Operation VERBAL IMAGE

**Scene:**A troubled corner of the globe, sometime in the near future.The Marine expeditionary force prepares for an upcoming offensive.

**2248 Monday:**Maj John Gustafson had taken over as the regimentalintelligence officer just in time for Operation VERBAL IMAGE. *Who thinksup the names for these operations anyway?* he wondered. This would behis first command briefing and he wanted to make a good impression. Thecolonel had a reputation for being a tough, no-nonsense boss�and the bestregimental commander in the division. Gustafson would be thorough and by-the-numbers.He would have all the pertinent reports on hand, pages of printouts containingany piece of data the regimental commander could possibly want. He wentover his briefing in his mind as he walked with his stack of reports throughthe driving rain to the command tent. 

The colonel arrived, just back from visiting his forward battalionsand soaking wet, and said, �All right, let�s get started. S-2, you�re up.�Gustafson cleared his throat and began. He had barely gotten through theexpected precipitation when the colonel held up his hand as a signal tostop. Gustafson noticed the other staff officers smiling knowingly. 

�Listen, S-2,� the colonel said, �I don�t care about how many inchesof rainfall to expect. I don�t care about the percentage of lunar illumination.I don�t want lots of facts and figures. Number one, I don�t have time,and number two, they don�t do me any good. What I need is to know whatit all *means*. Can the Cobras fly in this stuff or not? Will my tanksget bogged down in this mud? Don�t read me lists of enemy spottings; tellme what the enemy�s up to. Get inside his head. You don�t have to impressme with how much data you can collect; I know you�re a smart guy, S-2.But I don�t deal in data; I deal in pictures. Paint me a picture, got it?�

�Don�t worry about it, major,� the regimental executive officer saidlater, clapping a hand on Gustafson�s shoulder. �We�ve all been throughit.� 

**0615 Tuesday:**The operation was getting underway. In his battalioncommand post, LtCol Dan Hewson observed with satisfaction as his unitsmoved out toward their appointed objectives. He watched the progress onthe computer screen before him. Depicted on the 19-inch flat screen wasa color map of the battalion zone of action. The map was covered with luminous-greenunit symbols, each representing a rifle platoon or smaller unit. If a unitwas stationary, the symbol remained illuminated; when the unit changedlocation by a hundred meters, the symbol flashed momentarily. 

Hewson tapped on a unit symbol on the touch screen with his finger,and the unit designator and latest strength report came up on the screen.Alpha Company; they should be moving by now. 

�Get on the hook and find out what Alpha�s problem is,� Hewson barked.�Tell them to get moving.� 

With rapid ease he �zoomed� down in scale from 1:100,000 to 1:25,000and centered the screen on Bravo Company�s zone. Hewson prided himselfon his computer literacy; *no lance corporal computer operator necessaryfor this old battalion commander*, he mused. Hewson was always amazedat the quality of detail on the map at that scale; it was practically asif he were there. That was the old squad leader in him coming out. He tappedon the symbol of Bravo�s second platoon as it inched north on the screen.

*No, they should turn right at that draw, he said to himself. Thatdraw�s a perfect avenue of approach. Where the hell are they going? Don�tthey teach terrain appreciation anymore at The Basic School?*

�Get Bravo on the line,� he barked. �Tell them I want second platoonto turn right and head northeast up that draw. *Now*. And tell themfirst platoon needs to move up about 200 yards; they�re out of alignment.�

Satisfied that everything was under control in Bravo�s zone, Hewsonscrolled over to check on Charlie Company. Back when he was a young corporal,some 22 years ago, this technology didn�t exist. It was amazing how mucheasier command and control was today compared to his old squad leader days,how much more control there was now. He wondered if the junior Marinesrealized just how lucky they were.

**0622 Tuesday:**Second Lieutenant Rick Connors was feeling anythingbut lucky. Just past the mouth of a draw, he angrily signaled for secondplatoon to halt. Company was on the radio, barking about something. Hewas wet, he was cold; his rain top had somehow sprung a leak, and a streamof icy water poured down his spine. And on top of everything else, nowthis. 

"Come again?� he said to his radio operator. 

�Sir, Hotel-3-Mike says we�re supposed to turn right and head up thisdraw,� LCpl Baker repeated. 

*Damn* PLRS, Connors cursed to himself. He had never actually seena PLRS, that venerable piece of equipment having been replaced by a newer,lighter generation of position-locating system which attached to any fieldradio and sent an updated position report every time the transmit buttonwas cued. But like all the more experienced Marines, he insisted on callingthe new equipment by the old name. 

�Up that draw,� Connors repeated, as if to convince himself he had heardcorrectly. 

�Hotel-3-Mike says it�s an excellent avenue of approach, sir,� Bakerreported dutifully. 

