Large-Scale

Combat Operations
The Division Fight
XXX

CFL
X
X
X

X
X
XX
X X
SUST
X

X
XX

XX
Support
X

Area
X
OBJ A
X OBJ B
X
X

X
CFL

Consolidation
Area Close Area Deep Area
XX

Edited by Dennis S. Burket

The Art of
Tactics Series

US Army Command and General Staff College Press

US Army Combined Arms Center
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas
Cover image: Depiction of a division conducting an attack in large-scale
combat operations. Created by Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe.
 THE ART OF TACTICS SERIES

LARGE-SCALE
COMBAT OPERATIONS
The Division Fight

Edited by Dennis S. Burket

A US Army Command and General Staff College Press Book

Published by the Army University Press
 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Burket, Dennis S., 1957- editor. | U.S. Army Command and
General Staff College, issuing body.
Title: Large-scale combat operations : the division fight / edited by
Dennis S. Burket.
Other titles: Art of tactics ; v. 1.
Description: [1st edition]. | [Fort Leavenworth, Kansas] : Army Uni-
versity Press, 2019. | Series: The art of tactics ; volume 1 | “A US Army
Command and General Staff College Press Book.” | Includes bibliographi-
cal references.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019038905 (print) | LCCN 2019038906 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781940804583 (paperback) | ISBN 9781940804583 (adobe pdf).
Subjects: LCSH: United States. Army--Maneuvers. | United States.
Army--Infantry. | United States. Army--Armored troops. | Operational art
(Military science) | Unified operations (Military science) | Tactics.
Classification: LCC U162 .L28 2019 (print) | LCC U162 (ebook) |
DDC 355.4--dc23 | SUDOC D 110.23:1.
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019038905. LC ebook re-
cord available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019038906.

2019

US Army Command and General Staff College Press pub-

lications cover a wide variety of military topics. The views
expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and
not necessarily those of the Department of the Army or the
Department of Defense. A full list of digital Army Univer-
sity Press publications is available at http://usacac.army.mil/
organizations/lde/csi/pubs.

The seal of the US Army Command and General Staff College authenticates
this document as an official publication of the US Army Command and General
Staff College Press. It is prohibited to use this official seal on any republication
without the express written permission of the US Army Command and General
Staff College Press.

Editor
Diane R. Walker

ii
 Foreword

In 1915, the Department of Military Art of the Army Service Schools

at Fort Leavenworth, Kan., revised and published Studies in Minor Tactics.
In the preface of this volume, Lt. Col. W. A. Holbrook, cavalry officer and
senior instructor for the department, wrote: “It is believed this book will
prove of great value to those officers seeking information as to the practi-
cal handling of small units in field operations, and of marked assistance to
those preparing themselves for admission to The Army Service Schools.”
More than 100 years later, the Department of Army Tactics (DTAC)
aspires to deliver a volume of similar value as our Army orients on large-
scale combat operations. In this inaugural contemporary compendium,
several DTAC faculty members—representing both active-duty and re-
tired Army officers—have put their ideas on paper to reinforce our emerg-
ing Operations doctrine and continue the professional discourse required
to stimulate and improve our profession of arms.
The chapters in this volume are intentionally focused on large-scale
combat operations at the division level. While there was no specific guid-
ance to address any particular warfighting function, most of the work is
oriented on mission command or movement and maneuver. There is a nod
to fires and intelligence, as well as the broader areas of leadership and
information within the elements of combat power. All chapters adhere to
the aim of contributing to our body of knowledge and assisting the force.
A project of this type does not just happen, and I am grateful to the
authors who chose to put themselves out there and to the many peers and
colleagues who critically reviewed their work. I also wish to thank Dennis
S. Burket, the current Gen. George S. Patton Jr. Chair of Tactical Studies,
for his exceptional dedication to the quality and production of what we
intend to be an ongoing publication from DTAC.

Jim Dunivan
Colonel, Armor
Former Director
Department of Tactics (DTAC)
US Army Command and General Staff College

iii
 Acknowledgments

This book could not have been written without the commitment of
many Department of Army Tactics (DTAC) faculty members to see this
project through to completion. Writing for publication is a difficult and
time-consuming task under normal conditions. Individual contributors to
this book worked on their chapters during peak teaching and grading peri-
ods, finding the time to research and produce quality work.
I want to thank all of the subject-matter experts who took the time to
peer-review each contributor’s work and offer constructive criticism. Our
dynamic doctrine necessitates that professionals current in their field scru-
tinize individual works before they are published.
This book would be of less quality without the selfless contributions
of three DTAC faculty members who were instrumental in bringing this
book to fruition: Rick Baillergeon, Brian Leakey, and Mark Williams.
Rick Baillergeon brought his extensive experience in writing articles for
publication, Brian Leakey his deep knowledge of US Army doctrine, and
Mark Williams his mastery of writing. I am indebted to these gentlemen
for their timely review of submitted chapters and their focused recommen-
dations to contributors.
I would like to acknowledge the US Army Command and Staff Col-
lege Press—specifically Donald P. Wright, Deputy Director, Army Uni-
versity Press (AUP), and Diane R. Walker, AUP editor—for their advice
and support in this effort.
Finally, but not least, this book would not have happened without the
leadership and vision of Col. James Dunivan, former Director, DTAC.
This work is the outcome of his vision of a book written by the DTAC
faculty that will add to the professional body of knowledge.

Dennis S. Burket
Gen. George S. Patton Jr. Chair of Tactical Studies
Department of Tactics (DTAC)
US Army Command and General Staff College

v
 Contents page

Foreword................................................................................................... iii
Acknowledgments...................................................................................... v
Introduction................................................................................................ 1
Chapter 1—The Evolution of the Division Formation
by Dennis S. Burket................................................................................... 7
Chapter 2—Large-Scale Combat Operations: Relearning an Old Concept
by Lt. Col. James D. Scrogin................................................................... 19
Chapter 3—Operations in the Security Area
by Marty M. Leners................................................................................. 41
Chapter 4—Operational Framework: Enabling Tempo and Decision-Making
by Edward V. Rowe................................................................................. 55
Chapter 5—Consolidating Gains at the Division
by Kenneth J. Miller................................................................................ 63
Chapter 6—Division Intelligence: Looking Deep to Win Close
by Robert S. Mikaloff.............................................................................. 73
Chapter 7—Fire Support in Division Large-Scale Combat Operations:
Shifting the Focus from Counterinsurgency-Centric Fires
by Lt. Col. Michael D. Vick..................................................................... 83
Chapter 8—Information Operations at the Division Echelon
by Russell G. Conrad............................................................................. 103
Chapter 9—US Army Aviation: Setting Conditions, Creating Effects
across the Operational Framework in Large-Scale Combat Operations
by Lt. Col. Jason A. King....................................................................... 121
Chapter 10—The Return of Large-Scale Combat Operations:
River Crossing Operations
by Jonathan M. Williams....................................................................... 137
Chapter 11—Engineer Support to Large-Scale Defensive Operations
by Lt. Col. Sean A. Wittmeier................................................................ 151

vii
 page

Chapter 12—Mobility Operations in the Offense

by Lt. Col. Andrew A. Thueme.............................................................. 163
Chapter 13—Transitions: Adapting to Change in Division
Large-Scale Combat Operations
by Frederick A. Baillergeon................................................................... 175
Chapter 14—Living with the Dead: Casualties and Consequences
in Large-Scale Combat Operations
by Col. James K. Dunivan..................................................................... 195
Chapter 15—Controlling Chaos: Mission Command
in Large-Scale Combat Operations
by Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe....................................................................211
Chapter 16—Mission Command and the Division Fight
by Gregory M. Thomas.......................................................................... 245
Chapter 17—Interoperability in Large-Scale Combat Operations
by Albert C. Stahl................................................................................... 261
Chapter 18—Large-Scale Combat Operations in Urban Terrain
by Michael T. Chychota......................................................................... 279
Contributors........................................................................................... 301

viii
 Figures page

Figure 1.1 Current Active Duty US Army Divisions............................... 13

Figure 2.1. The NKPA Seizes the Initiative............................................. 24
Figure 2.2. The Pusan Perimeter.............................................................. 25
Figure 2.3. United Nations Forces Set the Tempo................................... 26
Figure 2.4. Frontline of UN Forces during the Korean Conflict.............. 37
Figure 3.1. Corps Area of Operations within a Theater of Operations.... 45
Figure 3.2. Corps Contiguous Area Defense........................................... 47
Figure 3.3. Reconnaissance and Security Interactions with Military
Decision-Making Process (MDMP)........................................................ 49
Figure 3.4. Corps Main Battle Area with Proposed Unit Responsibilities
for Security Operations............................................................................ 51
Figure 5.1. Consolidating Gains after Large-Scale Combat Operations...64
Figure 7.1. A 155-mm Howitzer in World War II.................................... 84
Figure 7.2. Rocket Projector Strength...................................................... 85
Figure 7.3 Self-Propelled Artillery Strength............................................ 86
Figure 7.4. Westervelt Board Interwar Years (1919–39) Chief of Artillery
with American Expeditionary Force (AEF) Staff.......................................87
Figure 7.5. M142 High-Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS). .89
Figure 7.6. Navy F/A-18E Super Hornet from the Flight Deck.............. 98
Figure 8.1. Division Information Operations Assets............................. 106
Figure 8.2. Information Operations Capabilities Grouped by Warfighting
Function................................................................................................. 108
Figure 10.1. Army Units Conduct River Crossing Training.................. 138
Figure 10.2. Litter Bearers Bring Back Wounded during Attempt to Span
Rapido River near Cassino, Italy, on 23 January 1944.............................139

ix
 page

Figure 10.3. Bridge Erection Boats (BEBs)........................................... 141

Figure 10.4. Graphic Control Measures................................................. 143
Figure 10.5. Tanks Cross River on Float Bridge.................................... 144
Figure 10.6. Stabilization Forces Units Conduct River Crossing
Operations across the Sava River in the Balkans................................... 147
Figure 11.1. Framework as Model for Application of Engineer Effort...153
Figure 11.2. Division Obstacle Graphics............................................... 157
Figure 12.1. Engineers from 11th Engineer Battalion in Rubber Boats
Cross the Euphrates River at Objective Peach on 2 April 2003............ 164
Figure 12.2. Engineers from 10th Engineer Battalion Detonate a Mine
Clearing Line Charge during Live-Fire Exercise................................... 165
Figure 12.3. Mobility Planning Considerations. ................................... 169
Figure 12.4. Considerations by Warfighting Function. ......................... 173
Figure 13.1. Transitioning to Offense Using Forces Already in Contact,
Positioned Forward..................................................................................185
Figure 13.2. Transitioning to Offense Using Forces Not in Contact..... 186
Figure 13.3. Transitioning to Defense by Pushing Security Area Forward
and Defending Where Halted................................................................. 190
Figure 13.4. Transitioning to Defense by Placing Security Area Where
Attack Halted......................................................................................... 191
Figure 14.1. Route of Attack by Kampfgrüppe Peiper.......................... 196
Figure 14.2. Bodies of US Officers Slain after Capture near Malmedy,
Belgium, 11 December 1944................................................................. 201
Figure 14.3. Student Officers during 2017 Battle of the Bulge Staff Ride
near Bullingen, Belgium........................................................................ 207
Figure 15.1. Delayed Counterattack by French X Corps Reserves....... 216

x
 page

Figure 15.2. Egyptian Deployments in the Sinai................................... 220

Figure 15.3. Israel’s Attack in Northern Sinai....................................... 222
Figure 15.4. Israel’s Attack at Um Katif................................................ 226
Figure 15.5. Kuwait and Vicinity, the Liberation of Kuwait,
24–26 February 1991............................................................................. 230
Figure 16.1. The 2nd Brigade Combat Team “Thunder Run.”.............. 257
Figure 17.1. Levels of Interoperability.................................................. 264
Figure 17.2. 1st Marine Division Task Organization............................. 268
Figure 17.3. Maj. Gen. Richard F. Natonski Briefs Task Force 2-2
(US Army) Company Commanders Prior to Battle............................... 270
Figure 18.1. Urban Operations Framework Tenets................................ 283
Figure 18.2: The Multidimensional Urban Battlefield........................... 285
Figure 18.3. Urban Operations Terrain Surfaces................................... 285
Figure 18.4. Fan and Funnel Effect........................................................ 290
Figure 18.5. Battle of Ortona Map......................................................... 293
Figure 18.6. Battle of Santa Maria Infante Map, 1944.......................... 294
Figure 18.7. Battle of Manila Map, 1945............................................... 295

xi
 Introduction

The art of tactics consists of three interrelated aspects: the cre-

ative and flexible array of means to accomplish missions, deci-
sion-making under conditions of uncertainty when faced with a
thinking and adaptive enemy, and understanding the effects of
combat on soldiers.1
—Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-90, Offense and Defense
The Art of Tactics is a Department of Army Tactics (DTAC) series fo-
cused on warfighting at the brigade through corps echelons. The intended
audience for this book is field grade officers who plan and execute ground
combat operations. This first Art of Tactics volume is titled Large-Scale
Combat Operations: The Division Fight. Chapters were written by DTAC
faculty members then peer-reviewed by subject matter experts within or
outside of the Tactics Department. Future volumes will have different
themes, but all will be grounded in combined arms operations.
During the last two decades, our adversaries watched closely as the
US Army shifted from a focus on conventional combined arms maneu-
ver training to one of executing stability and counterinsurgency (COIN)
operations, mainly in the US Central Command (CENTCOM) area of op-
erations. While the US Army was adapting to fighting in this operation-
al environment, our adversaries studied us and developed capabilities to
counter conventional warfighting advantages we had taken for granted.
The US Army decided that to counter emerging threats, it needed an up-
dated operational doctrine that used existing technology, force structure,
and capabilities.
In October of 2017, the US Army published a new version of its cap-
stone doctrinal manual, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations. This new
doctrine returned the warfighting focus to large-scale combat operations
(LSCO) against a peer threat and added the consolidation area to the opera-
tional framework. With this new doctrine came the need to shift the culture
of the Army from its focus on stability and counterinsurgency operations
to relearning the skills needed to conduct LSCO. The need to inculcate this
change throughout the Army created the need for professional works such
as this book.
This book serves several purposes. First, it will help inform the in-
tended audience about the transition from stability operations to LSCO.
Second, it will help the audience understand the division’s fight against
peer threats on an extended battlefield. And third, it will promote and
1
support the professional development of the Department of Army Tactics
(DTAC) faculty.
This compendium is organized into eighteen stand-alone chapters.
Each chapter was written by a different author with a different style and
focus. Some used historical vignettes to better the reader’s understand-
ing, while others used graphics or quotes; all focused on how the division
fights in large-scale combat operations.
Chapter 1, “The Evolution of the Division Formation,” discusses the
primary role of the division headquarters in large-scale combat operations
as a tactical headquarters and how the division shapes operations for the
subordinate brigades, resources the brigades for missions, and coordi-
nates, synchronizes, and sequences operations in terms of time, space, and
purpose.
Chapter 2, “Large-Scale Combat Operations: Relearning an Old
Concept,” describes the difference in characteristics between limited con-
tingency operations and large-scale combat operations and examines a
historical case study in which the characteristics of large-scale combat
operations manifest themselves.
Chapter 3, “Operations in the Security Area,” discusses security area
operations as they pertain to large-scale combat operations and proposes
potential near-term and long-range solutions to counter threat forces oper-
ating in this contested area.
Chapter 4, “Operational Framework: Enabling Tempo and Deci-
sion-Making,” describes how a division commander can use the opera-
tional framework to delineate areas of responsibility as well as explaining
the purposes of different activities, resource allocation, and what activities
will occur in time, space, and purpose.
Chapter 5, “Consolidating Gains at the Division,” focuses on current
Army division doctrine for consolidating gains after large-scale combat
operations and the utilization of the support area command post as a means
to synchronize the various tactical tasks necessary to assist divisions with
consolidating gains.
Chapter 6, “Division Intelligence: Looking Deep to Win Close,” sets
the context and perspective of intelligence support to a division and a divi-
sion commander. It is a discussion of the role of intelligence in the resurgent
division headquarters as a starting point for understanding how intelligence
supports the division commander and subordinate brigade combat teams.

2
 Chapter 7, “Fire Support in Division Large-Scale Combat Opera-
tions: Shifting the Focus from Counterinsurgency-Centric Fires,” analyzes
current US Army field artillery structure, doctrine, training, and manning.
It compares and contrasts the similarities between a 1942 battle and now,
with a specific focus on the Fires warfighting function in division-level
operations in large-scale combat operations.
Chapter 8, “Information Operations at the Division Echelon,” dis-
cusses the conduct of information operations according to the concepts of
unified land operations as defined by the new FM 3-0, paying particular
attention to the division echelon. It discusses the division as the lowest tac-
tical echelon that has a robust enough staff and force structure to employ
all aspects of information operations.
Chapter 9, “US Army Aviation- Setting Conditions and Creating Ef-
fects across the Operational Framework in Large-Scale Combat Opera-
tions,” addresses how Army Aviation, a critical component of combined
arms maneuver, must understand how to apply, integrate, and synchronize
the capabilities of Army Aviation in large-scale combat operations. It ex-
plains how the transition to FM 3-0, Operations, must be most prevalent
at the Army’s primary tactical headquarters for commanding brigades in
decisive action—the division.
Chapter 10, “The Return of Large-Scale Combat Operations: River
Crossing Operations,” revisits doctrine for the enduring mission require-
ment to conduct river crossings in light of the new FM 3-0, Operations,
and the focus on large-scale combat operations. Using a World War II ex-
ample, it discusses training to prepare leaders to execute this difficult task.
Chapter 11, “Engineer Support to Large-Scale Defense Operations,”
explains how the unique capabilities of engineer organizations support
defensive operations in large-scale combat operations through the exam-
ination of updated doctrine in FM 3-0, Operations, and the use of histor-
ical examples.
Chapter 12, “Mobility Operations in the Offense,” examines new
doctrine in FM 3-0, Operations, through the use of a historical vignette.
This chapter discusses mobility operations in the offense and provides
commander and staff considerations for planning and execution of those
operations at the division and higher level.
Chapter 13, “Transitions: Adapting to Change in Division Large-
Scale Operations,” focuses on change as it relates to a division conducting
large-scale combat operations. It looks at both transitioning from offensive

3
to defensive combat operations and the transition from defensive to offen-
sive combat operations.
Chapter 14, “Living with the Dead: Casualties and Consequences in
Large-Scale Combat,” acknowledges the inevitable potential for massive
numbers of casualties and unimaginably uncomfortable consequences that
can and will likely occur, especially during the high-intensity chaos of
large-scale combat operations. In preparing for war, we have a distinct
obligation to prepare for the worst.
Chapter 15, “Controlling Chaos: Rethinking Mission Command,” is
about commanding divisions and corps in large-scale combat operations.
Its purpose is to help commanders and staff officers think about how to
command and control these formations in combat against capable near-
peer competitors.
Chapter 16, “Mission Command and the Division Fight,” discusses
the philosophy of mission command and its role in large-scale combat oper-
ations. The first part of this chapter explores mission command. The second
part provides an understanding of how mission command is incorporated
into large-scale combat operations while examining the idea of initiative.
Chapter 17, “Interoperability in Large-Scale Combat Operations,”
describes interoperability in current doctrinal terms, illuminates interop-
erability friction points, and then briefly discusses the levels of interoper-
ability. The reader will gain an understanding of how the Army, as part of
the joint force, approaches interoperability.
Chapter 18, “The Division Fight in Urban Terrain,” explains how a
division fighting in a large-scale combat operation in an urban environ-
ment performs the same functions as a division performing in any other
terrain. However, those functions differ depending on three variables: the
dimensions of the urban terrain, the density of the urban terrain, and the
higher order of effects of the urban terrain.
This book is dedicated to field grade officers who plan and execute
ground combat operations.

4
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-90 (Wash-
ington, DC: 2019), 1-9.

5
 Chapter 1
The Evolution of the Division Formation
Dennis S. Burket

Throughout much of the history of the United States Army, the division
formation has played a key wartime role. From the Civil War to current op-
erations, our Army has fielded many different types and variations of combat
divisions, each designed to defeat the threats of their time. Starting with the
World War I division, the constant has been that these organizations were
designed to be capable of executing independent operations. This first chap-
ter provides context for the rest of the book by examining the current US
Army division formation in terms of its roles and responsibilities in large-
scale combat operations (LSCO).1 The discussion begins with an overview
of past division organizations and then explores current division organiza-
tion roles and responsibilities—what the division is and what it does.
The Division-Based Army
The United States Army first used divisions during the Revolution-
ary War when Gen. George Washington created them as administrative
commands.2 During the Civil War, divisions supported corps and were
numbered as such: 1st, 2nd, and 3rd division, but there were no tables
of organization for divisions.3 European armies were fielding permanent
divisions by the 1890s, but there were no permanent US combat divisions
until the National Defense Act of 1916.4 Prior to 1916, division formations
were created and then disbanded when no longer needed.
The 1905 version of the United States Army Field Service Regulations
(FSR) is recognized as the first Combined Arms doctrine published by the
US Army.5 Previous to the 1905 FSR, US officers relied upon European
doctrinal publications or doctrinal references that were published by in-
dividual army branches, i.e., the infantry, cavalry, or artillery.6 The 1905
FSR pre-World War I division was both a tactical and an administrative
unit that formed the basis of US Army organization. It was to be “com-
plete in all its parts and capable of acting independently at any time.”7
Organized as regiments during peacetime, in time of war both regular and
militia troops were to be organized into brigades, divisions, corps, and
armies. Similar to the components of a current combat division, a 1905
division consisted of three brigades of infantry, one regiment of cavalry,
nine batteries of field artillery, one battalion of engineers, one company of
signal corps, four field hospitals, and associated supply trains.

7
 The United States declared war on the Central Powers in April 1917
and the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) begin arriving in France
mid-1917. Prior to the deployment of US forces, the French and British
armies sent delegations to the United States with the hope of coordinat-
ing for American forces to be integrated into other Allied units. The AEF
commander, Gen. John J. Pershing, decided against this integration effort
necessitating the design of a standardized AEF division and staff to quick-
ly grow divisions capable of independent operations. By the end of the
war in November 1918, the US Army had deployed forty-two divisions to
fight in France.
General Pershing created divisions that were organized to maintain
their momentum during offensive operations, not fight the attrition-style
trench warfare that the British and French armies wanted the AEF to adopt.
To accomplish this, Pershing chose to field divisions of 28,000 officers and
men that were much larger than those of the other armies fighting on the
western front. The WWI British division was about 15,000 officers and
men while the French and German divisions were about 12,000 each.
The large AEF divisions consisted of two infantry brigades of two
regiments each, a field artillery brigade of three regiments, three machine-
gun battalions, an engineer battalion, and a signal battalion. Pershing de-
veloped a standardized division staff structure or table of organization for
his divisions consisting of twenty-nine officers and 135 enlisted men. To
meet the demand for staff officers experienced at planning and conducting
corps and division-sized offensive operations, the Staff College at Fort
Leavenworth was closed and replaced with the quickly created Army Gen-
eral Staff College (AGSC) in Langres, France. The AGSC conducted four
courses during 1917–18, each about three months in length.8
The 1918 FSR grouped land forces under two headings: the Mobile
Army and the Coast Artillery. The Mobile Army was designed for offensive
operations in Europe and as its name implied, it was designed to have the
maximum degree of mobility possible. The basis of organization for the
mobile army was the division: “A division is a self-contained unit made
up of all necessary arms and services, and complete in itself with every
requirement for independent action incident to ordinary operations.”9
During WWI, sixty-four divisions were created following a numbering
system that has continued with a few exceptions. The numbers one to
twenty-five were reserved for the Regular Army; numbers twenty-six to
forty-five for the National Guard; and numbers forty-six to 106 for the
Army of the United States.10

8
 Between WWI and WWII, the 1930 version of Field Manual (FM)
100-15, Large Units, described the composition and characteristics of an
infantry division as:
[T]he unit by which the army corps executes its maneuvers and
engages the enemy in battle. It is the basic large unit, of which
the corps and armies are formed. It is the largest permanent unit.
It is the largest unit in which officers learn to know one another
well enough to form a closely knit organization. It is the smallest
unit that is composed of all the essential arms and services, that is
designed to be tactically and administratively self-sustaining, and
that can conduct, by its own means, operations of general impor-
tance. . . . It is the organization which officers and men love and
cherish and about which their recollections cluster in aftertimes. It
is therefore the unit which promotes morale and a spirit of service.
It forms a whole which should never be broken up.11
The 15 June 1944 version of FM 100-5, Operations, described the
WWII infantry division as “the basis of organization of the field force”
while the armored division was described as the “basic large armored unit of
the combined arms.”12 Both were tactically and administratively self-con-
tained and capable of independent action “to a considerable extent.” The
1944 infantry division was designed with the ability to operate with other
services and conduct combined arms operations “over a considerable peri-
od of time” and to “absorb reinforcing units easily.” The armored division
was designed for “offensive operations against hostile rear areas” and to
execute “decisive missions” requiring great mobility and firepower. During
WWII the US Army mobilized ninety-one divisions: sixty-one infantry,
sixteen armored, five airborne, two cavalry, and one mountain.
During the Korean War, the US Army mobilized twenty divisions:
fifteen infantry, two airborne, two armored, and one cavalry. Only eight
of these divisions participated in combat on the Korean peninsula. These
were triangular divisions that were designed like and fought like the divi-
sions of WWII but were augmented with Korean soldiers in the ranks.13
After the Korean War, Army Chief of Staff Gen. Matthew B. Ridgeway
saw the need for divisions that were less vulnerable to “atomic” attack. He
directed a new organization with divisions that were more mobile, flex-
ible, and could sustain operations where organic units were farther dis-
tances apart.14 One outcome of this redesign was the “pentomic division”
that eliminated infantry regiments as tactical units and replaced them with
flexible combined arms brigades.

9
 In 1961, President John F. Kennedy, no longer thinking that general
nuclear war was likely, led in the creation of what became known as the
doctrine of “flexible response:”
I am directing the Secretary of Defense to undertake a reorgani-
zation and modernization of the Army’s divisional structure, to
increase its non-nuclear firepower, to improve its tactical mobility
in any environment, to ensure its flexibility to meet any direct or
indirect threat, to facilitate its coordination with our major allies,
and to provide more modern mechanized divisions in Europe and
bring their equipment up to date, and [provide] new airborne bri-
gades to both the Pacific and Europe.15
The outcome of this reorganization was the end of pentomic divisions
and the creation of divisions designed with a standardized base that could
easily be tailored for specific threats with the addition of interchangeable
infantry, mechanized, armor, or airborne battalions. These reorganization
objective army divisions (ROAD) were popular with the Army because of
the ability to tailor brigade-size task forces with a mix of combat battalions
from within the division.16 In 1965—the year President Lyndon B. John-
son committed Regular Army combat troops to South Vietnam—the Army
had forty-five divisions: sixteen Regular Army (eight stationed overseas),
twenty-three National Guard, and six Army Reserve.
During the Vietnam War years of 1965 to 1973, the ROAD concept
of tailoring units for specific missions had been proven to be effective.
After the war in Vietnam, the Army reverted to an all-volunteer force and
transitioned to the “Total Army” which used National Guard battalions and
brigades to “round out” Regular Army divisional units. By the end of 1978,
the Army was organized as twenty-four divisions and twenty-four brigades.
Greatly influenced by the outcome of the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, the
US Army adopted the AirLand Battle (ALB) doctrine with the publishing
of the 1982 version on FM 100-5, Operations. The focus of ALB doctrine
was simultaneous engagement of the first and second echelons of an at-
tacking Soviet force. By the time of Operation Desert Storm in 1991, the
“Big 5” weapons systems considered necessary to conduct ALB had been
fielded, providing divisions with much greater firepower.17 Seven US divi-
sions, operating as part of two US corps, conducted large-scale operations
using ALB doctrine during Operation Desert Storm with great success.18
During Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003, the US Army 3rd Infantry Di-
vision, operating as part of V Corps, conducted large-scale combat op-
erations during “the march up country” using essentially the same ALB
doctrine and equipment and again realizing great tactical success.
10
Conversion to a Brigade-Centric Force
In 2003, Army Chief of Staff Gen. Peter Schoomaker made the deci-
sion to convert the Army to a modular, brigade-based force.19 Schoomak-
er’s initial guidance included analyzing the possible elimination of one
of the three echelons above brigade by consolidating the functions of the
division, corps, and field army into two Units of Employment. After ex-
tensive analysis by Task Force Modularity, in October 2005 the decision
to retain all three echelons was formally announced.20 The Army soon
became brigade-centric, optimized for stability and counterinsurgency
(COIN) operations generated by way of the Force Generation Model.
Several reasons were given for changing from what had been a divi-
sion-based force since WWI to a brigade-based force: 1) the brigade had
become the planning and deployment echelon for Afghanistan and Iraq,
2) brigade combat teams (BCTs) were routinely being moved around in
Iraq and placed under the operational control of different headquarters,
3) divisions often controlled BCTs that did not wear their division patch,
and 4) the Army could grow from sixty-nine total maneuver brigades to
between seventy-seven and eighty-two BCTs, helping reduce the tempo of
operations—how much time BCTs had between deployments.
As early as 2009, officers deployed as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom
recognized the need for a return to division-centric organizations:
The Army is at a crossroads. Do we continue to remain fixated on
brigade combat teams? Or do we expand our thinking to include not
only combat teams but also divisions operating in complex and dy-
namic environments? We will continue to build, train, and deploy
extremely capable brigade combat teams, but the Army must now
give division-level operations their due by resourcing and shaping
the modern division headquarters for full spectrum operations.21
Return to a Division-Based Force
In 2014, the Russian Federation attacked and then annexed part of the
Ukraine. The tactics and techniques used by the Russians during this con-
flict and aggressive activities from countries like China, Iran, and North
Korea alerted us that while our Army was executing COIN and stability op-
erations in Iraq and Afghanistan, our adversaries had observed us and iden-
tified gaps in our ability to execute LSCO.22 The four-year Combined Arms
Center (CAC) LSCO Study determined that “the scale, tempo, lethality, and
complexity of large-scale MD [multi-domain] combat operations required
significant changes in how we equip, organize, and structure the force to

11
enable the Army to prevail against peer threats in contested domains—in
both the fielded and future force.”23 Lt. Gen. Michael D. Lundy, CAC com-
mander, explained, “The proliferation of advanced technologies, the ad-
versary’s emphasis on training and modernization, and the ever-increasing
speed of human interaction make large-scale ground combat against a peer
threat more likely today than at any point in the last two decades.”24
In 2016, Gen. Mark A. Milley, US Army Chief of Staff, directed the US
Army Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC) to revise the capstone
publication FM 3-0, Operations (2011), to provide the needed doctrinal
basis for defeating peer enemies in LSCO.25 The resulting publication of
the October 2017 version of FM 3-0, Operations, returned the Army to a
division-based force where the division once again operated as a fighting
formation that employs subordinate units instead of only functioning as
their stationary headquarters.26 Because it was one of the Army’s two cap-
stone doctrine publications—the other being Field Manual (FM) 1, The
Army—this version of FM 3-0 necessitated revisions of most of the other
doctrinal publications.27
The Current Division Formation
Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-0, Operations, published in July
2019 is the Army’s current doctrinal basis for prevailing in LSCO. A depar-
ture from previous capstone manuals, this ADP 3-0 is focused on fighting
in the current operational environment against current peer or near-peer ad-
versaries.28 Corps and subordinate divisions are again the primary tactical
formations for the conduct of LSCO, a change from the modular organiza-
tion where divisions were usually just stationary headquarters. No longer
focused on a BCT-centric fight, corps and divisions with associated capa-
bilities are now intended to be the most decisive organizations in LSCO.
The current division is organized to perform four roles: 1) as a tactical
headquarters under a corps commanding brigades in decisive action (DA),
2) a platform around which joint and/or multinational headquarters can be
formed, 3) an Army force (ARFOR) headquarters within a joint task force,
and 4) a platform around which a Joint Task Force (JTF) can be formed
for limited contingency operations.29 Of these, the primary role for the
division is the first one described: a tactical headquarters employing bri-
gades in large-scale ground combat operations that combine continuous,
simultaneous combinations of offensive, defensive, and stability tasks (de-
cisive action).30 Historical designations of current divisions do not always
reflect the capabilities of subordinate forces task-organized under them
(see Figure 1.1).31

12
 XX
Current Ac�ve Duty 4 ID
US Army Divisions
4th Infantry Division
XX XX
1 AD 7 ID

1st Armored Division 7th Infantry Division (HQ)

XX XX
1 CD 10 MD

1st Cavalry Division 10th Mountain Division

XX XX
1 ID 25 ID

1st Infantry Division 25th Infantry Division

XX XX
2 ID 82 ABN

2nd Infantry Division 82nd Airborne Division

XX XX
3 ID 101 ABN

3rd Infantry Division 101st Airborne Division

Figure 1.1 Current Active Duty US Army Divisions. Created by Damien E. Fosmoe.

Although there is no standard LSCO configuration for current divi-

sions, to conduct independent combined arms operations the division re-
quires division artillery (DIVARTY), a combat aviation brigade, an en-
hanced-military intelligence brigade (E-MIB), a maneuver enhancement
brigade with engineer battalions, and a sustainment brigade. The higher
corps commander determines the number and types of BCTs and allocates
additional enabling capabilities needed based on assigned missions. Divi-
sion formations have responsibilities associated with the conduct of large-
scale combat operations:
• Conduct shaping operations within the division area of operations
(AO).
• Task-organize and employ BCTs and multi-functional brigades.
13
 • Integrate and synchronize operations of BCTs and multi-functional
brigades.
• Mass effects at decisive points.
• Allocate resources and set priorities.
• Leverage joint capabilities.32
The division sets tactical conditions necessary for the success of its
decisive operation by conducting shaping operations within its assigned
AO. This includes shaping operations twenty-four to ninety-six hours out
in time and space to attrit or destroy enemy forces not yet in contact with
friendly units.33 Divisions are capable of conducting multiple shaping op-
erations simultaneously, each focused on achieving the purpose of the de-
cisive operation. If the division designates a consolidation area, the higher
corps provides an additional dedicated BCT. This BCT operates similar
to a brigade tasked to conduct a follow-and-support mission; it defeats
bypassed forces, controls key terrain and facilities, and secures population
centers. These consolidation of gains operations provide freedom of action
for units conducting the division’s decisive, shaping, and sustainment op-
erations and assist in maintaining momentum.
BCTs are the striking power of the US Army in combined arms opera-
tions. The division employs between two and five BCTs, nesting their pur-
poses with that of the units conducting the decisive operation. Divisions
task-organize and employ a mix of BCT types, both organic and those
allocated from corps including National Guard units. The capabilities of
multi-functional brigades are employed—providing mobility, protection,
and sustainment assets needed to ensure momentum is maintained.
The division integrates its capabilities (the warfighting functions,
WfFs) by way of integrating processes in order to synchronize the actions
of subordinate units in time, space, and purpose to produce maximum
relative combat power at a decisive place and time. Along with the inte-
grating cells, the continuing integrating processes of the military decision
making process (MDMP), intelligence preparation of the battlefield (IPB),
information collection, targeting, risk management, and knowledge man-
agement (KM) ensure integration of all available capabilities. The divi-
sion commander follows a battle rhythm of logically sequenced meetings
where the output of one informs the next meeting and decisions are made
based on the results of the integration processes and guidance is given for
current and future operations.

14
 Attacking decisive points is the way to access the enemy’s center of
gravity (COG). Divisions determine the decisive point(s) of the operation
and mass the effects of combat power, not units to achieve it. The decisive
operation is developed around an accessible decisive point. If the division
lacks the needed operational reach to achieve a decisive point, it may have
to conduct an operational pause to set conditions by building up needed
overwhelming combat power. BCTs participating in the decisive operation
are usually weighted by more combat power, given priority of Army and
Joint enablers, or given a smaller frontage or AO in which to its focus
combat power.
The division allocates resources and set priorities for its subordinate
units. The division commander designates main and supporting efforts to
establish clear priorities of support and resources among subordinate units
and shifts them as necessary. According to the 2019 ADP 3-0, Operations,
“The main effort is a designated subordinate unit whose mission at a given
point in time is critical to overall mission success.”34 The main effort des-
ignation temporarily prioritizes support and resource allocation to meet the
commander’s intent. The unit with primary responsibility for the decisive
operation becomes the main effort upon execution of the decisive operation.
Unified Land Operations is the Army’s operational concept and contri-
bution to unified action. The goal of unified land operations is to establish
conditions that achieve the joint force commander’s (JFC) end state by the
application of landpower as part of unified action.35 To accomplish this,
the division leverages joint capabilities and is “the first echelon able to
effectively plan and coordinate the employment of multi-domain capabil-
ities across the operational framework.”36 The division conveys require-
ments through the corps for joint shaping and controls ground forces while
synchronizing joint combat power in support of the JFC’s goals.
The division formation has played a key wartime role since the be-
ginning of our Army. It has continually evolved to meet the challenges
presented by an ever-changing operational environment while remaining
the largest independent tactical formation. During the Cold War years (2
September 1945 to 26 December 1991), the US was part of a strong North
Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and had forward-deployed divisions
and corps in Europe. Now as part of an expeditionary army which is part
of the joint force, the current division, as part of a corps, is organized to
prevail in sustained ground combat against identified adversaries in the
current operating environment.

15
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, change 1
(Washington, DC: 2017), 2-13.
2. John B. Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower: The Evolution of Divisions
and Separate Brigades (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 1998), 3.
3. United States Army Regulations of 1861 with an appendix containing
the changes and laws affecting army regulations and articles of war to June 25,
1863 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1863), 480.
4. Russell Frank Weigley, History of the United States Army, vol. 323
(Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984), 37–38.
5. Walter Edward Kretchik, US Army Doctrine: From the American Revolu-
tion to the War on Terror (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas: 2011), 113.
6. Napoleonic concepts of organization were translated for use by American
officers during the Civil War; see for example: Silas Casey, Infantry Tactics:
for the instruction, exercise, and manœuvres of the soldier, a company, line of
skirmishers, battalion, brigade, or corps d’armée, vol. 2 (New York: D. Van
Nostrand, 1862).
7. War Department Document No. 241, Field Service Regulations United
States Army (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1905), 13.
8. James G. Harbord, The American Expeditionary Forces: Its Organization
and Accomplishments (Evanston, IL: Evanston Publishing, 1929), 66–67.
9. War Department Document No. 475, Field Service Regulations United
States Army (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1918), 10.
10. Before conversion to regular army airborne units during WWII, the
82nd and 101st divisions were part of the Organized Reserve. Kent Roberts
Greenfield et al., United States Army in World War II: The Army Ground Forces:
The Organization of Ground Combat Troops (Washington, DC: Historical Divi-
sion Department of the Army, 1947).
11. War Department, A Manual for Commanders of Large Units (Provisional)
Volume 1, FM 100-15 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1930), 39.
12. War Department, Field Manual (FM) 100-5, Field Service Regulations,
Operations (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1944), 297 and 305
passim.
13. Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, 240.
14. Wilson, 265.
15. From John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s, “Special Message to the Congress on
Urgent National Needs,” on 25 May 1961, before a joint session of Congress,
Section VI, Our own Military and Intelligence Shield; also known as the “Man
on the Moon Speech.” Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States, John
F. Kennedy: Containing the Public Messages, Speeches, and Statements of the
President, January 20, 1961 to November 22, 1963 (Washington, DC: Govern-
ment Printing Office, 1962).
16. Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, 318.

16
 17. The “Big 5” weapons systems consisted of the M1 Abrams tank, M2
Bradley Fighting Vehicle, AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopter, UH-60 Iroquois
Utility Helicopter, and Patriot Air Defense Missile System. The Multiple
Launch Rocket System (MLRS) was also fielded, but it was not part of the
original “Big 5.”
18. The XVIII Corps consisted of the 82nd Airborne Division, the 101st
Airborne Division (AASLT), and the 24th Infantry Division (Mech). The VII
Corps consisted of the 1st Armored Division, the 3rd Armored Division, the 1st
Cavalry Division, and the 1st Infantry Division (Mech).
19. William M. Donnelly, Transforming an Army at War: Designing the
Modular Force, 1991–2005 (Washington, DC: US Army Center of Military
History, 2007), 19.
20. Donnelly, 78.
21. Allen Batschelet, Gregory Meyer, and Mike Runey, “Breaking the
Tactical Fixation: The Division’s Role,” Military Review 89, no. 6 (November–
December 2009): 42.
22. Department of the Army, “Division Redesign, Operational and Orga-
nizational Concept 2020–2025,” US Army Combined Arms Center and the
Mission Command Center of Excellence, 22 August 2018, 2.
23. Combined Arms Center (CAC) Multi-Domain Large-Scale Combat
Operations (LSCO) Study, to be published by CAC in October 2019. This clas-
sified study analyzed four years of data from training, current operations, and
experimentation and identified capability/capacity gaps that must be addressed
in current and future forces.
24. Department of the Army, “Division Redesign,” 2.
25. Lt. Gen. Mike Lundy and Col. Rich Creed, “The Return of US Army
Field Manual 3-0, Operations,” Military Review 97, no.6 (November–December
2017): 14.
26. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 2-13.
27. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 1-01, Doc-
trine Primer (Washington, DC: 2019), 2-4 and v.
28. Lundy and Creed, “The Return of US Army Field Manual 3-0,” 16. Peer
and near-peer adversaries are Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea. FM 100-5
and AirLand Battle focused on one enemy, the USSR; previous iterations of FM
3-0 weren’t focused on a specific adversary.
29. An example for #1: the way most US divisions fought during Operation
Desert Storm and how the 3rd Infantry Division and the 101st Airborne Divi-
sion (AASLT) fought in Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 during the “march up
country.” Regarding #2, a division can become a JFLCC headquarters com-
manding Marine Corps units if augmented with Marines. Examples for #4: Task
Force 123, 82nd Airborne Division during Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada
1982, and the 10th Mountain Division, Combined Joint Task Force Mountain
during Operation Enduring Freedom, 2001–02.

17
 30. Department of the Army, Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-91, Divi-
sion Operations (Washington, DC: October 2014), 1-1.
31. For example: the 1st Cavalry Division and the 101st Airborne Division.
32. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 2-13.
33. The division inputs to the air tasking order (ATO) twenty-four to nine-
ty-six hours out.
34. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-0, Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2019), 4-6.
35. ADP 3-0, 3-1.
36. Lundy and Creed, “The Return of US Army Field Manual 3-0,” 16.

18
 Chapter 2
Large-Scale Combat Operations: Relearning an Old Concept
Lt. Col. James D. Scrogin

Over the last fifteen years the US Army’s involvement in limited contin-
gency operations (LCO) in Iraq and Afghanistan required the current cohort
of field grade officers, commissioned between 2001 and 2007, to focus on
executing stability and counterinsurgency (COIN) tasks. The tactical execu-
tion of those tasks was the primary responsibility of brigade combat teams
(BCTs), while divisions and corps focused on the operational level of war.
The introductory comments of the recently revised Field Manual (FM) 3-0,
Operations, necessitate the current cohort of field grades to participate in
a cultural shift: relearn an old concept and shift the focus for training and
operations away from LCO to large-scale combat operations (LSCO).1
This chapter describes the difference in characteristics between LCO
and LSCO and examines a historical case that exhibits and highlights the
characteristics of LSCO. The case study illuminates the concept of LSCO
and posits that its intrinsic characteristics, while potentially new to currently
serving field grade officers, are not new concepts in the annals of maneuver
warfare for the US Army. The observations and conclusions drawn from the
case study will assist these officers in reorienting the US Army’s operational
focus to LSCO and shift training to support this new focus.
Necessitating this shift is the emergence of near-peer competitors who
repeatedly demonstrate a proclivity to use their military forces aggressive-
ly in pursuit of their national strategic objectives. After closely studying
American operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, Russia, China, Iran, and
North Korea aggressively adapted, modernized, and developed capabili-
ties with an eye toward surpassing, or at least achieving parity with, Amer-
ican advantages in technology, equipment, and training.2 The publication
of the new FM 3-0, Operations, was in response to the activities of Russia,
China, Iran, and North Korea and the changes in the security environment.
This latest iteration of the US Army’s iconic operations manual provides a
baseline doctrine for how Army forces, as part of a joint team with unified
action partners, conducts large-scale combat operations.3 FM 3-0 focuses
on operations using current Army capabilities, formations, and technol-
ogy. FM 3-0 also provides overarching fundamental principles describ-
ing how all echelons work together to successfully conduct operations
across the spectrum of conflict, from limited contingency operations to
large-scale ground combat operations.4 Finally, FM 3-0 also introduces
19
the concept of working with joint partners, other military forces, and both
governmental and nongovernmental organizations to consolidate gains in
order to achieve strategic outcomes in today’s operational environment.5
Limited Contingency Operations
When currently serving field grade officers entered the Army in the
mid-2000s, training for operations in Iraq and Afghanistan centered on
stability or COIN tasks. Operational experiences and lessons learned in
Iraq and Afghanistan led to the 2006 publication of Field Manual (FM)
3-24, Counterinsurgency, the first new manual exclusively devoted to
COIN operations in more than twenty years.6 When the current cohort of
field grade officers attended their basic officer leader course, training fo-
cused on major combat operations rather than LCO and did not reflect the
reality of operations in Iraq or Afghanistan. Deploying almost immediate-
ly as platoon leaders into an operational environment for which they were
unprepared, these officers learned “as they went” and essentially imple-
mented the Army’s just-published doctrine for the first time, many without
having read the new doctrine first.
Shortly after the publication of the FM 3-24 and as current field grade
officers were starting to show success in LCO using FM 3-24 in Iraq and
Afghanistan, the Army published another new doctrinal field manual in
October 2008, an updated Field Manual (FM) 3-07, Stability Operations.
Again, the Army fielded an updated manual to help current field grade of-
ficers navigate the operational environment in Iraq and Afghanistan during
the years 2006–12. FM 3-07 characterized stability operations as military
operations to stabilize the environment long enough for the host nation to
begin resolving the root causes of conflict and state failure.7 As these field
grade officers deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan, they began conducting op-
erations in accordance with a lengthy list of stability tasks that generally
fell into three categories:
• Tasks for which forces retain primary responsibility.
• Tasks for which civilian agencies or organizations likely retain re-
sponsibility but military forces are prepared to execute.
• Tasks for which civilian agencies or organizations retain primary re-
sponsibility.8
Doctrine writers at the Combined Arms Center eventually refined the
list of stability tasks into the five primary stability tasks:
• Establish civil security.
• Establish civil control.
20
 • Restore essential services.
• Support governance.
• Support economic and infrastructure development.9
As operations continued in Afghanistan and then resumed in Iraq in
2014, the stability tasks became the guiding framework for current field
grade officers entering their captain years. The current cohort of field
grade officers used these stability tasks, as well as the previously intro-
duced COIN tasks, to prepare their units and themselves for operational
deployment. In general, these tasks served the US Army well during LCO.
Experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan taught current field grade officers
that LCO exhibited the following characteristics:
• US forces hold a relative position of advantage over their adversaries.
• Operations are methodical.
• Units of action are brigade or below.
• The largest forces at risk for catastrophic casualties are platoon sized
or smaller.
• Tempo of operations is sporadic.
• Violence is episodic.
• Divisions and corps operate at the strategic and operational level.
• US forces hold domain superiority.
• Restrictive rules of engagement (ROE) are designed to protect the
population and the infrastructure of the host nation.10
Field grade officers were prepared by their pre-commissioning sources
(i.e., the United States Military Academy and the Reserve Officer Training
Corps) to focus on major combat operations with the deliberate planning
and execution of offensive and defensive tasks. During their operational
deployments, they demonstrated an ability to think critically and creative-
ly as they learned to adapt the new doctrine developed in response to LCO
in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Large-Scale Combat Operations
In locations where the possibility of LSCO remains, the probability of
it occurring in the very near future remains low in spite of the emergence,
or re-emergence, of threats in the form of near-peer competitors: Russia,
China, Iran, and North Korea.11 However, the threat posed by these near-

21
peer competitors drove the introduction of the new FM 3-0 much like the
LCO in Iraq and Afghanistan drove the introduction of new and updated
FMs 3-24 and 3-07. In the case of LSCO, current field grade officers can
expect to find themselves conducting operations characterized by the fol-
lowing conditions:
• Operations conducted at an accelerated tempo as both sides attempt
to gain or maintain the initiative.
• An environment of chaos.
• Starting from a position of disadvantage, reacting to an attack con-
ducted by a near-peer adversary that US forces will have to reverse.
• Conflict across all domains: air, land, sea, space, and cyber.
• Exponential lethality when fighting against a near-peer adversary,
putting brigades and battalions at risk for catastrophic casualties.
• Units of action that are echelons above brigade—corps and divisions.
• ROE that is more permissive than in LCO.
• Operations conducted in conjunction with coalition partners, includ-
ing the attachment of advisors and enabling units to coalition formations.
• An operational framework that includes a consolidation area, which
is a designated portion of the commander’s area of operations designed to
facilitate stability or COIN tasks that allow freedom of action in the close
area and to support the consolidation of gains made by LSCO.12
In addition to these characteristics, the FM 3-0 writers envisioned an
environment where US Army forces defeat the enemy in order to achieve
campaign objectives and national strategic goals after the commencement
of hostilities.13 In order to defeat near-peer threats, US Army forces con-
duct decisive action to seize, retain, and exploit the initiative and con-
solidate gains. Decisive action involves the simultaneous orchestration of
many unit actions across multiple domains in order to defeat a near peer.14
While conducting LSCO, the demands to orchestrate unit actions will con-
sume the efforts of those field grade officers who serve on tactical staffs.
FM 3-0 uses multiple historical case studies and vignettes to illustrate
key points that the doctrine writers are trying to make. The remainder of
this chapter will apply the characteristics of LSCO, in the order previously
listed in this chapter, to a historical case study in order to illustrate that
these characteristics are not a new concept.

22
The Summer of 1950—The First Ninety Days of the Korean War
The possibility of LSCO on the Korean peninsula provides the oppor-
tunity to examine the 1950–53 Korean War, specifically, the first ninety
days of the conflict during the summer of 1950, for the purpose of apply-
ing the doctrine included in the new FM 3-0. This will allow a better un-
derstanding of the doctrine and its implications. This timeframe includes
the surprise invasion of South Korea by the North Korean People’s Army
(NKPA), the US Eighth Army’s desperate defense of the Pusan Perimeter,
the landing at Inchon by the US X Corps, and the subsequent transition
of US and United Nation (UN) forces from defense to offense. Despite
these events taking place more than a half century ago, the congruence of
the war’s early characteristics with those of the contemporary battlefield
described by the writers of the new FM 3-0 warrants an analysis to draw
parallels between what is “old” and what is “new” in an effort to present
the new doctrine relative to its application to the past.
Operations Conducted at an Accelerated Tempo
Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP) 3-0, Operations, pub-
lished in November 2016 describes tempo as the relative speed and rhythm
of military operations over time with the respect to the enemy.15 According
to US Army doctrine, rapid tempo serves to overwhelm an enemy’s ability
to counter friendly actions; by controlling tempo, commanders can main-
tain the initiative while controlling events and denying the enemy a posi-
tion of advantage.16 There is more to tempo than speed. While speed can
be important, the US Army aims to mitigate speed to achieve endurance
and optimize operational reach.17
During the Korean War, North Korean forces initially seized the ini-
tiative by operating at an accelerated tempo. In the early morning hours
of Sunday, 25 June 1950, ten NKPA divisions initiated a surprise attack
across the 38th parallel in a series of blows across the Korean peninsula
that progressed from west to east and caught the Republic of Korea (ROK)
Army by surprise.18 The timing of the attack, on a Sunday morning, caught
many ROK officers and their American advisors away from their frontline
units on pass in Seoul or other cities.19 The lack of present leadership,
coupled with the fact that the NKPA knew the location of every ROK unit,
contributed to the early success of the NKPA as they drove south toward
the ROK capital at Seoul.20 By the end of June, Seoul was in the hands of
the NKPA while their forces continued to advance south, pushing the ROK
Army and recently introduced US Army units into the “Pusan Perimeter,”

23
a natural defensive perimeter around the southeastern corner of the Korean
peninsula with the port city of Pusan at its far southeast corner.

Figure 2.1. The NKPA Seizes the Initiative. From Robert K. Sawyer, Military Advisors
in Korea: KMAG In Peace And War (Washington, DC: US Army Center of Military
History, 1992), 115.

In order to regain the initiative, General Douglas MacArthur, the com-

manding general of all UN forces in Korea, came up with an audacious
plan to launch an amphibious landing just south of Seoul at the port city
of Inchon. Considered the most brilliant stroke of the Korean War, US
X Corps landed at Inchon on 15 September 1950.21 The landing force,
consisting of 70,000 hastily assembled troops from the US 1st Marine
Division with an attached ROK Special Marine unit and the US 7th Infan-
try Division, faced little resistance in its effort to establish a beachhead.
Within twenty-four hours, the 1st Marine Division encircled Inchon.22 As
the ROK Special Marines began “mopping up” operations, the 1st Marine
Division began advancing on Seoul, only eighteen miles away.23 As the
1st Marine Division moved inland, the 7th Infantry started unloading at
Inchon and moved to the 1st Marine Division’s right flank to secure the
US X Corps southern flank in order to prevent the NKPA from re-tasking
a unit that was assaulting the Pusan Perimeter to attempt to repulse the X
Corps landings.24

24
 Figure 2.2. The Pusan Perimeter. From Roy Appleman, South to the Naktong, North to
the Yalu: United States Army in the Korean War (Washington, DC: US Army Center of
Military History, 1992), 236.
Only seven days after the landings at Inchon, on 22 September 1950,
US Eighth Army commander Gen. Walton Walker detected a decrease in
the tempo of NKPA attacks along his front and ordered his units to break
out of the Pusan Perimeter:
Enemy resistance has deteriorated along the EUSA [Eighth US
Army] front permitting the assumption of a general offensive
from present positions. In view of this situation it is mandatory

25
 that all efforts be directed toward the destruction of the enemy by
effecting deep penetrations, fully exploiting enemy weaknesses,
and through the conduct of enveloping or encircling maneuver get
astride enemy lines of withdrawal to cut his attempted retreat and
destroy him.25

Figure 2.3. United Nations Forces Set the Tempo. From James F. Schnabel, Policy and
Direction: The First Year; United States Army in the Korean War (Washington, DC: US
Army Center of Military History, 1992), 173.

26
 The newly formed US I Corps, consisting of the US 1st Cavalry Di-
vision, US 24th Infantry Division, ROK 1st Division, United Kingdom
(UK) 27th Infantry Brigade, and US 5th Regimental Combat Team, was
the US Eighth Army’s main effort with orders to attack through the towns
of Taegu, Kumch’on, Taejon, and Suwon.26 The axis of advance given to
the I Corps allowed the Eighth Army to link up with X Corps just south of
Seoul near Osan.27 On 28 September 1950, elements of X Corps crushed
the last NKPA attempts to hold Seoul. Just a few days after the recapture
of Seoul, US and ROK forces destroyed the last NKPA units in South
Korea near Uijonbu. In the span of two weeks, General MacArthur had
enveloped the NKPA, seized the initiative, forced the NKPA to react to the
tempo of UN forces, and destroyed the offensive capability of NKPA units
in South Korea.
An Environment of Hyper-Active Chaos
Chaos is defined as a state of utter confusion, a state of things in which
chance is supreme, or the inherent unpredictability of a complex natural
system.28 The definition of chaos as a state of things in which chance is
supreme parallels Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz’s dictum
that war is the realm of chance.29 Continuing with the theme of chance,
Clausewitz also states: “Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing
is difficult. The difficulties accumulate and end by producing friction. This
tremendous friction . . . is everywhere in contact with chance.”30 This is
the key to the characterization of large-scale combat as an environment
dominated by chaos brought on by an accelerated tempo of operations.
In theory, LSCO is simple to plan, but the friction caused by difficulties
inherent to chaos makes LSCO planning complicated. Current field grade
officers will benefit from understanding these difficulties. The Korean War
provides clear examples of the difficulties derived from chaos.
As the NKPA rolled across the 38th parallel, chaos in the form of
confusion and panic gripped the higher echelons of the ROK military and
government. A senior member of the ROK Ministry of Defense ordered
the destruction of the bridges across the Han River, located just south of
Seoul.31 This order countermanded an earlier agreement between Col. Wil-
liam Wright, Chief of Staff for the US Korean Military Advisor Group
(KMAG), and Maj. Gen. Chae Byong Duk, Deputy Commander of the
ROK Armed Forces, to not blow the bridges until NKPA tanks appeared
on the streets in front of the ROK Army headquarters.32 KMAG officers
attempted to stop the destruction of the bridges, but they were too late. In
the early morning hours of 28 June 1950, explosives set by ROK sappers

27
destroyed the bridges and trapped the majority of the ROK Army on the
north side of the Han River with their backs to the river and the NKPA to
their front.
To counter the NKPA’s advance down the Korean peninsula and to
bolster the ROK Army, the US Eighth Army—then headquartered in Ja-
pan—ordered its 24th Infantry Division to send a battalion to Korea. A
delaying action by this battalion would allow US and UN forces to arrive
in the Pusan area, prepare a defense, and prepare a counter attack. For this
task, Maj. Gen. William Dean, 24th Infantry Division commander, chose
the 1st Battalion, 21st Infantry Regiment. Dean’s mission type orders to
Lt. Col. Charles Smith, the 1-21st’s battalion commander:
Get to Pusan, and head for Taejon. Stop the NKPA as far from
Pusan as you can. Block the main road as far north as possible.
Make contact with Major General Church, who General MacAr-
thur had sent forward to South Korea on his behalf to conduct an
assessment. If you can’t find him, go to Taejon and beyond if you
can. Sorry I can’t give you more information—that’s all I have.33
The 1st Battalion, 21st Infantry Regiment, known as Task Force Smith,
arrived in Pusan on 1 July and began movement toward the advancing
NKPA forces. This understrength battalion, two companies instead of the
required three, with a supporting US artillery battalion moved north to the
vicinity of the village of Osan. Task Force Smith, the most combat-ready
battalion in the 24th Infantry Division at the time, was comprised primar-
ily of eighteen- and nineteen-year-old soldiers with no combat experience
and only eight weeks of basic training.34 To accomplish its mission, Task
Force Smith was only equipped with six obsolete M9A1 bazookas, two
75-mm recoilless rifles, two 4.2-inch mortars, four 60-mm mortars, and
standard-issue infantry rifles and side arms.35 On 5 July 1950, Task Force
Smith encountered lead elements of the NKPA advance. Task Force Smith
initially engaged the tanks of the NKPA’s 105th Armored Division and
found that their bazookas and recoilless rifles were ineffective against the
T-34s fielded by the NKPA.36 Thinking they were up against only a small
force, the 105th Armored Division made no real attempt to engage the task
force infantry and continued their attack south.37 As the 105th Armored
Division continued driving south, it encountered Task Force Smith’s sup-
porting artillery battalion. During this engagement, the artillery battalion
quickly fired the only six high-explosive anti-tank rounds on hand with lit-
tle to no effect on the column of tanks. Unable to locate the howitzers, the
NKPA tanks continued on, unintentionally driving over the communica-
tion wires connecting the US artillery battalion to the task force’s infantry
28
battalion.38 Shortly after the 105th Armored Division bypassed Task Force
Smith, the NKPA’s 4th Infantry Division arrived at the task force’s defen-
sive position. During a chaotic engagement that lasted most of the day,
the NKPA routed Task Force Smith. Causes for the rout ranged from an
inability to call for artillery support due to the cut communication wires,
ineffectiveness of the bazookas and recoilless rifles, and a high rate of
casualties stemming from taking on an entire NKPA division.39 Task Force
Smith was the first American unit to face the difficulties associated with
the chaos of war since the end of World War II.
Starting from a Position of Disadvantage
The NKPA’s surprise attack across the 38th parallel put both the ROK
Army and nearby US Army forces stationed in Japan at a significant dis-
advantage. By the end of June, Seoul was in the hands of the NKPA and
the ROK Army, which had numbered 98,000 men at the start of the NKPA
invasion, now numbered around 54,000 men, most without small arms or
a coherent chain of command.40 Only two ROK divisions, the 6th and the
8th, managed to escape the aftermath of the Han River bridges destruction
with their order and arms intact.41 This was a stunning defeat for the ROK
Army, which just three weeks earlier Time called “the best doggone army
outside of the United States” in a quote attributed to former KMAG com-
mander Brig. Gen. William Roberts.42 Considering the ROK Army on the
eve of the NKPA invasion fielded only five battalions of light artillery to
support its infantry divisions and did not have any tanks, medium artillery,
recoilless rifles, or even one combat aircraft, Brigadier General Roberts
might have mischaracterized his counterparts.43
In order to counter the position of disadvantage facing their ROK
allies, the US Eighth Army began deploying the US 24th Infantry Divi-
sion, of which Task Force Smith was the lead element. However, this took
time as the 24th Infantry Division was scattered the length and breadth
of Japan, near six separate ports, with no ships immediately available.44
By early July, MacArthur and Walker realized that stopping the NKPA’s
advance would require more forces than those available in Japan. Walker
ordered the entire Eighth Army to deploy to the peninsula from Japan,
including the US 1st Cavalry Division and the US 25th Infantry Divi-
sion.45 MacArthur requested additional troops from the continental Unit-
ed States: the 2nd Infantry Division, a regimental combat team from the
82nd Airborne Division, a regimental combat team from the Fleet Marine
Forces with heavy Marine air and beach parties, Army engineers, and
three tank battalions.46

29
 To form his amphibious striking forces, General MacArthur requested
Marine battalions from the regiments in the Sixth Fleet, stationed in the
Mediterranean, and asked the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to re-
call Marine reservists with World War II experience for the US 1st Marine
Division.47 The US 7th Infantry Division received recruits straight from
basic training and veteran NCOs from the artillery and infantry schools.48
Additionally, at the direction of MacArthur, the Eighth Army in Pusan
rounded up approximately 8,000 South Korean males and shipped them to
Japan. These Korean Augmentees to the United States Army (KATUSAs)
filled additional shortfalls in the manning of the 7th Division.
By August 1950, Eighth Army units, along with reconstituted ROK
army units, were in defensive positions along the Naktong River and hold-
ing the Pusan Perimeter against NKPA attacks. US X Corps, under Maj.
Gen. Edward Almond, continued to build an amphibious force in Japan
in preparation for their landings at Inchon. Hastily mobilized UN forces
also began deploying to the Korean theater and the US-led coalition was
prepared to reverse the early disadvantages.
Conflict across Multiple Domains: Air, Land, Sea, Space,
and Cyber
FM 3-0 envisions peer threats contesting US forces across multiple
domains, including air, maritime, land, space, and cyberspace.49 Enemies
are likely to employ anti-access strategies to prevent US forces from pro-
jecting and sustaining combat power into a region.50 The assured access of
the global commons and selected sovereign territory, waters, airspace, and
cyberspace is key to the projection of the instruments of national power
and not just US forces.51 FM 3-0 directs commanders to leverage cyber-
space operations, space capabilities, and information-related capabilities
in a deliberate fashion to support ground maneuver and to use ground ma-
neuver, along with other land-based capabilities, to enable maneuver in
other domains.52
While early 1950s-era technology precluded conflict in the nascent
space and cyber domains, operations took place across the sea, air, and
land domains. The decisive operation of the first ninety days, the amphib-
ious landings at Inchon, included simultaneous operations across all three
domains. The associated airpower designated to support the landings was
so massive that there was not enough airspace over the battlefield to ac-
commodate it.53 The shaping of the battlefield by an overwhelming com-
bination of the aerial bombardment that started on 9 September 1959 and
sporadic concentrated naval gunfire attack beginning on 13 September

30
ensured the success of the amphibious operation.54 Additionally, as part
of operations to interdict the NKPA’s lines of communication to the forces
attacking the Pusan Perimeter, the US 5th Air Force as well as US and
British warships patrolling the east coast of the peninsula attacked NKPA
convoys and trains moving south.55 They specifically targeted railroad and
highway bridges during a week-long campaign in early August.56
Exponential Lethality That Put Brigades and Battalions
at Risk for Catastrophic Casualties
During LCO, the largest unit facing catastrophic casualties is typical-
ly the platoon.57 In comparison, LSCO near-peer adversaries will bring
weapons and systems to bear against US forces that are exponentially
more lethal than those weapons used by US adversaries in LCO. As the
NKPA attacked south, they brought to bear an assortment of weapons that
was equal or superior to the equipment in use by the ROK Army, Task
Force Smith, and the other advance elements deployed by the US Eighth
Army. Russian T-34 tanks led the NKPA’s advance across the 38th paral-
lel. Perhaps the best all-around tank developed during World War II, the
T-34 provided high mobility, a low silhouette, and sloped armor plating.58
The T-34 proved more than a match for the ROK Army units, which were
not equipped with any tanks, heavy artillery, or anti-tank weapons of their
own. 59 During Task Force Smith’s engagement at Osan, shells from their
75-mm recoilless rifles and the 2.36-inch bazookas bounced off the front,
side, and rear armor of the T-34.60 It wasn’t until the deployment of US
tank battalions equipped with M4A3 Shermans mounted with high-ve-
locity 76-mm cannon or M46 Patton, and the delivery to Eighth Army
units of 3.5-inch rocket launchers that US forces were able to counter the
onslaught of the T-34.61
The scale of casualties experienced by US and ROK units during the
summer of 1950, while the norm in LSCO, were outside the experience of
field grade officers serving on division staffs. Task Force Smith lost forty
percent of its strength: sixty killed in action (KIA) and 103 wounded in ac-
tion (WIA) or missing in action (MIA).62 The defeat of Task Force Smith at
Osan was just the first setback suffered by US combat forces in the defense
of the Korean peninsula. By July, the rest of Task Force Smith’s parent
24th Infantry Division was committed to the peninsula. In its first major
engagement at the Battle of Taejon, 14–21 July 1950, the NKPA forced the
24th Infantry Division to retreat and captured the division’s commander,
Maj. Gen. William Dean.63 Shortly afterward on 27 July 1950, the 25th In-
fantry Division’s 3rd Battalion, 29th Infantry Regiment suffered more than
fifty-percent casualties in the Battle of Hadong Pass.64 By the end of July
31
when the 24th Infantry Division turned over its area of the front to the 1st
Cavalry Division, the division had lost enough equipment to outfit a full-
strength infantry division and had suffered a thirty-percent casualty rate.65
An unusually high percentage of those casualties was senior officers.66 As
July rolled into August, the ROK army had lost an estimated 70,000 men
and the US Army more than 6,000 men.67
NKPA formations were not immune to catastrophic casualties either.
The forces available to the NKPA at the start of the war numbered approx-
imately 135,000 soldiers divided into thirteen divisions.68 By its final push
on the Pusan Perimeter, the NKPA consisted of fourteen divisions and two
separate armored brigades divided into two corps.69 By the end of Sep-
tember 1950, the NKPA was shattered and fleeing north in much the same
manner as the ROK Army had fled south at the end of June. The thirteen
divisions spearheading the invasion south were no longer a cohesive fight-
ing force. Following the destruction of the last NKPA cohesive formations
south of the 38th parallel in the vicinity of Uijonbu at the end of Septem-
ber, US forces estimated that not more than 25,000 to 30,000 disorganized
NKPA troops managed to reach North Korea. 70 Additionally, US survey
teams reported 239 destroyed or abandoned T34 tanks and seventy-four
destroyed or abandoned self-propelled 76-mm guns, almost the total num-
ber of these weapons available to the NKPA at the start of the war.71
Units of Action That Are Echelons Above Brigade: Corps
and Divisions
According to FM 3-0, Army forces organized into corps and divisions
generally constitute the preponderance of land combat forces.72 Corps and
divisions execute decisive action tasks in order to seize the initiative to
gain and exploit positions of relative advantage in multiple domains in
order to dominate an enemy force and consolidate gains.73 The units of
action for both sides during the period examined included corps and di-
visions. The NKPA forces that invaded South Korea included thirteen di-
visions and by the time of the NKPA’s final push on the Pusan Perimeter
consisted of fourteen divisions, and two separate armored brigades divid-
ed into two corps.74 In the Pusan Perimeter, the NKPA faced a US Eighth
Army that included four US Army divisions divided into two corps, IX
and I.75 ROK forces under the Eighth Army included five divisions divided
into two corps.76 Additionally, the Eighth Army had the UK 27th Infantry
Brigade and a provisional US Marine brigade at its disposal.77 The US X
Corps with the US 1st Marine Division, the US 7th Infantry Division, and
elements of the ROK Marine Corps conducted the landings at Inchon.78

32
Rules of Engagement That Are More Permissive Than for LCO
Joint Publication (JP) 1-04, Legal Support to Military Operations, de-
fines rules of engagement as directives issued by competent military author-
ity delineating the circumstances and limitations under which US forces will
initiate or continue combat engagement with other forces encountered.79 FM
3-24 describes LCO as operations with “tighter” rules of engagement (ROE)
requiring US forces to accept more risk.80 However in LSCO, US forces
will operate under more permissive ROE.81 The US Eighth Army conducted
LSCO during the Korean War while operating under a permissive set of
ROE. During the landings at Inchon, bulldozers were loaded on the lead
Landing Ship, Tank (LST) to help break through the seawall. Bulldozers
also proved useful in pushing dirt into slit trenches occupied by defending
NKPA troops who were firing on the landing forces.82 During the defense of
the Pusan Perimeter, positive identification of friend of foe was problematic,
especially for UN aircraft, which on at least one occasion fired on a friendly
ammunition train.83 The resulting explosions killed numerous South Korean
civilians in close proximity to the explosions.84 After the Eighth Army over-
ran NKPA forces during its breakout from the Pusan Perimeter, bypassed
NKPA troops began to conduct guerrilla operations. To counter the effects of
guerrilla operations, Eighth Army soldiers adopted the custom of shooting
anyone in civilian clothes who they caught moving at night.85
Operations Conducted with Coalition Partners
Recent LCOs in Iraq (2003–11), Afghanistan (2001–present), and the
Balkans (1996–present) as well as the recent LSCO in Kuwait and Iraq
(1991) suggest the United States will conduct operations with coalition
partners in the future. Operations on the Korean peninsula during the sum-
mer of 1950 reflected a coalition environment. In the early hours of the
NKPA invasion of South Korea, UN Secretary-General Trygve Lie called
an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council. During this meeting,
the council passed Resolution 82 calling for:
1. An immediate cessation of hostilities.
2. North Korea to withdraw its forces back to the 38th parallel.
3. All UN members to render every assistance to the execution of the
resolution and refrain from giving assistance to North Korean authorities.86
In response to this call, a coalition of forces, including land, air, and
naval units from the United States, United Kingdom, Australia, New Zea-
land, the Netherlands, and South Korea prepared to mount a desperate

33
defense of South Korea centered on Pusan, a port city in the southeast
corner of the Korean peninsula. Eventually sixteen nations would contrib-
ute forces to the UN effort in Korea, including brigades from Turkey and
the Philippines, a regiment from Thailand, and a battalion each from the
Netherlands, France, Colombia, Belgium, and Ethiopia.87
US forces can also expect to provide advisors and enabling units to co-
alition partners during LSCO. As the defense of the Pusan Perimeter solid-
ified in early September, Maj. Gen. Paik Sun Yup was the commander of
the 1st ROK Division, which with its American advisors, was holding an
area around the town of Taegu. Paik received a message summoning him
to a meeting with “an important American general officer.”88 At this meet-
ing, Paik met with Maj. Gen. Frank Milburn, commander of the recently
formed US I Corps. Milburn informed Paik that the US Eighth Army had
assigned the ROK 1st Division to I Corps along with the US 1st Cavalry
and 24th divisions.89 During this meeting Milburn commented to Paik that
the 1st ROK Division had performed admirably around Taegu, despite a
lack of firepower. To rectify this, Major General Milburn stated that he
would attach corps artillery assets to the 1st ROK in order to bolster its
firepower.90 Subsequently, I Corps attached the US 10th Anti-Aircraft Ar-
tillery Group commanded by Col. William Henning. This artillery group
consisted of the 78th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Battalion, 9th Field Artillery
Battalion, and the 2nd Heavy Mortar Battalion and was the equivalent of
the artillery support provided to a US division.91 Upon his assignment to
the ROK 1st Division, Henning urged Paik “to not be stingy with requests
for fire support; we’ve got plenty of ammo.”92
The attachment of the 78th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Group to the ROK
1st Division was to support the division’s crossing of the Naktong River
and destroy the NKPA’s 1st Division in the vicinity of Palgong-san and
Kasan in conjunction with the 1st Cavalry’s attack toward Sangu.93 During
that attack, which enabled the breakout of coalition forces from the Pusan
Perimeter, Major General Paik recounted that Henning “provided every
practical cooperation and that for my part, I placed the highest priority on
seeing to the needs of these invaluable American gunners.”94 Both Hen-
ning and Paik agreed that they were able to maintain an agreeable relation-
ship that contributed to both units’ success despite the rigors of combat
that they experienced.95 Paik felt the secret of success in combined opera-
tions was in scrupulously caring for the needs of foreign supporting units.
He stated that “any number of combined operations go awry because of
unnecessary friction between host-country and foreign troops.”96

34
An Operational Framework That Includes a Consolidation Area
FM 3-0 introduces the concept of consolidation of gains inside a desig-
nated consolidation area. The operational framework for future operations
designed by field grade officers now includes a consolidation area, in ad-
dition to the already defined deep, close, and support areas.97 A consoli-
dation area is a designated portion of the commander’s area of operations
designed to facilitate stability or COIN tasks that allow freedom of action
in the close area and to support the consolidation of gains made by LSCO.98
While not formally part of 1950s US Army doctrine, consolidation
areas were established by elements of the US Eighth Army. In the days
prior to and immediately following General Walker’s order to break out of
the Pusan Pocket, the ROK 1st Infantry Division conducted “mop up” op-
erations and consolidation of gains in the US I Corps area of operations.99
Those operations enabled other I Corps elements to exploit the success of
the breakout from the Pusan Perimeter and continue pursuing retreating el-
ements of the NKPA north. While the ROK 1st Division was consolidating
gains for the I Corps, the ROK Special Marines were doing the same in the
urban area of Inchon, as the 1st Marine Division moved on toward Seoul
and the 7th Infantry Division defended in the south in order to prevent the
NKPA from reacting to the changing situation on the Korean peninsula.100
Conclusion
During the early days of the Korean War, combat operations spanned
the length of the Korean peninsula. These operations, which involved
multiple corps echelon units exercising mission command over numer-
ous divisions, exhibited the characteristics of LSCO as envisioned by
Combined Arms Center (CAC) doctrine writers and included in the re-
cently published FM 3-0. While a second Korean War may never come,
field grade officers benefit from understanding the LSCO that took place
on the Korean peninsula during the summer of 1950. Tempo was key
to success in LSCO, both for the NKPA and the UN forces. During the
early days of the invasion, the NKPA’s surprise attack enabled its forces
to maintain the tempo. The Inchon landings by the US X Corps seized
the initiative from the NKPA and transferred it to the UN forces, which
maintained the initiative until the Chinese People’s Army entered the
conflict in the fall of 1950.
Further examination of the characteristics of LSCO enables a deep-
er understanding of those characteristics and prepares field grade officers

35
to relearn old concepts in preparation to conduct LSCO anywhere in the
world against a near-peer competitor. As young lieutenants, these officers
demonstrated an ability to be critical and creative thinkers who learned
quickly and were able to quickly translate that learning into action during
the limited contingency operations that the US Army conducted in Iraq
and Afghanistan. When it comes time to conduct LSCO, these officers will
undoubtedly react in the same manner.

