The Siren Song of Airpower and Advanced Technology

 

In Homer’s “The Odyssey,” Odysseus’ ship sails past a shore inhabited by the Sirens, whose alluring call to his crew seeks to entice the men to join them ashore with the promise of supernatural wisdom, and the promise of freedom to sail on with that wisdom once imparted.  Odysseus sees the Siren’s song for what it is:  enticement so strong that a man, once enthralled, never wants to leave, even to the point of his death. 

Midway through my career as a Marine infantry officer I received orders to attend the US Air Force’s Air Command and Staff College (ACSC).  Following graduation, I joined the faculty of ACSC as one of two Marine officers filling joint assignments as instructors.  What was supposed to be a three-year joint job was cut short by a year when I was selected for command of an infantry battalion.  But three years at the Mecca of Airpower was enough for this grunt.  One can only stand so much of a good thing -- nowhere else in DOD can a Marine go on vacation and get joint credit.

Colonel John Warden, author of “The Air Campaign” and proclaimed “architect” of the Desert Storm air campaign, had assumed command of ACSC just prior to my arrival as a student in the Class of 1994, and had radically overhauled the curriculum.   He welcomed that class on Day 1 and gave us the mission of finding a way to use airpower alone to win wars.  Warden was a “true believer” in the absolute supremacy of the strategic application of conventional airpower over all other arms.  So much so that his own theory was that technologically advanced conventional (not nuclear) airpower applied at just the right place and time (a critical node in an enemy state’s system) would cause a catastrophic, cascading failure of the enemy state’s entire system.  At the foundation of his theory was the need to view the enemy, not so much as formations of men and material, but as a system of interconnected nodes.  On paper, it was, and still is it seems, an alluring concept -- a Sirens’ song promising a quick and ground force-saving achievement of strategic war aims.

The belief that just the right application of technologically advanced conventional airpower can win any war without the need for costly and bloody “boots on the ground,” dates back almost to the first flight at Kitty Hawk.  Following the First World War, in which airpower was primarily used as a tactical, supporting arm for ground forces, airpower theorists such as Hugh Trenchard, Guilio Douhet, and Billy Mitchell, argued that technologically advanced airpower’s greatest value was not in its tactical, or even operational application, but in a strategic attack against an enemy’s most critical regime-supporting systems.   

In the US Army Air Corps, prior to the Second World War, a debate raged between theorizing airmen over which type of airpower, fighter/interceptor or heavy bomber, should be the focus of attention (and therefore garner the lion’s share of finite resources).  Each side addressed the further operations-enabling concept of air superiority (the degree to which one side in a conflict holds control of air power over opposing forces).  The fighter proponents argued that achievement of air superiority through fighter/interceptor operations in aerial combat was a crucial first step in any prolonged air campaign, and that without fighter/interceptor aircraft in sufficient numbers to overwhelm and destroy the enemy’s own fighters, follow-on strategic bombers could not be effective.  Proponents of strategic bombing believed that heavy strategic bombers, bristling with formidable defensive armament and flying in tight, mutually supporting formations, would not need fighter escort and would achieve local air superiority sufficient to allow attack of key strategic targets.  They believed that, as Douhet theorized, and British Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin warned, “the bomber will always get through.” 

Given that, in the middle of the last century, the US mainland was out of reach of any foreseeable enemy’s bomber, the need for interceptor aircraft was deemed far less than the need for long-range heavy bombers.  Further, the bomber enthusiasts argued that heavily defensive-armed bombers would not need fighter escort and that any attention given to the development of long-range fighter aircraft was a waste of resources.  

Add to this Siren’s Song the promise of supernatural high altitude daylight precision bombardment with the technologically advanced Norden bombsight (“we can put a bomb in a pickle barrel from 20,000 feet”) and the position of the bomber proponents became too alluring to resist. The strategic airpower enthusiasts of the inter-war period also promised that US prioritization of resources to heavy bomber production would avoid the disastrous waste of men in the attrition battles of trench warfare in the First World War.

As even the most cursory examination of history reveals, the promise of winning the war from the air came with its own butcher bill to pay.  In 1943, unescorted heavy bomber formations flying missions over Nazi-occupied Europe were decimated.  The 8^th Air Force alone, lost more men killed in the skies over Europe, than the entire Marine Corps lost in the Pacific.  Air superiority was achieved over Europe, thanks to the eventual introduction of long-range fighter aircraft and the resultant unrecoverable high attrition of German fighter pilots.  As Dr. Rich Mueller, head of my instructor group at ACSC, said, “The air war over Europe was trench warfare in the sky.”

