Building Coast Guard Leaders
By Lieutenant Commander William J. Wolter, U.S. Coast Guard
I have the best job in the Coast Guard. I lead my service's future officers through the shoal waters of the Coast Guard Academy to arrive at the safe harbor of graduation. The leadership skills I use are the same as those needed when I was the operations officer on the USCGC Tahoma (WMEC-908), except at the Academy the patrol is 200 weeks long. Everyday, I am challenged to set an example for the 110 cadets in Charlie Company, the "Cobras."
In developing these cadets, I apply a modified version of the Coast Guard's use of force continuum. Ninety percent of the cadets can make it through the Academy on their own. These I make better by challenging them, some to the level of a junior officer. On the other hand, there are 10% who need my active leadership in focusing their performance. I take on the role of parent, counselor, and coach to help them mature. I take on the role of disciplinarian to hold them accountable for their behavior. I take on the role of prosecutor to terminate their cadet appointment if they are unsuitable to be an officer. I use the "holding environment" provided by the Leadership Lab, called Chase Hall, to give cadets what they need to become officers in the Coast Guard. The sea calls, and there are cutters waiting for them.
During their four-year patrol, cadets adapt to the pressures, demands, and standards of the Academy. These demands are nonlinear and dynamic, just like our service. There is no "right" way to be a cadet. Cadets must make their own path while maintaining standards. The Leadership Lab focuses the cadet to accomplish the mission using standards, milestones, and judgments. Company officers focus on transformational leadership to help cadets adapt to the standards. The process and details of developing cadets do not change significantly on a day-to-day scale, but on an annual scale we make huge strides. Unfortunately, these strides are not always evident to cadets.
To illustrate what company officers do to develop Coast Guard Academy cadets, I offer three vignettes from my service as company officer of the Charlie Cobras. These vignettes are derived from the cadets' own experiences as a result of their choices. Most cadets learn from their Academy experiences on their own—the shock of military lifestyle, grades, watches, summer training, family tragedies, performance reports, peer evaluations, demerits, investigations, hearings, and friends who leave the program. Some situations, however, require that company officers extract lessons, providing individualized and personalized case-study instruction.
Principles
The company officer's mission is to prepare cadets for their first tours on cutters. This first tour is critical to setting their service attitude as officers. It is an 18-month lab—a final cadet exam. This first tour opens and closes doors depending on an ensign's performance. With recent afloat experience and operational backgrounds, company officers impart to cadets their experiences as junior officers and supervisors of junior officers (commanding officers, executive officers, operations officers, and pilots in command). A company officer gives cadets opportunities to avoid mistakes—like a feedback loop from the operational Coast Guard to improve junior officer development at the Academy.
A first-class cadet was standing in-port duty on a cutter when he found a camera on the mess deck. He secured it in his locker. He then used the camera, scratched off the name that was on it, and lost the film that it contained. He did not turn the camera in to the lucky bag officer, did not attempt to find out whom the camera belonged to for more than a month, and did not acknowledge the owner's inquiries. The cadet was disenrolled for theft. This was a difficult institutional decision because in almost every other performance aspect this cadet was outstanding. I had seen his academic work, seen his work ethic, and found him professional. However, he failed a crucial test: his integrity was found to be lacking. He had violated the Coast Guard's core values of honor and duty. He was not suitable to graduate from the Coast Guard Academy because he was not a leader of character.
Performance
Discipline is the core of the Academy's cadet program. Company officers challenge cadets to be people "who are strong in their resolve to build on the long military and maritime heritage and proud accomplishments of the United States Coast Guard." Cadets must learn to discipline themselves.
Company officers actively challenge cadets about their behavior and how it measures up to the Coast Guard's core values of honor, respect, and devotion to duty. Through the example of their officers and being held accountable for their behavior, cadets learn what it means to "practice individual responsibility and accountability, teamwork and continuous improvement."
I was privileged to know an academically intelligent cadet who also was the class clown. She was always cutting up and trying hard to be different. She earned a few demerits but did not really get into much trouble. Then first-class year arrived, which has half the allowable demerit total as fourth-class year. She earned a couple of Class IIs, which are midrange punishments. This would not have been all that bad except that she had earned some other demerits and was now at 50% of her allowable total in December. She was on track to be disenrolled. This caught her attention. She stopped performing in class, which got her instructor, advisor, and myself talking. We teamed up and determined a strategy to get this cadet to perform to standards and, more important, to mature to be ready to become an officer. It worked. The cadet got the message and the lessons, but it took patience and a concerted effort by faculty, a coach, and a company officer to make it happen. The cadet determined that her desire to become an officer was stronger than her desire to maintain her immature behavior. She chose to complete the mission.
