The battle-tested practice of embedding reporters is all the rage these days in the war reporter business. Never mind that the concept predates Ernie PyIe, or that its execution during Operation Iraqi Freedom was less than perfect. A win is a win—and the American public benefited from a troops' eye view of Operation Iraqi Freedom in the spring of 2003.
But as with any operational success, those with their finger on the pulse must take care not to draw the wrong lessons from the program's rave reviews. Specifically, joint combat leaders at every level must be certain not to cavalierly or unknowingly jettison a critical piece of the public affairs arsenal already in place: the enlisted combat correspondent.1
Make no mistake, Defense Department policy is correctly weighted toward getting civilian news media to the fight and, when necessary, assisting them in getting their stories and pictures out. Since at least 1941, however, a population of enlisted journalists, photographers, and broadcasters has been equipped, trained, and deployed to tell their services' story day in and day out. These men and women are the offensive line: steady producers who often must cede the spotlight to the "Gunga Dan" Rathers of the world when the balloon goes up.
A cursory look at current official military websites shows a robust emphasis on solid media products done by our uniformed combat correspondents—a marked improvement over output during the "major combat" phase in Iraq when this precious resource was vastly underused. One public affairs officer, it was reported, expressly forbade one of his NCOs from writing and shooting photographs, telling the enlisted man that "(your) only job is to escort news media." Such misguided orders have apparently been corrected, but an important area where the results are still uneven is mention of and transmission to the hometown of released stories and photos. Some public affairs leaders understand and exploit the hometown tie while others, sadly, don't seem to get it.
Every fight from World War II forward has seen the work of enlisted combat correspondents occasionally picked up by the wire services, including front page photography in national publications-a simple case of being in the right place at the right time. But their bread and butter is flyover country, where middle Americans particularly depend on military journalists and photographers to send news back home. These citizens' smaller market print and broadcast outlets simply don't have the manpower and budget resources to sign up at the embed table.
The combat correspondent's civilian counterparts seem to appreciate their battlefield colleagues' unique position. As Dallas Morning News writer David Flick said of Corporal Joel Chaverri, whose unit fought in FaIlujah, "(his) assignment. . . requires him to write accurately and photograph well—and to return fire whenever fired upon.
"Some reporters try to distance themselves from what they cover," wrote Flick of his fellow Texan. "Joel Chaverri doesn't have that option."2 Nor should savvy employment of our combat correspondents be optional in any conflict or contingency.
The Defense Information School (DINFOS) equips the young specialists to work alongside and assist their civilian counterparts. Initial training, followed by assignments aboard our ships, posts, and stations, provide hands-on appreciation for deadlines, photo angles, and other aspects of print and broadcast journalism.
Such value to civilian journalists covering American forces is really a by-product, since military men and women assigned to what academia calls the "communications arts" are storytellers in their own right. They received college credit for their coursework at the Defense Information School and their newscasts, photographs, bylines, and artwork reach a wide audience on a weekly and, often, daily basis. Besides, it doesn't take special school training to escort news media (especially those already folded-in with a unit) any more than it does to escort politicians, contractors, or humanitarian aid workers.
Not that there are enough public affairs types to go around in the first place, which is why the very best of them strive to be fully engaged in all facets of their craft, especially when forward-deployed. The editor of Homeland Defense Journal, retired Marine Maj. Robert T. Jordan, is a case in point.
Jordan, the public affairs officer on the ground when the Marine barracks was attacked on that infamous Sunday morning of 23 October 1983, had been a staff sergeant in Vietnam. "I was initially assigned as a press escort from early July 1968 through March 1969," he said, "(but) it was humbling to find that I was selected for this duty not because of any superior communications skills but because of my previous experience as a Marine infantryman and hand-to-hand combat instructor.
"I resented the assignment until Colonel Paul Moriarity bought me dinner at the CIB (Command Information Bureau) one evening and explained the importance of what I was doing, shared the many compliments that he had received on my assistance to the news crews, and reminded me that I was not restricted from reporting on my own.
