during the first hours of the German
invasion of the U.S.S.R. on 22 June 1941, that the German action did not necessarily mean war and that a
prudent Soviet reaction might prevent it. Gonen’s decision also reflected his poor level of military
professionalism, as he did not act in accordance with the direct orders given to him by the Chief of Staff.

In the Golan, insufficient warning was the only cause for the IDF’s failed order of battle on 6 October.

The IDF plan for war called for the deployment of two divisions, with close to 700 tanks and over 250
artillery pieces on this front. The course of the fighting in the Golan during its first hours indicates that even
with the minimal available forces, the IDF had a chance to contain the Syrian advancement until the arrival

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of the reserve army, had the order to allocate the larger share of the scarce available forces to the northern
sector not been given. The fact that the weaker Brigade 188 had to block the Syrian main effort while the
stronger Brigade 7 faced a lesser Syrian pressure is the key event that led to the collapse of the southern
sector. The mistaken deployment order that was given less than an hour after the outbreak of the war was
not the direct outcome of surprise, but was influenced by the fast pace of unexpected events and the chaotic
atmosphere in the unprepared war room. Moreover, it should be remembered that had sufficient forces been
available to the Command from the start, there would have been no need to make such a critical decision.
In this sense, the second mistake in the Golan reflected, perhaps, a poor level of professional judgment, but
was also highly influenced by the element of strategic surprise.

Finally, the two mistaken decisions regarding the use of the IAF were indirectly the outcome of surprise.

Both were made in light of the dire situation that was developing in the southern sector of the Golan front
and the fear that, with hardly any ground forces to block them, the Syrian tanks were likely to invade Israel
at its pre-1967 borders. This grim situation was, as concluded above, primarily the outcome of insufficient
intelligence warning for the impending outbreak of war. Certainly, when Moshe Dayan made his demand
to allocate the whole might of the IAF to the north, there were other available alternatives to this decision,
and when the IAF commander complied with it, other officers around him regarded it as a mistake. As such,
the decision to discontinue Operation Tagar and to initiate Operation Dugman was not the only, and
ultimately not the best, approach to the difficult situation. But the fact that both operations failed probably
has less to do with fundamental mistakes in the preparations of the IAF for war than with the way it was
used to destroy the antiaircraft layouts in Egypt and Syria.

This article has shown that the main cause for Israel’s military defeats in the first stage of the 1973 war

was the element of strategic surprise. Nevertheless, it is important to note other sources as well: certain
weaknesses in the IDF war planning (overreliance on intelligence warning and ineffective air-ground
coordination); force structure (overreliance on aircraft and tanks); and, in some cases, poor quality of staff
work and military professionalism. But all these weaknesses were a secondary cause for the military defeats,
and in most cases were manifested under pressure, which by itself was the direct outcome of surprise. It is
quite probable that if surprise had been averted and sufficient IDF forces had been deployed when the war
started, the Egyptian and Syrian offensives would have been repelled from the start, at a rather low cost to
the defending forces. Under such circumstances, it is quite possible that no one would have faulted the IDF
for any mistakes in its preparation for the war. Above all, it must be emphasized that the final outcome of
the war was an Israeli military victory – one that was achieved despite the difficult conditions under which
the IDF had to function once the first stage of the war was over. This constitutes the best proof that strategic
surprise rather than fundamental weaknesses was the independent variable that doomed the outcome of the
war in its initial stage. Improper preparations for war served, and only in some respects, as an intervening
variable that facilitated this outcome.

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity
L421: Reading C

An Autocracy at War
Author: Risa Brooks

In the June 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Egypt shocked the world with its atrocious performance

in battle, only to stun the world again with its remarkable military turnaround in the October
1973 war. Existing studies, which emphasize culture, social structure, and regime type, have a
difficult time explaining why this single autocratic state, in such a short period of time, exhibited
such extremes in its military competence. None can explain both why Egypt performed so poorly
in 1967 and improved so significantly in 1973. Other explanations such as military strategy and
learning explain the puzzle in part, but they alone cannot account for the outcome. This article
presents a theory that accounts for the divergence in effectiveness, focusing on underlying
differences in the fabric of the autocratic regime. It argues that changes in the balance of civil-
military power in the state—born from more fundamental differences in domestic politics in the
autocracy—shaped three areas of military activity critical to military effectiveness: strategic
assessment, command, and control, and leadership. In developing this argument, the article both
contributes to growing scholarship on the sources of states’ military effectiveness and explains
why Egypt’s performance varied so significantly in these historically consequential wars.

In June 1967 Egypt shocked the world with its abysmal performance in battle against Israel. On 5 June,
after three weeks of simmering crisis, the Israelis destroyed nearly every plane of the Egyptian air force on
the ground. In the ensuing war, substantial numbers of Egyptian commanders proved in- competent on the
battlefield, brittle command structures crumbled under the pressure of war, forces proved poorly trained,
and operational plans were convoluted and confused. Despite its significant numerical strengths in
personnel and equipment, Egypt gave a disastrous performance on the battlefield.

Even more stunning, however, was that six years later Egypt would plan and execute one of the most

remarkable campaigns in military history: Egyptian forces crossed the Suez Canal and overwhelmed
Israel’s fortifications on the east bank at the start of the 1973 October war. In the war that followed Egypt
demonstrated considerable improvements in military activity—in areas such as leadership, training,
strategic assessment, and operational planning. As a result, the Egyptian military proved a capable enemy
that imposed significant costs in war far beyond what Israel, its adversary, ever anticipated was possible.
As one Israeli general lamented as he battled Arab forces in 1973, “It’s not the Egyptian Army of 1967.”
And as General Ariel Sharon put it, “I have been fighting [Arab forces] for 25 years, and all the rest were
just battles. This was a real war.

In short, in just a few short years Egypt gave two notable performances on the battlefield: one is

commonly cited as among the worst examples of military failure, and one is cited as among the most
dramatic military turnarounds in recent memory. What explains these differences in Egypt’s military
effectiveness? Why did Egypt perform so miserably in 1967? How did it then achieve such remarkable
improvement in 1973?

Existing scholarship has a difficult time accounting for this puzzle. Egypt experienced no major change

in culture or social structure during this time period—factors scholars highlight in explaining why states
vary in their military effectiveness. Nor did Egypt experience a change in regime type— from autocracy to

Go to Table of Contents

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democracy—which scholars also suggest might explain improvements in battlefield effectiveness. None of
this scholarship can explain why a single authoritarian state, such as Egypt, exhibited such significant
variation in its capacity to create military power in such a short period of time

Egypt’s threat environment also cannot explain its successes and failures. Realists might argue, for

example, that Egypt faced no significant threat in the 1960s and therefore had little reason to focus its
energies on ensuring its military competence prior to the 1967 war. Whatever Egypt’s pre-war weaknesses,
however, realist logic also suggests military activity should have improved at least during the three week
crisis that preceded the June war. My analysis below, however, shows that despite the very real threat of
war, international incentives did not alleviate, and instead exacerbated, the weaknesses of Egyptian military
activity.

In the early 1970s, the Israeli “threat” did unify Egypt’s political and military leaders in their desire to

regain territory lost in 1967, as realist logic might predict. Despite this basic agreement, however, political
and military leaders disagreed fiercely about the best strategy to accomplish the goal. International factors
do not explain how Anwar Sadat was able to overcome his senior officers’ resistance and revamp his
military to execute his war plan in 1973—especially when, as I detail below, his powerful predecessor,
Gamal Abdel Nasser, had been unable to overrule and reform his military in 1967. In sum, international
pressures can help explain the incentive to field an effective military, but they alone cannot account for why
Egypt was so incapable of doing so in 1967 and so much better prepared in 1973.

Two other factors partially account for the outcome, but alone also can-not explain it. The first is

Egypt’s military strategy in the two wars. Most importantly, in 1973 Egypt was able to launch a first strike
and take the Israelis by surprise. This conferred important advantages as it does to states that succeed in
surprising their adversaries—they can carefully script their operations and catch their adversaries
unprepared. The surprise attack thus made it easier for Egypt to take maximum advantage of improvements
in military activity during its crossing operation. But the very fact that Egypt was able to formulate and
execute a surprise attack is significant: the sophistication of the strategy begs the question of how Egypt
was able to execute it in the first place. As it was, the Egyptian military developed an elaborate deception
plan, rigorously controlled information in the chain of command, and maintained operational security, all
of which required substantial improvement in the military’s organizational competency. Without that
improvement, Sadat could have wanted a surprise offensive, but Egypt could have easily failed in
implementing the strategy.

Alternatively, Egypt was the victim of a preemptive strike in 1967: it deliberately chose to absorb a

first strike by Israel before launching a counterattack. Egypt therefore lacked the advantages of being on
the operational offensive. This certainly did not help Egypt’s military effort, but it is unclear that Egypt
could have fared much better had it chosen to attack first. As I detail below, poor strategic assessment,
command and control, and leadership rendered the Egyptian military woefully unprepared for any type of
war by early June 1967. Given the appalling state of the Egyptian military, it is difficult to imagine Egypt
would have fought much better even had it attacked Israel’s forces first.

Second, Egypt benefited from lessons of prior wars about the strengths of Israel’s forces and its own

weaknesses. These lessons help explain improvements in Egypt’s military activity in the October war. But
they also raise the question of why Egypt was able to learn in 1973 and not in earlier wars. After all, Egypt
had exhibited significant failings in the 1956 Suez conflict, yet these had been virtually ignored prior to the
1967 war. Analyses of the 1956 imbroglio, in fact, were only released after the 1967 war when they, along
with the record from the latter, were carefully studied and used to plan the 1973 offensive. Learning was
therefore key, but a necessary pre-condition was the establishment of a command willing and able to learn

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from the past.

To understand how Egypt was able to learn and implement its ambitious strategy in 1973—and why it

was so poorly prepared for war in 1967—one needs to look to the country’s civil-military relations. In both
1967 and 1973, Egypt’s military performances were heavily shaped by the domestic politics of the
authoritarian regime and how those affected the civil-military balance of power within the state. In the
1960s, political and military leaders were sharing power in the regime. Both had civilian allies within
society, and the military leadership was unified. As a result, both could compete for control of military
affairs. Competition over policymaking prerogatives, in turn, affected military activities essential to Egypt’s
performance in 1967—strategic assessment, senior appointments and leadership, and strategic command
and control. Problems in these areas filtered throughout the military organization, damaging Egypt’s
effectiveness in 1967.

In the late 1960s, changes in the military’s position in Egyptian society, in the officer corps’ internal

unity, and in the social bases of the political regime altered the civil-military balance of power. As a result,
Anwar Sadat, when he came to power, enjoyed remarkable latitude for action in relations with his military,
which transformed strategic assessment and decision-making, command and control, and the quality of the
senior military leadership. These changes are critical to explaining the improvements in Egypt’s capability
in1973.

In short, this article helps illuminate the sources of Egypt’s military (in) effectiveness in these two vital

wars. More broadly, it offers a general argument about one source of potential variation in autocracies’
military effectiveness, pointing to differences in the domestic politics and civil-military relations of these
regimes. As the Egyptian cases above suggest, states in which both political and military leaders are sharing
power and competing for control of military policy-making are likely to be especially poorly prepared for
war. In contrast, where a political leader is dominant, these competitive pressures are mitigated; militaries
should have an easier time in critical areas of military activity and should be able to realize more of their
war-fighting potential.

Conceptually, the article contributes to efforts to identify the pathological tendencies of different

authoritarian regimes, focusing in particular on their war-making abilities. For the most part, analysts in
international relations tend to treat authoritarian states as a uniform group in contrast with democracies.
This article, however, suggests that lumping autocracies can be an analytical mistake. As scholars of
comparative politics have long under- stood, these states vary internally in significant patterns. The article
illustrates, for example, how even apparently subtle distinctions in an autocratic state’s domestic politics
can have an enormous impact on the state’s civil-military relations and military effectiveness.

Beyond its conceptual value, explaining the Egyptian puzzle also has significant practical utility. Egypt

may be unique in many ways, but there is good reason to expect that the civil-military dynamics observed
here could manifest in states with a similar autocratic flavor—those in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and
historical Latin America where military organizations are often influential political constituencies. Such
states have the potential to experience shifts in their internal politics of the kind I describe here that lead to
political-military competition over security policy-making, with devastating effects on the state’s efficacy
in international conflicts. By exploring the domestic politics and civil-military relations of autocratic states,
this article offers tools to scholars and analysts in assessing these states’ military effectiveness.

Finally, the Egyptian cases are important for historical reasons. The 1967and 1973 wars are arguably

two of the most important conflicts of the twentieth century. In the first case, Egypt’s early military failings
contributed to the rapid escalation of the war in the region. The war ended with Israel occupying critical

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areas of Egypt, Syria, and Palestine. Today, control of the land Israel captured in 1967 is a key source of
contention between Israelis and Palestinians and a catalyst for tensions in the Arab world. In contrast,
Egypt’s successes in the 1973 war paved the way for renewed negotiations between Egypt and Israel and,
ultimately, the 1979 peace treaty. That treaty was the first and only peace treaty between the Jewish state
and an Arab neighbor until 1994. In both wars, Egypt’s losses and successes and the chain of events they
unleashed had an enormous impact on the region and the world.

DOMESTIC POLITICS AND THE POLITICAL-MILITARY BALANCEOF POWER

Analysts have long observed that autocracies vary in their civil-military relations. Less clear is how
those differences translate into states’ capacities to create military power. I argue that one dimension of
civil-military relations— the balance of power—is especially important to understanding differences in
autocracies’ military effectiveness. The configuration of power at the apex of decision-making affects
activities essential to organizing and preparing for war, which then affects the ability to generate power on
the battlefield. In the following section, I begin developing this argument by explaining why the balance of
civil-military power varies. Here, I draw heavily on research in comparative politics, which often
emphasizes the social context of civil-military relations.

In my argument, the balance of power depends first on the military’s influence in society at large and

ties to civilian society. When, for example, military organizations form alliances with key classes or social
groups, they often gain in influence within the state. Thus, in his seminal study, Guillermo O’Donnell
highlights the importance of the armed forces’ ties to the middle class as a key source of influence for Latin
American militaries. Similarly, scholars of Wilhelmine Germany often point to ties between the historical
Prussian army and the agricultural class to explain the influence of the former in the state. Even absent
alliances with structurally important groups, however, militaries gain influence as a result of their popularity
within mass society. All things equal, a military leader representing a highly-popular or socially-connected
institution should be able to exert more pressure over political leaders than one lacking those connections.
Conversely, when the population disdains the military establishment and when ties to pivotal social
constituencies are missing, such that the military lacks a foothold in mass society and civilian allies, military
leaders should have less sway

A second factor that affects the balance of power is the internal unity of the senior military leadership

and officer corps. Studies of Latin American militaries, for example, commonly focus on the importance
of factions within the military leadership. Factions also figure prominently within the literature on the coup
d’état, where the success of a coup depends on the unity of the officer corps. Here, I am interested in the
degree to which there is evidence within the top echelons of the officer corps of a cohesive group (for
example, a dominant faction) or whether there are multiple groups competing with one another. A united
military leadership will be able to pose a more credible threat to a leader’s position than one that is divided;
a political leader will have an easier time playing divide and conquer when the senior military leadership is
divided. Hence, the balance of power also depends on the unity of the officer corps. An internally
competitive or factionalized leadership has less sway over political leaders. Military leaders are more
powerful unified, than divided

Finally, the political leader’s ties to domestic society affect the balance of power. Just like their

democratic counterparts, political leaders in autocracies rely on social support to secure their rule. As
Waterbury puts it, “All systems of rule have coalitional underpinnings, and they typically contain
constituents that spread across formal state agencies and dependencies into civil society . . .” In an
autocracy, those constituencies often include some mix of the following: prominent economic classes
(subsistence farmers and urban workers, large landholders and private capital), clerics and religious groups,

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ethnic groups, religious interests, party apparatuses, and elements of the state bureaucracy (including the
security services), public sector and civil service, as well as the conventional armed forces.

Political leaders derive power in relations with their military leaders from their positions in society and
their abilities to secure support from these salient groups. The logic here is that a leader’s influence with
any one group in his coalition (such as the military) is strengthened by the degree of support he draws from
others. At the extreme, when a leader has consolidated support among multiple constituencies, the leader
can float on top of all them. He can balance one against the others in the equivalent of domestic balance-
of-power politics. Thus, even where the military is a powerful constituency in society-at-large, the social
support a leader can draw upon secures his position: it allows him to minimize the degree to which he relies
on military support for his position and therefore enhances his bargaining power with its leaders.
Alternatively, the absence of social support or fractures within the civilian base can enhance the military’s
relative position.

Together these three factors—the military’s social position, political leaders’ social position and

military leaders’ unity—interact to affect the balance of power between a political leader and the chiefs of
the military establishment. The broader a leader’s social base becomes, the more the military’s base
attenuates; the more internally competitive the military leadership is, the more leverage a political leader
should enjoy in relations with his military leaders at the apex of decision-making. In sum, one has to look
at the entire coalition—the military’s role as well as the civilian role—to determine the military’s influence.

While the balance of political-military power is continuous in principle, I distinguish two ideal typical

cases. I focus on these because I expect they will be especially important in assessing differences in
organizational activity and military effectiveness within autocratic states.

The first is a case in which the domestic situation favors the political leader. Here, the political leader

rules with an expansive social base, which incorporates an array of constituencies and faces a military
leadership that lacks independent social allies and is internally divided. I call this “political dominance.”
Political leaders exercise significant authority, retain decision- making prerogatives and can structure the
military to protect their access to information. This, as I explain below, facilitates important improvements
in military activity and increased effectiveness in war.

In the second case, both political and military leaders are influential in the domestic political arena.

Power is divided between political military leaders when the political leader retains a solid civilian base,
but the military also has social allies and influence and its leadership is unified. I term this “shared power.”
In this case, political and military leaders compete over the ability to direct military activity. This internal
regime rivalry, in turn, undermines military activity and the processes whereby states organize and prepare
for war.

IMPLICATIONS FOR MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS

The civil-military balance of power affects three areas of military activity essential to states’ military
effectiveness. Note that by military effectiveness I am referring to the attributes of a military organization—
as reflected in its internal military activities—that allow it to take its material and human strengths and
translate them into power on the battlefield. As such, a state’s military effectiveness affects its probability
of battlefield success but does not solely determine it; it is one factor among several that affects outcomes
in war. Thus, even a very effective military may lose a war if it faces a more effective adversary or one that
is simply wealthier in resources. Effectiveness, in the present usage, describes a state’s intrinsic capacity to
realize its military potential. It tells us when a state is going to live up to the promise implied by its material

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capabilities or when it is apt to be a weak adversary on the battlefield.

The first military activity that the civil-military balance of power affects is the state’s process of

strategic assessment. This is the means through which state leaders evaluate their positions in an interstate
conflict and (ideally) develop a political and military strategy with which to respond. Within these
processes, leaders evaluate how to organize and use their military forces in the event of an armed conflict.
Military strategy and the broad outlines of a state’s operational or campaign plan are developed.

Within the assessment process, the manner of exchanging information in the political-military

consultation phase and the rigor of the evaluation process are key. Strategic assessment may or may not
occur within formalized structures (that is, national security councils). While such entities are more
common in the modern area, historically, strategic assessment has often occurred in less formalized
forums—in the king’s chambers or dictator’s offices. Regardless, what matters are the conventions and
routines observed within these entities. As one analyst notes, the quality of strategic assessment depends
on problem identification, the assessment of alternatives, and the degree to which information and
assumptions are tested. The allocation of decision-making prerogatives within advisory entities is also
critical. Rights of final approval and veto must be clearly articulated. In the absence of a clear structure of
authority, it is difficult to make firm commitments to a particular strategy and to ensure that military
bureaucracies implement it.

A second area of military activity that the civil-military balance of power affects is strategic command

and control. The structure of command determines how rights and responsibilities are allocated within the
military hierarchy—whose approval is required for what action and who is accountable for those decisions.
The clarity and fluidity of command and control affect a military organization’s ability to act in a
coordinated way, to respond to developments in wartime, and to modify activity accordingly. They affect
a military’s ability to operate in a coherent and responsive fashion.

A third critical area that internal civil-military politics can affect is the criteria for officer appointments

and promotions. Conventions for advancement shape the internal norms of a military organization, affecting
its adherence to meritocratic standards and influencing the quality of leadership throughout the entity.
Appointment and promotions may seem mundane, but in reality they are one of the most important
mechanisms for change within a military organization. Who is chosen for what position affects everything
from the discipline and skill applied to peacetime planning to the quality of command in the heat of battle.
These processes are essential to a military’s organizational competence and ultimately to its ability to
generate power on the battlefield.

Shared Power vs. Political Dominance and Military Activities

These three military activities are compromised when political and military leaders share power and
compete for control of military affairs. Strategic assessment, for example, is likely to be very poor. Fiercely
protective of their access to information, military leaders will share selectively their private information
with the political leader, compromising strategic assessment; the political leader has little recourse to
monitor the military or require its leaders to be more forthcoming. Political and military leaders also will
be wary of coordinating and engaging one another and may resist forums they perceive as stacked with
allies—other military officials or diplomats—of the other. Military leaders are also likely to resist political
leaders’ efforts to assert control of the decision-making process as well as their efforts to veto and approve
policy. In total, competitive pressures in these civil-military settings undermine the sharing of information
and the coordination of leaders as military strategy is formulated and operational issues in war-planning are
addressed.

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Shared power also fosters convolutions in the chain of command, as political and military leaders both
try to project their authority into the military hierarchy. Each has strong incentives to ensure that checks
and balances are inserted into the chain of command to allow oversight of military activity. Political and
military leaders will consequently compete over the allocation of responsibilities in the chain of command.
Each will try and structure authority to enhance his own or his allied officers’ control of military activity.
This creates convoluted structures that undermine the integrity of command and control in peacetime and
war.

Finally, shared power magnifies incentives of both political and military leaders to elevate partisanship

relative to merit-based standards in promoting officers to pivotal posts; this potentially compromises the
quality of leadership in the military organization. When military chiefs are competing for control of the
military, an individual’s political reliability is likely to become increasingly important in choosing officers
to fill key posts. Political leaders, too, must pay attention to the political leanings of those they support for
advancement. When military or political leaders prevail in the selection process, the victor will likely insert
allies whose loyalty is unquestioned. When they must settle on compromise candidates, military and
political leaders are likely to choose lackluster candidates who are not threats to either. In effect, this means
selection criteria are biased against talent and skill, which should compromise the quality of leadership
observed within the military organization.

In contrast, when a political leader is firmly in control, these competitive pressures on military activity

are mitigated. Strategic assessment should improve. A political leader retains the authority to impose
monitoring mechanisms on his leaders. Agency problems will persist, as it is impossible to induce full
compliance on the part of military authorities, but the most egregious violations of political directives will
be absent. The military can no longer defy requests for information or participation in coordinating entities.
This allows for joint coordination and the exchange of information.

When a political leader is firmly in charge, he also has greater control over how responsibilities are

allocated in the chain of command. Although a leader may create safeguards that allow him to monitor the
military hierarchy himself, he is not also pressured to accommodate checks and balances in the chain of
command to protect his military leader’s demands. These dynamics do not necessarily eliminate all
organizational weaknesses in autocratic militaries, but they eliminate dynamics that can create convolutions
and ambiguities and, therefore, exacerbate weaknesses in command and control.

