AIR CAVALRY RECONNAISSANCE, SURVEILLANCE, AND TARGET ACQUISITION

The following day Mike, Jillian, and I met in the dining facility and ate breakfast together. We discussed what we had seen so far, and of course spoke at length about Wanat, this time trying to capture the lessons we had learned. Later that morning we sat in on the TF Out Front targeting meeting. The targeting meeting was an important synchronization effort that enabled the team to focus their reconnaissance assets in order to better understand the enemy and answer the commander’s information requirements. I was very interested in their process because I felt that it was one of the most important meetings held in a cavalry unit. It determined their focus and resource allocation in order to obtain information about the enemy. The results of the targeting meeting became the reconnaissance priorities.

Helicopter crews were assigned specific tasks based on the meeting’s outcome. Without this meeting, well-intentioned aircraft were merely sent out on the battlefield to troll for the enemy. If the targeting meeting was conducted properly, then the crew would review the results of their reconnaissance efforts since the last meeting. They would determine if they had answered the questions posed previously about the enemy. It might be that they were trying to determine the routes that the enemy used to travel from one area to another—where they crossed the Kunar River, for example. At the conclusion of the meeting they would decide if they needed to continue collecting data in order to answer those questions or if they needed to shift their collection efforts to another location. It was refreshing to see the progress of an intelligence-collection process that I’d helped to create in 2-17 Cavalry years before.

I served as the operations officer of 2-17 Cavalry from 2003 to 2004, while deployed to Iraq. I had joined the squadron at Qayyarah Airfield West, south of Mosul, in June 2003. While the 101st encountered significant fighting at each major city as they pushed north through Iraq, the initial push went surprisingly smoothly. Once they captured Mosul, the fighting subsided somewhat. But after a relatively calm summer, enemy activity abruptly increased.

Once the division was established in northern Iraq, 2-17 Cavalry was tasked to work directly for 2nd Brigade Combat Team (Strike). That fall Strike began encountering IEDs, ambushes, and mortar and rocket attacks, all on a more frequent basis. We kept our Kiowas in the air around the clock. We covered ground patrols when they went out, we provided aerial security for meetings, and we conducted reconnaissance around our FOBs, but we rarely caught anyone in the act of emplacing IEDs or rockets. We seemed to show up always right after an attack had occurred. Faced with the dilemma of how to “get left of the boom,” as we called the process of trying to determine what the enemy would do before he did it, the intelligence officer Captain Candy Smith and I began trying to find patterns in enemy activity.

At that time we had no tools to help us with trend or pattern analysis other than an army field manual. We were certain that the enemy was no different than every other living thing on the planet: they were creatures of habit, they set patterns, and it was our job to find those patterns and exploit them. Certainly, enemy actions could be more accurately anticipated if we could determine a precedent in time, location, or routes.

As we brainstormed the problem, Captain Smith’s assistant said she thought she could write a program or build a database that would allow us to record all of the attacks and overlay them onto a map. We would then be able to plot attacks by type, time, size, etc., and color-code them. Once we began compiling the data, we began to notice clear and distinct patterns in locations and times—where and when the enemy preferred to attack us.

Armed with this information, we were then able to task Kiowas with specific reconnaissance objectives. We didn’t immediately begin killing the enemy as they prepared for attacks, but what we quickly experienced was a reduction in attacks due to our presence in the right place at the right time. We forced the enemy to operate where they preferred not to operate. We interdicted their timelines, and clearly, our actions began to deter their attacks. That alone saved lives. We had found a way to become more effective for the soldier on the ground.

Our actions were not novel by any stretch of the imagination. We implemented simple pattern analysis that already existed in army doctrine at the time. What made it unique was that we made it work, albeit at the elementary level, despite lacking the technological tools to exploit our ideas fully.