There was even still, a belief amongst the airpower zealots during that war that ground invasion of Europe was unnecessary.  Their argument was that now that air superiority (in some cases, air supremacy) had been achieved over Europe, the systematic destruction of Germany’s war-making capability would eventually be achieved – all from the air.

Of course, that would probably have meant that the Red Army would have taken not just Eastern Europe, but all Western Europe as well.  Winston Churchill’s “Iron Curtain” would have fallen astride the English Channel.   

To this day, the Siren’s promise of technologically advanced airpower effectiveness continues to supplant the wisdom of practical experience.  The United States today is in possession of the most impressively advanced conventional airpower capability the world has ever seen.  The airpower Sirens sang that our unmatched strength and incredible accuracy would quickly bring the Islamic Republic of Iran to its knees. 

They are indeed on their knees.  But without a boot on their neck, they will not capitulate. 

Since WWII, we have conventionally bombed a succession of enemy state’s systems to dust.  Not one of them gave up, save Iraq; whose capital was occupied by U.S. ground forces.  

I would be the very last retired military professional to recommend a ground invasion of Iran.  But don’t sing me a lullaby and tell me it’s not nap time. 

To the next generation of political/military leadership: Don’t listen to the Siren’s song.  If the cost of introducing ground forces to put a boot on an enemy’s neck is not worth the strategic aim, it ain’t a well thought out strategic objective.

Constitutional Governance, For a Change

Recently, the chief political correspondent for The Colonel's Corner -- the Colonel -- sat down for a wide-ranging on-the-record conversation with Brenda Cannon Gregory (aka: the Comely and Kind-hearted Miss Brenda), the woman whose write-in candidacy for President is sweeping the nation like a cool breeze soothing a slumbering electorate in the midst of a hellish election nightmare.  What follows is the verbatim transcript of what one hopes will be the first of many such candid and illuminating conversations over the course of the next eight and one half years.

TCC:  "Mrs. Gregory, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to answer a few questions."

BCG: "My pleasure, Colonel.  And, call me 'Miss Brenda.'  I know we'll have to retrain you to call me 'Madam President' after the election, but for the time-being it will be less taxing on your pea-sized brain to keep it simple."

TCC:  "Uh, okay...  So, Miss Brenda, let's dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the subject.  How would you describe your philosophy for governance as President of the United States?"

BCG: "The Constitution; the whole Constitution; and nothing but the Constitution."

TCC:  "Would you care to elaborate on that?

BCG:  "Not particularly.  Besides, what part of those simple ten words is so hard to understand?"

TCC:  "Well..., I, uh...  Okay, um, well.., how, then, would you say that your governing philosophy differs from Barack Obama's?"

BCG:  "Who?  Oh, you mean Valerie Jarret's spokesperson.  Look, I'm not basing my campaign on the failures of the current administration.  I will say this for Mr. Obama, he reads out loud extremely well."

TCC:  "Will you be using a teleprompter in your speeches?"

BCG:  "Why?  None of my speeches will ever be longer than a minute or two.  If you can't make your point quicker than that, you don't have a 'point.'"

TCC:  "Makes sense."

BCG:  "Look, forty years living with the Colonel has trained me to keep it short and simple."

TCC:  "Heh, heh..., wait, what?"

BCG:  "Next question!"

TCC:  "Yes, ma'am!  Um...[the Colonel shuffles through his stack of notecards], okay, let's talk about what you see as your priorities as President."

BCG:  "The first constitutionally-mandated responsibility of the President, as chief executive, is faithful execution of the law as found specifically expressed in the Constitution, and as enacted by legislation passed by Congress and signed into law by the President."  

TCC:  "Do you believe in the use of Executive Orders."

BCG:  "Only as a means to enforce a specifically expressed Constitutional requirement, or to enforce an Act of Congress.  Not to create law.  Any other use of Executive Orders is an expression of dictatorial powers not expressly given the President by the Constitution, regardless the well-meaning intent or efficacy of the order.  If I see something that I think needs to be done, that is not currently expressly authorized by legislation, I will work with the the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader to have legislation passed to address the need."

TCC:  "Miss Brenda, executive orders and bureaucratic regulations over the last three decades have resulted in trillions of dollars of cost to the American taxpayer..."

BCG:  "And that's what I'm talking about.  Look, I'm sure that the originator of every executive order and non-legislated regulation believes that they are doing good.  Some may even be able to prove that their idea, in the form of an order or regulation, satisfies a critical requirement or provides a solution to a pressing problem.   But, good intentions, or even proven effectiveness and efficiency is not an excuse for extra-constitutional activity by our Federal government.  That's what I mean when I say "...and nothing but the Constitution."