Finally, a political leader’s solid standing in civilian society lessens incentives to elevate partisanship

over considerations of skill. It is unlikely he will ignore political factors altogether in senior appointments.
He can, however, better afford to incorporate other considerations into his calculus, in part because his
position is secure domestically and in part because he retains other mechanisms of monitoring and control
to safeguard against military opposition. In addition, the destructive effects of open disputes and
competition over appointments and promotions are absent here. This means that when a leader is inclined
to emphasize skill and merit (perhaps for international reasons), he can promote officers with those
qualities. Consequently, the quality of leadership should improve. As a result, these militaries should have
an easier time in critical areas of military activity and should be able to realize more of their war-fighting
potential.

I am not suggesting that just because a political leader is secure politically and dominates his military,

strategic assessment will be fully rationalized. Nor do I suggest that the leader will appoint only skilled and
talented officers. In fact, much of the scholarship on military effectiveness in authoritarian regimes suggests
that even when political leaders are in control, there should be some politicization of military activity.
Political leaders often have incentives to ensure political loyalty in sensitive appointments to protect

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themselves from challengers to their positions. They impose their own checks and safeguards in the chain
of command in order to monitor the armed forces’ activities. These oversight methods often hinder military
effectiveness

These problems notwithstanding, I expect that competition, of the kind I describe above, should put

even more pressure on intra-military organizational processes. A political leader may impede the efficiency
of command and control with his efforts to monitor the military, but when military leaders are trying to
obstruct those efforts and impose their own checks and safeguards, the structure becomes even more
convoluted. If loyalty is important in general in appointments, it becomes even more paramount when a
leader is facing a challenge from his military chiefs for the allegiance of the officer corps.

Moreover, even if a dominant political leader’s management techniques undercut organizational

efficiency, he retains the power to promote reform when necessary. Leaders may elevate considerations of
skill over purely partisan concerns, as suggested by Saddam Hussein’s leadership changes in the final
phases of the Iran-Iraq War. Fearing more devastating losses in the war, Saddam replaced key commanders
with more capable officers. Many attribute the significant improvement in Iraq’s effectiveness during the
war’s final phases to these leadership changes. In contrast, a political leader facing opposition from his
military leaders may seek to rationalize military activity— like Nasser in the mid-1960s—but he will lack
the power to intervene and do so.

In short, the absence of competition removes a critical structural constraint on improvements in military

activity. States with divided control over military policy should be especially challenged in organizing
themselves for war.

EXPLAINING EGYPTIAN MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS, 1967 AND 1973

Below, I apply this general argument to Egypt’s experiences in the 1967 and 1973 Arab-Israeli wars. I
begin with an overview of those wars, then discuss civil-military relations in each time period and analyze
their effects on military activity and military effectiveness.

The International Context of the Egypt Cases

From May to June 1967, Egypt’s President Nasser initiated a crisis with Israel that would end in a
devastating war three weeks later. The crisis began soon after the Soviets passed to Egypt what later proved
to be a false report that Israel was deploying forces on the Syrian border. Regional tensions were high at
the time and Egypt, under pressure from its allies and competitors in the Arab world, decided to deploy
forces to the Sinai Peninsula ostensibly to deter future Israeli attacks against Syria. This was followed by a
request for a redeployment or withdrawal of United Nations peacekeepers then stationed in the Sinai (they
had been there since the Suez crisis) in order to make way for Egypt’s forces. Shortly thereafter, in an
important escalation of the crisis, Nasser called for the closure of the Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping. In
response, Israel shuffled its cabinet and on 1 June appointed the hawkish Moshe Dayan minister of war.
Recognizing the growing signs that war was imminent, Nasser warned his military chiefs on 2 June that
Israel would attack in forty-eight to seventy-two hours. On 5 June the Israelis attacked, destroying nearly
all of Egypt’s air force on the ground. The war ended just a day and half later after Egypt’s military chief
issued an order to withdraw from the Sinai Peninsula; this precipitated a chaotic and deadly exodus of
Egyptian forces. At the end of the war, Israel was in control of the Sinai Peninsula from Gaza to the east
bank of the Suez Canal.

When Sadat came to power after Nasser’s death in September 1970, he sought to negotiate the return

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of the Sinai Peninsula (in addition, initially, to other occupied territories). However, his early attempts at
promoting a peaceful settlement failed. Israel had little incentive to give away territory that it won relatively
easily in 1967. Ultimately, Sadat resolved that military action was necessary to alter the political
calculations of the Israelis. Egypt then adopted a plan to recapture ten to fifteen kilometers strip of land
adjacent to the east bank of the Suez Canal. The objective of the limited war operation—Operation Spark,
as Sadat termed it—was to alter Israel’s and the superpowers’ calculations about the costs and risks of the
unresolved territorial dispute and ultimately deliver the Sinai back to Egypt’s hands through a reinvigorated
negotiation process.

In a surprise attack in October 1973, Egypt launched a crossing operation in which Egypt successfully

overwhelmed Israel’s defensive fortifications, the Bar Lev line, expelled the Israelis, and established a
fortified presence along the length of the east bank of the canal. Ten days later Israel recovered and managed
to breach Egypt’s defensive line. By the end of the war, after the superpowers intervened to enforce a cease-
fire resolution, Israel had encircled Egypt’s Third Army on the east bank of the canal. Most analysts
attribute ultimate victory to Israel. Regardless, most observers—and not least the Israelis—were stunned
by the dramatic improvement in Egypt’s military effectiveness.

Below, I show how Egypt’s domestic politics can help account for differences in military effectiveness

in the mid-1960s and early 1970s. In the mid-1960s, Egypt’s President Nasser ruled with a broad-based
civilian coalition and faced an influential and unified military leadership. As Nasser and his military chief,
Abdel Hakim Amer, increasingly clashed, they both began to compete for control of military affairs. This
undermined key military activities and helps explain some of the most consequential and extreme
weaknesses in Egypt’s effectiveness observed in 1967. In contrast, power relations in the early 1970s had
changed considerably, as a result of prior domestic changes in the state. Anwar Sadat was firmly in control.
This alleviated the effects, observed in the mid-1960s, of competition on appointments and leadership,
strategic assessment, and command and control and facilitated the significant improvements in Egypt’s
military effectiveness in 1973.

Civil-Military Relations in the 1960s

Publicly, in the late 1950s and 1960s, Gamal Abdel Nasser was a formidable figure in the Arab world

and a major voice in regional affairs. A powerful and charismatic leader, he sought to export his brand of
Arab-socialism and enhance his influence abroad. At home, he also sought civilian support for his regime.
Beginning in 1954, as president of Egypt, Nasser’s regime cultivated support among a diffuse coalition of
workers, rural landholders, professional classes, and within the right and left of the Egyptian elite. A
snapshot of the initiatives Nasser pursued reveals this coalitional pattern. His regime, for example,
promoted land reform, established price controls for essential foodstuffs and rent on property, subsidized
transportation, established minimum wage laws, and instituted labor welfare legislation. In addition to these
efforts, Nasser passed laws guaranteeing jobs to all university graduates, so that by the mid-1960s, the
regime was employing 60 percent of university graduates, including nearly 100 percent of the country’s
engineers and scientists. In this way, Nasser used the bureaucracy to wed the professional classes to the
regime.

In public, both at home and abroad, Nasser seemed secure and powerful. Behind the scenes, however,

he was facing a growing challenge from the leader of a powerful clique in the military, Abdel Hakim Amer.
The military leadership (as well as the officer corps as a whole) was increasingly unified during this period.
Amer secured his officers’ loyalties by providing them with special prerogatives and privileges. They were
given lavish social clubs, good salaries, and ready access to consumer goods. In general, “great care [was]
taken to shield [officers] from difficult or abrasive aspects of daily living.” They led “a life considerably

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more luxurious than that of their civilian colleagues.” Within the officer corps itself, Amer maintained a
close coterie of loyalists. Many of these were war college classmates of the top administrator of his
patronage network, Shams Badran

At the same time, Amer sought to expand the military’s influence in the civilian arena. A sample of the

titles Amer carried by 1967 indicates his growing presence in the civilian arena: first vice president of the
regime, deputy commander of the armed forces, president of the Higher Economic Committee, president
of the High Dam, chairman of the Committee for the Liquidation of Feudalism, executive within the soccer
federation and the fishing and transportation industries. These responsibilities allowed him to shape the
composition and activities of key organizations, to sideline potential opponents, and to reward loyal forces.
Although these organizations were not exclusively under the military’s influence, Amer used his position
increasingly to promote his and his cohort of allies’ substantial influence within Egyptian society.

In response to Amer’s growing influence, during the 1960s, Nasser sought to build alternative power

bases to counter the military. Among these was the Arab Socialist Union (ASU), established in 1962, which
brought together representatives from the regime’s key bases of political support. Although far from a
representative party apparatus, the ASU mobilized and penetrated untapped civilian constituencies,
including subsistence farmers and workers. As such, the ASU represented the regimes determination to
mobilize constituencies that had always been on the margins of political life and that could be expected to
support the regime.

Within the ASU, Nasser also created a vanguard organization, which included a secret network of

personally controlled supporters. Among the initiatives undertaken by the ASU was the establishment of
the Youth Organization, which existed “as a mobilization weapon to counter the military’s strength.”
Interestingly enough, one of the Youth Organization’s activities was Coup Theater— role-playing how to
react in the event of a military coup. As testament to the efficacy of the ASU as a counterweight to the
army, Amer began to grow suspicious of the organization by 1965, viewing it as a challenge to his authority.

In sum, while Nasser relied on the military for support, he also had a substantial civilian base of support,

composed of both groups from within civilian society and the Egyptian elite. This social support was
important, but the civil-military balance of power also depended on the cohesion of the military leadership
and its ties to society. For his part, Amer had the loyalty and support of his sizable base within the military
and was increasingly cultivating key civilian constituencies as well. As one observer summarized the
situation, “Amer had the army, but Nasser had the people.” In short, by the mid-1960s, a chasm divided the
twin political and military pillars of the regime. Neither was able to clearly dominate the other. As one
observer remarked, “It is clear in retrospect that even Nasser, whose authority people thought was absolute,
was . . . in fact sharing power with Amer, and neither was in total control.” This competition, in turn, had a
profound and adverse effect on Egyptian military activity in the three-week crisis and ensuing war against
Israel in May and June 1967.

Military Activities

The competition between Amer and Nasser took an especially significant toll on strategic assessment
during the May–June crisis. The process for evaluating Egypt’s strategic situation and possible military
options suffered considerably, even while political developments unfolded rapidly. To start, the quality of
information sharing between the leaders was poor. Amer carefully guarded his private information about
military matters. Suspicious of Nasser, Amer also treated information supplied by the president from the
latter’s own sources with disregard. Amer also purposely altered information he supplied to Nasser, such
as the willingness of the Soviets to support Egypt in a potential war. In addition, joint political-military

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consultation and analysis was far from systematic. As one prominent observer described their interaction
in the May-June crisis, “Both Nasser and Amer seemed to be influenced by the remarks of the last person
they talked to. There seems to be no organization or functioning command structure which can come up
with an objective assessment; everything appears to be politicized and unsystematic.

These problems in strategic assessment are vividly illustrated in the critical meeting of 2 June, three

days prior to Israel’s 5 June attack on Egypt’s airfields. As noted above, at that meeting, Nasser warned
Amer and the air force commander that he anticipated that a preemptive strike against the air force would
take place within the next seventy-two hours. He recommended that protective measures be taken. Amer,
however, was skeptical of Nasser’s information. His own private intelligence sources had been playing
down the imminence of an Israeli attack. However, rather than sit down and analyze the possible
significance of this contradictory information, as a rigorous process of strategic assessment would entail,
Amer simply dismissed Nasser’s information as incorrect, and consultation broke down. Consequently, the
air force chief, Mohammed Sidqi, “did not direct any precautionary measures in either aircraft dispersals
or routine flying operations.” The planes might have been dispersed to airfields out of range of Israeli
aircraft or at least distant from Israeli air bases. Instead, they were in advanced airfields aligned wing-to-
wing on their tarmacs only five minutes flying time from Israel

Competition also manifested in the political and military leaders’ efforts to project authority into the

chain of command. This, in turn, introduced divisions and convolutions in the peacetime and wartime
command and control structure. Two examples illustrate these dynamics—the creation of the Ground
Forces Command (GFC) and Advance Command. In 1964 Nasser pressured Amer into appointing General
Mohammed Fawzi to the position of chief of the general staff. In theory, the appointment was important
because the chief of staff was responsible for training and the peacetime integration of the service branches.
The problem from Amer’s perspective, however, was that he believed Fawzi was an ally of Nasser. By
having Fawzi appointed, Nasser was, in effect, trying to project his influence into intra-military decision
making

Amer acquiesced in Fawzi’s appointment. However, he subsequently altered the command structure to

ensure that Fawzi had little actual influence in the chain of command. Thus in 1964, Amer formed the
Ground Forces Command to act as a coordinating body for all ground forces in the army, navy, and air
force. Its broad mission made it the largest command in the military. It also competed directly with the
general staff. Over time, the size of the GFC’s staff steadily increased, first equaling and then surpassing
Fawzi’s. Most importantly, the GFC divided responsibility for essential peacetime planning activities,
which needed to be coordinated, between two competing staffs.

Improvisations in command and control in the weeks prior to the June war exacerbated these peace-

time convolutions. In the event of war, standing plans called for the establishment of a Field Army
Command to direct operations for all forces located in the Sinai theater, which would report to General
Headquarters (GHQ) and Abdel Hakim Amer. To ensure fluid command, prior to the onset of hostilities,
GHQ was to be moved from Cairo to the Sinai to be closer to the field of operations.

Three weeks before the June war, Amer modified this arrangement, creating a new link in the chain of

command, the Advance Command, which would (apparently) serve as Amer’s outpost in the Sinai. General
Headquarters was not to be moved but would remain in Cairo. Again, there were political reasons behind
this decision: if Amer remained in Cairo, he was better positioned to “watch” Nasser. The problem was that
Field Command, as well as the actual staff of the Advance Command, had little sense of how this new link
in the chain of command was supposed to operate, what role it was to play in issuing and approving orders,
and what relationship it would have with GHQ.

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In addition to these problems in strategic assessment and command and control, competition at the top
contributed to the politicization of appointments and promotions. The two leaders were competing for rights
to control appointments. In 1961, for example, Nasser established a presidential council to take control of
military appointments and promotions from Amer and remove him from top operational command. Nasser
later backed off the initiative, however, when officers started mobilizing in support of Amer, and thereafter
Amer maintained day-to-day appointment prerogatives. Nevertheless, Nasser still sought to put his allies in
key positions, competing with Amer over the right to do so, as when Nasser pushed for Fawzi’s appointment
to chief of staff in 1964.

Amer too was careful to protect his allies, often at the expense of promoting capable men to key posts.

For example, in 1967 the service chiefs were the same men who had proven incompetent eleven years
earlier in the Suez crisis. In the weeks preceding the June war, shifts of command were undertaken so that
Amer’s allies could claim some part of the glory of battle. (Appropriately, they would later receive credit
for the ignominious defeat.) As a result, many unqualified leaders populated critical commands. So
egregious was the promotion of political lackeys that the Israelis singled out incompetents in their
assessments of Egyptian division and brigade commanders

Implications for Military Effectiveness

All of these problems contributed to weaknesses in Egypt’s military planning and preparation to fight
the Israelis in June 1967. Flaws in strategic assessment, in particular, significantly compromised the
integration of political, strategic, and operational plans and objectives. Basic questions of political and
military strategy went unresolved in the crisis. Forces flowed into the Sinai—an incredible show of force
by any standard. But there was never any clear idea of what role they were to play, let alone how they would
serve political objectives. Was Egypt’s military to act in a purely defensive role, to counter a potential
Israeli invasion across the border in Sinai? Was its aim to deter an Israeli attack? Or was its strategy
ultimately to launch either a limited or comprehensive offensive to win new gains from the Israelis?

Similar problems plagued efforts to develop and implement operational plans. Nasser and Amer clashed

over the merits of maintaining a purely defensive operational position or engaging in a limited offensive
against the Israelis. Amer favored a limited offensive. Nasser, wary of being perceived internationally as
the aggressor in the crisis, resisted such a move. Unresolved disagreements like these resulted in a series of
orders and counter-orders to commanders on the ground

In fact, at one point during the May–June crisis prior to the war, so confused was the Eastern Military

District’s Field Command about Egypt’s operational plans that its chief, General Mohsen, sent a messenger
to Amer’s newly improvised Advance Command in the Sinai to seek clarification. Was the field army’s
role offensive (as its deployments then suggested) or defensive (as suggested by Egypt’s extant operational
plan—the Kaher Plan)? Unable to get an answer, the envoy went to General Headquarters in Cairo to
consult with the chief of the general staff of Egyptian forces, General Fawzi. He also could offer no
clarification. Dupuy explains, “The armed forces chief of staff [Fawzi], not in the confidence of Field
Marshal Amer, could not answer any of the specific questions, nor could he give any clarification or
guidance as requested by the field army commander.

As a result of the poor assessment at the civil-military apex, from mid-May 1967, when Egypt’s forces

were first deployed to the Sinai, through 6 June, when the evacuation order was issued, a definitive set of
strategic and operational objectives was never disseminated to commanders on the ground. On the eve of
war, “absolutely no specific plans had been promulgated to the brigade level or below.” Interviews of
Egyptian POWs after the war revealed that “many Egyptian officers and men said they had been sent to

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Sinai with no clear idea of where they were going or what they were supposed to do.

Nowhere, however, are the disastrous effects of the breakdown of command more apparent than in

Amer’s ill-fated decision to call for a general withdrawal of Egyptian ground forces from the Sinai, only
one day after the start of the war. If it had been governed by a systematic plan, a tactical retreat could have
been used to Egypt’s advantage, allowing its forces to regroup at the mountain passes in the Sinai. In fact,
the Operations Staff had come up with a detailed plan for just such an orderly fallback. But Amer had
blacked out his staff, many of whom he believed were closely allied with Nasser. The evidence suggests
that not even Nasser was consulted over Amer’s withdrawal order. In the end, Amer’s panicked order for
immediate withdrawal sacrificed men and equipment as Egyptian forces undertook a chaotic retreat from
the Sinai. In sum, as George Gawrych concludes, “Competing commands with overlapping responsibilities
functioning in an atmosphere of little mutual cooperation had produced a disaster on the battlefield.

Finally, it is worth noting that even if Egypt’s leaders put aside all their differences and from the start

simply used the war plans developed prior to the war for the defense of the Sinai Peninsula, the Kaher
defense plan, they would have run into problems. The Kaher Plan was yet another casualty of the
competitive civil-military environment. It had been formulated in 1966, upon Amer’s directive, but
planning was soon disrupted by personnel changes in the general staff; officers instrumental in the
development of Kaher were removed for political reasons. During the undercover power struggle between
the adherents of Amer and those of President Nasser, Amer had shifted out of the General staff most of the
planners who had developed Operation Kaher. Implementation of the plan suffered. Many of its provisions
remained little more than words on paper. The plan was never actually disseminated to division
commanders. No war games based on the plan were held; no map-table exercises were ever conducted. The
defensive installations and infrastructure required for the plan were incomplete

Problems plaguing infrastructure for Egypt’s air force illustrate the magnitude of the breakdown in

leadership. After the 1956 Suez conflict, the military recognized the need to build hardened hangers to
protect its aircraft from bombing raids. A decade later, however, very little had been done to implement the
lesson. In 1967 it had been five years since an airplane hangar had been constructed. Rather, under the
command of Mohammed Sidqi Mahmoud, the airplane hangar project stagnated, a failure that “can only be
ascribed to a lack of will and perseverance on the part of command.” In short, the effects of poor leadership
in the mid-1960s reverberated throughout the military organization, significantly degrading the quality of
military activity.

As in any crisis, the Egyptians were forced to react quickly in an uncertain and rapidly evolving political

climate in May 1967. This would challenge any military organization. But for Egypt, the effects of
competition between the political and military leadership complicated things significantly. Rather than
prompting the political and military leadership to develop a coordinated military strategy, to set out a
general concept for operations and delineate some basic military objectives that could be translated down
the chain of command, disagreements went unresolved. Instead, poor strategic assessment meant that
Egyptian forces entered the war on 5 June with no clear concept of what they were supposed to accomplish.
They were then governed by brittle and convoluted command structures that crumbled under the pressure
of war. And they were led, in many cases, by poorly trained and ill-suited commanders, who had received
their positions because of their political loyalty. As a result, in 1967, Egypt’s military forces consisted of
an accumulation of men and equipment that lacked the conceptual and administrative glue to bind them
into an effective fighting system.

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CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN THE EARLY 1970s

Anwar Sadat came to power shortly after Nasser’s death in September 1970 and inherited a regime that
had been transformed in the final years of Nasser’s rule. Events following the 1967 war marked the
beginning of these changes, and in many ways the Sadat era represents a continuation of these domestic
political shift. On 9 June Nasser offered his resignation in a public speech to the Egyptian masses. The
speech elicited a spontaneous eruption of support for the Arab leader. Egypt’s masses literally poured onto
the streets. As such, “the demonstrators constituted a massive plebiscite compelling Nasser to remain in
power,” and Nasser subsequently reinstated himself as political leader of the country.

Importantly, these events showed the loyalties of the masses lay with Nasser as political head of the

country and not with the army. As one observer put it, “At this moment [Nasser] discovered that he was
more powerful than the army.” This was crucial. Nasser was now able to confront Amer and have him
arrested. (Amer then reportedly committed suicide.) Even more significantly, Nasser was now able to seize
control over appointments and remove Amer’s clique. Hundreds of officers were retired or resigned.
Ultimately, over 1,000 officers were purged.

During this time, the military’s social support also declined significantly, as much of the population

blamed Egypt’s officers for the country’s miserable showing in 1967. The military became increasingly
unpopular within civilian society at large. In accounts about the years following the war, analysts often
report that soldiers were subject to open disrespect by the population. “People spit at them, taxi drivers
refused to carry them,” one American journalist reported. On 22 June 1967, a prominent Egyptian
newspaper, al-Goumhouria, published an article openly critical of the military, something that would have
been unthinkable just weeks before. In February 1968 the population demonstrated against the sentences
given to military chiefs for their mismanagement in the war, viewing them as too lenient.

When Sadat came to power after Nasser’s death in September 1970, he thus inherited a thoroughly

purged military and one whose social standing had fallen considerably. The military during this time lacked
the cohesive groupings evident under Amer and therefore could not present a unified front. These divisions,
for example, became evident in May 1971 when a powerful leftist constituency tried to stage a coup against
Sadat. The coup failed because the chief of the military, who supported the coup, was unable to gain support
from within the military hierarchy. The military was internally divided. Sadat found his own allies who, in
turn, sabotaged the effort to remove him.

After coming to office, Sadat sought to expand middle-class support for the regime and build a new

support base for his rule. Nasser, in fact, had begun reaching out to the middle classes, and Sadat expanded
these efforts. In September 1971 Sadat passed new legislation to encourage private investment in the
economy. Tax benefits afforded to foreign capital were extended to local Egyptian investors. At the same
time, major changes in labor legislation were adopted, including abolishment of all trade union branches at
factories employing less than two hundred people in 1971. He also began to rethink the regimes’ long-
standing policy of sequestration of capital from the landed classes—a concern from the early days of his
presidency. Politically, as a result of the events of May 1971 described above, he sidelined the powerful
coterie of leftists in the regime and marginalized the Arab Socialist Union, which they had controlled. His
privatization initiatives, in turn, won him support among the rural middle class, private entrepreneurs, and
the public sector. He also gained support from a new class of middlemen that operated at the nexus of the
private and public arena and commercial interests, including contractors, real-estate speculators, importers
and partners, agents of foreign firms, tourist operators, and lawyers. At the same time, Sadat continued to
guarantee employment in the state bureaucracy to college graduates, such that it grew by 70 percent during
Sadat’s tenure in office. Other measures targeted the rural middle class, as Sadat sought to vest them in his

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regime. In short, under Sadat, the middle classes were increasingly revived. The president benefited from
“the solid base given to his rule by his alliance with the bourgeoisie, both its state and private wings.” While
the military itself remained an important constituency, the regimes overall center of gravity shifted from
the military toward the civilian arena.

