Transforming the 

Structure of the Military 

Combat Decisions—Rank, 

Responsibility, or Frontline Position? 

Case Studies in National Security Transformation 

Number 4 

Bing West 

December 2006 

Sponsored by the Office of the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense 

Forces Transformation and Resources 

Prepared by the Center for Technology and National Security Policy 
The views expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not reflect the official 

policy or position of the National Defense University, the Department of Defense or the 

U.S. Government. All information and sources for this paper were drawn from 

unclassified materials. 

Bing West served as Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs in 

the Reagan administration. A graduate of Georgetown and Princeton Universities, he 

served in Marine infantry in Vietnam. His books have won the Marine Corps Heritage 

Prize and the Colby Award for Military History and have appeared on the Commandant's 

Reading List. West appears frequently on The News Hour and Fox News. He is a 

member of St. Crispin's Order of the Infantry and the Council on Foreign Relations. He 

lives in Newport, RI.

ii
Introduction

This case raises the questions of whether, in this day of advanced information networks, 

field grade military officers should be present at the scene of complex tactical battles and 

whether net-centric operations allow commanders to operate effectively from the front 

lines. Many have assumed that new information technologies lift the fog of war and 

therefore allow commanders to operate with clear vision from rear positions. This case 

examines the opposite postulate—that net-centric capabilities allow a commander to 

control operations and his own rear-based command staff from a forward-based position 

that enables him to watch the battle unfold firsthand. 

Specifically, in this case a battalion commander (lieutenant colonel) was on-scene when a 

suicide bomber smashed into a convoy. After the action, the staff in the combat 

operations center were convinced his presence had made a critical difference in the 

outcome. Is that an anomaly, or is it time to take a critical look at the relationship 

between rank and responsibilities on the 21st-century battlefield? 

The case is intended to facilitate discussion about the role of net-centric operations in 

combat and the impact that they might have on rank structure and associated 

responsibilities. The services differ markedly in what they expect officers of the same 

rank to do and where they should place themselves in battle. For instance, battalion 

commanders are expected to remain a good distance behind their companies when 

engaged. Squadron commanders of the same rank, however, lead their aircraft 

formations, while Navy commanders fight on their ships, making the most up-to-theminute decisions during combat. 

These differences are based on the technologies of World War II. Is it time now to 

recommend changes? Within the military, self-congratulations have swirled around the 

application of net-centricity on the battlefield. Today's troops are the most "wired" 

generation of warfighters the world has ever seen. Most dismounted infantrymen have 

handheld radios with an earplug and voice mike, and every Humvee has a PRC 119 or 

more advanced radio; connectivity from the point of contact to the battalion operations 

center is assured 99 percent of the time. Every battalion ops center is in contact with an 

air controller 24/7. Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) are on-call to hover over any 

engagement area, with clear video downlinks to the ops center. All records and most 

decisions in ops centers are digitally stored on dozens of interconnected laptops. The mug 

shot, finger prints, and retina scan of an insurgent captured on the battlefield are beamed 

a few hours later to a dozen intelligence agencies around the globe. Senior officers in 

Washington, Tampa, Qatar, and Baghdad are in constant touch with one another via 

secure televideo. 

Most of these technologies have accelerated their standard operating practices (SOPs), 

rather than transformed them. Infantry operations, for instance, proceed according to 

SOPs and processes that have changed little in decades. A WWII-era commander of a 

company, battalion, or division could return to his command after a brief on the role of 

1
new information technology (IT) the chain of command works the same as it did in 1945, 

the rank structure is the same, and the duties associated with the ranks are the same. 

Sophisticated technology has been adapted to a structure that has not changed. There is a 

surfeit of qualified O-4s, O-5s, and O-6s who are assigned to staffs because there are few 

direct leadership billets in the current pyramidal structure. 