TCC:  "Are you saying that Congress would do a better job at regulation than a professional bureaucracy?"

BCG:  "No! Not at all.  But, that's not the point.  The point is, as our nation's founders meant when they went to war for, among others, the principle of "no taxation without representation," that there should be no federal regulation without representation.  In other words, the Constitution gives the power of regulation expressly to the Congress.  There is no Article in the Constitution establishing an unelected bureaucracy with the power to indirectly tax the citizens of the Republic."

TCC:  " 'No regulation without representation'.  Catchy.  Mind if I make some money putting that phrase on bumper stickers?"

BCG:  "Be my guest.  The best economic stimulus is unfettered entrepreneurialism."

TCC:  "Can I put that one on a bumper sticker, too?"

BCG:  "You're a businessman?  Thought you were a free-loading journalist..."

TCC:  "Who are you calling a 'journalist?"

BCG:  "Next question!"

TCC:  "Yes, Ma'am.  What is your policy on National Defense?"

BCG:  "National Defense is best considered as a series of concentric rings, beginning first with the national security decision-making and policy apparatus and then second with the interior of our national territory and working outward.  Electing me will take care of the first ring.  Secondly, an effective American national defense for the 21st Century requires development of 21st Century internal infrastructure.  To begin with, our critically vulnerable power grid must be immediately shielded to protect against catastrophic failure, whether as a result of a man-made or solar attack.  Our highways, bridges, railways, and air traffic system, once the envy of the world, are now woefully behind and crumbling.  I will work with Congress, and the states, to fix our infrastructure and push it into the next century.

TCC: "But, won't the cost of such programs be prohibitively expensive, given the fact that our nation already has a 20 trillion dollar debt?"

BCG:  "Thought we were talking about national defense?  You want to talk about economic policy, now?

TCC:  "Uh, no..."

BCG:  "The next concentric ring out from infrastructure is borders.  The most compelling case for a 'clear and present danger' facing citizens of the United States is uncontrolled migration across not just our land borders, but via our ports and airports.  I believe that that vast majority of the people coming into our country illegally are otherwise law-abiding and can be productive members of our society if integrated and assimilated properly.  But, if only 1% of the nearly 1 million coming to our shores each year are coming with criminal malice aforethought that represents a light infantry invasion each year the size of the operating forces of the entire United States Marine Corps."

TCC:  "Ooorah!"

BCG:  "You really should do something about that cough, Colonel.  Sounds terrible.  As I was saying, and I'm keeping this as simple as I can for you, the first component of national defense is decision-making, the second is internal infrastructure, and the third component then is border security..."

TCC:  "How would you handle immigration, then?"

BCG:  "Are we talking about immigration policy, now?  Thought we were discussing defense policy?"

TCC:  "Um, okay.  Please continue."

BCG:  "The fourth component in our national defense, the fourth concentric ring outward, if you will,  is our military.  We must continue to invest in the highest quality people and the best equipment.  And, we must ensure that our military is trained and equipped to do one thing -- win on the battlefield.  Any proposed changes to the time-tested fabric of the force should only be made if it can be proven without a doubt that the change will increase effectiveness on the battlefield.  Just maintaining the current level of effectiveness is not enough -- our potential adversaries are not standing still; they continue to grow in capabilities and effectiveness."

TCC:  "Are you concerned about ISIS?"

BCG:  "Of course.  And, we'll deal quickly and effectively with that threat.  I'll ask for a formal declaration of war from the Congress and..."  

TCC:  "A declaration of war!?!"

BCG:  "What part of 'the Constitution, the whole Constitution, and nothing but the Constitution' did you not understand, Colonel?  Look, I know that you are hamstrung by a lack of education -- Ole Miss, Troy, and the Navy War College aren't exactly noted for producing great political thinkers -- but you've got to concentrate on the bottom line of my governing philosophy.  If it isn't expressly covered in the Constitution, the President isn't allowed to do it. 

TCC:  "Okay, let's say the Congress gives you a formal declaration of war against the so-called Islamic State.  How do you attack and defeat 'em?"

BCG:  "Well, that's where all of you military professionals, on whom the nation has spent a fortune educating and training, come in.  I'll turn to the Secretary of Defense, give her the mission, and tell her to let me know when she is done.  She, utilizing the brains for which I selected her to be my Defense Secretary, will turn to the military combatant commanders and give them a mission.  Look, this ain't brain surgery.  There might be some rocket science involved, though..."   