36
Figure 2.4. Frontline of UN Forces during the Korean Conflict, 1950–51. From
Richard W. Stewart, ed. American Military History, vol. II, The United States
Army in a Global Era, 1917–2008 (Washington, DC: US Army Center of Mili-
tary History, 2010), 225.
37
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: October 2017), ix
2. FM 3-0, ix.
3. FM 3-0, ix.
4. FM 3-0, ix.
5. FM 3-0, ix.
6. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-24, Counterinsurgency
(Washington, DC: December 2006), 2.
7. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-07, Stability Operations
(Washington, DC: October 2008), 3-2.
8. FM 3-07, 3-2.
9. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-07, Stability Operations
(Washington, DC: June 2014), 1-2.
10. Col. Richard D. Creed, “FM 3-0, Operations” (presentation, US Army
Command and General Staff College, 14 February 2018).
11. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, Foreword.
12. Creed, “FM 3-0, Operations.”
13. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, Operations, 5-3.
14. FM 3-0, 5-3.
15. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: November 2016), 2-7.
16. ADRP 3-0, 2-7.
17. ADRP 3-0, 2-8.
18. Robert Leckie, Conflict: The History of the Korean War (Cambridge,
MA: Da Capo Press, 1996), 115; T. R. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War: The Clas-
sic Korean War History (Washington, DC: Brassey’s, 1963), 35.
19. Fehrenbach, 35.
20. Fehrenbach, 35.
21. Fehrenbach, 164.
22. Fehrenbach, 166.
23. Fehrenbach, 166.
24. Roy Appleman, South to the Naktong, North to the Yalu: United States
Army in the Korean War (Washington, DC: US Army Center of Military History,
1992), 512.
25. Leckie, Conflict, 146.
26. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 171.
27. Sun Yup Paik, From Pusan to Panmunjom (Washington, DC: Brassey’s,
1992), 55.
28. Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, s.v. “chaos,” accessed 5 March
2018, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/chaos.
29. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, eds. Michael Howard and Peter Paret
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 1989), 101.
30. Clausewitz, 119–20.

38
 31. Leckie, Conflict, 50.
32. Leckie, 50.
33. Bevin Alexander, Korea: The First War We Lost (New York: Hippocrene
Books, 2004), 60.
34. Appleman, South to the Naktong, 61; Thomas E. Hanson, Combat
Ready? The Eighth Army on the Eve of the Korean War (College Station, TX:
Texas A&M University Press, 2010), 8.
35. Alan R. Millet, The War For Korea, 1950–51: They Came From the
North (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2010), 137.
36. Alexander, Korea, 58.
37. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 67.
38. Fehrenbach, 69–70.
39. Alexander, Korea, 58.
40. Leckie, Conflict, 52.
41. Leckie, 52.
42. Frank Gibney, “Korea: A Progress Report,” Time LV, no. 23, (5 June
1950): 26–27.
43. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 7.
44. Fehrenbach, 65.
45. Fehrenbach, 81.
46. Fehrenbach, 81.
47. Fehrenbach, 163; Leckie, Conflict, 128.
48. Fehrenbach, 164.
49. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 5-6.
50. FM 3-0, 5-6.
51. FM 3-0, 5-6.
52. FM 3-0, 5-4.
53. Alexander, Korea, 195.
54. Leckie, Conflict, 135–37.
55. Leckie, 105.
56. Leckie, 105.
57. Creed, “FM 3-0, Operations.”
58. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 67.
59. Fehrenbach, 7, 67.
60. Leckie, Conflict, 68.
61. Appleman, South to the Naktong, 114; Fehrenbach, This Kind of War,
68; Donald Boose, US Army Forces in the Korean War 1950–53 (Oxford: Os-
prey, 2005), 52, 75–86.
62. Millet, The War For Korea, 138.
63. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 100.
64. Alexander, Korea, 114.
65. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 101.
66. Fehrenbach, 101.
67. Fehrenbach, 113; Appleman, South to the Naktong, 262.
68. Leckie, Conflict, 115; Appleman, 10.
39
 69. Leckie, 115.
70. Leckie, 153; Appleman, South to the Naktong, 604.
71. Appleman, 602.
72. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 5-4.
73. FM 3-0, 5-4.
74. Leckie, Conflict, 115.
75. Leckie, 116.
76. Leckie, 116.
77. Leckie, 116.
78. Leckie, 126.
79. Department of Defense, Joint Publication (JP) 1-04, Legal Support to
Military Operations (Washington, DC: August 2016), GL-3.
80. Department of the Army, FM 3-24, 7-2.
81. Creed, “FM 3-0, Operations.”
82. Leckie, Conflict, 141.
83. Leckie, 65.
84. Leckie, 65.
85. Leckie, 117.
86. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War, 51.
87. Leckie, Conflict, 55.
88. Paik, From Pusan to Panmunjom, 49–50.
89. Paik, 49–50.
90. Paik, 50.
91. Paik, 50.
92. Paik, 51.
93. Paik, 51.
94. Paik, 51.
95. Paik, 51.
96. Paik, 51.
97. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-26.
98. FM 3-0, 1-35.
99. Paik, From Pusan to Panmunjom, 55–57.
100. Leckie, Conflict, 142.

40
 Chapter 3
Operations in the Security Area
Marty M. Leners

The US Army’s ability to successfully execute decisive-action opera-

tions hinges on its ability to execute and win the security area fight. While
not clearly defined in current Army doctrine, the security area fight, both
in the offense and in the defense, enables successful subsequent opera-
tions. Army units make initial contact in the security area and set the con-
ditions for follow-on combat and stability missions. Hence, this is an area
of critical importance for any large-scale combat operations (LSCO) in the
near future.
Despite the ever-increasing proliferation of—and reliance on—tech-
nological sensor-based systems, the US Army must retain the capability
to ensure tactical and operational security and freedom of maneuver. This
fight begins in the security area. During a February 2012 news conference,
Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld stated:
Reports that say that something hasn’t happened are always in-
teresting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns;
there are things we know we know. We also know there are known
unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not
know. But there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don’t
know we don’t know. And if one looks throughout the history of
our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that
tend to be the difficult ones.1
Overreliance on technological sensors may answer the “known un-
knowns,” but they cannot attempt to address the “unknown unknowns,”
those information requirements that Rumsfeld clearly articulated as the
most difficult. It is these “unknown unknowns” where the Army’s ground
forces must fight for information. Due to the rapid pace of modifications
to its doctrine and terminology, the US Army does not currently define the
term “security zone.” As such, the term “security area operations” will be
used throughout this chapter to refer to combat-enabling operations in the
security area.
The purpose of this chapter is to discuss security area operations as
they pertain to LSCO and to propose potential near- and long-term solu-
tions to counter threat forces operating in this contested area. Current US

41
Army doctrine as noted in Field Manual (FM) 3-98, Reconnaissance and
Security Operations, does state that in support of the division’s scheme
of maneuver:
[T]he BCT [brigade combat team] must fight for information to
develop the situation while in contact with the enemy and near
the civilian population. Commanders and staffs must understand
the tactical, human, and political dynamics associated with cur-
rent and future armed conflict because of the requirements and
challenges of the operational environment.2
The security area is not linked to any one facet of decisive action, but rath-
er it is an integral aspect of offense, defense, and stability. Likewise, the
security area is not tethered to a specific domain; it is equally applicable in
the physical or cyber domains.
Threats in the Security Area
Understanding the criticality of information dominance and oper-
ational security, the US Army’s opponents will actively fight to protect
their information as well as their combat forces while attacking ours. For
LSCO, this fight begins in the security area, or as threat doctrine identifies
this area, the disruption zone.3 Regardless of whether the adversary is a
peer or near-peer threat, there are certain characteristics of the threat dis-
ruption zone that US Army forces must first understand in order to counter.
Our threat’s areas of responsibility (AORs) doctrinally consist of three
principal zones: disruption, battle, and support.4 Within the disruption
zone, “The enemy employs combinations of lethal . . . and nonlethal . . .
actions to disrupt United States forces to shape the environment, influence
key actors, and consolidate gains and efforts to accomplish the mission.”5
The threat disruption zone is the primary area in which the enemy oper-
ational-level commander will employ long-range joint fires and strikes.
They will establish kill zones within their disruption zone for integrating
the actions of long-range fire elements and disruption force elements.6
Nowhere is the threat doctrine of the security area fight better man-
ifested than the recent Russian military intervention in Ukraine and the
Crimea, most notably the 2014 Russian cross-border artillery shelling.7
This Russian hybrid approach to combat has direct implications to Ameri-
can forces fighting in security area operations. Russian forces rely heavily
on massed artillery fires, and these indirect fires rely heavily on target

42
acquisition.8 In a recent article in The National Interest, Dr. Phillip Karber,
a noted scholar of the Russian military, states:
The increased availability of overhead surveillance combined with
massed area fires of artillery and the Multiple Launch Rocket Sys-
tem have produced a new level of intensity in modern conventional
combat. Data from the Ukraine conflict show that [Russian] artil-
lery is producing approximately eighty percent of all casualties.9
Infusing historical artillery doctrine into their next-generation combat, the
Russians based their current doctrine largely on the tenet that “once ad-
equate fires have been delivered, ground forces begin to maneuver, pref-
erably with an armored element to secure time and space for indirect fire
and protection platforms to move forward and begin the cycle again.”10
This cycle of precision fires, followed by tactical maneuver reinforced by
massed fires, is the tactical challenge US Army forces must counter in
future security area operations.
Not only is an effective security area required on the physical battle-
field, but also it is needed on the cyber battlefield. Threats and adversaries
continue to establish and refine their hybrid approach to combat. During
the Russian incursion into the Ukraine, Dustin Voltz commented to Reu-
ters that “a hacking group linked to the Russian government likely used a
malware implant on Android devices to track and target Ukrainian artillery
units from late 2014 through 2016.”11 The Reuters article continues: “The
malware was able to retrieve communications and some locational data
from infected devices, intelligence that would have likely been used to
strike against the artillery.”12
Whether targeted by hacked cellphone, unmanned aerial vehicles, or
other more traditional intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR)
platforms, it is clear that the Russia military continues to emphasize “shap-
ing the battlefield” with their long-range surveillance and fires. As such,
American and Allied forces need to be able to “set the conditions” for
LSCO success. Our ground forces must fight to counter what the Asym-
metric Warfare Group is calling “Russian New Generation Warfare.” This
new generation warfare is not limited to the Russians or other high-tech
disruption forces. American military commanders and planners can expect
similar disruption zone fights from the Chinese People’s Liberation Army
(PLA), Iranian Army, Korean People’s Army (KPA), and other peer or
near-peer competitors.13

43
 The purpose of the threat disruption force is to prevent US forces
from conducting an effective attack. A successful threat disruption zone
and degradation of friendly designated components or subsystems begins
the disintegration of US command and control, thus creating vulnerabili-
ties for threat exploitation in the battle zone. Skillfully conducted enemy
disruption operations will effectively deny US Army operations synergy
and synchronization.
US Army Operations in the Security Area
In order to counteract the threat disruption zone, US Army command-
ers routinely employ reconnaissance and security forces to defeat or neu-
tralize enemy forces in the disruption zone, thus enabling main body forc-
es to conduct their attack unencumbered by early threat actions. While not
emphasized in current US Army doctrine, brigade and division command-
ers and their planning staffs need to understand the importance of securi-
ty area operations, and the necessity of resourcing and planning for this
critical phase of the operation. Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, states,
“Security operations can be either offensive or defensive. The main dif-
ference between security operations and reconnaissance operations is that
security operations orient on the force or facility being protected, while
reconnaissance is enemy and terrain oriented.”14
Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and Defense, amplifies this critical-
ity without directly addressing the verbiage of the security zone: “Contact
with enemy forces before the decisive operation is deliberate, and designed
to shape the optimum situation for the decisive operation.”15 This shaping
operation for the “optimum situation” is critical. Commanders and plan-
ners constantly consider this as they plan for the security area fight. This
manual, along with Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) and Army Doctrine
Reference Publication (ADRP) 3-0, Operations, forms the foundation for
the task and purpose of the divisional unit tasked with conducting security
area operations in the offense. Even with this doctrinal foundation for the
security area operation’s task and purpose, confusion remains. Regardless
of the orientation or the tactical task of reconnaissance or security, US
Army units habitually struggle with the security fight.
Security Area Operations in the Offense
Predominately, military planners emphasize reconnaissance over se-
curity while developing offensive operations. However, security area op-
erations are equally important. ADRP 1-02, Terms and Military Symbols,
defines counter-reconnaissance as “a tactical mission task that encompass-
es all measures taken by a commander to counter enemy reconnaissance
44
and surveillance efforts. . . . [It] is not a distinct mission, but a component
of all forms of security operations.”16 While defined as such in doctrine,
the term counter-reconnaissance is simply another way of describing op-
erations in the “security area.”
We discover yet another underlying cause of the misunderstanding
and lack of doctrinal clarity of security area operations as we examine this
concept through the battlefield framework. Where on the battlefield is se-
curity planned and executed? FM 3-0, Operations, states: “A commander
may conduct security operations to the front, flanks, or rear of the friendly
force.”17 However, this same doctrinal manual fails to graphically portray
any dedicated security or security area (outside of the intra-theater joint
security area) as it illustrates the current doctrinal battlefield framework.

Figure 3.1. Corps Area of Operations within a Theater of Operations. From Department
of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2017), 1-30.

According to FM 3-0, “The division close area is primarily where bri-

gades operate. Brigades focus on reconnaissance and security, defending
areas, and securing or seizing objectives.”18 Army units execute the secu-
rity fight along the transitions from the division deep area to the division
close area along the forward line of troops (FLOT). This is also where the
Army’s doctrinal consternation is found. If the division assumes responsi-
bility for security area operations, thus allowing its BCTs to focus on the
pending offensive close fight, then the questions of who, when, and where
become paramount to planners:
A corps or division normally . . . provides security before making
contact with the enemy main body. However, once the corps or
division commits its main body forces, that attacking subordinate
echelon, a division or BCT, provides its own security. The intro-
45
 duction of another corps- or division-controlled element between
the deep area and attacking forces in the close area only tends
to increase the coordination necessary between units and compli-
cates the control and execution of close operations.19
For a division attack, planners must account for the security area force
and for the transition from this unit to the brigade’s security force. Re-
gardless of the tasked unit, planners must remember “reconnaissance [and
security] is a mission undertaken to obtain, by visualization or other detec-
tion methods, information about the activities and resources of an enemy
or adversary.”20 The security area force must fight for information. This
fight is planned and conducted to assist the division staff in its information
collection and provide its higher headquarters commander the ability to
maneuver to positions of relative advantage well before main body forces
make contact.
Security Area Operations in the Defense
This requirement to fight for information and protect our forces is
equally important in the defense. While security area operations in sup-
port of the defense may be better understood conceptually, several areas
of confusion remain with regard to defensive security areas. In a division
or BCT defense, “security operations are those operations undertaken by
a commander to provide early and accurate warning of enemy operations,
to provide the force being protected with time and maneuver space within
which to react to the enemy, and to develop the situation to allow the com-
mander to effectively use the protected force.”21
Center for Army Lessons Learned Bulletin 17-28 on Combat Training
Center trends uses the dated term “security zone” but clearly states:
A successful defense relies on the deliberate and timely execution
of engagement area development. However, before an element
can begin its engagement area development, the unit must secure
itself through establishment of a security zone. Successful estab-
lishment of the security zone enables battalions the freedom of
maneuver required to build obstacles in support of the defensive
plan. The absence of obstacles prevents battalions from effective-
ly massing the effects of both direct and indirect fires.22
The purpose of successful defensive security area operations is clear: un-
impeded engagement area development, obstacle establishment and inte-
gration, rehearsals, and other preparations. The impacts of unsuccessful
security operations in the defense are equally clear, but far more disas-

46
trous. Because the impacts are more readily visible, there is better under-
standing and supporting doctrine for defensive security area operations.
FM 3-0 illustrates a doctrinal corps contiguous area defense with clear-
ly delineated corps and division security areas and notional or suggested
brigade-sized units within each. However, this two-division corps requires
twelve BCT-sized units to accomplish its deep, close, and consolidation
area operations. While doctrinally correct, current US Army force struc-
ture makes such an employment unlikely. Division and brigade planners
must address this resource-constrained environment in the defensive deep
as well as in the close fights. The key to successful security operations, ei-
ther offensive or defensive, is planning that facilitates rapid decision-mak-
ing to exploit opportunities, mass indirect and direct fires, properly use ter-
rain, minimize visual and electromagnetic signatures, disperse and rapidly
maneuver, protect networks, and sustain brigades.23

Figure 3.2. Corps Contiguous Area Defense. From Department of the Army, Field
Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2017), 6-29.

Security Area Operations in Support of the Military

Decision-Making Process
“Scouts Out” is a phrase often heard around tactical assembly areas
and command posts with reconnaissance and security forces moving into
47
their area of operation well before orders completion. Reconnaissance and
security are paramount. Whether a unit is conducting offensive, defensive,
or stability operations, the task of early scout movement is well under-
stood. However, the linkages between security area operations and subse-
quent reporting and planning are not. All too often, the “fight for informa-
tion” is lost in command post reporting channels and not incorporated into
the military decision-making process (MDMP).
The Center for Army Lessons Learned’s “Reconnaissance and Secu-
rity Commander’s Handbook no. 17-12” discusses the linkage between
the BCT’s military decision-making process and reconnaissance and se-
curity operations. As illustrated in Figure 3.3, the brigade MDMP timeline
drives the cavalry squadron’s operational timeline. The BCT warning order
(WARNORD) #2 initiates the squadron’s mission execution of subsequent
“recon pull” of cavalry troop-collected information to squadron-developed
intelligence.24 Too often, squadrons are not effectively tasked to answer
the brigade commander’s information requirements, and those information
requirements that are collected do not adequately assist the commander in
visualizing the pending BCT’s mission. Reports from the security area will
reveal either unforeseen opportunities or unforecasted threats or, as Sec-
retary of Defense Rumsfeld called them, “unknown unknowns.” In their
recently published research report on “The Effects of Simple Role-Playing
on the Wargaming Step of the Military Decision Making Process,” a group
of Command and General Staff College faculty members defined these
unforeseen opportunities or unforecasted threats as “exceptional infor-
mation.” This study defined the term as “information that would have an-
swered one of the CCIR [commander’s critical information requirements]
if the requirement for it had been foreseen and stated.”25
Too often, military planners fail to understand the criticality of this
“exceptional information” or to process this information into intelligence.
Compounding these oversights, this “fought-for” information does not as-
sist the staff during the MDMP, either at course-of-action development,
course-of-action analysis, or course-of-action comparison adjustments.
“As a result, reconnaissance [and security] operations routinely fail to pro-
vide informational inputs necessary to drive the operations of the ground
force commander (GFC).”26 This failure to link information requirements
to planning, coupled with the failure to adequately shape the close fight
for the brigades and battalions, magnifies the deficiency of security area
operations planning and execution. The ability of the cavalry squadron to
confirm or deny the enemy situation template is critical to the Understand,
Visualize, Describe, and Direct model.27
48
 Figure 3.3. Reconnaissance and Security Interactions with Military Decision-Making
Process (MDMP). From Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 17-12, Recon-
naissance and Security Commander’s Handbook (Fort Leavenworth: 2017).

Security Area Operations in Support of Large-Scale Combat

Operations
Regardless of the threat the US Army faces, the available force struc-
ture within our units, or the range of military operations called upon to
execute, commanders and planners must apply their critical and creative
talents to address the crucial requirements of effective security area oper-
ations. In the December 2016 ARMY magazine, Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster
wrote, “Trends in armed conflict that include contests across all domains,
increased lethality and range of weapons, complex and urban terrain, and
degraded operations, all argue for reconnaissance and security at all eche-
lons.”28 This argument for increased reconnaissance and security calls for
renewed emphasis on security area organization, planning, and execution.
The difficulty of planning and executing security area operations, cou-
pled with the importance of its success to flank and higher headquarters,
demands a dedicated unit that is trained and prepared for this critical mis-
sion. Historically at the division level, the unit tasked with the security
area fight was the divisional cavalry squadron. However with the current
force structure, the division has no dedicated ground combat force for this
mission, forcing it to delegate the security area task and purpose to a sub-
ordinate BCT or task-organize a unit for this task.

49
 Several interim solutions present themselves. One potential solution
is to simply task-organize an existing cavalry squadron from a supporting
effort or a reserve BCT to conduct the division’s security area operations. A
benefit of this task organization is that this squadron should have habitually
trained with the other BCT cavalry squadrons to ease the reporting and tar-
get handover from the division close area to the BCT deep area. While this
offers a “quick fix” for the division’s security area operation, it is not with-
out issue. This task organization solution strips away a critical asset from
one of the BCTs and leaves its commander without an organic, dedicated
reconnaissance and security asset. Using the same planning methodology,
the reserve or supporting effort BCT commander might reconstitute his
or her security force by task-organizing from within his or her remaining
forces. However, the commander must assume risk at some level.
Another solution is to assign a dedicated battlespace to each subor-
dinate BCT with a clear task and purpose to conduct their own internal
security area operations with organic assets. At the BCT level, FM 3-98,
Reconnaissance and Security Operations, states, “The cavalry squadron
is the brigade combat team commander’s primary asset to develop the
situation and provide the combat information that will ultimately refine
subsequent courses of action for the BCT’s decisive operations.”29 How-
ever, this concept is also problematic as it violates unity of command and
introduces unneeded complexity to an already complex tactical problem.
Unfortunately, these stop-gap measures fail, as routinely reported by the
combat training centers.30
A third solution, although outside of the purview of division com-
manders and staffs, is to reestablish dedicated reconnaissance and security
elements at each level of tactical command. Using the two-levels-down
planning methodology, the battalion/task force commander needs to retain
his or her scout platoon. The BCT commander needs to have his or her
brigade reconnaissance troop reinstated. Each BCT then reassigns one of
its current cavalry squadrons to serve at the division level while one of the
other BCT cavalry squadrons serves as the “bill payer” for this table of
organization adjustment.
Finally, to ensure adequate security area operations from the deep to
the close fight, the Army Corps must have a dedicated ground force capa-
ble of independent operations to provide timely reconnaissance and ade-
quate security for not only the corps, but also the subordinate divisions and
brigades (see figure 3.4).

50
 Author Linkage Between
Security Forces and their
Higher Headquarters
Corps Deep / Security Area
III

Division Deep Area

III

Brigade Deep Area (Division MBA)

III

Battalion Close Area

III

Corps Consolidation Area

X

As Required

Figure 3.4 Corps Main Battle Area with Proposed Unit Responsibilities for Security
Operations. From Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2017), 6–7.

Conclusion
Even with the lack of a clear doctrinal framework for the security area,
current Army doctrine does address the need for security area operations.
ADP 3-0, Operations, clearly states: “Commanders fight for information
to develop the situation while in contact with the enemy across multiple
domains and gain information through close association with the popula-
tion.”31 This “fighting for information” is far more complex than simply
tasking a unit or sensor to collect on a named area of interest. The unit
dedicated to security area operations, regardless of echelon, must be able
to employ direct and indirect fires (both lethal and non-lethal) in order
to answer the commander’s priority information requirements and set the
conditions for follow-on forces to either attack or defend. This unit must
have the training and equipment necessary for its task. It must understand
how its timely and accurate reporting in support of the commander’s crit-
ical information requirements refines the planning process for main body
forces, and it must fight to maintain options for the commander. As noted
in the Army’s Offense and Defense field manual:
Effective offensive action capitalizes on accurate and timely in-
telligence and other relevant information regarding enemy forces,
weather, and terrain. . . . Protection tasks, such as security op-
erations, operations security, and information protection prevent
or inhibit the enemy from acquiring accurate information about
friendly forces.32

51
 The timely employment of well-trained and properly resourced forces
into security area operations is paramount. Reconnaissance and security
operations are critical not only to the successful planning and execution of
the unit’s mission but to that of its higher headquarters. Regardless of the
threat or the tactical solution commanders employ, it is of the utmost im-
portance to remember the ultimate goal of security operations is to protect
the force from surprise and reduce the unknowns in any situation.33

52
 Notes
1. “Secretary Rumsfeld and Gen. Meyers,” Department of Defense News
Briefing, 12 February 2002, http://archive.defense.gov/Transcripts/Transcript.
aspx?TranscriptID=2636.
2. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-98, Reconnaissance and
Security Operations (Washington, DC: 2015), 2-39.
3. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 7-100.0, OPFOR Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2017), 4-34.
4. Department of the Army, FM 7-100.0, 4-34.
5. Department of the Army, FM 3-98, 2-29.
6. Department of the Army, FM 7-100.0, 4-35 and 4-36.
7. Julian E. Barnes and William Mauldin, “U.S. Says Russian Artillery Firing
Across Border Into Ukraine,” Wall Street Journal (24 July 2014).
8. Asymmetric Warfare Group, Russian New Generation Warfare Hand-
book, Version 1, December 2016, 12.
9. Dan Goure, “Will the U.S. Army Get Serious About Revolutionizing
Long Range Fires,” The National Interest (19 August 2016), http://nation-
talinterest.org/blog/the-buzz/will-the-us-army-get-serious-about-recolutioniz-
ing-long-1708.
10. Asymmetric Warfare Group, Russian New Generation Warfare Hand-
book, 12.
11. Dustin Volz, “Russian hackers tracked Ukrainian artillery units using
Android implant,” Reuters (21 December 2016), https://www.reuters.com/arti-
cle/us-cyber-ukraine/russian-hackers-tracked-ukrainian-artillery-units-using-an-
droid-implant-report-idUSKBN14B0CU.
12. Volz.
13. Homer T. Hodge, “North Korea’s Military Strategy,” Parameters
(Spring 2003), http://ssi.armywarcollege.edu/pubs/parameters/Articles/03spring/
hodge.pdf.
14. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 5-66.
15. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and De-
fense (Washington, DC: 2013), 1-2.
16. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
1-02, Terms and Military Symbols (Washington, DC: 2015), 1-84.
17. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 5-66.
18. FM 3-0, 1-149.
19. FM 3-0, 7-31.
20. Department of the Army, FM 3-98, 5.
21. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-90, Offense and Defense (Washington, DC: 2012), 5-11.
22. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Bulletin 17-28, Army Tactical Task
7.2 Conduct Defensive Tasks (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2017), 67.
23. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-149.

53
 24. “Reconnaissance and Security Commander’s Handbook no. 17-12”
(Fort Leavenworth, KS: Center for Army Lessons Learned, 2017).
25. Richard A. McConnell et al., “The Effect of Simple Role-Playing Games
on the Wargaming Step of the Military Decision Making Process (MDMP): A
Mixed Methods Approach,” Developments in Business Simulation and Experi-
ential Learning 45 (2018): 350.
26. Bryan Chivers and William Kueber, “Cavalry Operations at the JTRC,”
News from the CTC (10 June 2017).
27. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-0, Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2016), 21.
28. Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster and Matt Rasmussen, “Take These Steps to
Change Our Army,” Army 67 (13 December 2016).
29. Department of the Army, FM 3-98, 4-7.
30. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 17-05, Mission Com-
mand Training in Unified Land Operations (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2017), 13.
31. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-0, Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2016), 7.
32. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 1-2.
33. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 5-66.

54
 Chapter 4
Operational Framework: Enabling Tempo and Decision-Making
Edward V. Rowe

The division conducting large-scale operations (LSCO) employs the

operational framework to identify and assign subordinate tasks clearly in
time, space, and purpose. This framework enables the division to control
the tempo of operations and allows the staff to better inform the com-
mander’s decisions. The skilled employment of the operational framework
construct by a commander and his staff assists the division in seizing, re-
taining, and exploiting the initiative—allowing the commander to control
the tempo of an operation. The framework also allows the staff to mon-
itor actual results against predicted results, allowing the staff to inform
commander decisions with the perspective those differences may reveal.
The operational framework becomes a context in which the division com-
mander can articulate a flexible plan that accounts for the dynamic inter-
action between friendly forces and the enemy. The operational framework
helps the commander direct and lead the unit in the execution of that plan
while assessing the results to determine what decisions to make and when
to make those decisions.
The Operational Framework Defined
As Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, describes:
The operational framework has four components. First, command-
ers are assigned an AO (area of operations) for the conduct of op-
erations, from which, in turn, they assign AOs to subordinate units
based on their visualization of the operation. Units should be as-
signed AOs commensurate with their ability to influence what hap-
pens within them. Second, within their assigned AO, commanders
can designate deep, close, support, and consolidation areas to de-
scribe the physical arrangement of forces in time, space, and pur-
pose. Third, within an AO, commanders conduct decisive, shap-
ing, and sustaining operations to articulate an operation in terms of
purpose. Finally, commanders designate the main and supporting
efforts to designate the shifting and prioritization of resources.1
Notably, this description of the operational framework replaces the
previous cognitive planning construct known as the battlefield framework.
However, the designation of main and supporting efforts to focus resource
allocation is not new. Prior to the publication of FM 3-0 in October 2017,
55
a commander would usually choose between either close, deep, and se-
curity areas or decisive, shaping, and sustaining operations. The new FM
3-0 encourages a commander to identify deep, close, and support areas to
establish a spatial relationship but also to identify the decisive, shaping,
and sustaining operations to establish a purposeful relationship of what is
occurring in these areas.
At the division level, the commander may also, as the definition di-
rects, designate a consolidation area when needed. A consolidation area
is an AO under control of a maneuver brigade combat team (BCT) that
accounts for bypassed and/or latent threats as well as what would other-
wise be poorly resourced stability task requirements. Consolidation areas
are designated to allow a force (usually a BCT) to contribute to maintain-
ing the tempo of the close fight by mitigating the hazard and probable
disruptive effects of bypassed forces and stability tasks. The consolida-
tion area allows the BCTs in the close area to continue the fight, reducing
their exposure to near-peer forces anticipated in LSCO before those forc-
es can fully bring their expected destructive fires against friendly forces.
Employed effectively, the consolidation area can help extend operational
reach and prevent culmination.
Operational Framework Enables Tempo
Tempo is the relative speed and rhythm of military operations over
time with respect to the enemy.2 Tempo refers to the commander’s ability
to control the rate that an operation proceeds. A commander inherently
desires to control the tempo of an operation to optimize the unit’s op-
portunities for success while he is dictating the terms of the fight to the
enemy. Controlling the tempo is a dividend of seizing and retaining the
operational initiative.
The Army’s operational concept requires that forces operate with op-
erational initiative. The concept is known as unified land operations and is
defined in Army Doctrinal Reference Publication (ADRP) 3-0, Operations:
Simultaneous offensive, defensive, and stability or defense support
of civil authorities tasks to seize, retain, and exploit the initiative
to shape the operational environment, prevent conflict, consolidate
gains, and win our Nation’s wars as part of unified action.3
The operational framework assists the division commander in seizing
the operational initiative by dividing a complex environment into scaled
areas purposefully assigned to brigades to best fit their capabilities, tasks,
and purposes. The commander employs the concept to delegate authority

56
to subordinate commanders and assign their units purpose-driven tasks
which together accomplish the mission at once or sequentially in phases.
For the operational framework to be effective, the BCTs in the close
area must possess the ability to accomplish their tasks. Each BCT must
possess and skillfully apply superior relative combat power to the threat
within its AO. The assigned task, opposing threat, and size of the AO de-
fine the minimum friendly brigade resource requirements allocated by
the division to the BCT. The division does this through task organization,
designating the BCT as main or supporting effort, and allocating division-
al capabilities in time and space. If the division’s operational framework
generates superior relative combat power within each AO, the division
will seize the initiative. Once the division possesses the initiative, the di-
vision will control the tempo of the operation.
Seizing and retaining the initiative in the close area is directly related
to the effects achieved in the deep area. Shaping operations in the deep
area must achieve effects that allow BCTs in the close fight to succeed in
the current fight and prepare for the next fight. Shaping operations in the
deep area should prevent threat forces operating in that area from massing
combat power against friendly forces in the close area. At the same time,
these operations create conditions for the force to move forward in space
toward its objectives. The link between close area and deep area is spatial
while the link between shaping operations in the deep area and decisive
operations in the close area is purposeful.
The distribution of effort in spatial terms between deep and close areas
allows the division staff and commander to continuously evaluate friendly
and threat conditions against anticipated results identified in planning. The
division must maintain flexible applications of combat power—including
fires, allocated close air support (CAS) and air interdiction (AI)—as need-
ed to make adjustments in the deep area to achieve desired effects or ex-
ploit opportunities.
Individual initiative differs from, yet invaluably contributes to, seizing
the operational initiative. Individual initiative occurs when a subordinate
commander uses his authority to act freely (implicitly adjusting from an ap-
proved course of action) within an assigned area of operations. It becomes
disciplined initiative when informed by and executed toward the higher
commander’s intent. Disciplined initiative accounts for changes in the oper-
ational environment not anticipated during divisional and brigade planning.
Within the division’s operational framework, the assignment of the
AO to a subordinate establishes precisely where disciplined initiative can
57
occur. The division commander delegates to the BCT commander the au-
thority and responsibility to act in an AO. The division also focuses and
generates potential for the BCT commander’s freedom of action by assign-
ing purpose, the tasks anticipated to achieve that purpose, and—through
allocation of resources—the capacity to achieve the purpose.
It is important to note that the operational framework itself cannot
enable disciplined initiative absent the trust required between division and
BCT commanders. Additionally, the operational framework does not af-
fect the individual commander’s leadership potential, which is a far great-
er determinant of relative combat power.
The Operational Framework Informs Decisions
Once the commander designates the operational framework and sub-
ordinate commanders are executing their plans (or adjusting them by way
of disciplined initiative), the division assesses progress against planned
benchmarks to support decision-making. In light of the discussion about
tempo, one decision the division commander makes is to adjust the close
and deep areas and, if applicable, establish or broaden the consolidation
area. As the shaping operations in the deep area achieve the desired effects
to move the BCTs in the close fight forward, the division commander ad-
justs the forward boundaries of both to capitalize on progress.
The division reviews the predicted relative combat power before ad-
vancing to new deep and close areas and identifies probable adjustments
to all sustainable operations over time. For each decision the commander
makes, the staff monitors friendly force information requirements (FFIR)
and those things about the enemy linked to that decision. That information
becomes priority information requirements (PIR). Collectively the FFIR
and PIR are known as commander’s critical information requirements
(CCIR)—those things the commander must know about the enemy and
his own force to make a decision, in this case to advance the operation
a phase line or more. If the anticipated conditions to make the decision
positively exist, the staff makes that recommendation to the commander
who decides whether to advance or not. If the desired conditions do not
exist, the commander decides which resources to apply to achieve those
conditions—time, additional combat power, or other. In other situations,
the commander may accept the risk of making that decision positively
even though the desired conditions do not yet exist.
Planners analyze the division course of action in a recurring process
called war-gaming to identify relative combat power in each of the areas

58
of operation and shaping efforts. One result of this analysis is estimated
consumption rates based on anticipated usage of divisional forces over
time. Consumption in terms of supply and loss rates is essential informa-
tion that planners need to anticipate requirements whose fulfillment at the
right location would otherwise take longer than the operation itself. Each
planning staff functional cell also maintains a running estimate of usage
of the assets they are responsible for monitoring. Examples of these assets
include maneuver forces, intelligence platforms, artillery ammunition ex-
penditure, and engineer effort.
Planners with operational experience in specific areas of expertise
identify potential times and places at which assets will be stressed to the
point where continued effective use will be threatened through loss, fa-
tigue, or commitment. The planners identify potential culmination thresh-
olds—hazards that pose risk to the operation. Once identified, planners
mitigate these hazards by adjusting the tempo of the operation, supple-
menting or replacing an asset through task or resource reallocation, or—in
instances of loss—through resupply, maintenance, or replacement.
Another way divisional planners can prevent culmination in the close
fight is by revising effects on high-payoff targets or formations in the shap-
ing operations conducted in the deep area. Shifting flexible applications of
combat power such as artillery fires, CAS, or AI can preclude a dilemma
that threatens culmination. These types of adjustments are the reason why
division planners and targeting team must work seamlessly throughout all
activities of the operations process. (See Figure 3.1 on page 45.)
The support area also relates to operations in the close area and in the
consolidation area, if assigned (see Figure 3.1). BCTs and other brigades
operating in the close area rely on sustainment, perhaps through the con-
solidation area, to prosecute the fight. Limitations may occur when there
is a shortage of supplies, a shortage of distribution capacity, or enemy
activity that hinders the distribution of supplies and services. Planners are
obligated to identify these potential hazards and propose ways to mitigate
residual risk during planning.
Sustainment requirements in the close area must meet the require-
ments of forces generating effects in both the close area and the deep area.
Artillery units, which may generate effects in both the close and deep ar-
eas, consume substantial amounts of ammunition. Similarly, armor BCTs
operating in the close area consume significant amounts of fuel, and per-
haps ammunition, while generating maintenance requirements for both

59
parts and service. The aviation brigade, wherever located, also consumes
significant amounts of fuel and ammunition. As the attack succeeds and
distribution distances grow, these challenges only increase in difficulty.
This is partly a result of the support area’s limited ability to displace at a
rate that would keep pace with the BCTs in the close area.
Operations in the consolidation area designed to interdict bypassed
regular and irregular enemy forces directly affect the security of supply
routes. If the BCT in the consolidation area can secure these supply routes,
the distribution of supplies works efficiently—with items arriving where
and when they are needed. If supply routes are not secure, supplies will not
get to where they are needed when they are needed and, consequently, op-
erational tempo is affected. This disruption in operations is the adversary’s
goal. If operations in any of the operational areas make support operations
more vulnerable to threat disruption, the division commander might need
to make an adjustment, such as adding combat power to the consolidation
area to secure these routes or protect convoys. Any combat power moved
from the close area to the consolidation area will likely have secondary
and tertiary effects on operations in the close area, potentially affecting
operational tempo.
Proper use of the operational framework is essential to preserving
combat power—trained soldiers, crews, and units—allowing them to con-
tribute to future operations. Perhaps most critical is the proper estimation
of relative combat power in each of the operational areas and in their relat-
ed efforts, because this a great predictor of success and correlating reduc-
tion of losses over time. Skilled application of the operational framework
allows planners to predict more accurately the use of limited resources
such as intelligence collection, fires, rotary, and fixed wing air within their
capabilities and allows logistical preparation for the current and future
fights. Proper use of the framework and resource allocation within its com-
ponent areas preserves the combat power potential of maneuver forces.
Summary
The use of the operational framework requires clearly defined areas
of operation for brigades and BCTs to enable commanders to operate with
freedom of action, guided by their disciplined initiative. Planners must
help the division commander visualize and describe the fight in time,
space, and purpose through use of the deep area, close area, consolida-
tion area (when applicable), and support area. Similarly, planners help
the commander visualize and describe the fight in purposeful relation
between shaping operations, decisive operations, and sustaining opera-

60
tions. Finally, planners must help the commander visualize and describe
resource and risk distribution through the mechanism of designating main
and supporting efforts.
Enabling tempo and informing decisions are two useful byproducts
of the commander’s use of operational framework. A division command-
er can use the operational framework to delineate areas of responsibility,
purposes of different activities, resource allocation, and sequence of activ-
ities in time, space, and purpose. The framework is a useful way for the
commander to allocate resourcing efforts from all different warfighting
function capabilities to achieve desired effects through massing of superi-
or relative combat power in different locations and activities. Correspond-
ingly, it is a useful tool to monitor existing and emerging hazards that
pose risks to the execution of a planned operation. As the commander de-
ploys resources, inversely and perhaps intentionally, he allocates risks to
subordinate commanders. At each place the commander allocates risk, his
staff should reserve flexible combat power applications ready to quickly
change the relative combat power equation.

61
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 1-26.
2. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2016), 2-7.
3. ADRP 3-0, vi.

62
 Chapter 5
Consolidating Gains at the Division
Kenneth J. Miller

The Army’s renewed focus on large-scale combat operations (LSCO)

has challenged military leaders with issues that the Army has historical-
ly overlooked. One of these issues is how to consolidate gains after suc-
cessful LSCO. US military forces forcibly removed the governments of
Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya through combat operations, but were unable
to capitalize on these military successes to institute measures to ensure
long-term peace and stability in all three countries.
Gen. Mark Milley, Army Chief of Staff, placed renewed emphasis on
consolidating gains after major combat operations. The recently published
Army Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, devotes a chapter to this sub-
ject and makes it clear that consolidating gains is not synonymous with
stability tasks, counterinsurgency, or nation building.1 Recent rotations at
the Mission Command Training Program highlighted divisions and corps
difficulties in the consolidation area and with consolidating gains. This
chapter focuses on current Army division doctrine for consolidating gains
after LSCO and the utilization of the support area command post (SACP)
as a means to synchronize various tactical tasks necessary to assist divi-
sions with consolidating gains.
Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP) 3-0, Operations, de-
fines consolidation of gains as the activities that make permanent any tem-
porary operational success and set the conditions for a sustainable stable
environment which will allow the transition of US military control to a
legitimate civil authority.2
The requirement to conduct a combination of stability and counterin-
surgency (COIN) operations alongside nation-building tasks remains in
order to ensure lasting peace and stability. FM 3-0 does not specify that
commanders designate a consolidation area, but the battlefield framework
of deep, close, support, and consolidation areas implies one is necessary
at the division level. As the graphic illustrates, the consolidation area is
defined by two areas: the division support area and the consolidation area.
The consolidation area is the area that a commander designates to en-
sure freedom of action and tempo through operations designed to facilitate
security and stability. FM 3-0 states that a properly tasked combat orga-
nization is necessary to conduct operations in the consolidation area.3 FM

63
3-0 defines the support area as the area for operations designed to facilitate
the employment, positioning, and protection of sustainment assets that are
required to sustain, enable, and control operations.4 FM 3-0 recommends
establishing a support area command post (SACP) with an assistant divi-
sion commander to lead the functions found in the consolidation area. The
functions of the SACP include a wide array of responsibilities and tasks.

Figure 5.1. Consolidating Gains after Large-Scale Combat Operations. From Field
Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2017).
64
 Support area tasks that the SACP is responsible for include sustain-
ment operations, support operations, terrain management, line of commu-
nication security, movement control, mobility operations, and clearance
of fires.5 Recent Mission Command Training Program (MCTP) rotation
trends highlight the limitations of using a maneuver enhancement brigade
(MEB) as the command and control headquarters within the consolida-
tion area. This is readily apparent when discussing the division support
area, because the MEB does not have command authority over any support
units found in the division support area. In most cases, the division will not
have direct command authority over any support units, but rather will have
a support relationship with those units.
As the division maneuvers during offensive operations, the depth of
the division’s consolidation area will increase. Support units may have
great difficulty displacing and remaining within the division’s enlarged
consolidation area. Support activities may have to continue from a corps or
land component consolidation area and will require detailed planning and
synchronization with either a corps or land component command (LCC)
to ensure proper movement control, clearance of fires, line of communi-
cation (LOC) security, and terrain management to maintain the tempo of
offensive operations. Ideally, the division rear boundary will collapse in
order to give the division a more manageable consolidation area, but this
collapse will be predicated more on the corps or LCC capabilities to as-
sume a greater control of the consolidation area.
Consolidation area tactical tasks may include disarming belligerents,
resettling internally displaced persons (IDP), and detention and return of
enemy prisoners of war (EPW) either by the host nation or warring party
following a peace agreement. The consolidation task force also may per-
form additional tasks, such as demining operations, clearing rear areas of
bypassed or stay-behind units, cease fire agreement enforcement, enforc-
ing exclusion zones between warring nations, and reinforcing or training
host nation security forces until they are capable of conducting operations
independently of coalition forces. The key task is civil control and civil
security as divisions occupy territory.
Historically, the Army has relied extensively on formations consisting
of military police, engineers, civil affairs, military intelligence, signal, and
sustainment organizations to conduct non-combat operations necessary to
consolidate gains. These units are in addition to or to reinforce existing
organizations found within the corps or division structure. Missing at the
division level are combat organizations tasked to conduct combat opera-
tions anticipated within the consolidation area. Typically, commanders are
65
hesitant to allocate much combat power to the consolidation area due to
risk associated with reducing combat power available in the main battle
area. Commanders who designate a tactical combat force (TCF) or other
combat unit to consolidate gains usually do so as an economy-of-force
operation predicated upon the level of threat they anticipate in the consol-
idation area.6
During Operation Iraqi Freedom I (OIF I), as the 3rd Infantry Division
(3ID) attacked toward Baghdad, the V Corps commander, Lt. Gen. Wil-
liam “Scott” Wallace, was presented with a problem to the rear of the 3ID.
Significant enemy forces threatened the ground line of communication
primarily in and around the towns of An Najaf and Samawah. The 3ID by-
passed these towns to maintain speed and tempo of the attack to Baghdad.
Lieutenant General Wallace asked the Combined Forces Land Component
(CFLCC) commander to release one brigade from the 82nd Airborne and
the 101st Airborne Division then tasked them to secure the extended LOCs
from Kuwait to the 3ID rear boundary. Essentially, these two units took
control of the 3ID and V Corps consolidation effort, enabling V Corps to
maintain the offensive tempo toward Bagdad.7
Securing the consolidation area was not deemed as a separate mission,
but rather as a shaping operation necessary to isolate Baghdad. Addition-
ally during 3ID’s attacks toward Baghdad, numerous cities and units were
bypassed presenting V Corps with the problem of securing their LOCs.
The corps had to pause briefly in order to get the 82nd and 101st units
into position and refocus them in the consolidation area toward a different
phase of the fight.
This example illustrates the possible challenges for any division con-
ducting offensive operations. Discussions between the division and corps
concerning the consolidation area are critical to maintain tempo and free-
dom of action. Divisions cannot get bogged down fighting in the consoli-
dation area and require additional resources to manage these critical tasks.
Ideally, the division rear boundary will shift forward and the corps or land
component will take over many of these critical tasks. A corps or land
component with a division capable of managing the consolidation area
would clearly lessen the division’s load on the offense and enable them to
focus on tempo and freedom of action.
V Corps was fortunate to have two division headquarters in its con-
solidation area to execute these missions. The division staffs were capable
of planning, executing, and synchronizing operations and had sufficient
resources to accomplish their tasks and enable V Corps to maintain tem-

66
po and apply maximum pressure on the Baathist Regime. Future LSCO
may require the corps to maintain a robust division or two with necessary
enablers in order to adequately address problems presented by the con-
solidation area. Ideally, National Guard brigades and divisions along with
security force assistance brigades will become the formations assigned to
conduct consolidation operations.
Support Area Command Post in the Consolidation Area
Mission command of the consolidation area remains an unresolved is-
sue. Current doctrine and manning levels at the division and corps, as well
as equipment necessary to conduct operations in the consolidation area,
have led many units to utilize ad hoc solutions to this problem set. FM 3-0
addresses the idea of a support area command post (SACP), but divisions
and corps are not manned or equipped for this function without stripping
personnel and equipment from the main command post to augment the
SACP. Units have attempted to utilize the maneuver enhancement brigade
(MEB) to accomplish this function; however, the consolidation area may
include multiple division and corps units, and the MEB has no command
authority over these units.8
In the previous edition of Field Manual (FM) 71-100, Division Oper-
ations, the division maintained three command posts: the main, the tacti-
cal command post (TAC), and the rear command post.9 Usually, the rear
command post was co-located with the division support command (DIS-
COM), but the functions of each were different. Currently, the support
area may have a SACP as well as a division support area commanded by a
support area commander (SACO), normally located in the vicinity of the
MEB; FM 3-0 states that the SACP has four primary functions: planning
and directing sustainment, terrain management, movement control, and
area security.10 The SACP is not capable of doing these functions with-
out significant augmentation, and that augmentation cannot come from the
SACO or the MEB.
The SACO’s primary mission is to ensure that sustainment operations
maintain the desired tempo of division combat operations. The SACO
does not have a command relationship with the division, but rather a sup-
porting relationship. This relationship does not allow the SACO to task
units outside of those doing support missions. The MEB has specific mis-
sions across the division area of operations in addition to the mission of
providing security within the consolidation area. Under current task orga-
nizations, the MEB does not have the combat power to assume this mis-

67
sion. The addition of a brigade combat team for combat operations in the
consolidation area would complicate mission command.
Utilizing the MEB staff to augment the SACP stresses the MEB com-
mander’s ability to plan and execute missions. With a reduced staff, the
MEB commander may not be able to control current and future opera-
tions. The SACP must plan and control division combined arms opera-
tions, manage airspace, and employ fires, all of which will require more
capabilities than the MEB or division main could augment.11 Depleting
the MEB staff in order to perform these functions would greatly hinder the
MEB commander’s ability to conduct normal doctrinal operations.
The SACP requires augmentation above resources available in the
MEB in order to meet mission command requirements in the consolidation
area. To do this, often the assistant division commander or deputy corps
commander is assigned to lead the SACP. The SACP will struggle with
the demands of security, sustainment, engagement, and coordination with
the host nation and interagency. Additionally, the SACP must have similar
capability to plan operations as the main command post and to maintain
a current combat outpost in the event the main command post is damaged
or displaced. Like all command posts, the SACP must maintain running
estimates; control operations; assess operations; develop and issue orders;
coordinate with higher, lower, and adjacent units; conduct knowledge
management; and perform command post operations.12
Local security within the consolidation area will require maneuver
and intelligence units to mitigate risks associated with enemy threats in
the support area. A TCF will probably be necessary to respond to vari-
ous threat levels; its composition will need to address the most danger-
ous threats posed to the consolidation area, including saboteurs, bypassed
conventional forces, or special forces, as well as electronic warfare (EW),
indirect fire, air threats, and intelligence-based operations. Developing pri-
ority intelligence requirements (PIR) to address these consolidation area
issues, as well as developing an information collection plan, is just as im-
portant as developing PIR for close and deep fights.
Recent division warfighter exercises indicated that along with func-
tions and tasks identified in FM 3-0, the SACP was critical in synchroniz-
ing sustainment support with the host nation for rail, roads, and airfields.
The SACP had mobility issues and, as the consolidation area expanded,
they had difficulty displacing to keep pace with corps and divisions units.
The SACP organic communication and power generation capabilities were
insufficient to meet the demands of the fight.13

68
 The function of the SACP outside of maintaining the tempo and sus-
tainment of operations is to work with the HN and civil affairs units to be-
gin stability tasks and provide for local population control. This function is
unique to the SACP and in recent warfighter exercises, division command-
ers assigned this responsibility to the SACP. Integration with Army civil
affairs teams or the joint force civil military operations center was critical
to establishing civil control in the consolidation area.
Division commanders will conduct civil military operations in the
consolidation area, and it is essential for the division staff to understand
the joint force commander’s civil-military objectives during the planning
process to ensure a unified effort of action toward designated goals.14 A
crucial element to secure long-term peace is for military leaders to develop
initial relationships during and after LSCO. Population control is essen-
tial during this phase of operations, and divisions must consider various
control measures to ensure stability, including curfews, movement restric-
tions, identification of personnel, and voluntary or involuntary resettle-
ment. The SACP has a critical role in synchronizing these functions with
civil affairs units. Successful civil-military operations allow the division
to hand over responsibility of the rear area operations to friendly host-na-
tion security forces, thereby allowing the corps and divisions to maintain
tempo, shorten lines of communications, and free up combat power for
unanticipated threats or opportunities.
The SACP may also work with host nation security forces, if available,
to secure or seize weapons on the battlefield, ammunition, fuel, data centers,
radio and television stations, barracks, police stations, and key terrain that
controls bridges, borders, and other transportation nodes. Control of enemy
security services includes accountability for those not already captured or
killed, rapid physical control of population centers and the establishment
of public order, and use of information operations to shape public opinion,
discredit enemy narratives, and promote friendly host nation narratives. It
is essential during this period to synchronize information operations with
actions on the ground. If US forces communicate an idea, the local popu-
lace needs to see that actions on the ground support that message.
These tasks and missions are varied, complex, and in some cases en-
during over time, and require specialty formations, but the capability to
accomplish all these tasks will ensure the division’s freedom of action and
maintain the tempo required for combat operations. Yet, though some of
these tasks are necessary while LSCO are ongoing, others are necessary
only after combat operations have ceased. Current doctrine is not clear and
presents a dilemma for the division: do divisions assume consolidation
69
missions or solely focus on necessary tasks to ensure tempo and freedom
of action long enough for a corps or land component to assume more of
the consolidation mission?
Conclusion
Consolidating gains after LSCO will continue to challenge military
leaders and staffs. Doctrine, manning, organization, and equipping issues
will continue to evolve over time to successfully meet these challenges,
but until then, units will continue to struggle with consolidating gains af-
ter LSCO. The Army has recognized the fact that officers require training
and education in order to successfully plan operations in the consolidation
area. The following ideas represent a way ahead for consolidating gains.
Change the name of the Stabilize phase in joint and army planning
doctrine to Consolidating Gains and Transition. In this way, commanders
will fully understand their responsibilities during and after major combat
operations and can plan accordingly for this specific task. Consolidating
Gains activities should focus on consolidating operational objectives with
such tasks as security, enabling basic public services, and building local
governing capacity that will set the conditions for national-level governing.
Divisions conducting LSCO may not be able to consolidate gains ap-
propriately; the pace of the fight and the continuing lines of communica-
tion will tax the capabilities of divisions to fully consolidate gains. Divi-
sions can accomplish support activities and may be able to consolidate
tactical gains for a short period, but ideally a corps or land component
command will have forces readily available to assume consolidation du-
ties from divisions in combat. If forces are not available, it is paramount
for the division to work with civil affairs units and the host nation to trans-
fer security tasks to them as soon as feasible.
Divisions and corps require the manning, equipment, and capabilities
to conduct consolidation missions. The present way of forming a SACP
and over-reliance on the MEB to conduct these missions will only continue
the challenges of consolidating gains during and after LSCO. The Army
needs to offer resources necessary for divisions to accomplish these tasks
and must train and educate officers on how to plan and execute consolida-
tion of gains operations. This function is more than a civil affairs mission; it
is the responsibility of unit commanders to ensure long-term political gains
are achieved following military operations. It is possible that in the near
future, US governmental organizations will deploy enough personnel to ex-
ecute the whole of government approach. Until that time, however, the mil-

70
itary will have to consolidate gains and provide civil control. The military
should acknowledge this fact and incorporate this idea into its doctrine.
Divisions will have to coordinate and synchronize consolidation area
activities and transition ongoing operations to a corps, land component, or
host nation. Divisions should begin this transition during the initial plan-
ning phase of the operation to ensure actions are coordinated and syn-
chronized before combat operations begin to ensure long-term stability.
The military should work with the State Department to transition military
functions to the State Department and eventually to the host nation. In the
end, the US military cannot count solely on military victories to lead to
strategic outcomes. Developing a proactive military that understands and
successfully consolidates gains is the best way to ensure we are not plac-
ing soldier lives at risk and misusing political power throughout the world.
No matter how many battles the Army wins, failure to stabilize a coun-
try after LSCO will always result in strategic failure. Use of the SACP
along with necessary manning, equipment, and units will go a long way
toward setting the conditions for victory before fighting even begins.

71
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), chap. 8.
2. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2016), 3-8.
3. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 8-1.
4. FM 3-0, 1-34.
5. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 18-04, Mission Command
in the Division and Corps Support Area Handbook (Fort Leavenworth, KS:
2017), 5.
6. Publication 18-04, 53.
7. Gregory Fontenot, E. J. Degen, and David Tohn, On Point: The United
States Army in Operation Iraq Freedom (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies
Institute Press, 2004), 209.
8. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 18-04, 2.
9. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 71-100, Division Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 1996), 3-5.
10. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 2-37.
11. Department of the Army, FM 71-100, chap. 3.
12. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 18-04, 45–46.
13. Publication 18-04, 9.
14. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Publication (JP) 3-57, Civil Military Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2008), III-2.

72
 Chapter 6
Division Intelligence: Looking Deep to Win Close
Robert S. Mikaloff

The purpose of this chapter is to establish the context in which a divi-

sion and its commander use intelligence. Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Opera-
tions, reenergizes the role of the division as a tactical headquarters and with
that comes a need to understand the framework and perspective required
of the intelligence warfighting function (IWfF) at the echelon of division.
A discussion of the role of intelligence in a resurgent division headquarters
is a starting point for understanding how intelligence supports the division
commander and subordinate brigade combat teams (BCT). The objective
is to describe the conceptual underpinnings of effective intelligence sup-
port to division operations.
The re-emergence of the division as the principle echelon for action
requires a close examination of the role of division intelligence. The im-
peratives of division intelligence are best understood in the context of
division operations. Once this context is understood, a discussion of the
fundamentals of intelligence will foster a deeper examination of division
G2 (intelligence) contributions to the commander’s visualization, deci-
sion-making, and targeting processes. An important consideration in pro-
viding intelligence support to a commander is changes in division struc-
ture driven by modularity and the resulting impact on the ability of the
IWfF to support the commander.
Division Context
A good point of departure for any discussion of division intelligence
is the operational framework of deep, close, support, and consolidation
areas. As a headquarters that commands BCTs, divisions—through the
division intelligence staff—have the responsibility to predict the nature
and scale of future battles and engagements executed by those BCTs.1 Al-
though these threats are clearly manifested in the division close area, the
evolution of these threats, to include their strength and composition, is
revealed in the division and corps deep areas. A principle responsibility of
division intelligence is to identify and track enemy formations anticipated
in the division deep area to inform division targeting. Division deep op-
erations are focused on shaping enemy formations that may engage in the
division close area. This is accomplished through shaping operations in

73
division deep areas and requesting similar actions from corps in the corps
deep area.
FM 3-0, Operations, provides a glimpse of the breadth of division
operations, ranging from division deep to support consolidation areas (see
Figure 5.1 on page 64). This figure can be deceptive since it is a snapshot
in time. During rapid, high tempo operations the ability to shape or engage
enemy forces is dependent on identifying, finding, tracking, and targeting
those high-payoff targets that facilitate the ability to achieve stated objec-
tives. This extends the area of intelligence interest well beyond the divi-
sion forward boundary, possibly into corps or land component deep areas
and potentially deeper. The concept of deep battle and deep operations is
central to the success of division operations.
The idea of deep operations or deep battle is not new. The idea of
operations in depth, beyond the front line of own troops (FLOT), came to
prominence after World War One. During the interwar period, the Soviets
conducted a deliberate examination of the failures of France and the Unit-
ed Kingdom on the western front. Soviet general and military theoretician
Georgii Isserson noted that early in the war when confronted with tactical
stalemate, all the belligerents attempted to extend the battlefield lateral-
ly.2 This lateral extension eventually led to a grossly extended front line
and an inability to act decisively anywhere along the front. A potential
answer was to extend the battlefield in a different direction, in depth. The
Soviets embraced the concept of deep battle and by 1929 had developed
doctrine to conduct deep battle.3 The US Army formally adopted the con-
cept of extending the battlefield through deep battle and deep operations
with ideas fostered by General Donn Starry in 1981.4 FM 3-0, Operations,
reacquaints us with deep operations executed by divisions.
To execute deep operations, divisions are reliant on capabilities resi-
dent in the corps, the land component, and the joint force. To extend the bat-
tlefield in depth through leveraging capabilities residing at higher echelons,
a division commander must identify and request those assets in advance of
any battle or operation. This process requires division commanders to visu-
alize future operations in even greater depth in time and space than the time
required to request and plan for those assets. The best example is the use of
close air support (CAS) or nominating targets for air interdiction (AI) from
the joint force. In order to leverage CAS or AI, the division anticipates the
location and operations of enemy units and high-payoff targets expected in
the division area of operations no later than seventy-two hours in advance
in order to meet air tasking order (ATO) time requirements.5

74
 A division commander’s visualization of activities on the battlefield is
further complicated by the idea of sustained land combat. In any conflict
with a near-peer threat, this process of visualization becomes iterative.
Divisions can expect to execute a series of operations in support of corps
or land component objectives. With this extension of operations in time
and space across a battlefield extended in depth, the division commander’s
estimate must include a range of branches and sequels to the plan beyond
his current objective.
The nature of large-scale combat operations (LSCO) causes divisions
to operate at the juncture between tactics and operations. Consequently,
it is evident that divisions operate in a gray area between the tactical and
operational levels of war. As a headquarters that commands BCTs in the
execution of battles and engagements, the division operates as a tactical
headquarters. Iterative planning and execution of tactical actions by BCTs,
as well as shaping operations in advance of those battles and engagements,
elevates the division out of the category of a purely tactical formation.
The division commander’s requirement to visualize rises to the operation-
al level of war. Joint Publication (JP) 1, Doctrine for the Armed Forces of
the United States (2017), defines the term operation as “a sequence of tac-
tical actions with a common purpose or unifying theme.”6 When a BCT’s
tactical actions are linked by division purpose, the division is engaged in
planning an operation. The implication of this is a deeper understanding of
an operation as it unfolds in time and space. This leads to a more holistic
view as opposed to a more simplistic conception of an operation as a series
of discrete battles and engagements.
Intelligence Fundamentals
The fundamental doctrinal requirements of any intelligence section,
regardless of echelon, are to support the commander’s understanding of
the operational environment and improve both visualization and inform
commander decision-making. This is achieved in part by the intelligence
preparation of the battlefield (IPB) process and in part by requirements
generated in discussion with the commander.
Fulfilling these requirements is governed by a series of qualitative
measures or general characteristics of effective intelligence. These char-
acteristics include accuracy, timeliness, usability, completeness, precision,
reliability, relevance, predictability, and tailoring.7 The division G2 must
evaluate information collection and intelligence assessments using these
intelligence characteristics as a guidepost. The first six characteristics can

75
be considered the result of due diligence by any intelligence professional.
The last three (relevance, predictability, and tailoring) are keys to success
for a division intelligence staff.
Information for the sake of information, regardless of whether that
information is pertinent to current or future operations, does nothing but
cloud understanding of the environment. The division’s area of interest is
an expansion of the area of operations and, often, the area of influence. Not
all information within the described area of interest is relevant. Relevance
is a function of the commander’s requirements and the friendly course of
action and is informed by the level of risk accepted by the command.
As addressed earlier, there is an absolute need for division intelligence
to be predictive. The timing required to leverage intelligence, surveillance,
and reconnaissance (ISR) assets from higher and to generate effects de-
mands that G2s predict enemy activities. These include composition and
strength to some level of fidelity in excess of ninety-six hours out. In
LSCO, the time horizon is expanded in order to assist the commander’s
requirement to visualize beyond initial division objectives to any sequels
or branches that present themselves.
There are some differences in requirements based on the consumer of
intelligence products. The G2 is responsible not only to the commander,
but to the six other warfighting functions (WfF). Division intelligence in-
forms the running estimates of other staff sections with varying require-
ments for precision, accuracy, and timeliness. For example, the nature of
information required by the protection warfighting function cell differs
from that required by the fires cell. There is also some difference in the
requirements based on echelon.
Division intelligence supports subordinate BCT intelligence efforts
and informs intelligence or targeting assessments by higher headquar-
ters. Although all intelligence information is graded against the general
characteristics of intelligence, the level of required fidelity varies. The
variation between echelons is a matter of granularity and perspective of
enemy disposition and actions in time and space. The lower the echelon
of supported command or commander, the more explicit and timely the
required information. The higher the echelon, the deeper the assessments/
estimates must be in time and space resulting in less initial fidelity. Those
initial assessments must be refined over time to meet the level of fidelity
required for targeting by higher echelons. For example, the requirement to
meet standards expressed in the Fires Cell Attack Guidance Matrix or on
the Joint Tactical Air Strike Request DD1972.