Combined, these changes in Egypt’s domestic politics transformed the social context of civil-military

relations. They shifted the political-military balance of power. Analytically, the case resembles one in which
domestic politics favored political dominance: Sadat’s expanding middle-class coalition— in combination
with the absence of a large and influential faction in the military with strong ties to societal groups or mass
interests—advantaged him in relations with his military chiefs. Under Sadat, the military consequently was
transformed from a powerful political constituency to “a much smaller, weaker component of the elite. By
the eighties, the military was merely one of a number of [organizational] interest groups. This in turn had
important effects on key areas of military activity, which facilitated improvements in Egypt’s military
effectiveness.

Military Activities

Strategic assessment in 1973 was dramatically changed from the dynamics observed in 1967. Sharing
of information and consultation between the political and military leadership improved significantly. Sadat
had unfettered access to multiple sources of information. Intelligence had been reformed. Consultation was
also much more systematic. Sadat, in fact, used the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), an
internal decision-making entity of the armed forces, as his primary consultative entity.

In addition, Sadat, as political chief, retained the power to make decisions about political and strategic

issues. To see through his limited war plan, Sadat, in fact, had to overrule many of his top military chiefs,
including then minister of war General Sadiq, who opposed the concept. Many of his generals preferred to
wait until Egypt was better equipped to engage Israel in a general war. In October 1972, fed up with Sadiq’s
recalcitrance, Sadat fired him, the deputy war minister, and the heads of the navy and the Central Military
District in Cairo. Over 100 senior officers were removed from their posts. Thus, where Nasser had been
unable to dismiss and appoint officers, Sadat was able to remove officers to see through his preferred plans.
In general, as one observer described the decision-making environment and the military’s influence over it,
“The military still had some input . . . into defense policy, but its role had been reduced to that of simply
giving professional advice.

In 1973 a clear chain of command was also in place. Sadat sat at its apex, his top military leader,

minister of war General Ahmed Ismail Ali at the next link, followed by chief of staff Lt. Gen. Saad Shazly,
with other top commanders following Shazly’s lead. This structure of command and control, for example,
revealed itself in the way that several controversies over command decisions were resolved during the
course of the October war, on 10 October, 12 October, and 16 October.

The first incident, on 10 October, occurred four days after Egypt’s extremely successful crossing

operation and the establishment of a bridgehead on the east bank of the canal. Taken with Egypt’s early
successes, Chief of Staff Shazly and Egypt’s other top military commanders began to push for an expansion
of the offensive to the mountain passes inland from the canal zone. There were, however, serious risks
involved in advancing the offensive. Egyptian capabilities were still inferior to the Israelis, especially in air
power and offensive maneuver; as such, aggressive exploitation of the early successes “might have risked
losing everything they won on those days. Despite the controversy and heated debate, the situation was
resolved when Minister of War Ahmed Ismail vetoed Shazly’s plan

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Four days later, Egypt resumed the offensive. This time Sadat made the decision in favor of pursuing
the attack for political reasons and against the advice of Ahmed Ismail. Sadat was being pressured by Syria
(Egypt’s ally, which had cooperated in the war effort) to resume the offensive to the mountain passes.
Despite Ahmed Ismail’s well-founded reservations, the chain of command was firmly intact. “[Ahmed
Ismail Ali] had no choice but to obey his supreme commander.” Hence, “just as the tactical halt on October
10-13 occurred on Sadat’s directive, the decision to resume the offensive following the halt was a political
decision.

The chain of command was tested one additional time after Israel’s breach of Egypt’s defensive line

during the night of 15–16 October. A controversy ensued about how to respond to the Israeli offensive,
with many of Egypt’s commanders urging that forces be withdrawn from the canal zone to support a
counteroffensive. Ahmed Ismail refused. This caused a major rift in the high command. Sadat was called
to Egypt’s command center to resolve the dispute. After consulting with Ahmed Ismail, he sided with his
minister of war against removing Egyptian forces for a counterattack. Sadat himself notes that the conflict
“ended only when I personally went to the operations room and made the decision that the armies would
stay where they were.

In sum, Sadat and his military chiefs successfully overruled subordinates within the high command in

each incident. The integrity of the chain of command was maintained despite significant military dissent.

Finally, in 1973 there was an important change in the quality of leader-ship observed in Egypt. Sadat

retained control over appointments and was able to appoint officers who were qualified to execute his war
plans. To control appointments, Sadat reconfigured the formal machinery of military promotions and
advancement. In November 1971, for example, Sadat established direct control over the Armed Forces
Officers’ Committees for each of the service branches, which were in charge of promotions, nominations
for major posts in the armed services, disciplinary action, and other personnel related matters. Sadat retained
the power to unilaterally change the rules and procedures whereby they operated. Moreover, by selecting
like-minded officers to sit on the committees, Sadat could shape the selection criteria for officers.

While not ignoring political factors, Sadat’s ability to control appointment processes meant that he had

greater flexibility to choose capable and skilled officers supportive of his war plans and that he was capable
of executing his political-military strategy in 1973. Among Sadat’s pivotal appointments was Ahmed
Ismail, who became minister of war on 26 October 1972. As Sadat himself put it, “The first actual decision
on the October 6 war was taken when I removed former War Minister Sadiq and appointed Marshall Ahmed
Ismail in his place.” Ahmed Ismail was a skilled, experienced, and willing military officer. Moreover, from
Sadat’s point of view, he exhibited a “keen understanding of the subtle relationship between war and
politics.” The general understood both the limitations of Egyptian capabilities that made war difficult and
the political context that made it essential.

In general, Sadat’s authority had an important conditioning effect on his military leaders’ willingness

to comply with his initiatives. To reinforce this, he deliberately chose individuals disposed against active
politicking. Among these, Mohammed Gamasy, chief of operations in the October 1973 war and later
minister of war, is exemplary. Gamasy represented “the very model of the respected non-political
professional prepared to defer to the authority of the President, and became a key figure in further
consolidating the principle of non-military intervention in politics.” Gamasy, for example, was skeptical of
many of Sadat’s policies yet never overtly challenged Sadat’s initiatives. As one observer remarked, “the
Egyptian military leadership obeyed the orders even when their personal views were not in consonance.”
In short, absent competition between political and military leaders, there was greater opportunity for Sadat
to select capable officers to see through his policies.

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Implications for Military Effectiveness

Improvements in strategic assessment, command and control, and appointments facilitated Egypt’s
planning and preparation for war in 1973. The importance of strategic assessment is evident, for example,
in the systematic way the strategic concept for the 1973 war was developed. In 1972, Sadat commissioned
a report from General Ahmed Ismail, who was then head of military intelligence, about the possibility of
conducting a war against the Israelis. The report included detailed studies of Israeli capabilities and
assessments of its own, as well as other Arab states’ forces. From this process of evaluation, Egypt chose
to launch a surprise attack with limited aims in order to ignite negotiations with Israel.

Two things are notable about this strategy. First, it carefully matched Egypt’s capabilities with its

strategic and political goals. The limited war strategy was based on an explicit acknowledgment of the
limits of Egypt’s military capacity to launch a total war and reclaim the land through force. The epitome of
politics by other means, the plan not only integrated military strategy with political objectives, it also
reflected a high level of responsiveness to limitations in Egypt’s military effectiveness.

Second, it took advantage of the benefits of surprise: the high command recognized that in order to take

advantage of Egypt’s large quantity but uneven quality of forces, a surprise offensive would be essential.
Yet the military leadership also realized that concealing Egypt’s intentions to attack would be a major
undertaking. The leadership would have to disguise its intentions to go to war, its war plans, and the timing
of the attack. To support its military strategy, the high command formulated an elaborate deception plan.
The goal was to reinforce Israel’s existing beliefs about Egypt’s lack of capability and tendency to engage
in military action for domestic reasons. These measures included disseminating false reports about
problems Egyptian forces were having in assimilating equipment, as well as scheduling mobilizations,
military movements and training exercises in order to distract Israel from movements of forces to the front

The clarity of command and control was also key to the implementation of the deception plan. To see

the plan through, careful controls were put on the exchange of information within the chain of command.
War plans involved thousands of men and pieces of equipment across two fronts (Syria and Egypt). They
required that every soldier be appropriately trained, every weapon be in place, and every officer be well-
versed in his specific responsibilities when the signal to begin the offensive was given—yet information
about the day and time of the attack also had to remain secret until the last moment; operational security
was paramount. Consequently, the high command developed a detailed timetable stipulating when each
layer in the command structure was to be informed of the time of attack. Senior officers were briefed days
before; some local army and air force commanders received word only forty-eight hours in advance, and in
some cases, the troops themselves were told just minutes before the attack. When the Israelis interviewed
prisoners of war, they found that 95 percent of Egyptians captured learned of the attack only on the morning
of 6 October. It is doubtful that Egypt could have executed the crossing without a resilient command and
control structure, given the vital importance of strategic and tactical surprise to the success of the operation
and the need to conceal its intentions from Israeli intelligence. At issue was the capacity of the military to
structure the entire process of information exchange in support of its strategy.

The clarity of command and control also helped ensure the integration of political goals with military

means in other ways. Although they have attracted significant post hoc criticism, the tactical decisions
issued during the October war were consistent with Egypt’s military strategy and the broader grand strategy
in which it was embedded. Sadat realized that any political leverage Egypt would have after the war
depended on him holding the strip of recaptured territory on the east bank of the canal when the superpowers
imposed a cease-fire. He therefore vetoed early pressures from his chiefs to expand the offensive, ensuring
that his bridgehead was consolidated. He later agreed it was for political reasons because he feared the

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Syrians would pursue an early cease-fire and compromise his broader political strategy. Finally, he refused
to allow any forces to be withdrawn from the canal zone to respond to the Israeli breach of its defensive
line, even when it was otherwise tactically questionable. In each case, the decision made was consistent
with the broader strategic objective of maintaining Egypt’s position in the canal zone.

Finally, Egypt benefited greatly from the promotion of skilled and talented officers in 1973. The quality

of military planning improved considerably. One of the clearest ways to see this is the degree to which the
leadership tailored military activity to Egypt’s and Israel’s respective strengths and weaknesses and the
responsiveness of the military organization to these constraints.

The Egyptians recognized that the Israelis had strong technical-tactical proficiency in offensive
maneuver, while acknowledging their own deficiencies in adapting to fluid and fast-paced operations. As a
result, rather than attempt a maneuver-based operational concept, despite its advantages, the Egyptian
planning staff sought to tailor the plan to the country’s own strengths—Egypt’s superiority in numbers.
Through the use of steamrolling tactics, Egypt’s planners relied on mass over maneuver, calling for a full
frontal assault along the entire length of the canal zone. The plan emphasized static defense, which would
allow the Egyptians to prioritize local firepower over speed and mobility.

These tactics were well-suited to the quality of Egyptian manpower, which was substantial but

generally of low literacy and rural origins. Training was tailored to the largely unskilled, rural force.
Everything was highly scripted according to orders from the high command. Egyptian troops repeated drills
until they were memorized. In short, despite the obvious limitations of the approach, to rapidly train the
large numbers of rural recruits and make the most of manpower resources, “Nothing was left either to
imagination or personal initiative; the stress was on mechanical repetition of acquired skills.

A similar sensitivity characterized planning for the air force. Egypt’s high command recognized that

Israel had substantial superiority in the air. Egyptian leaders consequently made a deliberate decision not
to use Egypt’s air force (except for some initial pre-war air strikes). They also built a dense zone of surface-
to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns around the canal zone to provide an umbrella over Egyptian operations
and insulate it from attack by the Israel Air Force (IAF). Egyptian forces were extensively trained on these
systems. Crew proficiency was high. After three weeks of war, systems that had not been destroyed by
Israeli sabotage were still in operation; moreover, they were often observed firing salvos and not just ingle
missiles. The guns severely inhibited the IAF’s activity in the area

DOMESTIC POLITICS AND MILITARY EFFECTIVENESS

In June 1967, Egypt shocked the world with its atrocious performance in battle, only to stun the world
again with its improvements in the October1973 war. What accounts for the variation in Egypt’s military
effectiveness?

This article argues that fundamental differences in the domestic politics of the regime—in the social

support enjoyed by the political leadership and the military and in the internal unity of the military
leadership—affected the balance of power in civil-military relations, key military activities, and ultimately
Egypt’s military effectiveness in the two periods. In 1967 Nasser was sharing power with his military and
competing for control of military affairs. As a result, he was unable to reclaim appointment prerogatives
and remove Amer and his cohort of officers from command. Appointments became increasingly politicized,
and the quality of leadership declined. Strategic assessment also suffered as the two leaders resisted
coordination, and Amer carefully guarded his control of information. As the two leaders tried to enhance
their authority within the military hierarchy, command and control structures became increasingly more
responsive to political concerns than issues of clarity and functionality.

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In 1973 a change in the state’s domestic politics paved the way for dramatic improvements in military
effectiveness. A shift in the relative power of political and military leaders—due to an expansion of the
political coalition and decline in the cohesion of the military—fundamentally altered the civil-military
balance of power. Anwar Sadat was able to appoint a skilled command, ensure a responsive and clearly
defined chain of command, and benefit from the reform of coordination and information exchange in
strategic assessment. A skilled command, hand-picked by Sadat, produced a nearly seamless military
policy: everything from training to logistics to tactics to operational plans and military strategy acted in
concert. In this domestic setting, Sadat was able to oversee the translation of his security goals into military
policies tailored to his higher objectives. Egypt was able to make the most of its resources in men and
equipment to achieve its strategic objectives and demonstrated remarkable improvement in military
effectiveness.

Like all historical events, the Egyptian experiences in 1967 and 1973are unique in many ways, but they

nonetheless offer important lessons for scholars and analysts interested in understanding the sources of
autocracies’ military effectiveness. In particular, they suggest that analysis of these states’ military
capabilities should be rooted in broader assessments of each state’s domestic politics and civil-military
relations. Changes and crises within domestic society—those that affect a political leader’s ties to social
groups and mass popularity or affect the position and unity of the military leadership— merit special
attention. Through their effects on the balance of power at the civil-military apex, these domestic changes
can affect internal processes essential to organizing for war.

More broadly, the article encourages scholars to think systematically about differences among

authoritarian regimes in researching questions central to the study of war and peace. Scholars of
international relations, in particular, need better understandings of the politics and internal logic of
authoritarian regimes. This is essential if we are to understand outcomes of profound interest, such as states’
war-fighting abilities. Notably, for example, few outside analysts either before the 1967 or the 1973 wars
comprehended the implications of Egypt’s domestic environment and civil-military relations for military
effectiveness. In each case, Israel and the world were caught off guard. In 1967 they were surprised by the
intense pathologies bred by Egypt’s civil-military relations and the remarkable ease of victory of Israeli
forces. In 1973 they failed to recognize the significance of changes in civil military relations and how they
facilitated change in Egypt’s war strategy and improvements in military effectiveness. This article suggests
that in both cases, deeper probing of the significance of the underlying politics of the regimes might have
led to better informed estimates of Egypt’s war-fighting potential.

Finally, the analysis speaks to the connection between civil-military relations and military

effectiveness. To date, much of the scholarly debate about these issues has focused on the ideal division of
labor between military and political leaders. Samuel Huntington, for example, argues a rigid division of
labor—which allows the military clear control over the development and execution of strategy, operational
plans, and tactical activity once politicians make the decision to use force—is conducive to military
effectiveness. Conversely, scholars like Eliot Cohen and Barry Posen suggest that so much military
autonomy can be problematic; they argue that active interventions in planning and operations by capable
and internationally-minded political leaders are essential to rationalizing military activity and, by
implication, promoting effectiveness. This article also suggests that political dominance has clear
advantages in creating effective militaries—at least in autocracies—but for somewhat different reasons.
Political leaders are not necessarily wiser or better attuned to external stimuli and therefore inherently
inclined to promote efficient and responsive military policies. Rather, in autocracies where domestic politics
can engender rivalries for control of the military, clear dominance by the political leader engenders
structural advantages as the state prepares for war: it alleviates the pathologies in strategic assessment,
command and control, and leadership that are the byproducts of efforts by political and military leaders to

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enhance their prerogatives and influence over the military. After all, Anwar Sadat was not necessarily a
more intelligent, savvy, strategically adroit, or militarily experienced leader than was Gamal Abdel Nasser.
He did, however, face dramatically different civil-military relations than Nasser in the mid-1960s. As a
result, Sadat—who, ironically enough, was in fact viewed as an unimpressive candidate when he took
office—was able to oversee unprecedented improvements in Egypt’s military effectiveness, while his
charismatic predecessor failed on the battlefield

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L421: Complexity
L421: Reading D

Leadership and Systems Thinking
Author: COL George Reed

Leaders operate in the realm of bewildering uncertainty and staggering complexity. Today’s problems

are rarely simple and clear-cut. If they were, they would likely already have been solved by someone else.
If not well considered—and sometimes even when they are—today’s solutions become tomorrow’s
problems. Success in the contemporary operating environment requires different ways of thinking about
problems and organizations. This article introduces some concepts of systems thinking and suggests that it
is a framework that should be understood and applied by leaders at all levels, but especially those within
the acquisition community.

It is insufficient and often counterproductive for leaders merely to act as good cogs in the machine.

Leaders perform a valuable service when they discern that a venerated system or process has outlived its
usefulness, or that it is operating as originally designed but against the organization’s overall purpose.
Sometimes we forget that systems are created by people, based on an idea about what should happen at a
given point in time. A wise senior warrant officer referred to this phenomenon as a BOGSAT—a bunch of
guys sitting around talking.

Systems Endure

Although times and circumstances may change, systems tend to endure. We seem to be better at creating
new systems than changing or eliminating existing ones. Sociologist Robert K. Merton coined the term
“goal displacement” to describe what happens when complying with bureaucratic processes becomes the
objective rather than focusing on organizational goals and values. When that happens, systems take on a
life of their own and seem immune to common sense. Thoughtless application of rules and procedures can
stifle innovation, hamper adaptivity, and dash creativity. Wholesale disregard of rules and procedures,
however, can be equally disastrous.

When members of an organization feel as though they must constantly fight the system by

circumventing established rules and procedures, the result can be cynicism or a poor ethical climate.
Because of their experience and position, leaders are invested with the authority to intervene and correct or
abandon malfunctioning systems. At the very least, they can advocate for change in a way that those with
less positional authority cannot. Leaders at all levels should, therefore, be alert to systems that drive human
behavior inimical to organizational effectiveness. It is arguable that military organizations placing a
premium on tradition and standardization are predisposed to goal displacement. We need leaders, therefore,
who can see both the parts and the big picture; to this end some of the concepts of systems thinking are
useful.

The Department of Defense is a large and complex social system with many interrelated parts. As with

any system of this type, when changes are made to one part, many others are affected in a cascading and
often unpredictable manner. Thus, organizational decisions are fraught with second and third order effects
that result in unintended consequences. “Fire and forget” approaches are rarely sufficient and are sometimes
downright harmful. Extensive planning—combined with even the best of intentions does not guarantee

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success. Better prediction is not the answer, nor is it possible. There are so many interactions in complex
systems that no individual can be expected to forecast the impact of even small changes that are amplified
over time.

Getting Beyond the Machine Metaphor

In her book Organization Theory: Modern, Symbolic, and Postmodern Perspectives, Mary Jo Hatch
provides an introduction to general systems theory that is useful in thinking about organizations. She makes
a point worthy of repeating: The use of lower level models is problematic when applied to higher level
systems. Thus, the language of simple machines creates blind spots when used as a metaphor for human or
social systems; human systems are infinitely more complex and dynamic. In other words, it can be
counterproductive to treat a complex dynamic social system like a simple machine.

Noted management scholar Russell Ackoff puts it another way. He asserts that we are in the process of

leaving the machine age that had roots in the Renaissance and came into favor through the industrialization
of society. In that era the machine metaphor became the predominant way of looking at organizations. The
universe was envisioned by thinkers such as Isaac Newton, as having the characteristics of a big clock. The
workings of the clock could be understood through the process of analysis and the analytical method.

Analysis involves taking apart something of interest, trying to understand the behavior of its parts, and

then assembling the understanding of the parts into an understanding of the whole. According to Ackoff,
“One simple relationship—cause and effect—was sufficient to explain all relationships.” Much machine-
age thinking remains with us today; however, there are alternatives.

Systems Thinking

Systems, like the human body, have parts, and the parts affect the performance of the whole. All of the
parts are interdependent. The liver interacts with and affects other internal organs—the brain, heart,
kidneys, etc. You can study the parts singly, but because of the interactions, it doesn’t make much practical
sense to stop there. Understanding of the system cannot depend on analysis alone. The key to understanding
is, therefore, synthesis. The systems approach is to:

Identify a system. After all, not all things are systems. Some systems are simple and predictable, while
others are complex and dynamic. Most human social systems are the latter.

Explain the behavior or properties of the whole system. This focus on the whole is the process of
synthesis. Ackoff says that analysis looks into things while synthesis looks out of things.

Explain the behavior or properties of the thing to be explained in terms of the role(s) or function(s) of
the whole.

The systems thinker retains focus on the system as a whole, and the analysis in step three (the third
bullet) is always in terms of the overall purpose of the system. Borrowing Ackoff’s approach and using the
example of a contemporary defense issue might help clarify what is admittedly abstract at first glance.

Consider the Institute for Defense Analyses report Transforming DoD Management: the Systems

Approach. The authors of this study suggested an alternative approach to Service-based readiness reporting,
one that considered the entire defense transportation system. One section of the report suggests that

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knowing the status of equipment, training, and manning of transportation units is helpful but insufficient to
determine the readiness of a system that includes elements such as airfields, road networks, ships, and ports.
The defense transportation system includes elements of all Services and even some commercial entities. It
only makes sense, therefore, to assess readiness of these elements as part of a larger system that has an
identifiable purpose—to move personnel and materiel to the right place at the right time. In this example
you can clearly see the approach recommended by Ackoff.

The Problem of Busyness

Few would disagree, in principle, that senior leaders should see not only the parts, but also the big
picture. So why don’t we do more of it? One reason is because we are so darned busy. Immersed in the
myriad details of daily existence, it is easy to lose sight of the bigger picture. While it may be important to
orient on values, goals, and objectives, the urgent often displaces the important. Fighting off the alligators
inevitably takes precedence over draining the swamp.

The problem of busyness can be compounded by senior leaders who are overscheduled and uneducated

in systems thinking. It seems as though military officers today work excessive hours as a matter of pride.
A cursory examination of the calendar of most contemporary officers, especially flag officers, will indicate
an abusive pace. Consider as an alternative the example of one of America’s greatest soldier statesmen,
Gen. George C. Marshall. Even at the height of World War II, Marshall typically rode a horse in the morning
for exercise, came home for lunch and visited with his wife, went to bed early, and regularly took retreats
to rejuvenate. To what extent are such pauses for reflection and renewal valued today? Simple cause and
effect thinking combined with a culture of busyness can result in decision makers who rapid-fire short-term
solutions at long-term problems without taking time to think about the actual impact of those solutions.