Parenting
The first year as a company officer is a perspective-altering event. Most lieutenants assigned to the mission have yet to deal with people on this large scale. I was an operations officer on a 270-foot medium-endurance cutter and had trained my share of junior officers, usually in batches of three. Leading 110 Cobras seemed an awesome task. However, there is a military command culture in the Leadership Lab and the main focus is the 25 first-class cadets, who are capable yet inexperienced. This 25:1 ratio still is daunting, but that is the challenge—to create a functioning military company using these first-class cadets every semester.
I remember one lovely August Friday when the week was winding down. I was finishing my administrative issues before heading home for the weekend. At 1550, ten minutes after classes had been dismissed, there was a knock at my door from a fourth-class cadet requesting permission to enter. I could see she was agitated as I asked her to take a seat. She proceeded to tell me her current woes and desire to leave the Academy. She understood that it would take a week to process out, but she wanted to start immediately.
The school year barely had started and I knew this cadet to be an upbeat performer. However, at this moment, she was mentally fatigued beyond her experience and wanted to alleviate her temporary situation with a permanent solution. So I asked her to think about it over the weekend, talk to her parents, and see me next Monday. The weekend passed. Monday came and then Tuesday—no sign of my fourth-class cadet. Finally, I asked the cadet to stop by and let me know what she had decided. She came to my office and told me that it was a momentary loss of faith and that she was back on track to graduation.
The pride I feel as the cadets walk to the graduation podium is akin to the pride I feel in the accomplishments of my own children. I am proud to have served in this noble tradition of making officers. I hope my performance was worthy of the traditions of the long blue waves of officers who taught me what it means to serve as a Coast Guard officer. I have endeavored to pass on what I was taught to the next generation of Coasties.
Developing Leaders for 125 Years
By Chief Warrant Officer David Santos, U.S. Coast Guard
Nestled in the shoreline town of New London, Connecticut, on the west bank of the Thames River, lies the U.S. Coast Guard Academy, one of this country's four federal military service academies. From the outside, it is a sprawling New England campus with more than 100 acres of rolling hills and Georgian- style brick buildings. Along the waterfront, a fleet of small boats clusters around America's Tall Ship, the training barque Eagle (WIX-327).
From the inside, the Academy is an institution like no other. It is the most selective college in the country, according to the Kaplan/Newsweek College Catalogue 2001, and the center of leadership training for the smallest armed service in the United States. Beginning in 1876 on board the school ship Dobbin and continuing through the establishment of the Leadership Development Center in 1998, the Coast Guard Academy has had a long and storied past.
From 1790, U.S. Revenue Cutter Service had drawn its officers from the merchant marine and occasionally from the Navy. In 1876, service leaders developed a program of instruction to ensure consistent training for their officer corps. This program was conducted mostly on board ship and often out at sea.
Training on board the Dobbin immersed cadets in the duties and responsibilities of a deck watch officer, and according to the first graduate, Worth G. Ross, "the strictest obedience to every detail was enforced." A topsail schooner, the Dobbin was obtained and originally home ported in Baltimore, Maryland, but moved to a more suitable location in New Bedford, Massachusetts, in 1877.
Revenue Cutter Service officials chose the north end of Fish Island in New Bedford as homeport for the Dobbin and the school ship Chase, then under construction. The harbor was a snug winter home in an area close to the business district, isolated by the channel and protected by the island.
The 115-foot barque-rigged clipper Chase was completed in 1878 and named for President Abraham Lincoln's Secretary of the Treasury, Salmon P. Chase. The cutter was specially built for the corps of cadets and when not out training was home ported in New Bedford until 1889.
In 1890, the school temporarily closed and Revenue Cutter Service officers came from a surplus of graduates from the U.S. Naval Academy. But an expansion of the Navy depleted the number of cadets available, prompting President Grover Cleveland to reopen the school four years later, in 1894.
Coast Guard historians refer to the 1890s as "the gypsy years" of the Academy, because no permanent home port was established until the turn of the century. This was a time of great transition for the institution. The newly reopened School of Instruction entered a period of expansion that would last for decades, when the Chase moved to Curtis Bay, Maryland in 1900.
The 65-acre Curtis Bay campus consisted of a carpenter shop, boat shed, storehouse, the Academy classroom building, a dwelling, and a dock for the school ship. The classroom building was the first schoolhouse for the School of Instruction.
When the 190-foot cutter Itasca replaced the Chase in 1907, it ushered in a new age of shipboard training. The barquentine-rigged vessel was a former Navy training ship with more modern equipment and steam engines that could power the cutter when sailing was not possible. The Itasca had room for 50 students, allowing a larger number of cadets to train.
Ten years later, service officials looking to expand the school further persuaded the War Department to turn over a historic old fort in New London, Connecticut. It was at Fort Trumbull where the groundwork was laid to broaden the curriculum and eventually establish a four-year program.