In contrast, during the 1990s, technology centered on the ubiquitous computer 

transformed civilian corporations by radically altering the structure, pay, rank, and 

responsibilities of managers. In major corporations, the most radical change was the 

elimination of middle management, such as regional sales managers, because digital 

connectivity eliminated the need for managerial layers responsible for the orderly 

consolidation of micro data and daily reports. 

This case study focuses on an example from the infantry, but the underlying problem of 

structural rigidity applies throughout the military. Although the IT revolution has 

flattened the command structures of corporations, the military has persisted with a 

pyramidal structure designed brilliantly by Napoleon within the limits of the command, 

control, and communications means available to him. There are underlying principles of 

war that recommend much of that structure, some of which predated Napoleon. The 

Roman legion, for example, was based on the maniple, a unit of 100 soldiers commanded 

by a centurion that could flex independently like the fingers of the hand or be gathered 

quickly into a fist. The maniple became a rifle company, which remains a fundamental 

component of the battalion. 

Napoleon's organizational genius lay in organizing cavalry, artillery, supply, and infantry 

as separate commands united under his field command. At the lowest levels, he organized 

platoons and companies into a pyramid wherein which the breadth of each layer was 

determined by the span of control that could endure during battle. Small-unit 

commanders, for example, could command as far as their voices could reach over the din 

of battle. Subalterns had to be numerous, because one in every three or four commanders 

would be lost in a battle and had to be replaced immediately. Hence, the emphasis upon 

many small units with many leaders organized in a layer-cake pyramid that has persisted 

through today. Technology has radically extended the human voice and sight, yet the old 

organizations persist.

The infantry of Napoleon consisted of many riflemen firing single-shot weapons and 

suffering high losses, commanded by officers from a different level of society. These 

factors substantially determined the ratio of officers to troops. Loss rates and firepower 

have changed dramatically since the end of the Napoleonic style of war, yet the structure, 

numbers, and command hierarchy of the infantry battalion are substantially unchanged.

A factor extraneous to the battlefield also bears on rank structure: currently, there is one 

officer for each nine enlisted, but there is only one high school graduate as a potential 

enlistee for each college graduate as a potential officer. So, at the same time that 

technologies suggest substantial alterations in structure, the trend toward higher 

education suggests it will become harder to maintain the traditional enlisted-to-officer 

2
ratio. Together, these trends offer a compelling rationale for transforming military 

structure and the current assignment of numbers and ranks. 

But how to do this? Only a bottom-up approach in each service will have the fidelity and 

expertise to be accepted as credible. What follows is an illustration. The case is intended 

to serve as a launch point for small group discussions. It deals with a set of complex 

decisions that had to be made immediately in the midst of a combat action. The case 

raises the question: can professional officers and non-commissioned officers (NCOs) 

design alternative command and control or "rank and responsibility" models that would 

change how our units are currently structured and commanded? 

The Setting 

In May 2006, Ramadi was deemed "the most violent city in the world." Located on the 

Euphrates 70 miles west of Baghdad, Ramadi, in name, was the capital of Anbar 

Province, the fractious, sprawling, desert heartland of the Sunni insurgency. 

In the late spring of 2003, Ramadi actually functioned economically and politically as the 

provincial capital. Back then, the highway through the center of the city of 400,000 

residents and 40,000 buildings was clogged with cars, their rusted-out exhaust mufflers 

emitting clouds of noxious smoke. Crowds of Iraqis queued up outside the Government 

Center, seeking contracts, medical care, job interviews, resolution of disputes, and news 

of missing relatives. Inside, American soldiers sat alongside Iraqi office workers listening 

to complaints, offering reassurances, and entering data on computer spreadsheets. 

American diplomats in sport utility vehicles (SUVs) drove to work each day from their 

trailers at the nearby military base called Blue Diamond. The souk, an open-air market, 

was packed with men wandering idly amidst stalls selling meats, vegetables, clothes, and 

basic consumer goods. Real estate prices shot up 50 percent in one year.