A common symptom of this phenomenon can be seen in leaders who unrealistically demand simplicity

and certainty in a complex and uncertain environment. The drive for simplicity can lead to the need for
excessive assumptions. Few contemporary issues of significance can be understood, much less solved, in a
two-page point paper or a PowerPoint® slide. We might also ask whether speed and decisiveness in
decision making, so valued at the tactical level, work to the detriment of good decisions at the strategic
level. Absent some discipline and techniques to do otherwise, it is very hard to find time for reflection and
thoughtful decision making.

Most people expect learning to just happen without their taking the time for thought and reflection,

which true learning requires. In the past, with slower communication systems, we often had a few weeks to
ponder and rethink a decision. Today we’re accustomed to e-mails, faxes, overnight letters, and cell phones,
and have come to believe that an immediate response is more important than a thoughtful one.
Steven Robbins, writing in Harvard Business School Working Knowledge in May 2003.

Interrelationships, Not Things

Peter Senge submits, in The Fifth Discipline, that systems thinking provides just the type of discipline
and toolset needed to encourage the seeing of “interrelationships rather than things, for seeing patterns of
change rather than static ‘snapshots.’” Senge argues that this shift of mind is necessary to deal with the
complexities of dynamic social systems. He suggests that we think in terms of feedback loops as a substitute
for simple cause and effect relationships.

As an example, systems scholar Daniel Aronson suggests that we imagine a farmer who determines

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that an insect infestation is eating his crop. The conventional approach is to apply a pesticide designed to
kill the insect. Our example at this point depicts the lowest level of the thinking hierarchy—reaction. In
response to the appearance of insects, the farmer applies a pesticide because he assumes that what has
worked in the past will work in this instance. As additional insects appear, the farmer applies more pesticide.
While the farmer’s goal is to produce a crop, his activity is increasingly consumed by recurring applications
of the chemical. He is surely busy, but he may not necessarily be productive. A systems thinker might step
back from the problem, take a broader view, and consider what is happening over time.

For example, he might think about whether there are any patterns that appear over weeks or months

and attempt to depict what is actually occurring. Recognizing the pattern of a system over time is a higher-
order level of thinking. The systems thinker might notice that insect infestation did decrease after applying
pesticide, but only for a short time. Insects that were eating the crop were actually controlling a second
species of insect not affected by the pesticide. Elimination of the first species resulted in a growth explosion
in the second that caused even more damage than the first. The obvious solution caused unintended
consequences that worsened the situation.

An accomplished systems thinker would model the above example using a series of feedback and

reinforcing loops. The specifics of the modeling technique are less important at this point than the
observation that systems thinking tends to see things in terms of loops and patterns aided by constant
assessment of what is happening, rather than flow charts and reliance on what should be happening. At the
highest level of thinking, the farmer would try to identify root causes or possible points of intervention
suggested by these observations.

The Importance of Continuous Assessment

In Why Smart Executives Fail, Sydney Finkelstein examined over 50 of the world’s most notorious
business failures. His analysis indicated that in almost every case, the failures were not attributable to
stupidity or lack of attention. To the contrary, the leaders of well-known corporations such as Samsung
Motors, WorldCom, and Enron were exceptionally bright, energetic, and deeply involved in the operation
of their businesses. Up to the point of massive corporate failure, they were all extremely successful, and in
almost every case, there were some in the organization who vainly raised objections to the course that
eventually proved disastrous. In most instances, the executives failed to see or accept what was actually
happening. In some cases, they were blinded by their own prior successes; in other cases they inexplicably
held tenaciously to a vision, despite plenty of evidence that the chosen strategic direction was ill-advised.
The systems thinker’s pragmatic focus on determining what is actually happening serves as a preventative
to self-delusional wishful thinking. Wishful thinking is no substitute for a realistic appraisal. In the language
of systems thinking, the executives were trapped by their own faulty mental models.

The continuous assessment process that is characteristic of systems thinking is essential in a volatile,

rapidly changing environment. It takes time and good habits of critical reflection to engage in this kind of
learning, both for individuals and organizations.

A systemic approach to failure is more likely to result in effective long-term solutions. Imagine for a

moment if the incidents of abuse at Abu Ghraib were chalked up merely to ineffective leadership or just
miscreant behavior by some thugs on the night shift. If other factors contributed to the problem, after
relieving the chain of command for cause and prosecuting the abusers, the members of the replacement
chain of command might have found themselves in an equally untenable situation. While inspired
leadership can make a difference under the worst of conditions, we might ask just how heroic we expect
our leaders to be on a regular basis. When a system is so obviously stacked against our leaders, there is a

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moral imperative to change the system.

Systems thinking is no panacea. There is no checklist to work through that will guarantee someone is

thinking in a way that will capture the big picture or identify root causes of difficult problems. There are
some concepts and approaches embedded in the systems thinking literature, however, that can be very
helpful when considering why a situation seems to be immune to intervention, or why a problem thought
to be solved has returned with a vengeance. Here are some of the concepts:

• Focus on the purpose for which a system was created over the processes and procedures of the system.
• Simple cause-and-effect relationships are insufficient to understand or explain a complex social system.
Patterns over time and feedback loops are a better way to think about the dynamics of complex systems.
• Think in terms of synthesis over analysis; the whole over the parts.
• Busyness and excessive focus on short term gains interferes with our ability to use a systems approach.
• Leaders must see what is actually happening over what they want to see happen.
• Thinking about systems and their dynamics suggests alternative approaches and attunes leaders to
important aspects of organizational behavior, especially in military organizations that value tradition and
standardization

L422

Leading Multi-National Operations

AY 2020-2021

L422AS-157

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

Advance Sheet for L422

Leading in Multi-National Operations

1. SCOPE

How does a commander influence forces in a multi-national operation? As a multi-national operation
commander, is it possible to understand and leverage fundamental beliefs or concepts that appeal to all
militaries? Can good social, emotional, and cultural intelligence overcome national differences? These are
some of the challenges experienced by Lt. Gen. William Joseph Slim as one of the senior allied battlefield
commanders during WWII. Conducting large-scale combat operations in the Burma campaign in 1942-
1945 against superior Imperial Japanese forces and without adequate resources, Slim turned defeat into
victory using a multi-national operation consisting of a broad mix of allied nations. This lesson’s case
study provides a constructive example of how an Army commander inspired his multi-national force to
unite and fight under a common cause.

You analyze the case after reflecting on the readings for this lesson. Two readings come from RTO-

TR-HFM-120, a 2006 NATO report with an aim to highlight and raise the profile of intercultural factors
within multi-national operations. The primary objective of the report is to increase awareness and
understanding of the influence of intercultural factors on a multi-national force. The report highlights
organizational, national, and military culture, including some of Dr. Edgar Schein’s and Dr. Geert
Hofstede’s concepts.

You use the NATO report in your analysis of how Slim led his multi-national force to victory. The

insights you gain provide a better understanding of why it is critical to recognize the underlying values
and importance of a shared vision within a multi-national operation. This lesson provides an opportunity
to examine the importance of understanding the enemy’s’ underlying values to defeat him. L422 provides
an opportunity to apply many of the concepts from earlier leadership lessons to what Slim accomplished
in Burma. Moreover, this lesson is a foundational lesson in AOC that provides concepts you apply as you
face the challenges of building a multi-national coalition in the large-scale combat operation scenario in
AOC.

2. LEARNING OBJECTIVES

Prerequisite Learning objective: TLO-AOC-1, “Examine how commanders drive the operations
process using the framework of understand, visualize, describe, direct, lead, and assess
(UVDDLA).”

This lesson supports TLO-AOC-10: Analyze the commander’s role in leading battalion and larger
units in modern warfare, as listed in the L400 block advance sheet.

ELO-10.4
Action: Explain how a commander successfully commands in multi-national operations.
Condition: As a field grade officer at the organizational level (commander’s perspective) operating
within complex, ambiguous, and unstructured environments applying the art of command and the

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principals of Mission Command, using doctrinal references, readings, case studies, class discussions, and
block examination.
Standard: Analysis includes—
a. Explain the significance of shared values in multi-national operations.
b. Explain the significance of cross-cultural awareness and understanding in the operations process.
c. Explain the role of the transformational and transcultural leader in commanding multinational
operations.
Learning Domain: Cognitive Level of Learning: Comprehension
PLO 2 Attributes Supported:
a. Apply ethics, norms, and laws of the profession.
b. Apply knowledge and commitment to strengthen warfighting.
c. Apply interpersonal skills, leadership, and followership.
d. Meet organizational-level challenges.
e. Demonstrate commitment to develop further expertise in the art and science of war as life-long
learners.
f. Demonstrate commitment to study beyond their own service’s competencies.

3. ISSUE MATERIAL

a. Advance Issue: None. L422 advance sheets and readings are available on Blackboard.

b. During Class: None. Wi-Fi is available.

4. HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT

a. Study Requirements:

(1) First Requirement:

Read:
L422RA: “Slim in Burma,” by Scott A. Porter. Created by and for CGSC. [15 pages]
L422RB: “Introduction” from Chapter 1 of TO-TR-HFM-120, by Brian McKee, Angela R.

Febbraro, and Sharon L. Riedel [Read paragraphs 1.3.1 through 1.3.4. [5 pages.]
L422RC: “Leadership and Command” from Chapter 3 of TO-TR-HFM-120, by Angela R.

Febbraro, Read paragraphs 3.2.4 through 3.2.6. [5 pages].
L422RD: Dimensionalizing Cultures: The Hofstede Model in Context, by Dr. Geert Hofstede,

2010 [8 pages] at:
http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol2/iss1/8/?&sa=U&ei=9owuVLrgCIfXaqzngIgJ&ved=0CEsQFj
AJ&usg=AFQjCNFBrStE0AJaAVPLrpU8s-lDqibYvw

For additional (optional) readings on this topic, consider:

L422ORA: “Higher Command in War” by Field Marshal Sir William Slim Read Pages 10-21.
[11 pages], which is a verbatim transcript of GEN Slim’s 1952 address to CGSC students, faculty and
staff.

(2) Second Requirement: Case study worksheet: Available in Blackboard in the AOC

leadership lesson area. This is a study aid. Use the case study worksheet to frame and analyze the
case. As you complete the worksheet, reflect on what you might have done differently as the leader in
the case study.

http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol2/iss1/8/?&sa=U&ei=9owuVLrgCIfXaqzngIgJ&ved=0CEsQFjAJ&usg=AFQjCNFBrStE0AJaAVPLrpU8s-lDqibYvw

http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol2/iss1/8/?&sa=U&ei=9owuVLrgCIfXaqzngIgJ&ved=0CEsQFjAJ&usg=AFQjCNFBrStE0AJaAVPLrpU8s-lDqibYvw

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(3) Third Requirement: Reflective questions: Reflect on these questions as you complete the
readings and prepare for class. Prepare to discuss them in class:

-Is it possible to achieve commitment in a large multi-national operation or is compliance the
highest level of influence one can achieve?

-Did LTG Slim demonstrate transformational leadership behaviors that are consistent with US
Army doctrine?

-Does a “supranational culture” really exist between all military organizations?

-Should we judge other cultures solely by the values and standards of our own culture?

-How can you use the concepts to gain commitment in a multi-national force?

b. Bring to class or have electronic access: L422 advance sheet and readings

5. ASSESSMENT PLAN

The instructor assesses your performance in L422 as part of the Module II: JRSOI grade, as well as
the leadership exam at the end of AOC. The instructor accomplishes this through assessing your
contribution to learning in the classroom and your performance on the AOC leadership essay. As a rule,
the quality of your participative effort and contribution to the other students’ learning weighs more than
the volume or frequency of your responses. See paragraph three, assessment plan, of the L400 Block
Advance Sheet (BAS) for additional, detailed assessment information.

L422RA-160

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading A
Slim in Burma

Author: Scott A. Porter

“People buy into the leader before they buy into the vision.” John C Maxwell

In May of 1943, Lieutenant-General William Slim took command of a newly constituted British Army
in India. The opportunity to command at Army level greatly surprised Slim. He was convinced that the
commander-in-chief in India (also responsible for Burma’s defense), General Archibald Wavell, was going
to dismiss him from his corps command after participating in a disastrous Army-level offensive against
Japanese forces along the Arakan coast of Burma. Instead General Wavell relieved Slim’s superior, Army
commander Lieutenant-General Noel Irwin. The news of defeat spread quickly to London, where Winston
Churchill commented: “The campaign goes from bad to worse, and we are being completely outfought and
outmaneuvered by the Japanese.” Churchill was right. The British enjoyed a considerable advantage in both
air and ground forces over the Japanese, only to be beaten by a better led and trained enemy. Regrettably,
the loss at Arakan followed the recent retreat from Burma. This same Army suffered humiliation and defeat
while fighting a withdrawal for one thousand miles through the Burmese jungles and into India. It was the
longest retreat in British history, and now it was capped off by the humiliating Arakan defeat. Irwin hoped
to catch the Japanese by surprise, assuming they would not expect an attack after all of their successes.
Instead, the Japanese Army built almost impregnable defensive blockhouses and was prepared for anything
the British threw at them. The British were once again badly beaten and forced to retreat into India. Nothing
in Southeast Asia had gone well for them, and final defeat loomed over their heads. It now seemed nothing
was going to stop the inevitable Japanese onslaught into India.

Slim’s Army had its back against the wall, and it was either time to stop the Japanese or face total

annihilation. To make matters worse, the Burmese theater was the last priority along the Allied supply line,
well behind the European, African and other campaigns in the Pacific theater. This newly constituted Army,
created from everything the Allies could scrape up in Southeast Asia, was composed of commonwealth and
non-commonwealth nations. British, Nepalese, Indians (Hindu, Sikh and Muslim troops), West and East
Africans, Chinese, and American forces were in the mix. Slim’s new command would be designated the
Fourteenth Army, and the new unit patch of a red shield and dagger was a symbol of hope to adorn every
shoulder. Hope aside, the challenges Slim faced were astronomical. Administration and supply were almost
nonexistent, and language and cultural differences made command and control a continual challenge. To
make matters worse, the Allied nations did not share a common vision of how to beat the Japanese.

The Japanese Offensive in Southeast Asia

Burma was part of a wider conflict waged in Asia and the Pacific. In December 1941, the Japanese
attacked not only Pearl Harbor but also Southeast Asia. On the “Burma attack axis,” the Imperial Japanese
Army quickly captured Saigon and then sliced through western French Indochina, Siam (Thailand), and
into Burma, capturing Rangoon by February 1942. The aggressive Japanese armies killed or captured
thousands of prisoners along the way, decimating Allied morale and fragmenting the remaining forces. If
defeat was not bad enough, the Allies were shocked to learn the Japanese had a complete disregard for

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waging war in accordance with the Geneva Convention. The Imperial Japanese Army treated prisoners
inhumanely, including summary executions and hanging many upside down for bayonet practice. Civilians
were not immune to Japanese brutality. The Japanese raped thousands of women, wiped out villages, and
strafed refugee columns for target practice. Allied forces did everything they could to stop the Japanese,
but were overrun before they could concentrate enough combat power to break the Japanese momentum.

In Burma, the Allies attempted to form defensive positions in the jungle only to be rapidly encircled
and decimated. The Japanese had every tactical advantage. They were mobile yet lethal, led by determined
and ruthless commanders. During the fighting withdrawal, Slim commanded “Burma Corps,” composed of
the 17th Indian and 1st Burma Divisions. The Burma Corps withdrew under pressure for 100 days in the
extreme heat and with a lack of supplies, surviving unimaginable harsh conditions. Yet unlike most Allied
units, they made it to India as a cohesive unit. Providentially for the Allies, the Japanese Army was for the
time overextended, and it needed time to reorganize and resupply. In an attempt to gain the initiative,
Lieutenant-General Noel Irwin launched what he thought would be a surprise attack back into Burma, only
to be stopped cold by entrenched Japanese defensives. Although Slim was part of these setbacks, his
promotion to Army commander was a risk Wavell’s superior, the supreme commander of the South East
Asia Command (SEAC), Admiral Louis Mountbatten, was willing to take. Mountbatten optimistically
expected a reversal of fortune in the Fourteenth Army, as he had absolute trust and confidence in Slim to
turn defeat into victory. However, the Allies were licking their wounds and holding their breath while
restless Japanese commanders took an operational pause and prepared for a major offensive into India.
Lieutenant-General Mutaguchi, commander of the Japanese 15th Army in Burma, was confident: “The
Army has now reached the stage of invincibility, and the day when the Rising Sun will proclaim our definite
victory in India is not far off.”

The American View in Southeast Asia

China was the priority for the United States in Southeast Asia. Britain’s priority was India. Controlling
Burma was essential to both nations. The British exploited Burma for economic gains for years, but now
they viewed Burma primarily as a last defense against a Japanese invasion of India. The Americans looked
at Burma as a strategic imperative for supplying Chiang Kai-Shek in China. President Roosevelt considered
China a vital interest to the United States, and was convinced that China would be the fourth of the Big
Four post-war powers. In the short term, China was important because it was the only place from which the
United States could bomb Japan. The president assumed the leader of the warlords in China, Chiang Kai-
Shek, was the most likely future leader of a united China, despite the overtures Mao Tse-tung was making
with his Chinese Communist movement. The United States had supplied Chiang Kai-Shek with massive

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aid since the Japanese invaded Eastern China in 1938. Even though the war bogged down in China, the
United States was still committed to aiding Chiang Kai-Shek, who now had his headquarters in Chungking,
a city in western China. The supply route to Chiang Kai-Shek was the “Burma Road” which ran from
Rangoon to the Chinese border. However, ever since the Japanese held Burma, a new supply route had to
be constructed from Eastern India through northern Burma (linking into the Burma Road) to China. It would
become known as the “Ledo Road.” The Ledo road was just 103 miles long but would take 15,000 US
troops and 35,000 locals most of 1943 to build.

Construction of the supply routes and resupply operations to the Chinese was under the command of
Lieutenant General Joseph “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell. Stillwell, as the deputy supreme commander, was the
commander-in-chief for all US forces in the China/Burma/India (CBI) Theater and chief of staff for Chiang
Kai-Shek. A West Point graduate and severely disabled from the First World War, Stilwell was an eccentric,
hard-nosed officer who disregarded all formality and was apt to not only disagree, but also openly insult
and verbally abuse any superior. His peers looked in amazement as he openly criticized and poked fun at
the Army Chief of Staff, General George C. Marshal, to his face. Strangely enough, Marshal rated Stilwell
as the best corps commander in the US Army. Marshal was actually a long-time mentor of Stilwell, loved
his grit, unrelenting determination, and genuine concern for his troops. Marshal also knew Stilwell was
highly intelligent and a skilled Chinese linguist. Stilwell served three tours in China, embracing the culture
and understanding the internal dynamics of Chinese politics. Although Stilwell would be outranked in
Southeast Asia by British flag officers, everyone in Washington knew Vinegar Joe would “hold his own.”

In addition to supplying nationalist Chinese forces, Roosevelt sent Stilwell off to India with two new

priorities. The first was to convince Chaing Kai-Shek to place his armies under operational control of the
United States to help ensure their loyalty as an ally in the fight against Japan. President Roosevelt expressed
earlier to Stilwell his concern that his “Europe first” policy would dishearten Chaing Kai-Shek to a point
where he would sign a separate peace treaty with the Japanese. Stillwell had to ensure this did not occur.
The second priority was to help mend relations between the Chinese and British, who had been at odds for
generations. President Roosevelt could not have picked a worse person for this task. The problem was that
Stilwell, just as much as the Chinese, detested the British and their military policies in the Far East. He
refused to work for any British commander, as his distaste for the British and their empire became more
and more obsessive. He considered Mountbatten a useless naval officer who led a charmed life who only
advanced due to his royal connections as a great-grandson of Queen Victoria.

With Mountbatten as the supreme authority, Stilwell was in a precarious situation as his deputy supreme

commander. Technically, Stilwell’s American and Chinese forces were not part of Fourteenth Army, and
it appeared Stilwell was to play his maverick role and operate independently from Mountbatten’s goals and
objectives. At a time when the Allies needed a combined effort, it appeared instead the entire command
structure in Southeast Asia was to be disjointed and uncoordinated.

Slim understood the crisis in command and became the bridge builder. Slim established a professional

and personal relationship with Stilwell centered on conveying the importance of a unified effort to defeat
the Japanese in Southeast Asia. Slim’s intellect, competency, and inspiration transposed Stilwell’s refusal
to serve under British command. Slim understood the significance of Stilwell’s bias against aristocratic
British generals, and insured Stilwell was aware that he advanced up the ranks the hard way, through leading
men in combat. Slim likewise knew that appealing to Stilwell’s warrior ethos was the key to influencing
him, and Slim was right. Stilwell was surprised Slim had an operational vision and plan to defeat Imperial
Japanese forces in Southeast Asia. Stilwell admired Slim’s fighting spirit and knew a bold, combined effort
to attack the Japanese in Burma would be the Allies’ best chance for success. To everyone’s amazement,
in the last minute just when the coalition was falling apart, Stilwell announced he would serve under Slim’s

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command. Stilwell had uncharacteristically taken an unshakable admiration for another general, and a
British one at that. It would mean a tremendous boost in combat power and resources for the Fourteenth
Army. Just as important, it meant a common approach to beating the Japanese in Southeast Asia. Slim’s
relationship with Stilwell proved invaluable to not only the Fourteenth Army, but also to Mountbatten and
the overall Allied cause.

Courtesy of the United States Military Academy Department of History.

Preparing the Fourteenth Army for Victory

Mountbatten issued Slim a formidable mission; stop the Japanese from invading India while preparing
for a major offensive to retake Burma. This would require beating the Japanese at their own game: jungle
warfare. It seemed like an impossible mission, attacking an undefeated and ruthless enemy with a
fragmented Army that experienced one defeat after another. Slim learned hard lessons from the withdrawal.
“We had taken a thorough beating. We, the Allies, had been outmaneuvered, outfought and outgeneraled.
Japanese commanders were confident, bold to the point of foolhardiness, and so aggressive that never for
one day did they lose the initiative.” Slim, short on time and supplies, had to unite, motivate, and train his
Army to attack and defeat the wary Japanese before they attacked him. However, where to start in assessing
a demoralized and beaten Army? What could he do as an Army commander? He immediately met with his
subordinate commanders and assessed the situation. He decided to prioritize and act upon three urgent
matters: supply, health and morale.

Supplying the two corps of the Fourteenth Army was a continual challenge with its 700-mile front,

stretching from the Chinese border to the Bay of Bengal. The terrain in eastern India and western Burma
consisted of thick mountainous jungle, so difficult to travel that not even a trade route existed, much less
an improved road or rail network. Once through these mountainous jungles, Burma opens up into an interior
plain with four large rivers that run north-south. To carry out a major offensive in this terrain, an Army had
to be innovative in how it resupplied, or it was destined to quickly culminate. The supply problem in the
Fourteenth Army had to be fixed, and fast. Slim gave it his highest priority, and gave guidance to his staff
to set in motion an engineering feat unknown in that part of the world to build road and rail networks.
Instead of worrying about the differences in his units, he looked for strengths and capabilities. In the
Americans, he found large robust planning staffs, engineer and railroad building capabilities, and Dakota
DC-3 aircraft. There were many skilled laborers in the Indians and Chinese, and in the Africans and
Nepalese, he leveraged their ability to carry supplies and equipment over long distances in highly restrictive
terrain. In effect, it was a race of logistics between the two belligerents. The Japanese had extended exterior

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lines reaching all the way back to Saigon, while the Allies had interior lines but required major infrastructure
improvements. The Fourteenth Army surged in their efforts, knowing logistics would be vital for any
chance of success against the Japanese. Within months, stockpiles of supplies were plentiful enough to
support major operations into Burma.