Connors studied the impenetrable web of thorny, interlocking undergrowthin the draw and snorted scornfully. *Maybe on somebody�s computer screenit is*, he thought. *But on the ground it�s not. Somebody at battalionmust have his map on 1:25,000 again. So much for the decentralized missioncontrol they told us about at TBS. What do they even need lieutenants forif they�re going to try to control us like puppets?* He despised theprospect of hacking his way through the thick brush of the draw, especiallywhen first squad had spotted what looked like an excellent concealed avenueof approach not 200 yards ahead. Of course, if he followed instructions,higher headquarters would be squawking about his slow rate of advance�therewere no thickets of pricker bushes on a computer map. He could just imaginethe radio message: �*What�s taking you so long, 3-Mike-2? It�s only aninch on the map*.� And if he chose the other route they�d be on himin no time about disobeying orders. He cursed the PLRS again. But thenhe decided it wasn�t the PLRS that was the problem; it was the way it wasbeing used.

**1118 Tuesday:**A section of SuperCobra IIIs churned through thedriving rain on its way back to the abandoned high school campus that servedas an expeditionary airfield, returning from an uneventful scouting mission.

�I�ll tell you what, skipper,� 1stLt Howard Coble said from the frontseat of the lead helicopter, �this soup isn�t getting any better.� 

In fact, it was getting considerably worse, Capt Jim Knutsen decidedas he piloted the buffeting attack helicopter. A squall was moving backin. Goo at 500 feet, visibility down inside a mile and worsening. 

�I�m glad I�m not those poor bastards,� Coble said, indicating a mechanizedcolumn on the muddy trail below them to starboard. 

�You got that right,� Knutsen said, not paying much attention. 

Until Coble cursed sharply. 

�Those aren�t ours,� Coble said. �Take a look, skipper. BMPs, T-80s.�

Coble was dead right. What they were looking at was an enemy mechanizedcolumn, Knutsen guessed, of at least battalion strength. Probably more.His first instinct was to make a run at the column, but his intuition toldhim otherwise. Something was not right. Knutsen banked the Cobra away sharplyto avoid detection, and his wingman followed. 

*What�s wrong with this picture*? Knutsen said to himself. Themission briefing had said nothing about enemy mechanized forces anywherenear this vicinity. The enemy had apparently used the cover of the badweather to move a sizable force undetected through a supposed �no-go� areainto the division�s zone. Knutsen was familiar enough with the ground schemeof maneuver to know instantly that this unexpected presence posed a seriousthreat to the upcoming operation. We got ourselves a major problem. Theseguys are not supposed to be here. 

His wingman�s voice crackled over the radio: �Pikeman, did you see whatI just saw at two o�clock?� 

�Roger, Sylvester.� 

�We need to let DASC know about this,� Coble said on the intercom. 

Knutsen considered the problem. Reporting the sighting to the directair support center would, of course, be the standard course. But becauseof the weather, they�d had trouble talking to the DASC all day; they couldn�tget high enough to get a straight shot. In these conditions, he figuredthey were nearly a half hour from the field. And when he finally got themessage through, he could imagine the path the information would take fromthe DASC before it reached the units at the front�and that was providedthey even believed such an unlikely report. *DASC hell, we need to tellthe guys on the ground, he thought. They might like to know about an enemymech column driving straight through the middle of the MEF�s zone. Forgetnormal channels*. Unfortunately he had no call signs or frequenciesfor any of the local ground units. 

�Howie, find me some friendlies on the ground,� he said. He radioedhis wingman with his plan. 

�Got somebody, skipper,� Coble said shortly. �AAV in the tree line atnine o�clock. Got it?�

�Roger, I�m setting down.�

**1132 Tuesday:***You got to be crazy to be flying in this weather*,Capt Ed Takashima said to himself when he heard the sound of approachinghelicopter rotors. He was twice amazed to see the Cobra appear low overthe trees and settle into the clearing not a hundred yards away while itspartner circled overhead. He hopped down from his AAV and jogged out intothe clearing to meet the Marine emerging from the cockpit and was three-timesastonished to recognize him as an old Amphibious Warfare School classmate.

�Knut-case,� he said, pumping his friend�s hand enthusiastically. �Ishould have known nobody else would be crazy enough to fly in this stuff.What the hell are you doing here?� 

Knutsen quickly explained the situation and, when he was finished andsaw Takashima�s expression, said: �Don�t look at me like I�m crazy, Tak.�

Anybody else Takashima would have thought was crazy�or else completelylost�but not Knutsen. He had known Knutsen too long for that. Knutsen wastoo squared away. 

�Give me your map, I�ll show you,� Knutsen said. �We�re right here,right? And the enemy is right *there*, heading in this direction,�jabbing the map and tracing the enemy movement. 

As Knutsen had begun to diagram the enemy move, Takashima was alreadyconsidering the situation. *With all the sensors and satellites and reconnaissanceassets that support a MEF*, Takashima wondered, *how does an enemymechanized battalion drive through the middle of our sector without beingdetected*? He remembered reading something somewhere about uncertaintybeing a pervasive attribute of war. *Chalk one up to Clausewitz�s �fogof war,�* Takashima decided. Of course, Takashima knew, since it wasa �no-go� area�and that meant that somebody up the chain had looked atthe terrain and decided it was impassable�it would remain relatively unobserved.But how it had happened didn�t matter: it had happened. What to do aboutit? That was the problem. *Six or seven clicks, tops*, he thought,looking at the map. Not much time. This changed everything. The originalbattalion plan would have to be scrapped; it was as simple as that. Takashimarecognized that his original mission was overcome by events. He made hisdecision. The situation called for quick thinking, and quicker action.The objectives might change, but the overall aim remained the same. Theultimate object, Takashima knew, was to locate the main enemy force andattack to destroy it. That could still be the object; it would just haveto happen a lot farther south than had been planned. If the battalion couldmake a 90-degree left turn in time, they might just pull it off. Now ifhe could just get battalion to go along with it . . . . he needed to talkto the battalion commander. 