However, prosperity and normalcy soon faded. When Fallujah was smashed and taken in 

November of 2004, extremist leaders like Abdullah Janabi, the "spiritual adviser" to 

Zarqawi, fled to Ramadi, 30 miles to the west. The local insurgents impulsively 

welcomed al Qaeda and the foreign fighters. Attacks against the American battalion in 

the city increased. But as the sheiks and local fighters began to lose control in 2005 to the 

outsiders, they decided that some accommodation with the occupying Marines might 

make sense. The American "Leadership Engagement" effort began to pay off, with the 

local leaders promising less violence in return for more control (and contracts). 

Offering economic development as the path to a brighter future was a favored ploy of the 

American-led coalition. In 2005, the Marines wooed the city elders by proffering 

construction and repair contracts. Of the 47 local contractors who began projects inside 

the city, five were killed and 30 others fled the city. One contractor bid $70,000 to fill a 

few pot holes. He explained he had to buy his own cement trucks because no one was 

willing to rent a truck headed for Ramadi. He had to hire guards and buy "licenses" from 

local officials, the major's office, the sheik in charge of the local tribe, and the insurgents 

3
on each street where he was working. Plus, his crew insisted on driving back to Baghdad 

each day, resulting in a three-hour work day. Hence, it took $70,000 to complete a $5,000 

job. 

A breakthrough occurred in November of 2005, when, despite al Qaeda objections, the 

residents of Ramadi went to the polls. The extremists lashed back, publicizing a list of 

nine sheiks labeled as traitors. Within 3 weeks, seven were assassinated, beginning what 

the Marines called the murder and intimidation (M&I) campaign. When the leading tribes 

sent 200 of their sons to join the Iraqi Security Forces, with an understanding they would 

be stationed in Anbar, an al Qaeda suicide bomber joined the line of recruits and blew 60 

of them to bits. That broke the spirit, never strong, of the tribes.

Beginning in 2006, most of the city leaders and middle class fled to Baghdad or Jordan. 

The bottom fell out of the real estate market as families just packed up and moved out, 

leaving behind empty houses that were occupied by itinerant insurgent gangs and 

eventually were smashed in gunfights. The hard-core insurgents controlled the streets. 

Every American patrol took sniper fire within 2 hours of leaving base. Improvised 

explosive devices (IEDs) were strewn along all the main streets. On an average day, the 

operations center of the 800-man American battalion patrolling the city would be tracking 

85 suspected IED locations. Explosive ordnance demolition (EOD) teams averaged seven 

detonations per day. Economics favored the insurgents. Unemployed youths were given 

$40 to implant an IED, while the EOD teams were complaining that the trigger men, 

frustrated when the IEDs were located, were blowing up robots that cost $170,000 apiece. 

By the spring of 2006, nine U.S. battalions had rotated through Ramadi, where in 30 

months four governors had been killed, kidnapped, or forced from office. The 

Government Center was a fortified wreck, its only inhabitants a platoon of Marines 

manning sandbagged firing posts. No Westerner would make it five blocks down the 

main street in a civilian SUV, let alone survive in the souk. The population had decreased 

by half, and traffic jams were a long-ago dream of normal times. Ramadi, a battered shell 

of its former self, bore the scars of repeated battle—shuttered storefronts, shell-pocked 

buildings, burnt-out cars, and raw, black splotches in the pavements from explosions. 

Marines on patrol ran across the open spots and ducked in and out of doorways. 

Insurgents hiding in plain sight among civilians watched, chose their time and place, and 

opened fire.

The 3rd Battalion of the 8th Marine Regiment operated in western Ramadi and the 2nd 

Battalion of the 506th Army Regiment—a successor to the "Band of Brothers" of the 

101st Air Assault Division—operated to the east. Iraqi officials feared that the Arab press 

would portray a full attack as "another Fallujah," yet the same officials would not send 

sufficient Iraqi troops to take back the city block by block. Until they did, the Americans 

held the dike and kept control of the Government Center as the battered glimmer of 

future stability.