Slim assessed his second greatest problem to be the health of his Soldiers. One hundred and twenty

Soldiers were evacuated sick for every man evacuated with wounds. Some units were depleted by 80
percent due to disease. The prevention of tropical diseases could make a difference in the ability to fight. It
was mostly malaria, but dysentery, typhus, and skin diseases were also crippling his force, and he had to
radically improve health conditions. Slim held his commanders’ accountable for their men’s sanitary
discipline and conditions, including the enforcement of taking the bitter-tasting quinine. Contacting leading
professors of commonwealth medical schools, Slim took their advice to establish malaria forward treatment
units and surgical teams rather than evacuating Soldiers hundreds of miles to the rear. For those Soldiers
still requiring evacuation to better medical facilities, Slim built dirt runways quickly in the jungle near each
major unit.

All the supplies and medical support in the world would not guarantee success against the Japanese.

Slim knew that supply and health challenges were systems that can be physically improved, but morale is
different. It is a state of mind. Slim’s goal was to “raise the fighting spirit of the Army.” To do this, he had
to convince his multi-cultural Army that Japan must be defeated. In his rakish Gurka hat and casual
demeanor, Slim had to urgently convey a sense of purpose to his Soldiers, no matter where they were from.
He chose to take an affiliative approach by making each Soldier feel they were part of something greater
than himself. Slim felt the foundations of morale were the spiritual, intellectual, and material, in that order.

For the spiritual, there must be a great and noble object, and its achievement must be vital. It is a firm

belief in a cause. The method of the achievement must be active and aggressive, and each soldier must feel
that what he is and what he does matters directly toward the attainment of the object. From an intellectual
foundation, each soldier must be convinced that the objective can be obtained, that it is not out of reach. He
must also feel that the unit he is part of is efficient and the leaders value their soldiers’ lives. From a material
foundation, each soldier must know that his leaders are striving to acquire the best weapons and materials
to accomplish the mission, and living and working conditions be made as good as possible. What he found
in some of the rest and reinforcement camps depressed him. In Slim’s words:

Decaying tents or dilapidated bashas, with earth floors, mosquito ridden and lacking all amenities, were

the usual accommodation; training and recreation were alike unorganized; men were crowded together from
all units. No wonder spirits sank, discipline sagged, and defeatist rumors spread. Worse of all, the
commandants and staffs, with a few notable exceptions, were officers and NCOs who were not wanted by
units or who preferred the rear to the front.

Slim would find an officer with energy, experience, and organizing ability and put him in charge. He

replaced underperforming commanders with others who he asked division commanders to personally select.
He personally selected his division commanders, and he knew they were committed to beating the Japanese.
He was quickly building his team, and he knew he had to have subordinate commanders he could trust.
However, he also had to earn trust from his subordinate commanders, and relying strictly on his position
and rank would not be sufficient in such a diverse multi-national Army. He met regularly with his
commanders, forging consensus through participation. Handling relationships was not always easy, as
Stilwell was one not to be easily controlled. Still, Slim never lost his composure. He was always willing to
listen, yet firm and decisive while implementing his vision.

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Slim wore a Gurkha hat for a reason. Prior to WWII, he served with the Gurkhas in the Indian Army
for years, developing a deep regard for not only his Gurkha Soldiers but also Indian culture in general. He
earned respect and loyalty from his Gurkhas, and he always had a place in his heart for them. It was a
mutual respect that would last a lifetime. Something more than the Gurkha hat mattered now; it was the
Fourteenth Army patch on his shoulder. He desperately needed commitment from his entire force.
Commitment from not only his British, Commonwealth, and Gurkha Soldiers, but also with Indian, African,
Chinese, Nepalese and American Soldiers. Although Slim was initially not an expert on the cultures and
motivations of all his forces, he made a remarkable endeavor to study each one. In part, he did this by first
speaking to their commanders. He learned what each culture valued, and their perspective on the current
situation. For example, for his Gurkhas, he knew the weight they put on their warrior ethos and personal
pride. For the Indians, he knew the importance of how they felt about protecting their way of life according
to their faith and family ties. After all, the Japanese were on their doorstep. For the New Zealanders,
Australians, and British, it was an opportunity to appeal to their nationalistic pride by illustrating the
possibility it might be the last chance to turn back years of disaster and embarrassment. For the Africans, it
was much more difficult because of the number of countries from both the west (Nigeria, Gold Coast,
Gambia, Sierra Leone) and east side of the continent (Kenya, Uganda, Nyasaland, Tanganyika, and
Northern Rhodesia), the hugely diverse cultures, and a wide range of religions. But like the Gurkas, most
shared a similar warrior ethos and pride in their war fighting abilities. Still, Slim had to be cognizant of
each country and their aligned cultures. It was necessary to respect their artifacts and practices, and
understand their attitudes and expectations. In the end, Slim knew he had to use his interpersonal skills to
appeal to each one at a time by using a shared value. It would be a major undertaking to unite his forces,
and time was against him.

Slim made a tremendous effort to visit every battalion in the Army, travelling vast distances to meet

face-to-face with his Soldiers. He was not the eloquent type. Neither mass formations nor loud emotional
boasting would occur. Slim simply spoke to his Soldiers about his greater vision, a vision of driving evil
from the world. “If ever an Army fought in a just cause, we did,” Slim wrote in his book Defeat Into Victory.
“We fought for the clean, the decent, the free things of life, we fought only because the power of evil had
attacked these things.” It was a heartfelt and convincing cause. Most of all it was a common cause. The
Allies knew all too well the brutal methods of the Japanese, and further occupation by Japanese forces
meant further cruelty and even death to many innocents. He reminded his Soldiers what the Japanese had
done to innocents in occupied territories, such as Nanking, Singapore and Manila. In this, he wanted every
Soldier to internalize his role in the conquest to beat the Japanese. Again, in Slim’s words:

We played on this very human desire of every man to feel himself and his work important, until one
of the most striking things about our Army was the way the administrative, labour, and non-combat
units acquired a morale which rivaled that of the fighting formations. They felt they shared directly in
the triumphs of the Fourteenth Army and that its success and its honour were in their hands as much
as anybody’s.

Slim knew most of the languages of his men (except the Africans) since he spent many years in that

part of the world, he often conversed with them in their own language. He wanted to re-establish dignity
and hope in his men, and to do this meant improving living conditions and gaining confidence in their
ability to fight better than the Japanese Soldier.

Once living and health conditions improved, Slim established infantry training schools throughout

eastern India. Although the coordination and synchronization of combined arms was the focus of the
training schools, Slim knew the psychological dimension of close combat in the jungle against the Japanese

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was terrifying. To overcome this dimension, units trained and lived for weeks on end in the jungle. The
training was tough, realistic and extremely demanding, pushing each man beyond his normal scope of
endurance. They learned the sounds, smells and survival methods of the jungle. Many of the tactical lessons
they learned were actually from the Japanese, including cover and concealment, surprise attacks during day
and night, off-road mobility, and how to outflank , encircle and destroy the enemy. Once trained, patrols
would cross into Burma to surprise and destroy Japanese outposts, gaining valuable experience and
confidence. In February 1944, Slim would send his newly trained troops on a limited incursion into northern
Arakan, the same area in Burma that proved so costly in May of 1943. Although small in comparison to
previous or future battles, the second battle of Arakan was the first Allied success in Burma. The
overzealous and overconfident Japanese repeatedly pounced on the two Indian Divisions, only to be
repulsed by the well-trained and air-supplied Indians. To Slim, it was as much an assessment of how the
Japanese would fight as his own troop’s readiness.

Understanding the Enemy

Slim assessed and understood the three Japanese Armies (33rd, 28th, 15th) inside Burma. He posted all
the pictures of the senior Japanese officers above his desk and studied their personalities incessantly. Of all
the Japanese commanders, he mostly studied the 15th Army commander, Lieutenant-General Mutaguchi.
Mutaguchi was the victorious commander of the Singapore campaign in 1942, gaining immense acclaim
and respect from his superiors. Mutaguchi’s Army was the strongest of the three Japanese armies, and
defeat of the 15th meant defeat of the Japanese in Burma. The 15th was even larger than Slim’s Fourteenth
Army, but still lacked an effective supply system due to extended lines through restrictive terrain.
Mutaguchi was pretentious and assumed he could always capture British supplies to continue his advance,
just as he had done since Singapore. Now Mutaguchi envisioned a final campaign into India, one that would
result in the fall of the British Empire in Asia. Mutaguchi was a militarist zealot, an ardent follower of the
Japanese Bushido code. Above all, he was a glory seeker, and the lives of his Soldiers were secondary to
the importance of his personal fame. He was abusive to his subordinate commanders, and they feared and
loathed him. Presenting Mutaguchi with bad news would guarantee a tirade of abuse and public humiliation.
He viewed the Fourteenth Army as racially inferior and incapable of outfighting the Japanese. He failed to
grasp the changes Slim made in the Fourteenth Army, and viewed any setback as a personal failure by one
of his subordinates rather than a possible improvement by the Allies. Overconfident and always desiring
the offense, Mutaguchi was known to push his troops beyond their limit. He consistently took huge risks,
stretching his lines of communication to the breaking point and relying on the capture of British supply
depots to continue his offensives. Too much glory and opportunity awaited Mutaguchi to stop now.

Slim assumed Mutaguchi would not think twice about wasting the lives of his men to gain more acclaim

for himself. He had done so countless times before, driving his men using banzai attacks until the enemy
would break or be encircled. This time it was for total victory, as India would be Mutaguchi’s final prize.
Although outnumbered, Slim somehow had to turn Mutaguchi’s aggressive attacks into a weakness to
exploit. Slim would use the fanaticism of the Japanese commander against himself. He knew Mutaguchi
would brazenly attack to seize Fourteenth Army supplies in eastern India to sustain his advance into the
heart of India. Even Tokyo Rose was blasting the airwaves about the impending Japanese attack into India.
Instead of attacking into the strength of the Japanese, Slim would set the trap and wait for the Japanese
onslaught.

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Defeat into Victory

In the spring of 1944, Mutaguchi made good on his intentions to attack into eastern India. This time,
instead of the encircled force fighting a breakout and withdrawal, Slim would have a second echelon
prepared to strike the Japanese. The second echelon, unknown to the Japanese, could reinforce battle
positions or attack the Japanese rear if they encircled Allied defensive positions.

At the same time 12,000 “Chindit” commandos initially under British Major General Orde Wingate

(Wingate would die in an aircraft accident on 24 March 1944), would infiltrate by ground and air to cut the
over-extended Japanese supply lines through Burma, forcing the Japanese to wither on the vine. Before
assuming command of the Chindits, Wingate lived a checkered past. Wingate’s temper was legendary, like
Stilwell, and he endlessly quarreled with his superiors. Unlike Stilwell, he did not get away with his
outbursts, and his bad behavior would usually be his undoing. However, he was remarkably skilled in
guerrilla operations, and his success in uniting the Abyssinians against the Italians was noteworthy.
Although noteworthy, his accomplishments were negated by his vulgarity to his superiors. After his success
sin Abyssinia, Lt. Col. Wingate was fired, demoted to major and sent back to England. He then spiraled
into deep depression and attempted suicide by cutting his own throat, only to be saved by an attentive nurse
who happened to be close by. While recuperating, he was given a chance to redeem himself in Slim’s
Fourteenth Army.

After the Japanese captured Burma, Fourteenth Army needed officers badly. Churchill dispatched

Wingate to India to raise a guerrilla force, with the mission to infiltrate Burma to hinder Japanese
operations. Wingate jumped at the opportunity, and once in India he took whatever men he could get, which
were usually outcasts from the British and Gurkha ranks. This did not deter Wingate, as he flourished in
his element with a fresh force and a new mission. He educated and trained his men incessantly in guerrilla
warfare, and he inspired them with his ability to make them feel they were a special class of warriors.
Sporting a beard and devoid of rank, Wingate led from the front, earning trust and respect from his men as
they conducted successful long-range operations in Japanese rear areas. Wingate had his confidence back,
rapidly rising in rank to major general and feeling his force alone could accomplish a decisive victory in
Burma. In fact, Wingate considered his special force and the tactics they used to be the fundamental method
to defeat Imperial Japan inside Burma, believing the destruction of their lines of supply and command and
control abilities would eventually force them to withdraw.

Except for Wavell, Slim was the only senior officer in Southeast Asia to believe in Wingate’s abilities

as a commander. Slim looked beyond Wingate’s eccentricities and understood the value of special
operations conducted in the Japanese lines of communication. Slim took note of the respect the Chindits
had for their commander, along with their sacrifices and unwavering loyalty to their mission. The two
commanders built a professional and personal bond that would not only serve the coalition but the
advancement of special operations in the future. Although not a believer in all of Wingate’s bold assertions
that special operations was the deciding factor, Slim gave Wingate the resources he needed. In reality,
Slim’s entire plan hinged on the Fourteenth Army in India holding decisive terrain at Imphal and Kohima.
If the Japanese penetrated at these critical junctions, it would be the final defeat for the Allies in Southeast
Asia. The Chindit brigades, which would be deep inside Burma, would be doomed because they could not
survive without aerial resupply. For the Japanese, penetration meant the road to Delhi would be unimpeded
and British supplies plentiful for Mutaguchi’s advancing forces.

If successful at Imphal and Kohima, Slim knew the Fourteenth Army could seize the initiative and

aggressively pursue Mutaguchi back through Burma, destroying the Japanese war machine as they fell back
on their own lines of communication. Wingate’s Chindits would be cutting these lines and the Japanese

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would be unable to conduct an orderly delaying action. Slim envisioned forging ahead through the jungle,
catching retreating Japanese units along the way while still maintaining tempo. Once breaking out into the
central plains of Burma, Slim would use combined arms to destroy the Japanese 15th Army, and if necessary
drive it all the way through Burma and into the sea. This overland attack was code-named OPERATION
CAPITAL, and it was Slim’s brainchild. Slim’s subordinates certainly had buy-in, but Mountbatten had
been against it. He had his own vision for the Fourteenth Army: to attack Burma from the sea. In love with
the sea and all matters naval, his personal ambition was to someday be First Sea Lord. He had tried an
amphibious assault before at Dieppe, only to have the Canadian landing force decimated by the Luftwaffe
and German coastal batteries. This would be his reprieve from that tragedy, and Slim’s overland vision was
put on hold. Mountbatten tried his best to get the resources he needed, but luckily for Slim the amphibious
assault assets were being tied up for the Normandy landings. In the end, Slim got his way with CAPITAL.

As Slim predicted, the Japanese attacked in strength by assaulting the Allies head-on and trying to

encircle their defensive positions. Slim committed second echelon forces to reinforce his defensive
positions or counterattack the Japanese. In desperation, the Japanese resorted to suicidal banzai attacks. It
was a long hard fight, but the Fourteenth Army held at Imphal and Kohima, and when it was all over, the
Japanese sustained 53,500 casualties. The Allies destroyed five Japanese divisions, and severely damaged
other units. The fanatical Japanese had been relentless. Only 650 were taken prisoner, and most of these
because they were so badly injured they could not resist. Although suffering 17,000 casualties the Allies
were exuberant. The Japanese Army suffered the greatest defeat in its history.

At last, the turning point arrived and every man in Fourteenth Army, no matter where they were from,

knew it. The battles in Arakan and eastern India shattered the myth of Japanese invincibility. The risk Slim
took in allowing Mutaguchi’s forces to attack into eastern India paid off. Slim knew he had the initiative,
but he also knew he could lose it if he did not quickly capitalize on the opportunity to retake Burma. Slim
faced a dilemma: time was of the essence but he did not want to launch an unsynchronized, major offensive
before his Army was fully prepared. To complicate matters, the monsoon season was beginning and it was
widely believed by Allied commanders that offensive operations would be impossible through the
horrendous mud and across swollen rivers. Slim was undeterred. He was determined to relentlessly track
and destroy Mutaguchi’s retreating forces. Resilient to the horrendous conditions men, mules, and elephants
pursued the retreating Japanese through the drenching rain and quagmire. The Allies were soaked to the
bone and miserable, but at least they were well supplied by aerial drops. The Japanese were not so fortunate.
The trails were strewn with Japanese equipment and dead.

By December, the Fourteenth Army had made it through the jungles, over the mountains, and into the

central plains of Burma. Now Slim could effectively employ his combined arms strategy using artillery,
tanks and air support to complete the annihilation of the Japanese in Burma. Slim knew the initiative of his
subordinate commanders would make the difference between victory or defeat. Practicing what is today
known as “mission command,” he believed that if every subordinate commander knew his operational plan
and intent, they would determine the best tactical plan for success. This was especially true for Wingate’s
Chindits, whose 12,000 commandos wreaked havoc along the Japanese supply lines and rear areas.

The Japanese also began making sweeping changes, but it was too late. In an unprecedented move,

Mutaguchi was relieved of his command and Lieutenant General Kimura Heitar took command of a battered
yet potent Japanese force. It would not matter. Without any combat experience and totally unprepared for
Slim’s powerful Fourteenth Army, Kimura retreated all the way to Rangoon by the spring of 1945. He
surrendered his entire force to Slim that summer. OPERATION CAPITAL was a complete success, both
in terms of tactical and operational objectives. The Japanese Imperial Empire would never be the same. In
typical Slim style: “To the Soldiers of many races who, in the comradeship of the Fourteenth Army, did go

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on, and to the airmen who flew with them and fought over them, belongs the true glory of achievement. It
was they who turned Defeat into Victory.”

Courtesy of the United States Military Academy Department of History.

L422RB-170

US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading B
Chapter 1 of TO-TR-HFM-120

Authors: Brian McKee, Angela R. Febbraro, and Sharon L. Riedel

1.1 RESEARCH TASK GROUP STRUCTURE AND COMPOSITION

Since 1990, there has been a significant increase in the number of military operations that have required

North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) nations to contribute forces as part of a multinational coalition
or alliance. Moreover, the range of mission types has broadened to include peacekeeping, peace support,
and humanitarian operations. This trend is expected to continue. There is evidence to suggest that subtle
differences in the organizational and national cultures of the countries that contribute personnel to missions
can have an impact on the overall operational effectiveness of the multinational force. There exists,
therefore, a requirement to consider and integrate the intercultural issues and factors that surround and
influence multinational military collaboration, particularly at the operational level of command.

Owing to the complex nature of this research area, it was seen as highly desirable that a multinational

perspective be developed regarding the most important topics for investigation. Thus, in the autumn of
2003, the NATO Human Factors and Medicine (HFM) Research Task Group (RTG) on Multinational
Military Operations and Intercultural Factors (RTG-120) was formed. RTG-120 consisted of
representatives from a variety of NATO countries including the United Kingdom (UK), Canada, the United
States (US), the Netherlands, Slovakia, Germany, and France. Over the course of its 3-year mandate, the
RTG-120 held meetings hosted by contributing nations in Toulon, France; Strausberg, Germany; Fort
Leavenworth, the US; Kösice, Slovakia; and Ottawa and Montreal, Canada. The membership of the group
comprised of specialists in the field of team studies, military command and control, military training and
selection, and cross-cultural and social psychology. Participants included researchers from Defence Science
and Technology Laboratory (Dstl) and QinetiQ in the UK; the Army Research Institute and the Naval
Underwater Warfare Center in the US; Defence Research & Development Canada (DRDC) – Toronto,
DRDC Centre for Operational Research and Analysis, and the Canadian Forces Leadership Institute in
Canada; TNO Human Factors in the Netherlands; the Bundeswehr in Germany; and the Department of
Aviation Medicine in Slovakia.

The original proposal for RTG-120 stressed that it was important that a cross-national and cross-cultural

forum be developed in order to fully utilize individual nations’ current understandings of the issue of
multinationality in military operations. It further specified that with the growing number of nations within
NATO and the interaction with Partnership for Peace (PfP) nations, the collective knowledge base and
guidance within such a forum could only serve to strengthen current NATO understanding of and
preparation for future operations. It was intended that the work of the group would allow nations to build
on the findings and recommendations from the final report and develop complimentary research
programmes to ensure an improved appreciation of the problem area and contribute to appropriate
intervention strategies.

Although the initial intention of RTG-120 was to develop a comprehensive review of the literature in

this area, this was found to be an impossible task, given the recent accelerated rate of growth of work

Go to Table of Contents

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undertaken on this issue. Thus the present report is not meant to be comprehensive and exhaustive, but rather
its aim is to highlight and raise the profile of intercultural factors, and to help drive forward developments in
this area. The primary objective of this report is to increase awareness and understanding of the impact of
intercultural factors on multinational military operations in the following areas: organizational factors,
leadership and command, teams, pre-dispositional and psychosocial factors, communication, technology, and
societal cultural trends. The work of the RTG on these substantive areas comprises the content of this report.
It is hoped that the theoretical and applied knowledge generated by the contributing nations of RTG-120 on
these topics (or reviewed in this report) will further an understanding of diversity in the areas of human
culture, organizations and technologies of relevance to multinational military operations, and ultimately
contribute to the effectiveness of their collaborations.

1.2 BACKGROUND

As stated earlier, most NATO nations have been responding increasingly to international crises and

conflicts in the post-Cold War period through support for multinational operations. An example of this can
be observed in Figure 1.1, which illustrates the Canadian commitment in the last part of the 20th century.
As can be seen, over an approximately 25-year period, Canada committed to more operations, more
frequently, as time passed. Furthermore, almost all of these Canadian Forces (CF) operations were
multinational coalitions.

The increase in multinational missions has led to the identification of a number of potential areas of

conflict or stress between collaborating countries that stem from inter-group relations and dynamics, which
themselves emanate from differences in culture, language, 1 religion, class and gender customs, work
ethics, military values, political systems, levels of expertise, and standards of living, to name a few (Plante,
1998). Bowman (1997) identified “ten points of friction” that have historically affected coalitions:
differences in goals, logistics, capabilities, training, equipment, doctrines, intelligence, language,
leadership, and cultural practices (see also Stewart, Bonner, & Verrall, 2001). Further, although differences
in language, terminology, military doctrine, equipment, capabilities, and command organization may all
have been present in previous coalition operations, they may be exacerbated by the level of interaction
among units and limited preparation time available to most coalitions today (Marshall, Kaiser, &
Kessmeier, 1997).

In the present post-Cold War global context conflicts are more likely to be the result of internal state

disintegration (“failed states”) or civil war than the result of interstate conflicts, as has been true in the past
(Winslow, Kammhuber, & Soeters, 2004). As threats to international peace increase, military forces may
find themselves challenged by more diverse, complex environments than ever before, environments which
include many other actors such as representatives of the United Nations (UN), the media, and
nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). Often they must face these challenges in a foreign cultural

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environment. Such conditions demand a high degree of intercultural competence in dealing with the ethnic
cultural and linguistic diversity of the local population, the cultures of other militaries, and the cultures of
other international organizations (Winslow et al., 2004). In addition to military operations, multinational
forces are often used during operations other than war, a class of mission that has grown over the post-Cold
War era. Such operations include goals as diverse as deterring hostile actions, combating terrorism, and
providing relief from natural disasters. These missions, like other military operations, are undertaken by
coalitions from diverse national cultures but also involve NGOs and private voluntary organizations.