Knutsen had finished tracing the enemy movement, and his finger restedon the map, pointing at a small town called Culverin Crossroads. �That�sit then,� Takashima said. �Culverin Crossroads.� 

�I hear you, Tak,� Knutsen said. �You�re thinking of that West Africamap ex we did last year at AWS, aren�t you? The one where we wheeled thewhole regiment and took the red force in the flank.� 

�Yeah, that�s the one,� Takashima said. 

�What the hell; let�s do it. I got enough fuel for maybe one pass. Youwant me to work them over, or don�t you want them to know that we�re onto them?� 

�Let�s wait and surprise them. Can you bring back some friends?� 

*What a kick*, Knutsen thought. *A couple of captains standingin the middle of a muddy field in a downpour working out the beginningsof a major operation*. It reminded him of playing pick-up football asa kid and drawing improvised plays in the dirt. 

�We�ll be here,� he said with a grin. �You�ll recognize me�I�ll be theone in front.� �See you then, Knut-case,� Takashima said. 

They shook hands, and Knutsen climbed back into the cockpit. 

�Olsen!� Takashima bellowed at his radioman. �Try to get me battalion.I need to talk to the colonel direct.�

**1310 Tuesday:**�General, the latest weather pictures are comingin,� the lance corporal reported, the note of anxiousness unmistakablein his voice. 

MajGen Harry Vanderwood doubted if there was a single Marine anywherein the wing who did not recognize the significance that attached to thelatest forecasts. 

�I�ll be right there, Marine,� he replied. 

No sooner had Vanderwood arrived in the tactical air command centerthan the MEF commander bustled in unannounced as he had a disconcertinghabit of doing. You never knew when he was going to show up, or where,Vanderwood mused. Wing commander or mechanic on the flight line, you werenever safe. 

�Have you gotten the latest on the situation, Harry?� the MEF commanderasked. 

�As of the last 15 minutes, general,� Vanderwood replied. �Not thatI�m any smarter than I was before. I�d still like to know what the hellis going on.� 

�That makes two of us. I�d like to talk to those Cobra pilots myself.�

�It�s being arranged, general. They managed to take off on another sortiebefore we could grab them. Under terrible conditions, I might add. Whenthey get back, I�m either going to give them a medal or a butt-chewing;probably both.� 

The MEF commander grunted. �How�s the weather looking?� he asked. 

�We�re just in the process of pulling down the latest pictures fromthe weather satellite,� Vanderwood said. 

A large-scale map of the area of operations appeared on the large screen,color-coded to illustrate the precipitation fore- cast. 

�No good news there,� Vanderwood said. �Let�s take a look at the incomingweather.� 

A broader map, much like a weather map on a television newscast, appearedon the screen. Heavy white blotches swept sputteringly across the screenfrom left to right. 

�Freeze it right there,� Vanderwood said, and the image stopped moving.�Good. That could be the break we�re looking for. I figure in about 90minutes we�ll be able to get something going. If this pattern holds, Iplan to blot out the sun�what little sun there might be�with aircraft by1500. Now all we need is to know what we�re going to be attacking.� 

�How about cueing up the MEF situation package, and we�ll see if wecan�t make some sense of this,� the MEF commander said. �And see if wecan get General Bishop on teleconference.� 

�Somebody ask the Top to come over here,� Vanderwood said, meaning theintelligence chief. 

�General, the division commander�s away from the CP, but we�re settingup video with the chief of staff,� a Marine reported. 

�Very well,� the MEF commander said. He fully expected Bishop to beaway from the command post; in fact, the division command post was thelast place he�d expect to find the division commander in the middle ofa battle. 

The computer operator, Cpl Beale Davis, tapped quickly on his keyboard,and the wall-sized screen blinked, the weather map replaced by a situationmap of the MEF�s area of operations. From the menu across the top of thescreen, he opened a �conference� window, and the division chief of staffappeared in a live video feed. 

�How are you, Tom?� the MEF commander said. 

�Hanging in, general,� Col Tom Hester replied. �Sir, General Bishophas gone forward. Do you want him paged? If he�s at one of the regimentalCPs, we can get him on video too.�

�No, that�s all right. We�re just going to try to piece this picturetogether, and I want everybody to share the same image. Are you lookingat the same thing we are?� 

�Yessir, he is,� Davis said, meaning that the screen in the divisioncommand post would depict the same information and images that were beingcalled up on the wing situation map. 