76
The Division G2’s Perspective
The G2 must respond to intelligence requirements across the entire
operational framework of deep, close, support, and consolidation areas.
Additionally, the G2 must anticipate enemy actions, intent, and objectives
in depth of time and space beyond the division’s primary objective. Func-
tionally, this is not a solitary effort. Division assessments are informed and
guided by higher headquarters assessments and by continuous dialogue
among intelligence staffs between echelons. A commander’s intelligence
staff must respond to the command’s needs for intelligence information.
This requires a holistic view of the operation at echelon ranging from an-
ticipated battles and engagements for BCTs to the decisive operation to
achieve the division objective. This view surpasses current division oper-
ations to branches and sequels to the current operation and requirements
generated by consolidation of gains. While the division commander visu-
alizes the orderly arrangement of actions of the battlefield, the G2 must do
the same for any enemy. Subsequently the division G2 must translate this
visualization into the operational framework of deep, close, and support
areas in order to inform the commander’s decisions.
The intelligence requirements of deep, close, support, and consolida-
tion areas each require a different focus. Each has its own form of complex-
ity and differing levels of fidelity. Intelligence operations supporting the di-
vision deep area is complex due to the predictive nature of the information
needed to support division deep operations. The G2 must develop a holistic
view of enemy intent, capabilities and objectives and use that view to pro-
vide intelligence support to targeting. Being dependent on the joint force
and other components for assets that can engage in the deep area demands
that the G2 predict and nominate as high payoff targets (HPT) enemy ca-
pabilities and formations in a timely enough fashion to permit joint fires
to plan for and deliver effects. A complicating factor is the requirement to
ensure that targeted formations or capabilities are relevant to the division
operation. Joint fires are a constrained resource in any conflict with a peer
or near-peer threat. Targeting an enemy formation with operational or joint
fires merely because you have good locational data may render that fires
asset unavailable when it is truly needed. A disciplined approach to target-
ing, maintaining consistency with corps or land component targeting objec-
tives, and appreciation of the need to enable operations in the close area all
inform intelligence support to deep operations and targeting.8
Division intelligence in the close area is a convergence of predictive
assessments, targeting, and assessment of the effectiveness of targeting by

77
division and corps and emergent information relevant to BCT operations.
There is a relationship between predictive assessments, targeting, and the
assessment of the result of targeting. One informs the other. Intelligence
estimates of enemy forces expected in the division close area inform di-
vision course of action development and the associated targeting process
which in turn informs BCT planning. The planned effects of targeting by
division are accepted as a fact in intelligence estimates used for planning
at a subordinate BCT. During execution, the effectiveness of fires in divi-
sion deep informs the enemy situation passed to BCTs and can adjust the
focus of targeting both at division and at the BCT.
The Division G2 section has always held responsibility for intelligence
support from the division forward boundary to the division rear boundary,
but the division rear or support areas received little emphasis. The 1993
version of Field Manual (FM) 71-100-2, Infantry Division Operations,
describes G2 presence in the rear area operations center (RAOC). The
responsibilities of this element included refinement of IPB as it pertained
to rear area operations and recommendations for priority intelligence re-
quirements (PIR) and adjustments to the information collection matrix
(ICM) to meet requirements in the division rear areas.9
The re-emerging concept of division support area (DSA) and emer-
gence of the consolidation area spotlight the requirements of intelligence
support to rear areas and consolidation of gains. Based on descriptions of
the requirements of support areas and consolidation areas in FM 3-0, the
G2 must merge some of the requirements of division close areas with in-
formation needed for stability operations and counter insurgency (COIN).
These tasks include description of likely enemy activity in the support or
consolidation area, screening of refugees, and staff supervision of detainee
operations for the G2. These are traditional G2 responsibilities. The most
compelling change is the idea that significant enemy formations are by-
passed in the division close area as a result of speed and tempo of division
operations and are operating in the division rear and consolidation areas.
Enemy formations operating in the division rear areas expand G2 re-
quirements for support to the consolidation and division support areas to
include information and information collection activities that largely mir-
ror requirements for division close and deep areas. Prior to the October
2017 version of FM 3-0, Operations, typically the dominant intelligence
disciplines in division rear areas were human intelligence (HUMINT) and
counter-intelligence (CI). The focus was internally displaced persons, op-
erations security (OPSEC), detainee operations, and level 1 through level
3 threats. The concept of significant enemy maneuver forces in the rear
78
area broadens ISR requirements in the rear to more conventional efforts
such as situational development and intelligence support to targeting.
Challenges for Division Intelligence
The emerging importance of large-scale combat operations and the
re-emergence of the division as the primary unit for tactical action begs the
question of assured capability in a division task organization to conduct
information collection and the processing, exploitation, and dissemination
of intelligence. Simply stated, how does a division intelligence staff plan
for information collection and analysis to inform the division commander?
Modularity reduced the tools available to support the division commander
and the intelligence staff. Prior to modularity, divisions had collection as-
sets that were directly responsive to division information requirements.10
Modularity eliminated these assets as sources of spaces for building mod-
ular brigades. This left the division G2 completely dependent on capabil-
ities organic to subordinate brigades or joint, theater, or national assets.
Levying intelligence collection tasks on subordinate BCTs raises is-
sues. First and foremost are the number and complexity of tasks a BCT
must perform in LSCO. It becomes an analysis of the priority assigned to
any specified task directed to the BCT given an extant mission and objec-
tive. Any intelligence collection task competes against all other tasks in
the absence of a commander’s stated priority.
An intelligence warfighting function specific issue is the organiza-
tion of the military intelligence company (MiCo) in the brigade engineer
battalion (BEB).11 In response to requirements that emerged in Iraq and
Afghanistan, the MiCo was optimized for mission requirements in those
conflicts. Rather than providing a broad-based brigade-wide intelligence
architecture appropriate for LSCO, the MiCo is designed to pursue dis-
crete targets such as high-value individuals (HVI).12
Support from higher echelons is a key element of any information col-
lection plan, regardless of echelon. Intelligence is a pull system, meaning
an intelligence staff must ask the “smart question” in order to get a “smart
answer.” The plethora of collection systems from corps through national
systems suggests there is no shortage of assets. The issues for division are
priority and responsiveness. These assets feed information into databases
that are readily accessed by a division intelligence staff, but the priority
of collection for those assets is set by another commander. Based on that
priority, the information collected might not be tailored to the immediate
information needs of the division commander.

79
 Current dedicated intelligence and electronic warfare assets available
for divisions are resident in expeditionary military intelligence brigades
(EMiB). These brigades are composed of a number of expeditionary mili-
tary intelligence battalions (EMiBn) available to divisions based on corps
or land component analysis. Based on priority, these battalions may or
may not be included in the task organization of a division. There are not
enough EMiBns to task-organize one for each Army division. The current
structure of the EMiBs optimizes them for irregular warfare and COIN.
These organizations are HUMINT-centric with some ability to conduct
other disciplines. The centerpiece of the EMiB is multi-function teams
designed for task organization under lower tactical echelons. These teams
seek to merge at a low tactical level the capabilities of multi-discipline
intelligence in pursuit of HVIs, a critical mission in COIN and stability
operations. What is missing is the ability to provide the broad-based divi-
sion collection architecture that links and nests collection assets from BCT
to division and to higher echelons to support division-based operations in
large-scale combat operations.
Conclusion
Division intelligence is complex due to the perspective in time and
space required for analysis. A US Army division involved in LSCO during
a sustained campaign acts at the intersection of tactics and operations. A
division G2 must be able to speak to tactics with some granularity and
transition those tactical actions into the broader perspective of the oper-
ational level of war—a requirement unique among the echelons or roles
of headquarters.
FM 3-0, Operations, initiated the transition in focus from the brigade
to the division. This change in doctrinal focus does not change the basic
organization which still aligns more closely with the brigade. The IWfF
at division finds itself at a disadvantage in terms of assured capability to
conduct information collection. While the emerging priority is placed on
division-level operations, the division remains the one echelon without
a dedicated military intelligence unit directly responsive to the informa-
tion requirements of its commander. In the absence of an EMiBn in the
division task organization, the G2 must leverage capabilities resident in
subordinate brigades or rely on corps, land component, joint, or nation-
al collection which may have differing priorities or availability. Unless
addressed, this arrangement risks rendering the G2 irrelevant in critical
situations during division operations.

80
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 2-0, Intelligence (Washing-
ton, DC: 2004), 2-1.
2. Brig. Cmdr. Georgii Samoilovich Isserson, The Evolution of Operational
Art (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2013), 23–38.
3. Frederick Carleton Turner, “The Genesis of the Soviet ‘Deep Operation’:
The Stalin-Era Doctrine for Large-Scale Offensive Maneuver Warfare” (PhD
diss., Duke University, 1988), 197–239.
4. General Donn A. Starry, “Extending the Battlefield,” Military Review 61,
no. 3 (March 1981): 32–50.
5. US Joint Forces Command, Joint Fires and Targeting Handbook (Suf-
folk, VA: 2007), IV-1–IV-34.
6. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Publication (JP) 1, Doctrine for the Armed
Forces of the United States (Washington, DC: 2017), x.
7. Department of the Army, FM 2-0, 2-1–2-2.
8. Lt. Col. Blue Huber, “1st Armored Division Warfighter Exercise: Intel-
ligence Warfighting Function Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures for Victory,”
Military Intelligence Professional Bulletin 43, no. 4 (December 2017): 18–21.
9. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 71-100-2, Infantry Division
Operations (Washington, DC: 1993), 2-65–2-67.
10. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 71-100, Division Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 1990).
11. Stuart E. Johnson et al., A Review of the Army’s Modular Force Struc-
ture (Washington, DC: RAND, 2018), https://www.rand.org/pubs/technical_re-
ports/TR927-2.html.
12. Kristen Kushiyama, “Vigilant Pursuit System Aims to Improve Field In-
telligence,” Army News (18 January 2018), https://www.army.mil/article/72132/.

81
 Chapter 7
Fire Support in Division Large-Scale Combat Operations:
Shifting the Focus from Counterinsurgency-Centric Fires
Lt. Col. Michael D. Vick

The US Army that entered World War II was a large but inexperienced
force. In retrospect, it is not surprising that in its earliest campaigns of the
war, the Army struggled to conduct combined arms warfare efficiently and
effectively. One of the most serious of the army’s shortcomings was the
inability to provide effective indirect fire support to its maneuver units.
This deficiency played a major role in the defeat at Kasserine Pass during
the 1943 offensive into Tunisia. Lt. Col. John W. McPheeters, commander
of the 91st Field Artillery Battalion, 1st Armored Division, recalled one
specific instance during that battle in which an artillery commander failed
to understand his role in the larger operation:
I got so Godamn mad at this 155-mm gun battery next to my
command post. Because the German 170-mm guns had fired on
his battery, [the battery commander] wanted to move back out of
range. . . . General Ward (commanding general, 1st Armored Di-
vision) said yes, he could displace forward anywhere he wanted.1
The defeat at Kasserine came after victory over a weaker French Vi-
chy force in the initial landings on the North Africa coast. Because of the
relative easy victory over the French, some US commanders had entered
the Tunisian campaign anticipating a quick victory over Axis forces. How-
ever, Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps dealt a swift and humiliating defeat
to American units at Kasserine Pass, revealing the US Army’s shortcom-
ings in doctrine, training, organization, manning, and equipping. Rom-
mel’s numerically inferior forces proved vastly more capable in each of
these areas. The insights gained from the battle specifically regarding the
employment of field artillery not only benefited the US Army in 1943 but
also can be applied to current US Army artillery doctrine, structure, and
manning. This chapter analyzes current US Army field artillery structure,
doctrine, training, and manning, highlighting the similarities between the
army at Kasserine and that of today, with a specific focus on the division
level during large-scale combat operations (LSCO).
As a result of the 2011 Budget Control Act, the US military’s global
position has arguably deteriorated because of a defense strategy shaped
around key assumptions. These assumptions concern containing the threat

83
in the Middle East, maintaining strategic patience toward North Korea,
keeping a nuclear deal with Iran, improving relations with Russia, and re-
balancing the effort with China.2 These problematic assumptions resulted
in a significant cut in defense spending with the Budget Control Act of
2011. At the same time, potential peer threats continued to equip, man,
modernize, and organize their conventional forces, including fire support
systems, to fight a large-scale war. The indirect fire systems fielded by
these potential peers, including rocket and cannon systems, currently out-
match US indirect fire support systems.

Figure 7.1. A 155-mm howitzer in World War II. Courtesy of Getty Images with limit-
ed distribution.
Today, the US ranks sixth in rocket projector strength behind Russia,
North Korea, China, Egypt, and Iran; and in cannon systems, the US ranks
fourth behind Russia, North Korea, and South Korea (see Figures 7.2 and
7.3).3 These potential threats outrange US artillery platforms. Specifically,
these potential adversaries have at least twelve artillery platforms to the
US military’s seven. These adversaries possess multiple rocket launcher
(MRL) platforms to include the 9A52 300-mm MRL (SMERCH), which
can outrange almost all US Army systems.4 The US Army has only two
MRL platforms to include the multiple-launch rocket system (MLRS) and

84
the high-mobility artillery rocket system (HIMARS), which can fire an ar-
ray of munitions to include the guided MLRS unitary, extended range (ER)
MLRS, and the army tactical missile system (ATACMS). The ATACMS
is the only munition that can outrange the SMERCH. The potential threats
possess at least fourteen cannon or mortar platforms versus three plat-
forms in the US Army inventory.5

Rocket
Projector
Strength

4,000 3,793

3,500

3,000

2,500 2,400

2,000
1,770
1,481 1,474
1,500 1,331
1,100
1,000 811

500

Russia North China Egypt Iran United North Turkey

Korea States ‘Vietnam

Figure 7.2. Rocket Projector Strength. Created by Army University Press.

While recent spending by the Department of Defense has authorized

upgrades and improvements to many of these US platforms and systems,
will that be enough to match the potential threat fires capabilities? Having
more platforms and munitions is not necessarily an advantage if you do not
have the proper sustainment and support infrastructure. With an increase
in quantity comes an increase in logistical challenges. In a LSCO, the peer
threats will have to maintain and resupply their larger—and older—sys-
tems, including repair parts, fuel, and the various munition types. Howev-
er, the artillery overmatch still remains a significant concern in situations
where our potential threats can maintain and resupply these systems.

85
 Self-Propelled
Artillery
Strength

6,000 5,972

5,500

5,000

4,500

4,000

3,500

3,000

2,500 2,250
1,990 1,934
2,000
1,710

1,500
1,302
1,013
1,000

500

Russia North South United China Ukraine Turkey

Korea Korea States

Figure 7.3 Self-propelled Artillery Strength. Created by Army University Press.

Further compounding this challenge is the fact that over the past fif-
teen years, the US military has focused on counterinsurgency (COIN) op-
erations in Iraq and Afghanistan. The interwar period between 1918 and
1941 offers a rough parallel for the situation the US military faces today.
In that period, the US military downsized and became less ready to fight
large-scale combat operations. Military historian Martin Blumenson de-
scribes the mobilization process for war, which began in 1940, as “hasty
and improvised.”6 Blumenson identifies atrophied soldier and command
skills, equipment and weapon shortages, and insufficient training opportu-
nities as the main culprits that hamstrung the process. Consequently, when
they began combat operations in the early campaigns of World War II, US
86
forces did not enjoy the doctrine, skills, and equipment needed for indus-
trial-age mechanized warfare.7 It was not until late in the North African
Campaign that US forces began to overcome these shortcomings.
The US Army during Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) and Operation
Enduring Freedom (OEF) did not deteriorate like the army of the interwar
period, but rather transformed from a force focused on large-scale combat
operations in 2001 to one focused on counterinsurgency. This transforma-
tion included increased manning, more rapid fielding of key equipment,
training focused on COIN (at the expense of conventional combat opera-
tions), and deployment schedules that allowed little opportunity for pre-
paring for anything other than rotations to Iraq and Afghanistan.

Figure 7.4. Westervelt Board Interwar Years (1919–39) Chief of

Artillery with American Expeditionary Force (AEF) Staff. Courtesy
of Morris Swett Library.

It was not until 2017 that the US Army began a formal shift from the
COIN-centric mindset to one focused on LSCO against a peer threat. The
2018 Defense budget authorized almost $700 billion in defense spending
to include funding for force modernization and, specifically, fire support
systems. However, the improvement of existing fire support systems was
not enough to close the gap with the peer threat fires systems. The US
Army arguably requires both additional modern systems and a change in
mindset. The additional funding and a shift in training will help this pro-
cess. But critical to success in LSCO will be a concurrent movement away
from brigade-based operations. The US Army has begun reconstructing
doctrine with the 2017 publication of Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations,
and the further conforming of each warfighting function’s doctrine to the
87
multi-domain operations concept. This “reconstruction” of the army’s par-
adigm, shifting from COIN to LSCO, should be treated as a long-term
goal, one that will require engagement from Army staff at all levels.
Because the campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan featured bri-
gade-based COIN-centric operations, division and corps staffs did not
practice the synchronization of fires in large-scale combat operations.
Further, many field artillery units at lower levels saw their individual
and collective skills deteriorate as they were forced to conduct non-stan-
dard missions such as convoy security.8 Another result of the shift to bri-
gade-centric COIN operations was the 2005 deactivation of the division
artillery (DIVARTY). The recent reactivation of the DIVARTY is a step
in the right direction to address the shortfall in field artillery capabilities.
However, the reestablished DIVARTYs do not include organic indirect
fire systems which are critical to provide deep shaping fires. The lack
of organic indirect-fire assets challenges the DIVARTY to accomplish
fire support tasks with either attached indirect-fire assets from corps or
with brigade combat team (BCT) organic artillery battalions. These is-
sues primarily revolve around four overarching challenges: DIVARTY
organization, training and doctrine, sustainment, and the joint air-ground
integration center (JAGIC).
Division Artillery (DIVARTY) Organizational Challenges
Commanders at Kasserine Pass struggled with field artillery task orga-
nization in ways that are similar to the challenges faced by today’s artillery
leaders. For the optimal delivery of fire support, the ability to establish
strong command and support relationships is paramount. During COIN
and other stability operations, the ability to conduct precision fires in dense
urban terrain becomes the most important task. In large-scale combat op-
erations, however, massing, focusing, and synchronizing fires at increased
range are all critical. Frequently at Kasserine Pass, maneuver units fought
without adequate fire support because artillery units were out of position
to support, and command relationships were weak. In one of the opening
engagements of the Kasserine battle, one infantry battalion from the 1st
Infantry Division fought with only minimal artillery support provided by
a small detached French artillery element rather than an American unit.
Only later in the battle did the US Army 33rd Field Artillery Battalion
become available to support the 1st Infantry Division’s forces. But rather
than employ the battalion’s guns to provide fires for the division, the 33rd
Battalion was held in reserve status and placed out of range.9

88
 Recently, US Army division warfighter exercise observers have found
problems with task organization and positioning of artillery similar to
those at Kasserine Pass. For example, Fires observers consistently find
artillery units out of position, unable to mass fires, and not synchronized
with the other warfighting functions.10 To be fair, actual combat opera-
tions at Kasserine Pass were not precisely the same as operations during
modern day warfighter simulation exercises. The similarities, however, are
evocative and certainly warrant further analysis. Many of these current
challenges concern the DIVARTY commander’s lack of formal authority
and capacity to standardize artillery training across the division as well as
the lack of organic field artillery systems at the division level.

Figure 7.5. M142 High-Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS). Department

of Defense photo by Lance Cpl. Joseph Scanlan.

Army Forces Command’s (FORSCOM) decision to reestablish DI-

VARTYs in divisions without organic field artillery battalions could re-
sult in similar challenges to those experienced at Kasserine Pass. The
FORSCOM implementation order included the attachment of the BCT
field artillery battalions to the DIVARTY, while the battalions remain or-
ganic to the brigade combat teams.11 Many division commanders are em-
powering DIVARTY commanders to standardize training and further cer-
tify the direct support battalions. However, an attached relationship rather
than an organic relationship limits the DIVARTY commander’s ability to
accomplish this task.

89
 Having different BCT training and deployment schedules proves prob-
lematic in synchronizing and standardizing the training across all three
brigades in a division. De-conflicting training schedules to align with the
maneuver training tables and schedules is nothing new to these command-
ers. However, training a division for a LSCO rather than a COIN operation
requires the participation of all the BCT’s artillery battalions, which presents
significant sustainment challenges. Moreover, the attachment situation chal-
lenges the DIVARTY commander in that it creates an extra level of coordi-
nation to achieve fire support training objectives and certification. Although
DIVARTY commanders can certainly set the conditions through battery-
and battalion-level training, the challenges significantly increase in the bri-
gade, division, and corps training tables within a decentralized organization.
Command and support relationships influence the ability to mass fires,
which significantly contributes to successful maneuver operations as com-
manders learned at Kasserine Pass, and those principles prove valid to-
day. In LSCO, a habitual relationship generally works well when shaped
around the roles of direct support, general support, reinforcing, and gener-
al support reinforcing. After seventeen years of COIN, US Army staffs are,
at best, partially trained if not untrained in understanding fire support roles
in the targeting process during large-scale combat operations. The task or-
ganization of artillery systems provides the baseline of fires to support the
maneuver plan and then artillery weights the main effort. The DIVARTY
commander is limited in the ability to weight the main effort when artillery
battalions are organic to the BCTs and there is a lack of organic fires assets
at the division level.
It was not until modularity and the formation of modular brigades
that the Army decided to make artillery battalions organic to BCTs. Col.
Douglas Macgregor served in the Gulf War at the Battle of 73rd Easting
and contributed significantly to the body of literature concerning US Army
task organization challenges. In his book Breaking the Phalanx, Macgregor
argues that the BCT should be modeled on the armored cavalry regiment.12
In that type of unit, the howitzer batteries were decentralized down to the
squadron level. Many times, these batteries became marginally trained as
a result of the lack of experienced senior-level artilleryman at the squadron
level. Moreover, some maneuver commanders lacked the necessary skills
to train artillery formations. Sometimes these batteries were highly trained
and provided timely and responsive fires to the squadron; however, this
was the exception. Because of this situation, commanders have discussed
the centralization of the howitzer batteries at the regimental level. This

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dynamic allows the regimental commander to further standardize training
across all three batteries and gain a higher level of training proficiency. A
similar dynamic exists at the division level with the reestablishment of the
DIVARTYs under the modular brigade concept.
With modularity, the BCT commander owns the artillery battalion as
an organic asset and is therefore responsible for training them, a relation-
ship similar to that which the squadron commander in the armored cavalry
regiment has with the howitzer batteries. The BCT commander, much like
the squadron commander, has challenges in training these artillery forma-
tions to standard, command and support relationships, massing fires, and
timeliness of fires. Exacerbating this situation is the fact that the last sev-
enteen years of COIN-centric operations required minimal artillery sup-
port, with many artillery units conducting non-standard missions instead.
This has resulted in the degradation of artillery skills required for effective
fire support during large-scale combat operations.
In a 2007 white paper titled “The King and I,” three former maneuver
brigade commanders explained the continued challenges that the artillery
branch faced as a result of modularity and the COIN-centric operational fo-
cus.13 These commanders stressed that young battery commanders who grew
up conducting COIN-centric, non-standard missions will be inadequately
prepared to command a fires battalion that is organic to a BCT.14 While this
decentralized organization worked well for small-scale brigade-level COIN
operations, it has proven problematic for division- and corps-level opera-
tions where command support relationships, the ability to mass fires, the ex-
ecution of precision fires, and the shaping of deep areas are keys to success.
The concept of centralized versus decentralized artillery is nothing
new to the US Army. US military leaders in the 1920s struggled with a
similar conundrum. In 1921, one officer addressed the issue in this way:
“What should be the principles of training? They must vary somewhat
to meet circumstances, but surely the basis should be decentralization.”15
The concept of decentralization shaped the mindset of the US Army in
the 1920s and 1930s just as it has in the Army since the end of the Cold
War. As illustrated in the battle at Kasserine Pass, decentralization created
significant challenges for US forces and generally proved to be ineffective
against a conventional threat in a large-scale battle.
Decentralization resulted in mostly negative consequences for Maj.
Gen. Lloyd R. Fredendall at Kasserine. Fredendall, the II Corps com-
mander at the Battle of Kasserine Pass, has been criticized by historians

91
for his role in the battle, especially his unwillingness to array his forces
properly in order to defend against the experienced Afrika Korps. Lessons
learned from the battle highlighted Fredendall’s acquiescence to the dis-
persion of his combat power before the battle.16 At Kasserine Pass, he only
commanded portions of his three organic divisions as his higher head-
quarters directed the corps commander to detach significant elements of
his divisions to support Allied units.17 With artillery units detached and
decentralized across the battlefield, II Corps struggled to establish effec-
tive command and support relationships as well as the massing of effec-
tive fires. Currently, the US Army modernization efforts emphasize range,
precision, and rate of fire rather than adding additional artillery systems.
Modernization efforts alone will not close the gap with our potential peer
threats. Ideally, if overmatch is the ultimate goal, the US Army would
need to continue to emphasize range, precision, and increased rate of fire
but also add rocket systems at the division level. If they do not, artillery
commanders will be challenged in achieving effective fires against a peer-
threat with minimal artillery assets, decentralized organizations, and prob-
lematic command and support relationships.
The principles of strong command and support relationships and mass-
ing fires remain two of the key lessons learned at Kasserine Pass and in
the North African campaign. Maj. Gen. Ernest N. Harmon, commanding
general of the 1st Armored Division in North Africa, referred to the prin-
ciple of mass as it relates to fires: “If you think you can take an objective
with a toothpick, use a baseball bat to make sure.”18 The “toothpick” refers
to precision fires while the baseball bat symbolizes massed fires. Com-
manders today should continue to train on the “toothpick” approach with
precision fires in an urban environment; however, the commander must
also achieve focused and massed fires against a peer threat in a LSCO.
Division artillery commanders today face similar challenges with prob-
lematic command and support relationships in achieving mass with the
three artillery battalions organic to the BCTs if not given the opportunity
to centralize and train these battalions to achieve division-level massing or
be given organic fires assets in the DIVARTY.
The DIVARTY commander can provide the best fire support for di-
vision operations if the BCT artillery battalions are organic to the DI-
VARTY, and with the organization of additional organic multiple rocket
launch artillery battalions in the DIVARTY. The additional multiple rocket
launcher battalions would allow the division to best achieve deep shap-
ing fires in the general support and reinforcing roles. This dynamic would

92
prove critical in an expeditionary capacity. Centralizing the cannon and
rocket artillery battalions at the division level is critical if the division
commander is to enjoy stronger command and support relationships which
in turn facilitate timely, synchronized, and massed fires. This centraliza-
tion would also allow the DIVARTY commander to train and prepare these
artillery formations in expeditionary requirements for a LSCO. As noted
earlier regarding the Battle of Kasserine Pass, the artillery formations be-
came detached, decentralized, and dispersed resulting in ineffective com-
mand and support relationships and fires. Similarly, in an expeditionary
LSCO, the current decentralized BCT artillery battalions would be widely
dispersed and challenged with fragile command and support relationships,
again affecting their ability to mass fires at the division level. Conversely,
a DIVARTY commander given the authority and centralized organization
could best train the formation from the individual level through the divi-
sion level on collective skills to achieve success.
Flexibility proved to be an important factor at the Battle of Kasserine
Pass and continues to apply today. The Army’s official lessons learned
published after the battle of Kasserine Pass noted: “[a]ll the reports point
to the axiom that flexibility in planning and execution is one of the most
vital elements in all artillery operations.”19 An organic and centralized re-
lationship allows flexibility, giving the DIVARTY commander authority
over the BCT artillery battalions through battery- and battalion-level cer-
tification. Only by exception will the BCT be able to provide the level of
expertise required to effectively certify artillery formations at battery and
battalion levels, while the DIVARTY can provide that higher-level staff
expertise through the collective tasks at the battery and battalion level. Us-
ing a DIVARTY Red Book (artillery standard operating procedures) stan-
dards and the artillery table training methodology, the DIVARTY would
train and certify the batteries and battalions, always staying one step ahead
of the maneuver training. Subsequently, the artillery battalions should be
attached back to the BCTs for collective maneuver training and certifi-
cation leading up to a warfighter exercise, combat training center (CTC)
rotation, or deployment. It is at the collective level of training (above bat-
tery) where artillery units often struggle to achieve effective command and
support relationships, timely fires, massed fires, and focused fires. The is-
sue remains if the army can best achieve this with battalions organic to the
DIVARTY or organic to the BCTs. The DIVARTY would be allowed the
necessary flexibility to train these artillery formations to a high standard
through its centralized and organic organization.

93
 The primary responsibility of the DIVARTY commander as the fire
support coordinator (FSCOORD) is to coordinate, integrate, synchronize,
and employ fires for the division commander. Moreover, the DIVARTY
must be able to mass fires, employ radars, plan and oversee resupply rates,
and execute division-level suppression of enemy air defenses (SEAD).
The DIVARTY provides mission command for training management and
certification for the BCT’s field artillery battalions and fire support cells.
Finally, the DIVARTY oversees the training and certification of the divi-
sion fire support cell to achieve coordination, integration, and synchroni-
zation of fires.20 Commanders will find it difficult to achieve these ends
under the current decentralized organization and command relationship.
Leading up to Kasserine Pass, the Army grappled with challenges on
how to effectively organize artillery. The difficulties that contemporary
leaders now face are hauntingly similar. To effectively achieve massed and
focused fires against a peer threat, the DIVARTY should include organic
multiple rocket launchers. Assigning a field artillery brigade as a force
field artillery headquarters has proved problematic without a habitual rela-
tionship. In their white paper titled The King and I, Sean MacFarland, Mi-
chael Shields, and Jeffrey Snow argued this point and moreover contended
that the habitual relationship would lead to improved training, mentoring,
and support.21 The best way to achieve the most effective division-level
fire support is to centralize cannon battalions at the division-level and add
multiple rocket launchers.
As early as 1921, military leaders had discussed the advantages and dis-
advantages of artillery centralization or decentralization. In a 1921 article in
the Field Artillery Journal, Lt. Col. W. H. F. Weber stated: “There are doubt-
less advantages in allowing the Artillery to run itself, but the deciding factor
appears to be that unless you have trained together and close neighborhood
in peace, you will not get genuine cooperation in war.”22 By “running itself,”
Weber refers to a centralized organization that allowed “training together” to
further achieve unit cohesion, improved bonding, and command and support
relationships. Centralizing the artillery at the brigade level worked well for
brigade-level operations. But current and future division-level operations re-
quire centralization at the division level. Division-level artillery centraliza-
tion will facilitate the establishment of habitual relationships during training
and will lead to effective fire support in wartime.
Training and Doctrine Challenges
Like artillery leaders at Kasserine in 1943, today’s DIVARTY com-
manders have challenges related to the ability to standardize artillery bat-

94
talion training across the division. Currently, the commander is limited in
the ability to standardize training under the current structure due to task
organization and command and support relationship challenges. Opera-
tions at Kasserine Pass suffered as a result of atrophied training readiness
and experience; in some cases, improvement came when new command-
ers arrived on the battlefield. For example, Brig. Gen. Stafford Le Roy
Irwin, division artillery commander of the 9th Infantry Division, arrived
at Kasserine Pass five days after the battle started and achieved success
after he re-organized his guns, concentrating them in a three-mile arc to
effectively mass and counter enemy fires.23 The 2014 FORSCOM DI-
VARTY implementation order gives the DIVARTY commander authority
to plan, execute, and assess all field artillery (FA) individual and collective
training to include training guidance and approval of unit training plans
and programs. This includes mission essential task list (METL) guidance
to ensure the FA battalion METL supports the BCT’s METL, to include
unit and section training and certifications.24 However, the current com-
mand authority and the attached relationship limit the DIVARTY com-
mander’s ability to achieve these ends. Therefore, if not corrected, today’s
DIVARTY commander could experience a similar situation on a modern
battlefield as Brig. Gen. Irwin faced at Kasserine in 1943.
The artillery units at Kasserine Pass lacked a commonly practiced doc-
trine to support a fight against the peer threat that they faced in the Ger-
man forces. To prevent a similar situation, US Army artillery commanders
standardize training across the division artillery formation in the form of
standard operating procedures (SOP). Traditionally, US Army field artil-
lery soldiers communicate these SOPs in the form of a Red Book; and this
standardization can best be accomplished through an organic relationship
by centralizing the brigade artillery battalions at DIVARTY, assigning ad-
ditional artillery battalions to DIVARTY, or both. The latest version of FM
3-0, Operations, with a focus on LSCO against a peer threat is a step in the
right direction.25 However, much of accompanying field artillery doctrine
has yet to conform to FM 3-0 and must be updated to allow a fully nested
Red Book. New doctrine and subsequent Red Book production will help in
deconstructing the COIN-centric field artillery mindset and reconstructing it
to focus on becoming a combat multiplier in large-scale combat operations.
Leading up to Kasserine Pass, there were significant indicators that
US units lacked proficiency in combat skills. Many of these same indica-
tors are apparent in recent training observations. Based on observations
from warfighter exercises, fires are not consistently timely. Further, artil-
lery units are often out of position to support the fight, or they move too
95
aggressively forward of maneuver units and find themselves in a direct fire
fight.26 With flexibility in mind, a feasible option is to allow the DIVARTY
to centralize the BCT cannon battalions in an organic organization and fur-
ther include organic multiple rocket launcher battalions in the DIVARTY.
The cannon battalions can be attached back to the BCTs leading up to the
maneuver battalion collective training during a CTC rotation. Also, senior
army leaders should consider habitually aligning fires brigades to divi-
sions. With these relationships, the DIVARTY which enjoys reinforcing
fires from a fires brigades could not only focus on the division deep area
but could also reinforce the BCT artillery battalions in the close area.
Sustainment Challenges
In large-scale combat operations against a peer adversary in the near
future, artillery units will likely face critical sustainment issues. Army
Doctrine Publication (ADP) 3-09.90, Division Artillery Operations and
Fire Support for the Division, indicates that division artillery can be
task-organized with up to five cannon or rocket battalions. This requires
a close relationship between the division artillery and the sustainment
brigade supporting division operations. Unlike a field artillery brigade,
DIVARTYs do not possess organic sustainment battalions. The Army’s de-
cision to field DIVARTYs without this type of battalion further challenges
the DIVARTY to achieve sustained indirect fires. In a combined arms op-
eration against a peer threat, a force with multiple-launch rocket system
(MLRS) or high-mobility artillery rocket system battalions (HIMARS)
task-organized to the DIVARTY would challenge the DIVARTY to sustain
these additional battalions (especially with Class V ammunition). A reli-
ance on precision fires in LSCO, which results in less Class V usage, will
result in ineffective fires against large enemy formations.
The DIVARTY lacks the support of a sustainment battalion staff built
around the DIVARTY, most notably the support operations officer (SPO)
who plans and coordinates the delivery of supplies. Therefore, the DI-
VARTY S4 must conduct sustainment operations while many command-
ers task-organize the forward support companies alongside their habitually
supported battalion when placed under the division artillery. This situation
results in extended lines of communication (LOC), creating additional
resupply challenges. To overcome this present challenge, the DIVARTY
sustainment leaders (principally the DIVARTY executive officer and S4)
develop a close supporting relationship with the division G4 and support-
ing sustainment brigade to enable a sustained level of resupply in an ex-
tended operation. The inclusion of a sustainment battalion to support the

96
DIVARTY with multiple artillery battalions would be necessary to provide
effective sustainment operations in a division LSCO.
Joint Air Ground Integration Center (JAGIC) Integration
and Kasserine Pass Air Operations
US Army divisions face obstacles in the integration of the joint air-
ground integration center (JAGIC) into the division current operation
integration cell (COIC). This ineffective integration results in inefficient
fire support. Commanders in the North African campaign struggled with
similar integration challenges. In after-action reviews, these commanders
emphasized that air operations were insufficient to achieve effective close
combat air support. Maj. Gen. Omar Bradley reported in his notes on the
1st Armored Division Operations in North Africa: “Air-ground support has
not yet approached the satisfactory stage. Air support must be made more
available to ground combat units to enable them to exploit air-mission
targets of opportunity.”27 Maj. Gen. Ernest N. Harmon echoed Bradley’s
comments, noting that there was minimal close air support for US troops
in North Africa and that air-to-ground coordination was “lacking.”28 Simi-
larly, the current division and corps struggle with integrating air assets into
operations. US Army division staffs remain challenged with effectively
executing air-ground support. The inclusion of a JAGIC in the division
is a step in the right direction, but the integration of that organization has
proved problematic. In the current division organization, integrating the
JAGIC into the COIC and the fires cell is critical in coordinating and syn-
chronizing fires in support of the maneuver commander’s objectives and
dramatically affects shared understanding. As a result of lessons learned
in multiple warfighter exercises and named operations, the JAGIC allows
the division commander to integrate and coordinate fires to synchronize
Joint and Army fires; and based on Mission Command Training Program
(MCTP) warfighter exercise observations, divisions are challenged with
integrating the JAGIC into the COIC and the fires cell.29
The COIN-centric mindset still resonates within the COIC, preventing
the effective integration of the JAGIC. The division COIC remains focused
on such things as the battle update brief (BUB) and predominantly dynamic
targeting (both remnants of COIN) rather than the execution of the deliber-
ate targeting plan. This fixation could, upon the initiation of large-scale com-
bat operations, result in air-to-ground coordination problems similar to those
experienced in North Africa in 1943. MCTP observers frequently report in-
efficient COIC and JAGIC operations because events such as the BUB take

97
priority over the execution of a time-sensitive high payoff target (HPT) that
the JAGIC is attempting to engage. Moreover, many staffs do not have battle
drills in place to ensure that the common operational picture (COP) remains
updated across systems in the JAGIC, COIC, and the DIVARTY. Ineffec-
tive system integration results in a failure to keep fire support coordination
measures updated so that critical measures such as the coordinated fire line
(CFL), the fire support coordination line (FSCL), and friendly troop loca-
tions remain current.30 Without efficient integration of the JAGIC in the divi-
sion main, the division will continue to struggle with timely, synchronized,
and effective close air support (CAS) and air interdiction (AI).

Figure 7.6. Navy F/A-18E Super Hornet from the Flight Deck. Navy photo by Petty
Officer 3rd Class Kaysee Lohmann.

Integrating the DIVARTY, JAGIC, and COIC is critical to managing

airspace to synchronize CAS, AI, and surface-to-surface fires. The JAGIC
provides a joint team to control division airspace for integrated and more
efficient synchronization of fires.31 Training to achieve full integration of
the COIC, JAGIC, and the fires cell should start months before a warf-
ighter exercise, CTC rotation, or deployment. Much of this integration
training should include digital sustainment training. Further, the lessons
learned in this preparation must be captured and codified in the form of
doctrine, SOPs, and battle drills.

98
 The JAGIC is critical to executing air operations in the division air-
space in a LSCO. The JAGIC leverages elements of the air support oper-
ations squadron (ASOS) while the air support operations center (ASOC)
serves as the headquarters element and could augment the ASOS in a di-
vision COIC. If effectively integrated into the division COIC, the JAGIC
allows divisions to better shape their own deep area with more respon-
sive fires. However, this becomes more problematic within the corps. The
corps is responsible for shaping its own deep area, which will become the
division’s next deep area in an offensive operation. However, the corps
does do not have a JAGIC, the organization critical to executing this effort.
Because of this, divisions must understand how to best integrate the JAG-
IC to allow for division-level rapid execution and clearance of fires and
airspace deconfliction, both in the close area and the deep area.
Although the corps has an ASOC, its command post does not have a
JAGIC. This forces the division JAGIC to coordinate corps AI targets. In a
2014 eArmor article, Brig. Gen. Joseph P. Harrington and Dr. William M.
Rierson described the effective integration of the JAGIC into 1st Armored
Division’s Division-Main (D-Main) Command Post (CP) to provide im-
proved airspace deconfliction and coordination. The division improved in
its ability to dynamically re-task previously distributed joint air assets in
real time to support the division commander’s priorities. Yet, the division
was challenged with integrating the JAGIC into the division fires cell, air
and missile defense (AMD), and G3/aviation sections. Not everyone on
the division staff fully understood the roles, responsibilities, and functions
of each JAGIC member.32
Summary
The process of shifting the Army’s focus from COIN to large-scale
combat operations will not occur overnight. This process of shifting mind-
sets in some ways mirrors the challenges faced by US units at Kasserine
Pass. The consequences of not institutionalizing this shift today could lead
to the types of failures experienced in Tunisia in 1943. Much of the prob-
lem concerns the doctrine that shapes the thinking of our soldiers and lead-
ers. An in-depth analysis of field artillery doctrine which largely drives the
way we train, organize, man, and equip is needed. A clear understanding
and implementation across warfighting functions of the decide, detect, de-
liver, and assess (D3A) targeting methodology as a synchronizing function
is necessary. Staffs tend to gravitate toward dynamic targeting because
that is what they have done over the last seventeen years. COIN-centric

99
dynamic targeting alone will almost certainly result in desynchronized,
unfocused, and minimal massing of fires in a LSCO.
In order to change the COIN-centric mindset, commanders and their
staffs must deconstruct habits associated with COIN-centric targeting.
However, they should not forget lessons learned in COIN operations. There
is certainly a need for dynamic targeting; however, targeting in LSCO
should be predominantly of the deliberate type using the D3A methodolo-
gy with occasional dynamic target execution. Moreover, commanders and
their staffs must effectively integrate the JAGIC into the COIC and orga-
nize the DIVARTY in a division-centralized manner as the force’s field
artillery headquarters, preferably with organic multiple rocket launcher
artillery battalions. These long-range systems allow the division to shape
the deep area and achieve massed and focused fires. Additionally, these or-
ganizational adjustments will simplify the DIVARTY commander’s ability
to standardize training for the BCT field artillery battalions across the divi-
sion and result in improved fire support in the close and deep areas.

100
 Notes
1. US Army Center of Military History, Kasserine Pass Battles: Doctrines
and Lessons Learned, vol. I, part 4 (Washington, DC: 1985), 56.
2. John McCain, Restoring American Power: Recommendations for the
FY 2018-FY 2022 Defense Budget (Washington, DC: Senate Armed Services
Committee, 2017), 2.
3. “Global Firepower (GFP) Strength in Numbers,” accessed 23 August
2019, https://www.globalfirepower.com/countries-listing.asp.
4. “Global Firepower (GFP) Strength in Numbers.”
5. These potential adversaries possess the 2S7 203-mm, 2S19 152-mm, 2S5
152-mm, 2S3 152-mm, and the 2S1 122-mm. The US Army cannon platforms
include the M109A6 155-mm SP Paladin, the M777A1 155-mm towed can-
non, and the M119A1/2 105-mm towed cannon. See “Global Firepower (GFP)
Strength in Numbers.”
6. Martin Blumenson, “Kasserine Pass, 30 January–22 February 1943” in
America’s First Battles, 1776–1965, ed. Charles E. Heller and William A. Stofft
(Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1986), 240.
7. Blumenson, 240.
8. Sean MacFarland, Michael Shields, and Jeffrey Snow, “The King and
I: The Impending Crisis in Field Artillery’s Ability to Provide Fire Support to
Maneuver Commander” (white paper, US Army, 2007), 1–4.
9. US Army Center of Military History, Kasserine Pass Battles: Doctrines
and Lessons Learned, vol. I, part 2, 11–12.
10. Col. Edward T. Bohnemann, “MCTP Trends in a Decisive Action Warf-
ighter Exercise” (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Mission Command Training Program,
2015), 25.
11. FORSCOM Headquarters, “Division Artillery (DIVARTY) Implementa-
tion Order,” Fort Bragg, NC, 9 April 2014.
12. Douglas Macgregor, Breaking the Phalanx (Westport CT: Praeger, 1997).
13. MacFarland, Shields, and Snow, “The King and I,” 1–4.
14. MacFarland, Shields, and Snow, 1–4.
15. D. M. Beere, “Lessons of the War Affecting American Artillery, Par-
ticularly Divisional Artillery,” Field Artillery Journal 11 (September–October
1921): 39.
16. US Army Center of Military History, Kasserine Pass Battles, vol. I, part
2, 19.
17. Christopher M. Rein, “Major General Lloyd. R. Fredendall and II Corps
at the Battle of Kasserine Pass” in Essential to Success: Historical Case Studies
in the Art of Command at Echelons above Brigade, ed. Kelvin Crow and Joe R.
Bailey (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Army University Press, 2017), 155.
18. US Army Center of Military History, Kasserine Pass Battles: Doctrines
and Lessons Learned, vol. II, part 3 (Washington, DC: 1985), 10.
19. US Army Center of Military History, chap. 11, 21.

101
 20. FORSCOM Headquarters, “Division Artillery (DIVARTY) Implementa-
tion Order.”
21. MacFarland, Shields, and Snow, “The King and I,” 1–4.
22. Lt. Col. W. H. G. Weber, “Being a Tactical Study of the Field Artillery
Group in Retreat,” Field Artillery Journal 11 (January–February 1921): 42.
23. Rick Atkinson, An Army at Dawn: The War in North Africa, 1942–1943
(New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2002), 384.
24. FORSCOM Headquarters, “Division Artillery (DIVARTY) Implementa-
tion Order.”
25. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton DC: 2017).
26. Bohnemann, “MCTP Trends in a Decisive Action Warfighter Exercise.”
27. US Army Center of Military History, Kasserine Pass Battles, vol. II,
part 3, chap. 12, 2.
28. US Army Center of Military History, chap. 13, 10.
29. Bohnemann, “MCTP Trends in a Decisive Action Warfighter Exer-
cise,” 17.
30. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Bulletin 17-05, Mission Command
Training in Unified Land Operations, FY16 Key Observations Mission Com-
mand Training Program (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2017), 56, 61–62.
31. Department of the Army, Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-91.1/
Air Force Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures (AFTTP) 3-2.86, The Joint Air
Ground Integration Center (Washington DC: 2014).
32. Brig. Gen Joseph P. Harrington and Dr. William M. Rierson, “1st Ar-
mored Division Leads Army in Re-examining Mission Command ‘Initiatives,’”
eArmor (October–December 2014), http://www.benning.army.mil/armor/earmor/
content/issues/2014/OCT_DEC/Harrington.html.

102
 Chapter 8
Information Operations at the Division Echelon
Russell G. Conrad

The 1989 collapse of the Soviet Union sparked the beginning of

change to the Army’s operational concept of AirLand Battle. The post-So-
viet era was marked by increased involvement in peacekeeping and other
stability operations, which placed greater importance in the requirement to
influence target audiences. The Army’s increased involvement in stability
operations coincided with rapid developments in information technology,
which required commanders to better understand and operate in the in-
formation environment. The Army responded to changing missions and
environments by optimizing its organizations and doctrine. In 1996, the
Army introduced the concept of information operations (IO) by publishing
Field Manual (FM) 100-6, Information Operations, which was based in
part on experiences in Iraq, Somalia, and the Balkans. This new doctrine
acknowledged the changing information environment and supported the
Army’s evolving organizational and operational concepts.1
The Army’s new Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, published in Oc-
tober 2017, shifts the focus of the Army back toward high-intensity conflict
and emphasizes the importance of the division as an echelon. The purpose
of this chapter is to discuss the conduct of IO according to the concepts of
Unified Land Operations (ULO) as defined by the new FM 3-0, paying par-
ticular attention to the division echelon. While all echelons can employ IO
to some degree, the division is the lowest tactical echelon that has a robust
enough staff and force structure to employ all aspects of IO. When prop-
erly resourced, a modular US Army division conducting sustained combat
operations can perform IO to great effect to shape the decisive operation,
exploit adversary weaknesses, and mitigate friendly vulnerabilities.
Army doctrine has for some time defined combat power as consisting
of the six warfighting functions, tied together with leadership and informa-
tion. FM 3-0 recognizes two aspects of information as it relates to combat
power: the information required to make timely and accurate decisions
and the use of information to achieve a relative advantage over adversar-
ies. While knowledge management and information management assist
decision-making, information operations are the means to harness infor-
mation to achieve an advantage.2
The Army draws its definition of IO from joint doctrine. Joint Pub-
lication (JP) 3-13, Information Operations, defines IO as “the integrated
103
employment, during military operations, of IRCs [information-related ca-
pabilities] in concert with other lines of operation to influence, disrupt,
corrupt, or usurp the decision-making of adversaries and potential adver-
saries while protecting our own.”3 This definition immediately calls to at-
tention the dual offensive and defensive nature of IO. The definition also
concentrates the attention of IO onto decision-making, making it of direct
concern to the commander.
The Army’s Mission Command philosophy is inherent to the Army
doctrine of ULO and provides the origin of the commander’s requirement
to conduct IO. This philosophy defines three basic tasks of a command-
er, one of which is to inform and influence audiences, both internal and
external. This is why FM 3-0 describes information operations as com-
mander-centric.4 The term suggests commanders must personally involve
themselves in the struggle to control and, optimally, to dominate the in-
formation environment. Failure to engage in IO is inconsistent with the
concept of mission command.
The staff, in turn, is saddled with four tasks under Mission Command,
one of which is to manage and synchronize the employment of IRCs. The
staff officer responsible for overall synchronization is the G3 operations
officer. His chief subordinate to manage the IRCs—those things which
affect the information environment—is the IO officer. The task of synchro-
nizing these capabilities is what information operations is all about.
Controlling, or even understanding, the information environment
within a division area of operations is daunting due in part to the variety
of populations and environments it contains. A modern modular Army di-
vision has between 17,000 and 21,000 soldiers and controls two to five
maneuver brigades. Doctrine does not provide guidelines as to the size of
an area in which a division operates (this is situationally based on mission
variables); however in recent history, divisions have controlled areas as
big as the state of New York.5 Operating in an area of such size increases
the likelihood that terrain and population will vary significantly within the
division’s area of operations (AO). Just as in New York, the terrain may
vary between coastal marshland and snow-covered mountains. The divi-
sion AO is likely to include both urban and rural terrain, with respective
infrastructure differences. The size of the division AO also suggests that a
significant portion of the host nation’s economic means and resources lie
within the division AO.
All of these characteristics will have implications on information,
which is at the center of the concept of influencing as well as decision-mak-

104
ing. The sheer size of the AO may make communications problematic.
This also suggests the division and subordinate brigade commanders will
have to inform and influence a wide variety of target audiences, including
leaders of various social, political, ethnic, and religious subdivisions. Add
to this the requirement to influence enemy forces and their leaders, to in-
clude any insurgent forces, compounded with understanding and influenc-
ing allied or host-nation forces, and one begins to understand the problems
inherent to a division commander’s requirement to inform and influence.
While the physical size of a division AO creates its own problem in
the physical domain, the cognitive and informational domains add even
further complexity. The division must also concern itself with what is go-
ing on in the digital world. The division’s adversaries may be operating to
shape opinions or to communicate decisions using social media or e-mail.
As always, the division must also inform audiences at home, including
friends and family, and worldwide through public media and other chan-
nels. This adds up to a complex and varied informational environment
with a wide variety of target audiences the division commander must as-
sess, inform, and influence.
While seeking to dominate the information environment is a broad
and complex task for a division commander, divisions have a robust staff
with diverse capabilities to meet these challenges. Because it is a modular
organization, the forces assigned to a division must include an equally
robust set of capabilities that extend the commander’s ability to inform
and influence, while also enabling subordinate brigade commanders to do
the same. As stated previously, capabilities that are used to inform and
influence audiences are known as information-related capabilities (IRCs).
Some IRCs are represented by Modified Table of Organization and Equip-
ment (MTOE) units, and some are represented by those capabilities that
are organic to the division’s attached brigades. The IRCs that are avail-
able to a division include Public Affairs; Military Information Support
Operations; Electronic Warfare; Cyber; Military Deception; Operations
Security; Physical Destruction; Civil Affairs; Soldier Leader Engagement;
Presence, Profile, and Posture; Combat Camera; and other activities used
to influence and inform (see Figure 8.1).
The Information Operations Staff
The G3 is the staff officer who synchronizes division operations on be-
half of the commander. When thinking in terms of IO, audiences are influ-
enced by everything the division says as well as by everything the division
does. The G3 has always had the responsibility for what the division does,

105
but placing the major IRCs subordinate to the G3 gives one staff element
authority over what the division does and says. It, therefore, makes sense
to organize the IO function within the Movement and Maneuver warfight-
ing function, with the IO officer being the G3’s primary executor of syn-
chronizing the division’s efforts to inform and influence.6 While organized
under the Movement and Maneuver warfighting function, the IO officer
works closely with the Fires function as part of the targeting group, as well
as with the other warfighting function working groups.
The division staff contains an IO section organic to the staff, organized
within the Movement and Maneuver Cell under the G3. The IO section
consists of a lieutenant colonel IO officer, a major deputy IO officer, a
captain operations security (OPSEC) officer, and a master sergeant Public
Affairs noncommissioned officer (there is no enlisted IO specialty). Ad-
ditionally, the G5 Plans Cell has a major IO plans officer. The IO section
facilitates the IO working group and forms part of its core.

Figure 8.1. Division Information Operations Assets. Created by the author.

The 1st IO Command at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, and three Reserve

Component tactical IO groups (TIOG) can assign deployable field support
teams (FST) to augment a unit staff. A FST is of variable size, but typically
will have between two and six members. They can consist of IO officers
with general purpose skills, or they can provide specialists in military de-
ception (MILDEC), OPSEC, or cyber. These FSTs increase the supported
unit’s capability to plan and analyze IO. The FST also brings a significant
digital reach-back capability to provide detailed enemy and cultural anal-
ysis that may not be resident in the supported unit. Additionally, the 1st IO
106
Command and the TIOGs can provide vulnerability assessment teams to
identify and improve a unit’s cyber, communications security (COMSEC),
and OPSEC posture. Finally, the 1st IO Command can provide a cyber
opposing force (OPFOR) during division exercises.
Information-Related Capabilities
The two IRCs that speak directly to audiences include Public Affairs
(PA) and Military Information Support Operations (MISO). These two
IRCs address both domestic and international audiences through direct
communications. They are also similar in that they receive themes and
message guidance from higher echelons through their own functional hi-
erarchy. It is a common misconception that the IO officer develops the
commander’s themes and messages. This is actually done jointly by the
Public Affairs officer (PAO) and the MISO officer to determine how best
to employ and modify the themes and messages passed to them, based on
the division commander’s guidance. The IO officer acts as a catalyst in this
effort, helping to distill these ideas into a single set of command themes
and messages while simultaneously serving to ensure that PA and MISO
messaging is harmonious.
PA is unique among all the IO capabilities in that it is represented by
a personal staff officer with direct access to the commander. This relation-
ship is driven by the commander’s responsibility to keep the American
population informed. More than any other, this capability ensures the bal-
ance between transparency and operations security (OPSEC) that main-
tains the Army’s good reputation in the eyes of the American population.
It is in the best interest of the commander and the IO officer to protect the
credibility of the PAO. The IO officer and the PAO work jointly, under
the direction of the commander and the chief of staff, to synchronize and
harmonize what the unit says. As a function, PA falls within the Mission
Command warfighting function (see Figure 8.2).
The division is well-manned to execute public affairs. The PA officer
is a lieutenant colonel and is generally located in the main command post
with four PA enlisted soldiers. The deputy PAO is a major who is usually
located in the tactical command post (TAC) with a senior noncommis-
sioned officer (NCO).7 The organic PA section conducts planning, pre-
pares and coordinates press releases and media engagements, and prepares
command information products (newsletters, etc.). It is also common for
the PAO section to be reinforced by a Public Affairs detachment (PAD) of
eight soldiers, led by a captain. A mobile PA detachment (MPAD) of twen-
ty-one soldiers, led by a major, may also augment the division, although

107
these assets are more commonly assigned to support a corps. The MPAD
has the ability to produce mass broadcast and print products. At subordi-
nate echelons, each brigade within the division is authorized a PA officer
and an NCO, and may also be augmented by a PAD.8

Figure 8.2. Information Operations Capabilities Grouped by Warfighting Function.

Created by the author.

MISO was formerly known as Psychological Operations, or PSYOP

(PSYOP now refers specifically to the PSYOP branch and PSYOP organi-
zations; PSYOP units and soldiers conduct MISO). Because MISO direct-
ly influences foreign audiences, it is always a primary IRC. The division’s
organic PSYOP staff includes a lieutenant colonel, a major, a sergeant ma-
jor, and a sergeant first class.9 These individuals make up part of a Division
Engagement Cell within the Movement and Maneuver Cell that is split be-
tween the main and tactical command posts. Typically, a division will also
have attached a 105-person tactical PSYOP company to execute MISO
throughout the division AO. This company is made up of four detachments
commanded by captains, each with four three-man tactical PSYOP teams
(also known as military information support teams, or MIST). The PSYOP
company can operate either centralized under division control, or its de-
tachments can be placed in support of subordinate brigades.10
The brigades within a division have a sergeant first class PSYOP NCO
in the Fires Cell.11 Unless they have PSYOP teams attached, brigades ex-
ecute MISO using organic assets, such as unit patrols. It is important to
realize that the division and its brigades conduct MISO whether or not
there is an attached PSYOP unit.
108
 Civil Affairs (CA) is an IRC because it influences local government
and non-government operations, as well as the population in general. The
division staff includes a CA lieutenant colonel and major as well as a CA
sergeant first class assigned to the tactical command post (TAC CP), a CA
master sergeant and CA platoon sergeant in the main command post, along
with a CA major plans officer in the G5 section.12 These staff members
make up the G9 Civil Affairs operations element of the Engagement Cell
within the Movement and Maneuver Cell.
A CA battalion will typically be attached to a division. The battalion’s
four line companies are designed to support a brigade or a brigade-sized
area. The battalion’s headquarters reinforces the division G-9 staff and
provides a civil-military operations center (CMOC) capability.13 When a
division or brigade does not have a CA unit attached, the commander con-
ducts civil-military operations using organic assets.
Combat Camera (COMCAM) provides video and photographic docu-
mentation of military operations. While Combat Camera provides a Signal
function rather than a Public Affairs function, its products are primarily
used to provide evidence for various official purposes and can also be
released for PA and MISO use. The Army’s Combat Camera teams are
provided by the 55th Signal Company from Fort Meade, Maryland, and
the 982nd Signal Company from East Point, Georgia. A division may be
attached a COMCAM team of two or three soldiers for a specific period of
time or operation, but is not likely to receive such a unit for the long term.
When a division does not have a COMCAM team attached, it can create
this capability by using organic soldiers with personally owned cameras
but must have procedures in place for collecting, reviewing, and disposi-
tion of images.14
Cyber Electromagnetic Activities (CEMA) influences the use of the
Cyber environment and electromagnetic spectrum, thereby influencing
decision-making. This includes electronic attack, electronic collection and
exploitation, and defensive activities. CEMA falls into the Mission Com-
mand warfighting function, and is represented on the staff by a CEMA
cell of four soldiers, led by a lieutenant colonel Electronic Warfare (EW)
officer (specialty 17A).15 The CEMA cell assists in targeting, and in the
coordination/de-confliction of electronic and cyber-attacks (especially
jamming), collection, and defense. The EW officer works closely with the
G6 Signal Spectrum Manager (who is part of the CEMA cell) and the G6
Information Assurance section. The division might be attached a Cyber
Support team to augment its staff capabilities. Such a team provides reach-
back capabilities that include both offensive and defensive cyber.
109
 It is critical to note that other than short-range counter-IED devices,
the Army currently has no ground-based jammers. For this reason, the
division depends on assets requested from the Air Component Command,
which generally includes EC-130 Compass Call (US Air Force), EA-18
Growler systems (US Navy), or EA-6B Prowler (US Marine Corps) sys-
tems. While the division does not “own” these systems, it is one of the
primary customers of these systems. A division area of operations is po-
tentially large enough to contain the effects of these jamming systems.
Special Technical Operations (STO) includes any classified systems
that exist outside the division’s capabilities that can be used to influence
decision-making. The division staff includes a STO Plans officer (specialty
40A) in the G5 plans cell. Additionally, the division might receive a STO
liaison officer to assist in targeting and coordination of STO effects. In
employing STO, the division determines a specific effect which the STO
officer coordinates to achieve.
Information-Related Capabilities Executed by Organic Assets
There are several information capabilities that are typically executed
by assets within the division. These actions are not represented by specific
MTOE assets, as MISO and CA are, but are represented by an officer on
the staff. The IO officer can step in to manage and coordinate those actions
which are not otherwise represented.
Audiences are influenced by their perception of military operations.
Each time a unit sends out a patrol, it is sending a message to various
audiences. The concept of Presence, Profile, and Posture (PPP) allows
a unit to manage such perceptions. The presence of military forces can
be menacing or reassuring. A show of force is an example of a managed
presence. Profile influences perception of the magnitude and intensity of
operations. Units can conduct operations in a high-profile manner, where
they are readily identifiable, or can operate as a small and nonthreatening
presence. Unit profile can support both military deception and OPSEC
efforts. A unit’s posture refers to how aggressively the unit presents itself
and conducts force protection. The concept of escalation uses PPP and
soldier and leader engagements to manage perception in conjunction with
security operations and leader engagements. The IO officer should assist
the G3 in developing a plan for escalation, whereby the division can man-
age the perceptions of populations and decision-makers.
Soldier and leader engagement (SLE) describes all face-to-face meet-
ings between soldiers and target audiences. Management of SLE activities
allows the division to align and synchronize directly engaging local lead-
110
ers to influence their activities. The IO section often serves as the SLE
manager within a division to ensure unity of effort and increase the effec-
tiveness of all engagements. In SLE, key leaders such as the division com-
mander, sergeant major, and deputy commanders are treated as weapon
systems, engaging selected targets to achieve identified effects, typically
as part of a larger initiative.
Military deception (MILDEC) is one of the oldest tools in the IRC
“kit-bag.” The objective of deception is to influence a decision-maker’s
behavior by presenting a false or ambiguous perception of reality. To pres-
ent a believable false narrative at the division echelon, MILDEC requires
the coordinated effort of multiple IRCs and unit activities, which places it
squarely in the realm of IO. The IO functional area (FA30) is the propo-
nent of MILDEC for the Army. While there is not an authorized position
for a MILDEC officer on the division staff, the IO Plans officer can serve
in this role. MILDEC is not planned as an afterthought, but is intrinsic to
a course of action (COA). It is therefore introduced in Step 3, COA De-
velopment, of the MDMP and is synchronized in Step 4, COA Analysis.
The division commander has a variety of capabilities that must be
coordinated to support a deception, including MISO, OPSEC, camouflage
and concealment, physical destruction, and PPP.16 The division Plans Cell
can form a Deception Working Group, which is generally led by a quali-
fied MILDEC officer (such as the IO planner). The deception will be exe-
cuted by multiple units across the division, many of which will not know
their activities are part of a deception effort. The number of leaders who
are aware of the deception plan is limited to as few as possible, in order to
preserve security. OPSEC and MILDEC are two sides of the same coin:
as MILDEC presents a false reality, OPSEC attempts to hide the true pic-
ture. Therefore, the OPSEC officer is always a member of the Deception
Working Group.
OPSEC is often understood to consist of routine security items in-
corporated in unit standard operating procedures. While this is a facet of
OPSEC, it is not the focus of OPSEC in regard to IO. OPSEC involves the
idea that divisions generally do not have the resources to protect all infor-
mation, so efforts concentrate on identifying and protecting the discrete set
of information that is critical to a particular operation. The division is the
lowest echelon that provides a dedicated OPSEC staff position, that being
a captain OPSEC officer (FA30) in the IO element of the tactical CP. As
with MILDEC, other IRCs are involved in providing OPSEC.

111
 While all the activities above are commonly listed as IRCs, anything
the division does to affect the information environment can be considered
an IRC. Other activities which primarily affect the physical environment
but which can be used as an IRC might include physical security, ma-
neuver of forces, reconnaissance activities, release of information to the
public, or lethal attack.
It is a common misconception that IO is synonymous with nonlethal
means. If the division employs lethal means to affect an adversary’s deci-
sion-making, those means are considered to be an IRC. Whether in large-
scale combat operations or stability operations, divisions will employ lethal
means such as joint fires, organic surface-to-surface fires, maneuver forc-
es, or special forces to attack enemy command and control nodes. When
using these operations to disrupt or otherwise influence decision-making,
those lethal means are used as an IRC. Even when influencing a decision is
not the primary purpose of lethal force, there may be secondary effects on
decision-makers or populations that concern the IO officer. The role of the
IO officer is to synchronize lethal effects with other activities to maximize
the overall effect and mitigate undesired consequences. As an example, if
an enemy command post is targeted by division fires in order to disrupt
enemy control of operations, the IO officer might propose adjusting the
timing of the attack to a period when a key enemy decision is expected.
This might increase the likelihood of disruption and prevent the enemy
from re-establishing control in time to make the decision.
Information Operations in Planning
The division commander uses the Army Design Methodology (ADM)
to conduct conceptual planning. The object of this methodology is to en-
sure that, in a complex and ill-defined situation, the commander under-
stands the problem and develops a conceptual approach to solve it. The
ADM should allow the commander to visualize how information plays a
role in an operation. There is no required product derived from the ADM,
other than the commander’s increased understanding; however, there are
several products that can assist the IO officer. Primary among these is a
narrative. The unit narrative is a paragraph which describes what the divi-
sion is trying to accomplish and why, its relationships with the host nation,
its population, and any adversaries. While not intended for direct trans-
mission to a target audience, the narrative describes the story the division
would have all audiences believe. A well-written narrative will assist in
developing themes and messages, lines of effort, and IO objectives when
the staff begins detailed planning using MDMP.17 The friendly narrative is
generally opposed by a conflicting enemy narrative.
112
 Division staffs conduct detailed planning using the Military Decision
Making Process (MDMP). Unlike the conceptual planning of the ADM,
the MDMP results in an executable operations order. The IO section of the
staff contributes several products to this effort.
In mission analysis, the IO section assists the Intelligence Preparation
of the Battlefield (IPB) by describing and assessing the information envi-
ronment (IE). The IE includes the systems that exist within the physical
world that transmit, process, and collect information. The IE also includes
the information itself. This information exists in digital form or is trans-
mitted using the electromagnetic spectrum, or by aural or visual means.
The specific product the IO contributes is a combined information
overlay. This is a series of overlays which, when combined, provide in-
sight and allow conclusions regarding the IE. There is no standard pro-
cedure for arranging this information; it is situationally dependent. One
example uses the categories of terrain, infrastructure, media, population,
third-party organizations, and culture. Another method includes an over-
lay for each of the elements of PMESII: political, military, economic, so-
cial, information, and infrastructure. However it is done, the IO section is
responsible for assembling and maintaining the product, conducting the
analysis, and presenting it to the commander. This effort also includes in-
corporating information from other staff elements.
The second IPB product the IO section provides is an analysis of the
enemy’s information warfare capabilities and likely courses of action. The
IO officer coordinates this analysis with the G2 section and advises the G2
on its integration with the overall enemy courses of action. As part of the
IPB, the IO section contributes an analysis of target audiences. The gener-
al concept here is to identify which populations and decision-makers the
commander should inform and influence. The command generally does
not have the time and resources to engage all target audiences. The IO sec-
tion coordinates the effort to identify and prioritize those target audienc-
es appearing most important. Several other staff sections also contribute
to this. Both MISO staff elements routinely analyze audiences within the
population. The PAO will analyze media organizations and personalities,
as well as the audiences of various media platforms foreign and domes-
tic. The G9/CA officer determines which government and nongovernment
leaders and organizations might pertain to the mission. Discussion with
the G2 will identify which hostile leaders are potential targets—to include
conventional force commanders, insurgent and criminal organizations,
and hostile social and political organizations. There exists no standard

113
product to present this information, although the results can incorporate
into the combined information overlay.
The IO officer will also analyze friendly IO capabilities. Categorizing
capabilities according to IRC, the IO officer includes those assets (such
as EW) that exist outside the division but which can provide support.
Since other staff sections represent most IRCs, the IO officer collects this
information in coordination with them. As with other staff sections and
warfighting functions, the IO officer contributes to the staff analysis of
specified, implied, and essential tasks; Commander’s Critical Information
Requirements (CCIR) and Essential Elements of Friendly Information
(EEFI); risk analysis; and the initial information collection plan. As de-
scribed above, the IO is also involved with assisting the PAO and MISO
officer to develop the commander’s themes and messages.
The IO officer pays special attention to the rules of engagement (ROE)
to understand how they will affect the information environment. The IO
officer tries to anticipate where the use of force might cause perceptions
incongruous with command themes. For instance, enemy activity within
populated areas may cause a probability of collateral damage. Where the
division cannot avoid such actions, the IO officer visualizes how to shape
expectations and prepares to manage unfavorable consequences. The divi-
sion PAO and operational law officer are key allies in this analysis.
Information operations are a shaping operation; however, there are
situations where the success of the decisive operation may be highly de-
pendent on the success of IO. The IO officer provides input early during
development of each COA. For each COA, the IO officer expresses how to
achieve a decisive advantage in the information environment at the critical
time and place. The IO officer describes this in a distinct scheme of IO,
including a set of IO objectives which are nested within the broad concept
of the COA.18
IO objectives are specific outcomes that IO will accomplish in support
of the overall concept. They describe how IO will shape the information
environment for the decisive operation and other shaping operations. The
scheme of IO describes the cumulative effect of the IO objectives, and
how they result in creating a decisive advantage. IO objectives refer to
what IO will achieve as a whole; they typically do not specify tasks for
specific IRCs. The details of each IRC contribution to the IO objectives
are left for detailed development of an IO synchronization matrix. Excep-
tions to this may occur when an individual IRC plays a major role in the

114
COA broad concept, as might happen when incorporating MILDEC (a
feint, for example).19
The scheme of IO and IO objectives is typically enough to describe
how IO will support a COA. Prior to beginning COA analysis, commonly
done through means of war-gaming, the IO section must determine the
details defining how to accomplish each IO objective. In collaboration
with the IRC staff representatives, the IO officer develops IRC tasks that
contribute to each IO objective. Not every IRC will contribute a task to
accomplishing every IO objective, and some IRC tasks may contribute to
multiple IO objectives. The IO officer prepares a synchronization matrix
which identifies the task, purpose, and effect required of each IRC for each
IO objective. This matrix should be detailed enough to identify the spe-
cific systems, capabilities, and units involved.20 These tasks will translate
into specific instructions to units during orders production. The IO matrix
serves as a key input to COA analysis and is necessary to harmonize the
IO effort within the COA. Preparing the IO synchronization matrix com-
pletes the planning of each COA to a level of detail allowing for adequate
synchronization during COA analysis. It should, therefore, be considered
a critical step in “gathering the tools” for war-gaming.21
As war-gaming progresses, the IO section pays particular attention
to potential effects that friendly and enemy actions may have within the
information environment. This may include effects on the population and
non-military decision-makers. This should also include enemy informa-
tion warfare actions and reactions. To ensure these activities are adequate-
ly addressed during the wargame, the IO section may assist the red team
player (the staff member assigned the role of enemy force commander) in
determining enemy use of the information environment. The IO officer,
along with the G9, should also ensure that non-military hostile parties are
represented in the war game, as may be necessary.
Information Operations in Execution
Once the division publishes an order and places it into execution, the
conduct and assessment of IRC tasks are overseen by the IO element of the
current operations integration cell (COIC), either in the main or tactical
command posts. Because of a limited number of personnel, the sections
making up the Engagement Cell (CA, SF, and MISO) often combine with
the CEMA and IO sections to provide a constant presence in the COIC.
This representation in the COIC alerts the appropriate IRC staff represen-
tative outside the COIC as necessary, including the necessity for a cri-
sis-related working group.