At Trumbull the name of the institution changed from the U.S. Revenue Cutter School of Instruction to U.S. Revenue Cutter Academy. In 1915 several agencies merged with the Revenue Cutter Service to form the U.S. Coast Guard, and the name of the school was changed again to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy.
Although it now was primarily a land-based institution, shipboard training remained a fundamental part of the curriculum and culture of the institution. In 1922, the 168-foot barquentine-rigged cutter Hamilton replaced the aging Itasca. The Hamilton served as a Navy gunboat in the Spanish American War and was named for the father of the Coast Guard, Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton. The coal-fired cutter, which was powered by a triple expansion engine and equipped with an old Scotch boiler, served until 1930.
When the city of New London offered the Academy a large parcel of land near the Thames River, the Coast Guard was able to realize its goal of establishing an enduring institution. On 15 May 1931, the Secretary of the Treasury, Andrew Mellon, laid the cornerstone for the present U.S. Coast Guard Academy. A four-year program was implemented in 1932.
Ten years later, the Danmark, a square-rigged Danish sail training ship was sailing in U.S. waters when the Nazis overran Denmark. The ship's captain placed the vessel and crew at the disposal of the U.S. government and was assigned to the Academy to reestablish a large-scale sail training program. The captain and his crew remained on board the Danmark and helped train cadets at the academy throughout the war years.
Today, the 295-foot barque Eagle is the primary seagoing classroom for future Coast Guard leaders. Originally christened the Horst Wessel by the Germans, the ship was one of four training vessels operated by the German Navy during World War II. It was taken as a war prize in 1946 and sailed back to New London by a mixed Coast Guard and German crew. Well-known today as America's Tall Ship and from Operation Sail events, the Eagle continues the Academy's 125-year sail training tradition.
When the Leadership Development Center was established in 1998, a number of leadership training programs were moved to the Academy. The institution is now the center for leadership development for the entire service, military and civilian, officer and enlisted. Each year the Academy graduates more than 200 newly commissioned ensigns, and it now trains hundreds of other members to lead the smallest U.S. military service.
Resurrection of an Old Concept: Sea Basing
By Major Chris Wagner, U.S. Marine Corps
The 2001 Quadrennial Defense Review QDR) and subsequent formal guidance directed further development of seabasing capabilities as a means to project and sustain forces. While sea basing is of benefit to all services, the Marine Corps and Navy properly have the lead in this effort. The sea-basing concept calls for inserting forces from the sea into an objective area and providing command and control, and logistics, aviation, and fire support from a sea base. By substantially reducing the footprint of U.S. forces ashore and thereby increasing the versatility and mobility of maneuver elements, sea bases give planners a highly responsive force projection option.
The Marine Corps and Navy began devoting serious attention to the sea-basing concept in the late 1960s. During the Vietnam War, Marine infantry battalions routinely went on operations for more than 30 days, supported by a complex array of air and ground support and an extensive medical evacuation framework. At the same time, Marine forces (similar to current Marine expeditionary units) were embarked in amphibious ships to be available for landings and other operations along the coast of South Vietnam. In the early 1970s, the Marine Corps and Navy sponsored an ongoing sea-basing study that led to Fleet Marine Force Manual 4-9 (Landing Force Logistics Afloat), a prescriptive work that remains pertinent. By the late 1970s, Marine Corps interests were shifting from sea basing to operations ashore-until they refocused on sea basing in the operational maneuver from the sea (OMFTS) studies of the early 1990s.
The OMFTS concept was developed to create tactical synergy through integration of forces afloat and ashore, and it was instrumental in justifying major acquisition programs, such as the advanced amphibious assault vehicle and the MV-22 Osprey. Many would argue that the Marine Corps and Navy employ seabased forces on a regular basis. In fact, their forces lack the capabilities needed to maintain sea bases on a scale that would meet the demands of sustained operations. Naval forces are forward positioned; but once they move ashore, large—and often unwieldy—support contingents must accompany them. Only the aviation combat element of the Marine air-ground task force (MAGTF) can operate and sustain itself from a sea base. Thus, after more than 30 years of study and experimentation, the U.S. armed forces still lack a sea-basing capability.
Several obstacles have prevented the sea-basing concept from progressing to programs, starting with confusion over the meaning of sea basing:
- Sea basing is not a revolutionary change. It is the logical next step in evolving naval expeditionary operations—provided the Navy and Marine Corps will commit to the concept.
- Sea basing does not supersede other types of operations. It is another arrow in the military quiver. The MAGTF must be able to operate ashore in the absence of sea-based support, with the understanding that its capabilities can be enhanced greatly by sea-based resources. With his logistics tail embarked offshore, the MAGTF commander has more freedom to devote himself to tactical operations ashore.
- Sea basing is not dependent on materiel solutions. It does not require a special class of ship. The key to implementation lies in organizational, doctrinal, and procedural changes needed in the landing force, sea base, and across the full range of support facilities and systems.