"But, look.  ISIS is not an existential crisis..., yet.  At most, at present, it is a nuisance.  A big nuisance, mind you, what with all of the humanitarian crises fallout.  But, if we continue to attack ISIS incrementally instead of all out, we do run the risk of them getting their hands on WMD.  Then they become an existential threat.  I won't let them get to that point.  Look for a victory parade down Pennsylvania avenue some time before my first State of the Union Address.   

TCC:  "What about China and Russia?" 

BCG:  "What about 'em?  You want me to get Congress to declare war on them, too?  Now we're really talking about rocket science; not to mention splitting an atom or two.  And, that's what will keep Jinping and Vladimir in check.

TCC:  "Okay, let's switch gears and talk about the economy..."

BCG:  "It's all in the same gear, Colonel."

TCC:  "Huh?  Well, um..., What is your tax philosophy?

BCG:  "If I had my way, there would be a simple flat federal consumption tax, somewhere around 10%.  And, I would reduce taxes on corporations, which are always passed on to the consumer in the form of increased prices for goods and services, to zero.  With a zero corporate tax rate, and no corporate subsidies, the United States would become the world's business capital. Period.  Imagine the wealth flowing to the United States under that situation! 

TCC:  "I don't think that would pay for all of the current federal programs..."

BCG:  "Exactly!  I will work with Congress to phase out all federal social programs and return that responsibility to the states where it rightfully belongs per the Constitution."

TCC:  "But, the states can't afford to fund all the welfare programs."

BCG:  "Look, I know this is taxing (get it?) your mental capacity somewhat.  But, the Constitution established a governmental system known as 'federalism.'  Contrary to popular belief, the concept of 'federalism' that is the basis for our Constitution does not give the Federal government responsibility, nor even authority, for social programs.  Federalism envisions the individual states bearing that responsibility and authority.  Don't take my word for it, go read the Federalist Papers for yourself."

TCC:  "So you would have the states take over and pay for social programs in their own states.  Won't that lead to different outcomes?  Won't some states do a far better job of taking care of their resident citizens than other states?

BCG:  "Yes, yes, and yes!  Emphatically yes!  That is the whole point of States' rights under federalism and as guaranteed in the 10th Amendment to the Constitution:  'The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.'"  The states that do the most effective and economically efficient job of taking care of their resident citizens will reap the rewards of increasing vitality and economic growth.  This competition between states will actually spur greater and greater good to the welfare of the citizens."

TCC:  Thank you so much for your time, Miss Brenda.  Can we finish by quickly addressing your immigration policy? 

BCG:  I fervently believe in the motto: e pluribus unum.   Out of many, one.  The reason the American Republic stands as the greatest nation the world has ever known is attributable to three facts.  One, our republic was founded on the greatest social compact ever devised by man -- the U.S. Constitution.  Two, that Constitution provided the umbrella of personal freedom and limited government under which a continent brimming with world-class resources was conquered.  And, three, that continent was peopled by representatives of humanity from around the globe who found unprecedented freedom of expression, and who were drawn together as one people yearning for the exact same thing for themselves and their progeny -- Freedom.  We still stand as the globe's greatest expression of that most shared of human traits -- the desire to live in freedom.  Our constitution still stands as the world's greatest guarantor of freedom.  We should celebrate that, and we should share it.  My immigration policy, indeed, my entire foreign policy, constitutionally in concert with Congressional action, will seek to share the unmatched level of God-given human rights guaranteed under the Constitution of the United States to all people, on our territory and on theirs.     

#TCAK-HMBforPresident

Return on Investment

The Colonel isn't a conspiracy theorist -- when it comes to this republic's national government, he just doesn't think it is competent enough to pull off the kinds of convoluted secretive plans with which it is often credited.

What the Colonel does believe our republic's national government is very capable of is taking the path of least resistance and punishing its citizens instead of the nation's enemies.

For the past two decades plus, the U.S. federal government has done just that -- justifying restrictions on constitutionally protected rights in the name of security, while conducting little more than what professional military thinkers and planners would regard as "limited objective" operations.

To be sure, that sort of governmental reaction to outside threats is not a new phenomenon.  One can find federal reactionary restrictions in every "emergency" since the founding of the Republic.  They all amount to accumulation and consolidation of power in the hands of the national governing elite at the expense of the individual and State rights explicitly "guaranteed" in the Constitution and justified as necessary for the safety and security of the individuals and States.