115
 Overall execution and adjustment of IO occurs in an IO working group
(IOWG). The IOWG is a staff meeting that brings together the IRCs and
other warfighting function representatives to assess, update, and synchro-
nize IO. The IO officer leads the IOWG. The IRC representatives form
the core of the IOWG, along with G2 and G3 representatives as well as
representatives of the protection, sustainment, and fires cells. Other at-
tending staff representatives are situationally dependent and might include
the open-source intelligence officer, the division engineer, the operational
law officer, the chaplain, the division surgeon, liaison officers, and IO staff
officers from subordinate units. The IOWG meets regularly as part of the
division headquarters battle rhythm to provide routine review, assessment,
and modification of IO plans. Additionally, the IOWG meets in response
to an unforeseen event, also known as a crisis action or consequence man-
agement working group.
As part of the division battle rhythm, the IOWG forms a key part of
the division’s targeting process. The IOWG generally takes place after the
division’s assessment working group (AWG) or board. The AWG provides
a holistic assessment of the division’s AO, which forms a key input to
the IOWG. Additionally, the IO officer will seek updated guidance and
intent based on the commander’s revised understanding. The IOWG also
consolidates any assessments of ongoing IRC tasks and assesses the prog-
ress toward existing IO objectives. Each unit establishes an agenda for the
meeting based on unit requirements.
A key product of the IOWG is a set of target nominations (lethal and
non-lethal) feeding into the targeting working group. Other key outputs
of the IOWG include updates to the products developed during planning:
the scheme of IO, the IO synch matrix, collection and assessment tasks,
updated measures of effectiveness, IO objectives and associated tasks to
IRCs, and the combined information overlay. These meeting outputs will
serve as input to the targeting working group. Once approved at the target-
ing board, IO targets and collection tasks are published in a fragmentary
order (FRAGORD).
When executed in crisis action planning or for consequence manage-
ment, the same core players gather to determine how best to shape the
information environment in support of an event or an opportunity. The
key players are the G2 and G3. The group will quickly analyze the sec-
ond- and third-order effects of a course of action and will identify the key
target audiences and the desired actions of each. The group will create an
IO objective and series of actions by various IRCs that will accomplish it.

116
Conclusion
Information operations is warfare conducted at the graduate level. The
division is staffed to plan and execute IO, but the staff must have the re-
quired processes in its battle rhythm and must be practiced in these IO
planning and execution processes. The division must also be resourced
with the various organizations that provide information-related capabil-
ities. With a complete set of IRC assets, the division has the capability
to execute IO across a wide set of audiences and resource subordinate
brigades to facilitate execution. Most importantly, information operations
must have attention, direction, and emphasis from the commander, the
chief of staff, and the G3. This will ensure that IO fully supports the com-
mander’s intent and fulfills the command requirement to inform and influ-
ence audiences.

117
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 100-6, Information Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 1996), 1-1–1-14.
2. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 2-114, 2-115.
3. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Publication (JP) 3-13, Information Operations
(Washington, DC: 2014), I-1.
4. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 2-127.
5. In 2005, Multinational Task Force West in Iraq, a division-sized orga-
nization, controlled an area comprising between a quarter and a third of the
country of Iraq, approximately 140,000 square kilometers, which is roughly the
size of the state of New York. See Donald P. Wright and Col. Timothy R. Reese,
On Point II: Transition to the New Campaign (Fort Leavenworth, KS; Combat
Studies Institute Press, 2008), 605. For land mass comparison information, see
Central Intelligence Agency, World Factbook: Iraq, accessed 29 March 2018,
https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/iz.html.
6. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Command and Staff
Organization and Operations (Washington, DC: 2016), vii.
7. “MTOE 87000K100, DIV HQ AND HQ BN,” Edate 1 October
2019, US Army Directorate of Force Management, accessed 20 March
2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil/protected/reqdoc/Frame_TOE.asp?-
TOE=87000K100&PP_Choice=2&DOC_TYPE=RD_FMS&FY=21.
8. “MTOE 45503KB00 Public Affairs Detachment,” Edate 1 October
2020, US Army Directorate of Force Management, accessed 27 March 2018,
https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil/protected/reqdoc/Frame_TOE.asp?TOE=45503K-
B00&PP_Choice=2&DOC_TYPE=RD_FMS&FY=21; “MTOE 45413K000
Mobile Public Affairs Detachment,” Edate 1 October 2020, Directorate of Force
Management, accessed 27 March 2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil/protected/
reqdoc/Frame_TOE.asp?TOE=45413K000&PP_Choice=2&DOC_TYPE=RD_
FMS&FY=21; “MTOE 77202K100 Infantry Brigade Combat Team,” Edate
1 October 2019, US Army Directorate of Force Management, accessed 27
March 2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil/protected/reqdoc/Frame_TOE.asp?-
TOE=77202K100&PP_Choice=2&DOC_TYPE=RD_FMS&FY=21.
9. “MTOE 87000K100,” US Army Directorate of Force Management.
10. “MTOE 33737K100, PSYOP Company,” US Army Directorate of Force
Management, accessed 20 March 2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil.
11. “MTOE 77202K100,” US Army Directorate of Force Management,
accessed 20 March 2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil.
12. “MTOE 87000K100,” US Army Directorate of Force Management.
13. “MTOE Narrative for a Civil Affairs Battalion,” US Army Directorate of
Force Management, accessed 20 March 2018, https://fmsweb.fms.army.mil.
14. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-13, Information Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2016), 9-17.
15. “MTOE 87000K100,” US Army Directorate of Force Management.

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 16. Department of the Army, FM 3-13, 11-4.
17. To understand what a narrative is, look at the Apostles’ Creed. Com-
monly recited in Christian religions, this formal statement of the baseline beliefs
of Christianity serves as a narrative for the religion. Worded in the first person, it
is not intended for transmission to other audiences but provides a better under-
standing for practitioners. From it, however, can be derived a set of base themes
(e.g., Jesus is the Messiah and the salvation of man), which can then be modified
into messages for outside audiences (e.g., belief in Jesus will save your soul).
18. Department of the Army, FM 3-13, 4-79–4-80.
19. FM 3-13, 4-11.
20. FM 3-13, 4-14.
21. Department of the Army, FM 6-0, 9-126.

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 Chapter 9
US Army Aviation: Setting Conditions, Creating Effects across
the Operational Framework in Large-Scale Combat Operations
Lt. Col. Jason A. King

Perceptions of the eroding American competitive edge and a global rise

in great power competition threaten US interests on an increasing scale.
Russia’s assertion of military power in its near-abroad, China’s maneu-
vering for natural resources and expanded security zone, Iran’s gray area
operations across the Arabian Gulf, and North Korea’s continued pursuit
of nuclear weapons portend escalation. Russian and Chinese capabilities
in particular are existential threats to the combined interests of the United
States and its partners. The US Army trains against a variety of threats, and
none pose a higher risk than conflict with a near-peer competitor.
Mitigating the risk posed by near-peers and their emergent technolo-
gies requires reassessment of the Joint Capabilities Integration Develop-
ment System (JCIDS). As the first component in JCIDS, doctrine contains
fundamental links to all components of the system: Doctrine, Organization,
Training, Materiel, Leadership and Education, Personnel, Facilities, and
Policy (DOTMLPF-P). Doctrine is a historically tested, successful belief
system to guide the force.1 Army senior leaders continuously assess oper-
ational doctrine against forecasted threats and gaps in force capabilities.
The 2017 edition of Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, is the Ar-
my’s solution to a conceptual gap in current doctrine. It begins to mitigate
the operational risk posed by near-peer threats. The Army, while evolving
counterinsurgency (COIN) doctrine during fifteen years of contingency
combat operations, must transform its foundational belief system in the
planning and execution of combined arms operations. This change, initi-
ated in 2011 with a gradual return to the decisive action training environ-
ment (DATE), now has a catalyst in the form of the new of FM 3-0. Army
Aviation, a critical component of combined arms maneuver, also must
transform the underlying doctrinal belief system of warfighting planners
to understand how to apply, integrate, and synchronize the capabilities of
Army Aviation in large-scale combat operations (LSCO). This transforma-
tion must be most prevalent at the Army’s primary tactical headquarters
for commanding brigades in decisive action—the division. To expedite
our understanding of Army Aviation’s contribution to LSCO at the divi-
sion level, we must reinforce the historical lessons and hard-earned belief

121
systems of the past required to integrate Army Aviation capabilities with
ground maneuver forces.
A Look to the Past—World War II and the Korean War
In July of 1941, the Army Air Corps was already beginning to evolve
into what is now the US Air Force. As it did so, the Army recognized a
need for low-altitude air capability in support of the ground commander. In
field exercises at Fort Bliss, Texas, manufacturers of small light airplanes
showcased their abilities. During demonstrations, the aircraft provided
commanders increased situational awareness and control (via bullhorn)
of maneuvering units.2 However, the true value of this new capability was
much more significant than simply a commander’s tool for visualization
and control of the battlefield; it was also a combat-multiplying combined
arms asset. The Piper Cubs (also known as “Grasshoppers”) were flown
by liaison pilots and tactically controlled by field artillery brigades to ob-
serve and adjust fire. Modern rotary-wing aviators will likely not fully
appreciate the innovation and bravery of their liaison pilot predecessors.
The Piper Cubs were durable (field expedient repairable) and capable of
short takeoffs and landings on austere grass strips.3 With these capabilities,
Army liaison pilots planted the seeds that brought life to what we know
today as Army Aviation core competencies.
Initially, liaison pilots experimented with mounting weapons on the
small aircraft. They regularly dropped grenades and mortar rounds on
enemy sites during reconnaissance missions outside of artillery range.
Pilots trained for aerial “bombing” missions using a bag of flour. In the
first glimpses of the audacious and raucous nature of Army aviators, these
training projectiles sometimes made their way onto the tents and forma-
tions of fellow units.4
At the division level, liaison pilots provided reconnaissance and an-
swered the command’s priority intelligence requirements (PIR). Lacking
short-range communication systems, the pilots would often land next to
ground forces and warn them about imminent enemy engagements. Li-
aison pilots continually developed such tactics, providing situational
awareness to formations moving through dense and mountainous terrain,
marking enemy positions with smoke grenades, and delivering rations to
isolated formations. While such tactics amplified operations, the apex of
liaison pilot contributions was in locating and directing devastating artil-
lery fires against enemy forces (in and out of contact with ground forces).5
The pilots, known for their cavalier ways, laid the foundation for the Army

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Aviation culture—agility, flexibility, mission focus, and most importantly,
the sacred trust with soldiers on the ground.
The legacy of Army Aviation culture continued in the Korean War.
The introduction of rotary wing platforms began with dedicated medical
evacuation (MEDEVAC) and expanded to observation and utility helicop-
ter missions. In December 1952, the first UH-19 Chickasaw arrived and
was immediately employed resupplying artillery units.6 Helicopters did
not play a decisive role in Korea, but the potential advantages of vertical
envelopment beyond that of airborne units became evident to military and
political leaders. It was belief in this potential that led to funding, research,
and training during the post-Korea period that established Army rotary
wing capabilities as a combat multiplier.
A Look to the Past—Vietnam
Such developments were tested a decade later in Vietnam. Activated
in 1963 and sent to Vietnam in 1965, the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile)
validated vertical envelopment (a tactical maneuver in which troops are
air-dropped or inserted via air assault then attack rear or flanks of an ene-
my force, in effect cutting off or encircling that force) and many of the air
assault concepts we know today as doctrine.7 These concepts, tested and
hard-earned in a deadly environment, continue to provide valuable lessons
to all facets of Army Aviation: aircrews, planners, and leadership. Vietnam,
historically characterized as a low-intensity conflict, shares a commonality
with all wars: periodic episodes of mid- to high-intensity conflict. While
the intensity ebbed and flowed, striking the enemy’s critical capabilities in
its support area during this conflict often led to increased resistance. This
is exactly what occurred in February 1971.
In a bid to prove the capabilities of the Army of the Republic of Viet-
nam (ARVN) in the face of increasing pressure from the US public to
pull American forces out of the conflict, Operation Lam Son 719 began
on 8 February 1971. Attacking into Laos, Lam Son was the largest sus-
tained airmobile operation in the history of US Army Aviation. Execut-
ed by the 101st Airborne Division (Airmobile) with augmentation from
multiple combat aviation battalions, the operation itself featured 10,000
American troops (primarily in supporting and advising roles) and nearly
20,000 South Vietnamese troops, all focused on disrupting North Viet-
namese support bases along the so-called Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos.8
The operation relied heavily on US Army rotary wing capabilities for
mobility, firepower, and operational reach (more than 600 airframes par-
ticipated in a two-month period).9 Realizing the strategic significance of
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the operation, the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) rapidly created an over-
match condition by committing more than 60,000 troops to defend their
bases and line of communication and attempted to decisively defeat the
US-supported ARVN operation.10
Airmobile missions involved inserting ARVN forces, creating fire bas-
es, and attacking the well-established and heavily defended logistics net-
works in Laos. American forces—not authorized to fight on the ground in
Laos—provided air cavalry reconnaissance, tactical air support, air assaults
(to include gunships for landing zone and route security), cross-border field
artillery support, and re-supply. As ARVN forces established fire bases and
began expanding their perimeters, contact was nearly immediate.11
Planners and aircrews quickly faced multiple dilemmas. Prior to 8
February 1971, local flight regulations in Vietnam prohibited flight crews
from flying below 1,500 feet above ground level (AGL). This “dead man’s
zone” was in the range of high-density small arms fire. Within forty-eight
hours of initiation of the operation, cavalry reconnaissance aircrews were
forced into either nap-of-the-earth (NOE) flight (as close to the surface
of the earth as terrain and trees will allow) or above 4,000 feet AGL.12
It was a high-density, hostile air defense environment where pilots faced
the tradeoffs of speed and masking terrain with that of altitude and rela-
tive safety. This increase in threat capability required aircrews to maintain
higher mobility during flight (airspeed and maneuver) and for attack air-
craft to begin operating in teams of three to four aircraft to suppress and/or
destroy triangular air defense ambushes in and around landing zones (LZs)
and pick-up zones (PZs).
The growing threat in Laos required a change in mission planning.
During this period of the conflict, aircrews in Vietnam were accustomed to
taking off, flying “at altitude” and experiencing sporadic small arms fire in
the LZ. Now they required detailed planning, prepared fire plans, multiple
LZs/PZs, downed crew recovery procedures, varying routes, and regular
updates on enemy disposition prior to mission execution.13
With a saturation of air sorties, the division headquarters added plan-
ners to assist with ongoing and future missions. Command and control (the
predecessor to mission command) tightened as the I Corps commander gave
planning guidance and priorities for support twice a day, while the 101st
assistant division commander (Operations) incorporated a decision-making
framework for allocating aviation resources into his schedule three times a
day.14 Casualties and incidents of isolated personnel were high and ranged
from whole ARVN companies to downed American pilots and crews.

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 In an example of informed disobedience, the Air Cavalry Task Force
commander, Lt. Col. Bob Molinelli, disregarded the policy of American
troops not authorized on the ground in Laos and put together a hasty team
to recover one of his isolated crews. Later during the operation, President
Richard Nixon granted permission to recover crews and aircraft, although
an ARVN unit was required to act as ground security.15 Of the 659 air-
frames involved in Operation Lam Son 719, ninety were destroyed and
another 453 received battle damage.16 The operation entered Army annals
as a critical case of how aviation supported the division fight and, more
specifically, helped establish tactics for modern air assault operations that
remain in current aviation doctrine.
Like other branches, Army Aviation has paid dearly in combat insights
that have generated institutional knowledge through an established system
of acknowledging, assessing, and disseminating lessons learned. These les-
sons reinforce the belief systems that, once scrutinized, become doctrine.
Unfortunately, over time those lessons and beliefs lose clarity and no longer
provide precise explanations of why a particular plan worked or accurately
depict the rigor used to create that successful plan. Combat experience in
the force does not always age well or effectively. Moreover during periods
of peace, training experience often becomes more critical than combat to
the generation of lessons. Training experience, while critical, struggles to
emulate the human dimension of combat. Maneuver training areas do their
best to replicate the environments that develop planning and decision-mak-
ing experience; yet when combat comes, the Army continues to relearn
hard-won insights from World War II, Korea, and the post-Cold War era.
A Look to the Past—Operation Desert Storm and Operation
Iraqi Freedom
The Soviet Cold War threat inspired innovations across every element
in the DOTMLPF-P process. These innovations can still be seen today in
Army units built around the “Big 5”: UH-60 Blackhawk, AH-64 Apache,
M1 Abrams Tank, Patriot Missile System, and M2/3 Bradley Fighting Ve-
hicle.17 The capabilities of the “Big 5” combined with both AirLand Battle
concepts in Army Operations Field Manual (FM) 100-5, Operations (the
1976 predecessor to FM 3-0), and combined arms training at the maneuver
training areas to create a force that proved superior to the Iraqi Army in
Operation Desert Storm.
On 17 January 1991, that operation began with a highly successful
uncontested aviation deep attack on a fixed Iraqi air defense radar facility
by the 1st Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment.18 Disrupting the integrated

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Iraqi air defenses, this mission was just the first example of Army Aviation
capabilities shaping the deep area in Desert Storm. Just weeks later on
the night of 27 February 1991, a single battalion of 11th Aviation Brigade
Apaches demonstrated its combat readiness. Developed by the VII Corps
deep battle cell as an event-triggered contingency plan (CONPLAN), the
deep attack against the 10th Iraqi Armored Division at Objective Minden
resulted in the destruction of fifty-three tanks and thirty-five armored per-
sonnel carriers.19 When the US 3rd Armored Division arrived hours later,
elements of the 10th Iraqi Armored Division were displaced, demoralized,
and in disarray. From plan initiation to arrival of the ground force, the
strike on Objective Minden validated deep attack doctrine and the role of
attack aviation in support of the corps commander.
Conversely on 23 March 2003, in the opening phase of Operation Iraqi
Freedom (OIF), a deep attack by 11th Attack Helicopter Regiment’s (AHR)
became part of the campaign’s “darkest day.” Executing a movement to
contact in the corps deep area to destroy armor and artillery belonging to
the Iraqi Medina Division, the 11th AHR crews moved along routes that
they believed flew over rural terrain and were vulnerable mainly to Iraqi
surface-to-air missiles. What they encountered instead was urban sprawl,
overwhelming “iron site” air defense artillery, and small arms fire. Thir-
ty-one of thirty-two aircraft received heavy damage during the attack.20
Battle damage compelled one crew to execute a forced landing. Having
become isolated on the battlefield, they were eventually taken prisoner by
Iraqi forces. On top of the sustained battle damage, the 11th AHR was not
successful in meeting the mission’s objectives. The aircrews were highly
trained and executed the attack valiantly but failed because their efforts
were blunted by unexpected Iraqi resistance.
In keeping with Army Aviation practice, the initial lessons learned (of
which there were many) were rapidly disseminated within the 101st Avia-
tion Brigade in a tactical assembly area (TAA) just miles away from 11th
AHR’s TAA. The 101st quickly adapted aircrew tactics and operational
plans, executing operations in direct support of the ground force with a
high degree of success.21 While the mission was a stimulus to learning and
improvement, it also became a source of consternation for select leaders
who questioned the validity of the rotary wing deep attack mission. Oper-
ations during the next fifteen years focused on wide area security (WAS)
and counterinsurgency (COIN) in Iraq and Afghanistan. This left little
time to examine the doctrinal validity of the deep attack mission. While
not removed from doctrine, the deep attack mission was minimized in
doctrinal publications and disregarded in training—its intricate planning
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characteristics no longer taught with rigor. The Army’s return to LSCO
requires a revival of such atrophied capabilities and skill in commanders
and staff officers from battalion through corps.
The LSCO-Counterinsurgency Divide
The skills required for LSCO will be revived through study, discourse,
exercises, and simulations. The preceding historical vignettes are select
cases from a large set of operations that contributed to the aviation com-
munity’s “belief system” and institutional knowledge over the past six
decades. All of these operations contributed to a collective legacy, and
each was a significant emotional event in the lives of hundreds of leaders,
aircrews, and—in tragic cases—their families. Regardless of success or
failure, each of these operations was the result of intelligent and trained
planners advising competent commanders.
In LSCO, hazards are significant and risks are difficult to mitigate. As
framed in FM 3-0’s Joint Phasing model, large-scale combat operations
occur during Phase II (Seize the Initiative) and Phase III (Dominate) parts
of a campaign. As the action verbs “dominate” and “seize” imply, there is
nothing passive about the operations executed within each of these phases.
Casualties and equipment losses are expected. Pressure on planners to
minimize risk without limiting audacity is significant compared to that
of Phase I (Deter) or Phase IV (Stability Operations). Division planners
must begin with the knowledge that Army Aviation core competencies
have continuously evolved since 1941.22 These competencies currently
contribute to all of the war fighting functions (WfF): Mission Command,
Movement and Maneuver, Fires, Intelligence, Protection, and Sustain-
ment. Integration and synchronization of aviation core competencies and
capabilities across the WfFs is essential to division planning and mission
execution in LSCO. Those competencies are:
• Provide accurate and timely information collection.
• Provide reaction time and maneuver space.
• Destroy, defeat, disrupt, divert, or delay enemy forces.
• Air assault Ground Maneuver Forces.
• Air movement of personnel, equipment, and supplies.
• Evacuate wounded or recover isolated personnel.
• Enable Mission Command over extended ranges and complex ter-
rain.23

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 Army Aviation capabilities—when precisely applied in LSCO—lower
the human cost of fighting by reducing the amount of time spent moving
to or from an objective, increasing the speed with which a commander can
react, or evacuating critical injured. This statement is only true if division
planners, enabled by brigade and battalion planners, understand how to
assist the commander in the orchestration of combat capabilities within
the division. During years of stability and COIN operations, aviation ca-
pabilities were distributed across the division area of operations (AO) in
small teams with combined arms maneuver controlled at the brigade com-
bat team (BCT) level. Multiple teams of two aircraft (regardless of type)
transited the entire AO at all hours of the day. Airspace management and
task execution followed established aerial procedure guides and mature air
mission request processes. Procedure and process dictated mission execu-
tion. Commander guidance was only adjusted when a new mission or new
threat presented itself. Execution was relatively simple.
In LSCO, the synchronization of WfFs and prioritization of combat
aviation brigade (CAB) capabilities cannot be attained at brigade echelon.
Division planners bear the responsibility to plan, synchronize, and coordi-
nate capabilities across the WfFs within the battlefield framework. Divi-
sion planners must answer the question: How does the division integrate
the mobility, speed, range, flexibility, lethality, precision, and reconnais-
sance capabilities of the CAB with all of the WfFs to maintain tempo, con-
solidate gains, and attain a position of relative advantage? Management
and apportionment of aviation resources—where, when, and how to apply
combat power (multipliers)—all matter. This is also the case for airspace
management. As noted above, during stability operations, established ae-
rial procedure guides and mature air mission request processes dictated
mission execution. Commanders’ guidance was only adjusted when a new
mission or new threat presented itself. Execution was relatively simple.
In contrast during LSCO, agile applied firepower wins battles. Simple
tasks become complex as commanders energize latent combat power at a
decisive point and time while simultaneously shaping the deep battlefield
for the next engagement. The frontline trace of friendly forces constantly
fluctuates; multiple large formations make accidents and fratricide, on the
ground and in the air, a very real hazard. Like a compressed spring, the
energy harnessed in the buildup to Phase II escalates risk. This risk man-

128
ifests itself in the opening days of combat. Operation Iraqi Freedom and
Operation Lam Son 719 provide several examples of this, including:
• Accidental risk—On 5 February 1971, three days prior to the D-Day
for Operation Lam Son 719, an AH-1G Cobra crew on a security mission
died flying into the side of a cliff during inclement weather.24
• Tactical risk (fratricide)—On 6 February 1971, two days prior to
the D-Day for Lam Son 719, a Navy pilot who lacked current situational
awareness dropped several cluster bombs on an ARVN armor unit assem-
bling on the border, killing six and wounding fifty-one.25
• Accidental risk—On 25 February 2003 in northern Kuwait, a US
Blackhawk helicopter flying at low altitude crashed due to inadvertent
instrument meteorological conditions (IIMC) when a sudden sand storm
covered the training area. Conducting an environmental training flight, all
four crew members perished.26
• Tactical risk (fratricide)—On 22 March 2003, a British Tornado re-
turning from a bombing mission in Iraq was shot down in northern Kuwait
by a US Patriot system. The Tornado was misidentified as an incoming
missile. Both pilot and navigator were KIA.27
Sadly, like the historical consistencies of soldiers embracing surges of
adrenaline and fear on foreign soil, these types of incidents can be found
in every LSCO to include the preparations for D-Day in World War II. At
the division level, planners attempt to bring order to chaos and simplify
complexity through the military decision-making process (MDMP) and
course of action (COA) development. Planners synchronize capabilities
in time and space, establishing measures to control operational tempo
(OPTEMPO) throughout the AO. Through detailed war-gaming, planners
transform the commander’s vision into executable tasks in the close (or
main battle area in the defense), deep, consolidation, and support areas.
Division commanders must then balance subordinate initiative in execu-
tion with the necessity of synchronizing operations and remaining flexible
enough to respond to emerging events. This balance begins in planning
and is orchestrated in execution.
As the Phase II spring “uncoils,” tempo and intensity matter. Messy,
chaotic, and adrenaline-driven, the close fight brings friendly soldiers and
weapon systems into collision with those of the enemy. Casualties result.

129
Planners know this and apply rigor in their efforts. The deeper the fight,
the clearer the war. When the deep fight is shaping future battles, there is a
predisposition among contemporary planners to see deep missions as less
complex and less urgent than the casualty-producing close fight. History
shows otherwise.
The deep fight requires scrutiny in planning and a high fidelity of
command and control during execution. Like the event-triggered CON-
PLANS developed by the VII Corps deep operations cell in Operation
Desert Storm, missions into the deep area are designed specifically to seize
the initiative and get inside the decision cycle of enemy commanders. If
an enemy commander’s plan calls for the activation of a reserve or firing
of long-range indirect fires at a decisive point and time but those assets are
combat-ineffective prior to their use due to a deep attack, US commanders
have gained the initiative. This type of mission planning and execution is
highly controlled at the corps and division level; but they must be accu-
rately informed by subordinate brigades and battalions. The risk may be
high but the payoff for soldiers on the ground can be remarkable.
With the initiative gained, maneuver forces transition to Phase III:
Dominate. The constantly shifting consolidation area fight focuses on
consolidating gains through security tasks to ensure the close fight can
maintain tempo. For planners, the consolidation area is an economy of
force problem set. Planners must determine how little combat power can
be applied in the consolidation area in order to maintain tempo and mass
in the close fight. Given this problem set, Army aviation and field artillery
capabilities are spread across the close, deep, and consolidation areas. It is
likely that the demand for these capabilities will exceed supply. As such,
they must be employed with precision. When precisely applied, combat
multipliers shape the future (deep) battle while simultaneously providing
decisive firepower to the close area and continuous support to consolida-
tion area operations.
During stability operations, units maneuver principally on a small
scale with a variety of assets supporting in the battlespace. To efficient-
ly communicate these assets to a BCT during stability operations, ma-
neuver forces coined the term “enablers.” This terminology, still in use
today, is characteristically detrimental to Army warfighting in LSCO.
While efficient, merging combat assets into a single term inhibits accurate
communication. Subtle changes in vocabulary alter the way we under-
stand and think about capabilities. To enable is to provide the means to
do something, an implication of subordinate support that may or may not

130
be required to accomplish the mission. In the LSCO fight, “enabling” ter-
minology must be struck from the lexicon. The field artillery community
takes this dilemma a step further and refers to the “tactical isolation” of
their capabilities due to a lack of recent LSCO experience at division and
higher.28 Army aviation and field artillery forces prior to 2003 were “com-
bat multipliers,” known for the devastating combined impact of fire and
maneuver they brought to the fight. Army aviation and artillery operations
in the close fight help the commander impose his will on the enemy; in the
deep fight, they inflict chaos on the enemy course of action (COA) and—
combined with maneuver—create a position of relative advantage for the
commander to exploit. These assets are the only organic capability the
division commander has to shape the deep (ground) fight. In cases where
adversary fires outrange our own, aviation capabilities provide the opera-
tional reach required to neutralize or destroy the threat. These two combat
multipliers also create a shared dilemma for planners: how to maximize
capability across the division AO.
Large-scale combat operations extend the temporal and physical di-
mensions that planners must account for exponentially when compared to
those of the WAS and COIN environments. In this difficult environment,
Army Aviation provides the combat power and operational reach across
the breadth and depth of the division area (deep, close, consolidation, and
support). Use of attack, reconnaissance, and lift capability in the deep fight
takes assets from the close fight. Missions in the close area may task a
company or battalion for a set time period in direct support of a BCT.
Missions in the consolidation and support areas may task a company or
battalion for continuous security in direct or general support of the maneu-
ver enhancement brigade (MEB) or BCT in charge of the consolidation
area. Missions in the deep area (out of contact with friendly troops) may
task-organize several companies or more with a dedicated headquarters.
The operational visualization realized in steps three and four of MDMP
(course of action development and course of action analysis) assists corps
and division aviation planners as they assess risk and apportion capabili-
ties to meet the division commander’s intent.
These resource tradeoffs between attacks against enemy forces out of
friendly contact and attacks against enemy forces in close friendly contact
require detailed planning encompassing prioritization of fires, electron-
ic weapon support, sustainment, and intelligence collection to guarantee
massing of effects in time and space in support of the commander’s intent.
These prioritization adjustments are not systematic. They must be closely

131
synchronized in time and space, and must be flexible enough to adjust
when the commander or situation requires. Such capability allocation and
prioritization challenges are incumbent across the entire battlespace—
deep, close, consolidation, and support areas.
Planners weigh main and supporting ground maneuver efforts, while
employing aviation and fires capabilities to offset enemy force ratios,
maintain tempo, and secure flanks. Planners must understand that pre-
scribed command and support relationships are a critical component of
the art and science of LSCO. Each operational phase and specific mission
within each phase requires adjustments to command and support relation-
ships. General support is inherently flexible for the division commander
but does not guarantee the capability is available to subordinate command-
er requirements. Direct support ensures the capability can be applied in
the temporal and physical dimension subordinate commanders require, but
is also restrictive if other requirements emerge. Multiple factors such as
the commander’s intent, required flexibility, timeframe, distances to com-
mand and control nodes, and logistic support to aviation assets must be
considered in the development of command and support relationships.29
Unlike stability operations in which aviation capabilities are often
continuously available to BCTs, during LSCO divisions must retain avi-
ation, fire support, and flexible sustainment capabilities for planned or
emergent missions. Maintaining capabilities at the division requires the
warfighting staff to develop clear criteria for their employment. Criteria
must include who has the decision authority to re-apportion or redirect
planned capabilities between the consolidation, close, and deep fights.30
These decisions must be informed by future plans and current operations,
and include a battle rhythm and battle drill system for the adjustment of
established priorities. This system must be agile enough to keep up with
the tempo of the battlefield and firm enough to encourage tactical patience.
Planners orchestrate assets and capabilities in time and space to seize
an objective or shape an enemy course of action. As timelines progress,
the organization as a whole must understand how the parts work together
and what effect the loss or delay of one capability will have on the en-
tirety of the operation. For example in LSCO, the loss or de-synching of
an electronic warfare (EW) asset during mission execution could prove
as catastrophic as the de-synching of a suppression of enemy air defense
(SEAD) mission or preparatory fires. Newer non-contact warfare systems
change the coefficient of forces. Individual staff officers may not have the
knowledge base to understand the effects of an applied or lost capability.

132
As technology advances, creating and maintaining knowledge of asset ca-
pabilities at the staff officer level is difficult.
An example of one such asset is the Gray Eagle unmanned aerial plat-
form. This versatile airframe provides three distinct capabilities: recon-
naissance, precision strike, and manned-unmanned teaming with attack
aircraft. To the commander in charge of the consolidation area, be it the
Maneuver Enhancement Brigade (MEB) or an assigned BCT, reconnais-
sance is critical. For main or supporting effort commanders in the close or
deep fight, precision strike or manned-unmanned teaming (MUMT) capa-
bilities become requirements. A well-orchestrated Gray Eagle plan might
incorporate reconnaissance in the consolidation area prior to and at the
end of precision strike or MUMT mission sets. Gray Eagle timing and po-
sitioning is synchronized with other aerial assets and ground commander
requirements. If you include the multiple field artillery assets operating
in the division AO, this orchestration requires a flexible yet controlled
airspace plan.
In LSCO, airspace management is dynamic, fluid in every sense of
the word. During execution, the enemy does not care where a commander
places control measures. An agile airspace plan must flow with the prog-
ress of the battle. It must be synchronized with the frontline trace and
tactical movements like the frequent displacement of field artillery battal-
ions as they avoid enemy counter-fire. Division airspace and fire support
planners attempt to provide flexibility to allow minimum coordination and
maximum lethality of all joint assets. The corps and division develop air-
space control measures and coordinate with the Air Force’s air operations
center (AOC) through the Army’s battlefield coordination detachment
(BCD). Once the plan goes into execution, the division joint air-ground
integration center (JAGIC) controls the effects within the division’s AO.
For the division commander to exploit positions of relative advantage,
the JAGIC must have current situational awareness and enable rapid, dy-
namic application of joint fires. This can only occur if the staff officers
constituting the JAGIC have a depth of knowledge on friendly and enemy
capabilities. With rapid advances in technology, depth of knowledge is
difficult to attain. It requires study, training, and experience in division
warfighter exercises simulating more forces and higher echelons than
combined maneuver training centers are capable of. Simulations and cog-
nitive systems continue to make significant advances in these areas, many
of which have yet to be realized in LSCO.

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LSCO Revival, an Opportunity for Innovation
The doctrinal transition to LSCO is not a step back in time or a return
to the old way of doing things. It is a step toward the future. It moti-
vates the force to understand developments of the past and expose gaps
in current knowledge and experience. These gaps are further expanded by
continuous technological advancements in weapon systems and associated
tactics. This is not a new problem set; Piper Cubs did not begin World War
II with radios in them and Hueys did not have weapons mounted on them
at the onset of Vietnam. But pilots of both eras managed to shoot, move,
communicate, and innovate. In an era where the “Big 5” weapon systems
are connected to hundreds of smaller systems, knowledge sharing between
echeloned commanders and planners is critical. When a weapon system
capability like Gray Eagle is not maximized operationally, planners and
commanders must fill the knowledge gap through all echelons. As aviation
technology and tactics continue to evolve, the CAB commander and his
staff play a pivotal role in communicating this knowledge gap to division
and corps staffs. Something as simple as the compatibility of Gray Eagle
ground control stations across the AO may provide significant unrealized
advantages (or deficiencies) to the force. As in the past, the innovative use
of emerging capabilities will provide the advantage that tips the scale in
favor of the United States and its partners.
The re-emergence of great power competition increases uncertainty.
In the face of uncertainty, readiness is key. The United States and its part-
ners are realigning current military capabilities with doctrine to be ready
to deter or engage near-peer competitors. A return to studying and training
LSCO as prescribed in FM 3-0 is a hardening of the Army’s foundation.
The combat multiplying capability of Army Aviation is a load-bearing pil-
lar of that foundation and must be reinforced, with rigor. Planners must
possess a depth of knowledge in aviation core competencies and platform
capabilities. This knowledge, informed by history, will enable division
planners to synchronize capabilities in time and space in support of the
mission and commander’s intent. Large-scale combat operations do not
usually end quickly. The agility to apply combat power at a decisive point
and time on a recurring basis allows the United States and its partners to
defeat the enemy at the time and place of its choosing.

134
 Notes
1. Aaron P. Jackson, “The Nature of Military Doctrine: A Decade of Study
in 1500 Words,” The Strategy Bridge (15 November 2017), https://thestrategy-
bridge.org/the-bridge/2017/11/15/the-nature-of-military-doctrine-a-decade-of-
study-in-1500-words.
2. Raymond C. Kerns, Above the Thunder: Reminiscences of a Field Artil-
lery Pilot in World War II (Ashland, OH: Kent State University Press, 2008), 10.
3. Richard Tierney and Fred Montgomery, The Army Aviation Story (North-
port, AL: Colonial Press, 1963), 47.
4. Kerns, Above the Thunder, 108.
5. For a detailed look at the missions and success of liaison pilots in the
Pacific Theater, see Kerns, Above the Thunder.
6. Tierney and Montgomery, The Army Aviation Story, 249.
7. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
1-02, Terms and Military Symbols (Washington, DC: 2016), 1-100; Jim E. Ful-
brook, “Lam Son 719,” US Army Aviation Digest 32, no. 6 (June 1986): 5.
8. Fulbrook, 4.
9. James H. Willbanks, A Raid Too Far: Operation Lam Son 719 and
Vietnamization in Laos (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press,
2014), 215.
10. Willbanks, 168.
11. Memorandum by Brig. Gen. Sidney Berry, Airmobile Operations Study
Group, “Airmobile Operations in Support of Operation Lamson 719 8 Febru-
ary–6 April 1971,” Jim Wilbanks Archive, 101st Air Assault History, 10.
12. Fulbrook, “Lam Son 719,” 14.
13. Airmobile Operations Study Group, “Airmobile Operations in Support
of Operation Lamson 719,” 28.
14. Airmobile Operations Study Group, 26.
15. Willbanks, A Raid Too Far, 78.
16. Willbanks, 215.
17. Robert H. Scales, Certain Victory: The U.S. Army in the Gulf War (Fort
Leavenworth, KS: US Army Command and General Staff College Press, 1993),
19–20.
18. Scales, 158–60.
19. Scales, 287–91.
20. Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor, Cobra II: The Inside Story of the
Invasion and Occupation of Iraq (London: Atlantic, 2007), 279.
21. Gordon and Trainor, 280.
22. Tierney and Montgomery, The Army Aviation Story, 11–14.
23. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-04, Army Aviation
(Washington, DC: 2015), 1-1–1-5.
24. Willbanks, A Raid Too Far, 75.
25. Willbanks, 75.

135
 26. “Four U.S. Soldiers Killed in Kuwait Copter Accident,” CNN News
(25 February 2003), http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/meast/02/24/kuwait.
blackhawk/index.html.
27. “US Missile Killed RAF Pilots in ‘Tragic Chain of Events’,” Telegraph
News (15 May 2004), https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1461868/US-
missile-killed-RAF-pilots-in-tragic-chain-of-events.html.
28. Jason Carter and Robert Auletta, “Keeping the King on His Throne: The
Purpose of Multinational Fires in Unified Land Operations,” Fires Bulletin (Sep-
tember–October 2016): 29, http://sill-www.army.mil/firesbulletin/archives/2016/
sep-oct/Keeping%20the%20king%20on%20his%20throne,%20Part%20I.pdf.
29. The intricacies of command and support relationships are outside the
scope of this chapter except to acknowledge they are a critical component of the
combat power allocation and therefore clearly worthy of additional study. For
more information on command and support relationships, see FM 3-04, Army
Aviation, 2-15–2-17.
30. Brig. Gen. (Retired) William “Bill” Wolf, email and division warfighter
expertise support to author, 14 March 2018.

136
 Chapter 10
The Return of Large-Scale Combat Operations:
River Crossing Operations
Jonathan M. Williams

Since the earliest times of conflict, rivers have posed a challenge to the
movement of large armies. History is rich with examples of failed attempts
to successfully cross large bodies of water in the face of hostile forces,
while records of successful crossings are far less common. In modern
times, military leaders have rightfully recognized the intrinsic importance
of rivers as key terrain features and have, with mixed results, maneuvered
their forces around, over, and across water obstacles toward subsequent
objectives. With the publication of the 2017 version of Field Manual (FM)
3-0, Operations, the US Army deliberately returned an operational focus
to large-scale combat operations after more than a decade of conflict in
which stability and counterinsurgency were the primary concerns.1 With
this renewed emphasis on major combat operations comes the return to
several fundamental tasks inherent in division and corps operations. One
of the most difficult, and perhaps the most challenging in terms of syn-
chronization of forces, is the combined arms river crossing operation. Re-
cent changes to the US Army’s force structure coupled with the atrophy
of critical soldier skills have made this tactical requirement even more
daunting. Ultimately, to achieve success in future operations and ensure
combat readiness against a potential near-peer adversary, the US Army
must revisit the enduring mission requirement to conduct river crossings
and must train and prepare its leaders to execute this difficult task.
Historical Vignette: The Rapido River Crossing
The Battle of Rapido River, part of the Italian Campaign of World
War II, occurred in January 1944 along the Gari River (although techni-
cally misnamed, the event is known as the Rapido River Crossing). The
US Fifth Army, in an effort to penetrate the German Gustav Line, tried
to cross the river with two regiments of the US 36th Infantry Division as
part of a larger offensive operation.2 To help facilitate the crossing, the
Americans intended to begin the crossing operation in hours of darkness
and planned an extensive artillery barrage to soften the enemy’s defenses.
At the designated time, the Americans began to cross the river and start-
ed firing preparatory artillery suppression fires into the German defensive
positions. However, the artillery was ineffective and the Germans suffered

137
only incidental damage. Consequently, when the US 141st and 143rd In-
fantry regiments began to cross the river, they met with stiff resistance.

Figure 10.1. Army units conduct river crossing training. Courtesy of US Army.

After initially getting two companies across, the 143rd Regiment came
under increasing pressure from a German division in strong defensive po-
sitions. While two of the 143rd’s companies had successfully crossed the
river, the enemy’s determined defense resulted in too many American loss-
es, forcing the US units to retreat back across the river.3 The companies
of the other regiment—the 141st—found themselves in a worse position.
After landing in a minefield where they suffered heavy casualties, that
regiment also had to withdraw back across the river.4
The next day, both regiments attacked again but once more their initial
assault faltered as enemy fires prevented the construction of bridges. As a
result, the armored units designated as reinforcements could not cross the
river and the infantry units became isolated and endured significant losses.
Ultimately, the division commander directed both regiments to retreat, thus
giving up the shallow bridgehead on the German side of the river. The rem-
nants of the 143rd crossed over without major incident. However, the divi-
sion could not provide enough transport to bring the 141st back across the
Gari.5 An immediate counterattack by German forces against the trapped
Americans led to more casualties and hundreds captured. With little pros-
pect for success, the division commander decided not to use the 142nd
Infantry, the division’s sole remaining regiment, to renew the attack.6

138
 Ultimately, the river crossing was both an operational failure and a disas-
ter in human terms. In two days of combat, the division suffered 2,000 casu-
alties, 1,300 of which were fatalities.7 The operation’s objective—forcing the
German forces to displace and reposition their units—was left unattained. As
a result, the campaign in Italy dragged on for several more months.

Figure 10.2. Litter bearers bring back wounded during an attempt to span the Rapido
River near Cassino, Italy, on 23 January 1944. Courtesy of US Army.

Background
Since the start of the twenty-first century, the US Army’s primary fo-
cus has been on counterinsurgency operations in Iraq and Afghanistan.
As a result, some collective tasks which previously were fundamental to
units have atrophied due to the pressing urgency of current operations.
Large-scale river crossing operations is clearly one of these tasks. There
are several other possible reasons why river crossing has been neglected
in unit training.
First, training on river crossing as a combined arms operation requires
significant coordination, integration, and synchronization of multiple units
to effectively achieve unit proficiency. With the many diverse missions of
units within and external to the brigade combat teams (BCTs), it has be-
come increasingly difficult to have all the necessary units available and on
the same training cycle to participate in training.

139
 Additionally with the advent of modularity, units that were previous-
ly part of the organic division force structure have migrated to echelons
above division and/or to the reserve components. This makes it far more
challenging to train on tasks requiring those particular types of units. Ex-
amples of these units include engineer bridge companies but also other es-
sential forces such as chemical units (for potential hasty decontamination)
and military police elements (for traffic control).
Third, the reduction in the active duty force structure and engineer
bridge companies in particular has resulted in fewer and fewer resources
available to conduct river crossing training to standard. Whereas in the
past there were float bridge assets at the BCT and division echelons, today
these units reside at echelons above brigade, external to the division, or in
the reserve components.
Finally, the doctrinal and philosophical shift in Army thinking from
division-centric to BCT-centric formations has largely masked the endur-
ing requirements of tasks which are large-scale and require planning, orga-
nizing, coordinating, synchronizing, and executing beyond the capabilities
of the BCTs. The combination of these factors has greatly exacerbated the
current deficiency in units capable of conducting river crossing operations
and left a gaping hole in US Army functional capability.
Neglecting to remain proficient on this critical task for so many years
has resulted in a significant lack of institutional knowledge throughout
the Army on river crossing operations. Not only has the task taken a back
seat at the branch schools in favor of more pressing training needs (i.e.
counter-improvised explosive device training), leaders at all levels have
been exposed to this task less and less. Thus, there are few leaders in units
now who have ever been trained on the task, much less conducted a real
river crossing operation in their service with the Army.
In short, the changing operational environment has evolved rapidly
and profoundly and we must now acknowledge that this change requires
a major adjustment to our training strategy. We face threats which are not
only near-peer in capability but also have the forces and resources to over-
whelm brigade combat teams. Military preparedness demands we have the
ability to fight and win in the large-scale combat operations arena. Thus,
combat readiness for combined arms operations, including river crossing
operations, must again take center stage. Prudence dictates that we once
again equip, plan, and train on river crossing as an essential task for Army
ground combat units.

140
Figure 10.3. Bridge erection boats (BEBs) employed to stabilize an improved ribbon
bridge (IRB) during training exercises. Courtesy of US Army.

Where We Are Now

Within the current brigade combat teams, we possess only minimal
gap-crossing capability. Specifically, the Armored BCT’s brigade engineer
battalion (BEB) has an organic gap-crossing capability of 18.3 meters with
the armored vehicle launch bridge (AVLB) or twenty-four meters if it has
fielded the newer heavy assault bridge. Stryker BCT engineer battalions
have the rapid emplacement bridge (REB) with a gap-crossing capability
of thirteen meters at military load class (MLC) 40. Infantry BCTs have no
vehicular gap-crossing capability and are only equipped with rubber as-
sault boats (RB15s). Currently, there exists no float bridging capability at
the division or BCT level. The four multi-role bridge companies (MRBCs)
that are part of the active-duty force structure all reside in the echelons
above brigade (EAB) engineer force pool echelons above division.
Doctrinal Foundations
Fortunately, the Army’s river crossing doctrine is current and valid.
This is the case because the concepts of how to conduct river crossing
operations have largely remained constant for many years.

141
 Clearly, the Army recognized the urgent need to republish river cross-
ing doctrine and re-educate the forces on the basic fundamentals of this
complex collective task. With the 2016 publication of Army Training Pub-
lication (ATP) 3-90.4, Combined Arms Mobility Operations, the Army
combined two critical mobility tasks—combined arms breaching and river
crossing—into a single manual. This codified the previous river crossing
doctrine into the larger mobility issue. As the manual notes:
Gap crossing in support of maneuver is similar to a breach in that
the force is vulnerable while moving through a lane or across a
gap. Maneuver units are forced to break movement formations,
concentrate within lanes or at crossing points, and reform on the
far side before continuing to maneuver. While much of the termi-
nology and planning associated with gap crossing is the same as
that used in a breach, gap crossing and breach differ in scope. The
amount and type of assets involved also differ.8
Hence, for engineers as well as the maneuver forces they support, a river
crossing shares many of the same training techniques as breaching opera-
tions and, in many cases, uses the same planning approaches for success.
Yet, the scale and duration of river crossing operations differ significantly
from breaching operations as do the command and control requirements.
Overview of River Crossing Operations
US Army doctrine defines river crossings as deliberate, hasty, or co-
vert wet gap crossings. Each gap crossing type has a general list of condi-
tions that help define its category and describe the circumstances in which
the particular type of crossing should be undertaken. While the planning
requirements for each type of crossing are similar, the required degree of
detail and necessary conditions for a high degree of success vary based
on the type and the unique features associated with a crossing mission. As
ATP 3-90.4 notes, “In all cases, the ability to conduct any type of cross-
ing begins by providing a crossing force with the necessary gap-cross-
ing means and control elements and identifying those requirements early
during planning.”9
Typically, a hasty crossing is done with organic assets and without
extensive prior planning, implying that the enemy situation is well known
and the threat is unable to significantly influence the crossing operation. A
covert crossing is one in which the crossing force attempts to remain unde-
tected and thus is normally conducted in smaller numbers across more nar-
row water obstacles. The deliberate crossing is the most rigorous in terms
of planning as well as in resourcing requirements. Normally an operation
142
involving extensive prior preparation and synchronization, it usually re-
quires assets that are attached to divisions or corps from external sources.
ATP 3-90.4 further notes that successful gap-crossings are character-
ized by applying the critical gap-crossing fundamentals of surprise, exten-
sive preparation, flexible planning, traffic management, organization, and
speed.10 The manual subsequently explains each of these salient charac-
teristics and provides extensive descriptions on the importance of each of
these fundamentals. In other words, the doctrine goes to great lengths to
make clear that the conditions must be properly set for the river crossing
operation to have any chance at success.
Near Side Far Side

PL Brass (RL) PL Copper PL Gold (RL)

XX Assault B
EEP
ERP TCP
Holding
TCP Area TCP 1 TCP 9
TCP 3 Staging 5 CFA 7 A�ack
Holding Area Posi�on
1 Area Site 1
ERP CFA
1 Site 2
Assembly
Area
Assault C
Holding ERP EEP
Area TCP Holding
TCP Area TCP 3
4 Staging TCP
2 Area 6 TCP
CFA 8 10 A�ack
ERP Posi�on
4 CFA Site 3

X Site 4
PL Brass (RL) PL Gold (RL)
Legend
CFA Call Forward Aea PL Copper
EEP Engineer Equipment Park
Crossing Area
ERP Engineer Regulating Point 4‒5 miles
PL Phase Line
RL Release Line
TCP Traffic Control Point

Figure 10.4. Graphic Control Measures. From Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-90.4,
Combined Arms Mobility Operations (Washington, DC: 2016).

River Crossing Control Mechanisms

Integral to the successful command and control of the operation is a
well-coordinated plan that includes specific graphic control measures for
the entire force. Doctrine lays out extensive graphic control measures re-
quired to effectively orchestrate the complex and detailed integration that
must take place in execution. Additionally, the forces are organized (see
discussion earlier on crossing fundamentals) to ensure that all are aware
of their particular role in the operation and knowledgable on their unique
contribution to the successful crossing. Figure 10.4 illustrates the scope of
the graphic control measures necessary for these operations.

143
Figure 10.5. Tanks cross a river on a float bridge during brigade training exercises.
Courtesy of US Army.

In river crossing operations, the challenge is to prevent anything from

interdicting or interrupting the rapid maneuver of friendly forces. Hence,
the graphic control measures detailed in the plan must be complete and
detailed enough to ensure all elements of the force understand the overall
operation as well as the specific function of each contributing member.
Precise timing is crucial; graphic control measures help facilitate the unin-
terrupted maneuver of combat forces across the water obstacle.
Specific Requirements by Warfighting Function
Success in such a difficult and complex operation as a contested river
crossing depends greatly on the ability of the planners and executers to
effectively integrate and synchronize diverse units and functions broadly
and deeply. Clearly each of the respective doctrinal warfighting functions
has a crucial role to play in its unique contribution to the mission as well
as in its complementary role to the other warfighting functions. Here are
some of the most obvious challenges for each of the warfighting functions:
Intelligence. For the intelligence warfighting function during river
crossing operations, the primary focus is on the terrain—the river itself—

144
and the enemy forces in position to contest the gap crossing. In order for
the crossing to be successful, the intelligence cell must provide accurate
and timely information to the commander relative to the characteristics
of the terrain around the potential crossing site(s) as well as the technical
features of the river itself. Information such as water depth, velocity, bank
slopes, and soil composition is crucial to the force executing the crossing,
and engineer technical reconnaissance has to be included in the priority
intelligence requirements. Additionally, the intelligence cell must deter-
mine the enemy forces defending against the river crossing and template
their positions and the obstacles they have constructed so that the friendly
forces can properly suppress and/or reduce these impediments prior to be-
ginning crossing operations.
Movement and maneuver. The most important consideration for the
movement and maneuver warfighting function is the rapid buildup of com-
bat power on the far side of the river. To this end, the actual crossing
plan (normally an appendix to the gap-crossing annex), specifically the se-
quence of units, has to be thoroughly understood throughout the command
and arranged in time and space so as to efficiently and effectively flow the
appropriate forces to far side objectives. Hence, the organization of the
crossing elements is crucial, and all other considerations revolve around
this vital centerpiece.
Fires. Eliminating enemy direct fires and observed indirect fires into
the crossing area is one of the fundamental precursor conditions that must
exist prior to launching river crossing operations. Thus, the fires warfight-
ing function plays a significant role in the planning and execution of wet
gap crossings. At the division level, planners must integrate and synchro-
nize friendly fires into the overall operation as well as ensure that the fires
effects meet the commander’s intent and are interwoven into the fabric
of the river crossing plan. Critical fire support tasks may likely include
suppression of enemy forces, artillery counter-fire operations, suppression
of enemy air defenses (SEAD), and obscuration. The actual tempo and
sequencing of friendly fires require exceptional planning and orchestration
to ensure uninterrupted support throughout the duration of the river cross-
ing operation. Additionally, the effective integration of close air support
and rotary wing aircraft will often mean the difference between success or
failure in a large-scale river crossing operation.
Protection. Concerns relative to the protection warfighting function
include the integration and synchronization of air defense assets and prop-
er positioning of the marshaling and holding areas for the friendly forces.

145
Military police play an important role in the river crossing operation by
providing traffic control and local security adjacent to the crossing sites.
Additionally, chemical units may be necessary during a river crossing op-
eration for purposes of hasty chemical detection and decontamination.
Sustainment. The sustainment warfighting function, like the other
warfighting functional cells, must provide detailed and thorough estimates
during the planning process then continue to coordinate, integrate, and
synchronize logistics requirements throughout the operation’s duration.
Specific concerns for the logistics planners include meeting the robust
Class V demands for the forces engaged in the operation in addition to or-
chestrating the skillful “ballet” of resupply vehicles dispersed throughout
the division’s broad area of operations. The demand for Class III in the
holding and marshalling areas is also great. Key to success in the sustain-
ment warfighting function is the anticipation of requirements and proac-
tive posturing of logistics early in the operation. River crossing operations
stress the lines of communication (LOCs) and can potentially unhinge
even the best maneuver plans if not fully meshed with the other functional
cells in the headquarters.
Mission Command. More than all other functions, effective command
and control of all the forces involved in the river crossing operation de-
termines the success or failure of the operation. Here again, we are chal-
lenged by the changes to our force structure. In past years, there was typ-
ically an engineer brigade assigned to each maneuver division. Thus, it
was a natural and habitual occurrence to designate the division’s engineer
brigade commander as the crossing area engineer. That commander, along
with the crossing area commander (usually the deputy commanding gen-
eral-Operations), would provide the senior leadership necessary to oversee
the operation, routinely operating out of the division tactical command
post (TAC) for the duration of the river crossing operation. Now, we no
longer have engineer brigades organic to the division structure and may
not have them assigned as part of the division’s forces during contingency
operations. If they are allocated to the division, the working relationships
may not be quite as “habitual” as in the past. If the division has a maneuver
enhancement brigade (MEB) attached as a part of its task organization, it
may be inclined to designate the MEB commander as the crossing area en-
gineer. However, since the MEBs only reside in the reserve components,
the working relationships may not be as well-rehearsed as desired. Re-
gardless, the functional requirements remain and demand a logical and
appropriate solution to the required mission command roles essential for
executing the operation.
146
 ATP 3.90.4 delineates the roles and responsibilities for the various
mission command nodes:
1. Division tactical command post controls the lead BCT/regimental
combat team’s (bridgehead force) attack across the gap; coordinates and
synchronizes movement from the attack positions on the far side of the gap.
2. Division main command post, normally supported by an engineer
brigade or MEB, prepares the gap-crossing plan and directs the division’s
operations in-depth to isolate the bridgehead from enemy reinforcements
and/or counter-attack formations.
3. Crossing area commander is usually the division or BCT deputy
commander—responsible for movement of forces approaching gap, ter-
rain management, traffic management.
4. Crossing area engineer is usually an engineer brigade or MEB com-
mander for a division, engineer battalion commander for a BCT—controls
all crossing means in the crossing area and ensures that the execution of
the crossing plan supports the scheme of movement and maneuver and the
commander’s intent.
5. Crossing site commander is usually a bridge company commander
who controls a specific crossing site—responsible for all crossing means
at that site and for crossing units that are sent there. The crossing site
commander is responsible to the crossing area engineer and keeps him
informed on the status of the site.11

Figure 10.6. Units assigned to the stabilization forces (SFOR) conduct river crossing
operations across the Sava River in the Balkans. Courtesy of US Army.
147
Conclusion
River crossing operations present significant challenges to leaders and
units alike. Not only must the planning be thorough and detailed; the exe-
cution must also be precise and punctual. Timing is critical and all leaders
and units must work in harmony to efficiently and effectively complete
this daunting combined arms task. Although training on river crossing op-
erations has been minimal in recent years, the return of a large-scale com-
bat operations focus most certainly warrants a corresponding emphasis on
division-level river crossing operations.
For Army forces to sustain combat readiness and ensure success on
future battlefields, we must regain certain critical skills and attributes that
have lain dormant for some time. The newly emergent operational envi-
ronment demands a level of competence and preparedness unlike previous
years of counter-insurgency operations in the Middle East. So while we
may still face smaller-scale operational challenges, the reality of a world
in which near-peer adversaries compete for our attention requires us to
plan, equip, and train on critical tasks inherent in large-scale combat oper-
ations—especially river crossing operations.

148
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017).
2. “Battle of Rapido River,” Wikipedia, accessed 11 March 2018, https://
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Rapido_River.
3. “Battle of Rapido River.”
4. “Battle of Rapido River.”
5. Duane Schultz, “Rage over the Rapido,” HistoryNet, 8 January 2012,
http://www.historynet.com/rage-over-the-rapido.htm.
6. “Battle of Rapido River,” Wikipedia.
7. Christopher P. Rein, “Attacking Unsupported: The 36th Infantry Division
at the Rapido River, 20–22 January 1944” in The Last 100 Yards: The Crucible
of Close Combat in Large-Scale Combat Operations, ed. Col. Paul E. Berg (Fort
Leavenworth, KS: Army University Press, 2019), 29.
8. Department of the Army, Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-90.4, Com-
bined Arms Mobility Operations (Washington, DC: 2016), 4-1.
9. ATP 3-90.4, 4-5.
10. ATP 3-90.4, 4-7.
11. ATP 3-90.4, 4-12–4-15.

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 Chapter 11
Engineer Support to Large-Scale Defensive Operations
Lt. Col. Sean A. Wittmeier

The newly published Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, is a guiding

document that shapes and outlines how the United States Army fights and
wins its future wars. The future envisioned is a return to a division-centric
army and an emphasis on large-scale combat operations (LSCO) against
near-peer opponents.1 Engineers have always supported the Army by
bringing their unique capabilities to the battlefield. The new version of FM
3-0 requires an examination of the planning and tasks that engineers con-
duct to shape the battlefield during LSCO, particularly during defensive
operations. Providing the right engineer expertise and differentiating the
planning responsibilities at echelon are part of the challenges engineers
face in the return to LSCO. In particular, engineer units and engineer plan-
ners are essential for large-scale defensive operations. This chapter will
explain how engineers support the defense in LSCO by examining current
doctrine and the use of historic examples.
The US Army’s doctrine holds that the defense “develops conditions
favorable for offensive or stability tasks.”2 This transition out of the de-
fense is predicated upon the requirement that units survive the defense with
enough forces to assume the offense. The defense is particularly relevant
considering the current number of forward-deployed units spread around
the world supporting their respective combatant commanders. These are
largely brigade-sized units, with planned division rotations coming in the
near future. If one of these rotational units must defend to set conditions
for follow-on forces, that defense is also the next battle they may lose be-
cause FM 3-0 assesses a dangerous situation for these potential defenders:
Initially, a defending commander is likely to be at a relative disad-
vantage against an attacking enemy since that enemy can choose
when and where to strike. Significant capability gaps in terms of
fires, including air and missile defense (AMD), countermobility,
protection, and aviation may exist early on in any campaign. Also,
joint fires may not be available initially in sufficient quantity, or
the enemy may have dominance in one or more of the domains
that limits joint capabilities.3
These initial forces will have to prepare significantly and intelligently
to overcome capability disadvantages and hold vital terrain. Rigorous
preparation is a key part of the strength of the defense; commanders
151
must have engineers prepare and shape the environment in their favor as
much possible.
What Engineers Do in the Defense
Army engineers exist to “provide freedom of action to enable ground
forces to seize, retain, and exploit the initiative to gain a position of rela-
tive advantage.”4 Engineers organize how they provide this freedom into
three disciplines of engineer support:
• Combat engineering
• General engineering
• Geospatial engineering
And four lines of support:
• Assure mobility
• Enhance protection
• Enable force projection and logistics
• Build partner capacity and develop infrastructure
All of these together form the engineer framework and can be seen
in the planning and execution of a division defense.5 (These bullets are
headings for the hundreds of tasks that lie below them and cover many
activities.) The lines of support describe the ways that the disciplines are
applied to support the ground force commander. The disciplines are com-
posed of the tasks that engineers conduct and the lines of support are the
purposes for the tasks.
Combat engineering is the family of activities playing the largest role
in directly supporting the maneuver commander and is composed of mo-
bility, countermobility, and survivability tasks. Geospatial engineering re-
lates to terrain analysis and the development of products that contribute to
the understanding of terrain and its effects. General engineering are those
activities that are not combat engineering but are required to modify the
existing environment.
Combat engineering will be the primary focus of the division engi-
neers during the defense. The other disciplines have their part to play, but
they are either tangentially related to the defense or are a persistent activ-
ity that occurs during all operations. FM 3-0 recognizes three defensive
tasks: area defense, mobile defense, and retrograde. Combat engineering
supports each of the defensive tasks with variations to the allocation of
engineers across the battlefield.6

152
 Figure 11.1. Framework as a model for the application of engineer effort. From Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-34,
Engineer Operations (Washington, DC: 2014), 1-6.

153
 During the defense, engineers utilize the discipline of combat engi-
neering to shape the battlefield in accordance with the priorities of the
commander. Countermobility is the application of reinforcing obstacles
to augment natural obstacles that turn, block, fix, or disrupt the enemy at-
tack.7 These obstacles take the form of minefields, tank ditches, construct-
ed obstacles, and demolition targets. Survivability is the construction of
fighting positions, protective positions, and hardening structures. Mobility
is the construction of combat roads and trails, gap-crossing, and reducing
existing obstacles, whether enemy or friendly. Each of these is addressed
in detail later in the chapter.
Engineer Formations Available to Support the Division Defense
The only engineers normally within the division are those on the divi-
sion and brigade staffs and those in the brigade engineer battalion (BEB).
The BEB generally has two companies of engineers to support its bri-
gade combat team (BCT). This force structure is most likely insufficient
to conduct all of the engineer tasks within a division defense. For exam-
ple, in very generic soil conditions with experienced crews working for
forty-eight hours, the engineers organic to a heavy mechanized division
can dig enough hull defilade positions for a little more than ten battalions
worth of combat vehicles or enough turret defilade positions for under
five battalions. This dedication of effort would mean that no earth-moving
equipment would be directed toward other vehicle and system protective
positions. Additionally, no blade team effort would be spent creating ob-
stacles, such as anti-tank ditches. All of this work doesn’t even begin to
cover the requirements for the division consolidation and support areas.
Plainly stated, a division in the defense needs to be augmented with ech-
elons above brigade (EAB) engineers, even if just survivability consider-
ations were the only factor.
The Army engineer formations available to support a division come
from the operating-force engineers and are held in the engineer force
pool.8 The organic and force-pool engineers are the resources which en-
gineer planners utilize to develop and execute their support to the maneu-
ver commander. Likely additions to a division would be engineer head-
quarters and engineer baseline units. The headquarters come in the forms
of a battalion- or brigade-sized headquarters, each with robust engineer
planning capability. Baseline engineer units are company-sized elements
which would either be task-organized directly to a BEB, an EAB engineer
battalion, or a maneuver enhancement brigade (MEB). The baseline units

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are combat and general engineer formations, most applicable for combat
engineering in the defense being:
• Sapper company (mobility, counter-mobility, survivability)
• Mobility augmentation company (mobility, counter-mobility)
• Clearance company (mobility)
• Engineer support company (non-explosive mobility and counter-mo-
bility, survivability)
• Horizontal construction company (non-explosive mobility and
counter-mobility, survivability)9
The US Marines are the only members of the Joint force that have
formations designed to conduct combat engineering similar to the Army.10
Marine engineers support their parent units much like a BEB supports its
brigade. The Navy and the Air Force have highly capable engineers, but
they are dedicated to general engineering missions. A division properly
supported with engineer assets can mount a formidable defense.
Countermobility in the Defense
Commanders normally prioritize their engineers on countermobility
during the defense.11 This is done to force the enemy into and trap them in
engagement areas (EA). These EAs are the locations where commanders
focus their efforts to destroy the enemy.12 Countermobility is a vital part of
the EA development process. The development process has seven steps:
1. Identify all likely enemy avenues of approach.
2. Determine likely enemy schemes of maneuver.
3. Determine where to kill the enemy.
4. Emplace weapon systems.
5. Plan and integrate obstacles.
6. Plan and integrate indirect fires.
7. Rehearse the execution of operations in the EA.13
Detailed planning is required to direct the emplacement of obstacles
to limit the enemy’s options. These obstacles are integrated with direct
and indirect fires in order to ensure the enemy can be engaged in accor-
dance with the commander’s intent. The delineation of what obstacles are
planned between the division and the brigade is a matter of military art and
science. The division is typically not the echelon that is physically direct-

155
ing the employment of specific minefields and obstacles. Generally, the
division outlines the obstacle zone and its intent, while the brigades devel-
op the obstacle belts.14 EA development occurs down to the company level
with battalions focusing on obstacle groups, while the companies actually
sight and emplace the individual obstacles within the group.15 There can
be some deviations from these normal planning responsibilities. Divisions
can withhold the authority to emplace obstacles, particularly minefields
and demolition targets, for various reasons. This can go beyond restric-
tions placed on subordinate commanders and speaks to the division fight-
ing a countermobility plan at its level. Commanders may do this through
the designation of high-priority reserve obstacles.16
An example of this occurred during the Korean War. On 3 July 1950,
United Nations forces withdrew under pressure from North Korean at-
tacks behind the Naktong River. These forces destroyed bridges over the
Naktong River after they had crossed them. Eventually only the main-line
railroad bridges and the highway bridge remained. It was the Eighth Ar-
my’s plan to “drop” all of the bridges as part of the defense that would later
become the Pusan Perimeter. After engineers from the 3rd Engineer Com-
bat Battalion prepared the bridges for demolition, the 1st Cavalry Division
commander, Maj. Gen. Hobart R. Gay, ordered that only he could autho-
rize their destruction.17 These bridges were the final means for crossing the
river and would effectively seal in the United Nations forces. This type of
control was due to the scale of the operation and the profound effect that
would come from losing all crossing points over the Naktong River.
Another example of the division, rather than the brigade, directing
obstacles would be a defense conducted across a large area such as a bor-
der. This is especially true if large countermobility projects are required
in depth and individual BCTs do not have sufficient resources or are con-
sumed preparing their own engagement areas. The division solution could
involve using EAB engineers to conduct the work, under division direc-
tion, to complete the project. The division can assign the integration of
the obstacle plan to an engineer brigade and direct the emplacement of
obstacles without requiring the use of the BEB engineers.
Reinforcing obstacles strengthen the effects of the terrain and ensure
that EAs can effectively contain the enemy. Engineers prioritize counter-
mobility in the EAs based upon the commander’s operational framework.
The artistry in countermobility comes from the creative use of reinforcing
obstacles and terrain to achieve the desired effect. Reinforcing obstacles
supporting a defense during LSCO are limited only by the rules of en-
gagement, directions from higher, and the creativity of the engineers on
156
the ground. Most division graphics will only designate an obstacle zone.18
Some may indicate a specific effect is desired in the zone, but they do not
specify each obstacle used to be a minefield. On the ground, engineers
may decide that abatis or rubble obstacles may be more effective to turn
the enemy into the desired EA. These obstacles are often easier to resource
and provide problems the enemy may not be prepared to breach with stan-
dard obstacle reduction equipment. Engineer planners at the division level
should build robust resource requirements into their plan but be prepared
for those resources to be used in potentially unorthodox ways. Within each
obstacle zone planned by the division, the subordinate units can plan belts
that have different obstacle effects that cumulatively achieve the overall
intent of the zone. Within a zone, “turn” obstacle belts combined with
“fix” obstacle belts can be configured to achieve an overall effect of block-
ing within the zone. Figure 11.2 shows an example of this type of obstacle
integration. Division engineer planners must ensure that subordinate units
coordinate their obstacle plans with their adjacent units in order to achieve
the directed effect.