Modern MAGTFs are considerably more lethal than their Vietnam counterparts. The price paid for increased lethality has been additional personnel, equipment, weapons, and supplies, all of which translate to much greater transportation and logistic support requirements. Large, heavy forces may be ideal for sustained operations inland, but they are not conducive to sea basing. In addition to its current capabilities, the Marine Corps should develop efficient methods for supporting maneuver forces without the need to establish permanent logistic bases ashore.
Amphibious ships normally will make up the nucleus of the sea base. Other ship types can be included to meet the functional requirements of deployed forces. Because sea bases integrate ships that do not operate together as a rule, they offer opportunities for development of useful new cross-support arrangements. For example, logistic support could be provided by amphibious ships to surface combatants and by carrier battle groups to Marine units. The combat logistics fleet that provides logistic support primarily to carrier battle groups could be modified to carry certain items and supplies for MAGTFs. Capitalizing on this kind of throughput will be an essential step in developing a sea-basing capability.
Sea base command-and-control capabilities must be seamless in all functional areas of naval warfare. The MAGTF's capabilities must integrate fully with Navy components. This poses a thorny problem because command and control is enabled by systems, but it is doctrine- and organization-centric. Getting systems to interact is relatively simple—getting organizations (and their internal processes) to read off the same sheet of music is much harder.
In sea basing, most artillery support ashore would be replaced by naval gunfire. There are distinct advantages to naval gunfire support in combination with close air support, but the advantages diminish as maneuver forces progress inland. Naval gunfire has a range of about 15 miles, which does not sustain the OMFTS vision of operations 175 miles inland (or even the 1970s vision of 50 miles). Advances in propellants can close this gap at the cost of increased times-of-flight for projectiles and reduced rates of fire. Improvements in command and control and fire control could improve effectiveness of fire support from a sea base. However, unless a responsive and effective artillery-like alternative is found, planners should anticipate that maneuver forces ashore will become more and more dependent on close air support as they advance inland.
The chief benefit of sea basing is reduction of the logistic footprint ashore. In the right amounts, logistic support facilitates and smoothes operations. Too much or too little of it constrains operations. An especially tough issue for logisticians in the sea-based scenario is to ensure that support is provided in the right amounts when and where it is needed. The first goal in the Marine Corps' logistics campaign plan for 2001 is to enhance and develop logistics capabilities—including seabased logistics—to support emerging warfighting concepts. To accomplish this, the Corps has to redefine its logistic responsibilities and procedures as a matter of priority.
Operating efficiently in an integrated sea-based environment requires that Marine Corps ground logistics be naval in character. Insight into achieving this can be gained from studying Marine aviation logistics. The MAGTF air combat element can operate effectively from a sea base because the preponderance of its maintenance and logistic support is tied closely to Navy aviation doctrine and systems. Marine aviation uses the same supply chain as the Navy and its maintenance capabilities are integrated with amphibious ships. This provides long "reach-back" capabilities and access to Navy distribution channels—something that has eluded the ground side because so many of its support requirements are not naval in character. Wherever feasible, reorganizing ground combat and combat support logistics within Navy systems would streamline the supply chain, reduce deployed inventories, and enable the MAGTF to maintain and reconstitute equipment in the sea base. The goal is to reach uninterrupted sustainment instead of reaching for higher levels of designated days-of-supply on hand.
In addition to improving logistics functions and structures, the logistic requirements generated by maneuver elements ashore must be minimized. Otherwise, establishment of bases and repair facilities ashore is a foregone conclusion. In sea basing, contact teams would be sent forward to make repairs when and where they are needed, and returned to their ship when work is completed. The advantages of this support concept are that contact teams can be tailored to specific missions and permanent logistic footprints ashore can be eliminated; a limitation is the heavy transportation requirements that would be levied. In any case, maintenance problems will be reduced if future ground tactical equipment is designed with a lower probability of failure. Fielding durable equipment starts on the drawing board and continues through the materiel life-cycle support process.
Challenges to developing a sea-basing capability for the United States are not insurmountable. And the use of sea bases is not limited to amphibious operations. They can be used for conducting other missions, such as mine sweeping, maritime interdiction, and special operations ranging from reconnaissance to offensive action. In a 30 October speech at Panama City, Florida, Commandant of the Marine Corps General Jim Jones found it "incredible" that special operations forces had to "commandeer" an aircraft carrier because they could not be land-based for operations in Afghanistan.
In an era when it appears land bases are growing scarce, sea bases have the potential to reduce naval requirements for forward bases—or at least to reduce the size of them. General Jones summed up the benefits of sea basing well: It enables us to employ "robust air and ground forces at a time and place of our choosing." Now, the sea-basing effort needs aggressive Navy and Marine direction and funding to take it from concept to reality.