Such a change in global context demands new understandings of interoperability, or “the ability of

systems, units or forces to provide services to and accept services from other systems, units and forces and
to use these services so exchanged to enable them to operate effectively together” (Blad & Potts, 2004, p.
149). The traditional NATO understanding of interoperability, for example, has been largely based on
technical issues such as common message formats and data presentation protocols (Blad & Potts, 2004).
However, such an understanding is unsuited to post-Cold War multinational operations. An emerging US
concept, which describes the richer conceptual depth of the interoperability needed, is “co-operability”
(Blad & Potts, 2004). This term describes the shared understanding that cognitive and doctrinal
interoperability can provide. In the UK, this is termed “interoperability of the mind;” a similar German
concept is “einheit im denken,” which means literally “unity in thought” (Blad & Potts, 2004). This term
implies a depth of common military education and training to produce officers who approach problems in
the same way with confidence and mutual understanding based on shared military education and values
(Blad & Potts, 2004). Although an understanding of interoperability that takes into account dimensions
such as doctrine, command and control, rules of engagement, standardized operating procedures, training
and logistics (the so-called “hard” dimensions of interoperability) appropriately goes beyond technical
issues, it still neglects the so-called “soft” dimensions of interoperability, such as language, ethics, and
social beliefs, that pertain more to culture (McFate, 2005). Indeed, Winslow and Everts (2001) argue that
it is not only system interoperability but operational and particularly “cultural interoperability”– the shared
way by which multinational military coalitions or alliances “do business” – that contributes to mission
success. Similarly, cultural differences (e.g., in beliefs about information sharing) may affect the ability to
advance from technical interoperability to “intercooperability,” and may reduce the ability of different
elements within a coalition to achieve “intercooperation” (Handley, Levis, & Bares, 2001).

1.3 DEFINING CULTURE

As the previous discussion shows, the focus of this report centers on issues arising from the interaction

of groups of people from different cultural backgrounds. It would therefore be useful to begin by first briefly
defining the concept of culture.

Throughout the past century, many definitions of culture have been developed. One of the most

frequently cited conceptualizations of culture is by Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck (1961), who state that culture
consists of patterned ways of thinking, feeling and reacting. Schweder (1991) suggests a set of shared
meaning systems, and Goodenough (1971) proposes a set of standards for perceiving, believing, evaluating,
communicating and acting. Parsons (1951) explains culture as patterned systems of symbols that direct the
orientation of action, and Schein (1985) defines culture as a pattern of basic assumptions with which
problems can be coped. Trompenaars and Turner (1993) state that culture is the way in which a group of
980, 1991) defines culture as the collective programming of the mind that distinguishes the members of one
group (nation) from another (nation).

Simply put, culture describes the learned patterns of behavior and thought that help a group adapt to its

surroundings. As such culture operates at many different levels and reveals itself in the beliefs, attitudes

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and behaviors of groups of people. At a societal or group level, culture is important in helping to explain
distinctness between groups of people. At a very general level, culture unifies groups of people and
distinguishes them from others. Culture constitutes the vehicle for the perpetuation of identity and for the
mitigation, synthesis, and rationalization of change. The fact that culture is such an all-inclusive,
multifaceted concept means that it serves many varied functions, among them marking off a group and so
including some and excluding others.

1.3.1 Organizational Culture

This report focuses specifically on interactions of organizations across nations and so it would prove

informative also to discuss the notion of organizational culture and national culture. Traditionally the term
culture has been used by anthropologists and sociologists in the analysis of social and national groupings.
However, the utility of the concept in explaining and understanding organizational dynamics and
differences has led increasingly to its adoption by business developers, analysts, and human resource
professionals. Below, for instance, is a definition of organizational culture proposed by Schein (1984):
Organizational Culture is the pattern of basic assumptions that a given group has invented,
discovered or developed in learning to cope with its problems of external adaptation and internal
integration and that have worked well enough to be considered valid and therefore to be taught to
new members as the correct way to perceive, think, and feel in relation to those problems. (Schein,
1984, p. 4)

Organizational culture should not be viewed as a static, never changing concept. In any given situation,
actors may employ different aspects or components of the culture, manifesting the same culture in different
ways in different situations. Furthermore, as the society and the economy in which the organization operates
change over time, so too do the constituent institutions. Often such changes are imperceptible to the actors
involved; however changes can also be dramatic and sudden, especially where an organization has resisted
such changes in the past.

Culture has an historical and tested aspect; it has allowed and allows an organization to effectively meet

its needs and the challenges that it faces. It involves more than simply structures but includes ways of
thinking and acting. It is incorporated into a socialization process for new members to ensure its
continuation, and it marks the organization from others. Culture then is a complex whole that goes beyond
what can be observed in the hallways of the organizational headquarters. It is more than the logo, the
mission, or the chain of command, although these are all part of the culture and are visible cues of
organizational culture. As Hagberg and Heifetz point out, “the culture of an organization operates at both a
conscious and subconscious level” (2000, p. 2). Organizational culture is a complex phenomenon that
includes symbols and symbolism, relationships, behaviors, and values (Alvesson, 2002).

Organizational culture permeates the host institution and operates at many different levels, from the

highly visible to the collective unconscious. Schein identifies, for the purpose of analysis, three levels of
organizational culture: artifacts and creations, values, and basic underlying assumptions (1985, p. 15).

These levels of culture allow us to build up a series of layers of analysis, as can be seen in Figure 1.2.

In much the same way as an archeologist must dig through layers of sediment to uncover older finds, so too
the researcher and planner must dig deeper and deeper within the organization to uncover core components
of the culture.

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The most visible manifestations of organizational culture are the artefacts and creations, which include

“the constructed environment of the organization, its architecture, technology, office layout, manner of
dress, visible or audible behavior patterns and public documents such as charters, employee orientation,
materials and stories” (Schein, 1984, p. 4). Identifying these attributes of the organizational culture
involves, among other things, analysis of corporate documentation and organization charts, as well as
observation of architectural features, employee dress, language, and behavior.

Much less obvious are the values of the organization or the next layer of culture. For Schein, the

reference to values is intended to include only espoused values, “what ought to be, as distinct from what
is” (1985, p. 15). Others have modified this concept to include actual values, which are seen as having a
more direct influence on steering or guiding behavior (Sathe & Davidson, 2000). These values offer
rationalization and justification for action and although normally invisible to the actors involved, they can
be identified and articulated.

The most abstract layer of culture identified by Schein (1985) involves the basic underlying

assumptions. Values derived from actions taken in the past that have allowed the organization to persist
become givens. They “sink below the conscious level of culture and become taken-for-granted assumptions
that organizational members use to guide their behaviors and attitudes” (Sathe & Davidson, 2000, p. 280).
Identification of these elements of the culture requires much more sophisticated and probing analyses of
the organization. It might further be argued that this cultural layer is the foundation for all others. For this
reason, it is frequently the hardest to identify, and the most resistant to change.

For Rutherford (2001), much of the focus of the literature on organizational culture emphasizes its role

as a tool for inclusion. Attention is paid to the cohesive aspects of culture “as a defence against the unknown
and a means of providing stability” (Rutherford, 2001, p. 372). These elements of culture provide
parameters around the institution that allow people to operate effectively and comfortably within the
system, socialize or regulate the absorption of new members, and maintain an identity over time. The other
face of this aspect of culture, often ignored, is that it can function to exclude. At times the same processes
and cultural elements may be brought to bear to either include or exclude others. Culture then is dynamic
and situationally dependent, allowing for opposing roles of unification and differentiation. The most visible
manifestations of organizational culture are the artefacts and creations, which include “the constructed
environment of the organization, its architecture, technology, office layout, manner of dress, visible or
audible behavior patterns and public documents such as charters, employee orientation, materials and
stories” (Schein, 1984, p. 4). Identifying these attributes of the organizational culture involves, among other
things, analysis of corporate documentation and organization charts, as well as observation of architectural
features, employee dress, language, and behavior.

Much less obvious are the values of the organization or the next layer of culture. For Schein, the

reference to values is intended to include only espoused values, “what ought to be, as distinct from what

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is” (1985, p. 15). Others have modified this concept to include actual values, which are seen as having a
more direct influence on steering or guiding behavior (Sathe & Davidson, 2000). These values offer
rationalization and justification for action and although normally invisible to the actors involved, they can
be identified and articulated.

The most abstract layer of culture identified by Schein (1985) involves the basic underlying

assumptions. Values derived from actions taken in the past that have allowed the organization to persist
become givens. They “sink below the conscious level of culture and become taken-for-granted assumptions
that organizational members use to guide their behaviors and attitudes” (Sathe & Davidson, 2000, p. 280).
Identification of these elements of the culture requires much more sophisticated and probing analyses of
the organization. It might further be argued that this cultural layer is the foundation for all others. For this
reason, it is frequently the hardest to identify, and the most resistant to change.

For Rutherford (2001), much of the focus of the literature on organizational culture emphasizes its role

as a tool for inclusion. Attention is paid to the cohesive aspects of culture “as a defence against the unknown
and a means of providing stability” (Rutherford, 2001, p. 372). These elements of culture provide
parameters around the institution that allow people to operate effectively and comfortably within the
system, socialize or regulate the absorption of new members, and maintain an identity over time. The other
face of this aspect of culture, often ignored, is that it can function to exclude. At times the same processes
and cultural elements may be brought to bear to either include or exclude others. Culture then is dynamic
and situationally dependent, allowing for opposing roles of unification and differentiation. Trompenaars
and Turner (1993) developed the QinetiQ model of organizational culture (Bradley, Mylle, Strickland,
Walker, & Wooddisse, 2002). The model provides another conceptual framework to understand
organizational culture, which again is made up of three layers (see Figure 1.3).

Layer One – Artifacts and Practices. This is the observable behavior and tangibles of an organization.
This includes such things as groupings, hierarchy, and uniform. Processes and procedures can be thought
of as Layer One. Essentially, the surface layer is easily changed and easily adapted by the people in the
organization. It represents the explicit culture.

Layer Two – Attitudes and Expectations. These are the attitudes and expectations that make individuals

feel that Layer One is right. It is more conceptual than tangible, and consists of doctrine, customs, and
traditional practices. It represents those truths held by the organization, which resist change but which can
be adapted in time.

Layer Three – Deep Structure. This is the source and structure from where attitudes and expectations

are generated. It is difficult to attribute specifics to this layer, but it may consist of such things as the
relationship between command and subordination. Essentially, this inner layer represents basic assumptions
that have underpinned the culture of military forces for centuries. This is the layer of implicit culture.

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The value of this model as suggested by its proponent is that it provides insight into the management
of change. Changing Layer One is relatively easy as long as Layer Two and Layer Three remain unchanged.
Changing Layer Two is very difficult and takes time and firm leadership. Changing Layer Three will be
very difficult but not impossible. In some cases a change to Layer One may, on the face of it, be very
sensible or insignificant, yet may affect a much deeper cultural instinct or value.

1.3.2 National Culture

In the 1980s, Geert Hofstede made a comprehensive attempt to capture national value and cultural

differences through a cross-cultural classification scheme of work-related values in organizations. Despite
criticism, his five-factor model of culture value dimensions remains the most robust and influential model
on culture. Initially, Hofstede (1980) identified four cultural value dimensions. Later work with the Chinese
Culture Connection added a fifth dimension based on a study of Asian cultures, a region largely excluded
from Hofstede’s earlier work (1991). These five dimensions are elaborated below and figure
prominently throughout this report:

Power distance is the degree of inequality among people that the populace of a country considers
normal. Uncertainty avoidance is the degree to which people in a country prefer structured over
unstructured situations. Structured situations are those in which there are clear rules as to how one should
behave. Masculinity-femininity is the degree to which values like assertiveness, performance, success, and
competition (which in nearly all societies are more associated with the role of men) prevail over values like
the quality of life, maintaining warm personal relationships, service, care for the weak, and solidarity (which
in nearly all societies are more associated with the role of women). Individualism-collectivism describes
whether one’s identity is defined by personal choices and achievements or by the character of the collective
group to which one is more or less permanently attached. Long-term vs. short-term orientation is based on
the values stressed in the teachings of Confucius. Long-term orientation focuses on the degree to which
a culture embraces, or does not embrace, future-oriented values, such as perseverance and thrift.

1.3.3 Hofstede’s Dimensions and Military Culture

One important contribution of these five dimensions is that they afford an opportunity to test specific

hypotheses about cultural differences that influence such things as organizational and team effectiveness.
Soeters (1997) conducted a study applying these cultural dimensions to the military. He used samples of
cadet-officers of military academies in 18 countries as respondents (see also Soeters & Recht, 2001). To
demonstrate the relevance of Hofstede’s work more clearly, Soeters connected the four original dimensions
(long-term orientation was not included in this study) to the well-known institutional occupational model
(Moskos & Wood, 1988).

Moskos and Wood (1988) examined the attitudes of soldiers toward their work in the military. On one

hand, attitudes may be institutional reflecting a vocational (i.e., professional) orientation, exemplified by
patriotism and a total dedication to the military organization. On the other hand, attitudes may be
occupational reflecting an attitude toward working in the military as just another job (Moskos & Wood,
1988). This latter attitude implies that military personnel are not solely focused on the internal labor market
of the military. Soeters (1997) found that high degrees of individualism, indicating that the cadets feel fairly
independent of the organization, and masculinity, reflecting the wish to earn high salaries, are indicators of
occupationalism.

The other two cultural dimensions, power distance and uncertainty avoidance, were found to be

indicators of certain types of organization: high degrees of power distance and uncertainty avoidance were

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seen as manifestations of the classic “machine” bureaucracy, or hierarchical, formal rules-based
organizations. Low degrees of these cultural dimensions were indicative of more modern flexible results-
oriented organizations.

Soeters’ study of military academies showed that, compared to their compatriots in the civilian sector,

the cadet-officers in general yielded higher scores on power distance and lower scores on individualism and
masculinity. These results confirm common notions about differences between civilian and military
workers and organizations. In the military, hierarchies and power distances are known to be more elaborated
and fundamental to the structure of the organization than they are in the business sector. Also, in the
military, collectivism (i.e., group orientation, interdependency and cohesion) is a more important concept
than it is among typical civilian organizations. Finally, in the military earning high salaries and striving for
individual merit is not valued as much as it is in business corporations. The dimension of uncertainty
avoidance (rule orientation, formalization, the wish to continue to work for the military) showed mixed
results: some academies, such as those in Germany, Italy, Denmark, the UK, and especially the US,
exhibited higher degrees of this dimension, which had been expected, but there were also a number of
academies (the Netherlands, Canada and Norway) that scored lower on this particular dimension (Soeters,
1997).

By and large, the results were consistent with common knowledge about cultural differences between

the civilian and the military sectors. These results clearly demonstrate that in the military – contrasted to
civilian organizations – something like a supranational culture exists. This supranational military culture is
more collectivistic, more hierarchical and less salary-driven than the average civilian working culture. The
consequence of this is that military personnel of different origins can often function and get along with each
other without too many problems (e.g., Elron, Shamir, & Ben-Ari, 1999). Moskos (1976, 2001) even claims
that military personnel from different countries seem to be better suited to work together than they are with
civilian personnel from NGOs or local agencies from their own countries.

Page (2003) undertook a similar study applying Hofstede’s cultural dimensions to samples of military

personnel. These career officers (or officer-equivalent personnel) at the time of the study were mostly
attending international courses or conferences in Europe. Included were a number of NATO countries
(Belgium, the Netherlands, Canada, Germany, Norway, the UK, and the US) as well as a number of PfP
countries (Georgia, Romania, Slovakia, and Slovenia). The results from this study largely confirmed the
earlier academy findings of Soeters and Recht (Page, 2003). There was one clear exception. Page found
that German career officers displayed higher levels of power distance and masculinity when compared to
the German student-officers in the Soeters (1997) study. As was found in the Soeters study, the US military
proved to be high on masculinity and uncertainty avoidance. As to long-term orientation, which was not
measured by Soeters, no significant differences were found in long-term orientation between
countries or between military and civilian organizations.

1.3.4 Military Culture

As can be seen from the preceding discussion, the organizations involved in this study are somewhat

different from most other public and private enterprises. Thus, in addition to understanding national and
organizational culture, an existing body of literature analyzing military organizational culture needs to be
briefly examined. This will allow readers some insights into the importance and relevance of culture in
military operations.

Military organizations are unlike any other public or private institution. While sharing the same

fundamental cultural influences as other organizations within a given country, they view themselves, and

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more importantly, are viewed by many others, as very different. As Soeters points out; “uniformed
organizations are peculiar. They represent specific occupational cultures that are relatively isolated from
society” (2004, p. 465). The very nature of the principal mission for which militaries are intended also sets
them apart from other public or private institutions within a society. As Snider puts it, “Military cultures
derive from the purpose or tasks for which society raises militaries” (1999, p. 5). At the same time, military
cultures also reflect the cultures of the broader societies in which they exist.

While it could also be said that all organizational cultures derive from their purpose, military institutions

remain alone in their primary purpose, seen by Snider as warfighting, which he argues “still determines the
central beliefs, values and complex symbolic formations that define military culture” (1999, p. 5). Rather
than engage in a debate over the appropriateness of this function as the central element in the military
mission, suffice to say that warfighting can be viewed as a critical, and historically important, military
purpose. However, given the changing nature of security it might be more appropriate to define warfighting
as upholding or securing peace and security by the use of arms.

Although modern militaries are involved in a range of activities or operations other than war, a more

encompassing definition of the core military function still has as its central focus the notion of the legally
and societally sanctioned use of weapons. In this case, use of weapons is not only to wage war but also to
defend or maintain peace either within or outside of national boundaries. Snider articulates four essential
elements of military culture; these include ceremonial displays and etiquette, discipline, professional ethos,
and cohesion and esprit de corps (1999, p. 6). In these elements we can still recognize Schein’s layers of
culture such that ceremonial displays may relate to the most visible (artifacts) and esprit de corps and ethos
to the least visible aspects (basic underlying assumptions) of organizational culture.

Zellman, Heilbrun, Schmidt, and Builder neatly summarize the core elements of military culture as

“conservative, rooted in history and tradition, based on group loyalty and conformity and oriented toward
obedience to superiors” (1993, p. 369). Defined in this way, the potential gulf between military and civilian
organizational culture is all the more apparent. The emergence and increased domination of relatively new,
non-traditional, “flat” organizations espousing more egalitarian views stand in stark contrast to this
admittedly traditional definition of military organizational culture. However, such articulations of the
constituent elements of military culture may be said only to accentuate existing differences. For this reason,
much thought has been given, particularly in the US, to the acceptable gap between the military and civilian
worlds (for US sources, see Snider, 1999; Williamson, 1999; Hillen, 1999; for UK sources, see Dandeker,
Higgs, Paton, & Ross, 1997).

That militaries the world over share some common elements, beliefs and ideas is evident; however, this

should not imply that all military cultures are the same, a notion that may have influenced the lack of
preparations for multinational operations in the past. As Sharp and English have pointed out, the historical
development, political and economic background, and national cultural differences that impact on each
military has led to marked differences in national military organizations (2001, p. vi). As will be seen, these
military intercultural differences are important to consider; otherwise, they can lead to problems and
issues in the conduct of multinational operations.

1.3.5 ORGANIZATION OF REPORT

This report examines the influence of culture on multinational military operations in a number of critical

areas relating to operational effectiveness. The next chapter (Chapter 2) deals with organizational factors
and looks at the impact of the structure of individual coalition or alliance partners as well as their varying
policies and programs on cooperation and morale. Chapter 3 examines research on the different cultural

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perspectives regarding leadership and command that may be problematic in a coalition or alliance setting.
Further chapters examine the research conducted on teams and team building (Chapter 4), cultural
predispositions and psychosocial determinants (Chapter 5), communication (Chapter 6), and technology
(Chapter 7). Not all key factors fit neatly into these section headings and so Chapter 8 looks at a number of
important societal issues such as public opinion, casualty tolerance, and conscripted as opposed to volunteer
forces. Once more the analysis focuses on the impact of these national cultural differences on the ability of
militaries from different countries to work effectively together. The report concludes with some suggestions
to assist in resolving differences and allowing for greater understanding and cooperation
within the context of multinational military operations (Chapter 9).

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US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
US Army Command and General Staff School

Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Advanced Operations Course (AOC)
L400: Art of Command/Module II: JRSOI

L422: Leading in Multi-National Operations

L422: Reading C
Chapter 3 of RTO-TR-HFM-120

Author: Angela R. Febbraro

3.1 INTRODUCTION

As history demonstrates, the challenge of leading a multinational coalition force or military alliance is

not new (Plante, 1998). In fact, it may be as old as war itself. From the time of Troy to the Crusades to the
Thirty Years Wars, from the Napoleonic Wars to the alliances of World Wars I and II, and from the Korean
conflict to the “war against terrorism” in Afghanistan, nations have associated with each other in order to
achieve a common purpose (Lescoutre, 2003; Elron, Shamir, & Ben-Ari, 1999).

Increasingly, however, and particularly since the end of the Cold War in 1989, the employment of

military forces in multinational operations demands a broader range of leadership competencies than
previously required of military commanders (MacIsaac, 2000). Contemporary coalition operations often
consist of new partners who typically have not trained together and who have very different military
traditions and cultures (Marshall, Kaiser, & Kessmeier, 1997). Indeed, cultural bias, deep seated religious
prejudices, and long historical memories have made the integration of a multinational force a significant
leadership challenge in the post-Cold War era (Plante, 1998). Further, since the Cold War, multinationality
occurs lower down in the chain of command, making it an issue for a broader range of personnel, whether
at the strategic, operational, or tactical level (Stewart, Macklin, Proud, Verrall, & Widdowson, 2004).
Proficiency in command or leadership at the operational level, for instance, requires the ability to integrate
the operations of different forces (e.g., within an alliance or coalition) towards the achievement of mission
objectives, despite sources of friction such as differences in goals, logistics, capabilities, training,
equipment, doctrines, intelligence, language, leadership, and cultural practices (Plante, 1998; Stewart,
Macklin, et al., 2004). In particular, McCann and Pigeau (2000) emphasize that building an effective
coalition force in today’s operations requires that a leader be able to weld together military personnel from
different cultures, who have varying abilities and expectations. This ability to integrate diverse forces will
become increasingly important as coalition operations become more prevalent and as such operations
depend more and more upon effective teamwork among members of diverse cultural backgrounds, each
with their own agenda, leadership expectations and style (Bisho, 2004; Bowman & Pierce, 2003; Klein,
Pongonis, & Klein, 2000; Plante, 1998). In short, while multinational missions vary in goals, their
participants vary in their agendas, leadership and command structures, and cultures (Klein et al., 2000).

Scholarly work on managing global change in the new security environment has been sporadic and

scarce, with the exception of research conducted by military personnel or affiliates whose work is not
widely published (Graen, & Hui, 1999). Cross-cultural leadership has not been a major topic of research or
training in most militaries (Teo, 2005). Further, much of the work on interoperability in multinational
military contexts has focused on technological issues and has neglected the role of human, and in particular,
intercultural, factors. This chapter, therefore, will focus on three major aspects of leadership in the context
of multinational military operations and intercultural factors, with a specific emphasis on the human,
cultural dimension. The first aspect pertains to individual leadership characteristics (including traits,
behaviors, and other attributes) that are important in the context of leading multinational, intercultural

Go to Table of Contents

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military operations. The second aspect concerns the leadership implications of cultural barriers to
multinational teamwork. The third aspect pertains to leadership or command structures that may be used in
the context of multinational, intercultural military operations. The final section of the chapter will focus on
recommendations for leadership training and development in the context of multinational, intercultural
military operations and teams, and will be followed by a few general concluding comments.