Davis had logged into the theater data base and could �pull down� almostinstantaneously any individual piece of data, or complete or partial packageof information, that had been entered into the system anytime, anywhere,by any means. He had access to text, imagery, and live or prerecorded videoand audio, which he could call up by opening additional windows on thescreen. Through the theater data base, he had access to State Departmentreports, Defense Intelligence Agency summaries, Central Intelligence Agencyaccounts, and National Imagery and Mapping Agency charts. Likewise, hecould call up the latest tactical reports and analyses by a variety ofcategories�time, unit, contents, location, reliability�and could specifythe level of information resolution� �granularity,� they called it. Anytime he asked for tactical reports over a period of time, the softwarewould automatically �crunch out� a trend analysis, both in picture andbullet form. With a little manipulation, he could get direct feeds fromsatellites or aerial reconnaissance drones. (This procedure was not taughtin the classroom; it was an unauthorized �back door� gateway, but nobodycomplained when Davis pulled it off.) Perhaps most important of all, hecould access the Cable News Network for the latest-breaking developments.There was no lack of information out there, Davis knew. You were beingbombarded by it. Any yahoo could access a near-endless flow of impressivedata. The trick to being a good computer operator was being able to siftthrough it all to access the right information in the right form at theright time so the old man could figure out what it meant. 

In an effort to make some sense of the enemy situation, they pulleddown various �packages� of information, mostly in picture form, which promptlyappeared and disappeared on the screen at Davis� command. Enemy armor spottingswithin the last 48, 24, and 12 hours. All ground contacts reported in thelast 48 and 24 hours. All enemy artillery units spotted and fire missionsreported in the last 48 hours. Road and rail usage in the last 72 hours.Sightings of enemy mobile air defense equipment, usually a good indicatorof the disposition of the main body, in the last 48 and 24 hours. Enemyradio traffic in the last week. Enemy aviation activity in the last 2 days.Every once in a while the MEF commander would ask for a �template,� a computer-generatedestimate of possible enemy dispositions and movements based on the partialinformation that was available. Each template automatically came with areliability estimate��resolution,� they called it�calculated as a percentageof complete reliability. The best resolution they had gotten for any onetemplate was 45 percent; most were in the twenties and thirties. Statisticallynot very good�but certainly as good as could be expected. 

Another set of red enemy symbols flashed on the screen. 

�What the hell,� the MEF commander said, looking at the screen whichindicated a heavy flow of enemy helicopter traffic along a single route.*A major heliborne operation? In this weather? As if things aren�t stickyenough. And why is this the first I�m hearing of it?* �You�re tellingme the enemy�s been flying fleets of helicopters continuously the last6 hours?� 

Vanderwood looked to MSgt Edgar Tomlinson, the intelligence chief. 

�No, general,� Tomlinson said. �He�s not flying anything. What you�reseeing on the screen, believe it or not, is actually a row of power lines.We checked it out. Radiating and blowing in this wind, our sensors pickedthem up as helicopters.� 

�You�re kidding me, Top,� the MEF commander said skeptically. �Our sensorsthink a set of power lines is a bunch of helicopters?� 

�I guarantee it, general,� Tomlinson said. �If you want to call up anaerial photo, I can show you the power lines.� 

�No, I believe you, Top.� 

�I�ve seen it happen before,� Tomlinson said. �This gear is great, aslong as you don�t trick yourself into thinking that it�s actually smart.�

Despite an aggregate resolution of under 25 percent, Van- derwood sensedthat a possible pattern had slowly begun to develop, but hardly anythingconclusive. A possibility. A hunch. A little better than a wild guess.Despite the admittedly amazing technology, you could never be certain ofanything, Vanderwood knew. Despite the artificial intelligence, the decisionaids, the computer analysis. As long as war re- mained a clash of humanwills, Vanderwood mused, no mat- ter how much technology you had, it stillboiled down in the end to intuition and judgment. 

�General, the division commander�s coming in on video link,� a Marineinterrupted. 

A window opened on the wall screen, and MajGen Miles Bishop appeared,apparently from inside a command AAV somewhere on the battlefield, thetrademark cigar stub clamped in his teeth. 

�Hey, can anybody hear me?� he was saying gruffly over the backgroundnoise in the AAV. �Is this blasted thing on?� 

�Bish, this is Vanderwood with the MEF commander,� the wing commandersaid. �You�re coming in fine on this end.� 

�The video whatzit thing is on the blink on this end, but I can hearyou okay,� Bishop replied. 

�Glad you could spare a few minutes out of your busy schedule,� theMEF commander said. �We�ve been trying to figure out what the hell�s beengoing on. We�ve been running some software for the last half hour, andwe think we might have something.� 

�You want to know what the hell�s going on, general?� Bishop said. �Hell,I can tell you what�s going on.� 

�Okay, let us have it,� the MEF commander said, and Bishop proceededto describe in his own colorful but accurate way the same situation thathad begun to take shape, with much less clarity, on the wall screen ofthe TACC. Vanderwood and the MEF commander exchanged glances. *Bishop*,Vanderwood mused, shaking his head. *What a piece of work. Glad he�son my team.*

�How did you come by that, Bish?� the MEF commander asked. 