In 2003, we had limited technological systems in our command posts. Few units even had Internet access—only those supported by large signal corps assets, and that wasn’t many. Intelligence collection was done at the unit level, and there were few databases below the division that held a repository of intelligence data collected. We used the manual approach. Each day we contacted the infantry battalions and asked for a roll-up of all enemy activity in their area for that day. We copied down the location of attacks, number of fighters, weapons used, and time of the attacks. Our soldiers then manually input the raw data into our database. We were trying to transform that data into actionable intelligence—to make sense of it all.

What we did in 2-17 Cavalry turned the light on for me personally. It helped me realize that our potential was far greater than we had previously realized. With the right tools we could exploit the raw data even further to answer much more complex questions about the enemy. I did not have all the answers, but I had many questions and ideas, which I took with me to 7-17 Cavalry.

By my second tour in Iraq, under the direction of General Stanley McChrystal, joint fusion cells were established in Iraq and Afghanistan, which brought all collection, not only army but also joint and other governmental agencies (OGAs), together. Bringing all the various sources of intelligence together, “fusing them,” made joint fusion cells a game changer. A fusion cell had been established at FOB Fenty and I looked forward to exploiting its resources to make us a much more effective cavalry task force and valuable asset to the forces we supported.

Moreover, our command posts, at the battalion task force level, had become much more capable since the war began. The technology resident in a battalion in 2008 rivaled, if not exceeded, that found in a division in 2003. Our senior leaders saw the power of pushing access to systems down to the lowest possible level, thus enhancing understanding and enabling targets to be prosecuted in a much timelier manner.

As Jillian, Mike, and I sat in on 2-17 Cavalry’s targeting meeting, it was exciting to see how far they had advanced our original systems. Aviation units do not “target” per se, but TF Out Front used the targeting process to focus their reconnaissance and surveillance assets. Jillian’s goal, and mine, was to gain as comprehensive an understanding of their process as possible in one targeting cycle (seven days of input/analysis/output). We would then take that process back to Fort Campbell and begin trying to take it to the next level.

Jillian’s experience thus far had been academic and in the garrison environment. PDSS was her first trip to a combat zone. She saw the environment through the lens of potential. Her mind was filled with ideas, but she was somewhat concerned that her being only a lieutenant in an aviation unit would somehow hinder her ability to do all the things she wanted to do. Jillian didn’t like parochialisms. She liked transparent, straight-shooting, honest feedback, and she welcomed it from all players regardless of rank and position. She hoped to play a key role in the process, despite preexisting notions about inexperienced lieutenants.

During my first few weeks of command she had clearly demonstrated what kind of officer she was. She had sent a document to my office for review. It was a good product, but I had numerous questions, which I wrote in red in the margins of the paper. When I finished making notes and asking questions, I had filled the margins with red ink. My adjutant returned it to Jillian later that afternoon. She walked straight to my door and knocked.

“Yes, Jillian,” I said.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she said with genuine sincerity.

“For what?”

“For this,” she said and held the paper up. “This is the first feedback I’ve received on my products since I’ve been in the army. I can work with this.” She smiled and walked out. I knew she would thrive as our intelligence officer.

Because I didn’t have the answers, I knew it was critical that I ask the right questions. I felt that if I could adequately articulate the vision I had for what we could do, and get the intelligence team to fearlessly attack the problem before us, we would make huge strides and contribute immensely to the fight in eastern Afghanistan. I didn’t want them to fear failing, nor did I want them to hold back in exploring their ideas. Immediately following TF Out Front’s targeting meeting I pulled Jillian aside.

“Jillian, there is a wealth of raw data in the fusion cell that we can use.”

“Sir, are they even going to let me in those meetings?” she asked, half joking but with obvious reservations. When she attended the fusion cell meeting with 2-17 Cavalry’s intelligence officer, she said that most folks wrote off the aviation intelligence section, except to ask for operational-type input. The fusion cell focuses primarily on targeting high-value individuals, and aviation intelligence focuses more on the big picture of enemy trends. She had come back from the meeting with the realization that she needed to listen intently to the input from each unit and use that to piece together an understanding of the enemy holistically.