Figure 11.2. Division Obstacle Graphics. Created by the author.

Obstacle effects in EAs speak to the resourcing required to achieve

the effect. Normally this is a factor of multiplying the width of the avenue
of approach by the resource factor of the effect. If the avenue is X meters
wide and the resource factor for a block is Y, it requires XY meters of
linear obstacle effort to achieve the effect. This effect can be any combina-
tion of linear obstacle effort. Tank ditches combined with minefields and

157
supported by road craters could all be part of the obstacle belts supporting
the obstacle zone’s block effect. The division engineers must ensure the
BCT engineers properly report and track their obstacles in order to build
an accurate common operating picture provided via the modified com-
bined obstacle overlay and the required minefield reports, as per the unit’s
standard operating procedure.
The division security area is another location where countermobility
planning can produce significant effects. A security force covering obsta-
cles can generate many dilemmas for the enemy. Premature consumption
of enemy engineer assets, early deployment of enemy forces, and winning
the counter-reconnaissance fight are all reasons to provide engineer sup-
port to the division security forces. Covering forces in particular will gen-
erally have additional engineer support because of their size and mission.19
These opportunities must be weighed against the cost to countermobility
preparation in the EAs.
Survivability in the Defense
Defenders generally do not possess the initiative and must be expected
to weather the blows of the enemy’s initial attacks. Survivability efforts
help ensure defending forces are able to withstand these initial attacks
and continue to fight to the enemy. The commander’s priorities and threat
capabilities determine survivability priorities. Brigade engineers develop
their scheme of survivability to support the close fight and rarely have re-
sources to assist the division headquarters in preparing additional protec-
tive positions and critical asset survivability requirements. As discussed
earlier, the requirements generally exceed the capabilities of the division’s
organic engineers.
The consolidation area, support areas, main battle area, and potentially
the security area require some degree of survivability efforts. Each of these
areas and their commanders compete within the commander’s priorities
for a portion of the available survivability assets. This can be challenging,
particularly if subordinate units become possessive of their engineers. In
fact, the brigade engineers will likely have needs exceeding their ability,
and any requirements beyond their capacity will be submitted as a request
to the division engineer planners. Engineer planners maximize the use of
limited resources by creating clear priorities and assigning clear tasks to
units. Survivability tasks that are not specific lead to mission creep for the
engineers completing the tasks.
An engineer platoon ordered to construct all the fighting positions at
a battle position will find themselves in a debate with the supported unit
158
leadership as to what that task really means. This will likely lead to either
a failure to construct enough fighting positions to meet the intent or a
failure to construct fighting positions required by other units they sup-
port. A platoon that is told to dig fourteen turret-defilade positions and
twenty hull-defilade positions at a battle position understands the require-
ments. Communicating these minute details is necessary to maximize the
amount of survivability work that can be achieved. This level of specificity
begins at the battalion and brigade levels and is submitted to the divi-
sion for support from the EAB engineers. The EAB engineers need clear
guidance from the division in Annex G and engineer fragmentary orders
(FRAGORDS), especially if their services are in high demand across the
division area of operations.20
Support and consolidation areas have extensive survivability require-
ments as well. A maneuver enhancement brigade (MEB) or engineer head-
quarters can ensure an effective survivability plan is developed and exe-
cuted in these areas. Engineers from EAB units can execute survivability
missions and speed the transition to general engineering support on the
critical lines of communication and logistics hubs. These EAB assets also
support the main battle area with baseline engineer units. In the defense,
protecting aviation sites, command posts, ammo sites, and fuel farms re-
quire extensive engineer preparation, all of which will compete with the
main battle area for priority in support. Division engineer planners must
determine the right amount of engineer effort to divert away from the con-
solidation and support areas to assist in the main battle area. Bottom-up
refinement stemming from parallel planning is essential to provide a re-
alistic work requirements breakdown. Without this breakdown, it is not
possible to provide specificity in the taskings to subordinate engineers.
The only recourse for the division at that point is to task-organize the en-
gineers to subordinate commands and let them execute at their level, only
redirecting efforts when specific requirements are requested. The danger
in this broad type of planning is that the use of engineer assets may not be
maximized within division.
Mobility in the Defense
Engineers conduct mobility operations to enable maneuver and move-
ment. There are many mobility requirements in the defense, and they can
be costly in terms of lives, time, and equipment. During a mobile defense,
the priority of the engineer mobility effort is to create maneuver space sup-
porting the strike force. Engineers assist in overcoming natural obstacles
and breaching any obstacles the enemy may employ along its flanks as part

159
of its assault. This requires the strike force to reduce lanes if no bypasses
are available. Natural and enemy obstacles are not the only reduction re-
quirements in the defense. Friendly obstacles may also require reduction
in order to facilitate a counterattack or exploit success. Beyond reducing
obstacles, combat roads and trails may be required to provide prepared
routes for counterattacks or spoiling attacks, or to support access to battle
positions. Mobility support to spoiling attacks can be critical, particularly
if the enemy is in a defense building combat power prior to the attack.
In March 1966, the 1st Infantry Division mounted a series of spoiling
attacks against North Vietnamese forces. The US Army Center of Military
History’s volume on combat engineers in Vietnam recalled:
Throughout these operations, Colonel Sargent’s 1st Engineer Bat-
talion and Captain Sowell’s 173rd engineer company supported
the infantry. Combat engineers augmented every infantry compa-
ny and larger unit in the field with demolition teams. They also
cleared and repaired roads, built landing zones, carried out the slow
and deliberate clearance of bunkers and tunnels, and set up water
points. . . . Company C supported the 3rd Brigade and cleared and
repaired roads into the area of operations. The battalion’s tankdoz-
ers and flamethrowers also supported the operation.21
Reconnaissance and security forces also require mobility support during
the counter-reconnaissance fight. Mobility requirements within the sup-
port and consolidation areas are extensive as well. Lines of communica-
tion, roads, and trails need to be established between logistical nodes to
prepare the division to go onto the offensive. These activities can again be
overseen by the MEB or EAB engineer headquarters. Route clearance can
be required to combat any attempts to disrupt movement in the division
area of operations. As with all engineer efforts, the amount of mobility
tasks is always competing in priority for the time and resources available
to execute them.
Conclusion
Division engineers in LSCO primarily conduct combat engineering,
countermobility, survivability, and mobility support in line with the com-
mander’s priorities. It is foreseeable that future campaigns may begin
and end in defensive operations, thus demanding their execution be well-
planned during training as well as actual combat operations. Division-level
engineers will generally not possess sufficient assets to accomplish these
missions and require augmentation from the EAB engineer force pool. A
significant challenge for division engineer planners is the distribution of
160
engineer effort within the support area, consolidation area, and main battle
area. Further complicating the problem, brigade-level engineers are often
tasked with non-engineer responsibilities, such as battlespace ownership
or supporting area defense. This will create dilemmas within BEBs at-
tempting to use engineers for other purposes.
An open dialogue amongst engineer leaders and clear intent from the
maneuver commander is necessary to keep these missions from negatively
impacting the engineer mission. The defense demands a thoughtful and
measured approach to leveraging the engineer capability within the di-
vision, including managing its engineer attachments and joint engineer
capability. The primary vehicle for directing engineer activity exists in
Annex G of the division operation order with possible attachments for
counter-mobility, survivability, and mobility. There is not a directed for-
mat for these attachments, as they are developed as part of unit standard
operating procedures.22 As a planning consideration, defenses may have
extensive time spans. These buildups can take engineer planning out of
the standard division planning horizons and lead to the establishment of
working groups and project meetings, depending on the volume and scale
of the engineer operations being undertaken. This timeline can be further
blurred by the transition to stability operations, which may shift priorities
of effort within the division area.
The campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan have provided many lessons
for how to manage this transition to stability, including the increase in
general engineering-related tasks that accompanies almost all these transi-
tions. These stability tasks are still part of the future that FM 3-0 envisions.
Stability tasks are difficult but do not generally have the level of lethality
that comes with LSCO. If the next conflict resembles the future operating
environment depicted in FM 3-0, the engineer regiments will certainly be
busy supporting the commander long enough to see the transition stability
operations and the challenges they pose.

161
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), x.
2. FM 3-0, 6-1.
3. FM 3-0, 6-1.
4. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-34, Engineer Operations
(Washington, DC: 2014), iv.
5. FM 3-34, iv.
6. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 6-1.
7. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and De-
fense, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: 2013), A-15.
8. Department of the Army, FM 3-34, 1-4.
9. FM 3-34, 1-5.
10. Department of Defense, Joint Publication (JP) 3-34, Joint Engineer
Operations (Washington DC: 2016), I-9.
11. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 6-9.
12. FM 3-90-1, A-23.
13. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-21.10, The Infantry Rifle
Company (Washington DC: 2010), 5-30.
14. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, A-16.
15. Department of the Army, FM 3-21.10, 5-35.
16. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 6-9.
17. Roy E. Appleman, US Army in the Korean War: South to the Naktong,
North to the Yalu (Washington, DC: US Army Center of Military History,
1961), 251.
18. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, A-15.
19. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-90-2, Reconnaissance,
Security, and Tactical Enabling Tasks, vol. 2 (Washington, DC: 2013), 2-7.
20. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Command and Staff
Organization and Operations (Washington, DC: 2014), 2-19.
21. Adrian G. Traas, Engineers at War (Washington, DC: US Army Center
of Military History, 2010), 167.
22. Department of the Army, FM 6-0, D-45.

162
 Chapter 12
Mobility Operations in the Offense
Lt. Col. Andrew A. Thueme

Mobility Operations in the Karbala Gap April 2003

In its drive toward Baghdad in 2003, the 3rd Infantry Division (3 ID)
faced a significant mobility challenge in trying to maneuver through the
Karbala Gap. The Karbala Gap is located between the city of Karbala and
Bar al Milh Lake, and serves as a chokepoint on a main route to Bagh-
dad. In 2003, the gap was mainly farmland but multiple canals, dikes, and
palm tree groves made the terrain difficult for the division’s mechanized
brigades to traverse. Further complicating the plan to move through this
chokepoint was the fact that once through the gap, the division planned
to quickly cross the Euphrates River. To accomplish both these tasks, it
would need the support of organic and attached engineer battalions as well
as military police (MP) and chemical units that would focus on a series of
mobility-oriented missions. Initial operations to secure the gap by 1st Bri-
gade Combat Team (BCT), 3 ID required its Task Force (TF) 3-69 to seize
a small bridge and a dam (Objective Muscogee) as well as clear a mine-
field blocking a key highway.1 The 3rd Brigade Combat Team would then
relieve the force at Objective Muscogee and control traffic flow across
the bridge. To do that, the 3 ID commander had to augment his 3rd BCT
with the 937th Engineer (EN) Group.2 The 2nd BCT 3ID faced far tough-
er mobility challenges than expected, and only one of its battalion-sized
task forces was able to get through the Karbala Gap on its planned axis
of advance. This success was only possible because of the availability
of armored vehicle launched bridges (AVLB) from the brigade’s organ-
ic engineer battalion.3 Once the gap was secured, 3 ID attacked to seize
Objective Peach, the highway bridge north of Karbala over which the di-
vision planned to cross the Euphrates. This operation required multiple
mobility-oriented tasks. First, A Company, 11th EN Battalion had to clear
Iraqi demolition charges on the bridge. Following the initial seizure of the
bridge and the securing of the area around it, 54th EN Battalion placed
a medium girder bridge over a damaged span in order to maintain traffic
flow.4 And 3 ID then emplaced a float bridge across the river resulting in
increased mobility for the division. Finally, the 54th EN assumed the role
of crossing area headquarters which gave the division the freedom to re-
sume its march toward Baghdad.5

163
Figure 12.1. Engineers from 11th Engineer Battalion in rubber boats cross the Euphrates
River to remove demolition charges from the bridge at Objective Peach on 2 April 2003.
Courtesy of US Army.
The Role of Mobility Operations
At the Karbala Gap, mobility operations at the division level play a
key role in the 3 ID commander’s ability to gain and maintain contact and
then exploit the advantage. Since 2001, US Army—and to a certain extent
US Marine Corps—familiarity with mobility operations other than com-
bined arms breaching and route clearance has eroded. This chapter aims to
introduce mobility operations in the offense and provide considerations for
planning and executing these operations at echelons above brigade.
Mobility is defined in multiple doctrinal sources; the most succinct de-
scription of the aims of mobility operations is found in Field Manual (FM)
3-90-1, Offense and Defense: “Its major focus is to enable friendly forces
to move and maneuver freely on the battlefield.”6 As defined by doctrine,
mobility operations include six tasks:
• Breaching operations
• Clearance (area and route)
• Gap-crossing operations
• Combat roads and trails
• Forward aviation combat engineering (FACE)
• Traffic operations
Both FM 3-90-1 and Army Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-90.4, Com-
bined Arms Mobility, share the same definitions of mobility tasks. In the
164
newly introduced Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, there is a change
to the subordinate tasks; the manual removes traffic operations and adds
counter-mobility operations. This article will not address counter-mobility
operations and will only briefly touch on traffic operations.
Breaching operations are combined arms operations to reduce obsta-
cles on the battlefield in order to allow friendly forces freedom of ma-
neuver. Combined arms breaches are normally conducted at the brigade
combat team (BCT) level and involve elements from all warfighting func-
tions.7 When discussing breaching, this article will focus on resourcing the
BCT to conduct combined arms breaching.

Figure 12.2. Engineers from the 10th Engineer Battalion detonate a mine clearing
line charge to allow 3rd Battalion, 69th Armor Regiment to breach an obstacle during
a 13 April 2017 live-fire exercise at the National Training Center, Fort Irwin, Califor-
nia. US Army photo by Maj. Randy Ready.

Clearance operations are operations conducted to clear explosive haz-

ards or obstacles within a given area of operations.8 This task differs from
the tactical task of “clear,” which requires the commander to remove all
enemy forces and eliminate organized resistance.9 While the aim of the
operation is the same as breaching, clearance operations are not done un-
der fire.10 The Army and Marine Corps both gained significant experience
in conducting clearing operations during combat operations in Iraq and
Afghanistan through combined arms route clearance missions. The focus
of these missions was mainly counter-improvised explosive device op-
erations. In large-scale combat operations, route and area clearance op-
erations can include reduction of any obstacle or explosive hazard in a
165
given area or along a route. An example of this is clearing additional lanes
through obstacles previously breached in order to increase traffic flow.11
Gap crossings take many different forms. A gap is any terrain feature
that may be bridged. A gap crossing is the projection of combat power across
a linear obstacle.12 This could be as small as a tank ditch. BCTs are equipped
to cross this type of gap with organic assets as part of a combined arms
breach or when out of contact along a line of communication. Doctrinally,
a river crossing is another form of a gap crossing; the term river crossing
is often used interchangeably with gap crossing. This chapter will discuss
a gap crossing as a tactical river crossing using standard bridging means
(for in-depth information on river crossings, see chapter 10 of this book).
Depending on the situation, route clearance operations may look more like
a combined arms breach during execution. The ultimate aims of route clear-
ance operations are doctrinally aligned with clearance operations.
Combat roads and trails are built when the current road network can-
not support the mobility requirements of the commander. They are usually
temporary in nature. Maneuver BCTs gain a limited capability to construct
them with the addition of the brigade engineer battalion (BEB). The re-
sources required to build combat roads and trails will tax other capabilities
and likely require augmentation from division combat engineering and
general engineering assets.
Forward aviation combat engineering (FACE) operations, while de-
fined as combat engineering tasks, often require general engineering sup-
port. Typical tasks include construction of unmanned aerial system (UAS)
launch and recovery strips, construction of landing zones, and construc-
tion of forward arming and refueling points (FARP). Construction of these
facilities is done to a field-expedient level as they will be temporary in
nature and required on a short time frame.
Traffic management and control spans multiple warfighting functions
and has four discreet sub tasks: movement control, traffic management and
enforcement, main supply route (MSR) and alternate supply route (ASR)
regulation and enforcement, and engineering support to traffic engineer-
ing. While left out of the latest revision of FM 3-0 as a mobility operation,
this task is an integral part of breaching, clearance, and gap-crossing op-
erations. For example, in support of breaching operations, military police
(MP) units can conduct traffic management that enables swift passage of
assault forces and other follow-on forces.13 Traffic management and en-
forcement also enable the smooth flow of units out of assembly areas to

166
increase tempo or as an enabling operation to ensure unimpeded sustain-
ment operations.
Division Planning Responsibilities
BCT and division responsibilities for mobility tasks will vary by type.
What will not change is the division’s overall responsibility to conduct ini-
tial planning and resource allocation for those tasks. The 3 ID’s operations
in the Karbala Gap in 2003 during Operation IRAQI FREEDOM are a
classic example of mobility operations.14 These operations included com-
bined arms elements, engineers, chemical, and military police. This mix of
units included the BCT’s habitual task-organized enablers and what would
be referred to as echelons above brigade (EAB) elements task-organized
by the division HQ in order to support the assault on Objective Peach. The
end result was that successful mobility operations enabled the 3rd Infantry
Division to maintain its momentum to drive all the way to Baghdad.
Division headquarters have a small engineer cell to plan and track
engineer operations. The division engineer cell is led by a lieutenant col-
onel and embedded in the G3 cell. The modified table of organization and
equipment (MTOE) staffs the division engineer cell with a total of eleven
personnel split across the division tactical command post and main com-
mand post. Of these eleven personnel, one major is assigned to the G5 cell.
This level of staffing is not always conducive to detailed engineer plan-
ning. Division engineer cells should focus on conceptual planning to sup-
port the division scheme of maneuver. If detailed planning is required at
the division level, the division engineer cell should conduct collaborative
planning with a task-organized engineer battalion of brigade headquarters.
The aim of division-level planning is to facilitate mobility operations
by maneuver BCTs or functional brigades. Chapter 2 of ATP 3.90-4 covers
planning considerations for mobility operations by steps of the military
decision-making process (MDMP) and Marine Corps planning process
(MCPP). These generic guidelines are meant to support baseline planning.
The end result of planning is a refined task organization that facilitates
BCT movement and maneuver while enabling division mobility from the
division close area through the consolidation and support areas.
Another way to look at the problem set is how mobility operations
support the forms of maneuver. By changing the considerations contained
in Table 5-2 (Engineer Considerations in Offensive Operations) of Army
Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-34.23, Engineer Operations—Echelon
Above Brigade Combat Team, into questions, we can further guide staff

167
planning at the division level to support BCTs with the appropriate mobil-
ity assets as shown below.15
Movement to contact: Has the division balanced task-organizing mo-
bility capabilities with the lead element to optimize response time and
tempo? Has this been accomplished without increasing the risk to the mo-
bility of the main body or limiting its ability to mass breaching assets
against complex obstacles?
Attack: Has our information collection plan generated obstacle infor-
mation which provides the necessary detailed picture of the enemy situa-
tion? If breaching operations are anticipated, have we resourced the BCTs
appropriately? Have we resourced appropriately to clear obstacles and im-
prove lanes to support friendly movement?
Exploitation: As with Movement to Contact, does task organization
of mobility assets support an exploitation by breaching obstacles to fa-
cilitate the maneuver of ground forces, keeping supply routes open, and
emplacing situational obstacles to protect the flanks?
Pursuit: Have we resourced enough mobility assets forward in ma-
neuver formations to quickly breach any obstacles that cannot be bypassed
to ensure unimpeded movement?
Specific Planning Considerations by Mobility Operation
With the addition of the BEBs to BCT organizations beginning in
2015, BCTs gained additional capacity to conduct breaching operations.
This capability is still very minimal and requires augmentation by echelon
above brigade (EAB) engineer assets.16 As alluded to earlier in this chap-
ter, when mobility tasks are added to the BCT, the ability to accomplish
those tasks far outstrips a BEB’s organic resources. For example, when
planning a combined arms breach, the assumed planning factor is one
combat engineer company per maneuver task force. A maneuver task force
requires two lanes by doctrine. This is further compounded by a doctrinal
fifty-percent redundancy of reduction assets, based on anticipated losses
during breaching operations. If multiple task forces are required to breach
obstacles, the BEB’s organic capabilities will be insufficient and will re-
quire augmentation from EAB engineer formations.17 This example does
not even consider asset allocation issues in other warfighting functions
(WfF). BCTs may also require significant augmentation by fires assets,
military police, and chemical units. Within the Protection WfF, the US
Army removed smoke generation platoons from its inventory. This means
that the primary sources of obscurants are smoke pots or artillery-deliv-
ered smoke. These methods of obscuration each have impacts to the Sus-
168
 Steps of the Steps of the
Mobility Planning Considerations
MDMP MCPP

• Gather geospatial information and products (mobility corridors, combined

obstacle overlays) needed to understand the terrain.
• Request geospatial engineers (or Marine Corps geographic intelligence
specialists) to generate geospatial data needed to fill gaps and ensure
accuracy of digital map backgrounds on mission command/command and
Receipt of the control systems.
Mission • Gather intelligence products on adversary's mobility and counter-mobility
ways and means.
• Gather information on local population to determine its effect on mobility.
• Determine availability of existing obstacle information.
• Gather information on road characteristics and trafficability.
• Update running estimates (status of friendly mobility assets).

• Understand unit mission, commander’s intent, and scheme of movement

and maneuver (two levels up).
• Complete the following as part of initial IPB—
Problem - Develop geospatial intelligence and terrain products (mobility corridor,
Framing combined obstacle overlay) to form mobility portion of the COP (real-time
MCOO).
- Evaluate effects of terrain and weather on friendly and enemy mobility
and counter-mobility capabilities.
- Assess enemy mobility and counter-mobility capabilities (manpower,
equipment, materials), and determine strengths and weaknesses.
Mission
- Template enemy obstacles based on threat patterns, terrain, and time
Analysis
available.
• Identify specified and implied mobility tasks and recommended essential
mobility tasks, determine obvious shortfalls in mobility assets, and initiate
requests for augmentation as early as possible during planning.
• Develop information requirements related to mobility (terrain restrictions
and mobility restraints, obstacle information, enemy counter-mobility
capabilities, population considerations) and draft requirements as possible
CCIR.
• Integrate information collection tasks or other necessary specialized
reconnaissance capabilities into the information collection plan.
• Predict impediments to mobility for each COA based on terrain and the
enemy SITEMP, and determine mobility requirements (refine essential tasks
for mobility as necessary).
COA COA
• Determine counter-mobility requirements based on scheme of movement
Development Development
and maneuver of each COA.
• Allocate mobility and counter-mobility assets (troop-to-task analysis) based
on identified requirements.
• War-game task organization of mobility and counter-mobility assets.
Consider attrition of assets resulting from maintenance problems or combat
actions and efforts needed to repair or redistribute (cross-level) assets.
COA War
COA Analysis • War-game changes in the terrain due to natural or human influence.
Gaming
• War-game (action/reaction) enemy use of mobility or counter-mobility
assets (such as SCATMINEs) that will impact friendly scheme of movement
and maneuver.
• Analyze and evaluate advantages and disadvantages for each COA in
relation to the ability to execute mobility. Consider the—
COA - Ability (time-distance factors) to shift mobility assets between units
Comparison beyond the line of departure.
COA - Ability to reinforce mobility in response to enemy counterattacks (use of a
Comparison reserve).
and Decision • Gain approval for changes to the essential tasks for mobility.
•Gain approval for recommended priorities of effort and support.
COA Approval
• Gain approval for requests for mobility augmentation to be sent to higher
headquarters.

Orders • Ensure that the task organization of mobility and counter-mobility assets is
Orders Development accurate and clear, to include the necessary instructions for effecting linkup.
Production • Ensure that the quality and completeness of subunit instructions for
Transition
performing mobility and counter-mobility tasks.

Figure 12.3. Mobility Planning Considerations. From Army Techniques Publi-

cation (ATP) 3-90.4, Combined Arms Mobility.

169
tainment WfF (on-hand quantities and delivery of both) and Fires WfF
(time to deliver, other targets not serviced, and vulnerability of howitzers
to counter-fire). The shortfalls in BCT capabilities require division plan-
ners to anticipate potential obstacles that a BCT may have to breach. This
in turn drives planning to resource the BCT in a timely fashion so that
BCTs can integrate required assets into planning and rehearsals. The ul-
timate goal is to make combined arms breaching as in-stride as resources
allow in order to maintain the momentum of an attack.18
Clearing operations generally span from offensive phases into phases
focused on consolidation of gains. As with breaching, division-level plan-
ners must anticipate the amount of effort needed and resource appropriate-
ly. While BCTs have a route clearance platoon, this is a limited capability
and may need to be reinforced. Simultaneously, division planners must
resource clearance efforts in the consolidation and support areas. These ar-
eas are critical to maintaining freedom of movement for follow-on forces
and enabling uninterrupted flow of critical classes of supply to the maneu-
ver BCTs. A clearance company can clear 159 miles of two-way routes
per day. Division planners must balance this against the threat to lines of
communication. If more assets are required, division planners must make
the hard choice to repurpose other engineer formations into a route clear-
ance role. This does not come without risk, as these formations will not
be as capable or proficient in the clearance role; most importantly, the
commander will have to decide if the loss of capability to conduct other
missions will be worth the risk.
Gap crossing operations require significant division-level planning
and resourcing to be successful. Critical planning considerations include:
1. Determining whether the crossing will be a BCT operation or a di-
vision operation.
2. The size of the breakout force needed on the far side of the river.
3. The amount of engineer effort required to cross the gap.
4. Traffic management requirements based on forces required to
achieve the crossing and breakout from the bridgehead line.
5. For division-level crossing, the headquarters of the crossing area en-
gineer should conduct much of the detailed planning in coordination with
the division HQ. The crossing area engineer’s staff has the depth of knowl-
edge and requisite manning to conduct this planning where a division staff
has limited engineer personnel in addition to competing demands.19

170
 Constructing combat roads and trails is defined as a combat engineer-
ing task; based upon analyses of the terrain, augmentation may be needed
from general engineering units. Chapter 7 of ATP 3-90.4 covers planning
and constructing combat roads and trails in detail. From a division-level
perspective, the two critical factors are determining the amount of combat
roads and trails required. This, in turn, generates resource requirements
from both engineer unit and material resources perspectives. Additional-
ly, if combat engineer units require augmentation from general engineer
units, planners must account for additional security requirements as gen-
eral engineer units are only manned and equipped to defend against a lev-
el-one threat.
In planning for FACE operations, planners must first understand the
physical requirements of the FACE location in order to understand the
amount of engineering effort. Is it expansion of a landing zone or an ex-
traction zone? Is it construction and maintenance of a landing strip or a for-
ward aviation operating facility that requires aircraft bed-down and main-
tenance? What will the facility be supporting in terms of friendly scheme
of maneuver and logistics requirements? Once these requirements are un-
derstood by planners, a detailed analysis of the assets required versus the
assets available can be made. Maneuver BCTs and their associated BEBs
have limited assets to conduct this type of operation. Augmentation by
additional engineer elements should be anticipated by the division. BEBs
within BCTs have limited ability to construct airstrips for their Shadow
UAS platoons. However, they must understand the total resource require-
ments before committing to construction of a UAS airstrip and what other
mobility operations are competing for those requirements. Planners must
consider all resource impacts prior to committing to a course of action that
requires FACE operations.
Bottom-up refinement to plans for mobility operations from maneuver
BCTs and functional battalions is critical. While the focus of this chap-
ter has been on top-down planning from division and higher, bottom-up
refinement based on actual conditions on the ground provides a level of
detail that enables modification of required mobility assets. Changes due
to feedback from the BCTs will most likely result in task-organization
changes. To this end, planners at division and higher should attempt to
retain some engineer assets in the early stages of operations in order to
facilitate rapid task organization changes. If this is not possible, then di-
vision- and corps-level planners will need to decide which missions must
be halted, suspended, or transferred to another unit in order to facilitate a
task organization change.
171
 Each WfF has specific planning considerations that must be factored
into planning mobility operations. By utilizing a WfF approach, division-
and corps-level planners can use this as a check against the planning fac-
tors previously mentioned in this chapter. This is not meant as an all-en-
compassing list, merely a start point for division level planners.
Conclusion
The common theme running through mobility operations is the fo-
cus on the resources required to enable these operations. Divisions must
carefully decide which operations will be given to BCTs to execute and
which operations will be assigned to the MEB or an engineer brigade. As
divisions assign tasks to BCTs, division planners must include the neces-
sary augmentation required based upon effort anticipated. Planners must
also consider BCT (and BEB) limitations on span of control. It may be
necessary to augment the BCT with an EAB engineer battalion (or other
EAB functional battalion) headquarters if the amount of additional engi-
neer and enabler companies will exceed the capability of the BEB within
the BCT to provide effective mission command. By understanding these
requirements and taking them into account during planning, division plan-
ners can ensure that the division and subordinate BCTs retain freedom of
movement and maneuver in the offense.

172
Mission Command • Determine effective span of control of
subordinate elements conducting
mobility operations
• Identify reporting procedures for
completion of critical mobility tasks
Movement and Maneuver • Determine critical aspects of mobility
requirements based off of scheme of
maneuver
• Develop and recommend mobility tasks
and priorities
• Develop task organization to support
mobility tasks
• Identify shortfalls based on troop to task
and make requests for augmentation
• Track friendly obstacle emplacement to
ensure that it does not impede friendly
mobility
Intelligence • Identify & understand terrain impacts on
friendly scheme of maneuver
• Identify critical obstacle details
• Identify condition and capability of
current infrastructure that may affect
movement and maneuver
• Identify enemy obstacle location,
disposition and composition in order to
inform friendly scheme of maneuver
Fires • Identification of critical friendly zones
• Identification of possible indirect fire
points of origin affecting mobility
operations in the support and
consolidation areas
• Assist with C-IED attack the network
operations through the targeting process
Sustainment • Understand material requirements of
Mobility operations
• Understand transportation infrastructure
requirements that enable continued
sustainment of combat elements in order
to maintain momentum
• Plan, coordinate, and synchronize
sustainment movement/convoys along
MSRs/ASRs as required
Protection • Understand security requirements for
EAB units
• Understand and plan against potential
threats to mobility operations
• Identify and prioritize critical mobility
assets and plan for defense of those
assets

Figure 12.4. Considerations by Warfighting Function. Created by the author.

173
 Notes
1. Gregory Fontenot, E. J. Degen, and David Tohn, On Point: US Army
Operations in Iraqi Freedom (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute
Press, 2004), 286.
2. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, 287.
3. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, 287–88.
4. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, 290.
5. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, 292, 295.
6. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and De-
fense, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: 2013), 1-33.
7. For further information on planning and executing combined arms
breaches, refer to Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 17-10, 10 Skills
to Win the First Fight (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2017).
8. Department of the Army, Army Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-90.4,
Combined Arms Mobility (Washington, DC: 2016), 1-13.
9. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, Glossary-6.
10. ATP 3-90.4, Combined Arms Mobility, 6-1.
11. ATP 3-90.4, Combined Arms Mobility.
12. ATP 3-90.4, Combined Arms Mobility, 1-14.
13. Robert Rapone, “Military Police Support to Breaching Operations,” Op-
erations Group National Training Center MilSuite, 15 June 2017, https://www.
milsuite.mil/book/docs/DOC-382604.
14. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, On Point, 287–93.
15. Department of the Army, Army Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-34.23,
Engineer Operations—Echelon Above Brigade Combat Team (Washington, DC:
2015), 5-54.
16. ATP 3-34.23.
17. Department of the Army, Army Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-90.4,
Combined Arms Mobility (Washington, DC: 2016), 3-38–3-39.
18. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 7-73; Department of the Army, Army Techniques Publication
(ATP) 3-91, Division Operations (Washington, DC: 2014), 6-11.
19. For further information, see ATP 3.90-4, Combined Arms Mobility, as
well as Chapter 10 of this book.

174
 Chapter 13
Transitions: Adapting to Change
in Division Large-Scale Combat Operations
Frederick A. Baillergeon

One of the most challenging aspects of conducting any endeavor is to

facilitate change. Within this action, there are two key components. Ini-
tially, there exists the mental element of change. Obviously, critical to this
element is actually determining when change is necessary. The other com-
ponent is the action or actions taken to make the necessary change. These
actions constitute the physical component of change.
As we all have personally experienced, change is incredibly difficult
to acknowledge and begin, let alone successfully accomplish. In his sem-
inal work, The Prince, Machiavelli stated, “And let it be noted that there
is no more delicate matter to take in hand, nor more dangerous to conduct,
nor more doubtful in its success, than to set up as a leader in the introduc-
tion of changes.”1 Machiavelli’s words are every bit as true and powerful
today as when written almost 500 years ago.
Executing change on the battlefield possesses its own unique set of vari-
ables and conditions. This chapter focuses on this change as it relates to a di-
vision conducting large-scale combat operations (LSCO). In particular, we
will focus on two extremely challenging changes executed during LSCO:
a unit changing (transitioning) from offensive to defensive combat opera-
tions, and the transition from defensive to offensive combat operations.
Transitions
In today’s doctrine, the subject of transitions is primarily addressed
in Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and Defense, and Army Doctrine
Reference Publication (ADRP) 3-90, Offense and Defense. Each defines
a transition in essentially the same terms. FM 3-90-1 states, “A transi-
tion occurs when the commander makes the assessment that the unit must
change its focus from one element of military operations to another.”2
In order to dissect the subject of transitions—specifically changing
from offense to defense and defense to offense—this chapter emphasiz-
es the aforementioned mental and physical components of change. These
components are unique in themselves but are clearly interrelated.

175
 In this discussion of change, the chapter is guided by these questions:
1. What is opportunity as it relates to the battlefield?
2. What is a culminating point?
3. What are the indicators that a unit has or is approaching culmination
on the offense or the defense?
4. Why would a unit want to transition from the offense to the defense
or the defense to the offense?
5. How does a unit conducting large-scale combat operations effec-
tively transition from the offense to the defense?
6. How does a unit conducting large-scale combat operations effec-
tively transition from the defense to the offense?
To provide answers to these questions, this chapter will examine cur-
rent (principally FM 3-90-1 and ADRP 3-90) and past doctrine, historical
lessons learned, and personal experiences of the author and other soldiers.
The Mental Component of Change
This chapter’s initial paragraph highlighted that before a change—or
transition—can occur, one must determine when, and if, that change is
necessary. For the division commander, this determination is greatly as-
sisted by discerning if an opportunity or a culminating point has developed
or will develop—for either friendly or enemy forces—in the foreseeable
future. The concepts of opportunity and culminating point clearly lie in
this mental component of change. Each is discussed below.
During large-scale combat operations, a division commander may be
afforded certain opportunities that may serve several important purposes
greatly influencing the conduct of combat operations. First, the command-
er may be presented an opportunity to seize the initiative away from his
opponent. At first thought, this opportunity would lead exclusively to of-
fensive operations. However, it is also possible that the opportunity would
have defensive connotations. Second, an opportunity may develop that
provides a division commander the ability to get his unit out of a bad situ-
ation, prevent defeat, or avoid its potential destruction. Again, this oppor-
tunity may be tied to either offensive or defensive operations.
A division commander can discover or determine an opportunity
several ways. To begin with, the opportunity may simply develop in the
course of combat operations. In this case, there is no anticipation of the
opportunity; the commander and his staff are reacting to the situation. The
other occurrence is when the division commander and his staff anticipate
176
the opportunity and conduct prior planning and potentially dedicate re-
sources to seek that opportunity. Because of opportunity’s importance, the
commander may decide that finding this opportunity (and then acting on
it) is one of the key decisions he will make during operations. Conse-
quently, the division commander may make this one of his commander’s
critical information requirements (CCIR). This in turn facilitates finding
and acting (in a timely manner) on the opportunity.
In current doctrine, the term opportunity is not addressed in any sig-
nificant detail. However, the concept of positions of relative advantage is
presented sufficiently in the 2017 version of FM 3-0, Operations. Posi-
tions of relative advantage have a close tie to opportunity. In particular,
they relate to opportunities that would assist a commander in seizing the
initiative from his opponent. FM 3-0 defines this concept as “a location or
establishment of a favorable condition within the area of operations that
provides the commander with temporary freedom of action to enhance
combat power over an enemy or influence the enemy to accept risk and
move to a position of disadvantage.”3
Within FM 3-0, there are several key points in the discussion of po-
sitions of relative advantage pertinent to change and transitions. First, the
manual emphasizes these positions are usually very fleeting in nature and
a unit must exhibit initiative to exploit them. Second, positions of relative
advantage often appear on the battlefield under the most ambiguous and
chaotic conditions. Finally, units must cultivate a mission command cli-
mate which enables leaders to act on a position of relative advantage when
it presents itself.4
Perhaps the best articulation of opportunity (positions of relative ad-
vantage) was crafted several decades ago in the 1997 Marine Corps Tacti-
cal Publication (MCTP) 1, Warfighting:
In all cases, the commander must be prepared to react to the un-
expected and to exploit opportunities created by conditions which
develop from initial action. When identification of enemy critical
vulnerabilities is particularly difficult, the commander may have
no choice but to exploit any and all vulnerabilities until action
uncovers a decisive opportunity. As the opposing wills interact,
they create various fleeting opportunities for either force. Such
opportunities are often born of the disorder that is natural in war.
They may be the result of our own actions, enemy mistakes, or
even chance. By exploiting opportunities, we create in increasing
numbers more opportunities for exploitation. It is often the ability

177
 and the willingness to ruthlessly exploit these opportunities that
generate decisive results. The ability to take advantage of oppor-
tunity is a function of speed, flexibility, boldness, and initiative.5
Out of the excerpt above come two specific points which reinforce the
discussion on opportunity in FM 3-0. First, opportunities are brief on the
battlefield and the commander must prepare himself and his unit to ex-
ploit them. Second, because these opportunities often present themselves
in the most chaotic of times, the commander and staff must be able to see
through the “fog” of battle to discern these moments of relative advantage.
The other concept tied to the mental component of change is the cul-
minating point. As with many concepts, the idea of culmination—or the
culminating point—is associated with Carl von Clausewitz. In On War,
Clausewitz asserts:
Beyond that point the scale turns and the reaction follows with a
force that is usually much stronger than that of the original attack.
This is what we mean by the culminating point of the attack. Since
the object of the attack is the possession of the enemy’s territory,
it follows that the advance will continue until the attacker’s supe-
riority is exhausted; it is this that drives the offensive on toward
its goal and can easily drive it further. If we remember how many
factors contribute to an equation of forces, we will understand
how difficult it is in some cases to determine which side has the
upper hand. Often it is entirely a matter of the imagination. What
matters therefore is to detect the culminating point with discrimi-
native judgment.6
Within Clausewitz’s discussion, it should be emphasized that determining
the culminating point (the mental component of change) in combat is ex-
tremely problematic. As Clausewitz highlights, there are numerous factors
used to determine if culmination has or will soon take place. In the final
analysis, the commander must utilize his own judgment in determining
a culminating point. Clearly, there is both art and science in this concept
and this is what makes that determination difficult. This balance of art and
science and its related difficulty is addressed later in this chapter.
The US Army did not truly address operational art and embrace (or at
least acknowledge) the concept of culmination until the 1980s. In 1986, the
newly published version of FM 100-5, Operations, included discussions
of both concepts. The manual devoted nearly two pages to the concept
of culminating points, which closed with a paragraph on transition. That
passage concludes, “Once operations begin, the attacking commander
178
must sense when he has reached or is about to reach his culminating point,
whether intended or not, and revert to the defense at a time and place of his
own choosing. For his part, the defender must be alert to recognize when
his opponent has become overextended and be prepared to pass over to the
counteroffensive before the attacker is able to recover his strength.”7
In current doctrine, the concept of culmination does not receive the
amount of attention it did in the 1980s. The current FM 3-0 Operations
does not address the term whatsoever. However, ADRP 3-0, Operations,
does discuss the concept at some length. It defines the culminating point
as “that point in time and space at which a force no longer possesses the
capability to continue its current form of operations.”8 It further differenti-
ates between the culminating point within the offense and the defense. In
the offense, it explains that culmination occurs when the unit is unable to
continue the offensive and must either shift to a defensive posture or con-
duct an operational pause. In the defense, a culminating point exists when
the unit does not possess the ability to defend itself and consequently, must
conduct some form of retrograde or likely face the destruction of the force.9
More specifically in the offense, culmination is found in three partic-
ular instances in time and space: 1) the attacker’s combat power no longer
exceeds that of the defender, 2) the attacker has lost the momentum for the
attack, 3) the attacker can no longer logistically sustain the continuation
of the attack. A unit could experience all of the above concurrently or may
exhibit each singularly.
In the defense, culmination is found in three particular instances in
time and space: 1) the defender does not possess sufficient combat power
to defend against an enemy attack, 2) the defender cannot conduct a cohe-
sive defense, 3) the defender is in danger of being completely overrun. All
of these could transpire near the same juncture.
The concept of culminating points is especially pertinent when dis-
cussing transitions. If the division commander fails to anticipate culmina-
tion, that failure dramatically affects the division’s ability to conduct an ef-
fective transition. In the conduct of the offense, if the division commander
does not anticipate a culmination to his attack, the division is vulnerable.
If the enemy senses this culmination, it is likely they will transition from
a defensive posture to a counterattack. If this occurs, the division com-
mander will presumably go to a defensive posture in terrain not conducive
to conducting a hasty defense. Certainly, earlier detection of culmination
may have enabled the unit to mask its intentions from the enemy or at least
locate terrain more effective for conducting a hasty defense.

179
 In the conduct of his own defense, a division commander not antici-
pating his enemy’s culmination during the attack may allow the enemy to
successfully transition to a defensive posture or execute a form of retro-
grade. That can lead to several outcomes. First, the division commander
loses precious time in seizing the initiative from the enemy or potentially
may find he cannot capture the initiative from his foe. Second once the
division finally transitions, it will likely incur more losses if the enemy is
afforded more time to find more defensible terrain. Third and related to the
above, the division commander will expend more resources in attacking
an enemy occupying more defensible terrain. Finally if the division com-
mander allows an enemy to execute a successful retrograde, he may not
have taken advantage of seizing the initiative from his foe.
Culminating Point Indicators
There are many indicators on the battlefield that can assist a division
commander in determining if either side is nearing or has reached culmina-
tion. It is critical that the division commander anticipate culmination before
the fact so that the ability to transition is still a feasible option for his unit.
Undoubtedly, a smart enemy will try to hide these indicators from his op-
ponent. Some of these key indicators are much easier to mask than others:
• Intelligence determines the enemy is himself transitioning from the
offense to the defense or is executing some form of retrograde operations.
• The tempo or momentum of the enemy attack has dramatically
slowed or even completely stalled.
• Enemy attacks are piecemeal without any mass.
• Your battle damage assessments of the enemy point to heavy losses.
• You assess there is little in the way of mission command in the en-
emy attack.
• The enemy attack appears void of any synchronization of warfight-
ing functions.
• The enemy forces templated as the enemy reserve are intermixed
with front line forces.
• Increasing numbers of enemy have been captured.
• During interrogation, enemy prisoners of war indicate culmination of
their unit.
• Examination of captured equipment may point toward the enemy’s
inability to presently resupply themselves.

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 • Friendly forces on the attack experience little or no resistance.
• While on the attack, friendly forces discover a large amount of aban-
doned equipment.10
A division commander does not need to possess a checklist mentality
to determine culmination. If a commander waits until he or she can con-
firm a preponderance of the above indicators present, he or she will likely
conduct a transition far too late. The division commander must utilize in-
tuitive skills (with support from his staff) and make a decision.
Have You Culminated or Are You Nearing Culmination?
One of the more difficult things anyone can do is admit defeat or, to
phrase it another way, acknowledge one’s immediate inability to achieve
success. This is particularly true for a commander leading an offensive.
Human nature tends to sway a commander that if there is a glimmer of
hope, the attack will ultimately be successful. Consequently, an attack may
be continued when there is no possibility for mission accomplishment,
resulting in the expenditure of precious resources.
The prudent commander clearly understands the lessons of the past.
Athenian orator and statesman Demosthenes (384–322 BC) made the fol-
lowing comment after the Battle of Chaeronea in 338 BC: “The man who
runs away may fight again.”11 English novelist and poet Oliver Goldsmith
(1730–74) expanded on these words centuries later: “He who fights and
runs away may live to fight another day; but he who is in battle slain can
never rise to fight again.”12 Doctrine offers indicators for a division com-
mander which echo the words of Demosthenes and Goldsmith:
• Determining that the tempo or momentum of the attack has signifi-
cantly slowed or even halted.
• Reports from subordinate commanders are far from encouraging. In
fact, they assess they cannot achieve their mission.
• Soldiers are physically and mentally exhausted from current combat
operations.
• Many subordinate units report being critically short on ammunition.
• Many subordinate units report they are precariously short on fuel.
• The logistical system cannot keep up with requirements from subor-
dinate units.
• Casualties and vehicle losses are escalating.

181
 • The reserve has already been deployed and there are no forces avail-
able to designate a new reserve.
• Intelligence indicates the enemy is receiving substantial reinforce-
ments.
• The enemy is successfully mounting small-unit counterattacks. In-
telligence believes these are being conducted by units recently arriving
into the area of operations.13
The axiom “know yourself” is engrained in many soldiers. This is
clearly connected to the above indicators. Division commanders utilize
these indicators to assist in knowing themselves and their unit. However,
commanders cannot wait until numerous indicators appear. Division com-
manders seeking some type of absolute confirmation of culmination will
unquestionably lose the ability to conduct a transition which assists in pre-
serving combat power as well as resources and setting the conditions for
future large-scale combat operations. As previously addressed, command-
ers take advantage of their intuitive skills (with support from their staff)
and conclude the unit is nearing culmination and must make a decision.
Decisions
The final aspect of the mental component of change is for command-
ers to make a decision.
The concepts of opportunity (positions of relative advantage) and cul-
mination greatly impact a division commander’s decision-making process.
If the commander feels an opportunity has opened—or will open—or that
culmination has occurred—or will occur—on either side, then it is time
to make a decision. This can unfold in three ways. The most undesirable
of these is for the division commander to simply not make a decision. In
this case, the end result is fairly predictable. If they are in the defense, a
non-decision means they will not be able to exploit an opportunity to tran-
sition to the offense. If they are in the offense, a non-decision could very
well mean the destruction of the unit or at the very least the majority of it.
Second, and marginally more preferable, is for the division command-
er to decide to execute but not in a timely manner. A commander can wait
too long to act in a window of opportunity. In the case of transitioning to
the offense, some commanders may wait until nearly all the indicators are
present. By that time, the window of opportunity may have closed or the
subsequent attack may not be as effective as it might have been if it was
more timely. In the case of transitioning to the defense, any time wasted in
not making the decision results in more losses in personnel and equipment.

182
 Finally, the division commander can make a timely decision and ex-
ecute the transition. In this optimal case, the commander does not wait
until all indicators are seen. As with most occurrences on the battlefield,
a decision must be made despite the absence of perfect information. Con-
sequently as indicators start appearing, the commander must conduct an
analysis and make a determination. There can be no trepidation or hesita-
tion in the process.
With time being such a consideration in the above case, the division
commander can significantly benefit by utilizing the rapid decision-mak-
ing and synchronization process (RDSP). This technique is perfectly suit-
ed when determining if a transition should be conducted and how it should
be executed. FM 6-0, Mission Command, highlights four characteristics
which make the RDSP especially effective in decision-making; all of these
clearly relate to implementing a transition:
1. It is comprehensive in integrating all warfighting functions. It is not
limited to any warfighting functions.
2. It ensures all actions support the decisive operation by relating them
to the commander’s intent and concept of operations.
3. It allows rapid changes to the order or mission.
4. It is continuous, allowing commanders to react immediately to op-
portunities and threats.14
Two of these factors are especially relevant in reference to transitions.
First, it strives to integrate all warfighting functions. It would be easy to
simply focus on movement and maneuver. However, this would not set the
conditions for success in execution of the transition. Second and clearly
tied to the chapter’s earlier discussion, it allows commanders to quickly
respond to an opportunity or threat. There is nothing more important in the
area of transitions than the ability to respond as rapidly as feasible. With
the decision made, it is time for the unit to execute. This chapter now fo-
cuses on the physical aspect of change and this execution.
Defense to Offense
Once the decision is made to transition from the defense to the of-
fense, the determination of which technique to use drives execution. A
unit has essentially two techniques available in this regard. The first is to
initiate the transition with forces already defending forward and already
in contact. The second—and preferred—option is to commence the transi-
tion with forces not previously committed in the defense and likely not in
contact.15 However, METT-TC (mission, enemy, terrain, troops available,
183
time, and civilian considerations) considerations could persuade the divi-
sion commander to select the first technique. The advantages and disad-
vantages for each are discussed below.
The first method a division commander may employ is to utilize the
forces he currently has positioned forward in the defense. These forces
will be the first units to transition to the offense. There are several advan-
tages to this technique:
• This option offers the potential and ability to rapidly transition to
the offense. Since these forces are already positioned forward, the time
to transition to the offense should be minimal for a trained unit. Certain-
ly, this is a significant consideration when a window of opportunity can
close quickly.
• This technique should be the less complicated of the two options—
principally because it should not require the always-challenging (and
time-consuming) forward passage of lines.
• In terms of the human dimension, the forward units that initially ex-
ecute the transition should already possess a “feel” for the enemy and the
current combat environment. This includes picking up on their tendencies
and acquiring an understanding of enemy strengths and weaknesses.
• Forward units should possess an inherent understanding of the mis-
sion and operational variables in their area of operations.16
This method does contain some considerable disadvantages or chal-
lenges that must be considered:
• Earlier planning, preparing, and ultimately executing a defense is
an exhausting undertaking. Consequently, the forces initiating the offense
will not be near peak physical and mental condition.
• Unless units are logistically resupplied, they will enter offensive op-
erations with limitations in fuel and ammunition.
• The above two concerns may contribute to the force actually culmi-
nating themselves while conducting the offense.
After determining the enemy attack has culminated, the 52nd Division
commander believes there is an opportunity to transition to the offense and
seize the initiative. With a very small window of opportunity available, the
commander has decided to transition to the offense with forces already in
contact. Within the concept of operation, 1st Brigade conducts the decisive
operation by conducting a counterattack into the flank of enemy forces.
The 2nd and 3rd brigades set the conditions for the attack by executing

184
shaping operations for 1st Brigade. They have been assigned the tactical
tasks fix and block respectively.

Defense to Offense: FEBA

FEBA
Already in Contact / PL AMBER
PL AMBER
Posi�oned Forward

N
XX X X XX

LD PL BLUE
PL BLUE LD

X
PL CYAN
PL CYAN X
X
X

PL DIRT
PL DIRT
XX

Figure 13.1. Transitioning to the offense while using forces already in contact, positioned
forward. Created by Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe.

Not in Contact or Positioned behind Forward Units

The other method a division commander may employ is to utilize forc-
es not currently committed in the defense. These forces may be the reserve
or brigade combat teams (BCTs) which were not in contact. In analyzing
the advantages and disadvantages of this method, one will find that many
advantages are almost polar opposites of the first technique, including: 
• Forces not in contact should be in far better condition both physical-
ly and mentally than those who were or are in contact.
• Units should have little or no logistical issues, such as possessing
sufficient fuel and ammunition to conduct offensive operations.
• If this transition was addressed in planning, units may have been giv-
en be-prepared tasks tied to the transition. Since they are presumably not in
contact, they could utilize this time to assist in planning and preparation.17
As with the first technique, this option has its own disadvantages and
challenges, including:
• This is the less responsive of the two techniques. Designated units
could potentially begin their maneuver from the rear of the area of opera-
tions. With time at a premium, this is a significant concern.

185
 • Units may have to conduct a forward passage of lines through es-
tablished defensive positions. This becomes more complicated when units
must negotiate obstacles placed by units in the defense. As with the above,
this can dramatically impact responsiveness.
• It is feasible that the units used in the transition are not combat tested
in this environment. This can make for a steep learning curve.18
Defense to Offense: FEBA
FEBA PL AMBER
Not in Contact / PL AMBER
Posi�oned Behind
Forward Units

XX X X XX

LD PL BLUE
PL BLUE LD

X
PL CYAN
PL CYAN X
X
X

PL DIRT
PL DIRT
XX

Figure 13.2. Transitioning to the offense while using forces not in contact. Created by
Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe.

After determining the enemy attack has culminated, the commander

of the 52nd Division believes there is an opportunity to transition to the
offense and seize the initiative. The commander believes the best tech-
nique is to utilize forces presently not in contact to initiate the attack. He
has selected this technique because he feels he has the time available to
conduct the movement and forward passage of lines of the 4th Brigade
to attack on the west flank. Additionally, his analysis points toward his
forward brigades not being able to currently conduct an effective attack.
Within the concept of operation, the 4th Brigade conducts the decisive op-
eration. They will execute a forward passage of lines through 1st Brigade
and then counterattack into the flank of enemy forces. The commander has
also given his aviation brigade an on-order mission to attack enemy forces
located along Phase Line Amber. The 2nd and 3rd brigades set the condi-
tions for the attack by executing shaping operations for 4th Brigade. They
have been assigned the tactical task of fix and block respectively.

186
Critical Actions
Whichever technique a division commander selects, there are some
basic actions which apply. To begin with, the division commander must
articulate his intent to his subordinates. He must provide a clear purpose,
key tasks, and end state for the transition. The transition from the defense
to the offense will be a very chaotic time. The commander can ease much
of this confusion with a quick but well-formulated intent.
In conjunction with intent is the necessity for the commander to pro-
vide clear and succinct guidance. This guidance is invaluable in saving
time and alleviating confusion and, because of the criticality of time, is
likely to be much more directive. As discussed in FM 3-0, the commander
must consider and should address the following when conducting offen-
sive tasks: 1) scheme of maneuver; 2) continuous deep operations directed
against key portions of the enemy defense within the area of operations,
electromagnetic spectrum (EMS), cyberspace, or population; 3) recon-
naissance and security tasks conducted forward and to the flanks and rear
of the unit’s main and supporting attacks; 4) decisive operations and main
attacks with shaping operations and supporting actions, such as economy
of force activities and the conduct of various reconnaissance and security,
movement, mobility, and countermobility tasks as required; 5) reserve op-
erations in support of the offense; and 6) sustainment and consolidation of
gains operations necessary to maintain offensive momentum.19
Well-defined and understood graphics are vital in any operation. This
is no different in the transition. Graphics must not only address the future
offensive operations, but additionally the movement of units through the
defense to initiate the offense. This will inevitably include control mea-
sures to facilitate a forward passage of lines, if that operation is required.
Within these graphics, the establishment of the line of departure (LD)
is important. The crossing of the LD by forces serves two purposes. First,
it indicates that forces have now shifted from movement to maneuver. Sec-
ond, it signifies that the transition and the offense have started. Because
of this, terrain must be secured to establish the LD. Depending on the
situation, forces may simply have to conduct movement and maneuver to
secure the LD or they may have to conduct some form of offensive oper-
ation to secure the LD.
As in all operations, it is critical for forces to gain and maintain con-
tact with the enemy. Contact can be achieved and maintained physically,
using technology, or preferably both. Keeping this contact is imperative,
particularly in the early stages of the transition.
187
 As noted earlier, the division commander must utilize all of his war-
fighting functions in the conduct of the transition. It is easy to become
fixated with maneuver forces and perhaps not focus on the role of other
warfighting functions in the transition. In particular, fires (particularly or-
ganic systems) must be positioned forward to support maneuver. Organic
systems are critical since they afford the commander the responsiveness
required in this extremely fluid environment. Additionally, once the deci-
sion is made to transition to the offense, the priorities for engineer support
shift from countermobility and survivability to mobility. Air defense assets
must focus on providing coverage for the elements maneuvering forward.
To set the conditions for success in the transition, logistical planning,
preparation, and ultimately execution are imperative. Obviously, logistical
priorities in the offense differ from those in the defense. Subsequently, if
the division commander selects the first technique, he must ensure units
receive resupply of fuel and ammunition. If not, these units could poten-
tially culminate when they conduct offensive operations. Within the sec-
ond technique, units, especially if they not been in contact, should possess
sufficient fuel and ammunition to permit offensive missions. However,
planning must consider the logistical packages that will support the units
conducting the offense.
A division commander must consider the ways the corps can set the
conditions for the transition. The corps possesses unique assets which can
be extremely beneficial in the execution of the transition. These should be
requested immediately with the rationale on how they will be utilized and
why they are required.
Finally, during the transition to the offense, the division commander
must ensure adjacent units understand that his forces (or portions of his
force) are preparing to transition. Any maneuver forward of the original
defensive positions can be misinterpreted as enemy maneuver if there is
no communication. The result of this can be a tragic fratricide incident.
Additionally, adjacent units can offer flank protection from enemy coun-
terattacks during the friendly maneuver.
From the Offense to the Defense
The transition from the offense to the defense can be every bit as de-
manding as the transition from the defense to the offense. It is especially
challenging because of three factors. To begin with, forces (especially if
they have neared culmination) are often extremely dispersed and disorga-
nized. Thus, it requires precious time as well as excellent mission com-
mand to plan, prepare, and execute the transition. The second factor is
188
that finding terrain from which to defend can be a daunting task as it is
possible the division will occupy ground not conducive to defending. Fi-
nally, there is the human dimension to consider. There are unquestionably
mental and emotional aspects in play when you transition to the defense.
In some units, this can lead to a significant decline in morale and a defeat-
ist mindset. Leaders must be extremely engaged to not let these thoughts
and emotions overtake soldiers.
Techniques to Transition from the Offense to the Defense
When the division commander decides to transition to the defense, he
quickly determines which technique to use to drive execution. The com-
mander normally chooses between two techniques.20 In the first option, the
division commander designates elements from the lead units in the attack
and maneuvers them forward to find some defensible terrain. This could
entail these forces engaging with the enemy to secure key terrain. Within
this area, the division commander emplaces his security area. These forces
focus on the same actions characteristic of forces in any security area.
These include gaining and maintaining contact with the enemy; providing
information on the enemy; delaying, deceiving, or disrupting his forces;
and conducting counter-reconnaissance.21 While the security area is being
established, the preponderance of the force prepares defensive positions
essentially where the attack stalled.
In the second method, the division commander establishes his secu-
rity area essentially on the terrain where the offense halted. They are not
pushed forward as in the aforementioned option. As the security area is es-
tablished, the remainder of the forces then maneuver to the rear to defensi-
ble terrain to begin defensive preparations. The distance of this maneuver
is clearly dependent on finding the right ground to fight from. Finding the
best terrain possible is critical since the forces are likely susceptible to tak-
ing significant losses from an enemy attack based on their current posture.
The advantages include:
• The force as a whole may be poorly postured to conduct any imme-
diate movement. This could have been caused by significant personnel or
vehicle losses or poor maintenance status. Thus, further movement by the
force could negatively impact their ability to conduct any future operations.
• This approach allows more rapid reorganization and consolidation
of forces.
• Because the force is already operating in the terrain, they may pos-
sess a better understanding of how the terrain could support the defense.

189
 The disadvantages include:
• The potential for personnel and equipment losses in establishing the
security area is greater since forces may have to fight the enemy to seize
terrain for the security zone.
• The security area is likely much shallower in depth. Again, because
forces may have to fight for terrain, you do not want to push them out too
far forward.
• Based on the preponderance of the force essentially located in the
same positions, they are more susceptible to accurate enemy artillery.
• Main body forces are likely defending in terrain that is not advanta-
geous to the defense.
• The enemy is better positioned to collect intelligence on defensive
preparation.
• Because forces are closer to the enemy, forces face a greater enemy
artillery threat.
Offense to Defense: Security Pushed Forward / Defense Where Halted

FLOT
FLOT
FEBA
FEBA G G PL BLUE
PL BLUE X
X

X
X

LD PL RED

PL RED LD

Figure 13.3. Transitioning to the defense by pushing security area forward and
defending where halted. Created by Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe.
The 52nd Division has been successful in their attack and achieved ini-
tial objectives. However, the division commander has determined his unit is
near culmination and cannot continue offensive operations. Thus, the 52nd
Division’s commander has decided to transition to the defense. Based on the
current situation, he has chosen to push security forward and defend where
his attack halted. Within the concept of operation, the 4th Stryker Brigade
will maneuver forward and execute the security task of guard along Phase

190
Line Blue. The 1st and 2nd brigades will establish defensive positions near
the area in which the attack culminated. The advantages of utlizing the se-
curity area where halted or finding defensible terrain to the rear include:
• The security area is quickly established, which should aid in main-
taining contact with the enemy and setting the conditions for success for
the main body.
• The security area should contain more depth than the first technique
once the main body forces have conducted movement to more defensible
terrain to the rear.
• Since the security area is essentially already established, the unit
should not have to conduct any combat (risking potential losses) in occu-
pying the terrain.
• This approach should afford better defensible terrain for the force.
• Movement to the rear should place main body forces closer to logis-
tical support.
• The preparation of the defense should be less hindered by enemy
artillery fire.
Disadvantages of this approach include:
• Time available to prepare the defense is impacted as the force finds
terrain to the rear.

PL BLUE
Offense to
Defense: PL BLUE X
X
X
Security
Where
Halted /
Find
Defensible
Terrain FLOT

FLOT X
X
G G

FEBA
LD PL RED
O/O FEBA
PL RED LD

Figure 13.4. Transitioning to the defense by placing security area where the attack
halted and main forces finding defensible terrain to the rear. Created by Lt. Col.
Trent J. Lythgoe.

191
 • Forces could be susceptible to enemy air and artillery as they con-
duct movement to their new defensive positions.
After determining his attack is quickly losing momentum and the unit
is near culmination, the 52nd Division commander has decided to transi-
tion to the defense. Based on the current situation, he has chosen to em-
place his security forces where the attack halted. The unit is assigned the
security task of guard. They will set the conditions for the two maneuver
brigades in the division to conduct their maneuver to the rear. These two
brigades, the 1st and 2nd, will find more defensible terrain to conduct their
defense and immediately begin defensive priorities of work.
Critical Actions
Regardless of which technique the division commander selects, there
are some basic actions which apply to each. Once again the division com-
mander must clearly articulate his intent for the transition. This intent
combined with a succinct commander’s guidance is invaluable in saving
time and alleviating confusion. Within his intent and guidance, the hu-
man dimension of transitioning to the defense must be addressed. Thus,
he should emphasize leadership at all levels must be present and positive
during the transition.
Gaining and maintaining contact with the enemy is imperative in all
operations; this is especially critical in the transition to the defense. The
commander must maintain contact with all available assets, focusing on
redundancy. Again, contact can be obtained by physical means, utilizing
technology, or preferably utilizing both. Related to this is the need to es-
tablish a security area in a timely manner. Many factors will dictate the
depth of the security area.
The commander and his staff must quickly develop a fire support
plan which achieves several things. First, it must focus on supporting any
movement and maneuver tied to initially establishing the security area and
defense. Second, it must be updated once units have occupied defensive
positions so it can augment the direct fire plan. To achieve the above, it is
inevitable that fires assets will require repositioning.
Other warfighting functions must be planned and utilized. This in-
cludes shifting the priorities for engineer assets from mobility (once initial
movement and maneuver is complete) to countermobility and survivabili-
ty. Additionally, air defense assets must be repositioned to protect the unit.
During the transition, forces are extremely vulnerable to enemy air attack.

192
 Logistical priorities change tremendously during the transition. The
focus is to provide units with sufficient resources to prepare and execute
the assigned defensive task. These resources in particular include Class IV
(construction materials) and Class V (ammunition).
The ability to anticipate logistical requirements and subsequently prep-
osition these resources will have a powerful impact. However, this is a sig-
nificant challenge for several reasons. To begin with, the decision to transi-
tion and the subsequent execution can occur very quickly. This leaves little
lead time to preposition resources. Secondly if the main body must defend
essentially in place, it may be too lethal an environment to move forward
any significant amount of Class IV and Class V. If the main body decides
to find defensible terrain to the rear, they likely will not be able to provide
this location until they physically occupy it. Again, there may be no lead
time to preposition any resources. However, these resources can already be
packaged and placed on transportation waiting on a drop-off point.
Finally, as units select defensive positions, they should strive to tie in
to adjacent flank units where possible. During the transition, this will be
extremely challenging if units have little ability to select where they will
defend from.
Conclusion
In summary, the successful execution of a transition in large-scale
combat operations is a true test for a division. Before attempting this
physical component of change, however, the division commander must
determine when change is necessary. This mental component of change
is sparked by a commander clearly knowing himself, the enemy, and the
terrain. In terms of transitioning from the defense to offense, the key is
reading the indicators signifying that the opponent has, or will, culminate
and will then be vulnerable to attack. The division commander must take
advantage of this opportunity or position of relative advantage. Converse-
ly, commanders must know themselves during the conduct of the offense.
If an attack is no longer viable because of various reasons, they must ac-
knowledge this and make the decision to transition to the defense.
Change is inevitable on the battlefield. The ability to conduct a timely
and successful transition enables a commander and a unit to adapt to sig-
nificant change on the battlefield. The consequences of not making these
adjustments can be catastrophic. History has highlighted this time and
time again.

193
 Notes
1. Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, trans. Hill Thompson (New York: Heri-
tage Press, 1954), 55.
2. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-90-1, Offense and De-
fense, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: 2013), 1-42.
3. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 1-18.
4. FM 3-0, 1-18.
5. Department of the Marine Corps, Marine Corps Tactical Publication
(MCTP) 1, Warfighting (Washington, DC: 1977), 48.
6. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. Michael Howard and Peter Paret
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976), 528.
7. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 100-5, Operations (Wash-
ington, DC: 1986), 182.
8. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2016), 2-54.
9. ADRP 3-0, 2-54.
10. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 6-29–6-30. These indicators were
refined and developed from indicators addressed within the field manual.
11. As quoted in Trivia-Library.com, “Origins of Sayings,” accessed 2
March 2018, https://www.trivia-library.com/b/origins-of-sayings-live-to-fight-
another-day.htm.
12. Oliver Goldsmith, The Art of Poetry on a New Plan (1761), vol. ii,
compiled by John Newberry (Oxford, England: Gale Ecco Digital Collection,
2010), 147.
13. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 6-29–6-30. These indicators were
refined and developed from indictors addressed within the field manual.
14. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Mission Command
(Washington, DC: 2014), 14-3.
15. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 6-30.
16. FM 3-90-1, 6-31. These advantages were refined and developed from
doctrine addressed within the field manual.
17. FM 3-90-1, 6-31. These advantages were refined and developed from
doctrine addressed within the field manual.
18. FM 3-90-1, 6-31. These advantages were refined and developed from
doctrine addressed within the field manual.
19. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 7-6.
20. Department of the Army, FM 3-90-1, 1-44.
21. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, glossary–15.

194
 Chapter 14
Living with the Dead: Casualties and Consequences
in Large-Scale Combat Operations
Col. James K. Dunivan

As Prussian war strategist Carl von Clausewitz famously opined, and

nearly every student of military art knows and recites, “War is merely
the continuation of policy by other means.”1 Clausewitz also wrote that
“War is the realm of physical exertion and suffering. These will destroy
us unless we make ourselves indifferent to them.”2 We are less likely to
quote this particular passage but now, more than ever, must acknowledge
and integrate its implications into our understanding of military readiness.
In preparing for war, we have a distinct obligation to ready ourselves
for the worst. This includes acknowledging the inevitable potential for
massive numbers of casualties and unimaginably uncomfortable conse-
quences that can and will likely occur, especially during the high-intensity
chaos of large-scale combat operations. This awareness, acceptance, and
“indifference” will only be acquired through cultural change within the
Army that comes from the proliferation and understanding of doctrine fo-
cused on warfighting, reinforced by education and training, and guided
by the practice of the philosophy of mission command that encourages
resilient action regardless of casualties and unintended consequences. As
an army and a nation, we cannot afford to blindly move forward until faced
with the necessity to react and adapt, but rather must do everything within
our purview now to stand on the right side of history later.
A Historical Perspective
History shows that humans have a tendency to become complacent
and comfortable over time, and military leaders are not immune to this
behavior in our professional lives. Alexis de Tocqueville, the Frenchman
who traveled around the United States in the nineteenth century to exam-
ine the American experiment in democracy, likely encountered this ten-
dency to ignore historical precedent. He captured this observation as he
wrote, “As the past has ceased to throw its light upon the future, the mind
of man wanders in obscurity.”3 While many Army officers appreciate the
value of military history, it is important to emphasize an understanding of
past wars and battles in the context of how these events occurred with an
eye toward integrating that knowledge into the execution of current and
future endeavors. Understanding and action of this sort could very well
195
be the lamp that provides just enough visibility to guide us through the
shadows and keep us from meandering and stumbling over avoidable and
costly pitfalls.
This realization was reinforced recently during a staff ride to the Battle
of the Bulge battlefields. Several US Army Command and General Staff
Officers Course (CGSOC) faculty members and students, accompanied
by German students from the Führungsakadamie der Bundeswehr (Ger-
man CGSOC equivalent) for an additional perspective, traced the attack of
Kampfgrüppe Peiper through Germany and Belgium.

Figure 14.1. Route of attack by Kampfgrüppe Peiper. From “A314 Battle of the Bulge
Staff Ride Guide,” 4th ed., 2017.