Here's the rub -- the citizens of the Republic already pay an exorbitant price in blood and treasure for their security. The American people fund and field the most effective security apparatus the world has ever seen -- the United States Armed Forces.  American taxpayers field an all-volunteer force, equip it with state-of-the-art weapons, supply it like no other force in the history of warfare, train it like no other force in the history of armies, and compensate its members on a scale way beyond any other on earth.   And yet, instead of seeing a return on their most costly investment, the American people watch the most effective bulk of their military sit idly in their barracks as threats to their security gather in plain sight.

Mark the Colonel's words, another major attack on U.S. soil is coming.  The Colonel harbors not one shred of doubt in his military mind that another attack is coming -- and you don't either.

When it does, (in the Colonel's version of a perfect world -- BEFORE it does), the citizens of this great republic deserve a rich return on their investment -- not a doubling down of restrictions on their rights.

Threat to Democracy

 

The Colonel is a threat to democracy.

Yep -- you read that right.  In fact, the Colonel is required by the highest law of the land to act, indefinitely, against the sedition that is democracy.

It's quite simple to understand, actually.  Yet, it's only understood by a small few.  The Constitution of the United States of America -- the supreme law of the land -- stands in defense against the free practice of "democracy" in the Republic that constitution established.  

Nowhere in the Constitution is the word "democracy" found.  Nowhere.

Nowhere in the Declaration of Independence does the word appear.

Don't take the Colonel's word for it.  Google it.

You see, the founders of our Republic -- yes, imperfect men -- established a representative republic with safeguards to limit the intrusion of government into the rights of that republic's states, citizens, and legal residents.  Though imperfect, our founders were, by and large, classically educated. Their study of history informed them that of the various forms of government, one of the most destructive of the rights of minority opinions, religions, and ethnicities was a pure democracy.  Their study of history also showed them that democracies always devolve into dictatorships.  

So, the founders who crafted the Constitution, did so mindful of the inherent dangers of democracy, and built a form of republican (little "r") national government with citizen -- and state -- representation.  Per this federal constitution, and each state's differing versions, the federal and state governments of our Republic would be officiated by citizens chosen by their fellow citizens, but those citizens would be protected from the capricious rampages of pure democracy. 

The first ten amendments to the original Constitution -- known colloquially as the Bill of Rights -- enshrined specific, but not limited, rights of the people, and the sovereign States (see the 10th Amendment), of these United States against abridgment by the government and the whims of a majority in a democracy. 

Okay, the Colonel knows that he's in danger of losing the attention of the Bama and LSU fans at this point, so he'll get to the point.  

Anyone who swears an oath of allegiance to the Constitution of the United States is a threat to democracy.  

Anyone who blindly defends democracy, in contravention to the Constitution, is an enemy of the Republic.  

    

   

A Dog Named "Heck"

The Colonel's father, the quiet and straight-shooting Mister Vernon, sat nursing a cup of hot black coffee (Gregory men don't drink iced or polluted coffee) and watching his bird-brained son's cloud of thirsty hummingbirds milling buzzily around a feeder just out of arm's reach.  For long, still minutes, broken only by the hum and chatter of the ruby-throats, the Gregory patriarch and his heir apparent (with no hair apparent) sat in the oak shade relishing the slightest of breezes blowing away the growing heat of a July morning.

"Almost comfortable out here this morning," the old man finally offered to the sparse conversation.

"Yessir."  

"Could use some rain."

The Colonel thumbed open the weather app on his phone.  "Nothing in the forecast for at least a week."

"Hmmmph. Whaddatheyknow."

"Well, it is July in Mississippi, Dad.  Ain't never much chance of rain in July."

Buzzing and chattering filled the warm air between them, again.  Sometimes bird chatter is preferable to the human kind.  But, as quiet as Gregory men can be on occasion, the urge to talk is often irresistible, and stray synapses fire to spark stories. 

"Inherited a weird dog, once."

"Sir?"

"His name was Heck.  Weird dog.  He belonged to my cousin, Al.  When Al went off to the Army, ole Heck took up with me."

"What kind of dog was he?"

"German shepherd.  Big ole scruffy, German shepherd.  Weird dog."

"What was weird about him?"

"Well, for starters, ole Heck had a broke tail.  He would follow me to Lee High School and run alongside my bike.  Got his tail stuck in my spokes once and broke a crook in it."

"Did that break him from following you to school."

"Naw. He just kept his distance."

"Ha! I bet he did."

"Weird dog.  Had a big chunk of brick that he chewed on like a bone."

"A chunk of brick?"

"Yeah, a big ole chunk of brick.  Ole Heck could hardly get his jaws around it.  He'd just chew and slobber, and roll his eyes like he was having a fit.  That brick bat had been kinda square, but Heck had the thing pretty well rounded off.  I tried to take it away from him a couple of times, but I could never pry it out of his jaws."

