27th Commandant of the Marine Corps
He fought three wars, then reformed the Corps
Six foot four inches tall, ramrod straight, aristocratic of mien, it is not hard to picture him in gray at Antietam or Gettysburg. A gentleman of the South, Bob Barrow, who died last month at 86, had a soldier's demeanor and a soldier's heart. But his gallantry and courage were of a different century and in different wars. First, operating behind Japanese lines in China during World War II, then five years later in Korea. As a young captain he led his company in the assault and capture of Yongdungpo, the gateway to Seoul, after the famous Marine amphibious landing at Inchon in 1950.
Soon thereafter, in the mind-numbing cold and snow of North Korea, he successfully assaulted Hill 1081, critical to the withdrawal route of the First Marine Division, encircled by a Chinese Army at the Chosin Reservoir. The courtly yet ferocious son of St. Francisville, Louisiana, came home from Korea with a Navy Cross and Silver Star, but more important with a reputation for extraordinary leadership and bravery.
Another time, another war; Bob Barrow commanded the 9th Marine Regiment in a daring attack against the North Vietnamese in the A Shau Valley. Codenamed Dewey Canyon, the operation was a spectacular success, a singular victory in Vietnam that earned his troops a Presidential Unit Citation and their commander the Distinguished Service Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor among the nation's awards for valor.
As impressive as his battlefield accomplishments were, Bob Barrow's greatest victories were as a reformer. In the aftermath of the Vietnam War the Marine Corps and all of the Services were plagued by low-quality recruits, racial tension, drug abuse, and plummeting morale. As a general officer and later as Commandant he devoted himself to purging the Corps of undesirables, tightening standards, and bringing the Marines back to a pinnacle of professionalism.
Commandant Barrow was not a complicated man. What you saw is what you got. He was direct and forceful in a quiet way. He was the alpha male in any gathering, including the Joint Chiefs of Staff. When he walked into a room all eyes were drawn to him. Economical in speech, all around him listened when he did speak. Bob Barrow never used notes, but mesmerized audiences with his eloquence.
The general's eyes were a window to his soul. He could fix a subordinate with a steely gaze and pointedly remind him that "It is my job to make decisions, and your job to carry them out." Yet he was a compassionate man whose pale eyes could also turn warm with empathy. Ever the Louisiana gentleman, he was gracious to all in both professional and social settings. Bob Barrow was a devoted family man who, with his beloved Patty, graciously welcomed all who came to call at the Commandant's quarters at Eighth and Eye.
He seemed pensive when I accompanied him back to headquarters after his final JCS meeting prior to retirement in 1983. I asked him if something was wrong. He immediately responded, without hesitation, "Desert One." He meant the ill-fated hostage rescue mission in Iran over three years earlier. It haunted him. He explained that the operational planning was done by a secret cell that answered only to the Chairman. "The Chiefs were kept informed, but not privy to the details. We were assured that all was well," he said. "I was uneasy about it. I had more combat and operational experience than anyone on the JCS. I should have insisted on greater involvement, but I didn't and I will regret it to my dying day."
General Robert H. Barrow, a genuine American hero who felt the heavy burden of command to the very end of his long and remarkable career. He set a standard of leadership and responsibility that inspires all Marine officers to this day. The question, "Where do we find such men?" has never been more appropriate than for the Marine Corps' 27th Commandant.