�Me and a couple of the boys sitting around a heat tab making some coffeejust swagged it,� Bishop said with a lopsided grin. �Ever-lovin� coop daoil�isn�t that what you�re always calling it, Harry?�

�*Coup d�oeil*, Bish,� Vanderwood pronounced�referring to the Frenchterm which described the ability of gifted commanders to peer through the�fog of war� and intuitively grasp what was happening on the battlefield.

�Yeah, whatever,� Bishop snorted. 

Vanderwood grinned at Bishop�s famous good-old-boy routine. Outsidethe circle of general officers, few Marines knew that French was one ofthe four foreign languages that Bishop spoke like a native. 

�As long as he�s got it,� the MEF commander said, �let him pronounceit however he likes.� 

**1428 Tuesday:**Capt Takashima heard the unmistakable sound ofthe ATGMs firing off in unison like a naval broadside. The doctrinal manualscalled it �massed, surprise fires.� Takashima called it �a world of hurtfor the bad guys.� *Damn if those bastards didn�t walk right into it*,he thought as he scampered forward to get a better look at the situationat the crossroads where first platoon had just sprung an ambush on theleading elements of the enemy column. *I owe Knutsen a beer when thisis all over*. He couldn�t explain how he knew, but just from the soundof things he could tell that first platoon had caught them pretty good.Amazing how you learned to sense these things. The ground nearby eruptedin a massive explosion, and he hit the deck�or rather, the 6 inches ofwater that covered the deck. 

�Olsen, you all right?� he yelled after checking to make sure he wasstill in one piece. 

�Yessir,� his radioman replied. �Captain, third platoon wants to talkto you.� 

Second Lieutenant Tim Dandridge, Golf Company�s least experienced platooncommander, was several hundred yards off to the right. Takashima had originallyput third platoon where he could keep his eye on Dandridge, but when he�dspun the company, it had left third platoon off on the right flank by itself.Takashima switched on his headset. 

�Oscar-3, this is Romeo-2-Oscar, go.� 

�Romeo-2-Oscar, I�ve got mechanized activity to my front and more activitymoving through the woods around my right flank, over,� Dandridge reported.

Even over the radio Takashima could sense the nervousness in the lieutenant�svoice. 

�Echo�s on your right flank,� Takashima said. �Roger, Romeo-2-Oscar,I don�t think it�s Echo,� came the reply. �I�m not picking them up on PLRS.�

Takashima checked his electronic map board, networked to Olsen�s radio,which in addition to his own eight-digit location could show the locationof friendly transmitters. He punched in a request for the location of alltransmitters of platoon level or higher. Dandridge was right: no Echo Companyunits. Which meant one of two things: either Echo was so badly lost theyweren�t even on the map, or somebody had keyed the wrong code into allof Echo�s transmitters. 

�Have you made contact with Echo?� Takashima asked. 

�Negative. Can�t raise them.� 

�Any visual with the enemy?� 

�Negative, but they�re definitely out there,� Dandridge said. �Estimateat least a company.� 

�Roger, are you in position yet?� Third platoon should have been wellset in by now, ready to ambush the advancing enemy forces. 

There was a pause. �Er, roger . . . pretty much, Romeo-2-Oscar,� camethe halting reply. 

Which meant �No,� Takashima knew. Good news got passed without hesitation;bad news always seemed to move more reluctantly. Not a good sign. For asecond, he considered heading over to third platoon�s position to checkthings out, but he quickly dismissed the idea. His intuition still toldhim the critical action was taking place in front of him at first platoon�sposition. Events were still unfolding as expected, thanks to Knut-case.This was where he needed to be. Chances were that the young lieutenantwas exaggerating; but yet, if Dandridge was right, then Takashima had readthings wrong, and the enemy had other ideas in mind. You could never counton the bastards doing what they were supposed to. 

�Gunny!� Takashima bellowed over the sound of the shelling. 

A moment later GySgt Roberto Hernandez splashed down beside him. 

�Gunny, third platoon is reporting enemy activity to their front andflank,� Takashima began. 

�Roger that, skipper,� Hernandez said. �I was listening in.� 

*Naturally*, Takashima thought. Nothing the gunny did surprisedhim anymore. 

�I�m concerned about what�s going on over there,� Takashima said. �ButI don�t have time to check it out myself. That activity they reported mightor might not be Echo Company. Gunny, I want you to hustle over there, havea look around, and report back to me what you see. Use an alternate net.If it�s real trouble, I need to know in a hurry. Don�t step on any toes,but you might want to make a few tactful suggestions if it�s appropriate.�

�You want me to be, sir, what is sometimes referred to in the literatureas a �directed telescope,� � Hernandez said. 

�Directed tele-what? Get outta here, gunny,� Takashima said with a grin.

Sometimes it was a pain having the best-read staff NCO in the MarineCorps as a company gunny, he decided as he watched Hernandez charge away.But not usually.

**1455, Tuesday:**�Any questions?� 

*Any questions*? Col Perry Gorman, the division G-3, wondered incredulously.*Where should I start*? 