3.2 INDIVIDUAL LEADERSHIP CHARACTERISTICS IN THE CONTEXT OF
MULTINATIONAL, INTERCULTURAL MILITARY OPERATIONS

3.2.1 Defining Leadership

Karol Wenek (2005), author of Leadership in the Canadian Forces: Conceptual Foundations, defines

leadership as “directly or indirectly influencing others, by means of formal authority or personal attributes,
to act in accordance with one’s intent or a shared purpose” (p. 7). Similarly, the United Kingdom (UK)
Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations (1999) suggests that leadership is “essentially about the
projection of personality and character to get [others] to do what is required of them” (pp. 2 – 4). In the
broader organizational scientific literature, no one definition of leadership has been universally accepted,
but in reviewing this literature, and echoing the military definitions, Riggio (2000) defines leadership as
“the ability to direct a group toward the attainment of goals” (p. 340). Despite the many definitions of
leadership that have been put forward in the military and broader scientific literatures (see MacIsaac, 2000),
contemporary leadership theorists generally agree that, rather than reflecting universal qualities of
effectiveness, successful leadership is contextual, in that different aspects of leadership will emerge as
effective depending on the broad organizational or cultural framework (Gurstein, 1999). In the following
section, characteristics (e.g., traits, behaviors, or other attributes) of individual leaders or commanders that
may enhance effectiveness in multinational, intercultural military contexts are discussed.

3.2.2 Leadership is More Challenging in Multinational Military Contexts

Gurstein (1999) argues that the requirements of a leader in the multinational context is similar in many

ways to those required of a leader in any other military context: the capacity to motivate; to direct while
including; to articulate and instill a sense of common direction and purpose; and to distil, reflect, and project
unifying symbols and cultural values. However, each of these requirements is more complex, and more
problematic, in a multinational, multicultural, multilingual context, such as the highly political environment
that is typical of a United Nations (UN) peacekeeping mission. For example, abilities in mediation, conflict
resolution, negotiation, diplomacy, cultural sensitivity, and behavioral flexibility are all considered central
to the task of leading a multinational peacekeeping force; but these are typically not included as criteria in
leadership selection and training (Gurstein, 1999). Other analysts have also suggested that the requirements
for leading a multinational coalition are more demanding and difficult than the requirements for leading a
national force. Bowman (1997) points out that coalition leaders must clearly understand that coalition
politics may override coalition military logic, and that coalition leaders must be persuasive, not coercive,
and sensitive to national needs. According to Barabé (1999), the multinational force commander faces
unique integration and unity of effort issues. Against a diversity of impediments, political and otherwise,
the commander must blend the skills of component forces so that the whole is greater than the sum of its
parts. Similarly, Elron et al. (1999) suggest that the creation of trust in multicultural military settings may
be more difficult to achieve than in unicultural military settings, and that commanders must play an integral
role in establishing such trust within a multiculturally diverse force. In short, increased cultural diversity
within multinational military organizations will increase the level of complexity in the military
commander’s task at all levels, multiply the challenges facing military leaders, and require new skills in
negotiation, liaison, persuasion, and teamwork (Shamir & Ben-Ari, 2000; see also Stewart, Macklin, Proud,

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Verrall, & Widdowson, 2004).

3.2.3 Unity of Command vs. Unity of Effort/Purpose in a Multinational Military Context

It has been argued that the achievement of unity of command in World War II was due to the qualities of
individual officers, attributes such as confidence (both personal and mutual), logic, loyalty, selflessness,
devotion to a common cause, and a generous attitude (Wheatley & Buck, 1999). However, it has also been
suggested that unity of command, under a single commander whose authority is clearly defined and absolute,
is much less attainable in contemporary multinational coalition operations, largely due to national chains of
command reaching into theater headquarters and below (Potts, 2004). Bowman (1997), for example, has
argued that the best a coalition commander can hope for is unity of effort rather than unity of command.
Similarly, Davis (2000a) has held that because of the political nature of coalitions, the fact that commanders
typically have restricted authority to direct and control personnel and materiel, and the fact that doctrinal unity
of command is rarely achieved in coalitions, operational commanders must focus on achieving unity of effort
towards common multinational objectives. Such unity of effort, or unity of purpose, may be gained through
cooperation and mutual confidence between coalition partners and the force commander; through rapport and
patience; through respect for different cultures, religions, and values; through an understanding and
knowledge of each member’s national goals, objectives, capabilities and limitations; through identifying the
appropriate mission for participating nations; and through the assignment of equitable tasks in terms of
burden and risk sharing (Potts, 2004; Davis, 2000a). Unity of effort requires that everyone works to achieve
the same ends within the commander’s intent, which must be disseminated and understood throughout the
multinational force (Potts, 2004). However, understanding intent will be a more complex issue when
compounded by linguistic and cultural differences (Potts, 2004). Recognizing the overriding impact of
politics, Davis proposes three strategies to maximize unity of effort within a coalition: innovative command
structures that satisfy national constraints; coordination and consensus building leading to the appropriate
employment of force; and development of mutual confidence and cooperation within the coalition’s senior
commanders and staff (i.e., through leader development and education). Potts (2004) suggests that direct
personal contact, whenever possible, will be critical to ensuring unity of effort and a common understanding
of commander intent.

3.2.4 Attributes of Effective Leadership in a Multinational, Intercultural Military
Context

As is evident from the discussion above, many analysts agree that intercultural factors raise unique and
complex challenges for leaders of multinational military operations. Gillespie (2002) argues that
commanders must be aware of, and have the skills to properly address, the question of culture and diversity
and how it affects unity of effort in coalition operations. National interests and differences in doctrine, rules
of engagement, language, culture, logistics and technology, can all create frictions that could potentially
lead to problems in achieving the sense of unity needed to achieve a common goal (Gillespie, 2002).
According to Moelker, Soeters and vom Hagen (2007), who studied German-Dutch cooperation in Kabul,
Afghanistan, the role of leadership is critical in maintaining a multinational unit’s morale, in keeping good
relations with other units in the mission, and in creating cohesion within the unit. Whatever the similarities
and differences between various coalition forces, commanders must recognize the difficulty of integrating
national forces into a successful coalition (Bisho, 2004). As discussed previously, leaders and planners must
ensure a common understanding of coalition political goals in striving for full unity of effort (Bisho, 2004).
The coalition leader must build consensus regarding common goals and objectives, for it is this consensus
that provides the glue that binds the multinational force together (Davis, 2000a). Further, a multinational
coalition must share at least some elements of a common doctrine since this will determine force structure
and procedures. As Bisho (2004) suggests, successful coalition leaders will be those who best handle

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operational realities by applying the proper blend of vision, determination, patience, tolerance, and
flexibility. Further, as Davis (2000b) points out, coalition leadership must be sensitive to the fact that the
participating forces in a multinational operation are not always equally capable, and must assign individual
forces the missions that they are able to accomplish.

Indeed, the commander of a multinational force must have a thorough understanding of the capabilities

and weaknesses of each component and contributing unit, and must be attuned to national and political
sensitivities (UK Doctrine on Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). This calls for political awareness,
patience, tact, respect, and mutual understanding based on knowledge of other nations’ languages, history,
and importantly, culture (UK Doctrine on Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). Similarly, mutual
respect for the professional ability, culture, history, religion, customs, and values of participants will serve
to strengthen relationships. The military leader must respect the individual terms of service of the national
forces (e.g., leave and promotion rules, decorations policies, restrictions on types of acceptable
assignments), which may vary dramatically across contingents (see also McKee, Chapter 2). Finding a
means to reconcile these with the accomplishment of the mission is a significant responsibility for the
commander of a multinational peacekeeping force (Gurstein, 1999). The commander must weld all the
national contingents together into a strong and coordinated team, and by personal example, continue to
motivate the team. Further, there must be mutual understanding between the operational level commander
and component commanders to ensure unity of effort. In multinational operations, elements from other
nations may be embedded within each component and are likely to be responsive to their national chain of
command. This can cause friction, which the commander must overcome. In short, the force commander
must integrate all elements into the coalition force and maximize their contribution regardless of need, size,
or special competence (Bowman, 1997).

The present international security environment also involves working with many non-traditional

participants or partners, including members of other forces, organizations, and civilians (MacIsaac, 2000).
It is in this area that military leaders must assess the personalities and competencies of the individuals
involved, determine their specific interests, learn how to gain their support, and, where formal operating
agreements do not exist (or force protection/rules of engagement policies or interpretations vary; Potts,
2004), influence their actions to gain unity of effort (MacIsaac, 2000). Leaders must be able to shift from
an emphasis on formal agreed upon procedures to an emphasis in which liaison, negotiation, cultural
awareness, understanding, and patience elicit support (MacIsaac, 2000). Leaders must possess the capacity
to develop and adopt innovative solutions and methods for conflict resolution and to apply varied leadership
approaches to deal with diverse national aims or individual personalities (MacIsaac, 2000).

Gurstein (1999) has identified nine dimensions of leadership that are important in the context of

peacekeeping operations, many of which are applicable to multinational military operations more broadly.

The first dimension is communication, or the capacity to receive and distribute information accurately,

promptly, and in a manner that can be understood and acted upon by the receiver. In a national force, one
can rely on a shared language and culture and the broadly shared acceptance of the overall mission to
facilitate communication; this is not necessarily so in a multinational military operation.

The second dimension is human relations, or the capacity to work with staff in such a way as to

motivate, develop, and coordinate their actions and participation. In a national force this activity would be
facilitated by the general familiarity and camaraderie that leaders have with their followers and vice versa.
In a multinational context, the need to stitch together working teams at the command and operational level
from individuals and units with a variety of cultural backgrounds is a significant leadership skill and
challenge.

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The third dimension is counselling, or the focused concern with the all-around well-being of the
individual. In the peacekeeping or multinational military context, counseling is the responsibility of the
national battalions. In UN peace forces, however, the counseling that might be expected from senior officers
might be inhibited because of national or cultural differences between senior officers and field level troops.

The fourth dimension is supervision, or the ability to coordinate the activities of subordinates and work

groups to meet organizational objectives. In this context, the activities of lower level military supervisors
to the battalion level would likely be similar to those activities in national battalions. At the higher levels,
however, lack of mission clarity may present a barrier to effective supervision.

The fifth dimension is technological, or proficiency in technical operations and procedures. Among the
technical skills of particular importance in a multinational context are negotiation and conflict resolution
skills.

The sixth dimension is management science, or the formal measurement or evaluation element of

management activity.

The seventh dimension is decision making. In national forces, decision making is a highly valued

leadership quality. However, there may be ambiguities and difficulties in independent decision making by
military peacekeepers, for example, in the field.

The eighth dimension is planning, which includes the activities of forecasting, setting objectives,

developing strategies, programming, budgeting, setting up procedures, and developing policies. Leaders in
multinational military contexts must be highly flexible and adaptable in order to respond as required, for
planning in such contexts is often ad hoc and situational.

The ninth dimension is ethics. Ethics in a national force differs from that in a multilateral force in that

the mission of a national force tends to be relatively clear and a reflection of national interest. By contrast,
the mission of a multinational (e.g., peacekeeping) force may be much less clear and may involve
complicated activities in distant lands, only some of which may be considered traditional military
responsibilities. In peacekeeping situations, there is the additional complication of expecting military
leaders and subordinates to identify with a supranational ethical standard where the operation is undertaken
“on behalf of all of humanity” (Gurstein, 1999, p. 212). Thus, there is the need to develop an ethical base
to leadership in such morally difficult environments as are found in many peacekeeping contexts (Gurstein,
1999). Further, as Graen and Hui (1999) argue, cultural differences complicate ethical judgments, and
leaders must find ways to deal with these complexities, which is no small task.

3.2.4 Transformational Leadership: An Expanded Leadership Paradigm

In a multinational military context, contingents will each possess their own histories, traditions, morals

and values (Champagne, 1999). Thus, operational commanders will often be confronted with the challenge
of conducting operations under a united and multinational command, influenced by political direction from
multinational or multilateral organizations. The different contingents’ motivations will demand that the
commander foster a strong sense of purpose and trust, along with the capacity to deal with highly complex
operational situations while remaining cognizant of political and cultural aspects. Indeed, multinational
leadership skills involve more than simple team building skills and adaptability. Given political constraints,
and unclear civilian and political chains of command, multinational commanders must exemplify leadership
characterized by a strong sense of purpose, innovative thinking, enthusiasm, individualized concerns, and
satisfaction in accomplishment, while finding innovative ways to reward and manage their troops
(Champagne, 1999). In other words, as Champagne (1999) argues, what is needed from a multinational

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commander is charismatic, inspirational, and intellectual leadership (i.e., transformational leadership), and
also aspects of transactional leadership (e.g., contingent reward, management by exception). Transactional
leadership occurs when a leader rewards or disciplines followers based on the adequacy of their
performance of mutually agreed or leader-assigned tasks (MacIsaac, 2000). Transformational leadership
complements transactional leadership, and the full spectrum of leadership competencies is needed
(Champagne, 1999). Similarly, in discussing the Full Range Leadership Model by Avolio and Bass,
MacIsaac (2000) argues that transactional leadership must be expanded to meet the new challenges that
result from operational deployments in the more complex and politically ambiguous, less certain, new world
security environment. More specifically, in order for leaders to develop enduring trust, loyalty, and
commitment from followers, leaders must pay special attention to individual followers’ needs for
achievement and growth, and frequently act as coach or mentor (MacIsaac, 2000) – all aspects of
transformational leadership. Similarly, Shamir and Ben-Ari (2000) suggest that multinational military
leadership requires several aspects of transformational leadership, such as individual consideration
(sensitivity to members’ needs, respecting differences, and providing opportunities for development) and
intellectual stimulation (challenging others’ assumptions and stereotypes, encouraging a viewing of the
world from different perspectives, and fostering critical and independent thinking). Thus, to be effective in
today’s military environment, a commander must be willing to adopt and apply the principles of
transformational leadership in addition to the more typical transactional leadership approach, and moreover,
must be capable of transitioning from one approach to the other, depending on the circumstances (MacIsaac,
2000; see also Shamir & Ben-Ari, 2000).

Indeed, the ability to transition from one leadership style to another, depending on the cultural or

situational context, will be critical to multinational leadership, as different nations within a multinational
military contingent will value and respond positively to different styles of leadership. For example, as part
of the Global Leadership and Organizational Behavior Effectiveness (GLOBE) studies, and in addressing
the question of whether transformational leadership attributes would be “universally” endorsed in a sample
of 62 nations, Den Hartog et al. (1999) found that while some leadership traits (e.g., decisive, positive, just
and intelligent) were seen as universally positive, and other leadership traits (e.g., ruthless and egocentric)
were seen as universally negative, a number of leadership traits (e.g., sincerity, evasiveness, cunningness,
sensitivity, and enthusiasm) were indicative of effective leadership in some cultures but not others.
Similarly, because of the diverse values and core beliefs of different societies, concepts of leadership are
culture bound; for example, authority might be based on achievement, wealth, education, charisma, or
birthright, depending on the nation or culture (Lewis, 2000). In some societies, leadership is individual (or
even despotic), and authority and decision-making structures are hierarchical; in other societies, leadership
is collective, and authority and decision-making structures are more collaborative (Lewis, 2000). The most
effective leaders, therefore, will be those who can adapt their leadership style to suit different cultural
contexts (see also Lewis, 2000).

3.2.5 Combining Social, Emotional, and Cultural Intelligence: Transculturals

In addition to the above requirements, Champagne (1999) argues that an operational commander in a

multinational context must be able to deal with the social complexity, or the multiplicities, diversities, and
intricacies that are found in social dynamics and interconnections. Leaders will need both conceptual and
social competencies (i.e., “social intelligence”) in order to achieve success in high-tempo, diverse
multinational operations (see also Zaccaro, 1999). According to Zaccaro (2002), social intelligence reflects
an ability to successfully engage in social awareness, social acumen, response selection, and response
enactment. Similarly, Zaccaro, Gilbert, Thor, and Mumford (1991) maintain that effective leaders possess
social intelligence, which allows them to accurately perceive social requirements and select appropriate
behavioral responses. Zaccaro (1999) argues that effective military leadership entails the utilization of

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various social competencies, and maintains that behavioral flexibility, conflict management, persuasion,
and social reasoning skills are critical for senior military leaders. Once again, such social intelligence or
cultural intelligence skills will be all the more critical and complex for multinational military leaders (see
Stewart, Cremin, Mills, & Phipps, 2004). For example, such leaders will require the ability to conduct cross-
cultural dialogue and adapt their communication style to the situation, to engage in active listening, and to
be perceptive and sensitive to other cultures (Teo, 2005).

Similarly, other analysts have suggested that leaders require “emotional intelligence,” or the ability to

perceive emotions, access and produce emotions to aid in thought processes, understand emotions and
emotional knowledge, and monitor emotions for the promotion of emotional and intellectual growth (Mayer
& Salovey, 1997). Recently, increased importance has been placed on the emotional intelligence of leaders
due to findings suggesting that emotional intelligence can be used to facilitate transformational leadership
(see Zugek & Korabik, 2004). Although the concept of emotional intelligence (and the use of emotional
intelligence tests for military selection and training) has been questioned (Day, Newsome, & Catano, 2002),
the ability to understand emotional knowledge will be even more challenging and important for
multinational military leaders, given differences in emotional expression and communication across
different cultures.

Furthermore, as the world becomes more culturally pluralistic, transculturally skilled multinational

commanders will be needed, to transcend and accommodate cultural differences, and in order to integrate
people of different cultural backgrounds together in a unity of purpose (Graen & Hui, 1999). Thus, the
challenge of multinational military operations is to select and train “transculturals” – those individuals who
transcend cultural differences and who can bring people of different cultures together (Graen & Hui, 1999).
In a similar vein, other analysts, such as Gareis and vom Hagen (2005), have also suggested the importance
of transcultural leadership skills. Indeed, Gareis and vom Hagen call for the transformation of military
multinationality into military transnationality, which corresponds to a culture that is more than merely the
sum of several national elements, and is thus transcultural. To the extent that multinational military leaders
can achieve this cultural integration, cooperation and unit effectiveness will be enhanced. However,
transcultural leaders will be required to deal not only with diversity within the multinational force, but also
with diversity in the local population. As problems become more complex due to multinational, global
issues, the need for cross-cultural teamwork becomes increasingly critical. Thus, a way of command that
promotes such teamwork, or what Graen and Hui have referred to as “Best Leadership Practices,” is
required. Similarly, Elron, Halevy, Ben-Ari, and Shamir (2003) discuss interculturally effective leadership
behaviors such as:

Integrating differences (e.g., bringing different cultural perspectives and preferences together, resolving

differences among them, and generating integrative solutions and compromises); Bridging differences (i.e.,
communicating across differences, making efforts to understand them, and building shared bases and
commonalities, such as a shared military professionalism, lessons learned, mission specific experiences,
and supra ordinate goals); and Tolerating differences (i.e., passive actions or inactions that allow others the
space to act freely according to their own cultural values, beliefs and norms; suspending quick judgment;
and avoiding treading on others’ cultural “comfort zone,” such as not ridiculing others’ religious customs
or practices) (see also Mannix & Neale, 2005).

Reflecting the themes discussed above, Cremin, Mills, Phipps and Stewart (2005) have also discussed

the behavioral characteristics of effective multinational military leaders. These behaviors include: adopting
a flexible and adaptive command and leadership style in accordance with the foreign contingents under
their command; building personal and professional relationships with foreign contingents by paying them
visits and, where possible, socializing with them; establishing a shared “frame of reference” for the

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operation; and engendering understanding and trust between the different nations by negotiating and
building relationships (see also Stewart, Cremin, et al., 2004). Further, the knowledge, skills, and attributes
of effective multinational commanders (Cremin et al., 2005) include leadership and coaching skills;
cognizance of other nations from a variety of perspectives and how they relate to one’s own nation; empathy
towards other nations; and self-awareness and self-control. Finally, Cremin et al. (2005) offer the following
“top 10 tips for multinational commanders:”

If you don’t already have it, build your ‘national knowledge’ of the historical, social, political, economic
makeup of other nations in your command (along with a database of multinational experience).

Be prepared to adapt your command style.

Prioritize relationship building. Mutual respect is key. The goal is to foster a communicative,
collaborative, and co-operative relationship.

Understand national contingent capabilities. Do not over task contingent forces, but build the level of
challenge in tasks slowly.

Don’t assume your way is the only way. Different approaches may be needed.

Negotiation is commonplace; command by discussion.2

Be prepared for variations in the standard of spoken English (and be careful about the use of acronyms).
Always seek closed loop communication when conveying important information.

Establish a common sense of purpose.

Where possible, establish a common operating procedure (COP) (e.g., when shared doctrine and Standard
Operating Procedures or SOPs are lacking, create a unifying set of COPs/SOPs).

Promote equity of risk and reward.

Assisting Multinational Military Leaders: Liaison Officers and Liaison Teams

In past coalitions, the problem for multinational military leaders of establishing unity of effort or
command has been alleviated to some degree by the use of liaison officers and teams at the operational and
tactical levels (Gillespie, 2002). These groups of personnel are conversant in the national language and
culture of the forces involved, can smooth out communication problems, and may enhance coordination
and cooperation (Gillespie, 2002). These “directed telescopes” or teams of well-trained liaison officers
allow the commander to get regular feedback on the comprehension and compliance of coalition forces in
theater (Davis, 2000a; Gillespie, 2002). As will be discussed later in this chapter, the concept of liaison
teams was used in the Persian Gulf War, for example, when General Schwarzkopf selected a group of
liaison teams that established communications between his headquarters and the major coalition partners.
This team reported back to the Coalition Coordination and Communications Center, which provided
information and clarified orders to coalition members (Gillespie, 2002). Similarly, the formation of
“geostrategic scouts,” or officers who have the requisite linguistic, cultural, historical, regional, and
geopolitical knowledge, can assist coalition commanders when they move into various regions of the world
(see Davis, 2000a). Through these mechanisms, unity of effort at the operational and tactical level can be
achieved by confirming that the commander’s intent is properly developed, communicated, and carried out.

Liaison officers can also assist with technological interoperability in multinational forces which often

involves intercultural issues (Macklin, Christie, & Stewart, 2004). According to Metz (as cited in Marshall
et al., 1997), asymmetries in technology among coalition partners poses the greatest threat to cohesion and

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effectiveness during combat operations (see also Mazakowski, Chapter 7). Thus, while force modernization
has the potential to increase interoperability, it also brings new challenges that could compromise unity of
effort in multinational forces. The challenge for a commander is to balance any loss of tempo by the most
technologically capable elements of the force, against the inclusion of the least capable, in a way that
achieves the operational aim. It is also necessary for digitally superior headquarters to provide digitized
liaison teams to bring appropriate links and functionality to subordinate headquarters.

Ironically, the requirement for human liaison in the information age will be greater than ever before,

especially in multinational, intercultural operations. One key element in this new security environment will
be empowered, trained, and equipped liaison officers of appropriate rank that can provide the lubrication to
make the system work (Potts, 2004). Thus, trained liaison teams knowledgeable in military technology and
doctrine, as well as in language and culture, are important for mission success, as such teams can greatly
assist with the understanding of commander intent (Bowman, 1997; see also Macklin et al., 2004; Stewart,
Cremin, et al., 2004; and Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004).

Regardless of technology, there are several human interoperability issues that must be addressed in

multinational military operations. The most obvious is language. English is now the dominant language in
business and international popular culture. It has also emerged as the language of choice of the North
Atlantic Treaty Organisation’s (NATO’s) multinational High Readiness Force Land Headquarters. This
means that it will become increasingly important for native English speakers to be able to speak other
languages in order to enhance cultural sensitivity, and in order to build mutual understanding and respect
(Bowman, 1997; Macklin et al., 2004; Potts, 2004; Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). Language training must
therefore become an integral part of officer development (Potts, 2004). The language problem can be
lessened by the early identification of the need for translator support and the use of multilingual liaison
personnel (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999). Further, interpreters can assist not
only with translation but may also act as cultural, diplomatic, and political mediators (Bos & Soeters, 2006).