Defend the Standing Naval Force Mediterranean
By Lieutenant James W. Harney, U.S. Navy
The year is 2002. The frigate Barbaros, Turkey's representative in the eight-ship NATO Standing Naval Force Mediterranean (SNFM), is patrolling her assigned sector while taking part in the force's mission: enforcing United Nations sanctions against Serbia by interdicting inbound and outbound shipping along the Montenegrin coast. Throughout the three-month deployment, the operators on most of the ships had lost their edge and become complacent in the face of day-in, day-out patrols and boardings along the Adriatic coast.
The boredom combined with the fact that the U.S. Navy was not providing Aegis-capable warships to the SNFM; instead, its practice had been to assign aging Spruance (DD-963)-class destroyers or Oliver Hazard Perry (FFG-7)-class frigates to the force. And the result was failure to detect the antiship cruise missile launched by a Yugoslavian guided-missile patrol boat that had intermixed with heavy "background" shipping in the Adriatic.
The German destroyer Lutjens—a U.S. ship refitted by Germany—was designated as air warfare command ship of the force. It detected the inbound cruise missile just moments before it hit the Barbaros. The Lutjens's combat system was unable to pick up the threat soon enough and her operators initially mistook the limited radar video they received on the target as background clutter. So, her primary watch officer did not have time to get a Standard SM-I missile on the rail to engage the enemy and assist the Barbaros.
Although obviously fictitious, this kind of action could happen—sooner rather than later, given international tensions since 11 September. Aegis-capable Standard SM-2 missile shooters have been noticeably absent from the SNFM since the U.S. Navy started participating in the commitment. Most U.S. ships that have deployed with the force have been armed with the NATO Sea Sparrow's limited point defense capability or the reduced area defense of the SM-1 missile—and no three-dimensional radar to help the force commander keep track of the overall tactical picture.
The operational tempo in the Adriatic and Mediterranean has increased over the past decade, and the SNFM increasingly has been used to conduct sea-control missions in and around the littorals. As it has operated ever closer to expected threats, it has had to depend on ships armed with aging weapons and supporting systems. Even with periodic upgrades, to rely on these old systems is to invite disaster.
If and when the Navy decides to assign an Aegis ship to the SNFM, there will be interoperability problems between U.S. Link 16 automatic data transmission systems and the rest of the force, which is equipped with the older Link 11 system. The force commander's flagship normally is of his or her country. However, if the flag is not on the Aegis ship, the commander will be unable to maintain a full tactical picture. In addition, this inadequacy is likely to be compounded by many of the allies' ongoing problems with link accuracy.
Technologies of the 1960s and 1970s will take the SNFM only so far against adversaries willing and able to acquire new antiship cruise missiles and high-speed attack boats. The best defense in the complex littorals is the integrated, three-dimensional, long-range weapon system that U.S. Aegis cruisers and destroyers can provide.
As a matter of priority, the Navy should assign Aegis ships to the role of permanent SNFM flagship (and air warfare command ship) on the same six-month rotational schedule used for Spruances and Oliver Hazard Perrys. This would give the SNFM the greatly improved computer-to-operator interface of the Aegis combat system and provide the degree of security that the force has long needed.
Build Trust with the Media
By Commander Marcus Woodring, U.S. Coast Guard
I am amazed that military personnel continue to be surprised by the media's lack of trust in the services. What does the media have to base trust on and why do they doubt our good intentions? Consider $700-dollar toilet seats, $300-dollar hammers, and countless far more important pieces of information the military did not make public soon enough.
The Coast Guard rule of thumb in public affairs is: maximum disclosure with minimum delay. If the media can get a document through the freedom of information act system, do not add to your paperwork—simply release the information via your public affairs shop. Honesty and cooperation before the onset of difficult situations will pay big dividends later.
Another prime rule is: if you do not tell the media what is going on, they will broadcast their own opinions or find somebody else to give them a quote. The media's opinions are based largely on selling advertising. The more sensational they can make it, the more people will watch and the more money their newspapers or networks will make. It is dangerous to let the media operate in a vacuum because they surely will find something to fill it. As for somebody else giving quotes, think back to the USS Greeneville (SSN-772) incident. Who was seen initially on the nightly news, the grieving families or a sharp military person providing facts and details? Which would have served the Navy and the American public best?
Recently, these stories came rushing back to me as I read an article in my local newspaper under the headline, "Online Voting for Soldiers Cost $6.2 million." It explained that the Pentagon ran an experiment that allowed soldiers overseas to vote via the Internet; the program gathered only 84 ballots at a cost of $74,000 dollars per ballot. A Pentagon spokesman stated that the purpose of the program was to test the feasibility of Internet voting rather than to save money. "This is a demonstration project that was to prove the concept as opposed to looking at it on a cost-per-vote basis." The scheme would strike anyone as an incredible waste of money. But instead of owning up to an obvious mistake, the spokesman threw gas on the fire—and the media merely repeated the Pentagon's story to the people the military works for on a daily basis.
