He is former editor of National Geographic magazine and chairman of the board of trustees of the National Geographic Society and its Education Foundation. Gilbert Grosvenor retired as the Society's president in June 1996, the fifth generation of his family to serve in that position. He was a soldier in the United States Army from 1954 to 1956, and here's what that service meant to him.
As a private in the Army, I knew one thing for sure: serving in the military would have no impact on the rest of my life. When I got out, after a 21-month hitch, I thought it had all been a big waste of time. It was only years later, when my civilian career was in full swing, that I realized how valuable my stint in the military had been. I wish I had been more serious then.
Two months after graduating from Yale, I was drafted and shipped to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for basic training. When I finished, the Army assigned me to psychological warfare at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, home of the 101st Airborne Division, which in the mid-1950s had little use for PsyWar. We confirmed their worst fears.
Our first clash with conventional forces came during an airborne exercise. We were ordered to create air-dropped leaflets to discourage the ground troops. To our disbelief, the base commander had
scheduled the operation for Easter Sunday. All hopes faded for the traditional three-day pass. Everyone was ticked off, but it offered a wonderful opportunity for creative PsyWarriors: Revenge! Our leaflets declared that "Col. (X) is depriving you of a three-day pass just so he can entertain his cronies from Raleigh. Army headquarters' feels badly for the troops. Turn in this leaflet immediately and you will earn a three-day pass TODAY!" Unfortunately, the breeze blew some flyers into the viewing stand. The colonel did not share our mirth.By spring, our group was ordered to Fort Shafter in Honolulu, Hawaii, where I was assigned to the PsyWar Vietnam desk.
For one year, I gleaned information from the university library (while also dating the librarian) and wrote less-than-great PsyWar training manuals.Eventually I spent 90 days on temporary duty, first in the Philippines and then Vietnam itself.
It was here that my real education began. Brief duty in the Philippines included an extraordinary indoctrination by Colonel Edward Landsdale's intelligence officers. This group had just defeated an insurgency led by the communist Huks who had been knocking on the gates of Manila. Landsdale argued that you couldn't win civil wars with conventional weapons. You had to earn the trust and support of villagers by helping them build houses, protect their villages, and develop a stable government. Pacification, not B-52 raids, was his plan. Alas, he was overruled, probably in Washington.Sound familiar
It was the forerunner of the "heart-and-minds" pacification program that the United States initiated in Vietnam a decade later, when it was too late. During my 1955 tour, I observed another precursor of America's bitter experience there: the disparity between what was really happening on the ground and what filtered out back home.All during that period, the press reported that American military advisers were carrying the day in the Vietnamese countryside. However, the U.S. personnel I observed in the Mekong Delta area were leery of venturing onto the roads each morning without a tank escorting the convoy. Ambushes and landmines were rapidly becoming constant threats. Back in Saigon, American Army officers seemed determined to fight a conventional war of battle lines and body counts, rather than pacification and village support.
At the fall 1955 inauguration of President Ngo Dinh Diem in Saigon, I interviewed several Vietnamese villagers who had been bussed in from rural areas that day to participate in the one-million-person rally. None of them knew why he was there, except to wave flags for the cameras and have a good time.
Yet the American press was portraying the ordinary citizens as strong supporters of the government.Later, back in Honolulu, I pored through the clippings of American newspapers to find the reporting of the inauguration and Diem administration much more positive than I had witnessed. It was optimism based on hope.
After 21 months of service, I applied for an "early out" to attend graduate school. As luck would have it, the Army delayed my separation because the medics found a heart murmur they had to investigate, which prevented my summer
matriculation. Reluctantly, I bagged grad school and returned to Washington to resume work at National Geographic, in the illustration department the heart of the magazine. Being a fifth-generation family member there, I knew everyone was watching my progress. Lessons I learned in the service hit home.The first role model I had met in the Army was a Lieutenant Hatch, my boot camp company commander whose first name escapes me. An African-American leading a mostly caucasian outfit,
he worked hard, commanding by example. He'd constantly double-time from front to rear of the company during forced marches, sometimes toting three heavy M-1 rifles from exhausted recruits. He acknowledged birthdays, inquired about families, and personallyintervened to assist those in need.When we slept out in sleet and rain, he slept out in sleet and rain. He never
took advantage of his officers' privileges. Within a few weeks, the snickering common in those days disappeared. He'd won my respect, which remains to this day.At Fort Bragg, the enlisted men in our PsyWar unit had skills that the Army selection process
had successfully identified: a Czech migr with multiple language fluency; a brilliant Croatian, whose family had fled Yugoslavia; talented artists who created great images for PsyWar campaigns; and others with broadcasting skills. Contrary to popular belief, these privates were permitted to pursue their expertise.Only later did I realize what serving in uniform as a private really had taught me: lead by example and respect blue-collar workers who may have greater specific skills
than you. In civilian life that lesson had a profound influence on me as an editor and corporateexecutive.At the Geographic, building on my service experience, I lobbied successfully for a program in which executive trainees (I was one of them) spent two years rotating among entry-level positions in each department. I learned the jobs of most employees and soon realized that everyone brought value, no matter his standing. Indeed, our success depends on the skills, pride, and loyalty of every single employee.
Like Lieutenant Hatch at Fort Dix, I went through the Geographic program with great energy, making friendships that endure to this day. Over the next 40 years, I could look anyone in the eye and say, "I've been there, done that."
I hope I've done the lieutenant proud.I've often mused that if I could repeat my time in the service,
I might have pursued a different route, taking my assignments more seriously. Perhaps I should have joined the Reserve Officer Training Corps, which would have given me more authority, more responsibility. In retrospect, I might have been better focused.At age 78 it's too late to rewind the
tape. I'm proud to have served my country. In the end, the military experience has served me well for the past half-century. It was 21 months well spent.