Another issue is food. Recent anecdotal evidence suggests that food will remain a key cultural

interoperability issue (Potts, 2004; Bisho, 2004). Further, it is recommended that commanders strive to
accommodate religious holidays, festivals, prayer calls, and other unique cultural traditions important to
various contingents, depending on the circumstances (Bowman, 2004; UK Doctrine for Joint and
Multinational Operations, 1999). In the Persian Gulf War, for instance, recognition and accommodation of
Arab cultural differences were essential in gaining consensus and maintaining cohesion within the coalition.
To assist with cultural and language challenges, linguists and area experts may be employed by
commanders at all levels (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999).In short, the skills
required for effective leadership in multinational military operations are significantly more complex than
those required in national and culturally homogenous military forces, and will present
unique challenges in the present global context (Gurstein, 1999).

CULTURAL BARRIERS TO TEAMWORK IN MULTINATIONAL MILITARY
OPERATIONS: IMPLICATIONS FOR LEADERSHIP AND COMMAND

It is evident that cultural differences in language, nonverbal behavior, and body language (e.g.,
differences in voice inflections or facial expressions; norms regarding acceptable length of eye contact or
personal distance; variations in handshakes) may all pose challenges to intercultural communication in
multinational military contexts (Desimone, Werner, & Harris, 2002; Gillespie, 2002; see also Riedel,
Chapter 6). In this section, however, potential cognitive cultural barriers to communication and teamwork
in multinational military contexts will be examined, with a particular focus on implications for leadership
and command (Hofstede, 1980, 1983, 1991; Klein, 2005; Klein et al., 2000).

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Hofstede’s Cultural Dimensions

In multinational military operations, as in other military contexts, command and control depends on a
shared understanding of the intent of the mission. Participants must be aware of the goals and expectations
for collaboration. Mission success requires communication and the monitoring of ongoing operations.
Military personnel need to understand the reasoning patterns, judgments, and decision making of
multinational coalition members in complex environments. However, during complex, time pressured
missions, such as are typical of coalition operations, judgments must be made in the face of considerable
uncertainty. Moreover, cultural differences may affect such cognitive tasks as planning, problem detection,
situation awareness, uncertainty management, and decision making. If commanders assume that others
interpret and react as they do, manage uncertainty as they do, and think about real and hypothetical issues
as they do, then there can be problems in command and control (Klein, 2005; Klein et al., 2000). Further,
command and control can be an even bigger issue in distributed situations, where face-to-face personal
contact is not possible, and feedback is limited (Klein et al., 2000). Although technology can assist
communication in distributed situations, technology does not always provide a suitable medium for
conveying important messages involving statements of intent, such as commander’s intent (Macklin et al.,
2004). Further, the greater the number of nations with disparate cultures, the greater the quantity of
information available and the greater the complexity of collaboration and coordination (Lichacz & Farrell,
2005).

In the 1980s, Geert Hofstede made a comprehensive attempt to capture national value and cultural

differences through a cross-cultural classification scheme of work-related values in organizations (Handley
& Levis, 2001). This classification scheme was based on four dimensions: power distance, uncertainty
avoidance, individualism-collectivism, and masculinity-femininity (Hofstede, 1980, 1983, 1991). Power
distance relates to the amount of respect and deference between those in superior and subordinate positions,
or the extent to which the less powerful in a system accept and expect an unequal distribution of power (see
also Klein et al., 2000). Uncertainty avoidance relates to planning, and the creation of stability, as a means
for dealing with uncertainty. Individualism-collectivism relates to whether one’s identity is defined by
personal goals and achievements or by the character of the collective group to which one belongs.
Masculinity-femininity refers to the relative emphasis on achievement versus interpersonal harmony.3
Hofstede subsequently assessed these value dimensions among thousands of IBM employees in 72 national
cultures and in 20 languages (Hofstede, 1991; see also Gerstner & Day, 1994; House, Hanges, Javidan,
Dorfman, & Gupta, 2004; and Javidan & House, 2001). Although the generalizability and validity of
Hofstede’s cultural dimensions have been questioned (see Klein et al., 2000), his work is generally seen as
a step forward in understanding and measuring differences in national culture and values (Handley & Levis,
2001). In particular, the dimensions of power distance and uncertainty avoidance have been seen as useful
conceptualizations of national cognitive differences relevant to leadership (Klein et al., 2000). Power
distance appears to describe a leadership style, while uncertainty avoidance relates to the concept of risk
assessment in leaders’ decision making (Klein et al.,2000).

Since Hofstede’s work was first introduced, many military researchers and analysts have incorporated

his dimensions, and other related cognitive factors, into their analysis of cultural barriers to teamwork.
For example, Bowman and Pierce (2003) have described four cognitive cultural barriers to teamwork that
they argue influence communication, coordination, and decision making in multinational military contexts.
Expanding on Hofstede’s conceptualizations, these four dimensions include power distance, tolerance for
uncertainty, the individualism/collectivism dichotomy, and cultural differences in reasoning. In Bowman
and Pierce’s terms, power distance describes the extent to which less powerful individuals in a system
accept inequality. In low power distance relationships, working patterns are more egalitarian and team
processes are more collaborative and interactive. In contrast, in high power distance teams, leaders tend to

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be directive, thereby constraining team creativity and collaboration. Tolerance for uncertainty reflects the
amount of discomfort experienced by an individual or team in the presence of unknown factors. A low
tolerance is marked by a search for details through rules and structure, whereas individuals or teams who
act or make decisions in the face of incomplete knowledge are exhibiting a high tolerance for uncertainty.
This difference can cause problems in a team, or among teams, if members or teams with high and low
tolerances must work together. One member or team will start slowly, collecting as much information as
possible, while the other member or team will move quickly toward an end product or solution. The
individualism/collectivism dichotomy reflects a preference for working alone or in a group. This dimension
includes a preference for building relationships among team members as contrasted with a focus on
individual task achievement. Individualists often view the mission as primary and relationships among team
members as secondary, whereas collectivists view team relationships as critical to producing a viable team
product. Finally, cultural differences in reasoning can also emerge in the context of multinational
operations. Such differences may be related to concrete versus hypothetical thought patterns: Hypothetical
thinkers are capable of envisioning several solutions to a problem, while concrete thinkers prefer to have
detailed plans of action and often use previously used solutions to solve new tasks. These differences can
cause problems in a team setting when a course of action is unclear or when conditions require changes to
a plan. The hypothetical thinker is capable of generating several possible solutions, while a concrete thinker
may view this as avoiding the problem at hand (Bowman & Pierce, 2003).

3.3.2 Power Distance, Uncertainty Avoidance, and Leadership

As indicated above, Hofstede’s dimensions have important implications for leadership. For example,

masculinity-femininity may affect whether the leader (and team members) are more focused on the
task/achievement or on harmonious interpersonal relationships. Individualism-collectivism may affect
whether the leader (and team members) are focused more on their own personal goals or the goals of the
collective. Long-term vs. short-term orientation may affect whether the leader (and team members) are
open to change or seek to uphold traditions. However, the cultural dimensions of power distance and
uncertainty avoidance appear to be especially pertinent to leadership and command. Differences in power
distance, for instance, are reflected in leadership style, as well as in the interpersonal power and influence
between the superior and the subordinate. In cultures with low power distance, we would find more
collaborative, egalitarian working patterns and team interchanges, less centralized or top down decision
making, and flatter organizational structures (Handley & Levis, 2001). It is interesting to note that even
among NATO nations, there are variations in power distance. For example, some studies have shown
Norway and Denmark to be low on this dimension, while Turkey, France, and Belgium have been found to
be high on power distance, which is associated with a more top down, hierarchical, authoritarian leadership
style (Hofstede, 1980; see also Soeters, Tanercan, Varoglu, & Sigri, 2004; but cf. Elron et al., 1999).
Similarly, Soeters (1997) found strong cultural differences in power distance in the military academies of
13 nations, with the UK military academy showing the highest level of power distance among all the
academies studied (see also Soeters & Bos-Bakx, 2003; and Soeters & Recht, 2001).

Significantly, there are also implications of power distance for mission command, or the command

doctrine underlying maneuver warfare. Mission command is designed to achieve unity of effort, a faster
tempo, and initiative at all levels; it requires decentralization of authority and decision making (see Davis,
2000b). The emphasis is on the development of skills and the transmission of a commander’s intent so that
personnel at all levels can function effectively when unexpected events occur with no time for additional
input from above (Handley & Levis, 2001). Comfort with this approach will vary with differences in power
distance (Klein et al., 2000; UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations, 1999; see also Soeters et
al., 2004). Specifically, cultures that are low in power distance will be comfortable with the mission
command approach to command and control, whereas cultures that are high on power distance will be less

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comfortable with this approach (see also Stewart, Macklin, et al., 2004). As Potts (2004) suggests, some
nations have inscribed the concept of mission command into their military cultures, allowing subordinates
considerable freedom of action and discretion to take the initiative within the commander’s intent as
circumstances change. Others expect to command, and be commanded, by detailed orders, with a need for
frequent reporting back to superiors and further direction as circumstances change. Potts argues that nations
must work towards a common understanding of mission command in order to maximize effectiveness in
multinational operations, while recognizing and accommodating different approaches. Similarly, Soeters
(1997) has argued that commanding officers of international military units should be aware that their
leadership or management styles are not necessarily understood in the same manner by different nations,
and that they should show mutual understanding and promote multinational teamwork on an equal status
basis, with shared interests and common goals for all nations involved. One way to achieve this, as
mentioned previously, is for leaders to adapt their leadership styles to suit the situation and cultures of their
component forces.

Differences in uncertainty avoidance, or the extent to which members of a culture experience

uncertainty as stressful and the extent to which they take actions to avoid uncertainty, are also relevant to
leadership, and in particular, to decision making (Hofstede, 1980, 1991). People (e.g., leaders) who are high
on uncertainty avoidance experience change and ambiguity as highly stressful; thus, they may seek out
rules that will provide structure and order for change, and are uncomfortable with making decisions in the
face of uncertainty (Klein et al., 2000). An organization that scores high on uncertainty avoidance will have
standardized and formal decision-making procedures (Handley & Levis, 2001), and a military organization
that is high on uncertainty avoidance is less likely to be comfortable with mission command (Stewart,
Cremin, et al., 2004). In contrast, people (leaders) who are low on uncertainty avoidance are more
comfortable making decisions in the face of uncertainty (Hofstede, 1980, 1991). In organizations with low
uncertainty avoidance, decision-making procedures will be less formal and plans will continually be
reassessed for needed modifications (Handley & Levis, 2001). Uncertainty avoidance also influences a
national group’s readiness to adapt in the face of an unexpected development. High stakes, time pressured
decision making is coordinated when multinational collaborators are similar on uncertainty avoidance and
risk assessment. However, it is difficult for people who value spontaneity and last-minute decisions to
coordinate actions with those who need firm, committed plans. When operations include people with
different tolerances for uncertainty, there can be tension. A leader or decision maker with high uncertainty
avoidance is likely to follow the procedure regardless of circumstances, whereas a leader or decision maker
with low uncertainty avoidance may be more innovative (Handley & Levis, 2001). Among NATO nations,
Portugal and Greece are rated high on uncertainty avoidance while Denmark and the United States (US)
are rated as low (Hofstede, 1980). Thus, the challenge for a commander or leader is to recognize cultural
differences in these areas and use them to balance perspectives rather than to create disharmony (Klein et
al., 2000).

Indeed, although analysts agree that national cultural differences in cognition may present barriers to

successful coalition command and control, coordination and communication (Handley & Levis, 2001; Klein
et al., 2000), these cultural differences may be overcome. Klein et al. (2000), for example, propose a cultural
lens concept that captures cultural differences in reasoning, judgement, and authority structure (see also
Klein, 2005). A cultural lens is a metaphor to allow those involved in command and control operations to
see their world as if through the eyes of other participants and to understand how options are conceptualized
and evaluated. According to Klein et al. (2000), the ability to decenter that is brought about through the
cultural lens can support the anticipation of actions, facilitate accurate judgements, and lead to the effective
negotiation of differences. Further, seeing the world through the cultural lens of others may increase
common vision in the face of divergent views (Klein, 2005). In short, a cultural lens is a tool that a
multinational leader can use to strengthen common ground and the coordination of action, and to enhance

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understanding in the context of multinational military operations (see also Lewis, 2000).

Before proceeding to a discussion of leadership and command structures, it may be pertinent to discuss

some of the implications of network enabled operations (NEOps) or network centric warfare for the
leadership of intercultural, distributed military teams.5 According to the 2005 Canadian Forces (CF)
keystone document on NEOps, the objectives of NEOps are to improve the planning and execution of
operations through the use of information and communication technology linking people, processes, and ad
hoc networks (Department of National Defence, 2005). Such operations are intended to allow joint,
interagency, multinational and public stakeholders, as appropriate, to access information and data
seamlessly, from a wide range of sources, in order to facilitate effective and timely interaction between
sensors, leaders and effects. The results should be an expanded awareness and comprehension of the
environment (situational awareness), improved access to timely, relevant information, improved reaction
time and synchronization of activity, and improved ability to act. Further, through a clear understanding of
the commander’s intent and the operational picture, leaders, including those at subordinate levels, will be
able and expected through NEOps to exercise increased initiative, thus enabling a greater degree of mission
command to take place. Furthermore, according to the CF keystone document, NEOps will enhance the
ability to work effectively with allies, coalition participants and a range of governmental and non-
governmental defence and security partners to achieve a common goal, with due consideration for any legal,
jurisdictional, or proprietary constraints (Department of National Defence, 2005). Thus, NEOps is expected
to increase interoperability. NEOps may also be viewed as the means by which the effects desired by a
commander (i.e., effects based operations) are most successfully achieved. However, as discussed
previously, not all nations are equally comfortable with the notion of mission command or the decentralized
power/authority (low power distance orientation) that is permitted by NEOps, and not all nations are equally
technologically equipped (or “net ready”) for NEOps in the first place (see also Masakowski, Chapter 7).
Further, effective NEOps require a high degree of trust between partners (e.g., in order to share
information), and this will place unique demands on the skills of leaders and commanders in order to
engender such trust without the benefit of direct personal contact. Indeed, NEOps will require the shaping
of culture to realize greater information sharing and collaboration, higher levels of trust, and greater
devolution of authority. In short, NEOps is fundamentally a human endeavor, not simply a technological
practice, in which intercultural factors and awareness play a critical role. It is likely that training, as well as
strong leadership, will be required to build trust and confidence between nations that may have to
collaborate on a distributed and temporary basis within the context of NEOps.

3.4 LEADERSHIP OR COMMAND STRUCTURES

3.4.1 Types of Command Structures

It is widely accepted that the most important principle for international coalition effectiveness is a
defined and viable command and control structure (MacIsaac, 2000). The command structure will
determine who is in charge, and the command authority will determine the authority that the commander
will have over the force (Lescoutre, 2003). However, the issue of command structure may be especially
contentious and complicated within the context of an intercultural, multinational military operation
(Bowman, 1997; Lescoutre, 2003). As Gillespie (2002) points out, the national interests of forces involved
in a multinational operation may lead to potential conflicts. Alliances can deal with these issues by
established command and control structures that take into account differences in national procedures
(Gillespie, 2002). These structures have personnel from each of the alliance members, who become integral
to the command and planning process in both operational and logistical billets, and this integration, along
with addressing potential problems early on, creates a sense of trust amongst the participants (Gillespie,

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2002). In short-term coalition efforts, however, commanders will typically not have the same luxury, as
time will be a factor, and leadership must be based on trust, persuasion, and sensitivity to national needs
(Gillespie, 2002).

Whatever the command structure, multi-nationality poses a number of challenges, the resolution of

which is critical to military effectiveness and operational success. These challenges include the formation
of an effective command and control system, an intelligence system that can employ data from a number
of multinational and national sources, and a logistics system that takes into account the need for national
support but also multinational needs. The coalition commander must be responsible for coordinating all
military infrastructure within the theater of operations, and the presence of civilian groups,
nongovernmental organizations, and private voluntary organizations will make the coordination
requirements even greater (Bowman, 1997). All things considered, multinational command requires an
attitude of mind that is international in perspective (UK Doctrine for Joint and Multinational Operations,
1999).

The structure of command within multinational military operations may take a number of forms.

Current doctrine generally recognizes three main types of coalition command structures: lead nation
command, parallel command, and integrated command (Durell-Young, 1997; see also Lescoutre, 2003; and
Overton, 2003). As Lescoutre (2003) suggests, the commander of a multinational military force must
choose a command structure that will maximize the potential to command and provide for unity of effort
or purpose throughout the coalition. However, current doctrine does not offer any guidance to a force
commander as to which command structure may be preferable in any given coalition situation (Lescoutre,
2003). Durell-Young (1997) has identified three characteristics that should be considered when selecting a
command structure (see also Lescoutre, 2003). First, the commander must be cognizant of the political
dimension that influences the coalition dynamic, and must thoroughly understand the political objectives
to be achieved, in order to select the optimum command structure (Lescoutre, 2003). Second, if a coalition
must intervene rapidly into a conflict, then a strong lead nation command structure is recommended
(Lescoutre, 2003). This lead nation should be regionally based and maintain its existing integrated
headquarters (Lescoutre, 2003). Third, if there is a vast diversity of cultures involved in the coalition, then
a parallel command structure should be selected (Lescoutre, 2003). A strong spirit of cooperation and
mutual support between the multinational commanders must accompany a parallel command structure (see
Durell-Young, 1997; Lescoutre, 2003; cf. Bowman, 1997).

3.4.2 Command Structures in Action: Case Histories

Lescoutre (2003) illustrates considerations for selecting a command structure in the context of

four coalition operations: the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War, and the UN
International Force in East Timor (INTERFET). These examples or case histories are detailed in the
paragraphs below.

3.4.2.1 Lead Nation Command

As Lescoutre (2003) explains, the lead nation command structure is present when one of the nations in

a multinational coalition has the acknowledged and explicit lead role. This role normally includes the
position of multinational force commander and the domination of the command and control element in the
headquarters. In most cases, the lead nation has the largest force in the operation; further, all other national
elements in the coalition are subordinate to the lead nation with some specific conditions over the use and
control of their forces. Depending on the size and duration of the operation, the force commander will
integrate, within his/her headquarters, a number of coalition member representatives based on each nation’s

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contribution. This integration of the headquarters also provides smaller coalition members with the feeling
that they are playing a role in the leadership of the mission. However, the greater the contribution that a
nation makes to the coalition operation, the greater the role that a nation will have in the decision-making
process. The UN sponsored operations in Korea (in which the US took the lead) and in East Timor (in
which Australia was the lead nation) are two examples of a lead nation command structure in coalition
operations (Lescoutre, 2003; Wheatley & Buck, 1999). As will be seen below, even where there is a lead
nation command structure, lead nations depend on the support from liaison teams or coalition operating
regions in order to achieve mission success. Further, lead nations must respect the culture and traditions of
subordinate nations, or problems may arise.

In the Korean War, there were significant cultural and language differences between the Republic of

Korea (ROK) and the Eighth US Army (EUSA). Differing religious customs, the importance of “saving
face,” and the limited number of translators in the Hangul language, as well as the lack of modern technical
terms within this language, were difficult challenges (Wheatley & Buck, 1999). To facilitate joint
operations, a liaison corps (i.e., the US Military Advisory Corp, or KMAG) was established between the
EUSA and ROK units. The KMAG’s main responsibilities were to maintain a liaison between the ROK
Army and the EUSA and to assist the ROK Army by providing guidance and suggestions relating to US
actions and intentions. As the liaison, the KMAG Headquarters was co-located within the ROK Army
Headquarters. Since the KMAG advisors were also assigned to ROK units, they were able to provide
information regarding the activities and status of these units to EUSA. Despite problems within the KMAG,
including not having enough advisors and equipment, the KMAG helped to overcome language and cultural
differences between the coalition partners (Wheatley & Buck, 1999).

In East Timor (Operation Stabilize), in which Australia, the largest contributing nation, was the lead

nation, more than 20 culturally diverse countries participated (Lescoutre, 2003). However, the cultural
diversity of the coalition members did not impact negatively on the success of the mission. Lescoutre (2003)
attributes this success to two main factors. First, since the Australian Defence Forces were already
structured to operate in the region, most of the coalition members were regionally based. Second, the theater
commander (General Peter Cosgrove) of the INTERFET made every attempt to meet the goals and concerns
of the troop contributing nations (Lescoutre, 2003; see also Ballard, 2001). In fact, INTERFET built upon
the strong relationships that existed among the Australian, New Zealand, UK, and American elements of
the coalition. This trust made for fluid communication among the English speaking members of the
coalition (Australia, New Zealand, the UK, Canada, and the US). Significantly, it was among these nations,
which shared a common language and similar culture, where most of the communication occurred within
the coalition (Ballard, 2001). Further, within the INTERFET staff, Thailand’s General Songkitti
Jaggabatara served as both a national command element commander and General Cosgrove’s deputy. This
assignment was designed as a contribution to coalition cohesiveness, and although the complexity of both
roles did not always coalesce, the effort was successful. The key issue was the method of ensuring
centralized control of the entire coalition while facilitating the execution of assigned tasks by national
elements using their own doctrines and procedures. General Cosgrove alleviated this problem by employing
coalition operating regions (Ballard, 2001).

3. Parallel Command

The second type of command structure is the parallel command model, in which two or more
multinational headquarters exist with their respective subordinated coalition forces, but no single force
commander is designated (Lescoutre, 2003). The member nations retain control of their own forces, and
command responsibilities are shared (Lescoutre, 2003). The parallel multinational headquarters achieve
unity of effort through the formation of a 24-hour Coalition Coordination, Communications, and Integration

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Center (C3IC) (Lescoutre, 2003). The functions of the center are to coordinate the various activities between
the multinational headquarters; to communicate and disseminate the various orders and transmissions
(including translation from one language to another); to act as the focal point for force sustainment, host
nation support and movement control; and to integrate the coalition forces in terms of doctrine, training,
and strategies (Lescoutre, 2003). Staff elements from each coalition member are represented in the C3IC
003).

A recent example of parallel command structure is the coalition operation in the Persian Gulf War

(Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm), in which Western coalition forces came under the control of a US
force commander (General Schwarzkopf), and the Arab and Muslim coalition forces came under the control
of a Saudi force commander (General Khaled Bin Sultan) (Lescoutre, 2003). In Operation Desert Storm,
coalition effectiveness was an early priority and the military commanders understood that a structure
had to be developed that incorporated each national contribution in a way that maximized its effectiveness
and minimized its limitations (Ballard, 2001). Both force commanders recognized the diversity of the
cultures involved in the coalition and judiciously selected a parallel command structure for their respective
multinational operations (Lescoutre, 2003). As suggested above, the spirit of cooperation and mutual
support between the two multinational headquarters was due in large part to the existence of the
coordination center – the C3IC – which facilitated the combined planning process and improved the
everyday integration of coalition operations (Lescoutre, 2003). Although the C3IC cell did not have
command authority or a direct role in the campaign planning process, it was particularly efficient at
integrating the efforts of the two major partners (or “lead nations”)9 in the coalition into a unity of effort,
through the assignment of missions that were consistent with political restrictions, military requirements,
and force capabilities (Barabé, 1999). Without usurping the power of the two multinational headquarters,
the C3IC provided the linkage that contributed to the success of the coalition, and proved critical to the
success of Operation Desert Storm (Lescoutre, 2003)