"Thereafter," Jordan said, "I carried a sketch pad, tape recorder, note pad, and camera on every escort mission. Once I finished assisting the (civilian) correspondents in getting the stories they wanted, I sketched, photographed, interviewed and wrote to my heart's content."3
In Afghanistan last spring, where combat operations were largely overshadowed by events in Iraq, Gunnery Sergeant Keith Milks adapted the same entrepreneurial mindset to the opposite situation. "Freed from the task of constantly arranging logistics for and escorting civilian media," he wrote in the November 2004 Marine Corps Gazette, "the Marine expeditionary unit's public affairs section was able to devote most of its time to telling firsthand the story of the unit's role in Operation Enduring Freedom—a story that might not otherwise have been told."
The story was told, all right, via the 22d MEU's website and through some 700 news products released direct to print and broadcast outlets at home and abroad. (And the hands-on gunny practiced what he preached; not only did he write prolifically, his combat photos landed on the covers of a half-dozen magazines.)
Soon enough, civilian news media "clamored to join our ranks," said Milks, especially after the unit's combat correspondents had faithfully documented their unit's success in killing 80 Taliban and other enemy in one week. A short time later when Operation Thunder Road commenced, the 6-man public affairs team was "deluged with requests from reporters."4
The same talent pool that gives us hard chargers like Jordan and Milks is also responsible for the ubiquitous base newspaper and other "command information" or "internal information" tools. The content is largely the same as that bound for an ostensibly "external" audience, another area where the worldwide web and other means have dramatically increased the overlap among and between traditional public affairs functions.
In any case, the skills are in evidence and crisp writing and photography are annually recognized by the Defense Department's Thomas Jefferson Awards Program, the U.S. Marine Corps Combat Correspondents Association, and others. Many in the pen-and-sword club have obtained a certain notoriety, particularly overseas or at remote stateside locations, perhaps anchoring the news for the Far East Network or writing sports in the football-crazy South.
Former Air Force NCO Adrian Cronauer, portrayed by Robin Williams in the 1987 movie Good Morning, Vietnam, comes to mind, as do onetime soldierwriter Neil Sheehan (A Bright Shining Lie), former Coast Guard journalist, Alex Haley (Roots), or former Marine Chas. Henry, national security correspondent for Washington's WTOP radio. Even game show host Pat Sajak got his start in uniform, as an Army broadcast specialist in Vietnam.
Each of these former news junkie grunts is an example of influence wielded in their civilian careers—but they also cut a wide swath as relatively junior service members. As a demographic, the very manageable number of military print and broadcast journalists should represent a key target audience for organizations like the U.S. Naval Institute, who aspire to gain new members and greater visibility throughout the forces.
Is every warrior-scribe or photographer Pulitzer Prize material? No. Neither is every embedded reporter. But a good number of our youngsters in Iraq and elsewhere are crackerjack writers and shooters. To be condescending or patronizing to those who ride the military press bus is folly. The smartest commands and affiliate organizations look beyond the traditional flag officer and trade media invitation list to ensure that these special petty officers and corporals (and the chiefs and gunnies who guide them) are readin on new programs and policy initiatives.
Reach your enlisted public affairs force and you reach the fleet. Scratch that. Reach them and you reach the world.
1 "Combat Correspondent" is the official designator for enlisted Marines assigned to public affairs-but the same work is done by "photojournalists," "basic writers," etc., depending on specific MOS and branch of service. All receive their initial training at the Defense Information School at Ft. Meade, Maryland.
2 David Flick, "From combat, fighting words: For Ma-' rine-re porter, the pen isn't always mightier than the sword," The Dallas Morning News, 29 December 2004, page unknown.
3 Major Robert T. Jordan, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired), electronic mail, 26 July 2003.
4 Gunnery Sergeant Keith Milks, "22d MEU Public Affairs in the Forgotten War," Marine Corps Gazette, November 2004, pp. 50-51.
Colonel Oliver, who retired with 32 years' public affairs experience, teaches at the Defense Information School.