4
The Event 

On April 17, 2006, the insurgents challenged the Marines to an open fight for control of a 

platoon reinforced observation post, a former Iraqi Veteran’s Administrative building, 

known as OP VA. The day was overcast and drizzling, with a steady wind blowing 

clouds of dust that grounded the helicopters. Attacking while the Americans lacked air, 

the insurgents employed mortars, rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) and machinegun fire 

to pin down the sentries, while maneuvering a cement truck filled with explosives 

through the serpentine entry to a main outpost a few hundred meters east of the 

Government Center. Despite being buffeted, the sentries returned fire from their 

sandbagged posts. After they killed the driver, the truck exploded in a blast that wrecked 

half the building and threw one sentry out of his tower. He scrambled back to his post and 

shot another insurgent before an RPG round hit the sandbags and spilled him out a 

second time. Again, he climbed back behind his machinegun and resumed firing. Luckily, 

not one Marine was killed, while the insurgents lost about a dozen men. 

The last, thin thread of Iraqi government presence was Governor Mahmoon Sami Rashid, 

who had curious political associations. On the one hand, he boasted that he was on good 

terms with the "resistance." On the other hand, he had survived, by his count, 29 

assassination attempts and, after a particularly close call, had muttered to the Marines: 

"Worst thing I ever did was invite in foreigners." While he seemed to have an 

understanding with some local insurgents, al Qaeda and the most fervent jihadists were 

determined to kill him. 

Two of his predecessors had been killed and two others forced to resign after 

kidnappings. His deputy and the chairman of the provincial council had been 

assassinated; his secretary had been beheaded. To keep Mahmoon alive, the Marines 

picked him up each morning at his fortified compound and escorted him two kilometers 

to the Government Center, where he shuffled papers or talked on the phone, if it were 

working, while the Marines manned the machineguns. After a few hours, the Marines 

would escort him back home. 

LtCol Stephen Neary, USMC, the Commanding Officer of 3/8, routinely took out the 

security detail that guarded the governor. "That way," Neary said, "I was not saddling the 

companies with another task that would throw off their day's schedule. The governor 

always ran late and invariably asked for something extra. I could get him moving and 

refuse his requests for extra goodies, or bargain with him. We got along and I'd get some 

good scoop."

Every other day, at least one Humvee in the battalion was hit by an IED. The Marines 

were very satisfied with the up-armor on the 1114 model Humvee they had recently 

received. The drivers were annoyed, though, because most IEDs that exploded shredded 

at least one tire costing $275, damaged the axle, required a tow back to base, and took the 

Humvee off-line for 4 or 5 days. Neary wanted to be able to take a hit, leave a second 

Humvee behind for security and towing, and still proceed with the governor's large party. 

5
On May 2, Neary rolled into the governor's compound with six Humvees, two more than 

usual. Mahmoon had persuaded several Iraqi officials to make an appearance at the 

Center with him, so Neary had decided to bulk up security. As was often the case, the 

sergeant major, Carl Gantt, was traveling in the same Humvee. Mahmoon's brother was 

in charge of the governor's Personal Security Detachment (PSD). After talking with 

Gantt, the convoy commander, CWO John Rabert placed the governor's three vehicles 

(four-door sedans) behind the PSD, an order of march he changed periodically. 

All six Humvees had mounted radios tuned to a frequency that interfaced with PIRs, the 

handheld personal radios many of the Marines had strapped to their armored vests. Thus, 

all six Humvees shared good radio communications. The battalion commander, the 

convoy commander, and the sergeant major also had a PRC-119 radio in each of their 

three Humvees. The PRC 119 tuned to TAC-1, a frequency that connected them to the 

four fixed sites along Route Michigan, the main street, and to the ops center at the 

battalion's base two kilometers east. 