The patriarch looked off into the middle distance.  The birds buzzed and chattered.  The Colonel waited for the next story synapses to fire.

"Ole Heck carried that brick to school one day and one of the teachers saw him sitting on the front steps with that big ole brick bat in his mouth, eyes rolled back in his head.  She felt sorry for Heck, 'poor puppy has a brick wedged in his jaws!'  She knelt down and tried and tried to get the brick out of Heck's jaws.  She couldn't budge it.  Ole Heck just laid there with his eyes rolled back in his head, slobberin'."

"She stood up and asked, 'whose dog is this?'.   I just shrugged my shoulders.  I wasn't gonna claim that weird dog."

"Ole Heck got up and walked over to me, dropped the brick at my feet and turned and grinned at that teacher.  She glared at me for a moment and then stormed up the steps."

"Ole Heck went missing a few weeks later and my mother sent me out to look for him.  I didn't look too hard." 

 

 

Independence Morning

Forty-six years ago this morning, the Colonel was standing in formation on the physical training field at the Marine Corps' Officer Candidate School.  

It was a surreal moment.  

It was Independence Day, the 4th of July 1977.  But, for the 250 officer candidates (and their trainers) it would be no holiday.  It was business as usual.

"Business" that day meant 0500 reveille, a rushed breakfast, an hour and a half of calisthenics and a run, a rushed shower, a few hours of classroom instruction, a rushed lunch, a couple of hours of close order drill, more classroom instruction, a rushed supper, and several hours of gear and barracks cleaning -- all the while closely supervised by very vocal and highly demanding drill instructors. 

The candidates knew it was the 4th of July.  They knew that under any other circumstances they would be observing this day in a far different fashion.  And, yet...  there was not the slightest hint in the demeanor of their trainers that morning that suggested they had a clue that the day was the most significant of American holidays. The battle-hardened Marine senior NCOs with urgent, gravelly voices, and company grade officers with stern reinforcing looks, were doing their duty in the same superbly professional way; as if the day was the last day they would ever have to impart discipline.

The candidates had formed into 50-man platoon blocks surrounding a waist high platform on which a drill instructor stood, square- shouldered and square-jawed, crisply barking out the directions of the exercise routine.  With a couple of weeks' reinforcement, the words had already ingrained themselves in the candidates' psyche.  The Colonel's memory of them is as sharp as the way they fell upon his young, non-tinnitus-ravaged ears those long, dewy Virginia mornings years ago.

The drill instructor sang out, "The next exercise will be the Marine Corps Pushup!"

The candidates responded with a lusty "Ooorah!"

It wasn't lusty enough. "I said," the drill instructor's voice climbed an octave and ten decibels higher, "the next exercise will be the Marine Corps Pushup!" 

"Ooorah!"

"The Marine Corps Pushup is a four count exercise!  I will count the exercise and you will count the repetitions!  Front leaning rest position.., move!  

On the command "move," the candidates dropped quickly from the rigid position of attention to the pushup position, in the "up" position, bodies stiffly planked with heads inclined up and eyes locked on the Marine on the platform.

The move was not quick enough.  "Not fast enough, candidates! Position of attention, move." 

The candidates scrambled back to the position of attention.

"Front leaning rest position, move!"

The company of candidates dropped as one, as if hit by the same stun gun.

"Ready..., exercise!  One, two, three..."

On the completion of the first two pushups, which counted only as one complete exercise in the Marine Corps world of never too much of a hard thing, the candidates shouted, "One!" 

"One, two, three..."

"Two!"

"One, two, three..."

"Three!"  

There is something deliciously motivating about the Marine Corps Pushup...

...for the one leading the exercise.

That morning, it began to dawn on the candidates, as they pushed the planet away en mas, that something was amiss.  

The drill instructor had not announced, in the pre-exercise directions, how many Marine Corps Pushups the candidates would be doing.  

At the "ten" count, wheretofore the exercise had been complete, the drill instructor continued, "one, two, three..."

"Eleven!"  

"One, two, three..."

"Twelve!" 

"One, two, three..."

"Thirteen!"

The counting and the pushing continued.  The planet began to move ever so slightly away from the sun...

Yeah, maybe not...  But, it seemed that the exercise would not end until the problem of global warming was solved.

Sometime later, the exercise concluded.  The Colonel retaineth not the ability to recall the specific memory of exactly how many Marine Corps Pushups were executed that morning.  

As the candidates stood panting and "shaking out" abused arms and shoulders, rebellion brewed.

Suddenly, a candidate, possessed of a fairly good singing voice, if little sense of self-preservation, began to sing,

"Oh, say can you see?  By the dawn's early light..."