It is time for the military to correct misinformation situations—self-inflicted and otherwise—and begin to build trust. As the former public affairs officer (PAO) for the Seventh Coast Guard District in Miami, Florida, I learned a number of lessons worth passing along to PAOs and other service members as well.
- Relationships with subordinate units. Public affairs officer should know the people at their units. Which units seek public affairs opportunities? Does each one have a sharp spokesman you have met? When did you last train them? Are you informed promptly of urgent public affairs matters in their areas? When crises occur, the linkage you have established with your units will pay dividends.
- Relationships with other agencies. Do you know the PAOs at the other agencies in town, including the Drug Enforcement Administration, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Border Patrol, local police, and others? I had to interact with such agencies on countless occasions—for example, to establish a "unified command" in response to a plane crash, a tanker grounding, a drug bust at sea, and a space shuttle launch. When the Coast Guard convened a court-martial on a Navy base, we worked with the Navy PAO to have all media calls routed to the Coast Guard. After learning that the Immigration and Naturalization Service had a weekly TV show on the local Public Broadcasting System station, we were able to appear as guests and pass the word to the local population on the dangers of illegal immigration.
- Relationships with local interest groups. In south Florida, the Coast Guard has contacts with Cuban exile groups, such as Brothers to the Rescue and the Democracia Movement. During protest flotillas to Cuba, PAOs often act as liaison between the exile groups and the Coast Guard. By attending many events to give the Coast Guard side of the story, I built a personal relationship with many Cuban community leaders. When the Democracia Movement leader disappeared one evening and it was feared he had taken a boat and headed for Havana, the Coast Guard command center called me. Idialed his cell phone number and discovered he was enjoying Cuban coffee at a Key West bed and breakfast. The great sense of relief at the command center—and the White House—resulted from our personal relationship, without which I could not possibly have gotten his private number.
- Relationships with other staff elements. Building relationships with other departments or staffs in a large command is an interesting challenge. Normally, the PAO is very junior in rank compared to other department heads and buried deep in a department. However, when a crisis hits, he or she must work constantly with captains and admirals. Knowing the staff by name and office is critical to becoming part of the inner circle of every unit—an informal collection of trusted people that is called together at the first sign of a crisis. The PAO should be a key player, but often can be out of the loop and left to deal with the resulting bad press. The inevitable information overload that comes with inner circle membership is far preferable to being left in the dark.
- Relationships with the media. This is the most important part of PAO duties. At the Seventh Coast Guard District, public affairs personnel visited each television studio in the area once a year. They took a few days to drive to each one to meet news desk people and reporters. That is the way to get your stories aired. (Can you name three reporters and the news desk person at each station in your town?) As regional PAO, I touched base with media representatives whenever I traveled to other cities in the district. A reporter from Reuters News Service called before I left Miami and asked me to lunch. Figuring he wanted to pick my brain for "insider information," I was happy to find that his purpose instead was to announce his promotion to Caribbean bureau chief. It was a wonderful relationship to have.
Public affairs personnel cannot excel unless they know their customers and suppliers. They must receive as much information as possible and then quickly distill it into information for the media. Relationships mean everything—they generate trust and minimize the external "spin" that can be so harmful to public perceptions of the armed forces.
Public affairs officers must deal with the public daily and know who is on the other end of the phone. That kind of routine will pay off handsomely and repeatedly. So, get out of your chairs. Visit and meet the people around your units and throughout your areas of responsibility.
From Officer to Entrepreneur
By Lieutenant Colonel James W. Hodges, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
Our commanding general had hatched the idea of each pay grade hosting monthly parties. My direct boss had been put me in charge of the previous event and passed the duty to me with the understanding I would be excused from hosting for the rest of the year. Now, in the middle of a wetting-down party for a newly promoted colonel, I was eye-to-eye with our gnarly-faced, three-star general in the Quantico Officers' Club. Since I had been passed over for promotion earlier that month, the gathering was less than a happy occasion for me.
"Hodges, you're going to throw the best officers' party in Marine Corps history," the general said. Believing it definitely was not my turn, I said, "You might remember, sir, I ran last month's affair and was told I was off the hook." The general pressed on. "You obviously don't understand—you're in charge of the next party." Struggling to hold my ground, I got fired up. "I ran the party last month because none of your brain-dead colonels could do it. I'm not doing that again." "You're going to throw the biggest officers' party in history next month," he reiterated. "Would it be possible for me to talk with the Commandant or the Secretary of the Navy?" I asked, attempting belatedly to toss some humor into a rapidly deteriorating situation. Turning and walking away, the general said, "You can talk to anyone you want to—the day after the party."