It was a beautiful morning, the sun blazing down, temperature in the high 80s, not one 

warning of imminent danger, the governor in fine fettle, showing off a bit in front of his 

guests. Of 39 senior provincial officials, only one, called a deputy governor, had showed 

up to accompany him to work. At the last minute, Mahmoon impulsively shoved the 

official into his SUV to continue an animated conversation during the 10-minute drive. 

Neary had outposts every several hundred meters on both sides of the road, plus a rifle 

company working a few blocks to the north. At 10a.m. the convoy was rolling down 

Route Michigan with a line of traffic in front and behind. As usual, small knots of men 

were loitering on the sidewalks, where others were repairing tires and working on cars 

decades past their prime. A Marine up-gunner on a 240 Golf 7.62mm machinegun turned 

on his camcorder to record the patrol. He wanted to send it home to show his parents why 

they shouldn't pay any attention to all that news about big, bad Ramadi. A shabby orange 

and white taxi moving fast out of a side street caught his eye and he focused in on it. 

BAAM! The governor's sedan was engulfed in orange flames, a car door sailing up like a 

kite, followed by a wave of thick black smoke. The concussion wave shook Neary's 

Humvee, two vehicles ahead of the governor’s car, but the thick glass absorbed much of 

the sound wave, and for a few seconds Neary thought it was just another IED—meaning, 

at worst, another Humvee towed back to the base. Then he looked back and saw flames 

leaping through the cloud of dust. “Damn,” he thought, “I've lost the governor.” 

Legs, arms, sandals, torsos, and car chunks were scattered across the road. The 

devastation told Neary that the blast had been caused by a suicide vehicle improvised 

explosive device (SVIED), probably a couple of hundred pounds. Five or six civilian 

vehicles were blazing, the tires and gas tanks aflame. He saw the Humvee in front of him 

turn around and drive into the flames. That was CWO Rabert, the convoy commander, 

and he was headed to secure the far side of the ambush, protecting what was left of the 

Governor’s convoy. However, communications were a problem. CWO Rabert’s antennas 

6
had been shot off his Humvee. Gunnery Sergeant Klezarus, the PSD platoon sergeant, 

headed straight for the governor, his first priority if they were hit. 

"SVBIED!" Neary yelled over TAC-1, simultaneously alerting the sentries in fixed 

overwatch positions on Route Michigan, the platoon on guard at the Government Center, 

Kilo Company operating north of Route Michigan, and the battalion ops center. "Big 

blow! Multiple cas1 on governor's convoy at Justice Center!"

Neary's Humvee drove back through the flames. He saw the Gunny's Humvee parked at 

right angles to the governor's shattered SUV. The Gunny was herding the shocked 

governor and one of his bodyguards into the Humvee. 

"Gunny, take him to the Government Center in Victor 6!" Neary said. Victor 6 had three 

flat tires and one Marine casualty. With Victor 4 as a guard vehicle, Victor 6 limped east 

the 300 meters to the Government Center. With the Convoy Commander off-scene, 

Neary became the prime decisionmaker. 

Amidst the flames and screams, Neary could hear and see enemy machinegun fire 

impacting all around his vehicle, mortar rounds landing across the street as well as RPGs 

being launched from both north and south of MSR Michigan at the ambush site. The 

enemy was on both sides of him. Smoke was billowing around him, swirling with the 

wind, obstructing his view. He listened for a moment. The firing was increasing. He got 

back on TAC-1 and contacted Lima Company to the north. 

"Weapons tight, Lima," Neary said. "Send a platoon to close on my pos, but do not fire 

without PID [Positive Identification]. And even then, I want to hear only short, aimed 

bursts. I don't want any friendly fire down here."

A few weeks earlier, along the same stretch of highway, about 60 insurgents had attacked 

with mortars, RPGs, AKs, and a suicide bomber in a dump truck. Neary didn't know what 

to expect, but he decided the risk from a second SVBIED was higher than that of an 

effective ground attack from the adjoining buildings. Besides, he had a Marine squad at 

an observation post on the roof of OP VA only a few meters away on the northern side of 

the street. They could provide firepower.