MajGen Bishop had just spent the last half hour orienting his staffto the new situation. He stood in front of the large electronic mapboardin the musty tent which housed the division�s future ops section. The mapwas crisscrossed with the broad arrows and symbols he had been drawingwith the stylus while he talked. Every once in a while Bishop would callfor an estimate or opinion, or one of his staff would ask a question, makea recommendation, or take the stylus to sketch on the map. An energeticdiscussion would usually ensue and Bishop would let this go on for a fewminutes, listening to the arguments for and against and benignly chewingon his cigar while the members of his staff had their say; then he wouldsuddenly shut the discussion off and announce his position. Sometimes Bishopfollowed the advice of his staff; sometimes, Gorman was convinced, thegeneral had already made his decision but wanted to make sure his peoplefelt that they had had the opportunity to participate. It was truly aneducation watching Bishop work his staff, Gorman decided. It was a fluidand idiosyncratic process, reflective of Bishop�s own personality. Neverexactly the same twice and yet very effective. Anybody who thought staffplanning was a mechanical process had never been around MajGen Miles Bishop.

There was an old military saying, attributed to the Prussian Field MarshalMoltke, that no plan survives contact with the enemy. In a short periodof time by merely modifying an existing branch plan, Bishop quickly reorientedthe efforts of the division to meet the new situation. Gorman�s first thoughtwas for the wasted effort; but he quickly realized the effort had not beenwasted at all: it had been a valuable learning process which had resultedin an improved situational aware- ness that was shared by Bishop, the entirestaff, and subordinate commanders. 

A feeling had engulfed the command post that through previous good planningand adaptability the division had turned a potential crisis into a decisiveopportunity. Of course, Gorman mused, an awful lot of things had to happento make adaptability during execution possible. I*t�s amazing how muchpreparation is required to provide flexibility in execution*. A divisioncontained an awful lot of independent parts that needed to be working towardthe same goal. The intelligence collection plan would have to be reorientedto the new axis of advance, as would the fire support planning and thelogistics effort. Potential enemy countermoves would have to be considered,as well as possible ways to deal with them. *One good thing that doesn�thave to change is the commander�s intent and its end state*. The forcewould have to be reorganized to support the new taskings. Fragmentary orderswould have to be issued. Necessary coordination would have to be effectedabove, below, and laterally�especially with the wing since all the aviationsupport requirements had changed. The light armor battalion would haveto be redeployed to continue the counterreconnaissance battle. With TaskForce Hammer as well as all the forward units committed to the exploitation,a new reserve would have to be constituted somehow, but not immediately.Thought would have to be given to protecting the lengthening lines of communicationsas the pursuit continued. The general�s concept for a regimental helicopterborneattack into the enemy rear would have to be worked out�a major evolutionin itself (although most of the planning and coordination would be doneby the regiment). Landing zones and helicopter lanes would have to be reconnoitered,air defenses located and targeted for suppression . . . 

�Last chance,� Bishop was saying. �No saved rounds?� 

�You want this by when exactly, general?� a voice from the back of thetent asked. 

Laughter broke out, and Bishop smiled but did not bother to answer.The general�s obsession with tempo was legendary. 

�Look, people, don�t worry about trying to control every moving piecein this monster. It�s not gonna happen. I can tell you it�s gonna be chaosfor the next few days at least. Maybe longer. The battalions and regimentsare already starting to do what we need them to do, so let�s not try toovercontol this thing. I just want you to make sure that all the chaosand mayhem are flowing in the same general direction and that we keep itgoing. Coordinate what absolutely needs to be coordinated and don�t tryto coordinate what doesn�t. Keep this thing pointed straight, but let itgo. Remember, the sign of a good plan is that it gives you both directionand flexibility. 

�All right,� the general concluded, �I think everybody knows where westand and what needs to be done. Let�s get at it.� 

**1505 Tuesday:** If 2ndLt Connors had been unhappy before, he waspositively miserable now. He decided he felt about as useful as a mindlesspawn in some giant chess game, being moved around one square at a time.*Certainly don�t want to get too far ahead of ourselves, do we*?**The analogy was pretty appropriate, he thought. Too bad the chess playerwho was ordering him around showed every sign of being an indecisive beginnerwho seemed to be taking an awful lot of time between moves. 

What made things worse was that from the distant shelling and the radiotraffic he could tell that there was one heck of a battle going on. Andhe was missing it. Every time he radioed for instructions he�d get thesame reply��Wait out��and when the orders eventually arrived, it seemedthat he was always one step too late. Usually, he�d arrive just in timeto have to duck the tail end of somebody else�s fire mission. He mightjust as well have been wandering around the pine forests of beloved CampLejeune for all the action he was getting. Was that a red-cockaded woodpeckerhe just saw? 

He crawled to the edge of the vegetation and peered across the clearing.That was the objective, all right, some 300 yards away. Hill 124, now knownas Objective Rose after the company commander�s mother-in-law. He checkedhis watch; the prep fires were scheduled to commence at half past. He searchedthe hilltop carefully through his thermal binoculars and saw no sign whatsoeverof enemy activity. 

Of course, he didn�t know what he had expected to see. He�d been givenno information on the enemy situation on the objective, and he had no ideawhy he was attacking this hill in the first place. He certainly had noidea what made Hill 124 so important�other than that it was a convenientplace to draw a goose egg on some higher-up�s map. He was expected to attackand seize Objective Rose, commencing at 1530, and that was that. 