“I think we can exploit the intelligence they offer to create a macro-perspective of enemy activity in our area and not just focus on high-value targets,” she said, “but it isn’t going to be easy. My shop is small.”

“Well, what if I found you more people?” I offered, knowing she wanted and needed a larger team. The more we brainstormed about what was possible, the more work it created, and we were authorized only Jillian, her assistant, one sergeant, and two analysts. We needed more analysts.

She thought about it then looked directly at me and said, “If you give me more people, I will definitely put them to work.” She discussed her vision for how her shop would work through the tasks of deliberate operation planning, intelligence collection, database management, and current operations and intelligence tracking. She was already noting how each person’s tasks would fuse with the others’ to eliminate redundancies and run efficiently. I listened, content with her plans, while thinking about the enemy we would face.

“You know,” I interrupted, “the question isn’t where—we can easily see where the enemy is attacking us in the Kunar and Pech river valleys. What we need to know is how they are sustaining the fight. Are they using the timber-smuggling money to finance it? If so, how does it work? What routes are they using to smuggle to and from Pakistan?”

She nodded, excited to discuss the threat, and added, “I agree that those are questions we can help answer as the aviation task force. We can see some of those indicators—how are they bringing weapons and materiel into the Pech from the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA)?”

“They are exposed the most at the river crossings,” I added. Since flying over and observing our area of operations for the first time, my focus had immediately gone to the river. Why focus on the porous, “official” border when we could focus our resources on the natural obstacle—the river—and narrow the enemy’s options down?

She nodded and added, “I think we can figure this thing out, but it’s going to require a focused methodology to help confirm what we see through visual indicators using the other collection means, like human and signals intelligence, and of course all of the ground units.”

The questions we discussed that day would form the basis of my intelligence priorities later on—what I as the commander wanted to know about the enemy. We had to understand the enemy’s modus operandi, understand what they knew about us, and then interdict them both physically and psychologically. I knew that it would not be easy and that many people might think that an aviation unit could not possibly do this, but I believed we could. We would determine the enemy’s pattern of life, interdict their communications and logistics, surprise them, then keep them off balance, thus forcing them to act counter to their desires.

I could see that Jillian was initially a bit unsure as to how we would answer all these questions, but her whole demeanor had changed as we spoke. This was right up her alley. She loved the complexity of the problem, and I knew her team would thrive solving such intricate problems.

There were a lot of collection assets within our area of operations. We had to maximize the use of those assets and form quality relationships with everyone else in our area, others who were studying the same tactical problem. I wanted to create an environment where she and her team were not afraid to explore their ideas. I wanted them to start solving the puzzle a piece at a time. We would be flying all over the N2KL daily. Every crew would be a sensor and would be looking for something based on where they were going to fly and the time that they would be there. It would be up to Jillian’s team to put them in the right place at the right time with the right focus.

At the end of July, our site survey was complete. It was time to return to Fort Campbell and make our final preparations for deployment. John Lynch’s guys flew us back to Bagram Airfield to catch an air force jet to Manas, Kyrgyzstan. When we arrived at Bagram we entered the air force system of personnel movement. I had used the system many times before, traveling in and out of Iraq, where in 2004 my Gerber multitool was confiscated because the security folks apparently feared that I might use it to hijack the very plane that was taking me home after a yearlong deployment in Iraq. I realized everyone had to do their job and follow the rules, but I’ll admit that I had a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

The airforce passenger terminal folks took us to a fenced-in compound where a young airman told us, “This is the holding yard. Wait in here until you are called forward to manifest. Do not leave the area.”