"I want units to seal off this area at a distance of about five blocks to disrupt the enemy 

mortar teams. Cut off the escape routes! Don't send the QRF [quick reaction force] until I 

tell you," he told the Ops Center. "Have the gates open at the Government Center to 

receive casualties, but don't send any vehicles here."

Sergeant Major Carl Gantt was organizing the evacuation of the governor's PSD, loading 

them into a high-back Humvee. Screaming men and women were rushing forward with 

wounds gushing blood, scrambling for seats. Most were innocent civilians with 

 

1

 Casualties 

7
blackened skin and ripped clothes, desperate for aid, instinctively knowing their best 

chance lay in pushing their way onto the Humvee. There was no accurate Iraqi manifest. 

The governor was in the habit of including hangers-on at the last minute when he was 

leaving his compound. Because he knew most of them by sight, Gantt was able to sort out 

the wounded bodyguards and drove slowly to the Government Center. 

Neary remained behind amidst the screaming, the blood and the flames, trying to spot the 

deputy governor. His dazed wife was standing on the sidewalk near her undamaged car. 

Neary assumed her husband was nearby. Then he remembered seeing the governor grab 

his deputy and tug him into his sedan to continue their conversation. Neary saw his 

charred corpse lying in the shattered sedan. When he looked back, the wife was being 

escorted into the Justice Center.

Once all of the governor's party were cleared from the scene, Neary drove back to the 

Government Center and patiently constructed a personnel list with the governor. Of the 

11 in his party, one was dead, along with two civilians. Another 30 Iraqis were injured. 

One Marine and one Iraqi bodyguard were en route to Charlie Med. Neary called the 

Deputy Commanding General, gave him a brief update, and rushed back to the scene of 

the explosion. 

Once back on scene, he took out the personnel list, gathered all remaining members of 

the governor's party, and checked off each name. Twenty minutes after the explosion, 

Neary had accounted for all 11 who had been traveling with the governor. The enemy had 

broken contact. Six cars were still burning. To Neary, the primary mission became 

checking the dozens of parked and abandoned cars in the vicinity of the Justice Center, 

lest one or more be rigged with explosives. Neary called forward the EOD to inspect the 

cars left on-scene. An AT-4 blew up one that looked suspicious, but it turned out not to 

contain explosives. 

Two hours after the initial explosion, Neary called the location secure, and combat trains 

rolled in to wash away the blood and drag seven wrecked cars from the road. They were 

stacked next to one another alongside a shot-out building. Neary drove back to base to 

conduct an after-action debrief.

After-Action Discussion 

Once back at the based called Hurricane Point, the battalion commander gathered his key 

staff in the small ops center. "Let's review where we stand," the battalion commander 

said. "We get hit every time we go downtown. Most is small stuff—the usual IEDs and 

snipers. But occasionally those knuckleheads put together a coordinated attack, day or 

night. If we lose this governor...well, I don’t have to tell you we'll be the bug under the 

division's microscope. The gunner did an outstanding job and saved the governor's bacon. 

But we were stretched out there today. So, let's all put our egos to one side. All options 

are on the table. Do we change how we do things?"

8
The battalion commander stood back and waited. The Chief Warrant Officer who ran the 

ops center looked around and then spoke up. "Comm was fine. We could hear everything 

on our net. We had a UAV on station in 15 mikes and counted every hummer. With the 

muj, it was the usual. A couple of guys running from one building to another. No solid 

targets." The S-3 nodded in agreement. "We were in support-mode only," he said. "Back 

here, we were picking up nothing that could make us pro-active. We monitored and 

responded. Here's what was critical.” Glancing at a notebook in his left hand, he wrote 

down a series of points on a clean space on the status board: 

1006. Notification over TAC-1: SVBIED hit the governor's convoy. (Heard in all fixed 

posts, the ops center and all other units monitoring that frequency) 

1014 Convoy Cdr in Victor 6 exits with governor. 

1020 Bn Cdr orders weapons tight for Lima Company to the north. 

1022 Bn Cdr orders ops center to dispatch units to seal off area. 

 

1024 Bn Cdr orders ops center not to send the QRF, due to fear of a second SVBIED. 

1035 Bn Cdr reports all of governor's party evacuated to Govt Center 

1045 Bn Cdr reports to Deputy General that he has drawn up a personnel list with 

governor. No important official is missing. One dead. One Marine and one Iraqi official 

evaced to Charlie Med. Many civilians dead and wounded. 