With his squad leaders, Connors crawled back to rejoin the platoon.

�Lieutenant, company wants to talk to you,� his radioman reported. 

Connors switched on his headset. 

�Hotel-3-Mike, this is 3-Mike-2,� he said. 

�3-Mike-2, are you ready yet?� 

*For about the tenth time*, Connors said to himself. *Keep yourshorts on; the attack doesn�t go for another 20 minutes*. 

�Roger that,� he replied out loud. �The objective is deserted.� 

�Roger. The prep fires commence at 1530, as scheduled, and last for5 mikes.� 

�I say again, the objective is deserted, Hotel-3-Mike,� Connors said.�We don�t need the prep fires; we can just walk up on the objective.� 

There was a pause. Connors could imagine the captain wrestling withthat one. He couldn�t blame the captain, really. Battalion wanted thingsdone a certain way. To change things now, Connors knew, would throw offthe timetable and would mean shutting off the scheduled fires�in short,it would dis- rupt the plan. And you certainly didn�t want to interferewith the plan, he knew�not in this battalion anyway. The plan was everything.All the elements of the battalion were supposed to attack in close synchronization,Connors knew� �synchronization� was LtCol Hewson�s favorite buzzword. Ofcourse, when Connors thought of synchronization he invariably thought ofsynchronized swimming, and he smiled at the ridiculous image of a coupleof swimmers pirouetting in graceful unison in a pool. He couldn�t imagineanything less like combat than that. *I might not have a world of experience,he thought, but how could anybody in his right mind think you could synchronizethe confusion and mayhem of any military operation*? It boggled themind. 

�Listen, the prep starts at 1530,� came the eventual reply over theradio, somewhat testily. �Just do it.� 

�Roger, out,� Connors said resignedly. *Three bags full*. 

Setting in the base of fire and getting the other two squads in positionfor the assault was the work of only a few minutes. Connors checked hiswatch: still only a quarter past. *Hope nobody falls asleep waiting*,he thought, abundantly aware of Marines� remarkable ability to doze offon a moment�s notice anytime, anyplace, in any conditions. Fifteen minuteslater, exactly on schedule, the preparation fires commenced and ended 5minutes later. Battalion would be pleased: the attack went flawlessly;there was no enemy resistance to screw it up. His two squads swept throughthe tall grass toward the hill and within minutes were consolidating onthe objective. There was no sign that the enemy had ever occupied the hill.Whether the enemy was anywhere in the vicinity he couldn�t tell: becauseof the tall grass, visibility was about 10 yards in any direction. No matter;they had accomplished the assigned task. 

�Lieutenant, company gunny wants our ammo and casualty report,� hisradioman said. 

Connors chuckled scornfully. *Seeing as there was nobody to shootat us and nobody for us to shoot at . . . . Now, Connors, you�re beinga malcontent again. Just go through the motions and don�t make waves*.

�I�ll take it,� he said, switching on his headset. �Hotel-3-Mike, thisis 3-Mike-2. No casualties; no ammo expended. Mission accomplished. Whatnext, over?� 

There was pause, then finally the reply came: �Wait out.�

**1635 Tuesday:**�Romeo-2-Oscar, this is 2-Oscar-3.� 

Capt Takashima recognized the gunny�s voice on the command alternatenet. He had been hearing the firefight coming from that direction for sometime now�he didn�t know how long: it could be 20 minutes, it could be 2hours�but he didn�t have time to think about it. He�d feel a lot betteronce he got the gunny�s opinion of the situation. 

�This is 2-Oscar, go,� Takashima said. 

�Confirm situation as described earlier by 2-Oscar-3,� Hernandez reported.�Engaged, situation well in hand. Echo was a little slow getting theiract together, but Oscar-3 saved their butts. Caught the enemy pretty good.�

�Have you made contact with Echo?� 

�Roger,� Hernandez said. �Have been attached.� 

�Say again,� Takashima said, confused. �2-Oscar-3 has been attachedto Alpha-7-Hotel.� 

*What the hell? Who the hell does Schuler think he is, taking it onhimself to attach one of my platoons to his company*? Takashima wasabout to cut loose with some choice words, but he thought better of it.He knew that he was in no posi- tion to try to control what third platoonwas doing; he was too busy dealing with the situation at the crossroads.Sometimes the enemy didn�t use the same boundaries that we did, Takashimarealized: third platoon was really part of Echo�s fight. That being thecase, Takashima knew that for the purposes of unity of command third platoonought to be answering to Schuler and not to him. It was hardly conventional,Takashima decided�certainly not the school solution�but, under the circumstances,it was the right thing to do. *I guess that�s what gunny would call a�self-organizing, complex adaptive system*,� Takashima mused. *I�lljust have to remember to give Schuler a hard time about needing four platoonsto do what we can do with only two*.

**0255 Wednesday:**The MEF commander shed his dripping poncho ashe stepped out of the rain into the MEF command post. The military policemansnapped to attention and saluted. 