This trek throughout the hills and valleys of the Ardennes Forest in-
cluded an analysis of the US defense of Bastogne. One of the primary
observations of these engagements was an appreciation for the enormous
number of wounded and loss of life suffered by both armies as well as the
civilian population during a relatively short period of intense fighting.
In December 1944, this area of the Ardennes was known as the “Ghost
Front.” In this location, Americans and Germans observed each other and
registered their artillery, but generally refrained from aggressive fighting
along the eighty-five-mile front. This artificial tranquility was one factor
that prompted Adolph Hitler to choose this location as the main axis of ad-
vance for Operation Christrose, also known as “Watch on the Rhine.” The
purpose of this counteroffensive was to break through the Allied lines and
seize the port of Antwerp.4 Despite the fact that his forces had been driven
back to the German frontier after D-Day, Hitler believed his forces in late
1944 could still achieve a decisive battlefield victory that would allow him
to divide the Allies and win the war, or at least allow him to end the war
on his own terms.5
The Allies, enjoying recent success against German forces and fo-
cused on the friction and conduct of their own operations, misjudged the
indicators and warnings of the German attack through the Ardennes. Hitler
managed to achieve tactical and strategic surprise with a stunning show
of force on 16 December 1944, driving the Americans back and creating

196
a bulging salient that would become the battle’s namesake. The US divi-
sions standing in the way of the German attack, mostly manned by inex-
perienced soldiers or those weakened from previous fighting, were spread
thin across the wide front of the densely forested terrain. The weather also
favored the attacker by obscuring the battlefield with heavy fog and dense
cloud cover, which negated the US advantage in air power.6 Under these
conditions, a less resilient and determined force would have melted away
but the American soldier fought bravely to stem the onslaught of battle.
By the battle’s end, the Allies had committed twenty-nine divisions,
six mechanized cavalry groups, and the equivalent of three separate regi-
ments—a total of 600,000 soldiers—to the effort to stem the German of-
fensive. These forces fought to maintain the line and eventually mount a
counterattack that rebalanced the front and re-initiated the Allied drive
into the German heartland.7 Beyond those vast and impersonal numbers of
participating units, however, was the sheer scope of humanity that would
die or suffer to pay the price for victory. In addition to the 15,000 men
captured by the enemy, “the Battle of the Bulge cost the Army 470 soldiers
per day, for a total loss of 19,270 killed and 62,489 wounded over for-
ty-one days of sustained combat.”8 The German Army suffered too, with
at least 100,000 soldiers killed, wounded, and captured over the course of
the battle.9
In the current world characterized by a persistent news cycle, “info-
tainment,” the hubris of social media, and prolific public opinion, could the
American people stomach that kind of fight and loss of human life today?
Would our soldiers and leaders step forward to lead and inspire as those
around them perished, or would risk aversion and fear of ambiguity and
consequences stifle our ability to overcome and win? The answers to both
questions should be a foregone conclusion: the men and women of today
will do whatever is required—to include giving their lives—to achieve
victory against seemingly insurmountable odds. Still, we as an army and
a nation cannot leave it up to chance or choice. The cultural change to
set conditions for future success and affirm that conclusion must begin
now with our understanding and proliferation of doctrine, education, and
training, as well as the practice of the philosophy of mission command in
anticipation of the likelihood of massive amounts of casualties and unin-
tended consequences.
Military Doctrine: Shape and Influence
Recent events and America’s 2017 National Security Strategy demand
nothing less than preparedness and vigilance for such possibilities. Those

197
who believe mass carnage on the battlefield is a thing of the past need
look no further than the summer of 2014. During that time, Russian rock-
ets and artillery rained down upon mechanized brigades of the Ukrainian
Army as they deployed along their border for an ostensibly routine and
mundane mission in anti-trafficking and terrain denial. These elements of
the Ukrainian military suffered staggering losses in a matter of minutes
as entire battalions were destroyed or rendered combat ineffective.10 Ac-
cordingly, armed with the knowledge that our potential adversaries had
the capability to inflict such devastation on Americans and our allies, the
National Security Strategy rightly tasked the Department of Defense to
“develop new operational concepts and capabilities to win without assured
dominance” across multiple domains and against any threat.11 The same
document advocates for the Army, as a component of the Joint force, to
demonstrate “US resolve and commitment” by providing the capability
and capacity “to fight and win across any plausible conflict that threatens
US vital interests.”12
One of the first steps for reinforcing our understanding of this direc-
tive was the 2017 publication of Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations. This
manual serves as the foundation of the US Army’s doctrine, and its publi-
cation instituted a cultural shift to large-scale combat operations, and the
potential for mass casualties. There is precedent for our doctrine to lead
change of this magnitude. In Deciding What Has to Be Done: General
William E. DePuy and the 1976 Edition of FM 100-5, Operations, Maj.
Paul Herbert discusses the genesis of that field manual (the predecessor
to FM 3-0) and shows how doctrine consistently mirrors the time and cir-
cumstances for which it is written. It also reminds us of the role of history
in doctrine development and how we intend to move forward as “memo-
ries of the past, conditions of the present, and images of the future are all
inherent to the intellectual process of formulating doctrine.”13
In a similar vein, the 2017 publication of FM 3-0 compels us to expand
our paradigms of thinking to ensure combat readiness, change the Army’s
culture, and anticipate and plan for the worst things that could happen to
our force on any battlefield. In presenting this new doctrine to the force,
the Combined Arms Center commander and the director of the Combined
Arms Doctrine Directorate were very deliberate in articulating why a new
operations manual was imperative for changing the Army’s culture:
The focus on regularly scheduled deployments of brigade combat
teams, higher echelon headquarters, and supporting formations to
conduct COIN [counterinsurgency] from static bases against en-
emies with limited military capabilities created a view of ground
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 combat incongruent with the realities of fighting large-scale com-
bat against a peer threat. . . . Since 2003, seldom have units larger
than a platoon been at risk of destruction by enemy forces, and
no units faced enemy forces able to mass fires or maneuver large-
scale forces effectively.14
Their words are a harbinger of what could come to pass and serve as a
plea to cease preparing for business as usual or for fighting the proverbial
“last war.”
The current version of FM 3-0 makes it very clear that combat in the
next war will not be anything like what the US Army experienced during
the Global War on Terror. Contemporary large-scale combat operations
almost certainly will be against a capable peer or near-peer enemy that will
be “much more demanding in terms of operational tempo and lethality.”15
This enemy will attempt to overwhelm our capability and capacity to fight
through “systemic and continual attacks in multiple domains and the in-
formation environment before and during combat operations.”16 Perhaps
more relevant to achieving strategic aims and objectives, our future ene-
mies will most certainly attempt to use our ethical emphasis on the value
of human life against us by coupling American casualties with the employ-
ment of “weapons of mass production” on video. In carefully constructed
and choreographed narrative, the enemy will beam cinema-quality footage
of battlefield carnage onto the smart phones and media streaming devic-
es of every American citizen and denizen of the global world to “exploit
friendly sensitivity to world opinion and attempt to exploit American do-
mestic opinion and sensitivity to friendly casualties” because they can and
because it makes sense to utilize every advantage in warfare.17
Based on their own observations and lessons learned since the Viet-
nam War, our potential enemies perceive this aversion to casualties to be a
weakness. They rightfully deduce such tactics would allow them to main-
tain the initiative and enjoy “a comparative advantage because of their
willingness to endure greater hardship, casualties, and negative public
opinion.”18 This phenomenon was eloquently stated by former Secretary
of Defense Caspar Weinberger during a speech to the National Press Club
nearly thirty-five years ago when he put forth that our enemies, which
were and continue to be largely unconstrained by public opinion in their
own countries, “realize that if they can divide our national will at home,
it will not be necessary to defeat our forces abroad.”19 It was during this
same speech that Weinberger articulated six tests to be applied to deter-
mine if US combat forces should be deployed abroad. This included the
commitment of forces only in those situations “deemed vital to our nation-
199
al interest or that of our allies” and when there was “reasonable assurance
we will have the support of the American people.”20
These ideas, which were initially labeled the Weinberger Doctrine and
later the Powell Doctrine after Operation Desert Storm, all have echoes of
“no more Vietnams” and a reluctance to send our sons and daughters into
harm’s way unless absolutely necessary.21 While this constitutes a solid—
though easily ignored—policy, it also underpins the need for legitimacy
and the ethical conduct of war within the theoretical framework of the
“Just War” theory. “When a war is perceived as just, its aims are seen
as achievable and progress is being made toward achieving those aims,
the casualties resulting from that war are viewed as worth the cost and
the war is viewed as legitimate.”22 Assuming that diplomacy fails and the
United States is forced to conduct large-scale combat operations on a fu-
ture battlefield, the 2017 version of our Operations doctrine will directly
contribute to fostering the cultural change necessary within the US Army
to accept the potential reality of vast casualties and consequences.
Training and Education: Proliferate, Repeat, and Perfect
FM 3-0, which thoughtfully and precisely addresses the reality and
readiness imperatives of large-scale combat operations, will serve as
both a warning blinker and a head lamp to illuminate the need for ad-
dressing casualties and consequences within Army training and educa-
tion programs. A continued emphasis on tough, realistic training within
the operational force—in tandem with the integration and immersion of
effective and relevant courseware into the Army’s professional military
education—greatly enables our doctrine to satisfy its mandate to “instill
confidence throughout any army” and “have the most profound effect on
its performance in war.”23 The ability to perform successfully in war will
be a dividend of countless hours devoted to leader, soldier, and unit train-
ing building upon professional military education opportunities and the
curricula of all cohorts. This is certainly not a new concept, as the Army
has been training and educating our force for years to prepare for combat.
What is essential to understand and assimilate now, however, is the out-
look clearly articulated by Army Chief of Staff, Gen. Mark Milley, and his
warning that the next war “will be all but unrecognizable to the veterans
of the current wars.”24
Those who have served in uniform and deployed over the last fifteen
years can understand General Milley’s point. We fly into theater and con-
duct operations from established forward operating bases or combat out-
posts, often secured by contracted foreign nationals. We enjoy our meals,

200
with the myriad of menu options served in the dining facilities or the vari-
ety of “chain” restaurants that remind us of home. We have amenities such
as gyms, wireless internet, hot showers, and laundry service. The intent
in highlighting these comforts is not to take away from anyone’s contri-
bution and service to the nation, as we all did what our country asked us
to do in the manner we were resourced to make it happen. It is important
to underscore, however, that our current wars are not the kind of conflicts
like our predecessors endured, either in Belgium in the winter of 1944 or
on myriad other World War II battlefields. More importantly, current op-
erations in Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, and elsewhere have little in common

Figure 14.2. Bodies of US officers and soldiers slain by the Nazis after capture near
Malmedy, Belgium, 11 December 1944. Courtesy of the National Archives and
Records Administration.

201
with the large-scale combat operations of the future. Understanding that
point means acknowledging the likelihood of multitudes of dead, wound-
ed, captured, and missing soldiers. In his address to the force, General Mil-
ley made this point sharper: “Think Iwo Jima, not the boardwalk stores at
Kandahar airfield. Be prepared for thousands, not dozens, of casualties.”25
The idea of thousands of casualties during a military battle is jarring
and nearly inconceivable, so the Army and the nation must prepare them-
selves in advance. The new mindset must go beyond the collective expe-
rience and general routine of the past several years where we planned and
trained for the immediate evacuation of casualties, utilizing the 9-Line
MEDEVAC request or driving the quickest route to the combat army
surgical hospital. We exercised the “duty status-whereabouts unknown”
(DUSTWUN) battle drill to be ready for a personnel recovery contingen-
cy. We conducted the “mock” memorial service with the dreaded anticipa-
tion of having to do the ceremony again in theater—which, unfortunately,
always seems to happen.
At every memorial service, we honor our fallen comrade and whisper
a silent prayer that this service will be the last, knowing it is not a likely
or realistic request. As the wars continue, so do the services. We pause to
remember and honor our fallen comrades, but this ritual benefits the living
as well, as we reach out to those in the unit who must go on after their
brother and sister in arms has paid the ultimate price. We make mental
health professionals, counselors, and chaplains available to talk to our sol-
diers in groups and as individuals. We pull affected units off of patrol and
allow them time to grieve, refit, and collectively process what happened
before we put them back on mission. As fitting and proper as these rituals
may be to support and care for those who have lost a friend, a teammate,
and a brother or sister in the communal unit family, it could also very well
be a luxury the force cannot expect or afford on the modern battlefield
during large-scale combat operations. The attribute of resiliency will be
the essential currency the Army requires.
Training and education is critical to establish the resiliency needed
within the force to enable success in combat against our potential enemies.
The Army has been addressing the lethality of large-scale combat opera-
tions for several years in an effort to get back to training the full range of
requirements for unified land operations. In particular, our combat training
centers (CTCs) continue to push our leaders and units to the next level
in fully preparing the force for over-the-horizon combat within multiple
domains. In conjunction with valuable rotations to the CTCs, numerous

202
initiatives are underway to improve home-station training and our over-
arching ability to accomplish the fundamental task of readiness “to win
in the unforgiving crucible of ground combat.”26 The Army continues to
“re-learn” field craft and critical combat skills. Slowly and deliberately,
soldiers and units are manipulating the muscle memory developed over
years of counterinsurgency to address large-scale combat operations.
The Russo-Ukrainian War engagement noted above, in which the high
number of casualties exceeded the capability of both military and civilian
medical establishments to provide life-saving care, clearly demonstrates
the need for this type of training and a broader understanding of the le-
thality of large-scale combat operations.27 The new FM 3-0 highlights this
possibility for future contingencies as well, noting that “large-scale com-
bat operations place an incredible burden on medical resources due to the
magnitude and lethality of the forces involved.”28 However, it is one thing
to acknowledge the lethality of large-scale combat operations and train for
mass casualty contingencies and another to prepare, mentally and concep-
tually, to actually address such an event. Many of us have experienced the
devastating loss of soldiers in combat, be it one or four sets of dog-tags on
display at a memorial service. The thought of evacuating, burying, or not
being able to account for ANY soldier, much less ALL of those in the unit,
is beyond comprehension; and yet it is exactly that darkest hour of ambigu-
ity and catastrophe for which leaders must be prepared to plan, persevere,
and persist to accomplish the mission in large-scale combat operations.
In his book Defeat into Victory, Field Marshal William Slim shared a
personal sentiment from his World War II experience in Burma to which
many who have endured great loss in combat can likely relate. Slim wrote:
“In a dark hour he will turn in upon himself and question the very founda-
tions of his leadership and his manhood.”29 For present-day leaders staring
at the possibility of future large-scale combat operations, Slim’s thought
is worthy of deep consideration. How does one reconcile force protec-
tion and preserving the lives of our most precious national resource with
committing and potentially losing those lives to accomplish the mission
in war? There is no easy way to answer this question, no silver bullet to
eradicate the dilemma. One worthy response is the Army’s ongoing em-
phasis on readiness. In amplifying his focus on this theme, General Milley
has made it very clear that the Army’s number one priority is “our soldiers
and our solemn commitment . . . to never send them into harm’s way un-
trained, poorly led, undermanned, or with less than the best equipment we
can provide.”30

203
The Philosophy of Mission Command: Sustain and Maintain
Beyond manning, equipping, training, and educating, though, is
a broader necessity to advance the philosophy and practice of mission
command. It is only through the inculcation of mission command that
the Army will acquire the reality and transparency needed for irreversible
cultural change that instills the fortitude to carry on in the face of great
casualties and consequences if and when that time occurs. The use of mis-
sion command enables “disciplined initiative,” which encourages flexibil-
ity and decision making at the lowest levels. However, mission command
depends upon competent leaders focused on team-building with a “com-
mitment to develop subordinates, the courage to trust, the confidence to
delegate, the patience to overcome adversity, and the restraint to allow
lower echelons to develop the situation.”31 Guided by mission command
principles, these indicators are inherent in the duty of commanders in the
field to “balance the tension between protecting the force and accepting
risks in order to achieve military objectives” during large-scale combat
operations.32 It is here, within this complex choreography of risk manage-
ment and decision-making that we emphasize reality and transparency to
minimize the effect of casualties and consequences upon the morale and
capability of the force.
The reality of the nature of large-scale combat operations, as outlined
in our doctrine and evidenced by history, is that maneuver forces will lose
a significant amount of combat power during lethal engagements and the
otherwise routine events of war. Dead, wounded, missing, captured, and
perhaps even deserting soldiers have always been an unfortunate conse-
quence of combat. Accordingly, any belief that it will not happen again is
fallacious thinking and outright denial. With an all-volunteer force, those
who follow the path of military service are or should be very aware of the
possibility of death. In his book Just War Reconsidered, Lt. Gen. (Retired)
James Dubik stated:
Citizens-who-become-soldiers understand that their lives change
once they become soldiers. Soldiers become instruments, but not
mere instruments. They can be killed in war justifiably; they are
expected to risk their lives on behalf of the innocent, their fellow
soldiers, and their political community.33
That possibility resembles reality even more when soldiers and leaders are
exposed to realistic scenarios through training and education of the force.
Division-level exercises at the US Army Command and General Staff
College integrate current doctrine and threat models into the curriculum.
204
During this planning and simulation of large-scale combat operations, stu-
dent officers discover through analysis that engagements against a peer
competitor can very well produce dead and wounded on a scale not seen by
American forces in combat since the Battle of the Bulge. The old adage is
as true today as it ever was in declaring that “the enemy gets a vote.” That
vote includes “the reality that the US Army does not enjoy overwhelming
advantages against every opponent it may be required to fight” and the ex-
pectation “that some adversaries have equal, or even superior capabilities
that may put Army forces at a position of relative disadvantage.”34
It is this reality, the possibility that our Army can be encumbered by
disadvantage, that leads to the imperative of transparency within the force.
We need this level of transparency to allow complete communication and
open discourse about the reality of our position, which keeps our soldiers
informed and enables them to use their initiative to act accordingly as
our very best weapon system. Our soldiers, after all, are our true position
of relative advantage. The new Operations manual defines a position of
relative advantage as a “location or the establishment of a favorable con-
dition” that allows “freedom of action to enhance combat power over an
enemy.”35 Among the obvious examples such as synchronizing the ele-
ments of combat power and warfighting function overmatch, “legitimacy
and popular perception, moral (just and unjust), and will (including doing
what must be done, continuing as long as it takes, and maintaining support
from domestic leaders)” are provided as additional considerations for en-
abling positional advantage in combat operations.36
It therefore follows that soldiers will fight, remain resilient, and do
everything within their power to win if they understand the full context of
why they are fighting and know that their sacrifice, whatever that should
become, is not in vain. No soldier, or anyone for that matter, will willing-
ly risk their life “without hope of achieving something that would give
their sacrifices meaning.”37 Part of the transparency required to instill this
resiliency begins at the highest levels of leadership, in both politics and
the military. It is here that those choosing to begin and conduct war under-
stand that they also have an obligation to do everything within their power
to ensure that “lives—not only of the innocent but also of the soldiers they
employ—are respected, not squandered.”38 Nested below the level of na-
tional policy and strategy, leaders in tactical units have an obligation to be
as forthright as possible in the planning, preparation, and execution of the
tasks and missions necessary to conduct war.
This is accomplished by commanders at all echelons who “seek to
understand, balance, and take risks,” and thereby exercise the philosophy
205
of mission command during large-scale combat operations, to “create op-
portunities to seize, retain, and exploit the initiative and achieve decisive
results.”39 Commanders who model this philosophy will inspire and mo-
tivate their subordinate leaders and soldiers to emulate that philosophy,
which will likely be the deciding factor in whether or not the United States
wins in the face of great adversity. Similar to the American soldiers of the
past, today’s soldiers who are aware and empowered will rise up to meet
the enemy when they must. Success in this endeavor will require today’s
leaders to emulate leaders of the past like Lt. Lyle Bouck, who in 1944
stood on a ridge near Lanzerath, Belgium, and saw the indicators of an
imminent German attack. Denied the artillery support he requested and
despite requests by some to withdraw, he valiantly ordered his men to
hold their position and get ready to fight. Bouck’s platoon repelled attack
after attack throughout the day, delaying the German advance and forcing
them to consume time and fuel they could not afford to lose. Bouck’s unit
fought until finally, wounded and nearly out of ammunition, they were
captured.40 During the Battle of the Bulge, countless actions such as this—
by officers, noncommissioned officers, and soldiers alike—bought enough
time to challenge the will of the German Army and enable the Americans
to seize the initiative.
The Price of Failure
As resilient and courageous as the US Army proved to be in 1944,
however, there were no foregone conclusions. Earlier that year, the Ger-
man Army had endured setbacks and defeat along both the Eastern and
Western fronts. Despite the very real challenges the Germans faced, they
continued an orderly withdrawal to defend their homeland while launch-
ing an offensive in the Ardennes.41 As described in A Time for Trumpets:
The German soldier in the Ardennes amazed his adversary. Short
of transport, short of gasoline, short of artillery because of the
lack of transport and gasoline, his nation on the brink of defeat, he
nevertheless fought with such courage and determination that the
American saw him as fanatic. What motivated him to such ends?
. . . Whatever his motivation, he performed with heroism and sac-
rifice, marred only by the excesses of a few.42
One could also ask the American soldiers, the ultimate victors of this bat-
tle as well as the war, what motivated them. Beyond the likely answer of
fighting for each other, it could be expected that some would offer that
the cause was just, liberty was worth fighting and if necessary dying for,

206
and they had the means, know-how, and authority to fight and win. Their
comfort with ambiguity and willingness to take action in the face of over-
whelming lethality was necessary then, just as it will be a requirement in
future large-scale combat operations if we are to successfully exploit posi-
tions of advantage to enable winning on our darkest of days.
It is those dark days that we must anticipate now, in the light of the
present with the benefit of our past experience. We acknowledge this with
our eyes wide open in pursuit of readiness, echoing the belief that “rigor-
ous study of the past is as important to articulating a credible doctrine as
is the forecasting of future trends and threats.”43 Nowhere was this more
obvious than to the previously mentioned CGSOC students standing in
the snow of the Ardennes discussing the Battle of the Bulge in December
2017. Fortunately, they were blessed with the opportunity for this insight
through a staff ride rather than figuring it out in the chaos of ground com-
bat. For the rest of the Army, we must accept that we are saddled with the
very real possibility that we once again live in the shadow of past wars
where unthinkable casualties and consequences of large-scale combat op-
erations can return to become the new normal.

Figure 14.3. Student officers discuss operations on the ground during the December
2017 Battle of the Bulge staff ride near Bullingen, Belgium. Courtesy of Brian
Leakey Collection.

207
 Unfortunately, despite our distaste for the “horror of war” and desire
for its complete abolition, it is nearly a foregone conclusion that “for the
foreseeable future, war looks likely to remain with us and the use of force
to continue to be necessary to constrain the actions and ambitions of evil
men.”44 It will not be an easy task, nor one that we can or should accept
blindly. We continue to dedicate ourselves to the priority of readiness, do-
ing everything within our control to train and educate our sons and daugh-
ters to “fight tonight” and win, while providing every possible advantage
that enables them to finish the task and return home.
In doing so, however, we have an equal obligation to prepare for the
worst, to maintain and perfect a stance that allows us to both parry and ab-
sorb a punch from the enemy and remain on our feet to continue the fight.
This stance will only be acquired through cultural change within the Army
that comes from the proliferation and understanding of doctrine focused
on warfighting, reinforced by education and training, and guided by the
practice of the mission command philosophy that encourages resilient ac-
tion regardless of casualties and unintended consequences. What we gain
could very well be unmeasurable, but we have everything to lose.

208
 Notes
1. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. Michael Howard and Peter Paret
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 87.
2. Clausewitz, 101.
3. Alexis De Tocqueville, Democracy in America, ed. Richard D. Heffner
(New York: Penguin Group, 2001), 314.
4. George Forty, Patton’s Third Army at War (London: Arms and Armour
Press, 1992), 126.
5. Robert A. Doughty et al., Warfare in the Western World: Military Opera-
tions since 1871, vol. 2 (Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath and Company, 1996), 799.
6. Doughty, 799–800.
7. Charles B. MacDonald, A Time for Trumpets: The Untold Story of the
Battle of the Bulge (New York: Harper Collins, 2002), 618.
8. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton, DC: 2017), 1-2.
9. MacDonald, A Time for Trumpets, 618.
10. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-3.
11. Donald J. Trump, “National Security Strategy of the United States of
America,” 18 December 2017, 29.
12. Trump, 28.
13. Maj. Paul H. Herbert, Deciding What Has to Be Done: General William
E. DePuy and the 1976 Edition of FM 100-5, Operations (Fort Leavenworth,
KS; Combat Studies Institute Press, 1988), 102.
14. Lt. Gen. Mike Lundy and Col. Rich Creed, “The Return of U.S. Army
Field Manual 3-0, Operations,” Military Review 97, no. 6 (November–Decem-
ber 2017): 15.
15. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-3.
16. FM 3-0, 5-5.
17. FM 3-0, 1-9.
18. FM 3-0, 1-9.
19. Caspar W. Weinberger, “The Uses of Military Power” (remarks, Nation-
al Press Club, Washington, DC, 28 November 1984), 4, https://www.pbs.org/
wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/military/force/weinberger.html.
20. Weinberger, 5.
21. Walter LaFeber, “The Rise and Fall of Colin Powell and the Powell
Doctrine,” Political Science Quarterly 124, no. 1 (Spring 2009): 73–76. The
Powell Doctrine added a seventh point—the need for an exit strategy—to the
previously accepted Weinberger Doctrine.
22. James M. Dubik, Just War Reconsidered: Strategy, Ethics, and Theory
(Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 2016), 155.
23. Herbert, Deciding What Has to Be Done, 3.
24. David Barno and Nora Bensahel, “Three Things the Army Chief of Staff
Wants You to Know,” War on the Rocks (23 May 2017), https://warontherocks.
com/2017/05/three-things-the-army-chief-of-staff-wants-you-to-know.

209
 25. Barno and Bensahel.
26. Gen. Mark Milley, “39th Chief of Staff of the Army Initial Message
to the Army,” Army News (1 September 2015), https://www.army.mil/arti-
cle/154803/39th_Chief_of_Staff_Initial_Message_to_the_Army.
27. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-3.
28. FM 3-0, 2-49.
29. Viscount William J. Slim, Defeat into Victory (London: Macmillan
Publishers, 1987), 121.
30. Milley, “39th Chief of Staff of the Army Initial Message to the Army.”
31. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
6-22, Army Leadership (Washington, DC: 2012), 1-3.
32. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, B-1.
33. Dubik, Just War Reconsidered, 51.
34. Lundy and Creed, “The Return of U.S. Army Field Manual 3-0,” 16.
35. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, 1-18.
36. FM 3-0, 1-18–1-19.
37. Dubik, Just War Reconsidered, 99.
38. Dubik, 50.
39. Department of the Army, FM 3-0, B-1.
40. MacDonald, A Time for Trumpets, 177–79.
41. Doughty, Warfare in the Western World, 798.
42. MacDonald, A Time for Trumpets, 618.
43. Herbert, Deciding What Has to Be Done, 107.
44. David Fisher, Morality and War: Can War Be Just in the Twenty-First
Century? (London: Oxford University Press, 2011), 258.

210
 Chapter 15
Controlling Chaos: Mission Command
in Large-Scale Combat Operations
Lt. Col. Trent J. Lythgoe

This chapter is about commanding divisions and corps in large-scale

combat operations. Its purpose is to help commanders and staff officers
think about how to command and control these formations in combat
against capable near-peer competitors. While the Army’s mission com-
mand philosophy emphasizes decentralization and initiative, large-scale
combat operations require synchronization. Tactical commanders must
coordinate operations while simultaneously preserving the ability of sub-
ordinates to exercise disciplined initiative. To accomplish this, command-
ers must integrate mission command and detailed command into a unified
command system.
The three historical case studies that follow are examples of how suc-
cessful division and corps commanders maneuvered large formations in
large-scale combat by resolving tension between mission command and
detailed command. The observations and conclusions drawn from these
cases will assist commanders and staff officers as they prepare for large-
scale combat operations.
Command and Control Then and Now
Command is as old as war itself. Commanders have authority to give
purpose and direction to their soldiers, and they lead their forces toward a
common objective. The nature of command remains unchanged, but over
time, the methods of exercising command have changed considerably. For
thousands of years, commanders personally led their formations from the
front. Once in battle, these early commanders did little beyond inspiring
their troops by personal example. Even so, inspiration was enough. Armies
were small enough that commanders could observe their entire force.
Weapons and tactics were simple enough that commanders performed few
additional functions beyond leading.1
Near the end of the eighteenth century, the methods of command be-
gan to change. As armies grew larger and more complex, commanders
had to organize smaller echelons and appoint subordinates to lead them.
The role of senior commanders changed from combatants to orchestrators.
Frederick the Great was one of the first to embrace this approach.2 This
new paradigm challenged commanders in two ways. First, they had to
211
ensure that subordinate formations worked in a coordinated way toward
overall objectives. Second, commanders had to create communications to
disseminate guidance and plans to subordinates and monitor the progress
of the battle.3
To address these problems, commanders developed command sys-
tems. According to respected military historian Martin L. van Creveld,
command systems are more than just technology; they include the orga-
nizations, procedures, and technologies that commanders use to direct
forces in battle.4 The structures of these command systems are largely de-
termined by a commander’s philosophy of command. As armies grew in
size and complexity at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nine-
teenth centuries, two command philosophies emerged—centralized and
decentralized—which remain with us today. Modern US Army doctrine
describes a centralized philosophy as detailed command and a decentral-
ized philosophy as mission command.5
Commanders exercising detailed command develop meticulous plans
and reserve the most important decisions for themselves. They expect
subordinates to obey orders, follow the plan, and seek permission before
deviating. An advantage of detailed command is the ease of maintaining
unity of effort and coordination. Another advantage is that senior com-
manders—who presumably have more experience, a broader perspective,
and better judgment—make most decisions. The disadvantage of detailed
command is slow decision-making. Senior commanders must visualize
and understand distant events before making decisions. Building this un-
derstanding takes time, and in a fast-moving battle, delayed decisions may
happen too late to be effective.
An alternative is mission command. In this philosophy, command-
ers develop general rather than detailed plans (also called mission-type
orders), and they allow subordinates the freedom to make decisions and
exercise initiative. Commanders shape subordinate decision-making by
providing commander’s intent, and by ensuring a shared understanding
of the mission exits at all echelons. The primary advantage of mission
command is that it supports rapid decision-making. Since subordinates
are personally observing the fight, they have better situational awareness
of local conditions. They can make decisions quickly and are empowered
to do so. The disadvantage is that subordinate commanders may make de-
cisions which disrupt the unity and coordination of the higher command.
Although junior commanders may have good judgment, they often lack
the experience and perspective to understand how their decisions affect
the larger operation.
212
 The Army’s mission command philosophy is clearly biased toward de-
centralization. But effective command has historically not been as easy as
merely decentralizing as much as possible. During the Second Arab-Israeli
War (1956), Israeli ground forces were so decentralized that individual
brigades operated almost independently of each other. Although ultimate-
ly successful, the campaign was plagued by disorganization, lack of mu-
tual support, and fratricide. The Israelis tightened control, and as a result
their next major campaign (1967) was one of the most decisive victories in
modern warfare.6 Even so, increased centralization is not always the right
approach, for centralized control has likewise been more or less successful
in different circumstances. Frederick the Great used a highly centralized
command system and achieved generally satisfactory and sometimes su-
perb results.7 In contrast, the British Fourth Army used a centralized ap-
proach at the Somme (1916), and the outcome was a well-organized and
tightly coordinated bloodbath. British forces suffered more than 430,000
casualties in what became the bloodiest battle in the history of the Brit-
ish Army.8 Throughout history, commanders have employed a variety of
command systems with varying results. The success of a given command
system, as it turns out, depends greatly on the operational context. The
same command system might function superbly in one setting, while ut-
terly failing in another.9
The Army’s current command system, encapsulated in Army Doctrine
Publication (ADP) 6-0, Mission Command (2012), emerged in the con-
text of counterinsurgency and stability operations in Iraq and Afghanistan.
These operations demanded decentralization and, moreover, rarely re-
quired synchronization at division and corps echelons. Much has changed
since 2012 when the Army introduced Mission Command. For this reason,
it is appropriate to reexamine mission command in light of the changed
context—large-scale combat operations—posited by Field Manual (FM)
3-0, Operations (2017).10
Large-scale combat operations differ from counterinsurgency and
stability operations in three principal ways. First, adversaries can mass
fires and maneuver large formations. Second, adversaries have capabili-
ties which equal or exceed those of the US Army and coalition partners.
Third, synchronization at higher tactical echelons is essential to coordinate
large formations and conduct operations in depth—temporal and spatial.11
Under these circumstances, a command system based exclusively on de-
centralization is unlikely to be effective. To succeed in large-scale combat
operations, the Army must adapt its command philosophy and systems to
address the unique nature of these operations.
213
 Fortunately, these challenges are neither new nor unprecedented. Di-
visions and corps have fought and won under similar conditions. Three of
these cases are presented here. They are XIX Panzer Corps at the Battle
of Sedan (1940), Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) Southern Command in the
Sinai (1967), and US VII Corps in Operation Desert Storm (1991). These
cases will show how division and corps commanders planned, the com-
mand systems they used, and how they blended control and coordination
with decentralization and initiative. At the conclusion, common threads
are identified which will help current and future commanders adapt their
command systems to the demands of large-scale combat operations.
XIX Panzer Corps at the Battle of Sedan, France 1940
The German campaigns of 1939–41 have influenced American mili-
tary thought like few others. The Army explicitly traces the roots of mis-
sion command doctrine to the German concept of Auftragstaktik—mis-
sion-type tactics.12 The Germans were the first to put into practice modern
maneuver warfare by successfully combining mechanized forces with a
doctrine designed to achieve surprise and mass at decisive points. Ger-
man tactics shattered local defenses and allowed mechanized forces to
exploit the resulting penetrations to operational depths. These deep ar-
mored thrusts encircled and dislocated large enemy formations, resulting
in a series of stunningly fast and overwhelming victories in the early years
of World War II.
On 13 May 1940, Lt. Gen. Heinz Guderian, one of the principal ar-
chitects of German mechanized warfare, prepared to lead his XIX Panzer
Corps across the Meuse River in northeastern France. The Allied soldiers
easily outnumbered their German opposition—3.7 million versus 2.7 mil-
lion. The Allies also had more tanks—3,254 compared to 2,574 for Germa-
ny—and a three-to-one advantage in artillery. The Germans, however, had
developed a bold campaign plan which they hoped would offset the Allies’
numerical advantages. The Allies expected the Germans’ main attack to
sweep through the Low Countries in a massive envelopment. Instead, the
main attack would occur farther south—through the rough terrain of the
Ardennes. Local defenses were weak there because French commanders
considered the Ardennes unsuitable for mechanized movement.13
Guderian’s XIX Panzer Corps, consisting of 1st, 2nd, and 10th Pan-
zer divisions, spearheaded the attack. Guderian began moving through the
Ardennes on 10 May and met light opposition from the Belgian Ardennes
Division and the French 5th Light Cavalry Division. The former consisted
of light and motorcycle infantry and the latter of horse and mechanized

214
cavalry; neither was a match for Guderian’s panzers. By the evening of 12
May, 1st and 10th Panzer had reached the Meuse, while 2nd Panzer was
still making its way forward. Across the Meuse, Guderian now faced the
French X Corps, Lt. Gen. Pierre-Paul-Charles Grandsard commanding.
Defending near Guderian’s planned crossing sites was the French 55th
Infantry Division, a second-tier reservist unit commanded by Brig. Gen.
Pierre Lafontaine.14
That night, the panzergruppe commander, Gen. Ewald von Kleist, or-
dered Guderian to cross the Meuse at 1600 the next day. Although Gude-
rian was concerned that 2nd Panzer would still be moving up, he never-
theless realized that striking quickly, even with a weaker force, was more
advantageous than waiting.15 The corps planning effort for the complex
river crossings took little time; Guderian and his commanders had planned
and rehearsed the operation extensively during field exercises only eight
weeks earlier. Guderian’s chief of staff, Col. Walther Nehring, planned
throughout the night and issued the corps order to the division command-
ers the next morning (13 May) at 0815. The division commanders were
likewise able to plan quickly.16 Maj. Gen. Friedrich Kirchner’s 1st Panzer
Division staff prepared and issued a detailed order—including a synchro-
nization matrix—in less than four hours.17
Guderian spent the morning moving among his divisions, coordinat-
ing with division commanders and clarifying his intent for the impend-
ing attack. Throughout the morning and afternoon, the Luftwaffe pounded
French positions on the far side of the Meuse. The main assault started at
1600. As his lead elements began crossing, Guderian left his headquarters
and drove to a location where he could observe the operation firsthand.
The 1st Infantry Regiment of 1st Panzer Division was across by 1800 and
had advanced more than a kilometer farther south; however, 2nd and 10th
Panzer divisions struggled to get their lead elements across. Guderian
himself crossed that evening and joined the 1st Infantry lines.18
The swiftness and ferocity of the German assault had collapsed large
parts of 55th Division’s defense, but the French were by no means de-
feated. At 1600—the same time that Guderian’s lead elements began
crossing—Grandsard ordered a counterattack consisting of two infantry
regiments, each reinforced with a tank battalion.19 His plan called for the
counterattack force to concentrate at Bulson, then proceed north to the
woods at Bois de la Marfée, and finally on to the Meuse. The inability of
2nd and 10th Panzer to push significant forces across the river had left 1st
Panzer occupying a narrow salient, and no German tanks were south of the

215
river. The French counterattack, if executed swiftly and forcefully, stood a
good chance of success.20

Givonne
N
Glaire
Sedan
Donchery

Bois de la
Marfée

LEGEND
Chéhéry German Units
FRANCE
French Units
River
Bulson Roads
Popula�on Centers
Connage German Advance 13 May
German Advance 14 May
French Countera�ack
Chémery

Figure 15.1. Delayed Counterattack by French X Corps Reserves, 14 May 1940.

Created by the author.

Unfortunately for the French, their counterattack was painfully slow

to materialize. At 2000, Grandsard ordered Lafontaine to take command
of the operation. But instead of issuing an order based on Grandsard’s
verbal guidance, Lafontaine displaced his command post rearward then
spent the better part of the night trying to get a written order from X Corps.
The counterattack force, meanwhile, made little progress toward its initial
objective at Bulson. Some commanders waited for written orders to be de-
livered by motorcycle messenger. Others, fearing interdiction by the Luft-
waffe, waited until dark before moving. Retreating 55th Division elements
clogged the roads and hampered the movement of the few counterattack
forces that managed to begin moving.21
The Germans spent the night of 13 May reinforcing their vulnerable
bridgehead and planning operations for the next day. At XIX Corps head-
quarters, Colonel Nehring estimated the 2nd and 10th Panzer’s slow prog-
ress was due to lack of fire support, so he allocated additional artillery to
each.22 The XIX Corps plan, issued at 2230, called for 1st Panzer to advance
216
farther south in the center, then turn west. 2nd Panzer would support on the
right, while 10th Panzer on the left would protect the southern flank.23
The next morning (14 May) at 0500, Lafontaine, though still lacking
a written order, finally issued an order to counterattack at 0730—a stag-
gering fifteen and a half hours after Grandsard’s verbal order.24 Despite
the sluggishness of the French response, 1st Panzer remained vulnerable.
Overnight, Kirchner had pushed reconnaissance units as far as Chémery;
however, 10th Panzer was still not far enough south to protect the 1st Pan-
zer flank. Around 0630, Kirchner received an air reconnaissance report of
French tanks massing to his south, and he immediately began to organize
a response. Unlike Lafontaine, Kirchner felt no obligation to have a writ-
ten order before acting. Wehrmacht officers were authorized, and indeed
expected, to act on their own initiative. Upon hearing of 1st Panzer’s over-
night advance, Guderian left his command post to see the situation for
himself. He arrived just as Kirchner was issuing his orders to meet the
French at Bulson and Chémery. Guderian and Kirchner no doubt recog-
nized the importance of Bulson; controlling it would not only secure the
corps flank, but also protect the critical bridgehead. Guderian met with
his staff and issued them a verbal order to support the 1st Panzer Division
attack by immediately moving 2nd Panzer Regiment across the river.25
While the Germans raced south and east to Bulson, the French moved
north slowly and deliberately. The French Army’s methodical battle doc-
trine cast armor in a supporting role to the infantry. Consequently, the
entire formation moved at the pace of a foot march. The slow-moving
right wing of the French counterattack was at last within a kilometer of
Bulson when Panzers suddenly appeared on the ridge ahead of them. The
French fought well in the engagement that followed, but it was too late; the
Germans had beat them to the high ground. Ultimately, the French were
forced to withdraw.26 In losing the race to Bulson, the French squandered
their best chance to check the Guderian’s attack.
The command philosophy of the XIX Corps leaders at Sedan will come
as no surprise to anyone who has studied the Wehrmacht. The actions of
both Guderian and Kirchner —leading from the front and exercising initia-
tive—were typical of Wehrmacht officers. Less well-known is the German
approach to planning and coordination. Some contend that the Germans did
little planning and instead relied entirely on decentralization, improvisa-
tion, and opportunism.27 Guderian’s river crossing suggests otherwise. He
planned the crossings in detail and rehearsed them prior to the campaign.
Once the main battle was underway, however, Guderian eschewed highly
detailed planning in favor of brief verbal and written orders.
217
 As the German campaign progressed beyond Sedan, Guderian and
his staff continued to issue written plans; however, the plans were sim-
ple, flexible, and had a limited time horizon. In the fifteen days it took
XIX Panzer Corps to advance from Sedan to the Channel coast, Guderian
issued eleven written orders. The content varied with the situation, but
all contained a brief situation paragraph and tasks for subordinate units.
Most contained air and ground fire support coordination, and many in-
cluded task organization changes. Other areas, such as reconnaissance,
signal, and engineering, were addressed as needed.28 These concise orders
covered only the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours of operations. The
Germans avoided overly detailed plans with extended horizons. In keep-
ing with Moltke’s dictum that “no plan of operations extends with any cer-
tainty beyond the first contact with the main hostile force,” the Germans
anticipated that the plan would inevitably need to change once the chaos
of combat erupted.29 They expected commanders would, on their own ini-
tiative, take whatever actions were subsequently necessary to either seize
opportunities or mitigate threats.
Israeli Defense Forces, Sinai 1967
Israel’s 1967 victory over the combined forces of Egypt, Jordan, and
Syria was one of the most stunning and decisive in history. The effectiveness
of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) command system was equally impres-
sive. Creveld calls the 1967 campaign “a dazzling demonstration” of what
a capable command system can do.30 Like Auftragstaktik, the Israeli system
was a mix of centralized and decentralized principles. Former IDF Chief of
Staff Mordechai Gur describes the Israeli command system this way:
A proper command system . . . is based on three principles, name-
ly (a) a clear definition of the objectives to be attained; (b) thor-
ough planning; and (c) a proper order of priorities. The danger
of adhering to a single idea, and even worse to a predetermined
plan, must be avoided. Discipline and teamwork must be com-
bined with improvisation. Controls, both external and internal,
must be in continuous operation. All three conditions must appear
self-contradicting; but in reality it is the balance between them
that determines the IDF’s unique character.31
In the Second Arab-Israeli War (1956), the IDF found its command
and control approach was too decentralized. In that conflict, the IDF had
developed a detailed campaign plan, but unfolding events quickly ren-
dered it useless. Israeli brigade commanders were granted, in IDF Chief of
Staff Moshe Dayan’s words, “a huge measure of independence.”32 Lacking

218
even minimal controls, the brigades failed to coordinate movement and
mutual support among themselves. Fortunately for the IDF, the result was
a series of isolated tactical successes which added up to a successful cam-
paign, though more by chance than design.33 The IDF concluded it needed
to impose more control on the “organized chaos” of its command system.34
Between 1956 and 1967, the IDF developed an improved command
system based on two principles the IDF termed “adherence to mission”
and “optional control.” Adherence to mission recognizes the Clausewit-
zian notion that fog, friction, and chaos are inherent to combat, resulting
in events which no plan can foresee. Consequently, commanders on the
ground are best-suited to make decisions and exploit opportunities. Junior
commanders are therefore authorized to deviate from the plan as long as
they adhere to the higher commander’s mission.35 The principle of op-
tional control counterbalances the latitude granted to junior commanders
under the adherence to mission principle by giving senior commanders
the “option” to change mission objectives if events dictate. It requires
subordinates to report frequently and accurately to higher commanders,
whose experience and perspective allow them to identify opportunities
and threats across the force.36 This system would get its first test in the
1967 Six-Day War.
On 4 June 1967, Israeli ground forces found themselves outnumbered
and outgunned at the frontier of the Sinai Peninsula on the brink of war
with Egypt. The Egyptian Sinai Field Army comprised six divisions plus
four brigades. Together, these accounted for roughly 90,000 soldiers, 1,000
tanks, and 1,000 pieces of artillery.37 On the Israeli side, Maj. Gen. Yesha-
yahu Gavish’s Southern Command consisted of three divisions and four
independent brigades.38 Israeli forces in the Sinai totaled around 45,000
soldiers, 650 tanks, and 150 pieces of artillery.39
The Egyptians were arrayed in a Soviet-style defense in depth. Three
infantry divisions with supporting armor defended forward along the three
east-west routes between Israel and the Suez Canal, and a Palestinian di-
vision guarded the Gaza Strip. On the second line was positioned another
infantry division and a two-brigade armored task force ready to reinforce,
block, or counterattack along any of the three routes. Finally, the well-
trained Egyptian 4th Tank Division, along with an additional motorized
infantry bridge, formed the final line of defense and operational reserve.40
The Israeli objective was straightforward: destroy as much of the
Egyptian Army as possible. The Israeli Air Force (IAF) would initiate
the campaign with a surprise airstrike to destroy the Egyptian Air Force

219
before it could sortie. Gavish’s Southern Command would then launch
a three-pronged ground offensive into the Sinai. In the north, Brigadier
Israel Tal’s division would attack at Khan Yunis, then turn west and ad-
vance along the coastal highway to Rafah, with an objective of El Arish.
In the center, Brig. Ariel Sharon would seize the critical crossroads at Abu
Agheila to open central Sinai. Between Tal and Sharon, Brig. Avraham
Yoffe would move one brigade through the dunes toward Bir Lahfan and
thereby cut the Egyptian line of communications between El Arish and
Abu Agheila. Once Sharon seized Abu Agheila, Yoffe’s second brigade
would attack westward along the central route. In the south, an indepen-
dent brigade would attack at Kuntilla to deceive the Egyptians as to the
location of the Israeli main effort. After these opening moves, the next
steps would depend on unfolding events. The Israelis anticipated a second
phase in which they would destroy the Egyptian second line of defense
and armored counterattack. In the third and final phase, all three divisions
would seize critical passes on the way to the Suez, cutting off and de-
stroying the remaining Egyptian forces.41 However, neither of these sub-
sequent phases was planned in detail.

Gaza
Mediterranean Sea Rafah
N
El Arish

Bir Lahfan Abu

Agheila
EGYPT
Nitzana
ISRAEL

LEGEND
Israeli Units
Egyptian Units
XXXXXX Fortifications
Roads
Armistice Line
Population Center

Figure 15.2. Egyptian Deployments in the Sinai. Created by the author.

220
Tal Division Attack toward El Arish
On the morning of 5 June, the Israeli air strikes went off like clock-
work. The first bombs fell at 0745, and over the next three hours, the IAF
successfully established air superiority over the Sinai.42 At 0847, the lead
elements of Tal Division crossed the frontier. Tal’s plan called for 7th Ar-
mor Brigade, commanded by Col. Shmuel Gonen, to strike north toward
Kahn Yunis—splitting the 20th Palestinian and Egyptian 7th Infantry divi-
sions—then swing west onto the coastal highway toward Rafah. An inde-
pendent task force from Southern Command would deal with the 20th Pal-
estinian in Gaza. Meanwhile, the 202nd Parachute Brigade, commanded
by Col. Rafael Eitan and mounted in half-tracks, would advance on Rafah
from the south and secure the road intersection at Rafah Junction. This
action would open the northern route for 7th Armor, which would head
west through Jiradi Pass and seize El Arish. Tal would preserve his third
brigade, 60th Armor commanded by Col. Menachem Aviram, to reinforce
either effort, or to exploit success.43
Tal’s troops had rehearsed exhaustively, but the plan was derailed al-
most immediately. Gonen’s 7th Armor met with fierce anti-tank and artil-
lery fire at Khan Yunis, and his lead elements bogged down in the narrow
streets. Tal had expected to face a second-rate Palestinian battalion but
now realized he was up against much more than that. In fact, it was a re-
inforced infantry brigade. Tal and Gonen reasoned they could not bypass
Khan Yunis as they had planned.44 Gonen was forced to commit his Centu-
rion tank battalion, which he had hoped to preserve for rapid exploitation
toward Rafah, to break through Khan Yunis. The Centurions linked up
with two companies of the already engaged Patton tanks. Together, the
two armored columns stormed toward the coast. The Palestinian defense
collapsed in the face of the armored onslaught.45 By 1030, 7th Armor had
made its way to Rafah when its lead elements once again came under
fire, this time from a defending Egyptian infantry brigade. The Israelis
countered with a fierce frontal assault and, after a bloody battle, sent the
entire Egyptian infantry brigade retreating. As Israeli artillery fire poured
into the fleeing Egyptians, the lead Israeli tank companies swung west and
advanced toward El Sheikh, the next objective on the way to El Arish.46
Despite initial difficulties, Tal’s attack was going well; 7th Armor was
on its way to El Arish and 202nd Parachute reported good progress toward
seizing Rafah Junction. There were, however, more surprises yet to come.
Around midday, Tal received word that Jordan had entered the war. The
unit tasked to seize the El Arish airfield, 55th Parachute Brigade, had been

221
reassigned to Central Command. Tal decided to commit 60th Armor to
this objective. Tal ordered Aviram to advance 60th Armor toward El Arish
on an axis south of and parallel to the coastal highway. With the Egyptian
Air Force no longer a factor, Tal reasoned Aviram’s tanks could proceed in
open desert without fear of air interdiction.47
Tal had scarcely finished addressing the loss of 55th Parachute when
Colonel Eitan reported that 202nd Parachute’s situation had suddenly
worsened. Eitan’s main attack had been checked on the south of Rafah
Junction, and his attached tank battalion was scattered and out of contact.
Without armor support, the paratroopers were dangerously close to be-
ing encircled. Tal could not pull the paratroopers back because he needed
Rafah Junction secure. Although lead elements of 7th Armor had already
pushed beyond the junction, lightly defended supply convoys would soon
follow. Tal hastily organized a three-battalion attack comprising his divi-
sion reserve (an armor-infantry battalion), a tank battalion from 7th Ar-
mor, and an armor-infantry battalion from 60th Armor. But before this
attack could materialize, Eitan suddenly regained contact with around two
dozen of his tanks. The paratroopers regrouped and at 1500 finally seized
Rafah Junction.48

Figure 15.3. Israel’s Attack in Northern Sinai. Created by the author.

222
 The lead elements of 7th Armor, meanwhile, had made it past El
Sheikh and arrived at Jiradi Pass—a narrow eleven-kilometer defile just
east of El Arish. Tal believed a single battalion of Egyptian infantry held
the pass, but his intelligence was once again off the mark. In actuality, the
entire Egyptian 112th Infantry Brigade was dug in throughout the area.
The Egyptians, however, were not expecting contact. Their only source of
information—propaganda radio—had led them to believe their army was
driving toward Tel Aviv. Consequently, the soldiers of the 112th watched
unbelievingly as 7th Armor’s lead tanks suddenly began rumbling through
their battle positions. Upon seeing the Egyptian positions, the Israelis, led
by Lt. Col. Pinko Harel, opened fire and sent the dumbfounded Egyptians
scurrying for cover. Harel received no return fire and assumed the Egyptian
positions were abandoned. He ordered his tanks to cease fire to conserve
ammunition and continued to the far side of Jeradi. The reconnaissance
company following Harel’s tanks was not as fortunate. The Egyptians,
now shaken out of passivity, unloaded on the Israeli reconnaissance troops
and forced them to fall back. Harel, meanwhile, arrived at the outskirts of
El Arish around 1500, but he was now cut off from the rest of 7th Armor.49
Colonel Gonen arrived at Jiradi Pass around 1630. Upon learning that
the pass was blocked, Gonen informed Tal and recommended a coordinat-
ed two-brigade assault to reopen it. Tal agreed and promptly organized the
necessary troops. He first released his reserve armor-infantry battalion to
7th Armor. He then scrapped 60th Armor’s mission to seize El Arish air-
field. Tal directed Aviram to have one of his tank battalions continue west
and link up with Harel’s force outside El Arish. Aviram’s two remaining
battalions would move to a position south of the pass, then attack north
and take the Egyptians in the flank. Gonen, by then reinforced with the
division reserve, would push through and open Jiradi Pass for good.50
Gonen remained concerned about Harel’s isolated forces on the far
side. Though he agreed with Tal’s plan, Gonen knew it would take some
time to get everything into position. He decided to push his own relief
force forward without waiting for 60th Armor. The Egyptians once again
resisted fiercely, but Gonen’s attack succeeded in breaking through—albeit
at the cost of several tanks and casualties, including a battalion command-
er. Gonen attempted to follow with his command group, but the Egyptians
held firm. Jiradi Pass was blocked again.51
To make matters worse, 60th Armor was now stuck in the soft sands
southwest of Jiradi and would be unable to support 7th Armor. Neverthe-
less, Tal knew he had to clear the pass. The division reserve battalion was

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now up and in position, and Tal elected to have Gonen proceed with the
attack. This time, Gonen led a coordinated assault with close air support
and methodically cleared the Egyptian defenders. Early on 6 June, around
0200, the Israelis finally secured the pass. Tal brought up his command
group and a supply train at 0420. Israeli forces seized El Arish airfield at
0730 and were, at last, poised to take El Arish.52 But a final assault into
the town turned out to be unnecessary. Later that day, the Egyptian high
command ordered all its units to fall back to the third line of defense.53
Sharon Division at Um Katif
As Tal Division was fighting along the coastal highway throughout the
day on 5 June, Sharon Division prepared to open the gateway to the heart
of the Sinai—Abu Agheila. Standing in its way was the Egyptian bastion
at Um Katif—a massive defensive position nearly nine kilometers wide
and three kilometers deep. Um Katif was situated on two mesas, and was
anchored to high ground in the south and dunes in the north. The forward
part of Um Katif consisted of three trench systems with accompanying
minefields, machine guns, and anti-tank guns. Behind the trenches was an
artillery park, and beyond that an armored reserve. Egyptian forces at Um
Katif totaled 16,000 soldiers, ninety tanks, and eighty pieces of artillery.54
Sharon’s plan to destroy Um Katif called for a tightly coordinated
combined arms assault. Two infantry battalions and a tank company would
move south as a deception to keep the Egyptian brigade at Qasaymeh in
place. An armor battalion would move around the north side of Um Katif
to Ruafa Dam using a narrow trail called Batur Track. This action would
isolate the defending Egyptians from second echelon reinforcements and
allow the Israelis to attack the Egyptian armored reserve from the rear.
The main attack would occur that night; a massive artillery barrage would
precede a simultaneous three-pronged assault. Sharon’s 14th Armor Bri-
gade would seize the Egyptians’ forward outposts and provide supporting
fires. Simultaneously, 31st Parachute Brigade would air-assault to landing
zones south of Um Katif, and from there attack the artillery park. The main
effort would be 99th Infantry Brigade, which would march undetected to
a position north of Um Katif, then assault the three Egyptian trench lines
from north to south.55
Sharon’s attack, like Tal’s in the north, stuttered almost immediately.
Sharon’s Division began moving at 0815, but an Egyptian outpost at Um
Tarpa halted his lead battalion with mines and anti-tank fire. The battalion,
commanded by Lt. Col. Natan Nir, was supposed to be making its way to
Ruafa Dam via Batur Track but now had to fight its way through unexpect-

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edly stubborn resistance. After a few hours and the loss of several tanks,
Nir drove the Egyptians back and continued toward his first objective at
Hill 181, a prominent terrain feature north of Um Katif.56 Nir expected a
tough fight from the defenders at Hill 181, and the Egyptians obliged him.
Nir’s initial attack on the position failed in the face of blistering Egyptian
fire. Nir withdrew, reorganized, and finally forced the Egyptians off the
hill. It had been slow going and Nir had taken heavy losses, but the way
was now open to Ruafa Dam. Nir left a tank company to secure Hill 181
then continued west.57
Back at the main highway, Sharon’s Sherman tank battalion advanced
westward toward the base of Um Katif, but heavy fire from Um Katif
halted the Shermans at around 1200. A tank and artillery duel between
the Shermans and Egyptian defenders ensued and lasted most of the after-
noon. This action, along with Nir’s attack at Hill 181, held the Egyptians’
attention while 99th Infantry marched undetected through the dunes to its
starting positions for the coming assault on the Um Katif trenches.58
As evening approached, 31st Parachute prepared for its air assault.
Sharon initially planned to land 300 paratroopers on a small hill south of
Um Katif called Jebel Dalfa; however, Sharon received only six of the
promised twelve aircraft. For this reason, the Israelis could lift just 150
paratroopers. Additionally, Sharon learned that the Egyptian artillery was
farther west than he expected, and the terrain was unfavorable between the
landing zone at Jebel Dalfa and the artillery emplacements. In light of these
developments, Sharon moved the landing zones to the opposite (north) side
of Um Katif to a site near Hill 181. The paratroopers would now attack
from north to south. The terrain would be more suitable for a dismounted
assault, and Nir’s tanks on Hill 181 could secure the landing zones.59
As night fell, Sharon had not yet set conditions for his main assault.
Although 99th Infantry was ready, the remainder of Sharon’s forces still
had work to do. Nir’s Centurion battalion was stopped short of the Abu
Agheila-Ruafa Dam area, leaving the door open for Egyptian reinforce-
ments. The helicopters landing 31st Parachute near Hill 181 had alerted
the Egyptians, and the paratroopers there began receiving mortar fire. The
Shermans at the base of Um Katif were pinned down by artillery fire, but
continued sniping at the Egyptians to give the impression of an impending
frontal attack.60
Around sunset, Major General Gavish flew to Sharon’s field headquar-
ters. Gavish—and indeed most of the Israeli high command—had been
skeptical of Sharon’s elaborate plan from the start.61 The present situation

225
did little to alleviate Gavish’s concerns. He urged Sharon to consider wait-
ing until daylight to attack, at which point the IAF could provide air sup-
port. Sharon, however, had made up his mind. He elected to continue with
the night assault, but pushed the start time back to 2300 to allow his units
more time to get into position.62 Gavish deferred to Sharon’s judgment but
remained skeptical. Earlier in the day, Brigadier Yoffee had successfully
moved his two brigades to Bir Lahfan—a road intersection about thirty
kilometers north of Abu Agheila. At 2200, Gavish directed Yoffe to send a
battalion south from Bir Lahfan to aid Sharon.63 As it turned out, Gavish’s
concerns would prove to be unfounded and the extra help unnecessary.

N Hill 181
Nitzana

Abu Agheila Umm Tarpa

Um Katif
Ruafa Dam
LEGEND
Israeli Units
Egyptian Units
Jebel
XXXXXX Fortifications
Dalfa Roads
Armistice Line
Population Center
Initial Movements
Assault

Figure 15.4. Israel’s Attack at Um Katif. Created by the author.

At 2230, Sharon’s six artillery battalions let loose with a massive prepa-
ratory barrage of more than 6,000 rounds. At 2250, the 99th Infantry com-
mander, Col. Yekutiel Adam, requested to start the attack early to preserve
the element of surprise. Sharon agreed, and Adam’s infantryman began
assaulting downhill from its positions north of Um Katif. The entrenched
Egyptian infantry called for artillery support, but the fire was ineffectual.
At that moment the artillery park was in chaos. The 31st Parachute attack
on the Egyptian artillery was perfectly coordinated with the trench assault.
The paratroopers managed to destroy two artillery batteries before being

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forced to withdraw with heavy casualties. On the way out, they ambushed
two Egyptian supply convoys, setting ammunition and fuel trucks ablaze.
Although some artillery remained intact, the paratroopers created enough
destruction, chaos, and confusion to reduce the artillery’s effectiveness.64
Sharon initiated the final phase of his intricate plan at 0200 on 6 June.
Nir’s Centurions emerged from the desert and assaulted the Abu Agheila
intersection; then without stopping, they pushed south to Ruafa Dam. Um
Katif was cut off. Sharon set about destroying the Egyptian tank reserve,
which he aimed to crush between Nir’s tanks coming east from Ruafa
Dam and the Shermans moving west along the main highway. After some
difficulty getting through Egyptian minefields, the Shermans and Nir’s
Centurions encircled the Egyptians at 0400. During the ensuing battle, the
Israelis destroyed more than forty Egyptian tanks and sent the rest retreat-
ing into the desert. Sharon had successfully opened the door to the heart
of the Sinai.65
US VII Corps, Iraq 1991
This final case study explores US VII Corps operations during the
1991 Gulf War. The VII Corps commander, Lt. Gen. Fred Franks, has been
both praised and criticized for his handling of the campaign. Some praise
Franks’s attack as a classic example of large-unit maneuver to concentrate
combat power.66 They describe the VII Corps attack, and coalition ground
operation writ large, as maneuver warfare and mission command at their
best. On the other hand, critics claim senior American commanders tight-
ly controlled operations and left no room for disciplined initiative. They
point to the US Army’s technological superiority and the Iraqi Army’s
passivity as the campaign’s decisive factors.67 In truth, the VII Corps com-
mand system was similar to that of the previously discussed German and
Israeli models. Franks and his subordinates used a combination of detailed
planning, rapid coordination, and mission command.
On the evening of 23 February 1991, Franks’s US VII Corps stood
ready to attack and destroy the Iraqi military center of gravity, the Repub-
lican Guard.68 Intelligence estimated the overall Iraqi strength at 545,000
soldiers, 4,280 tanks, and 3,100 artillery pieces.69 The American-led coali-
tion fielded a roughly equal number of soldiers—558,200—but had fewer
(although better) tanks (3,090) and significantly less artillery (1,186).70
Coalition air forces had been pounding the Iraqis for more than a month,
and while the front-line units were severely attrited, the Republican Guard
remained combat-effective.71

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 The Iraqis expected coalition forces to attack directly north toward
Kuwait City and Basra. They had built a line of obstacles which was an-
chored on the Persian Gulf coast, covered the entire Saudi-Kuwaiti border,
and ended in the Iraqi desert. The Iraqis intended to fix attacking coalition
units within these dense fortifications, then grind the attackers down with
massive artillery barrages. Iraqi infantry divisions occupied the front line
of defense. Behind them, Iraqi armored units were ready to counterattack
against any coalition forces that breached the obstacle belt. Even farther
back, the Republican Guard waited in reserve.72
The coalition plan was to go around the Iraqi defense rather than
through it. The terrain west of the obstacle belt terminus was open desert
with few roads, and some of it was impassable for mounted forces. Coa-
lition commanders would send the main attack though this area—where
the Iraqis would least expect it. In the east, US Marines would deceive the
Iraqis by attacking toward Kuwait City. Meanwhile, the US XVIII Corps,
in the open desert far to the west, would move north and then east, forming
a massive “left hook” which would envelop and cut off Iraqi ground forc-
es. In the center, the heavily armored VII Corps would push north, then
swing east and hit the Republican Guard in the flank.
Across the Iraq border, Franks faced five Iraqi infantry divisions dug
in along the obstacle belt (which extended only about midway into the
VII Corps area). One mechanized division beyond them sat ready to rein-
force or counterattack. Farther north and east was the Republican Guard,
Iraq’s best-trained and best-equipped troops. The Republican Guard Forc-
es Command (RGFC) comprised six divisions: three armored/mechanized
and three infantry.73
Franks and his staff had been planning and rehearsing the plan for
nearly four months.74 It resembled the theater commander’s plan in that
Franks intended to put his main effort to the west beyond the obstacle belt.
In the east, 1st Infantry Division would breach the Iraqi obstacle system,
then pass UK 1st Armoured Division forward. The British tankers would
attack the Iraqi heavy division behind the main defense. In the west, the
VII Corps main attack—1st and 3rd Armored divisions—would bypass
the obstacles and race toward the Republican Guard. Ahead of the divi-
sions, 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment would reconnoiter along the Corps
axis of advance.75
VII Corps began moving north on the morning of 24 February.
Franks’s main attack was scheduled to begin the next day; however, 2nd
Cavalry started its reconnaissance twenty-four hours earlier while the di-

228
visions moved into position. As VII Corps approached the Iraq border,
coalition forces elsewhere were having unexpected success. Iraqi defenses
were collapsing all along the front. Lt. Gen. John Yeosock, Third Army
commander, called Franks at 0930 to inquire if VII Corps could attack ear-
ly—1500 that afternoon. After talking to his commanders, Franks affirmed
that he could.76
At 1430, VII Corps began a thirty-minute artillery barrage on the Iraqi
front-line positions. At 1500, 1st Infantry Division’s tanks began clearing
lanes through the Iraqi minefields, while American artillery suppressed Iraqi
artillery. Apache helicopters supported with attacks against Iraqi tanks. By
1715, 1st Infantry had opened several lanes and began moving north.77
Franks faced his first major decision late that afternoon. While flying
to the 2nd Cavalry command post, he noticed a gap of some twenty kilo-
meters had opened between the cavalrymen and the armored divisions be-
hind them. Upon arriving, Franks informed Col. Don Holder, the 2nd Cav-
alry commander, about the emerging gap and told him to be prepared to
stop for the night. Back at his command post, Franks learned that two 1st
Infantry brigades were through the obstacle breach but the rest of the divi-
sion had yet to advance. It was now dark, and Franks considered whether
to continue sending 1st Infantry through the minefields in the dark. He
judged the risk to be too great. Although he would have to slow his attack,
Franks reluctantly halted the corps until first light.78
The next morning, 25 February, Franks gave Yeosock an update then
turned his attention to the deep fight. Franks planned to attack the Republi-
can Guard the next day, and he knew the decisions he made that day would
shape the options available to him the next day. Specifically, Franks consid-
ered whether to execute FRAGPLAN 7—a branch plan which would add a
third division to his main attack and allow VII Corps to destroy the Repub-
lican Guard with overwhelming force. Franks called it the “armored fist.”79
Franks’s problem was determining which division he could use for
FRAGPLAN 7. His first choice was 1st Cavalry Division. But 1st Cavalry
was the theater reserve, and Franks could use it only if the theater com-
mander, Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf, released it to him. His second choice
was 1st Infantry. Franks was initially unsure how effective 1st Infantry
might be after breaching the obstacle belt. Fortunately, the operation was
easier than expected, and 1st Infantry remained a combat-capable forma-
tion. Schwarzkopf had yet to release 1st Cavalry, so Franks made his deci-
sion: 1st Infantry would be the third division of the armored fist.80

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 Franks now focused on getting his armored fist in position for the
coming attack. Around 0830, he met with the 1st Armored commander,
Maj. Gen. Ron Griffin, and directed him to move his division to the north-
ern part of Objective Collins by the end of the day. The purpose was two-
fold. First, get in position to be the northern division of the armored fist.
Second, if the Iraqis counterattacked, Griffin’s division would be in an
excellent position to take them in their northwestern flank.81
At 1100, Franks met with 1st Infantry commander Maj. Gen. Tom
Rhame and UK 1st Armoured commander Maj. Gen. Rupert Smith.
Rhame’s troops had finally made it through the breach lanes and were
now securing the breach while Smith’s troops moved through. Franks
gave Rhame his marching orders; 1st Infantry would be the third divi-
sion in FRAGPLAN 7. He instructed Rhame to move 1st Infantry to a
position southwest of 2nd Cavalry, then be prepared to pass through them
sometime the next afternoon. Smith’s division would continue through the
breach and attack the Iraqi 52nd Armor Division in order to secure the
right flank of the armored fist.82

Figure 15.5. Kuwait and Vicinity, the Liberation of Kuwait, 24–26 February 1991.
Created by the author.