1050 Bn Cdr orders QRF come forward to clear out traffic at scene of bombing; orders 

two EOD teams forward to inspect all cars remaining at scene. 

1100 Deputy Commanding General arrives on-scene via helo. 

"OK, I have four questions," the battalion commander said. 

"First, if I had been here in the Ops Center, I would have heard everything that was going 

on, and could vector a UAV to provide real-time video. So is there anything we're 

missing in the ops center that technology can provide?" 

"Second, had I been back here today and the gunner as convoy commander had to choose 

between protecting the governor or remaining on-scene, which of those decisions the S-3 

wrote on the board might have fallen apart? 

"Let me put this in geek-talk. Does the concept of coup d'oeil—the commander forward 

watching the battle—have renewed relevance today? Look, we have this Research and 

Development (R&D) project called Command Post of the Future (CPOF). What's that all 

about? Delivering more info to the commander who is in the rear and not on the 

9
battlefield. Why isn't he up front, the way Alexander, Caesar, and Napoleon were? 

Because he needs to know what's going on with different units he can't see? 

"The CP in the rear was a fixture in World War II. And when you look at the Coalition 

Forces Land Component Command (CFLCC) today—whoa! That’s 200 computers and 

20 video screens. Hell, here in Ramdi we have two video screens and 20 computers. So 

staffs have all this new info, or at least much more data. 

"Maybe we're going at this from the wrong end. Why do I have to be back here, if the ops 

center staff can feed me the required info while I am forward at the critical point of the 

battle? Would things have gone better if I had been in the ops center, or would they have 

been more mixed up?" 

"Third, do we need to expand senior staff and ask division to send us some more majors 

who can pitch in if the action escalates? We are short-handed. The XO and the S-3 have 

to swap off 12 and 12 to run things back here in order to free me up to get out." 

"Fourth, how do we decide who can make what decisions? Maybe we don't need more 

majors; maybe we have the talent right here. We're on our own out here. Division and 

brigade aren't telling us how to cut the grass. We can task organize as we decide. So do 

we designate a set of—let's call them Task Force commanders—who don’t get in the way 

of ordinary ops, but who are on-call to be pushed forward? 

"We want skilled, knowledgeable people at the scene of tactical battles. Do those skills 

correlate with rank? How do we decide who can make what decisions, regardless of 

rank?"

10
Instructors Guide for Transforming the Structure of the Military

The potential conclusions from this case are counter intuitive. Most would assume that, 

with excellent communications, the commander does not need to be up front, because he 

can monitor all, understand the situation, and give orders from his command post in the 

rear. The conclusion of this case seems to be the opposite: that with networked 

capabilities, there is a case to be made that senior commanders need to be out front; or 

that whoever is out front needs the authority to make decisions. In that sense it seems to 

conclude that net-centric capabilities do not yield adequate operational understanding and 

situational awareness to give a rear-based commander the basis for solid decisions. 

So the issue is also, for what should the network be used? Consider two cases. In one 

case, the commander in the rear relies on net-centric communications to understand the 

situation and then gives orders. In the second case, the front line commander does not 

rely on net-centric systems to understand the battlefield situation—he is there. But he 

relies on net-centric capabilities to implement his orders more efficiently. The case that 

you think most accurately reflects reality leads to different conclusions about the overall 

command structure. 

To put this in IT terms, if net-centric capabilities flatten lines of authority and "shift 

power to the edge," who has to be at the edge to use that power effectively?