So, there I was, a passed-over officer in the wake of a hostile engagement with my general. On hearing I had failed promotion, I felt utter despair, anger, and fear. Although I could continue to serve, my career was over for all intents and purposes. The final blow was getting stuck with a ridiculous social event that would do nothing for my derailed career. I was a lost dog in high weeds.
Fortunately, a friend intervened. He convinced me the general would not take no for an answer. "I will act as your exec—we can do this." We went all out and arranged the party on such a massive scale that we had to overcome outdated guidelines that had long since been set in concrete—including a long list of cannots, do nots, and things that had never been done before (so why now?). My friend acted as DJ and warmed up the crowd. When the band cranked up, the place went wild. It was the best party held at Quantico in years, with 500 people in attendance. And the general appreciated our work. Not long thereafter, he arranged for me to command another battalion, greatly boosting my likelihood of promotion. But it was too late—I was already gone.
Transition's Magic Moment
Because of that party, my resume had an anchor. The general made me do a job I did not know I was cut out for. Otherwise, even with 25 years service (12 in command assignments) there was little about my career that an employer could grasp. An unsuccessful—but valuable—interview with Chrysler showed me that the corporate world was not for me. During further networking, I ran into a former Marine who worked for a nonprofit association. As association work also did not appeal to me, he mentioned a retired colonel in the convention business. After I contacted him, he was kind enough to set up a number of interviews. The best was with a convention services company. During my final interview, the boss's wife and son joined us for lunch. The son, a former Army captain, apparently was to determine if I was over being called "colonel." The wife was to decide if I fit into their family business. Small talk led us to a mutual acquaintance, a great basketball player from their Illinois hometown. When I mentioned his name, the boss dropped his fork; his wife and son faded from the scene. I thought I had put a foot in my mouth. But, after announcing the ballplayer was his best friend, he hired me on the spot. My resume had intrigued him initially and led to interviews because it highlighted the process I learned running the officers' party—maneuvering around bureaucratic nay sayers to get missions accomplished.
Now What?
Once you get hired, it is important to keep networking your heart out at every opportunity. It will pay off for you and your company. During the first month at my new job, I handed out 500 business cards, attended eight networking events, and joined several professional associations. Yet I landed only one small sale in four months. I was discouraged and my boss was giving me the fisheye. Then suddenly my efforts paid off—a major hotel and national association agreed to use our services in a $5-million contract.
As part of the job, my boss insisted I spend time with my friend, the retired colonel (coincidentally, his best client). He did not know the colonel was a sort of "godfather" to me. A year later, I sold my company's calendar-year capacity by February. Noting that I had proved myself in the convention industry, the colonel suggested I join him in starting a recruiting business. "I'll put up the bucks; Jim—you put up the sweat." It was time to move on.
Our original concept was to place technical personnel who were leaving the services. Given the downsizing of the active force, it looked like a million-dollar idea. However, reality was another story. Many of the enlisted people with special security clearances and technical experience wanted to go home. Unfortunately, there are few government contractors at home. Most of the senior officers wanted to be in charge; it was hard to place them because companies already have chief executive officers and vice presidents.
After about six months of trying to turn swords into plowshares, the information technology explosion caused us to shift to placing candidates from all sources. Following hundreds of phone calls, I made a few placements. Never in my life did I want to quit more often. Finally, through long hours and countless rejections, we built a recruiting business by sheer hard work and relentless focus on what makes things happen—people. We never forgot we were working with and for people, not equipment and paper. I place people in companies where people decide. Last December, I was able to buy out the colonel.
Building a Business
If you would prefer not to work for another boss and want your own deal, gather enough cash to cover two times your anticipated monthly expenses for two years. Your costs will be twice what you estimate and you cannot count on making a dime for a while. Then set your hours: plan on working any 80 hours a week, spread over six or seven days. Before long, your old bosses will not look all that bad.
To reach clients, I attended military-related trade shows and acquired some defense contractors. As in my first civilian job, luck played a part. I kept calling a human resources person, leaving messages for "John." When I met him by chance at a major event, I saw that his name was "Sean." He remembered me (largely because I called him the wrong name) and steered me to the right places in his large and very successful company.
In the beginning we found candidates through the Department of Defense; now we use our extensive networks and expensive online, resume databases. The key to the placement process is the last 1% of the evolution. After you find, screen, prepare, and present the candidate, you must arrange interviews and facilitate an offer. Then you get to the difficult part-convincing the candidate to accept it. To be a good recruiter, you must master the "close." Above all, do what is right and do not attempt to make good candidate-to-client fits out of ones that are obviously bad.
Forced but Fortunate
A general forced me to excel. Desperation forced me to use the bureaucratic network I was trying to escape. Others forced me to use selling skills I scarcely knew I had. A financial backer urged me to start a recruiting business. Unprepared military candidates and the job market forced me into information technology recruiting. Last but not least, my farmer-inherited work ethic forced me to bust my butt.