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 Franks’s planning took on new urgency at 1240 when 2nd Cavalry
identified forward elements of the Tawakalna Division—one of three
heavy Republican Guard divisions. As he set out to see 2nd Cavalry’s situ-
ation for himself, Franks considered his next decisions. First, he reasoned
that the Iraqis now knew a significant force was coming at them from the
west rather than the south. With the Tawakalna Division engaged, the oth-
er heavy divisions would soon join the fight; however, they would have
to reorient from south to west. That would take time, and Franks was de-
termined to press his attack before the Iraqis could reset their defenses.
Second, Franks considered when to pass 1st Infantry through 2nd Cavalry.
He needed 2nd Cavalry to keep the pressure on the Iraqis and develop a
better idea of their disposition. At the same time, Franks knew that 2nd
Cavalry lacked the combat power to destroy an entire heavy Republican
Guard division. For that reason, Franks needed 1st Infantry to get in the
fight soon; however, it would be at least twelve hours before 1st Infantry
would be done passing UK 1st Armoured through the breach. By then, 1st
Infantry would have nearly one hundred kilometers to cover.83
Franks wrestled with whether to slow 2nd Cavalry to allow 1st Infan-
try to catch up. He discussed the situation with Holder and ultimately de-
cided 2nd Cavalry could continue east. Franks directed Holder to collapse
the Tawakalna Division security zone, find its flanks, and maintain contact
until 1st Infantry was in a position to pass forward. Franks estimated the
passage would happen at some point the following afternoon, but that es-
timate was based on two assumptions. First, Franks assumed the location
of the Tawakalna Division main body based on the location of its security
zone, but he needed Holder and his cavalrymen to confirm the Iraqis were
indeed where he expected them to be. Second, Franks had estimated the
time required for 1st Infantry to move up, but he needed to ensure this
estimate was accurate. Franks needed more information about both these
assumptions before he decided where and when to conduct the passage.84
Franks set about ensuring his other divisions would be ready for the
Republican Guard. He notified 1st and 3rd Armored commanders of his
intent to execute FRAGPLAN 7 and confirmed they would both be ready.
Franks also informed Yeosock of his intentions.85 Late that evening, the VII
Corps staff issued the written order to execute FRAGPLAN 7. The divisions
did not have much time to plan but were nevertheless able to pass the corps
order down quickly. A 3rd Armored plans officer wrote the entire division
order by hand and faxed it to subordinates. In 1st Armored, Major General
Rhame issued his order verbally while his units were on the move.86

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 As the third day of the offensive began, the situation in the forward
part of the VII Corps area was shaping up just as Franks expected. The
2nd Cavalry had fixed the Tawakalna Division and continued pressing
east. Also, 1st Armored was in the midst of securing Objective Collins and
would continue east later in the morning, and 3rd Armored was already
turning east toward a position in the center. Conditions would soon be set
to pass 1st Infantry forward. To top things off, Schwarzkopf released 1st
Cavalry Division to VII Corps at 0930. Franks directed the 1st Cavalry
commander, Maj. Gen. John Tilelli, to bring his division up behind the
Corps’ front-line divisions.87
Things were not going as well for 1st Infantry. The division moved
off the breach at 0430, but poor weather hampered its progress. While 1st
Infantry slogged ahead, Franks coordinated with Holder for the final lo-
cation of the impending passage of lines.88 They settled on the 60 Easting.
Rhame’s infantrymen had a long distance to cover; Franks estimated they
might not make it up before sunset, which raised the specter of another
tough decision—whether to pass 1st Infantry forward in the dark.89
Only a few hours later, the situation changed yet again; 1st Infan-
try Division was moving even slower now. If 2nd Cavalry stopped at the
60 Easting, Holder’s troops would have to wait idly while 1st Infantry
came up. But this would relieve the pressure on the Republican Guard, and
Franks would have none of it. He radioed Holder and told him to disregard
the earlier order to halt at the 60 Easting and instead continue fighting
eastward. Franks had earlier been concerned that 2nd Cavalry would be
unable to press the fight against a heavy enemy division. His morning visit
to the 2nd Cavalry command post, however, convinced him that Holder’s
cavalrymen still had plenty of fight left in them.90
Franks’s decision to have 2nd Cavalry continue east, although risky,
ultimately paid off. At 1600, the lead companies of 2nd Cavalry sighted
several Iraqi T-72 tanks dug in around the 70 Easting. Holder’s cavalry-
men were outnumbered, and these Iraqis—unlike the conscripts manning
the front lines—were determined to fight. Although Holder had earlier
established a limit of advance at the 70 Easting, his troop commanders
knew that arbitrarily stopping would surrender the tactical surprise they
had just achieved; consequently, they ignored their limit of advance and
unleashed a violent attack.91 Over the course of the next four hours, 2nd
Cavalry destroyed more than fifty tanks and armored vehicles, and took
more than 1,300 prisoners. The action would become known as the Battle
of 73 Easting.92

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 Franks knew he had to get 1st Infantry passed soon; VII Corps was
now decisively engaged with the Republican Guard. While the battle at the
73 Easting raged on, 1st and 3rd Armor destroyed two Tawakalna Division
brigades. In the south, the UK 1st Armoured successfully fought a series
of engagements against Iraqi units attempting to withdraw out of Kuwait.93
Around 1700, the 1st Infantry Division was, at last, ready to pass through
2nd Cavalry.94 It would be a risky operation at night, but Franks felt the
risk was justified; he needed combat power forward because he expected
more tough fighting ahead. Franks also ordered several task organization
changes, primarily augmenting 1st Armored, 3rd Armored, and 1st Infan-
try with additional artillery and attack aviation.95
With the armored fist attack now set, Franks turned his attention to the
Republican Guard divisions beyond the Tawakalna. Presently, 1st Cavalry
Division was moving toward the front and prepared to swing either north
or south of the main attack. The UK 1st Armoured would soon be complete
with its supporting attacks on the VII Corps southern flank. With three di-
visions attacking and two available, Franks saw an opportunity for a double
envelopment. While the armored fist slammed into the westernmost Re-
publican Guard divisions, Franks could send two divisions around the main
attack to take the second echelon divisions in its flanks. The 1st Cavalry
would be the northern arm and, depending on how the fight progressed,
either 1st Infantry or UK 1st Armoured would be the southern arm.96
On the morning of 27 February, Franks needed to decide how to
proceed with his envisioned double envelopment.97 The 1st Infantry had
cleared the 2nd Cavalry lines early that morning, and Franks set out to
see how Rhame was faring.98 Rhame, who was commanding his division
forward from a tank, estimated the Iraqi units in his area were no longer
capable of mounting an organized defense. He projected his division could
advance east to Highway 8 by nightfall. Since 1st Infantry was farther east
than UK 1st Armoured and moving steadily, it was in a better position to
become the southern arm of the double envelopment. Franks made his de-
cision, sketched out the scheme of maneuver for the 1st Infantry staff, then
set about coordinating the rest of the plan.99 After stopping at his tactical
command post and directing his staff to draw up a graphics overlay, he
visited 1st Armored and 3rd Armored to give those commanders his intent.
Later that morning, he met with Tilelli and laid out the scheme of maneu-
ver for 1st Cavalry: pass north of 1st Armored and destroy the Hammurabi
Division of the Republican Guard.100
While Franks and his staff were orchestrating the double envelopment,
the fight was intensifying. All three divisions of the armored fist were in
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contact, and in fact, VII Corps would be engaged with four Republican
Guard divisions by the end of the day.101 Just before noon, 1st Armored
destroyed an entire brigade of the Medina Division in only forty-five min-
utes in an action which would become known as the Battle at Medina
Ridge.102 With his division decisively engaged, Rhame questioned wheth-
er he could safely pass 1st Cavalry to his north. At 1700, he radioed as
much to Franks, who deferred to his subordinate’s judgment and elected
to delay 1st Cavalry’s attack until the next day.103
What Franks didn’t know was that a ceasefire was already in the
works. By Wednesday morning, Iraqi forces were in full-fledged retreat
out of Kuwait along Highway 80, where they were mercilessly pounded
by coalition air and ground forces on what became known as the Highway
of Death. Gen. Colin Powell, then chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,
worried that television images of the carnage might anger Americans and
allies. Powell pressed for an early ceasefire, and the president and secre-
tary of defense ultimately agreed. Hostilities ceased at 0800 Riyadh time
on the morning of 28 February 1991.104
Observations and Recommendations
Though separated by more than fifty years, these cases demonstrate
several consistencies in the way corps and division commanders exer-
cised command of large tactical formations. They reveal that large-scale
combat operations require a flexible command philosophy which blends
mission command and detailed command based on the operational con-
text. Command systems must be centralized enough to enable higher tac-
tical commanders to coordinate operations and shape the battlefield. At
the same time, they must be decentralized enough to allow lower tactical
commanders the freedom of action to deal with emergent opportunities
and threats. Blending centralization and decentralization requires disci-
plined initiative, communications, and rapid coordination. Higher tactical
commanders provide the minimum necessary controls to synchronize op-
erations while at the same time preserving freedom of action for subordi-
nates. Subordinates, in turn, exercise disciplined initiative and report their
activities frequently and accurately, which enables higher commanders to
coordinate the resulting changes. Commanders who can rapidly perform
this initiative-reporting-coordination cycle increase their chances of tac-
tical success.
Acknowledging the limits of these conclusions is essential. These cas-
es focus on a narrow context—offensive operations in large-scale com-

234
bat—because it provides a high-stress test case for command and control.
If, as Creveld asserts, uncertainty is the primary condition under which
command systems must function, then surely the fast-paced attacks of
combined arms offensive operations are the most challenging circum-
stance.105 It is important to acknowledge that in other contexts, command
and control demands will be different.
The above idea reinforces the observation that commanders must tai-
lor their command approach to the operational context. An army must
function in many different contexts, including in garrison, during field
training, during deployment, while planning and preparing, and of course
when fighting. Each situation requires a unique approach. Mission com-
mand is not always desirable and may not even be possible.
The activities of a garrisoned army, for example, lend themselves to
detailed command. Accounting for supplies, conducting maintenance, and
scheduling training are all done more efficiently when centrally managed.
Imagine if every company commander on a given installation was respon-
sible for determining when to conduct a rifle range based solely on the in-
stallation commander’s intent. The result would be chaos and wasted time.
An obviously better approach is to have a centralized scheduling system
whereby each company coordinates its range time with others. Another
example is vehicle and aircraft maintenance. No one would want a helicop-
ter mechanic, for instance, fixing an aircraft engine based only on intent.
No matter how much the commander trusts that mechanic, the commander
demands that the mechanic follow the published procedure without devi-
ation. As a garrisoned army mobilizes and prepares for war, it operates in
yet more contexts where some detailed command is necessary. The process
of deploying—packing equipment, moving to port, and loading ships—is
necessarily centralized for maximum efficiency. As Daniel J. Hughes not-
ed, even the father of mission command, Helmuth von Moltke, recognized
the advantages of centralization, particularly prior to a campaign:
“No plan of operations,” [Moltke] wrote, “survives the first colli-
sion with the main body of the enemy.” Therefore, he concluded,
strategy—and in this context he included operations and even tac-
tics—was little more than a “system of expedients.” Even so, the
first, albeit all important, phases in the strategic sequence—mo-
bilization and transport schedules, and the initial deployment—
could be tightly controlled by good staff work on the expanding
railroad and telegraph network.106

235
 After deployment, an army still has need of detailed planning. Each
of these historical examples illustrates the value of thorough planning for
the first engagement of a campaign. These plans, along with exhaustive
rehearsals, are vital because a successful first engagement secures the ini-
tiative. Many have criticized the US Army’s slow and deliberate planning
process as an obstacle to mission command. They are quick to cite Gen.
George Patton’s famous quote that “a good plan violently executed now
is better than a perfect plan next week.”107 While critics of Army planning
focus on Patton’s exhortation of rapid execution, they ignore his prerequi-
site—a good plan.108 In each of the case studies presented, commanders un-
derstood the value of a good plan and, therefore, planned the initial engage-
ments to a level of detail that extended well past mission-type orders.109
While detailed planning is necessary, it is also fraught with traps. One
of these traps is creating detailed plans for extended time horizons. The
commanders examined here limited the time horizons of their detailed
plans to between twenty-four and forty-eight hours. While it is true that
commanders must anticipate events beyond forty-eight hours—as all these
commanders did—they do so with the realization that circumstances will
be significantly different by then. Detailed planning for extended time
horizons wastes time and creates conditions for another trap—fighting the
plan rather than the enemy. Commanders who invest time and resources
in a detailed plan may be reluctant to deviate from it, even when circum-
stances make deviation necessary. Another trap is planning in detail once
tactical operations are underway. Planning in the midst of operations must
support a rapid decision cycle. Commanders must forego exhaustive or-
ders and time-consuming staff products in favor of concise, easily dissem-
inated mission orders.
In summary, the command systems necessary to train, organize, and
equip armies in peacetime are often centralized and rigid. Likewise, mobi-
lizing, planning, and preparing for tactical operations frequently require a
more centralized and detailed approach. Mission command is sometimes
an inappropriate approach for the day-to-day running of an army, as well
as the detailed planning and preparation that must occur before initiating
a campaign.
A second observation is that divisions and corps commanders pro-
vide minimum controls for the close fight while shaping the deep fight.
Commander’s intent and shared understanding are not by themselves suf-
ficient to succeed in large-scale combat operations. Division and corps
commanders perform critical coordinating tasks, including synchronizing
operations in depth, adjusting task organizations, coordinating movement,
236
and ensuring mutual support among subordinate echelons. Divisions and
corps commanders and staffs receive reports and monitor the close fight
primarily in order set conditions for future operations rather than control
maneuver in the ongoing close fight. Division and corps commanders
must, however, provide the minimum control necessary to synchronize
brigades and battalions.
Importantly, what constitutes minimal necessary control may, in fact,
be quite rigid. Much depends on the tactical situation. The best example
is the Israeli case study. Although both Tal and Sharon operated within
the same command philosophy of adherence to mission/optional control,
they each took different approaches based on their respective situations.
Tal conducted a rapid and concentrated armor offensive. The pace of Tal’s
attack, along with inaccurate intelligence, led to a fluid battle in which
he had to constantly adapt to swiftly changing circumstances. Tal made
numerous task organization and mission changes, issued verbal orders by
radio, and often provided little beyond a commander’s intent and mission
objectives. Sharon, on the other hand, orchestrated a set-piece combined
arms assault on a static defensive position. His operation depended on syn-
chronized action and massed effects. Sharon implemented rigid controls,
then fought the battle almost precisely as he had planned it. Both were
successful because they adapted their command approach to suit their re-
spective tactical problems.
A third observation is that mission command and decentralization of
decision authority remains essential for the close fight. The commander
on the ground observing the battle with his own eyes is in the best position
to control the close fight. These commanders must be allowed sufficient
freedom to take independent action to seize opportunities and mitigate
threats. General Kirchner’s initiative to meet the French counterattack at
Bulson saved the German bridgehead and possibly the entire campaign.
Commanders throughout General Tal’s division were forced to fight scat-
tered and out of contact in the chaotic attack toward El Arish. The decision
by the 2nd Cavalry troop commanders to disregard their limit of advance
at 73 Easting kept the Iraqis off balance and bought time for1st Infantry to
move forward.110
Mission command remains the best way to deal with the inherent un-
certainty of close combat. The fundamental requirement of any centralized
command system is to create situational understanding of local conditions
for a commander who is not personally observing the fight. Creating that
understanding is difficult at best, and the time required to do it, lengthens
a commander’s decision cycle and puts him at a disadvantage. It has been
237
nearly 200 years since Carl von Clausewitz wrote that most information in
war is either contradictory, false, or uncertain.111 There is little indication
this has changed. Empowering the commander on the ground, who by
definition has a real-time understanding of the close fight, remains the best
way to deal with uncertainty at the tactical level.
At first glance, the necessity of mission command seems to be at odds
with the requirement to control and coordinate operations. Army doctrine
refers to this relationship as a “balance” between the art of command and
the science of control.112 This phraseology is misleading, for it implies an
opposing relationship. A proper relationship between mission command
and detailed command is one of interdependence rather than opposition;
operational context shapes the character of the interdependency.
The above idea leads to a fourth and final observation: Commanders
unify detailed command and mission command into an effective command
system by mastering the triad of disciplined initiative, communications,
and rapid coordination. The commanders in these case studies imposed
the minimum essential controls which were appropriate to the tactical
problem at hand. Lower echelon commanders then exercised initiative
within those controls. Their actions changed—in some cases substan-
tially—the tactical situation. Lower echelon commanders reported to the
higher commander, either through radio communications or face-to-face
updates. Higher commanders were then able to rapidly coordinate the rest
of the formation to account for the changed circumstances using concise
verbal or written orders.
These activities—initiative, reporting, and coordination—comprise a
single tactical decision cycle in an interdependent command system. Com-
manders must be able to execute tactical decision cycles faster than the
enemy. The cases presented here suggest the duration of a single tactical
decision cycle at higher echelons is between twelve and thirty-six hours.
Corps-level commanders Guderian, Gavish, and Franks made one or two
decisions every twenty-four hours. Division command decisions were
more frequent. In General Tal’s fight, for example, it was every few hours.
Unsurprisingly, these commanders used austere mobile command
posts. Large staffs in static command posts are ill-suited to support rap-
id tactical decision cycles. These commanders stayed close to the action,
which provided them a better feel for the fight. Franks, for example, es-
timated that once operations began, he was getting only about twenty
percent of his decision-making information from his staff, forty to fifty

238
percent from talking to his subordinates, and the remainder from what he
was seeing and hearing, along with his intuition and judgment.113 These
commanders spoke with subordinate commanders frequently, both on the
radio and in person. All were able to coordinate necessary changes.
Conclusion
Since the days of Frederick the Great, the central problem of com-
mand has been to make disconnected pieces of an army work together
toward a common goal. The traditional option of either centralizing or
decentralizing is a false dilemma. The solution, as demonstrated through
these case studies, is an integrated command system which amplifies the
strengths and mitigates the weaknesses of both philosophies.
This interdependent approach is an imperfect solution at best; howev-
er, it is the best solution that is realistically attainable. Going back to the
dilemma of balancing a senior commander’s experience and perspective
against a junior commander’s local situational awareness, a theoretical
“best” command system would provide sufficient and timely situational
awareness to the commander with the requisite experience and perspective
to make an optimal decision. Sadly, this solution is only theoretical; there
are but two paths to this end. The first is to somehow implant junior com-
manders with the experience and wisdom of a senior commander—obvi-
ously impossible. The second is to provide senior commanders with the
same situational awareness as junior commanders on the ground. Armies
have tried to do exactly that since at least the time of Frederick the Great
using emerging communications technology, from the telegraph to the
internet. Despite continual technological advancement, however, perfect
situational awareness continues to elude commanders and will to do so for
the foreseeable future. Creveld writes:
To believe that the wars of the future, thanks to some extraordi-
nary technological advances yet to take place in such fields as
computers or remotely controlled sensors, will be less opaque and
therefore more subject to rational calculations than their predeces-
sors is . . . sheer delusion.114
Combat is, in a word, chaos. War in general—and close combat in
particular—remains difficult, uncertain, and unpredictable. Attempts to
impose absolute order on this chaos are doomed to fail. The most practical
approach to command to is to accept the chaos but be better than your
adversary at adapting to the results.

239
 Notes
1. Martin L. van Creveld, Command in War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1985), 17–18, 58.
2. Creveld, 17.
3. Creveld, 11.
4. Creveld, 277.
5. Headquarters, Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publi-
cation (ADRP) 6-0, Mission Command (Washington, DC: 2014), v.
6. Creveld, Command in War, 196–98.
7. Creveld, 55.
8. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, The Somme (New Haven, CT: Yale Uni-
versity Press, 2005), 300–1; Creveld, 157–68.
9. Creveld, 261.
10. Headquarters, Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0: Opera-
tions (Washington, DC: 2017), 1-2.
11. Lt. Gen Mike Lundy and Col. Rich Creed, “The Return of U.S. Army
Field Manual 3-0, Operations,” Military Review 96, no. 6 (November–Decem-
ber 2017): 16.
12. Department of the Army, ADRP 6-0, v.
13. Eliot A.Cohen and John Gooch, Military Misfortunes: The Anatomy of
Failure in War (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2012), 201.
14. John J. McGrath, “A Motorized Infantry Regiment Crosses the Meuse
River, May 1940” in 16 Cases of Mission Command, ed. Donald P. Wright (Fort
Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2013), 57.
15. Heinz Guderian, Panzer Leader, trans. Constantine Fitzgibbon (New
York: Da Capo, 1996), 98–101.
16. Florian K. Rothbrust, Guderian’s XIXth Panzer Corps and the Battle of
France: Breakthrough in the Ardennes, May 1940 (New York: Praeger, 2016), 74.
17. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 478–86.
18. Rothbrust, Panzer Corps, 75–76.
19. Karl-Heinz Frieser, The Blitzkrieg Legend: The 1940 Campaign in the
West, trans. John T. Greenwood (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), 183.
20. Frieser, 175–77.
21. Frieser, 183–84.
22. Rothbrust, Panzer Corps, 76–77.
23. Rothbrust, 76–77.
24. Frieser, Blitzkrieg Legend, 188.
25. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 104–5.
26. Frieser, Blitzkrieg Legend, 188–90.
27. “Târgul Frumos and the Counter Stroke at Facuti; Operational and Tacti-
cal Lessons—War on the Eastern Front, 1941–45,” Camberley Staff College,
n.d., 10-1–10-11, quoted in Meir Finkel, On Flexibility: Recovery from Tech-
nological and Doctrinal Surprise on the Battlefield (Stanford, CA: Stanford
University Press, 2014), 106.

240
 28. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 478–512.
29. Helmuth Graf von Moltke, Moltke on the Art of War: Selected Writings,
ed. Daniel J. Hughes, trans. Daniel J. Hughes and Harry Bell (New York: Presi-
dio Press, 1996), 136.
30. Creveld, Command in War, 199.
31. Mordechai Gur, “The IDF: Continuity versus Innovation” Maarachot
(March 1978): 4–6, quoted in Creveld, 195.
32. Creveld, 197.
33. Eric Hammel, Six Days in June: How Israel Won the 1967 Arab-Israeli
War (New York: Macmillan Publishing, 1992), 107.
34. Creveld, Command in War, 197–98.
35. Hammel, Six Days in June, 108–9.
36. Hammel, 110.
37. Nadav Safran, Israel: The Embattled Ally (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1981), 242; Hammel, 142–43
38. Hammel, 428–30. The Israelis had no standing divisions but instead or-
ganized independent brigades into division-equivalent task forces called ugdas.
The term “division” is used here for the sake of simplicity.
39. Edgar O’Ballance, The Third Arab-Israeli War (Hamden, CT: Archon
Books, 1972), 100–1; Safran, Israel, 243.
40. Safran, 242–43.
41. Hammel, Six Days in June, 106; Safran, 243–45.
42. Hammel, 171.
43. Hammel, 171.
44. Hammel, 174–76; O’Ballance, Third Arab-Israeli War, 105–6.
45. Hammel, 174–76; O’Ballance, 105–6.
46. Hammel, 183–89.
47. O’Ballance, Third Arab-Israeli War, 111.
48. Hammel, Six Days in June, 190–201.
49. Hammel, 205–6.
50. Hammel, 208.
51. Hammel, 209–11.
52. Hammel, 212–15.
53. O’Ballance, Third Arab-Israeli War, 139.
54. Michael B. Oren, Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the
Modern Middle East (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 181.
55. George W. Gawrych, Key to the Sinai: The Battles for Abu Agheila in
the 1956 and 1967 Arab Israeli Wars (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies
Institute Press, 1990), 93–96.
56. Hammel, Six Days in June, 232–34.
57. Gawrych, Key to the Sinai, 103.
58. O’Ballance, Third Arab-Israeli War, 122–24.
59. Hammel, Six Days in June, 235-236; O’Ballance, 124.
60. O’Ballance, 124–25.
61. Hammel, Six Days in June, 232.
241
 62. Hammel, 237; O’Ballance, Third Arab-Israeli War, 124–25.
63. Gawrych, Key to the Sinai, 105.
64. Hammel, Six Days in June, 237–39.
65. Hammel, 239–41.
66. Stephen A. Bourque, Jayhawk! The VII Corps in the Persian Gulf War
(Washington, DC: US Army Center of Military History, 2002), 459.
67. Eitan Shamir, Transforming Command: The Pursuit of Mission Com-
mand in the U.S., British, and Israeli Armies (Stanford, CA: Stanford University
Press, 2011), 133–35.
68. Tom Clancy and Frederick M. Franks, Into the Storm: A Study in Com-
mand (New York: Berkley, 1998), 2.
69. Department of Defense, Conduct of the Persian Gulf War (Washington,
DC: 1992), 254. This estimate was revised downward after the war. See Anthony
H. Cordesman and Abraham R. Wagner, Lessons of Modern War, vol. IV, The
Gulf War (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996), 116.
70. Cordesman and Wagner, Lessons of Modern War, 116.
71. Department of Defense, Persian Gulf War, 253–54.
72. Peter Tsouras et al, “The Ground War” in Military Lessons of the Gulf
War, ed. Bruce W. Watson (Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1991), 90–91.
73. Clancy and Franks, Into the Storm, 2–3.
74. Clancy and Franks, 173.
75. Department of Defense, Persian Gulf War, 262–64.
76. Clancy and Franks, Into the Storm, 260–73.
77. Clancy and Franks, 274–76.
78. Clancy and Franks, 277–82.
79. Clancy and Franks, 255.
80. Clancy and Franks, 301.
81. Clancy and Franks, 297–300.
82. Clancy and Franks, 302–6.
83. Clancy and Franks, 306–11
84. Clancy and Franks, 311–13.
85. Clancy and Franks, 321–22
86. Clancy and Franks, 330–31.
87. Clancy and Franks, 348–53.
88. Clancy and Franks, 350–51.
89. Clancy and Franks, 354–55.
90. Clancy and Franks, 355.
91. H. R. McMaster, “10 Lessons from the Battle of 73 Easting,” The Na-
tional Interest (27 February 2016), http://nationalinterest.org/blog/the-buzz/10-
lessons-the-battle-73-easting-15332?page=4.
92. Department of Defense, Persian Gulf War, 279–80.
93. Department of Defense, 280–82.
94. Clancy and Franks, Into the Storm, 362.
95. Clancy and Franks, 401.
96. Clancy and Franks, 372–75.
242
 97. Clancy and Franks, 405.
98. Clancy and Franks, 393.
99. Clancy and Franks, 405–8.
100. Clancy and Franks, 408–16.
101. Department of Defense, Persian Gulf War, 286–88.
102. Clancy and Franks, Into the Storm, 421–22.
103. Clancy and Franks, 426–28.
104. Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf War
(New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1993), 450–72.
105. Creveld, Command in War, 268.
106. Moltke, Moltke on the Art of War, 10.
107. George S. Patton, War as I Knew It (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin
Company, 1947), 354.
108. Andrew Hill and Heath Niemi, “The Trouble with Mission Command:
Flexive Command and the Future of Command and Control,” Joint Forces
Quarterly 86 (July 2017): 97.
109. Department of the Army, ADRP 6-0, 2-4–2-5.
110. McMaster, “10 Lessons.”
111. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and
Peter Paret (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 117.
112. Department of the Army, ADRP 6-0, 1-4.
113. Frederick M. Franks, “Desert Jayhawk: Forming Teams and Getting
in Place to Fight” in Essential to Success: Historical Case Studies in the Art of
Command at Echelons Above Brigade, ed. Kelvin D. Crow and Joe R. Bailey
(Fort Leavenworth, KS: Army University Press, 2017) 191.
114. Creveld, Command in War, 266.

243
 Chapter 16
Mission Command and the Division Fight
Gregory M. Thomas

In recent years the US Army implemented two important changes to

its warfighting doctrine. First in 2011, the Army adopted mission com-
mand as a command philosophy. Second in 2017, the Army published an
updated version of its capstone doctrine manual, Field Manual (FM) 3-0,
Operations. These two events will serve as intellectual waypoints for the
Army as it internalizes the lessons from the campaigns in Afghanistan
and Iraq and simultaneously anticipates the challenges and unknowns of
the next war. This chapter discusses the philosophy of mission command
and its role in large-scale combat operations (LSCO). The first part of
this chapter explores mission command. The second part provides an un-
derstanding of how mission command is incorporated into LSCO. It also
examines the idea of initiative. This is an important discussion because
some organizations within the Army, while acknowledging the mission
command philosophy, have yet to fully incorporate it into their organiza-
tional culture.
Mission Command
In 2003, the US Army modified its approach to command and control.
Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Mission Command: Command and Control of
Army Forces, argued that historically a leader’s approach to command and
control generally fell along a spectrum. At one end was mission command,
an approach where command and control was decentralized, informal,
self-disciplined, and initiative-bound. Commanders who used this form of
command could expect to develop acceptable decisions in a faster man-
ner. At the other end of the spectrum was detailed command; command
and control was centralized and formal, and focused on imposing disci-
pline, enforcing obedience, expecting compliance, and reaching optimal
decisions later in the process. The main elements of mission command
were the commander’s intent, subordinates’ initiative, mission orders, and
resource allocation. Many officers agreed these ideas were mainly a re-
packaging of old ideas because command and control elements were rep-
resentative of good commanders throughout history.
In 2011, the Army changed its approach to command and control.
FM 6-0 introduced two new concepts of mission command. First, mis-
sion command was the Army’s command philosophy. The new definition

245
of mission command was “the exercise of authority and direction by the
commander using mission orders to enable disciplined initiative within
the commander’s intent to empower agile and adaptive leaders in the con-
duct of full spectrum operations. It is commander-led and blends the art
of command and the science of control to integrate the warfighting func-
tions to accomplish the mission.”1 This philosophy was intended to guide
commanders in initiating and integrating all actions and military functions
toward mission accomplishment.
The second idea FM 6-0 introduced was that mission command was
also a warfighting function. Army warfighting functions are “a group of
tasks and systems (people, organizations, information, and processes)
united by a common purpose that commanders use to accomplish missions
and training objectives.”2 The six warfighting functions are: intelligence,
movement and maneuver, fires, protection, sustainment, and mission com-
mand. The 2011 version of FM 6-0 additionally explained that mission
command was exercised through blending the art of command with the
science of control. Thus, the new manual somewhat clumsily modified the
definitions of mission command and command and control, and replaced
the command and control warfighting function with the mission command
warfighting function.
In 2012, less than a year after the release of FM 6-0, the Army up-
dated its operational concept from “full spectrum operations” to “unified
land operations.” This change necessitated an update of all subordinate
doctrinal publications. Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP) 6-0,
Mission Command, the US Army’s keystone reference on the philosophy
of mission command, shortened the definition of mission command to “the
exercise of authority and direction by the commander using mission orders
to enable disciplined initiative within the commander’s intent to empower
agile and adaptive leaders in the conduct of unified land operations.”3 This
change simplified the definition and added clarity to the concept. In the
introduction of ADRP 6-0, the authors noted that the command philosophy
traced its roots back to German concept of Auftragstaktik.
Auftragstaktik
Auftragstaktik is a German military term that roughly translates to
mission-type tactics. While the definition has evolved over the centuries,
it is a concept that empowers subordinates to make decisions and take
advantage of windows of opportunity arising from the inherent confusion
of the battlefield, even if those decisions are contrary to the predetermined
plan and current orders. This idea of personal initiative started with Fred-

246
erick William I, king of Prussia. This mid-seventeenth century king fought
several campaigns during the Thirty Years War. Prussia during this time
was a patchwork of territories, many of which did not share borders. The
nobility who ruled the isolated portions of the kingdom for the king con-
sidered their independence of action a natural-born right in the age of ab-
solute monarchical rule.4 This idea of independence of action, or initiative,
is a fundamental element of Auftragstaktik and traces its roots back to this
Prussian political concept.
William Frederick’s grandson, Frederick II (Frederick the Great) had
grander ideas for his scattered kingdom. He fought a series of wars that
eventually unified and expanded his realm. During these wars, Frederick’s
commanders were guided by the idea of Auftragstaktik. One of the most
famous examples of this independence of action occurred during the battle
of Zorndorf in 1758. At a critical moment in the battle Frederick ordered
his cavalry commander, Fredrick von Seydlitz, to charge the enemy’s right
flank. Seydlitz refused and sent word back to the king that the timing was
wrong. Upon hearing Seydlitz’s refusal, Frederick sent the courier back
with a second order to attack or risk being relieved of command or even be-
ing executed. Seydlitz’s response is now legendary: “Tell the king that after
the battle my head is at his disposal, but meantime I hope he will permit me
to exercise it in his service.”5 Seydlitz delayed his attack until the decisive
moment, something Frederick could not see from his vantage point, and
then committed his cavalry squadrons to secure victory for the Prussians.
After Frederick’s death, the Prussian army’s flexible command struc-
ture ossified. By the time of the Napoleonic wars, the only legacy that
remained of Frederick’s once-great army was the strict discipline of its
soldiers. In 1806, Napoleon destroyed the Prussian army at the twin battles
of Jena and Auerstadt, and forced the kingdom into a one-sided alliance.
Chafing under French rule, Prussia enacted several domestic reforms.
Some of these changes allowed greater freedoms for Prussian subjects
and legal curtailments of the monarchy. Other changes were concentrat-
ed on the military. Military reformers like Gerhard Scharnhorst, August
Gneisenau, and Carl von Clausewitz instituted organizational and training
improvements that would eventually help defeat Napoleon. Their educa-
tional reforms blossomed over the years and by mid-century the Prussian
army dominated Europe.
Two of the most important Prussian military reforms centered on ed-
ucation and training. The Prussians were the first to establish a modern
general staff school. This school professionalized the art of war. The army
assigned graduates of this school throughout the force and standardized
247
the process of staff planning and organizational structure. They became
an alternate brain for the commander and institutionalized military pro-
fessionalism. The second significant contribution was the re-introduction
of what would become known as the concept of Auftragstaktik. In the up-
dated version, the prerogative of independent action and initiative was no
longer reserved for just the nobility and senior commanders. The concept
of initiative was now instilled into the army at all levels.6
The wars of German unification between 1864 and 1871 united the
disparate German states under the Prussian monarchy and created modern
Germany. These Prussian victories enabled the declaration of the German
Empire, with the King of Prussia also being crowned the kaiser, or emper-
or. These political changes were enabled by the tactical superiority of the
Prussian army and the strategic brilliance of Otto von Bismarck. Decades
of training and education had built the best army in Europe. During the
wars, the chief of staff of the Prussian army was Helmuth von Moltke.
He believed that the concept of Auftragstaktik was a key component of
the army’s repeated victories in the wars. To emphasize his belief, Moltke
repeatedly told a story about visiting the headquarters of Prince Frederick
Charles to observe training:
A major, receiving a tongue-lashing from the prince for a tacti-
cal blunder, offered the excuse that he had been obeying orders,
and reminded the prince that a Prussian officer was taught that an
order from a superior was tantamount to an order from the King.
Frederick Charles promptly responded: “His majesty made you
a major because he believed you would know when not to obey
his orders.” This simple story became guidance for all following
generations of German officers.7
The idea of Auftragstaktik took decades to evolve through deliberate train-
ing and education. Not all German commanders were disciples of the no-
tion. One of the reasons Moltke repeatedly told the above story was an
attempt to inspire old and new generations of leaders that initiative was a
necessity in modern combat.
Warfare has changed dramatically since the mid-nineteenth century,
but friction and uncertainty still reign on the battlefield. The US Army’s
philosophy of mission command is heavily influenced by the Prussian/
German idea of Auftragstaktik and is an attempt to operate inside the chaos
of battle instead of trying to control the chaos. The principles of mission
command are the conceptual building blocks of the philosophy and help
describe the vision of how the idea is to be implemented.

248
Principles of Mission Command
Mission command was developed to help Army forces function more
effectively in accomplishing its missions. The six principles of mission
command are: build cohesive teams, shared understanding, commander’s
intent, mission orders, acceptance of prudent risk, and disciplined initia-
tive. The blending of these principles helps commanders mitigate the un-
certainty of combat by lessening the amount of certainty needed to act.
Combat is chaotic. Commanders understand that during this chaos, some
situations require rapid decisions at the point of action. The mission com-
mand philosophy is predicated on mutual trust, a shared understanding,
and comprehension of the purpose of the operation by the commander,
subordinates, and staff. It demands that all soldiers be prepared to accept
responsibility, preserve the unity of effort, execute prudent action, and per-
form with alacrity inside the framework of the commander’s intent.8
ADRP 6-0 emphasizes that cohesive teams are built on mutual trust
between commanders, subordinates, and partners. This effort takes time,
because trust must be earned by both leaders and followers. Trust is based
on shared experiences and daily interactions as opposed to occasional or
grandiose gestures. For mission command to work, trust must flow up and
down the chain of command. With trust, commanders can delegate greater
authority to their subordinates. If subordinates believe they have the trust
of their commander, they will be more willing to exercise initiative.
Shared understanding helps focus the organization. The commander,
along with the staff, frames the operational environment and identifies the
problems the unit must overcome. An important aspect of this process is
collaboration between the commander and the staff. This process enables
the commander to develop a clear commander’s intent.
The commander’s intent is a clear and concise statement that ex-
plains the broader purpose, key tasks, and end state of an operation. It is
written personally by the commander. It should be easily remembered by
all members of the unit and usually only three to five sentences long. It is
the commander’s vision of the operation and enables the staff to develop
various courses of action during planning. During execution, it empow-
ers subordinates to act with initiative inside the framework envisioned
by the commander.
Mission orders are very similar to the types of written orders the Ger-
mans utilized in Auftragstaktik. They are short command orders assigning
tasks, apportioning resources, and dispensing broad guidance to the com-
mander’s subordinates. These orders focus on what the subordinate is ex-
249
pected to accomplish instead of how to it is to be accomplished. This does
not mean commanders do not supervise subordinates. However, it does
mean that the commander is responsible for monitoring the situation, pro-
viding direction and guidance, and shifting priorities and resources during
the battle to accomplish the mission.
Another important role of the commander is to assess the risks of a
given course of action. Risk is inherent in all forms of combat. The com-
mander accepts prudent risk by weighing the potential of casualties against
the cost of accomplishing the mission. Commanders strive to create op-
portunities instead of just trying to prevent defeat. By accepting risk in one
area, a commander may create an opportunity in another area. This danger
is usually mitigated to a degree but can never be fully eliminated. Risk is
not to be confused with gambling. Gambling is the act of hazarding the
success of the entire operation on a single event.
The last, and most important, principle of mission command is dis-
ciplined initiative. Disciplined initiative is the spark animating the other
principles of mission command. The other principles have the luxury of
having a format taught and understood throughout the US Army. Mission
orders and the commander’s intent have a specific definition and structure
recognized throughout the Army. Risk has an entire manual dedicated to
the process. The other two principles—building cohesive teams and creat-
ing a shared understanding—take place under the direct supervision of the
commander. However, disciplined initiative does not have a format and
does not take place under the watchful eye of the commander. By defini-
tion, it occurs away from the commander and, in many ways, is the most
challenging to train and educate.
Initiative
Research over the last two decades has highlighted the importance of
subordinates to exercise personal initiative. Most of this research emerged
from the fields of human behavior and business. The principle findings of
these studies identified several important aspects about personal initiative.
First, initiative can be encouraged by the culture and operations of an or-
ganization.9 Second, initiative can be improved with education, coaching
and mentoring.10 Third, style of leadership has an impact on the quality
and quantity of initiative.11 Fourth, personal initiative can improve orga-
nizational performance.12 Lastly, there is a core set of characteristics that
describe personal initiative.
The scholar with the most cogent and informed definition of personal
initiative is Michael Frese. Professor Frese is a world-renowned research-
250
er who has investigated a wide range of areas in the fields of organization-
al behavior and work psychology. His research has produced a compre-
hensive definition that explains personal initiative as characterized by five
aspects: “(1) is consistent with the organization’s mission, (2) has a long-
term focus, (3) is goal-directed and action-oriented, (4) is persistent in
the face of barriers and setbacks, and (5) is self-starting and proactive.”13
Frese’s definition brings accuracy and precision to the theory of personal
initiative. This is important because the Army places initiative in a cen-
tral role in its new philosophy of mission command. However, the Army
uses the standard definition of initiative and has not critically examined
different aspects of this phenomenon. Since the Army places a premium
on initiative, it is critical for its leaders to gain a deeper and more nuanced
understanding of the concept and its role in the US Army’s philosophy of
mission command.
The six principles of mission command nest well with Frese’s defi-
nition of personal initiative. The first three aspects of his definition (con-
sistency with the organization’s mission, long-term focus, and need for
goal-directed and action-oriented leaders) all have direct linkages to the
mission command principle of commander’s intent, which consists of
broader purpose, key tasks, and end state. The remaining two aspects of
Frese’s definition—persistence and proactivity—are individual attributes
that leaders can encourage in their subordinates through leadership style
and command climate.
A noteworthy example of initiative that highlights the ideas of com-
mander’s intent, leadership style, and command climate occurred in the
early part of World War II. In May 1940, the German Army invaded
France. The XIX Panzer Corps, commanded by Lt. Gen. Heinz Guderian,
had the mission to cross the Meuse River near the town of Sedan and es-
tablish a bridgehead for follow-on forces. Guderian planned to accomplish
this by assaulting with three panzer divisions abreast. The center division,
1st Panzer Division commanded by Maj. Gen. Friedrich Kirchner, was
the main effort. The 1st Rifle Regiment, commanded by Lt. Col. Hermann
Balck, was one of two units that led the assault in the 1st Panzer Divi-
sion’s sector. Guderian’s assault did not start well. The division on the
right of the 1st Panzer in its first effort failed to cross the river. Initially,
the division on the left only maneuvered one engineer assault team across.
The 1st Panzer’s assault teams crossed successfully and expanded their
bridgehead, eventually enabling the rest of the corps to cross. The infantry
and engineer units started crossing at 1600 on 13 May. The Panzer units

251
did not commence crossing until the next morning. During this period, the
German infantry units were vulnerable to French counterattacks.14
This critical juncture highlights the importance of the commander’s
intent, leadership style, and command climate. By the evening of 13 May,
Balck’s 1st Regiment had seized its initial objective, Hill 301, which dom-
inated the crossing area. Balck, fearing a French counterattack would
threaten the entire bridgehead, made a bold decision: he would continue
the attack another six miles to seize the town of Chermey. This attack
would be conducted without armor, artillery, or anti-tank support from
the division. Balck understood the commander’s intent of establishing a
bridgehead. He also understood the Germans were attempting an opera-
tional breakthrough of the French defenses. Balck seized Chermey with-
out a fight. This added depth to the bridgehead and compelled French forc-
es in his area to withdraw for fear of being enveloped.15 Balck’s initiative
was rewarded when the next morning his regiment helped delay a French
counterattack long enough for German panzers units to arrive and defeat
the French.
Balck also operated in a command climate and under a leadership
style that enabled initiative. Months of intensive training developed a
strong level of trust up and down the corps chain of command. This is
reflected in a humorous story. Balck crossed the Meuse in the first wave
of assault boats. Guderian was commanding the corps well forward and
crossed in the second wave. When Balck saw Guderian, he reminded him
that “joy riding in canoes on the Meuse is forbidden”16 This was in ref-
erence to a remark Guderian had made during a map exercise before the
operation. This anecdote is a small but important indicator of the trust that
had grown among the leaders over months of training and the first few
days of the campaign. The operation of the XIX Panzer Corps at Sedan is
a good example of how the principles of mission command are critical for
success in the chaos of battle. These principles are important at any level
of command, but they take on an increased importance in large formations.
The Division Fight
The Army has been focused on operations in Afghanistan and Iraq
for more than sixteen years. In that period, the larger global operational
environment has changed. China continued to modernize its military and
took an increasingly bellicose stance in the Western Pacific. Russia in-
vaded Crimea and Ukraine, and has forces in Syria. North Korea and Iran
also increased their military power. Despite these changes, the perceptions
and views of warfare of a generation of American military leaders have

252
been shaped by their experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq. In recognition
of this, the new FM 3-0 offers solutions to shift the Army culture from
“regularly scheduled deployments of brigade combat teams . . . to conduct
counterinsurgency operations (COIN) from static bases against enemies
with limited military capabilities” to LSCO.17 FM 3-0 formally introduces
some new ideas such as multi-domain battle and consolidation of gains,
but the central focus is on large-scale ground combat at brigade, division,
and corps level. This re-introduction of LSCO, combined with the philoso-
phy of mission command, requires Army leaders to reevaluate their views
on initiative.
As an organization, the Army has a rather schizophrenic view of ini-
tiative. It is much like the idea expressed in the fictional exchange between
General Allenby and T. E. Lawrence from the movie Lawrence of Arabia:
General Allenby: You acted without orders, you know.
T. E. Lawrence: Shouldn’t officers use their initiative at all times?
General Allenby: Not really. It’s awfully dangerous.18
Theoretically, initiative is a good thing, but in some cases it can be
quite dangerous. The Army’s doctrine explains that disciplined initiative is
a critical principle of mission command. However, it still spends millions
of dollars on information technology to track individual vehicles on the
battlefield, maintain instant communication with the lowest echelon, and
have live video feeds of engagements piped into command posts. These
are three small examples of a trend indicating a reliance on technology to
bring order to chaos instead of training and educating leaders to operate
inside of chaos. They serve to demonstrate that in most organizations, a
headquarters’ desire for information is insatiable; modern technology al-
lows commanders to suddenly reach down to the smallest units of their
command. The new FM 3-0 depicts a different operational environment
that stresses current systems of control to the breaking point and may force
leaders to rely on the exercise of initiative instead of micromanagement.
This new operational environment contains peer and near-peer adver-
saries who seek to diminish American advantages such as air superiori-
ty, secure communications, modern equipment, and quality training. The
chief of staff of the Army, Gen. Mark Milley, described this atmosphere:
With sensors everywhere, the probability of being seen is very
high. And as always, if you can be seen, you will be hit. And you
will be hit fast, with precision or dumb munitions, but either way
you’ll be dead. So that means just to survive, our formations,

253
 whatever the wire diagram looks like, will likely have to be small.
They will have to move constantly. They will have to aggregate
and disaggregate rapidly. They’ll have to employ every known
technique of cover and concealment.
In a future battlefield, if you stay in one place for longer than
two or three hours, you’ll be dead. That obviously places demand
on human endurance, on equipment, but I can guarantee you the
days of Victory Base, the days of Bagram or other static locations
for comfort or command and control, will no longer exist on a
future battlefield against a high-end threat. That fact requires a
significant change in our current methods of thinking, training,
and fighting.19
In this type of environment, the division will be the building block of
Army operations. While the corps has four primary roles, its least likely
role is to perform as a tactical headquarters. The brigade combat team is too
small to be decisive in large-scale ground combat operations as currently
envisioned. The division has the requisite balance of flexibility and com-
bat power to be effective. It is the first echelon that can plan and conduct
offense, defense, and stability tasks simultaneously. The authors of FM 3-0
also explain that “the division is the first echelon able to effectively plan
and coordinate the employment of all multi-domain capabilities across the
operational framework.”20 Lastly, the division’s first primary role is to act
as a tactical headquarters. Initiative should exist at all levels in the Army,
but it is at the tactical level of warfare where initiative has the greatest im-
pact. Thus how the division and more precisely the division commander,
enables initiative inside the formation is of paramount importance.
The division commander promotes initiative in various ways across
the unit. The six principles of mission command are essential to building
and disseminating trust throughout the organization. As described earlier,
the hardest of the six principles to implement (and arguably the most criti-
cal) is disciplined initiative. The three most important ways the command-
er enables disciplined initiative are through leadership style, command
climate, and commander’s intent. These three ideas are inextricably linked
and symbiotic. If one improves, the other two will also improve. But if one
worsens, the other two will also be impaired.
Certain styles of leadership enhance initiative, which directly influ-
ences an organization’s command climate. There are various styles of
leadership. The Army does not recognize one style as better than the oth-
ers. Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP) 6-22, Leadership, does

254
reference a process for managing change in which transformational lead-
ership is the catalyst. The first part of this chapter discussed that leader-
ship style directly affects innovation. Research indicates transformational
leaders seem to get higher levels of qualitative creativity while transac-
tional leaders gain higher levels of quantitative creativity from members.
The same concept can be applied to initiative. Transformational leadership
traits best nest with the principles of mission command, especially when
inspiring initiative.
The commander also establishes the command climate in the organi-
zation. Creating a constructive atmosphere enables initiative to permeate
throughout the formation. This type of atmosphere builds increased levels
of trust—empowering subordinates to make decisions, take risks, and im-
prove organizational performance. Leadership style and command climate
frame the activity of the entire organization and enable initiative. The most
important tool for commanders to use in describing their vision is the com-
mander’s intent.
The commander’s intent is a concise and proven tool that guides sub-
ordinate leaders in the exercise of disciplined initiative. It provides di-
rection for synchronizing and integrating the force at the decisive place
and time. At the division level, the intent is aimed at the commanders of
brigades and separate battalions task-organized to the division. The intent
enables these subordinate commanders to understand the division com-
mander’s vision of the operation, and to operate with speed and exercise
initiative inside that conceptual framework.
An example from Operation Iraqi Freedom helps demonstrate the three
ways a division commander can enable disciplined initiative. On 7 April
2003, 2nd Brigade Combat Team (BCT) of the 3rd Infantry Division con-
ducted a “thunder run,” or armor raid, into downtown Baghdad. The brigade
had executed a similar mission into Saddam Hussein International Airport
two days prior. This first operation was a success. The airport raid lasted
a few hours, destroyed thirty to forty vehicles, a network of bunkers, and
numerous artillery and anti-aircraft pieces; and inflicted several hundred ca-
sualties on the enemy. However, in the aftermath, Iraqi propaganda claimed
victory because the American forces did not remain on the airport.21
The 3rd Infantry Division commander, Maj. Gen. Buford Blount, along
with the V Corps commander, Lt. Gen. William Wallace, observed the suc-
cess of the raid and wanted to conduct a similar mission with a larger force
to maintain pressure on the Iraqi forces and prevent them from re-estab-
lishing a coherent defense. They agreed to send Col. David Perkins’s full

255
2nd Brigade back into Baghdad on a second “thunder run” on 7 April. The
objective of this attack into the city was to seize a key highway intersec-
tion and then again withdraw back to the American lines. Wallace ordered
the raid “to render the regime ‘irrelevant,’ causing it to collapse and thus
free Iraq from the dictatorship.”22 As Perkins prepared for the mission, he
developed a plan that was nested with his higher commander’s purpose but
exceeded the specified task contained in the division commander’s intent.
Perkins’s plan was to use two armor task forces to seize the presidential
palace complex on the Tigris River. This objective was farther northeast
and deeper into the city than the objective assigned to the brigade from
the division. Additionally, Perkins used an infantry task force to secure the
brigade’s line of communication (LOC) by controlling three key intersec-
tions along the highway. This plan was predicated on four conditions: if
the brigade could fight its way to the objectives, seize the correct terrain,
secure the LOC, and effectively resupply the unit. If these conditions were
met, then Perkins intended to retain the terrain he had seized rather than
return to US lines as his commander had ordered.
The timing of Perkins’s decision to turn toward the presidential pal-
ace complex and remain there is uncertain. One Army history artfully de-
scribes “the reporting is not fully clear on the sequence of events for this
decision.”23 Another account of the event based on interviews with Wal-
lace, Blount, and Perkins explains:
Blount had his operations center pass the word to Perkin’s 2nd
BCT: attack to the intersections and then pull out. Perkins would
not stay in the city. It would be an in-and-out raid, nothing more,
nothing less. “Wallace said, ‘Don’t go to stay. We are not ready to
go to the palace yet,’” Blount recalled. “I am sure the division told
the brigade to just go to the intersections and seize them. I always
thought Perkins understood to stop at the intersections.”24
The same history later describes “Perkins had given a barebones de-
scription of how he planned to conduct the mission inside his battlespace.
To minimize the chances that the division would limit his options, Perkins
had downplayed just how ambitious an operation he had in mind.”25
Regardless, Wallace first noticed Perkins’s deviation from the plan on
his Blue Force Tracker. Shortly thereafter, Blount consulted with Wallace
and explained Perkins believed the situation allowed for this line of attack.
Later, Blount informed Wallace that Perkins had occupied defensible ter-
rain and wanted to remain in Baghdad. After confirming Perkins had in fact
secured his LOC and resupply, Wallace agreed with Blount and Perkins.
256
Figure 16.1. The 2nd Brigade Combat Team “Thunder Run” on 7 April 2003. From
Gregory Fontenot, E. J. Degen, and David Tohn, On Point: The United States Army in
Operation Iraqi Freedom (Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2004).

While his superiors were debating his actions, Perkins was in an in-
tense fight. The two armor task forces fought their way to the objective
area and then fought off numerous Iraqi counterattacks. The infantry task
force was in constant contact at three main intersections on the LOC but
was running low on fuel and ammunition. To make matters worse, the
brigade tactical operations center (TOC) was destroyed by either a rocket
or missile. After a series of heroic actions and combat improvisations, the
TOC was reestablished; but its abilities were severely degraded. The bri-
gade’s resupply convoy was delayed due to fighting around the LOC. This
fight was so intense that the division commander moved a battalion from
another brigade and the division cavalry squadron to help secure the route.
Once the resupply convoy reached the palace complex, Perkins decided he

257
had met the criteria to hold his positions. This second “thunder run” had
effectively “broke the back of the conventional resistance and arguably of
the regime.”26
This combat narrative highlights several important aspects of initia-
tive in division operations. First, it is obvious that Major General Blount
practiced a leadership style that empowered his subordinate commanders
to accept risk and exercise initiative in decision-making. Blount also had
developed a command climate that enabled trust throughout the organi-
zation. This was evident by his monitoring of the 2nd BCT’s 7 April at-
tack and deciding to support his subordinate commander even as Perkins
deviated from the division’s plan. Blount underwrote his subordinate’s
decisions with his own commander, Lieutenant General Wallace, and re-
inforced the attack with additional units when Perkins’s LOC was threat-
ened. Lastly, the three commanders were working with trust to take pru-
dent risks and exercise initiative all within the commander’s intent. While
not referring to this particular case, General Milley would later refer to the
idea of empowering subordinates to “disobey a specific order, a specified
task, in order to accomplish the purpose” as “disciplined disobedience.”27
The story of Colonel Perkins’s 2nd BCT “thunder run” is a story of
modern combat and the ideals of mission command, especially initiative.
American leaders use this story to emphasize the principles of mission com-
mand in much the same way that Moltke used his story about how majors
should know when to disobey orders. Both these stories are powerful allego-
ries that help explain the complexities of the mission command philosophy.
Conclusion
This chapter examined the ideas of mission command and large-scale
combat operations, specifically division operations. The discussion high-
lighted mission command principles, its evolution, and how initiative is
positioned in that philosophy. The chapter also framed the challenges of
division operations. Mission command, as a philosophy, is a bold and nec-
essary statement for the US Army. The current operational environment
demands a paradigm shift in the way the Army thinks about war. The doc-
trine and tools are on hand to implement this paradigm shift. The time to
implement this theory is now, before the next major war. The only real
question remaining is whether the Army has the will to truly embrace all
the principles of mission command, especially disciplined initiative, into
division operations. Only time will tell.

258
 Notes
1. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Mission Command
(Washington, DC: 2011), 1-2.
2. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
3-0, Operations (Washington, DC: 2017), 5-2.
3. Department of the Army, Army Doctrine Reference Publication (ADRP)
6-0, Mission Command (Washington, DC: 2012), 1-1.
4. Robert M. Citino, The German Way of War: From the Thirty Years’ War
to the Third Reich (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2005), 32.
5. Citino, 100.
6. Trevor N. Depuy, A Genius for War: The German Army and General
Staff, 1807–1945 (Garden City, NY: Military Book Club, 1977), 116.
7. Depuy, 116.
8. Department of the Army, ADRP 6-0, 2-1.
9. Michael Frese et al., “Personal Initiative at Work: Differences between
East and West Germany,” Academy of Management Journal 39, no. 1 (February
1996): 55.
10. Matthias E. Glaub et al., “Increasing Personal Initiative in Small Busi-
ness Managers or Owners Leads to Entrepreneurial Success: A Theory-Based
Controlled Randomized Field Intervention for Evidence-Based Management,”
Academy of Management Learning & Education 13, no. 3 (September 2014): 40.
11. Daniel Herrmann and Jorg Felfe, “Effects of Leadership Style, Creativi-
ty Technique and Personal Initiative on Employee Creativity,” British Journal of
Management 25, no. 2 (April 2014): 222.
12. Stephan J. Motowidlo and James R. Van Scotter, “Evidence that Task
Performance should be distinguished from Contestual Performance,” Journal of
Applied Psychology 79, no. 4 (August 1994): 479.
13. Frese, “Personal Initiative at Work,” 38.
14. Karl-Heinz Frieser, The Blitzkrieg Legend: The 1940 Campaign in the
West (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), 174.
15. F. W. von Mellenthin, Panzer Battles: A Study of the Employment of
Armor in the Second World War (New York: Ballantine Books, 1956), 15.
16. Heinz Guderian, Panzer Leader (Washington, DC: Zenger Publishing,
1979), 102.
17. Mike Lundy and Rich Creed, “The Return of U.S. Army Field Manual
3-0, Operations,” Military Review 97, no. 6 (November 2017): 15.
18. Lawrence of Arabia, directed by David Lean (1962; Culver City, CA:
Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2012), DVD.
19. Mark A. Milley, “Statement to AUSA Members about the Future of the
United States Army” (presentation, Association of the US Army Eisenhower
Luncheon, 4 October 2016).
20. Lundy and Creed, “The Return of U.S. Army Field Manual 3-0, Opera-
tions,” 16.

259
 21. David Zucchino, Thunder Run: The Armored Strike to Capture Baghdad
(New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2004), 66.
22. Gregory Fontenot, E. J. Degen, and David Tohn, On Point: The United
States Army in Operation Iraqi Freedom (Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies
Institute Press, 2004), 348.
23. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, 349.
24. Michael R. Gordon and Bernard E. Trainor, Cobra II: The Inside Story
of the Invasion and Occupation of Iraq (New York: Pantheon Books, 2006), 394.
25. Gordon and Trainor, 395.
26. Fontenot, Degen, and Tohn, On Point, 372.
27. Sydney J. Freedberg, “Let Leaders off the Electronic Leash: CSA Mil-
ley,” Breaking Defense (5 May 2017).

260
 Chapter 17
Interoperability in Large-Scale Combat Operations
Albert C. Stahl

If the premise is true that the United States will never fight alone again,
then we must come to grips with the reality and the interoperability chal-
lenge for tactical formations from different countries. Joint and multination-
al interoperability will be a component of any future contingency operation
in which the United States participates as a leader or member of the coali-
tion.1 Chief of Staff of the Army (CSA) Gen. Mark A. Milley commented in
a Center for Strategic & International Studies interview that his desire for
interoperability is to solve three main challenges with both joint force and
multinational/coalition operations: digital call for fires, secure voice com-
munications, and providing a digital common operating picture (COP).2
Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations, the current capstone doctrinal
manual of the US Army, does not offer a clear definition of interoperabil-
ity. Within FM 3-0, interoperability is addressed in terms of “ensuring,”
“training,” and “working” with multinational/unified action partners. In
fact, interoperability is only briefly noted:
An additional consideration is interoperability of forces. Interop-
erability is often measured by the ability of multinational for-
mations to execute secure communications, process digital fire
missions, and share a common operational picture. Army forces
train with unified action partners to ensure interoperability. Work-
ing with unified action partners is critical to the Army’s ability to
build credible deterrence in any theater. Planners must consider
procedural systems that facilitate interoperability when technical
capabilities are not compatible.3
The US Army Mission Command Center of Excellence (MCCoE)
at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, is the Army’s lead proponent for defining
interoperability. This includes addressing the CSA’s big three multi-fac-
eted dilemmas to ensure we can “fight tonight” both as a joint force and
with our multinational partners. MCCoE was tasked to work on this topic
through the US Army Capabilities Integration Center (ARCIC). In 2015,
ARCIC was directed by Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster who identified eighteen
enduring Army warfighting challenges (AWFC). These challenges are de-
fined as enduring first-order problems, the solutions to which will improve
the combat effectiveness of the current and future force.4 In short, ARCIC
is synchronizing the efforts of the entire Army to emphasize the eighteen
261
challenges to ensure success in the event the United States and its partners
fight tonight or in the near or distant future. MCCoE was tasked with the
lead for AWFC 14: Ensure interoperability and operate in a joint, inter-
organizational, and multinational environment. What the MCCoE was es-
sentially tasked to ascertain was how to conduct cross-domain maneuver
across multiple domains to defeat enemy organizations and accomplish
missions in complex operational environments.5
The purpose of this chapter is to describe interoperability in current
doctrinal terms and illuminate interoperability friction points, then briefly
discuss the levels of interoperability. The reader will gain an understand-
ing of how the Army, as part of the Joint Force, approaches interoper-
ability. While Army doctrinal publications have not specifically defined
interoperability, it is defined in Army Regulation (AR) 34-1 published in
July 2015.6 This AR addresses multinational force interoperability (MFI)
and dictates interoperability policy:
The policy of the Army is to develop MFI to enhance the Army’s
capability to support US national defense and military strategic
goals, which includes operating effectively with some, although
not necessarily all allies, coalition partners, and other armies
across the full range of military operations. MFI will be one factor
considered and supported as part of Army planning, programming,
budgeting, and execution (PPBE); force design; force structure;
doctrine; training; weapon systems and materiel requirements;
research, development, and acquisition; information and data pro-
cesses for analysis and assessments; materiel management; and
logistics support processes. Additionally, changes in the security
environment have created opportunities for the U.S. to strengthen
its alliances as some foreign partners build capability. However,
some of these opportunities to increase interoperability may be
offset as some allies and foreign partners divest themselves of
military capacities or capabilities. To support Army MFI policy,
Army organizations must have the structure and capability to de-
fine proposed requirements for and participate in required MFI ac-
tivities. See Department of the Army Pamphlet (DA Pam) 11–31
for a methodology to achieve interoperability.7
AR 34-1 further defines interoperability as “the ability of the forces of
two or more nations to train, exercise, and operate effectively together in
the execution of assigned missions and tasks and the ability to act together
coherently, effectively, and efficiently to achieve Allied tactical, operation-
al, and strategic objectives.”8 However, this has now been superseded by
262
an agreement between Headquarters, Department of the Army (HQDA),
and MCCoE and is now defined as:
[T]he ability to routinely act together coherently, effectively, and
efficiently to achieve tactical, operational, and strategic objec-
tives. Interoperability between disparate forces allows coalitions
to produce greater combat power than the sum of their parts by le-
veraging relative strengths while mitigating relative weaknesses.9
This new and agreed-upon Army definition nests with Department
of Defense and Joint Forces definitions of interoperability, which are
identical. Both define interoperability as “the ability to act together co-
herently, effectively, and efficiently to achieve tactical, operational, and
strategic objectives.”10
As the lead proponent for AWFC 14, MCCoE coordinated and wrote
HQDA EXORD 293-17 to create common terms for use in the field. This
EXORD clearly defines the levels of interoperability as benchmarks that
can be acknowledged between Army, Joint, and coalition forces. These
levels are:
• Level 0-not interoperable. Partner is not interoperable with the Army,
C2 interface with the Army is only at the next higher level, and formations
must operate independently from US Army formations and operations.
• Level 1-deconflicted. US Army can coexist with key allies and part-
ners but forces cannot interact together. This level requires alignment of
capabilities and procedures to establish operational norms, enabling mul-
tinational partners to complement US Army operations.
• Level 2-compatible. US Army is able to interact with key allies and
partners in the same geographic area in pursuit of a common goal. Multi-
national partners have similar or complementary processes and procedures
and are able to operate.
• Level 3-integrated. US Army is able to integrate with key allies and
partners upon arrival in theater. Interoperability is network-enabled to
provide full interoperability. Multinational partners are able to routinely
establish networks and operate effectively alongside, or as part of, US
Army formations.11
An important skill for US Army commanders and staffs is the ability to
understand the “aspirations” of multi-national units when working inside a
coalition and their capabilities. Observations by multiple lessons learned
collection teams during two large-scale US Army Europe (USAREUR)
training exercises—Anakonda 16 and Saber Guardian 17—provided in-
263
sightful feedback on planning and conducting coalition/multinational op-
erations. The Chief of Operations Group at the Joint Multinational Readi-
ness Center (JMRC), after observing many interoperability activities, had
the following to say:
We must differentiate between multinational partners who “have
capability,” those who “want capability,” others who are “willing
to accept some basic capability,” and finally those multi-national
partners “unwilling to change their capability.” This should not be
a discriminatory or punitive list, as operations will have to be held
with MN [multinational] partners who have a wide range of in-
teroperability levels. However, US forces need to be careful about
the time and effort expended trying to build a picture with those
MN partners who are unable or unwilling to put forth the neces-
sary effort to help all parties maintain situational awareness.12
US national strategy is definitive in stating that US armed forces will sel-
dom, if ever, fight alone. Consequently, joint service and multinational
force interoperability must become a fundamental consideration in how
the Army prepares to “fight tonight and fight tomorrow.”13

Figure 17.1. Levels of Interoperability. From Patrick Davis, “Army Warfighting

Challenge 14” (information paper, Fort Leavenworth, KS, January 2018).
264
 As stated earlier, MCCoE is the lead agency charged with promoting
the idea that interoperability is not an afterthought. Joint and Army plan-
ners must have the established doctrine and/or tactics, techniques, and pro-
cedures (TTPs) to both understand the nuances of joint and multinational
interoperability, and subsequently use Joint or Army planning processes to
identify interoperability friction points in order to write orders that miti-
gate these friction points and enhance interoperability. The Army Vision
further describes interoperability as one of eight key characteristics of the
Army of 2025:
As the foundation upon which other US, allied, and multinational
capabilities will operate, the Army of 2025 must be interoperable
by easily supporting and enabling joint, whole-of-government,
and multinational land-based operations. We must develop and
advance a base technological architecture into which other mili-
tary services, US government agencies, and allies and partners can
easily “plug and play.”14
The Army continues to focus on improving, enhancing, and inculcat-
ing interoperability throughout its formations. Much work is being done
by Fort Leavenworth’s Center for Army Lessons Learned (CALL), which
expends significant resources in observing and capturing interoperabili-
ty issues and best practices. CALL produces and publishes these lessons
learned onto its website, which provides commanders and staffs with nu-
merous handbooks and leader guides in digital format for use in “step 1,
receipt of mission” in the military decision-making process. Additionally,
CALL developed the 2005 American, British, Canadian, and Australian
Armies (ABCA) Coalition Operations Handbook and 2017 American,
British, Canadian, and Australian, and New Zealand Armies (ABCANZA)
Coalition Operations Handbook. These coalition operations handbooks
(COH) provide coalition commanders and staffs with general information
on important topics necessary for conducting coalition operations. De-
signed primarily for US, United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and New
Zealand army audiences, they primarily provide questions that coalition
partners need to ask to improve the effectiveness and efficiency of the
coalition to accomplish its assigned missions. They also offer a handy ref-
erence of fundamental issues and interfaces that planners must address to
promote a successful coalition operation.15
The MCCoE determined that the best way to categorize interoperabil-
ity friction points and solutions is through three broad categories: human,
technical, and procedural. This categorization allows members of numer-
ous organizations within our Army such as the Joint Multinational Readi-
265
ness Center (JMRC), Mission Command Training Program (MCTP), Na-
tional Training Center (NTC), Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC),
and Army Warfighting Assessment (AWA) to classify observations and
provide recommendations as the Army codifies its approach to education
and training to enhance interoperability. For example during the opera-
tions process, commanders use the three broad categories to better under-
stand, visualize, and describe solutions to interoperability friction points.
The doctrinal definitions of the three friction points can be found in Field
Manual (FM) 6-0, Commander and Staff Organization and Operations:
• Human. “Identify the problem and provide tools to solve the problem,
understanding the people in your organization and where they can provide
the largest benefit to mission accomplishment.”16 Leaders/commanders of
multinational formations must spend time to build relationships and trust,
as well as develop common understanding through the depth of the forma-
tion. Building trust does not immediately occur when a new coalition unit
arrives for the operation. It happens when new teammates are profession-
ally received and integrated by fostering dialogue about unit capabilities
and limitations, and leading more graduate-level discussions on “how we
fight.” This is critical to forming the team in a multinational environment.
• Procedural. “Procedural control is a technique for actively regu-
lating forces where actions are governed by written and oral instructions
which do not require authorization to execute.”17 This often-overlooked
portion of interoperability describes procedures, policies, and doctrine, or
oftentimes the lack thereof. In order to build an effective tactical organiza-
tion, common doctrine and procedures enable common vision and systems
for dealing with routine operations and actions.
• Technical. This aspect addresses the equipment you use and how you
make it operate with other equipment. Coalition countries bring varying
degrees of compatible radios, friendly force tracking devices, or command
information systems to the battlefield. Commanders and planning staffs
need to ask: how do I communicate with my subordinate commanders?
How do my subordinate units request enablers like air weapons teams,
or call for indirect fire when they are requesting an asset from another
country in the formation and do not have compatible communications sys-
tems?18 Commanders must take a very deliberate approach to answering
such questions during the planning process.
Examination of a contemporary historical example will highlight
common interoperability friction points and provide a vehicle for dis-
cussion. In November 2004, Operation Al Fajr was a Coalition offensive

266
operation into the Iraqi city of Fallujah, led by the 1st Marine Division
then commanded by Maj. Gen. Richard F. Natonski. This battle has been
studied in great detail and is considered a successful Joint and Coalition
operation conducting large-scale combat operations in a dense urban area.
Additional discussion will address how commanders and staffs overcame
interoperability issues to enhance mission accomplishment.
Operation Al Fajr (Fallujah II)
Operation Al Fajr was Joint and Coalition warfare at its finest.
—Lt. Gen. John F. Sattler, 1st Marine Expeditionary
Force and commander, Multi-National Force-West
In 2008, a US Army history of Operation Iraqi Freedom described the
joint and multinational character of Operation Al Fajr:
Natonski’s joint Marine and Army TF would attack with addi-
tional units, taking on a true joint and combined character. The
assault force would include six Iraqi Army battalions that were
to follow the Marine and US Army units into the city. Further,
the British Black Watch Battle Group assisted with the isolation
of the Fallujah area. The RCTs [regimental combat teams] would
gain joint assistance in the form of US Navy Seal teams and Air
Force Enlisted Terminal Attack Controllers (ETACs) who would
coordinate the use of US Air Force (USAF) aircraft for close air
support. Moreover, Natonski’s force took the idea of jointness one
step further by integrating the Army and Marine units at com-
pany level and below. In one case, 2-2nd IN received a Marine
Light Armored Vehicle (LAV) company for operations. In anoth-
er, Army commanders detached tank and BFV [Bradley Fighting
Vehicle] sections to Marine reconnaissance companies. All told,
the Coalition forces involved in Al Fajr numbered close to 12,000,
of whom approximately 10,000 would enter the city at some point
in the operation.19
Planning for the second attack into Fallujah began in mid-summer
2004 after a failed first attempt in April 2004. This new operation was
originally called Operation Phantom Fury by the United States, but was
renamed Operation Al Fajr (New Dawn) by the interim Iraqi Prime Min-
ister, Ayad Allawi.20 The attack was planned by an operational plans team
(OPT) of the 1st Marine Division (1st MARDIV). The 1st MARDIV not
only had to write the order for the deliberate offensive operation into Fal-
lujah, but also had to address security concerns throughout the entirety
of its area of operations. This included the areas of Ramadi and Northern
267
Babil (Figure 17.2 shows the task organization of the division). Even to a
casual observer, it was readily apparent that the 1st MARDIV had numer-
ous interoperability issues to solve before crossing the line of departure
into Fallujah on 8 November 2004. There were four countries represented
in the division: United Kingdom, Azerbaijan, Iraq, and the United States.
Accompanying the two Marine regimental combat teams (RCTs 1 and 7)
that were tasked with the actual attack into Fallujah were US Army, Navy,
Air Force and Iraqi Army units which consisted of Special Forces, Com-
mando, and National Guard.
The following analysis of Al Fajr examines the operation through the
lens of the levels of interoperability and the three interoperability friction
points (human, procedural, and technical). The 1st MARDIV commander,
Major General Natonski, and his two RCT commanders (Col. Michael
Shupp, RCT-1 commander, and Col. Craig Tucker, RCT-7 commander)
led the efforts in reducing friction within the human and procedural realms.