We filed into the small holding area feeling like caged dogs, and what I saw made me sick to my stomach. The waiting area was nothing more than a large cement pad inside a fenced area. There were a couple of metal benches under a small shed, but most of the pad remained outside, under the pitch-black Afghan night. There, laid out on the cement or propped against rucksacks, was a large group of clearly weathered soldiers. A few of them stared off into the night, detached. I perceived that their thoughts were far from where we sat. But most of the men were in a deep sleep. One soldier, on the cement slab, sat flat on his butt, his legs stretched straight out in front of him and his feet crossed. He leaned back into his rucksack. His arms were folded across his chest, and his patrol cap was pulled down over his eyes. At least fifty of us dragged our bags in and tried to find a place to relax. He didn’t move. He appeared to be in a coma, oblivious to everything around him.

The men’s uniforms were salt encrusted, their hair matted and greasy. They looked as if they had walked there from whatever outpost they had occupied for the past year. They had basically done just that.

These men wore the patch of the 173rd Airborne. A helicopter had picked them up at FOB Blessing. They’d flown to Jalalabad, where they’d caught another flight to Bagram. Now, these American heroes, who had spent fifteen months in a remote outpost fighting for their lives on a daily basis, were lying on a cement pad and getting barked at by a cleanly washed air force sergeant who worked a shift. I was sickened.

I approached the sergeant. “Don’t you realize that these guys just rolled in from being in an outpost for over a year? Do you not have a classroom or someplace with chairs where they can wait?” I asked.

“No, sir. This is how the system works,” he said.

I shook my head and walked away. I sat down, leaned back against my rucksack, turned on my headlamp, and began trying to capture more notes from our visit. After several hours of waiting, we were told to line up for manifest. They began moving us forward into a large processing center. Quietly, the men got up and began forming a line. No one had complained about having to wait on concrete. In fact, they had not spoken much at all, not even to one another. These men were going home. They were used to such a sparse existence that this seemed somewhat normal, if not better than what “normal” had become. I then saw a few men go back to the fence and move nine wooden crosses forward. They were ceremonial stands used to hold the Kevlar, dog tags, and weapons at memorials for fallen heroes. And then it struck me: These men were not just any soldiers, in from some remote location. They were the men who had lost nine of their brothers in the Waygal Valley just a few days prior. These were Specialist McKaig’s platoon mates. They were headed home and taking the memorial stands with them. As we moved forward in the line, several soldiers silently continued to move the wooden stands along with them.

It was a stark reminder of the tragic realities of war. The scene clearly demonstrated the contrast between those who fight from remote locations in the heart of enemy territory and those who don’t. Nonetheless, I fully understood and respected the fact that everyone had a role to play in the war. The soldiers and airmen who worked in offices on Bagram were no less important. Their work contributed to the overall success of the war. Those who ensured that we got mail to the front lines affected morale perhaps more than they could imagine. Nevertheless, frontline soldiers dating back to Vietnam have looked down on those who did not leave the big bases, those who are not directly involved in fighting.

We boarded an air force C-17 and flew in silence to Manas, Kyrgyzstan, lulled to sleep by the roar of jet engines. In Manas, while we waited for a flight back to the States, we played cards, and Mike and I reminisced about our days together in the 1st Squadron, 1st U.S. Cavalry. I also had time to look carefully over my notes and assess where I thought we were in terms of preparation, and what needed a bit more attention prior to our deployment. I had gained a much greater appreciation for the complexity of the fight we’d face in Afghanistan. Words can’t truly describe the breathtaking, beautiful, yet treacherous terrain in eastern Afghanistan, nor can one fully understand the difficulty of fighting a largely indigenous, disciplined enemy that is battle-hardened and knows how to use the terrain to his advantage. I already had great confidence in our crews. I felt that we had prepared ourselves thoroughly for the deployment; however, I left Afghanistan knowing that we must ensure that our air mission commanders, those pilots in charge of teams who make critical, tactical decisions with potentially strategic implications, understood the importance of their decisions on the battlefield.

Our pre-deployment site survey was complete. In my mind it was a huge success and an eye-opening experience for me personally. I was excited to return to Fort Campbell and put the final touches on our training.