These are two very different models. You might highlight this difference more and tie 

everything back into the traditional command structure, which as you? Who? point out is 

now based on the Roman and Napoleonic models (where local span of control was key). 

How do these conclusions regarding net-centric usefulness affect that span of control and 

hence command structure arrangements?

Put aside the particulars of this case and address the general questions: Should parts of 

the military command and rank structure be modified, given the new technologies? 

What is a practical process for structural transformation, or is such transformation 

inadvisable? 

Issue 1: "Is there anything we're missing in the ops center that technology can provide?" 

Guideline: The Defense budget is badly under-funded. To add anything will require takeaways. This opens the issue to the question of funding for "near competitor" contingency 

that favors Air Force and Navy versus "long war" that favors Army/Marines. 

Issue 2: "Does the concept of coup d'oeil—the commander forward watching the battle—

have added relevance today? Had I been back here today and the Gunner as convoy 

commander had to choose between protecting the governor or remaining on-scene, which 

of those decisions the S-3 wrote on the board might have fallen apart?" 

Guideline Part A: The four decisions listed below would have been contentious: 

11
1020 Bn Cdr orders weapons tight for Lima Company to the north. 

1022 Bn Cdr orders ops center to dispatch units to seal off area. 

1024 Bn Cdr orders ops center not to send the QRF, due to fear of a second SVBIED. 

1050 Bn Cdr orders QRF come forward to clear out traffic at scene of bombing; orders 

two EOD teams forward to inspect all cars remaining at scene. 

Part B: So, should the battalion Commanding Officer be forward, or in the rear? The 

potential conclusions are counter-intuitive. 

Most would assume that with excellent communications, the commander does not need to 

be up front because he can monitor all, understand the situation from the rear, and give 

orders from his command post. The conclusion of this case seems to be the opposite, that 

with networked capabilities, there is a case to be made that senior commanders need to be 

up front; or that whoever is up front needs the authority to make decisions of very wide 

latitude. 

 

Key point to discuss: Do net-centric capabilities provide situational awareness best 

applied by a commander who stays in the op center in the rear, or are they better used by 

allowing the commander to move forward? (Do not allow the students to duck the 

discussion by saying both opinions are correct!) 

Look at two cases. In Case A, the commander in the rear relies on net-centric 

communications to understand the situation and then he gives orders. 

In Case B, the front line commander does not rely on net-centric systems to understand 

the battlefield situation—he is there. But he relies on net-centric capabilities to 

implement his orders more efficiently. 

The case that you think more accurately reflects reality leads to different conclusions 

about the overall command structure. 

Issue 3: "Do we need to expand senior staff and ask division to send us some more 

majors who can pitch in if the action escalates? We are short-handed." 

Guideline: This will provoke lively debate. Cite the National Football League (NFL)—

the number of coaches per team has expanded from an average of five to 16 in seven 

years. Marv Levy argues technology has complicated work, while Joe Gibbs is trying to 

bring in a coach for every member of the team! 

Issue 4: "Maybe we don't need more majors; maybe we have the talent right here in the 

battalion. We want skilled, knowledgeable people at the scene of tactical battles. Do 

those skills correlate with rank? How do we decide who can make what decisions, 

regardless of rank?" 

12
Guideline: This opens up the issue of changing the pyramid structure. Every officer will 

have a strong opinion. 

1. Are we deluding ourselves? Why has the military appended new technologies to an 

existing pyramid structure when those technologies have changed and flattened the 

structure in civilian corporations? 

2. The Roman and Napoleonic models of the steep pyramid were based on the necessity 

of highly localized spans of control. So how do net-centric advances affect that span of 

control—do they flatten the span, or leave it unchanged? 

If net-centric capabilities flatten the lines of authority and "shift power to the edge," who 

has to be at the edge to use that power effectively —the "strategic corporal" or the 

battalion commander? (Please don't claim it is both!) 

13