A few more brave souls joined in, "What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight's last gleaming."

Five hundred eyes turned to the Marine on the platform.

He was at the rigid, disciplined position of attention.  

So were the rest of the Marines and officers in charge of the company.

The rest of the company snapped to attention and the candidate choir filled the air with the best rendition of the "Star Spangled Banner" the Colonel had ever heard, or has ever heard since. 

It was glorious!

As the anthem concluded, the Marine on the platform filled his lungs to announce the next exercise.  Before he could expel that air past raspy vocal chords, another candidate began to sing,

"From the Halls of Montezuma..."

Discipline reigned.  Marines stand at attention for the Marines' Hymn.

Marines and Marine officer candidates sang the song of their people.  All three verses.

It was glorious!

As the Marines' Hymn concluded and loud cheers echoed across Quantico's hallowed hollows, another candidate, hoping to forestall the continuance of physical exercise, began to sing,

" O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain..."

Alas, there is no proscription for standing at the position of attention for "America the Beautiful."   

"No, no, NO!  Shut your mouths!  Position of attention!"

"The next exercise will be Mountain Climbers..."

It was a tall mountain.  The candidates smiled as they climbed.

Call of the Rain Crow

This summer the Colonel and his father -- the wise and strong-hearted Mister Vernon -- have fallen into a comfortable routine, spending more time with each other in the past year than in all of the previous fifty combined.  As he reflects on the last fourteen months that the passing of his mother made him his father's closest family, the Colonel realizes the enormity of the loss that those fifty years represent.  He is amazed at all that he has learned.

Several times a week, Mister Vernon drives the short distance from his home on the outskirts of Oxford, Mississippi to the Colonel's vast holdings at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere, and he and the Colonel sit over strong coffee and talk.

The Colonel has many gaps in his knowledge of his parents' history.  They were always very private people. But the reality is whenever he was with them, the Colonel was shamefully more interested in telling them what he was up to than in asking about their lives.

The Colonel is a bore.

He'd much rather educate than learn, more often than not.

His loss.

This year, however, he has learned to ask questions.  Dad's answers have wondrously filled massive gaps in the Colonel's understanding.

As has been their custom this summer, coffee time has been shared in the shade of a small pavilion in the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda's gardens behind the Big House.  The ostensible reason is to watch the antics of the dozens of ruby-throated hummingbirds attracted to feeders into which a small fortune of sugar is poured daily.  The Colonel's ulterior motive is to get his father talking.

Mister Vernon is normally a quiet man.  He reminds the Colonel of the character played by John Wayne in the movie by that name.  So, it takes some gentle probing to stir the memories stored in his ninety-year-old mind.  He's still sharp, and once he starts, the details are amazing.  

The two old men have covered the waterfront.  The Colonel has learned about his dad's life from earliest memories living with his Methodist preacher grandfather in Tunica, Mississippi to exploits in Vietnam.  

The two old men share a love for wildlife, and spend much time discussing the changes in deer, quail, and duck populations over the years.  Mister Vernon's insights into reasons for declines would make game biologists slap their foreheads. 

The other day, a quail whistled nearby as they sipped their coffee.  

"That's the first bobwhite I've heard in several years," the Colonel observed.

Dad took the bait, "When I was a kid, you couldn't walk anywhere without jumping a covey."  Memories connected to flushes flowed behind.  Then, quiet sips of coffee.

A bird called from the pine and brush ringing Miss Brenda's gardens.  It was a low whooping, like water dripping in a well.  The Colonel has wondered for years what bird makes that sound.

"Dad," the Colonel asked. "What is that bird?"

"Rain crow," was the quick answer.

"C'mon, Dad! You just made that up!"

"It's a rain crow."  Dad didn't offer anything else.  Sometimes he does that to make the Colonel ask more stupid questions.

While his father sipped his coffee and studied hummers, the Colonel surreptitiously fished his smart phone from his pocket and thumbed in a search.  

"Rain crow" is colloquial for the yellow-billed cuckoo, Google told him.  The Colonel told his dad.

"Could have told you that.  Ever seen one?"

"Yessir.  Had one fly into a window several years ago."

"They're real shy," Dad offered.  "You won't see 'em in the woods.  But, you'll hear 'em when the weather is hot and humid.  Means it's likely to rain."  

Raining this morning.  The rain crow called it.  

There's been a lot rain in the Colonel's life lately.  The rain crow's call has been nearly omnipresent.

But, a good rain clears the air.  The bad stuff washes out.

Keep callin', rain crow.   