Few former career officers want to be entrepreneurs. Some are compelled to by nature of their independent spirits and outgoing personalities. A risk taker by nature, I have learned to think on my feet, assess dynamic situations, and adjust quickly. This approach has brought me a certain degree of notoriety—negative as well as positive—however, there is no such thing as bad publicity. I encourage all officers who have similar strengths and passion to join me. There is plenty of room out here if you are willing to be your own organization man.
Enterprise Does Maritime Interception
By Chief Journalist Mark O. Piggott, U.S. Navy
It is 0600 as the sun rises slowly over the Arabian Gulf. In the distance, a 200-foot tanker is heading south along the Khawr Abd-Allah waterway. It could be smuggling oil out of Iraq. What do you do? That was one of the actual situations that USS Enterprise (CVN-65) sailors faced during maritime interception operations (MIO) in the Arabian Gulf this past August. She had volunteered to provide boarding teams to augment teams of various ships involved in enforcing United Nations sanctions on Iraq.
The campaign against terrorism has caused planners to restudy the range of threats facing the United States; thus, maritime interception has taken on increased importance since the attacks of 11 September. "On most ships, this is a collateral duty, something you're assigned to do," said Lieutenant (junior grade) Loren S. Reinke, assistant first lieutenant and boarding officer for one of the Enterprise's 12-man teams. "The sailors from the 'Big E' were volunteers, motivated to do the job. They were all very professional."
The boarding team consisted of three two-man search teams—for the bridge, engineering, and cargo and living quarters—a four-man security force, and two boarding officers. Their mission was to secure and account for all crewmembers, ensure the ship was seaworthy, and search for smuggled and other illegal goods in compliance with U.N. sanctions. The team conducted five boardings during operations in the northern Arabian Gulf. Their week began with a short-notice boarding after the HMAS Anzac apprehended a smuggler and needed a crew to move the ship to a holding area. The Enterprise team responded quickly, flying to the Australian ship and transferring from her to the target ship, which they sailed to the designated anchorage.
After that mission, the team moved to the USS Philippine Sea (CG-58) for a week of concentrated work. The team's success owed to the preparatory visit, board, search, and seizure (VBSS) training they received on the Enterprise. Recognizing that frigate, cruiser, and destroyer crews were stretched severely in the fast-paced atmosphere of the Arabian Gulf, the carrier had conducted MIO training prior to arriving in the area. It was run by one of the creators of VBSS training, Lieutenant Michael D. Grose, a propulsion plant watch officer who previously had taught the course at the Expeditionary Warfare Training Group Atlantic. The tight-and noisy-space on the carrier was a far cry from teaching in state-of-the-art classrooms, but the enthusiasm and attentiveness of his students made up for any discomfort.
With the help of two able assistants, Lieutenant Grose trained 30 sailors on the Enterprise during two three-day sessions and 30 sailors on the USS Arctic (AOE-8) in one four-day session. On arrival in the Arabian Gulf, the trainees were given a rigorous three-day assessment by the maritime intercept commander and they passed with flying colors. "The VBSS is not a conventional warfare evolution," Lieutenant Grose said. "We are dealing with foreign civilians, so we follow a 'use of force continuum' similar to that used in security and peacekeeping missions." The force continuum allowed boarding team members to adjust their reactions to situations as necessary, from nonlethal pepper spray to deadly force. To prepare them for the widest variety of contingencies and gauge their ability to react properly and quickly, sailors were put in many different exercise scenarios.
The training paid off. "Every scenario they trained us for happened at one time or another," said Aviation Ordnanceman Second Class Raymond Collett, a member of the boarding team security force. "When we did our first boarding, everything went like clockwork because everyone knew what their job was and what they had to do." Debriefings after each boarding enabled the team to grow and learn from each mission.
Once a vessel was secured, the team began searching it and verifying the cargo on board. Going through all the paperwork—such as bills of lading, port clearances, and cargo manifests—can be a tedious process, especially if boarders are not familiar with what they are looking for. All ships inbound to and outbound from Iraq were taken to a special anchorage area. Though it all, the teams never let down their guard. "The biggest fear is not knowing what's aboard the suspect vessel until you begin your search," Collett said. "You could be dealing with smugglers," he continued. "They could say they're carrying cardboard, when in fact they're carrying weapons."
The boarding team's first priorities of the boarding team were to ensure boarded vessels were seaworthy and that no fire or flooding hazards endangered them. Effective communications were essential during boarding missions. "Only a few people spoke English," noted Chief Damage Controlman Timothy DePow, the engineering search team leader. "We did a lot of finger pointing and writing things down to explain what we wanted done."
After a week on board the Philippine Sea, the boarding team returned to the Enterprise satisfied with their performance under difficult and uncertain circumstances. Team leader Lieutenant Reinke summed up the commitment neatly: "I would have liked to have done more. . . this validates the deployment. It says we've done something good out here."