�Carry on, Sgt McDavid. Cpl Cooper,� he said to his soaked driver, �getsome sleep. It�s been a long day.� 

He made his way into the operations center and dropped wearily intohis chair where he�d started the operation some 24 hours before. In thelast 24 hours, he�d been all over the MEF area of operations. He�d beento the division forward command post to talk to the division commanderface-to-face about how to deal with the unexpected developments. He�d insistedon a face-to-face because he wanted to make sure they understood each other.He�d been to the wing head- quarters twice to try to get a handle on theoverall situation and to see what could be done about air support. He�dpersonally debriefed the Cobra pilots who�d first spotted the enemy column.He�d videotaped a new intent statement�an �intent-o-mmercial,� as the Marinesjokingly referred to it�to be broadcast to the entire MEF (at least downto battalion and squadron level, the lowest level that had video capability).He and the wing commander had taken a terrifying V-22 flight over the battlefield(and unfortunately had gotten precious little out of it). He�d been backto the MEF command post once during the day to see if the situation hadgotten any clearer since he�d left: it hadn�t. He�d visited the division�smain-effort regiment and that regiment�s main-effort battalion near CulverinCrossroads. (It hadn�t been until he�d met that CO from Golf Company, CaptTaka-something, and had seen the indomitable fighting spirit of his Marinesthat he�d realized that the MEF would carry the day��Just get me some air,general,� the captain had said.) He�d visited the engineers to make surethat the roads were going to hold up for at least the next 72 hours inthis rain. He�d even spent several hours supervising an assault river crossingduring the critical early stages of the pursuit. And he�d happened uponthe FSSG commander at a maintenance contact point, of all places, wherethey�d watched an M1A3 main battle tank repaired and put back into action;they�d discussed the logistics needed to support the upcoming exploitation.

It seemed like days since he�d been at the command post. On the wallscreen before him, the amorphous wave of flashing green unit symbols hadcrept considerably farther north since the last time he had looked at themap. There were far more red enemy symbols now as well, most of them encircledin the lower left-hand part of the screen, an indication that the intelligenceeffort had managed to locate many of the enemy forces that had been unknownat the beginning of the operation. He knew that many of those units, althoughstill reflected on the map and still present on the ground, had ceasedto be effective fighting forces by now. He also knew that the clean imageportrayed on the screen could not begin to capture the brutal fightingand the destruction that he had witnessed during the day. That was thegreat danger of being stuck in a command post, he knew; you began to confusewhat was on a map with reality. 

Based on the tempo of activity in the operations center, he wonderedif the staff knew that the battle was all but won. In the next room, themajor and the two staff sergeants who made up the future plans cell wouldbe working feverishly on the plans for the next week to exploit the advantagethe MEF had won today. *The responsibility of command is never finished,*he decided; *always something else to be done*. Curiously, he thought,he found himself thinking back to his days as a brand-new lieutenant atThe Basic School, remembering the adage that had been drilled into them:�Camouflage is continuous.� *Command is continuous*, he found himselfthinking. *I�ll have to remember that one, he decided, for the next timeI�m invited to speak at a TBS mess night*. 

He thought of stopping in to see how things were going in the futureplans cell, but he knew his chief of staff would have things moving alongbriskly, and he would just be getting in the way. Even when the issue hadstill hung in the balance, Col Dick Westerby had been pushing the futureops guys to develop a plan for exploiting the outcome. Around the MEF commandelement, Westerby was known with a certain grudging admiration as �Yesterday,�because that was when he seemed to want everything done. �If it�s not donefast,� Westerby was fond of saying, �it�s not done right.� 

As if by cue, the small, balding colonel appeared, bearing a cup ofsteaming coffee. 

�You look like you could use this, general,� he said. 

�Thanks, Dick,� the MEF commander said. 

A staff sergeant appeared. �Here�s the new MEF op order, colonel,� hesaid, handing a flimsy document to Westerby. 

Westerby perused the two-page order which consisted of a page of textand a diagram, nodding as he read. 

�General, do you want to have a look at this?� he asked. 

�Hell, no. I couldn�t even focus my eyes on it. That�s what I�ve gotyou for. You know my intent.�

�Looks good, Staff Sergeant Walters,� Westerby said, initialing thedocument and returning it to the staff sergeant. �Let�s get it out 10 minutesago.� 

�Aye, aye, sir; it�ll go straight out on the secure fax,� Walters saidand quickly departed. 

The MEF commander sipped his coffee and gazed at the large situationscreen. 

�Well, what do you think, Dick?� he asked. 

�What do I think?� Westerby said. �I think we went in with an unclearpicture of the situation, and it only got worse. As is usually the case,the enemy tended not to cooperate. Weather precluded using the bulk ofour aviation and restricted the mobility of some of our vehicles. Our originalplan had to be quickly discarded and another put in its place. We had toadapt to a rapidly changing situation. Our previous planning efforts providedus with the flexibility and situational awareness to react to a changingsituation and provided flexibility to our subordinates. Thank goodnessfor staff officers, pilots, and subordinate commanders who exercise initiativeand quickly adapt to changing situations.� 

�Yes,� the general said with obvious satisfaction, �don�t you love itwhen the system works to perfection?� 

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