Figure 17.2. 1st Marine Division Task Organization. From Donald P. Wright and Col.
Timothy R. Reese, On Point II: Transition to the New Campaign (Fort Leavenworth,
KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2008).

The Human Dimension

During a January 2018 interview by the author, then-Lieutenant General
(Retired) Natonski indicated that before the battle he deliberately met with
268
every unit commander as they joined 1st MARDIV, including Iraqi battal-
ion commanders (see Figure 17.3). Ironically, Natonski had fought against
at least two of the Iraqi battalion commanders who were now attached to
him earlier during the initial offensive phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom in
March 2003.21 The seamless nature of how Marine commanders accepted
and integrated their joint and coalition partners was not lost on CNN report-
er Jane Arraf, an embedded reporter with the US Army’s Task Force 2nd
Battalion, 2nd Infantry Regiment (TF 2-2), which was assigned to RCT-7
for the operation. A seasoned reporter, Arraf wrote about the successful in-
tegration of RCT-7 and its subordinate units and attributed that success to
the leadership, especially that of the RCT-7 commander. She noticed how
Colonel Tucker and his subordinate commanders seemed “incredibly smart
so they got along and were on the same page. There is a huge cultural gap
difference between the Marines and the Army, but I think what bridged it, in
this instance, in Fallujah, was the skill of all the commanders.”22
Lt. Col. Pete Newell, TF 2-2 commander, was equally impressed by
the human dimension of the 1st MARDIV and RCT-7 leadership and the
professionalism of the 1st MARDIV plans staff. He stated, “I give RCT-7
and 1 MARDIV commanders an A+ in leadership, which is where integra-
tion starts.”23 In regard to the human dimension of interoperability, much
can be learned from how the Marine Corps leadership built their joint and
coalition team for Operation Al Fajr. Even more remarkable is the fact that
gaining forces participating in the operation did not arrive in the1st MAR-
DIV area of operations until mere days before the battle.
The six Iraqi battalions attached to 1st MARDIV prior to the battle
also received excellent interoperability support in the human and proce-
dural dimensions. Once 1st MARDIV realized how many Iraqi units they
would be receiving, they initially focused on providing life support for
the Iraqi units. Upon the unit’s arrival at Camp Fallujah, Major General
Natonski ordered his Marines to conduct crucial training with the Iraqis.
This training included law of armed conflict, rules of engagement (ROE),
marksmanship, room-clearing procedures, and first aid training. After this
centralized training occurred, the Iraqi units were attached to their US
formations. This is another positive example of reducing both human and
procedural interoperability friction points identified in advance by the Ma-
rine Corps senior leadership.
Procedural
In the planning process, many of the Marine Corps and Army field
grade officers quickly realized simple procedural differences between

269
Army and Marine Corps units would need to be resolved. In early October
2004, Maj. John Reynolds, the operations officer for TF 2-2 IN, assessed
the need to ensure the ROE for both Army and the Marine units was iden-
tical and asked to see the Marine ROE. Reynolds recalled, “I understood
that we would fight as a joint force, and I wanted to ensure we swapped
SOPs (standard operating procedures) and reporting procedures.”24

Figure 17.3. Maj. Gen. Richard F. Natonski briefs Task Force 2-2 (US Army) company
commanders prior to battle. From Matt M. Matthews, Operation AL FAJR, A Study in
Army and Marine Corps Joint Operations (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies
Institute Press, 2006).
An overlooked procedural friction point occurred just as 1st MARDIV
was crossing the line of departure (LD) on D + 1 (one day after the desig-
nated day of the event). This was a communication security (COMSEC)
change just as the Joint and Coalition force started their deliberate breach
from the north into Fallujah. The Marines were insistent that the COM-
SEC change occur, but many of the Army field grade officers had learned
some valuable interoperability issues at the US Army “dirt” combat train-
ing centers (CTC). The following quotes from the field grade officers in-
side Task Force 2-2 are noteworthy. Major Reynolds, who was moving
with his task force, noted:
1 MARDIV was adhering strictly to its SOP, ordered a commu-
nications security (COMSEC) change, myself and the rest of the
staff worked through RCT-7 to get the COMSEC change post-
poned until after the battle. A key lesson I learned while being
270
 an OC (observer controller) at [JRTC] was that one should never
change COMSEC hours prior to or during the attack, unfortunate-
ly I learned it again this time in combat.25
The TF 2-2 acting executive officer located inside the tactical operations
center (TOC) also had issue with coordinating with the Marines for the
“fill,” the colloquial term for the COMSEC update:
The first fill we got from the USMC [US Marine Corps] was a
bad fill and caused some serious heartburn. The signal guys at
1 MARDIV were very resolute on not adjusting their pattern of
COMSEC change during the battle. This meant we did a COM-
SEC change on the night of the 8th of November. Luckily LTC
Newell got permission not to switch our BN [battalion] internal
net to this fill. At the TOC we changed fills on the regimental net
and then went with the new fill I think mid-day on the 9th. This
fill on the 8th had problems and caused a lot of problems USMC
wide (if I remember correctly) by the 9th there was a correction
of the fill that we sent out. I know we switched about three or four
days later and again there were problems with the fill that went
out USMC wide.26
These types of problems proved very time-consuming to correct and
had significant “ripple” effects. When recalling the friction caused by the
COMSEC fill change, Capt. James Cobb, the TF 2-2 fire support officer
(FSO), described it as “the craziest and most idiotic thing I have ever heard
of.”27 The task force commander, Lt. Col. Pete Newell, echoed his FSO’s
comments but used words of a more tactful manner, emphasizing, “Even
though we all use the same systems, changing fills is not an easy task and
with an entire task force takes time to do. Changing in the middle of a fight
(which the Marines did once) is just a bad idea.”28
Even at the company level and below, what should have been a sim-
ple procedural COMSEC change caused severe anxiety. Staff Sgt. David
Bellavia, a squad leader in Alpha Company, TF 2-2, provided insight as
he listened to his platoon and company radio nets. He remarked hearing
his company commander, Capt. Sean Sims (later killed during the battle)
“lose his mind on the command net, and then I hear our whole platoon net
lose its mind as we realize we are now on someone else’s net.”29 He finally
figured out the source of the anger was 1st MARDIV’s decision to conduct
a COMSEC changeover just as his unit was attempting to establish a foot-
hold into northern Fallujah in order to support a “PhD level” combined
arms operation called a deliberate breach.30

271
Technical
The final interoperability friction point—technical—is also the
greatest concern for Army Chief of Staff Gen. Mark Milley. General
Milley has been emphatic about the Army’s need to improve upon both
joint and coalition interoperability. He has specifically focused on digital
call for fires, secure voice, and providing a digital common operating
picture (COP). During Operation Al Fajr, communication between the
Coalition forces was the single greatest interoperability issue and thus
a “technology” friction point. The two Army battalion task forces that
participated in the battle (TF 2-2 and TF 2-7) had this to say in their after
action reviews (AARs):
Communication problems presented perhaps the most signifi-
cant of all the difficulties between the Army and Marines in the
battle of Fallujah. Although TF 2-7 and TF 2-2 had minimal
problems communicating on the battlefield inside their units,
both noted challenges of communicating with the joint services.
The Army used FM, Force XXI Battle Command, Brigade and
Below (FBCB2), and Blue Force Tracker (BFT), whereas the
Marines used tactical satellite radio (TACSAT), mIRC Internet
Relay Chat (MIRC CHAT), and command and control for the
PC (C2PC).31
The casual observer could easily foresee the technical interoperabil-
ity issues that could occur between Marine and Army forces in the le-
thal, complex, urban operations between Marine and Army forces. Even
today, just getting these competing systems to interface causes friction
and many times units are not fielded with the same systems or genera-
tion of upgrades or versions. This is a hard fact Coalition and Joint force
commanders and staffs need to address during their planning processes.
Simply stated, when we create the Joint or Coalition force for the next
Fallujah, it is likely that units will arrive at the fight “as they are” with
different communications platforms, thus negatively impacting the ag-
gregate unit ability to conduct digital call for fire, secure voice, and a
digital COP.
The 2004 attack into Fallujah is replete with technical issues that can
be used as learning points. TF 2-2, realizing early in the planning process
the need for liaison officers (LNOs) inside the higher headquarters, placed
two young officers with the RCT-7 tactical operations center (TOC). These
LNOs knew most of the information they would receive required secure

272
computer lines, and immediately noticed a compatibility issue between
Army and Marine Corps communication systems:
We had four secure internet protocol router (SIPR) computers be-
tween members of the LNO team, and all of us had our own, but
RCT-7 was operating pretty austerely. They weren’t at their home
base camp; they just had their organic commo equipment so they
were very limited in the number of drops (secure Internet lines)
they could give us. It wasn’t like we could just take our computer,
unplug it from our SIPR drop, plug it into the Marine Corps SIPR
drop and have it work.32
A Marine Corps signal officer soon assisted the LNO team, but quick-
ly other technical interoperability issues arose. Just making a phone call
from the new RCT-7 TOC back to their battalion task force and other
Army higher echelon units was problematic. The famous Prussian gen-
eral and theorist Carl von Clausewitz wrote in his seminal work On War,
“Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing becomes difficult.
The difficulties accumulate and end by producing a kind of friction that is
inconceivable unless one has experienced war.”33 The LNO team technical
friction points compounded, making what should have been routine very
difficult in an austere and time-constrained environment:
We also had problems with telephones. Initially we couldn’t dial
an Army number from the Marine Corps phone at all. It took a
couple of days but eventually the RCT-7 signal guys were able
to figure out how to let us call back to FOB [Forward Operating
Base] Normandy, but they could only give us one line that they
could configure that way. They had to use all the others to talk to
their chain of command. So the number we got, we established as
the 2-2 TOC. But to call anybody else we had to go back through
Germany, to a switchboard in Germany, to have them patch us into
the Army network, which limited our ability but at least we were
able to still communicate.34
Additionally, the Army unit TOC and the Marine RCT TOC digital
command and control systems were incompatible. As mentioned earlier,
during 2004 Army units primarily used FBCB2 and Blue Force Track-
er (BFT) to communicate, update, and maintain their common operating
picture (COP). These Army program of record systems did not interface
with the Marine Corps command and control (C2) nodes at RCT and 1st
MARDIV levels, causing issues and numerous work-arounds the Army

273
task forces had to implement. What may not be apparent to the reader is
the limited amount of time that 1st MARDIV had to integrate units, issue
orders, rehearse, move to the line of departure (LD) and begin the attack,
so many of these technical issues were not identified until after the battle
began. Still, the agile thinking of marines and soldiers reduced much of
the friction. The comments of the TF 2-2 executive officer are informative:
The other major factor that they [RCT-7] used a Microsoft chat to
do a lot of their instant messaging, even between the battalions,
the regiment, and the division. In some aspects, it was really great,
particularly for intel. We could get a lot of information fast; dis-
seminate it, print, and save it; and a lot of spot reports, we could
keep from different sectors, whether it was 1/3 or 1/8 Marines.
So we could inform our guys of what was going on. The problem
was that the Marines have some kind of wireless capability that
they could put in their TAC out north of Fallujah and still talk off
the Internet laptop. We just didn’t have that capability. We had set
up a satellite system that would tie in that way. It was mounted
out of two Humvees, basically. We could mount it on a roof if we
were in an abandoned building, and that is where we stayed (the
TOC) for the whole time. The TAC could move back and forth but
again, with the majority of regimental communications not on FM
traffic—it was on instant messenger stuff—the regimental traffic
was very quiet. So that was something difficult to keep up with.
We did update a lot on FM, but a lot different than the Marines did.
So we would take it (information) off Blue Force Tracker and we
would update it at the TOC and send it forward to regiment. Or,
every now and then they would call or the regimental commander
would come into sector and talk face to face with Lieutenant Col-
onel Newell.35
Despite the Army and Marine Corps battle command systems being
incompatible and communication systems not fully understood or prop-
erly utilized, 1st MARDIV did not experience a single fratricide during
this operation.36 This technology issue is still not solved in today’s Joint
force and remains a major friction point for Joint and Coalition forces.
However, what can be learned from the study of this battle in regard to the
technological friction points are key. The 1st MARDIV, and RCT-1 and
7 commanders fought forward with their units. They achieved a shared
situational understanding with their subordinate commanders and made
timely decisions, thus mitigating many of the technological issues. This
worked ideally for the small area of operations inside Fallujah, but would
274
have been problematic had the area of operations been larger or distribut-
ed. An example of how Marine Corps leaders conducted battlefield circu-
lation and decision-making was described by Lieutenant Colonel Newell,
the TF 2-2 commander:
The RCT-7 commander, COL Tucker, would show up and we’d
pull out the plexi-glassed over imagery with the block map over
it. That’s how we kinda adjusted phase lines and CFLs (coordi-
nated fire lines) was by saying, “Hey I’m going to push into this
block and this block and this block. I need to move the division
CFL a little further over here. . . .” We did this from my TAC,
from the front of a Humvee. That really became the TTP [tactics,
techniques, and procedures] for every plan we put together. We’d
essentially—with him standing there—sketch out a course of ac-
tion of what we intended on doing. Then he and his S-3 would go
back to the regimental TOC and then sketch out the regimental
plan that supported that.37
Commanders at all levels did this type of daily interface to reduce
friction that was being caused by the poor technological interface be-
tween Marine and Army systems. The technological problems described
above were mostly overcome by the skills of the senior commanders on
the ground, who positioned themselves very far forward in the fight. This
type of quality leadership may not always be the case in Joint or Coalition
operations. Operation Al Fajr also allows military professionals to assess
the levels of interoperability that existed in the 1st MARDIV and their
Coalition forces (discussed earlier).
By using the interoperability levels and definitions described early in
this chapter, it could be assessed that the Army forces task-organized to the
1st MARDIV were at level 2-compatible. This may well be the best level
that Army and Marine forces could have operated at in 2004 as a Joint
force. In 2018, level 3-integrated is still problematic. These challenges
show the importance of MCCoE’s diligent work to find ways to achieve
the goals of AWFC 14: ensure interoperability and operate in a joint, inter-
organizational, and multinational environment.
Clearly, interoperability is not easy to achieve. Still, the three interop-
erability dimensions—human, procedural, and technical—can and must
be addressed in planning for Joint and Coalition operations. It is important
to recognize that interoperability is a multi-layered challenge that must
be addressed comprehensively in order to enable effective problem iden-
tification before execution and thus enable the Army to lead these type

275
of operations. Analysis by WfF—oriented on interoperability issues and
synchronized across all WfFs—will enable the Army to make focused,
risk-informed plans for now while also looking long term to enhance in-
teroperability capability that will effectively complement future force de-
velopment and enable the Army’s ability to fight and win in the future.
The challenge lies in recognizing that achieving an interoperability level
is oftentimes dependent upon the aspirational desires of the partner, the
technical capabilities/wherewithal they possess to become linked digitally
with our mission command systems, and policy restrictions imposed by
the United States and/or our partners.
In closing, a young company commander who participated in Oper-
ation Al Fajr in 2004 saw the future and where the Army needs to focus.
Capt. Pete Glass, commander of Charlie Company, 3rd Battalion, 8th Ar-
mor Regiment (attached to TF 2-7 during Al Fajr), said this after the battle:
There were a couple times when it got hairy and there were cou-
ple of close calls with blue on blue, or fratricide; just because
the common operating picture between the Army and Marines is
not there. I think if Joint/Coalition forces are going to continue to
do operations like this, we need to have a broad spectrum where
everybody shares the same stuff, has the same picture, and has
the same FBCB2, Blue Force Tracker, so we can continue to do
operations and functions like this.38

276
 Notes
1. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 15-17, Multinational
Commander’s Guide to Interoperability (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2017), iii.
2. Center for Strategic & International Studies, “Priorities for Our Nation’s
Army with General Mark A. Milley,” 23 June 2016, accessed 31 January 2018,
https://www.csis.org/events/priorities-our-nations-army-general-mark-milley.
3. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 3-0, Operations (Washing-
ton DC: 2017), 3-13.
4. US Army Capabilities Integration Center, “Army Warfighting Challeng-
es,” accessed 15 March 2018, http://arcic-sem.azurewebsites.us/Initiatives/Ar-
myWarfightingChallenges.
5. Patrick Davis, Mission Command Center of Excellence, interview by
author, Fort Leavenworth, KS, 20 March 2018.
6. Davis interview by author.
7. Department of the Army, Army Regulation (AR) 34-1, Multinational
Force Interoperability (Washington, DC: 2015), 3.
8. AR 34-1, 4.
9. Davis interview by author.
10. Department of the Army, Execution Order 293-17, Interoperability
(Washington, DC: 2017), 2.
11. Execution Order 293-17, 2.
12. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 15-17, 2
13. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publication 16-18, Multinational
Operability Reference Guide (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2016), iv.
14. Department of the Army, The Army Vision: Strategic Advantage in a
Complex World (Washington, DC: 2014), 9.
15. Center for Army Lessons Learned, Publications, accessed 11 March
2018, https://call2.army.mil/doc_index.aspx?ID=141.
16. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 6-0, Commander and Staff
Organization and Operations (Fort Leavenworth, KS: 2014), 10.
17. FM 6-0, 2-16.
18. FM 6-0, 3-2.
19. Donald P. Wright and Col. Timothy R. Reese, On Point II: Transition
to the New Campaign (Fort Leavenworth KS: Combat Studies Institute Press,
2008), 351.
20. Kendall D. Gott, ed., Eyewitness to War, vol. I (Fort Leavenworth, KS:
Combat Studies Institute Press, 2006), 9.
21. Lt. Gen. (Retired) Richard F. Natonski, interview by author, Fort Leav-
enworth, KS, 18 January 2018.
22. Matt M. Matthews, Operation AL FAJR: A Study in Army and Marine
Corps Joint Operations (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press,
2006), 13.
23. Matthews, 23.
24. Matthews, 17.

277
 25. Matthews, 47.
26. Matthews, 47.
27. Matthews, 49.
28. Matthews, 49.
29. Kendall D. Gott, ed., Eyewitness to War, vol. II (Fort Leavenworth, KS:
Combat Studies Institute Press, 2006), 252.
30. Gott, 261.
31. Matthews, Operation AL FAJR, 75.
32. Matthews, 22.
33. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, eds. Michael Howard and Peter Paret
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 119.
34. Matthews, Operation AL FAJR, 22.
35. Matthews, 55.
36. Gott, Eyewitness to War, vol. II, 179.
37. Matthews, Operation AL FAJR, 55.
38. Gott, Eyewitness to War, vol. II, 89.

278
 Chapter 18
Large-Scale Combat Operations in Urban Terrain
Michael T. Chychota

The fighting in the Italian town of Ortona in 1943 was deadly and at
extremely close range. Operations in a village, town, or city during World
War II was like fighting in a concrete jungle. One historian characterized
urban combat in Italy in the following way:
Both sides tried to avoid the fighting, especially in the narrow,
twisting streets of ancient Italian towns. There was no way for
commanders to control events in such fighting. Troops became
scattered through the buildings. Small clusters of men ended up
fighting battles in isolation from everyone else. Supporting arms
could not be brought to bear effectively. The tanks could hardly
move along the streets and were too vulnerable to anti-tank weap-
ons. Artillery could not be directed against enemy targets. Most of
the time the enemy was so close that artillery was as likely to hit
its own men as the enemy. Such friendly fire was always a danger
on the battlefield. But it became almost inevitable when soldiers
fought inside a town.1
Not since 1945 has a US Army division conducted large-scale combat
operations (LSCO) in a concrete jungle. Combat in an urban area, howev-
er, has not changed significantly since the end of that conflict. In the twen-
ty-first century, no matter where a US Army division goes, the division’s
soldiers are likely to fight in just such an environment.
The Role of the Division
The division conducting LSCO in an urban environment performs the
same functions as in any other terrain. However, the functions differ a bit,
dependent upon three variables. The three variables are the dimensions of
the urban terrain, the density of the urban terrain, and the higher order of
effects of that terrain.
The US Army has wrestled with how to fight in built-up areas since the
end of World War II. This chapter describes how the division echelon con-
ducts large-scale combat operations in an urban environment and is based
upon more than two decades of studying, teaching, and writing doctrine
centered on urban operations. During that period, doctrinal terms and acro-
nyms have changed numerous times, including military operations in built-
up areas (MOBA), fighting in built-up areas (FIBUA), fighting in fortified
279
areas (FIFA), military operations on urbanized terrain (MOUT), and others.
While the names may have changed, the concepts have not; the challenges
and tasks remain the same and are particularly difficult to implement. These
insights primarily pertain to the division acting as a tactical headquarters
during LSCO in the uniquely challenging urban environment. To date, there
is no definitive doctrine specifying how a division performs LSCO in an ur-
ban environment. Moreover, the typical field-grade officer in the US Army
does not understand the uniquely difficult environment of urban areas and,
therefore, does not grasp the exceptional difficulties of fighting a peer com-
petitor in urban areas, especially when the peer competitor may well enjoy
periods of air and/or armor supremacy, or at least superiority. Hence, this
chapter begins by revisiting the 2014 version of Army Training Publication
(ATP) 3-91, Division Operations, which states that in unified land opera-
tions (ULO) at any given moment, the division echelon performs in one of
four roles: tactical headquarters, land component command headquarters,
limited contingency task force headquarters, or army force headquarters.2
The primary role of the division headquarters is as a tactical headquar-
ters. The division commander shapes operations for the subordinate bri-
gades, resources the brigades for the associated missions, and coordinates,
synchronizes and sequences the operations in time and space. The division
headquarters helps the commander employ land forces as part of a joint
and multinational force during the conduct of decisive action—the contin-
uous, simultaneous combinations of offensive, defensive, and stability or
defense support of civil authorities tasks.3
The division headquarters’ second role is to serve as the platform
around which a joint and/or multinational land component headquarters
can be formed. This headquarters functions under a joint task force in cri-
sis response and limited contingency operations. When serving as a joint
or multinational land force headquarters, the commander is concerned pri-
marily with the conduct of joint land operational tasks instead of Army
tactical tasks.4
The division headquarters’ third role involves serving as a joint task
force headquarters in a limited contingency operation. This transformation
requires extensive joint augmentation. When serving as a joint task force
headquarters, the division headquarters organizes and operates according
to joint doctrine.5
The final role of a division headquarters is to function as an army
force headquarters for a small contingency. A division headquarters pos-
sibly may need to simultaneously serve in all four of these roles in a lim-

280
ited operation. Due to the potential to overburden the division staff, this
circumstance should be avoided when possible.6 Interestingly, regardless
of the role the division plays, the division commander shapes operations
for subordinate brigades, resources the brigades for the appropriate mis-
sions, and coordinates, synchronizes, and sequences the operations in time
and space. How the division headquarters shapes, resources, coordinates,
synchronizes, and sequences the operations in an urban environment is the
main focus of this chapter.
The Framework for Urban Operations
Prior to 1941, the US Army did not have a framework for implement-
ing urban operations. US Army doctrine did not even address combat in
urban areas completely or as a unique experience. In fact, a soldier could
find only a page or two devoted to the characteristics of “combat in towns.”
As World War II progressed, the US Army published Field Manual (FM)
31-50, Attack on a Fortified Position and Combat in Towns, in 1944. In
1979, the US Army published Field Manual (FM) 90-10 Military Oper-
ations on Urbanized Terrain; as in 1944, the watchwords were “bypass
urbanized terrain—do not enter the urban environment.” The concept was
to isolate the town and not fight a costly and time-consuming battle where
the US Army could not use its technological advantages over the enemy.
In May 1993, the Army published Field Manual (FM) 90-10-1, An Infan-
tryman’s Guide to Combat in Built-Up Areas, outlining the importance
of analyzing the urban area with the established guidelines of the intelli-
gence preparation of the battlefield (IPB) and the mission, enemy, terrain,
troops available, time, and civilian considerations (METT-TC) construct.
In 2000, the US Army began working closely with the US Marine Corps
and developed a new and improved urban operation doctrine. Original-
ly, this doctrine centered on the acronym known as ASDT (assess, shape,
dominate, and transition). The process was logical and served both the
Army and the Marines well. The concept embodied the guiding principles
of Marine Corps Gen. Charles Krulak’s “Three Block War.” In 2002, the
doctrine was published in Field Manual (FM) 3-06.11, Combined Arms
Operations in Urban Terrain. The manual replaced FM 90-10-1, retain-
ing the good practices of the old manual and adding the urban operation
framework. The Army and the Marine Corps were pleased with the effort.
The cynic probably would say that if American soldiers and marines both
knew, understood, and liked the concept, the concept needed to change.
Interestingly, change indeed came. Doctrinal “wordsmiths” felt un-
derstand was a far better and descriptive word than assess for the first step
of the process. The same doctrine writers sensed that dominate was too
281
combative and was better served being replaced by engage and consoli-
date. Thus, the urban operations framework USECT (understand, shape,
engage, consolidate, and transition) was born. The new USECT doctrine
was first published in 2011 in Chapter 1 of Army Tactics, Techniques,
and Procedures (ATTP) 3-06.11, Combined Arms Operations in Urban
Terrain. As a result, US Army doctrine indicated that the commander and
staff of every US unit involved in urban operations would develop the
situation and implement the selected course of action in roughly the same
manner regardless of the echelon of the unit. Indeed, the USECT urban op-
erations framework is an effective method for use in any environment, but
especially in the urban environment. The US Army even convinced NATO
that the USECT framework was the way of the future. NATO Report Ur-
ban 2020 recommended the adoption of the USECT framework in 2002,
ironically long before the Army officially adopted the USECT framework.
The US Army’s constant desire to develop, augment, or otherwise im-
prove concepts, equipment, or procedures can sometimes be its own worst
enemy. For example in 2006, after the US Army convinced the US Depart-
ment of Defense that the USECT framework was the best framework with
which a tactical commander could implement operations in urban environ-
ments, the Army published Field Manual (FM) 3-06, Urban Operations,
pushing the framework into the background. This manual was supersed-
ed in 2017 when the US Army published Army Techniques Publication
(ATP) 3-06, Urban Operations, reflecting the urban operation framework
of USECT only in passing as some concepts perhaps to be considered. The
US Army led the effort to adopt the USECT framework and put everyone
on the USECT “bandwagon,” only to then move away from the concept.
That said, the concepts of the USECT urban operations framework still
apply today. For ease of understanding, the urban operations (UO) frame-
work tenets with associated short explanations and succinct observations
from experienced CGSC instructors are arrayed in Figure 18.1.
Regardless of the status of the reference manuals and the verbiage of
the urban operations framework, the division commander will use some
sort of variant of the USECT framework when employing the division in
LSCO in an urban environment.
Large-Scale Combat Operations
LSCO are at the far end of the conflict continuum and associated with
high-intensity war; they are ugly situations, even for the winner. LSCO in
urban terrain are what is commonly agreed to be the “ugliest of the ugly.”
Even the winner suffers terribly. What is the difference between LSCO in

282
 URBAN
OPERATIONS EXPLANATION OBSERVATION
TENET

Determine the effects of PMESII- PMESII-PT and METT-TC provide good

UNDERSTAND PT and METT-TC on the understanding of the situation and are
anticipated operation. well understood.

Set the conditions necessary for Shaping the battle is key in winning the
the subordinate units to achieve fight and requires a very experienced
SHAPE success in their actions. and able commander and staff, but few
young officers understand how to shape
a battle.

Implement offense, defense, The typical field grade officer learns how
stability, and/or support to civil to engage with combined arms
authority tasks in order to elements, but seldom learns much about
ENGAGE coordinate, synchronize, and stability operations, DSCA, or non-lethal
sequence actions in time, space, weapons.
and effect to achieve the desired
goal.

Secure the subordinate units, Consolidate gains is a major concept in

population, infrastructure, and/or the recently published FM 3-0,
even sovereignty in the area of Operations, in which the areas of
CONSOLIDATE operations. operations within a theater of operations
are composed of the appropriate deep,
close, support, and consolidation areas.

Shift to or from offense, defense, The typical current field-grade officer

stability, and/or support to civil seldom must grapple with the intricacies
TRANSITION authority or some permutation of transition for there never is enough
thereof. time to teach everything a young field
grade officer needs to know.

Figure 18.1. Urban Operations Framework Tenets. Created by Army University Press
based on author research.

urban terrain and in any other terrain and why does that difference make
urban LSCO the “ugliest of the ugly?” To be blunt, in almost every aspect,
there are no doctrinal differences. Strategy, operations, tactics, techniques,
and procedures remain nearly unchanged. However, they are adapted some-
what to the new urban environment. The same offense, defense, and stabili-
ty operations (or defense support of civil authorities—DSCA) are employed
in essentially identical manners and the same offensive, defensive, and sta-
bility tasks apply. Likewise, the same forms of offense and defense apply.
The same forms of maneuver, and the same reconnaissance and security op-
erations apply. So what really is different about operations in urban terrain?
The answer is found in the three diverse variables: first, the four dimensions

283
of urban terrain; second, the density of urban terrain; and third, the higher
order of effects of urban terrain. These variables together have enormous
impacts on planning, preparing, and executing LSCO in urban terrain. As a
result, planning factors for actions in urban terrain are very different from
the planning factors in any other environment. As an example, in almost
every combat operation in urban terrain, the typical combat unit will defend
or attack (or both) across a wet gap obstacle. Two excellent examples are the
1942 Battle of Stalingrad and the 1945 Battle of Manila.
The term “urban area” is not precise enough to be useful. Therefore,
the US Army defined urban areas and urban operations. An urban area is
any area where a primary feature is a manmade feature or a population
concentration.7 An urban operation is any operation that encompasses an
urban area, or where the urban area is a significant aspect of the area of op-
eration (AO). With the exception of extremely rugged mountains, swampy
jungle, or frozen arctic terrain, almost every division AO will include an
urban area and the division will execute some sort of urban operation.8 The
commander will employ the division in one of three general manners in re-
gard to urban LSCO. The method of employment depends on the situation,
primarily upon the size of the urban area assigned to the division and the
size of the division AO. In almost every division operation, one of three
situations will exist. First, the urban area will encompass more than the
division AO or even encompass the AOs of several divisions, as evidenced
in the concept of the megacity—an urban area with a population more than
10 million.9 Second, the urban area will be smaller than the division’s AO
but will encompass a full brigade (or larger) AO. Third, the urban area will
encompass less than a brigade-sized AO. In each of the three situations,
the doctrinal tasks for the division remain the same, but the implemen-
tation of the requirements in support of those tasks is different. Shaping,
resourcing, and coordinating operations of the brigades are more difficult
in urban terrain because of the dimensions of urban terrain.
The Dimensions of Terrain
Unlike operations in non-urban terrain which have three dimensions,
there are four dimensions in urban operations. The typical three dimensions
for desert, plain, tundra, jungle, or mountain are: below the surface of the
ground (subsurface), on the surface of the ground, and above the surface of
the ground in the air. The ground tactical commander must consider and fight
in any permutation of all three dimensions. In urban terrain, there is added
complexity in a fourth dimension: the super-surface—created by man-made
structures. Maritime space external to the urban area is an extension of the
ground concept and has both surface and subsurface aspects of terrain.
284
 Figure 18.2: The Multidimensional Urban Battlefield. From Department of the Army,
Army Techniques Publication (ATP) 3-06, Urban Operations (Washington, DC:
2017), 1-5.

Man-made structures enable operations to take place within the struc-

tures and/or on the structures, and/or in concert with any or all of the typi-
cal three dimensions of terrain. The aspects of almost all terrain around the
world include airspace and two militarily significant surfaces: surface and
subsurface. Unlike all other terrain, urban terrain includes the typical three
militarily significant surfaces as well as the airspace above.

DIMENSION OF TERRAIN EXPLANATION/EXAMPLES

Air avenues of approach for drones, rotary wing, and fixed

AIRSPACE wing aircraft. Typically well known, but towers, poles, and
wires are obstacles.

Ground avenues of approach and the usual IPB and OAKOC

SURFACE apply. Typically fairly well known through maps and imagery.

Underground avenues of approach tunnels, sewers, caves,

SUBSURFACE basements, cellars, subways. Largely unknown until entered.

Building exterior and interior avenues of approach: roofs,

SUPER-SURFACE corridors, stairways, and building surfaces must be
considered. Largely unknown until entered.

Figure 18.3. Urban Operations Terrain Surfaces. Created by Army University Press
based on author research.

285
 Aircraft and aerial munitions use the airspace as avenues of approach.
Commanders can use aviation assets for observation, reconnaissance, ae-
rial attack, aerial insertion, and aerial extraction of soldiers, supplies, and
equipment. Some surface obstacles, such as rubble, do not affect aviation
assets. The varying height and density of towers, signs, power lines, and
other constructions create obstacles to the flight and the trajectory of many
aviation assets and many munitions. The cover and concealment afford-
ed to the enemy in urban areas increase aviation vulnerability to small
arms and man-portable air defense systems. Surface areas apply to exte-
rior ground-level areas, such as parking lots, airfields, highways, streets,
sidewalks, fields, and parks, which often provide primary avenues of ap-
proach and the means for rapid advance. However, buildings and other
structures often canalize forces moving amongst them. As such, obstacles
on urban surface areas usually have more effect than those in open terrain.
Super-surface areas include the internal floors or levels and external roofs
or tops of buildings, stadiums, towers, or other vertical structures.
Super-surface areas can provide cover and concealment, limit or en-
hance observation and fields of fire, and restrict, canalize, or block move-
ment. Forces can move within and between super-surface areas creating
additional—though normally secondary—avenues of approach. Rooftops
may offer a useful location for landing helicopters for small-scale air
assaults and aerial resupply in very nominal or non-existent air defense
threat environments. Subsurface areas serve as secondary, and sometimes
primary, avenues of approach at lower tactical levels. Subsurface areas
may provide excellent covered and concealed lines of communications
for moving supplies and evacuating casualties. Subsurface areas also may
provide sites for caching and stockpiling supplies. Subsurface areas in-
clude the subways, tunnels, sewers, drainage systems, cellars, civil de-
fense shelters, and other various underground utility systems.
These four dimensions place additional requirements and consider-
ations on division planners not encountered in the three-dimensional ter-
rain found elsewhere. Additionally, an unusual concept exacerbates the
situation that planners encounter. What distinguishes urban terrain from
any other terrain is the sheer number of elements per unit of space and the
number of activities that occur in and through those spaces. This distin-
guishing characteristic is termed density.10
In urban terrain, things (to use a non-doctrinal term) are dense, more
dense than in any other terrain. Much like a black hole, urban areas com-
press organizations into smaller areas. Combat units are forced into a
smaller frontage upon entering urban areas because of the complex ter-
286
rain, the limited lines of sight, the limited engagement ranges, the vast
numbers of nooks and crannies, and numbers of floors above and/or below
each square foot of ground space. There are more people, more units, more
structures, and more of everything. Limited sight lines mean that more
assets are needed to cover the same area than in open terrain. Limited
engagement ranges mean that more weapons are needed to cover the same
area, engagement times are shorter, and weapons effects are magnified by
the flat, hard surfaces.
Urban areas also present an extraordinary blend of horizontal, vertical,
interior, exterior, and subterranean forms and surfaces superimposed on
the natural relief, drainage, and vegetation of the terrain. While an urban
area may appear dwarfed by the surrounding countryside on a map, in
fact the size and extent of the urban battlespace is many times that of a
similarly sized portion of natural terrain. The sheer volume and density
created by the urban dense geometry can make urban operations extremely
resource-intensive in terms of time, manpower, and materiel.
Routes and avenues of approach for divisions in such a dense environ-
ment will likely require planning considerations and assets not typically
needed in open terrain in order to maintain freedom of maneuver. For ex-
ample, the need to remove rubble, clear roadways, and breach obstacles
typically will require more engineers and engineer equipment than what is
likely available. Additionally, unlike other environments and terrain, every
action in an urban environment potentially will create many higher order
effects. In any type of terrain other than urban terrain, each action normal-
ly will have a second- or even a third-order effect. For example, a direct
fire engagement typically will damage personnel and materiel, and create
dust or fire and smoke in the process. In the typical urban environment,
that same direct fire engagement will damage personnel and materiel, and
will create dust, fire, and smoke not only on and around the target, but also
in the surrounding structures. Fire and smoke in the surrounding structures
likely will injure additional combatants and non-combatants. Structure
collapse traps combatants and noncombatants in cellars or rubble, exacer-
bating the medical situation while creating additional displaced persons.
Destruction of structures damages the urban infrastructure, further taxing
the transportation and distribution of resources in the area.
Combat operations in urban terrain are more lethal than in any oth-
er terrain. A higher percentage of engaged personnel are killed, a higher
percentage of wounded die of their wounds, and a higher percentage of
personnel die from falling or crushing. The reason is that the short engage-
ment ranges create larger targets and multiple hits. The myriad of fortified
287
positions protect the lower torso and legs of most personnel, resulting in
a larger percentage of head and upper torso wounds. The large number of
damaged structures creates numerous opportunities to fall or be crushed
by falling rubble. Combatants fall from structures, and collapsing portions
of structures trap and/or crush combatants. The nearly omnipresent toxic
materials combined with lack of sanitation create severe infections in al-
most any scratch or scape in addition to any weapon-related injury. The
increased number of casualties in subterranean locations and damaged
structures make evacuation extremely difficult and time consuming at
best.11 In addition to these higher order effects, other aspects of the urban
environment challenge the combat unit commander.
Other Urban Challenges
Normally, toxic industrial materials and hazardous chemicals are not
found in open terrain but are ubiquitous and usually safely contained in
urban terrain. For example, chlorine used to purify water is an agent from
which the typical chemical protective mask will not protect the wearer.
The chlorine molecule is smaller than the oxygen molecule and cannot be
filtered out of the air a soldier breathes. Pesticides mainly are nerve agents
in a different form. Each year, more than 70,000 different chemicals are
produced, processed, or consumed globally. An estimated 25,000 com-
mercial facilities around the world produce, process, or store chemicals
that have a legitimate industrial use, yet are also classified as chemical
warfare agents. Many other chemicals (not classified as weapons) may
still be sufficiently hazardous to pose a considerable threat to Army forces
and civilians in urban areas as choking agents or asphyxiates, flammables
or incendiaries, water contaminants, low-grade blister or nerve agents, or
debilitating irritants. These same industrial materials and chemicals that
enable our society to function in an urban area usually are safely contained
during peacetime. However, during conflicts, these materials can be set
free on command or by accident in urban terrain.12
Stress in combat always is present and can degrade performance sig-
nificantly. In urban operations stress can be amplified due to the increase
in dealing with factors such as enclosed areas, a feeling of powerlessness,
ambiguity due to limited lines of sight, physical isolation from friendly
forces, and communications problems due to the effects of structures. The
sensory overload issues related to the smells and other related problems
of dealing with large numbers of dead bodies and animals, as well as the
amplification of sounds, may require units to be rotated much more fre-
quently.13 Additionally, being unable to know what or who is across the
street, across the hall, or even in the next room, combined with the phys-
288
ical exertion of climbing walls or stairs, creates a level of stress not en-
countered in other environments.14 As such, division planners developing
a course of action for operations in an urban environment need a special
set of planning factors.
Urban Operation Planning Factors
Just as the division shapes the fight so that brigades will be success-
ful, the brigade shapes the brigade-controlled urban fight so that the sub-
ordinate battalions can be successful. One of the three to five battalions
of the brigade will be the primary operational unit in a brigade-controlled
urban fight. Each of the subordinate battalions may perform any permuta-
tion of offense, defense, and/or stability operations at any given moment.
Each battalion may control a frontage of four to eight blocks, depending
on the orientation of the blocks, the number of structures in the blocks,
the construction materials of the structures, and the number of floors in
the structures. Likewise, each battalion may cover a depth of three to six
blocks. The typical block varies by urban area based upon country, cul-
ture, age, and purpose, but usually is about 175 meters long. This equates
to a battalion frontage of roughly 700 to 1,400 meters.15 Depending upon
the situation (1942 Stalingrad, as an example), units as large as divisions
may eventually be assigned to the same planning frontages as battalions.
Creating rubble by intensive aerial bombardment made fighting in Stal-
ingrad extremely difficult and decreased the AOs of the attacking units to
very small frontages.
In open terrain, this same battalion easily could be expected to have a
frontage of more than 5,000 meters with two companies forward and one
back. The concept of the shrinking frontages of units as the units enter
urban areas is known as the “fan and funnel effect.” As units enter urban
terrain, they are sucked into the funnel and compacted into much smaller
areas. When exiting urban terrain, the compacted frontages of the units
enlarge as the units fan out to their more typical frontages.16
What this means to the planner or commander is that every four to
six blocks of urban area will require a combat battalion depending upon
the nature and orientation of the urban terrain. For ease of visualization,
the town of Leavenworth, Kansas, measures roughly five kilometers east
to west and seven kilometers north to south. This equates to more than
twenty blocks east to west and more than eighty blocks north to south.
These dimensions easily equate to nearly two full combat brigades re-
quired for planning, yet the sides of the perimeter formed by the town
of Leavenworth each measure less than the typical battalion task force

289
frontage in open terrain. In fact, in open terrain one TOW II or Sagger
anti-tank guided-missile launcher could cover nearly the same entire area.
If the urban terrain is defended by a resolute enemy with some time to pre-
pare positions, the normal three-to-one attacker-to-defender ratio needed
for planning rises sharply to six-to-one or more. Typical planning factors
indicate that if a resolute enemy with time to prepare the defenses decides
to defend the town of Leavenworth, a reasonable division commander
would allocate at least two brigades to the task of attacking Leavenworth,
as attacking with only one brigade would entail a great amount of risk,
approaching what could be considered a “gamble.”

Figure 18.4. Fan and Funnel Effect. From Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM)
90-10, Military Operations on Urban Terrain (Washington, DC: 1999).

When the urban area is too large for one brigade, the division shapes
the urban fight so that the subordinate brigades can be successful. Each bri-
gade may be one of usually three to five subordinate maneuver brigades in
a division-controlled urban fight. Each subordinate brigade may implement
any permutation of offense, defense, and stability operations at any time.
Therefore, at any given moment the division may be shaping any blend of
offense, defense, and/or stability operations in an urban environment.
When the urban area is larger than the division’s AO, the corps shapes
the urban fight so that the subordinate divisions can be successful. The
division may be one of usually three to five subordinate divisions in a
corps-controlled urban fight. Likewise, the division as an entity may per-
form any combination of offense, defense, and or stability operations at
any given moment.
290
 A good rule of thumb is that the security force entering an urban
area needs at least twenty soldiers and police for every 1,000 persons in
the area.17 Therefore, if the urban area supports a pre-conflict population
of about 50,000 people, the size and layout of the urban area usually
requires at least one combat brigade equivalent of combat power to fight
and stabilize a situation effectively. For every additional 50,000 pre-con-
flict inhabitants, another combat brigade usually is required to fight ef-
fectively and stabilize the area. Pre-conflict inhabitants may displace to
avoid combat or “hunker down” in place. Displaced persons from other
areas may swell the size of the population in the urban area. The popu-
lation in the urban area may be supportive of your efforts, ambivalent
to your efforts, and/or actively oppose your efforts. Consequently, more
units may be needed than the original estimate. For every three to five
brigades involved in an urban operation, a division headquarters is need-
ed to shape and control the overall operation.
There is an odd planning factor that pertains to almost every combat
unit in action in an urban environment. In that environment, almost every
unit eventually must attack or defend across a dry or wet gap obstacle.
Dry and wet gaps such as ditches, canals, sewers, rivers, conduits, and
streams abound in urban environments primarily because urban areas
grow near a source of water or a change in mode of transportation for
people or goods (such as wagon to train to boat to horseback.) An urban
area usually develops where the mode changes. When a highway or rail-
road crosses a river, an urban area usually grows on each side of the river
along the highway or railroad.
High-rise structures inside cities challenge the maxim that the “high
ground” presents advantageous terrain during military operations. Limited
floor space and exfiltration routes may trap a unit by restricting its maneu-
verability. In addition, units may quickly exhaust the manpower required
to “dominate” this terrain by fighting continuously along vertical axes. 
Streets and buildings create obstacles to employing the main weapon
systems on most combat vehicles, which will not be able to traverse, ele-
vate, or depress to engage all potential threats. Such a large number of ave-
nues of approach and potential defensive vantage points would overwhelm
even the most skilled target acquisition systems and techniques in current
use. Isolation (denying an enemy freedom of movement or contact with
supporting forces on a given piece of terrain or building) is difficult on one
plane, but almost impossible for a single tactical unit on a city’s multiple
planes in a complex network of avenues, cross streets, and alleyways—

291
sandwiched between subterranean tunnels below and multi-story towers
above. Additionally, city life relies on a consistent flow of resources. Key
terrain within a city thus largely coincides with supply lines and logistical
networks along the main streets, avenues, and alleys crisscrossing the city.
Three Illustrative Urban Combat Scenarios
When planning LSCO in an urban area, the division performs the same
activities as the division performs in any other terrain, but the division
may perform those activities in a slightly different manner. The manner
depends upon the size and type of the urban environment. The following
situations illustrate that regardless of the role of the division and regard-
less of the differences in the operations, the division echelon still has the
requirement to shape the brigade operations, resource the brigade opera-
tions, and coordinate and synchronize the brigade operations.
Scenario 1—Battalion+ Sized Area in a Division AO
This example involved the Canadian Loyal Edmontons and Seaforth
Highlanders in the Battle of Ortona, 1943. In the Battle of Ortona, the two
understrength battalions of Fallschirmjäger from the German 1st Para-
chute Division defended the small town against attack from the Canadian
1st Infantry Brigade. After a particularly costly crossing of the Moro Riv-
er, the 1st Brigade no longer could advance. The Canadian 2nd Infantry
Brigade passed forward through the 1st Brigade and attacked into Ortona.
The Canadians attacked first with one battalion-sized element, the Loy-
al Edmonton Regiment, which made slow and costly progress. Then the
second battalion-sized element, the Seaforth Highlander Regiment, joined
the attack. The two regiments fought northward through the town with
the Loyal Edmonton Regiment on the right and the Seaforth Highlander
Regiment on the left. The Canadian Princess Patricia Light Infantry Reg-
iment supported the other elements of the Canadian 2nd Infantry Brigade
by shaping the operation to the west of the town, preventing German rein-
forcement of the German units in Ortona.
In this example, the Canadian Division fought LSCO in generally open
terrain while elements of one brigade-sized unit fought the urban battle.
The division appropriately shaped the operations for the subordinate bri-
gades, resourced the subordinate brigades appropriately for the assigned
missions, and coordinated, synchronized, and sequenced subordinate bri-
gade actions in time and space. The division accomplished all these tasks
while enabling the subordinate brigades to fight their fight within the pa-
rameters assigned by their higher command, the division.18

292
 ORTONA
6 DECEMBER 1943
TORRE
MUCCHIA TO
1943 EQUIVALENTS 4 JANUARY 1944 X 2ND BDE
1 BATTALION – US 2 1ST CANADIAN
1 REGIMENT - CA DIVISION UNITS
III SEAFORTH
HIGHLANDERS
SFH LINE INFANTRY
ADRIATIC III LOYAL
SEA EDMONTON
LE INFANTRY
III PRINCESS
PATRICIA’S
PPLI LIGHT INFANTRY

PPLI
SFH
SFH
LE
ORTONA
SAN
TOMMASO
N
LEGEND
TOWN
SAN III
NICHOLA
PPLI ROAD

RIVER
Ϭ ϭ III
III
D/>^
LE SFH

Figure 18.5. Battle of Ortona Map. Created by the author.

Scenario 2—Brigade+ Sized Urban Area in a Division AO.

This description is based on the US 351st Infantry Regiment in the
Battle of Santa Maria Infante. In Italy in 1944, the US 88th Division—
composed of the 349th, 350th, and 351st Infantry regiments—attacked
a German force with two regiments abreast and one regiment following.
The US 85th Division on the left supported the 88th Division in the attack
north. To the immediate left of the attack on the town of Santa Maria In-
fante was the 338th Regiment. The division performed the same functions
as in the previous example. However in this case, the 338th Regiment
on the left (a shaping operation) attacked across unpopulated terrain; the
349th Regiment on the right (a shaping operation) attacked across unpopu-
lated terrain; and the 351st Regiment in the center (the decisive operation)
attacked along the road north through the town of Santa Maria Infante to
seize key terrain north of the urban area.19
In this example, the American division continued to fight LSCO in
generally open, mountainous terrain while a regiment fought the urban
fight. The division appropriately shaped the operations for the subordinate
brigades, resourced the subordinate brigades appropriately for the assigned
missions, and coordinated, synchronized, and sequenced subordinate bri-
gade actions in time and space. The division accomplished all these tasks
293
while enabling the subordinate brigades to fight their fight within the pa-
rameters assigned by their higher command, the division.

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Figure 18.6. Battle of Santa Maria Infante Map, 1944. Created by the author.

Scenario 3—Division+ Sized Urban Area in a Corps AO

This example is based on the 1st Cavalry Division, 11th Airborne Di-
vision, and 37th Infantry Division in the Battle of Manila. In 1945, roughly
20,000 Japanese soldiers and sailors under the command of Rear Adm. Sanji
Iwabuchi defended Manila proper against the combined forces of the US 1st
Cavalry Division, the US 37th Infantry Division, and roughly 3,000 Filipino
guerillas. By most accounts, Japanese Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita originally
ordered the commander of the Shimbu Group, Gen. Shizuo Yokoyama, to
destroy the city’s infrastructure, bridges, and other vital installations then
evacuate the city when large American combat units neared the city. Rear
Admiral Iwabuchi received different instructions from the Japanese Imperi-
al Navy command, determined to defend every inch of the city.20
The division appropriately shaped the operations for the subordinate
brigades, resourced the subordinate brigades for the assigned missions,
and coordinated, synchronized, and sequenced subordinate brigade ac-
tions in time and space. The division accomplished all these tasks while
enabling the subordinate brigades to fight their fight within the parameters
assigned by their higher command, the division.
294
 3 FEBRUARY TO 3 MARCH
1945

LUZON N

LEGEND
MANILA CITY
RIVER
PIPELINE

JAPANESE FORCES
LEGEND
NORTHERN SECTOR, EASTERN SECTOR,
TACHIBANA SECTOR, KOBAYASHI SECTOR,
SAKURA SECTOR, KUSUNOKI SECTOR,
NICHOLS SECTOR, ISTHMUS SECTOR

XXX
XIV

MANILA BAY AMERICAN FORCES

1ST CAVALRY DIVISION
11TH AIRBORNE DIVISION
37TH INFANTRY DIVISION
1 KM
I I FILIPINO IRREGULARS

Figure 18.7. Battle of Manila Map, 1945. Created by the author.

Phases of Attacking a City

Interestingly enough, these three examples come from World War II.
These examples are not the only ones available from this conflict; many
others exist. However, worldwide violence of the scale and duration ex-
perienced during World War II has not occurred since 1945. That said,
there are themes of continuity that all three examples share. The follow-
ing discussion applies to any urban area anywhere and the echelons of the
units engaged can be any echelon from company up through army-level.
This generic example contains the six general steps or phases as described
in these US Army doctrinal publications: FM 90-10, FM 3-06, ATTP
3-06.11, and ATP 3-06.
Phase One is to determine the desired end state for the urban area
when the operations are complete. An army entering a defended urban area
immediately finds that the combat power and resources of the force begin
to dwindle rapidly, much like a living body is wasted by a virus. Ironically,
the army finds that the urban area infrastructure and resources immediate-
ly begin to waste away as well. Cities kill armies and armies kill cities.
The desired end state for the urban area dictates the level of force the
military uses. For example, if the end state is to retain the city as a viable
commercial entity, the level of force used must be limited and the collat-

295
eral damage must not destroy the commercial infrastructure and processes
of the city. Conversely, if the end state is to kill all who remain in the city,
the level of force to be used is nearly limitless and the resulting collateral
damage also nearly limitless. The generally accepted rule of engagement
for the US Army in a conflict that does not present an existential threat
to the US is to use precision force and avoid collateral damage where
practicable. Therefore, in the following example, the assumption is that
the attacking force will want the urban area to be capable of restoration to
conditions enabling that area to thrive after the conflict. The urban area is
a system of systems which are inter-related and inter-dependent, known as
the urban triad.21 That triad is composed of the populace, the terrain, and
the infrastructure that enables the populace to thrive in the urban area. To
that end, the attacking force cannot use force indiscriminately and cause
unavoidable collateral damage.
Phase Two is to advance to the urban area and halt in order to con-
solidate the region behind the advancing force in a manner that enables
the populace to be secure and survive in a relatively safe manner. Con-
solidation provides security for the unit, facilitates reorganization of the
unit if necessary, redistributes supplies and ammunition while evacuating
casualties, and enables the unit to prepare for the enemy’s counterattack.
Rapid consolidation after an engagement is extremely important in an ur-
ban environment, for the enemy is in close proximity and has numerous
mobility corridors through which to counterattack. During Phase Two, ev-
ery offensive task, defensive task, enabling task, form of maneuver, and
form of defense can, and probably will, be used by the advancing force.
When the area and population behind the lines of the advancing force are
secure, the advancing force can resume the advance.
Phase Three is to isolate the urban area from outside support as much
as possible while leaving a small “golden bridge” by which combatants
could choose to leave the urban area.22 If the “golden bridge” is available,
the enemy combatants must decide whether to fight to the death or flee the
urban area when the situation turns bad for them. A reasonable and pru-
dent defender often decides to leave a hopeless position in order to fight
again. A reasonable and prudent defender, when allowed no viable alter-
native, often decides to fight to the death. A fight to the death typically is
extremely costly for attackers and defenders. The “golden bridge” works
both ways; fighters, materiel, and supplies can come into the urban area as
well as leave the urban area. However, allowing a small resupply channel
for the defender to remain open is a risk that may be well worth taking by

296
the attacker. Again, during Phase Three, every offensive task, defensive
task, enabling task, form of maneuver, and form of defense can, and prob-
ably will, be used by the advancing force.
Phase Four is to gain a foothold in the urban area. Again, the attacking
force probably will use every offensive task, defensive task, enabling task,
form of maneuver, and form of defense. However, the character of combat
now changes dramatically. During Phases One through Three, the techno-
logically superior force has a tremendous, maybe even insurmountable,
advantage. Trained armored mobility and firepower reign supreme in open
combat. In the urban area, technological advantages can be nearly com-
pletely negated, and combat devolves almost to one soldier against anoth-
er. In such a situation, the numerically inferior force with no technological
advantage can almost completely stymy a technologically and numerically
superior force. Once a foothold in the urban area is gained, the area behind
the advancing force again is consolidated, enabling the urban area and the
populace to survive and even begin to restore some pre-conflict activities.
Phase Five is to destroy the enemy or clear the urban area of enemy re-
sistance. The advancing force repeats the activities of Phase Four as many
times as necessary in order to eliminate the combatants from contested
areas. The process will repeat as many times as necessary. The attacking
force advances as far as prudent so that the area gained can be consolidat-
ed. There are no standards and there are no approved solutions. In every
situation, the cycles and distances will be different. However, the last cycle
of advance and consolidate will result in the consolidation of the urban
area, which will enable Phase Six.
Phase Six is the transition to an appropriate urban control organiza-
tion or apparatus. Ironically, the advancing force transitions from being
the main effort and the supported force to being the shaping effort and a
supporting force. The organization assuming control of the urban area
may be the previous urban government from the host country, another
unit of the same unit fighting through the urban area, a higher echelon
unit, a military or civilian control organization of the country, or even a
military or civilian organization from countries other than the host coun-
try. The point is that the organization assuming control of the urban area
will be the legitimately elected/appointed apparatus and preferably, if at
all possible, not the unit that just completed the fighting. The US Army is
neither trained nor resourced well to transition smoothly and effectively
to a legitimate urban control authority. During Phase Six, the advancing

297
force continues to implement all offensive tasks, defensive tasks, enabling
tasks, forms of maneuver, and forms of defense as in the previous four
steps, but now the emphasis is on security operations, passages of lines,
and relief of unit responsibilities.
Conclusion
The division planning and fighting large-scale combat operations in an
urban environment performs the same functions as the division performs
in any other terrain, but the functions differ dependent on three variables.
The three variables are the dimensions of the urban terrain, the density of
the urban terrain, and the higher order of effects of the urban terrain. The
role of the division remains constant, even in large-scale combat opera-
tions in an urban environment. The division shapes the operations appro-
priately for the subordinate brigades, resources the subordinate brigades
appropriately for the assigned missions, and coordinates, synchronizes,
and sequences subordinate brigade actions in time and space. The division
is the enabler in the urban fight, empowering its brigades to meet the ene-
my within the parameters set by the division commander.

298
 Notes
1. Mark Zuehlke, Ortona: Street Fight (Vancouver: Orca Publishing, 2011),
18–19.
2. Department of the Army, Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-91, Divi-
sion Operations (Washington, DC: 2014), 1-1.
3. ATP 3-91.
4. ATP 3-91.
5. ATP 3-91.
6. ATP 3-91.
7. Department of the Army, Army Training Publication (ATP) 3-06, Urban
Operations (Washington, DC: 2017), 1-1.
8. ATP 3-06.
9. ATP 3-06, 1-16.
10. Russell W. Glenn, Heavy Matter: Urban Operations’ Density of Chal-
lenges (Santa Monica: RAND, 2000), 2.
11. Department of the Army, ATP 3-06, 2-4.
12. ATP 3-06, 2-11.
13. ATP 3-06, 2-5.
14. ATP 3-06, 3-6.
15. ATP 3-06, 4-7.
16. Department of the Army, Field Manual (FM) 90-10, Military Operations
on Urban Terrain (Washington, DC: 1999), 1-6.
17. James T. Quinlivan, “Burden of Victory,” Rand Review (Summer
2003): 28.
18. Mark Zuehlke, Ortona: Canada’s Epic World War II Battle (Vancouver:
Stoddard Publishing, 2011).
19. US Army Center of Military History, “Santa Maria Infante 1944” in
Publication 100-14, Small Unit Actions, (Washington DC: 1986), 115–74.
20. Robert Ross Smith, Triumph in the Philippines (Washington, DC: US
Army Center of Military History, 1993), 242–44.
21. Department of the Army, ATP 3-06, 1-3.
22. Sun Tzu, Art of War, trans. Samuel B. Griffith (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1963), 79.

299
 Contributors

Frederick A. Baillergeon
Frederick A. Baillergeon is a retired Infantry officer who served in
various command and staff positions from platoon to division level. He
presently serves as an assistant professor in the Department of Army Tac-
tics at the US Army Command and General Staff College. He has been a
part of the department for more than eighteen years. Baillergeon has had
more than 100 articles and 125 book reviews related to tactics and mili-
tary history published. He served as the first General George S. Patton Jr.
Chair of Tactical Studies.
Dennis S. Burket
Dennis S. Burket served more than thirty years on active duty as an In-
fantry noncommissioned officer (NCO) and officer. He currently serves as
an associate professor in the Department of Army Tactics at the US Army
Command and General Staff College and is the current General George S.
Patton Jr. Chair of Tactical Studies. Among his many active-duty assign-
ments, he served as the Deputy G5 Plans officer for the 101st Airborne
Division (Air Assault) and was an operations officer in the XVIII Airborne
Corps assault command post. A distinguished military graduate of the US
Army Officer Candidate School, Burket earned an MBA from Webster
University and an EdD from Kansas State University.
Michael T. Chychota
Michael T. Chychota is a graduate of the School of Advanced Mili-
tary Studies and is an assistant professor at the US Army Command and
General Staff College, where he has been teaching since retiring from the
Field Artillery in 1993. He currently serves in the Department of Army
Tactics and previously taught Tactics and Gunnery at the US Army Field
Artillery School. Operationally assigned to the 5th, 8th, and 25th Infantry
divisions, he served in various positions to include Chief, G3 Operations,
5th Infantry Division.
Russell G. Conrad
Russell G. Conrad was commissioned in 1982 and served in the Armor
and Field Artillery branches in both the Regular Army and Kansas Army
National Guard. He attended the Information Operations course at Camp

301
Johnson, Vermont, in 1999 and the Information Operations Qualification
Course at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in 2003. Conrad served twice as the
35th Infantry Division Information Operations Officer as well as its Chief
of Fires and G3. He is currently an assistant professor in the Department of
Army Tactics at the US Army Command and General Staff College.
James K. Dunivan
Colonel James K. Dunivan is an Armor officer who recently served as
the Director of the Department of Army Tactics at the US Army Command
and General Staff College. His previous assignments include a variety of
command and staff positions from platoon up to NATO staff, to include
command of 1st Squadron, 14th Cavalry and tours of duty in Iraq and
Afghanistan. He has multiple master’s degrees in History, Leadership and
Management, and Strategy.
Jason A. King
Lieutenant Colonel Jason A. King currently serves as an instructor
at the US Army Command and General Staff College in the Department
of Army Tactics. He has a bachelor’s degree in Business Administration
from Eastern Michigan University and a Master of Business Administra-
tion from The Ohio State University Fisher College of Business. King
previously served on the US Army Central Staff as the 1st SFG(A) Group
Aviation Officer, the 1-229th Attack Reconnaissance Battalion Executive
Officer, 1-291st Attack Battalion Operations Officer, and a 21st Caval-
ry Brigade Foreign Military Training Chief. He was an Attack Platoon
Leader with the 11th Aviation Regiment at the onset of Operation Iraqi
Freedom. Lieutenant Colonel King has twenty-one years of service and is
qualified in the AH-64D Longbow, AH-64E Guardian, and several small
unmanned aerial systems.
Marty M. Leners
Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Marty M. Leners is an Armor-Cavalry
officer with more than twenty-four years of tactical experience from pla-
toon to division. He served in the Federal Republic of Germany and the
Republic of Korea, as well as multiple combat tours in Iraq. Lieutenant
Colonel Leners graduated from the US Military Academy with a bach-
elor’s degree in European History and the US Marine Corps Command
and Staff College with a Master of Military Art and Science. He is also
a graduate of the Marine Corps School of Advanced Warfighting. Leners
is currently serving as an assistant professor and staff group advisor at

302
the US Army Command and General Staff College in the Department of
Army Tactics.
Trent J. Lythgoe
Lieutenant Colonel Trent J. Lythgoe is a US Army Aviation officer
currently serving as an instructor in the Department of Tactics at the US
Army Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
His previous assignments include a variety of command and staff posi-
tions, including two combat tours in Afghanistan and one combat tour in
Iraq. Lieutenant Colonel Lythgoe previously served as an observer/trainer
at the Mission Command Training Program (MCTP). He received a mas-
ter’s degree from Webster University and is pursuing a PhD in Political
Science at the University of Kansas.
Robert S. Mikaloff
Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Robert S. Mikaloff serves as an assistant
professor in the Department of Army Tactics at the US Army Command
and General Staff College. He has held that position since May 2007.
From 2005 until 2007, Mikaloff worked as a contract Military Analyst/
Intelligence Surveillance and Reconnaissance Subject Matter Expert first
for ARINC and then CAPSTONE. During 2004–05, he commanded 201st
Military Intelligence Battalion/Task Force 201—part of the 513th Military
Intelligence Brigade at Fort Gordon, Georgia. From 2001–04, Lieutenant
Colonel Mikaloff was the G2 of 10th Mountain Division serving in various
duties including G2 of Multinational Brigade East/Task Force Falcon in
Kosovo, C2 of Combined Task Force Mountain, and J2 of Combined Joint
Task Force 180 in Afghanistan. Other duties prior to his G2 billet includ-
ed tours as an Intelligence Plans officer for the 101st Airborne Division.
His military education includes the Post Graduate Intelligence Program,
Command and General Staff Officer’s Course (CGSOC), and School of
Advanced Military Studies (SAMS).
Kenneth J. Miller
Kenneth J. Miller is a retired Infantry officer who is currently serving
as an assistant professor in the Department of Tactics at the US Army Com-
mand and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. His previous
assignments include J5 Plans officer for CENTCOM, G3 Operations, 25th
Infantry Division, and multiple combat tours. He received a bachelor’s

303
degree in Education from Missouri State University and a master’s degree
in Human Resources from the University of Oklahoma.
Edward V. Rowe
Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Edward V. Rowe currently serves as
an assistant professor of tactics at the US Army Command and General
Staff College. He graduated from the US Military Academy with a bach-
elor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering (Automotive Systems) and has
a master’s degree in Management from Troy University and a Master of
Military Art and Science from the School for Advanced Military Studies
at the US Army Command and General Staff College. A career infantry-
man, Lieutenant Colonel Rowe previously served as Chief of Plans for
the XVIII Airborne Corps and Chief of Plans and Exercise for the 82nd
Airborne Division.
James D. Scrogin
Lieutenant Colonel James D. Scrogin currently serves as an instructor
and teaching team leader at the US Army Command and General Staff
College in the Department of Army Tactics. He has a bachelor’s degree in
Geography from Northwest Missouri State University, received a master’s
degree in National Security Strategy from American Military University
in 2009, and completed the School of Advanced Military Studies (SAMS)
in 2012. Lieutenant Colonel Scrogin is a career Field Artillery officer who
has served two tours in Iraq and two tours in Afghanistan. Additionally, he
served a tour as Professor of Military Science at Purdue University, West
Lafayette, Indiana.
Albert C. Stahl
Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Albert C. Stahl currently is an assistant
professor at the US Army Command and General Staff College in the De-
partment of Army Tactics. He graduated from Western Kentucky Univer-
sity with a bachelor’s degree in Agriculture and Therapeutic Recreation
and received a Master of Military Art and Science in 2001 from the School
of Advanced Military Studies. He is a retired lieutenant colonel and a ca-
reer Infantry officer who has had multiple overseas assignments.
Gregory M. Thomas
Gregory M. Thomas retired from active duty after twenty-one years
as an Infantry officer. He served at various posts in the continental Unit-
ed States and the Republic of Korea. He also participated in operational

304
deployments to Sinai and Kosovo, as well as combat in Operation Just
Cause and Operation Iraqi Freedom. Thomas received master’s degrees
from Louisiana State University and American Military University. He is
pursuing a PhD in Leadership and Organizational Change at Walden Uni-
versity. Currently, he is an assistant professor in the Department of Army
Tactics at the US Army Command and General Staff College.
Andrew A. Thueme
Andrew A. Thueme currently serves as an instructor and teaching
team leader at the US Army Command and General Staff College in the
Department of Army Tactics. He graduated from Central Michigan Uni-
versity with a bachelor’s degree in Industrial Technology Management.
He received a master’s degree in Engineering Management from Missouri
University of Science and Technology. Lieutenant Colonel Thueme is a
career Engineer officer who served four tours in Iraq, including tours as
the G5 EN Planner for United States Forces–Iraq and the 1ID/CJFLCC-I
Deputy Chief of Engineers. Additionally, he served as the EAB S3 O/C-T
& BEB S3 O/C-T at the National Training Center.
Michael D. Vick
Lieutenant Colonel Michael D. Vick served as an instructor at the US
Army Command and General Staff College in the Department of Army
Tactics. He graduated from Texas A&M University with a bachelor’s de-
gree in Journalism and received a master’s degree in English from the
University of Arizona. He commissioned as an Artillery officer in 1994,
and served in a variety of command and staff positions in the 3rd Armored
Cavalry Regiment, 18th Field Artillery Brigade, 304th Military Intelli-
gence Battalion, 2-289th Training Support Battalion, 210th Fires Brigade,
and 2nd Iraqi Army Brigade Military Transition Team. Additionally, he
was an Texas A&M Reserve Officer Training Corps instructor and exec-
utive officer, Creighton University Professor of Military Science, 1st In-
fantry Division Deputy Fire Support Coordinator and Joint Fires Advisor
to the Iraq Ministry of Defense, and Chief of Fires observer, coach, and
trainer in the Mission Command Training Program. Lieutenant Colonel
Vick currently teaches English at the US Military Academy.
Jonathan M. Williams
Jonathan M. Williams serves as an assistant professor with the De-
partment of Army Tactics, US Army Command and General Staff College,
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. He retired after twenty-two years of active

305
duty service as an Engineer officer. His service included tours of duty with
the 197th Infantry Brigade, the 132nd Engineer Brigade, the 36th Engi-
neer Group, the 1st Cavalry Division, III Armored Corps, the US Army
Engineer Center, and the Multinational Force and Observers, Sinai, Egypt,
as well as multiple deployments in the CENTCOM, EUCOM, AFRICOM,
and SOUTHCOM areas of responsibility. He also served as an instructor
at the US Military Academy at West Point, New York. A distinguished
military graduate of the University of Mississippi, Williams has master’s
degrees from the University of Alabama and Webster University and also
completed post-graduate studies at the University of South Carolina at Co-
lumbia, South Carolina, and The University of Oxford, Oxford, England.
He has served in the Tactics Department for fifteen years.
Sean A. Wittmeier
Lieutenant Colonel Sean A. Wittmeier served as an instructor at the
US Army Command and General Staff College. He graduated from The
Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina in 2001. He received a
master’s degree from the Missouri University of Science and Technology
and a master’s degree from Webster University of St. Louis, Missouri.
Lieutenant Colonel Wittmeier is a career Engineer officer with experience
leading bridge, sapper, construction, and brigade engineer battalion units.
Additionally, he served as a small group leader and instructor at the En-
gineer Captains Career Course and an observer controller team chief in
First Army. He served one tour in Iraq and three tours in Afghanistan.
Lieutenant Colonel Wittmeier is currently commander of 10th Brigade
Engineer Battalion at Fort Stewart, Georgia.

306
Burket

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