  

          

 

Armistice Day Salute

The Colonel never really knew his maternal grandfather.    Eubanks McCrary was not much more than a name, a few faded photographs, and a handful of anecdotes -- the Colonel was a mere toddler when the man died.

The one thing about the man that had always been intriguing was the fact that he had served in the First World War.  Shame on the Colonel, but only of late has he begun to research the history of his grandfather's service. 

A few years ago, the Colonel's mother granted him custody of a small clutch of her father's documents.  When she handed them to him in a legal envelope, it felt to the Colonel like being entrusted with a most fragile fragment of our family history.  Of no inherent value in and of itself, but, to this increasingly sentimental soul, a treasure trove of not-so-trivial trivia about a man with whom the Colonel wishes for all the world to have spent acknowlegeable time.    

On the Colonel's desk this morning rests the contents of that envelope: a photograph of Grandmother and Grandfather McCrary taken several years before his death; a copy of their marriage license (married on Christmas Day, 1923); and a non-descript, paper-thin leather envelope with the faint embossing of an eagle and the words "Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Service." 

Protected within that folded leather is a two-sided document.  On the front above the seal of the United States (appropriate to this day that the eagle's talons grasp both the arrows of war and the olive branch of peace -- our nation's enemies still have a choice) are the words, "Honorable Discharge from the United States Army."   On the reverse, a summary of Private McCrary's service under the words, "Enlistment Record."
 
There are terse, handwritten blank-fillers to the right of line headings such as Name:..., Grade:...; Date and Place of Enlistment:...; etc..., but from them a quick snapshot of the man can be gleaned.
 
Eubanks McCrary, from Columbus, Mississippi, was inducted into the United States Army on May the 27th, 1918.  He was 22, single, and by vocation, a farmer.  Upon his discharge a year later he was described as in "Good" physical condition and of "Excellent" character.

Near the bottom of his Enlistment Record are four tight lines available for "Remarks." Into that small space the practiced hand of a military professional entered a shorthand account of Private McCrary's service to his nation in the Great War:

No A.W.O.L.  No absence under G.O. 45 WD 1914
Co. D. 4th Tr. Reg Camp Pike, Ark5/27/18 to 7/10/18.  Co L C.P. July ARD 7/10/18 to 9/22/18.
Co. B. 161st Inf. 9/22/18 to 10/7/18. Co. B. 137th INf 10/7/18 to 5/6/19. Cas Det 4th Rc Bn 162nd DB
5/6/19 to date of discharge.  Served in France.  Sailed for France 7/18/18. Arrived U.S. 4/28/19 Entitled to travel pay to Columbus, Miss.  

Immediately following his induction into the Army, Private McCrary reported to Camp Pike, outside of Little Rock, Arkansas and was assigned to Company D, 4th Training Regiment until his completion of basic training on July 10, 1918.  Within the next week he traveled by troop train for the East Coast, from which he sailed aboard a troop ship to France on the 18th of July, 1918. 

From what was known about the casualty rates of the horrific meat-grinder that had gone on in France since 1914, he likely never expected to see home again. 

Upon arrival in France, Private McCrary was assigned to Company B of the 161st Infantry Regiment.  That regiment, in the 81st Infantry Brigade of the 41st Division, had been one of the first units to go to France with the American Expeditionary Force in the fall of 1917.  Upon arrival in France, the 41st Division was designated a "Replacement Division" and its men were subsequently distributed as replacements to other divisions when their ranks were depleted during fighting.  The 41st Division then assumed the role of training new arrivals to France prior to their assignment to the front.
   
The Colonel's grandfather arrived in France just as the great Allied Meuse-Argonne Offensive of the war against Germany was kicking off.  One of the divisions at the forefront of that offensive -- the 35th Division -- had been in the attack for four days when, short of food and ammunition and its fighting strength sapped by heavy casualties, it was counterattacked by the better part of four of the best-trained divisions in the German army.  The 35th Division ceased to exist, for all practical purposes, as a fighting force and its remnants were withdrawn from the line.

Private McCrary was among the soldiers, newly arrived in France, who replenished the ranks of one of the 35th's four infantry regiments, the 137th Infantry.  The 35th Division was sent to the relatively quiet Somme Dieu sector on the southeastern end of the Allied front.  There, it went into defensive trenchworks and so remained until the Armistice went into effect and the guns fell silent...

... one hundred and three years ago, today.

For two decades, Americans celebrated the 11th of November as Armistice Day, in remembrance of the victory over Germany and the American fighting men who helped bring an end to "the war to end all wars."

Only, that war didn't do any such thing.

American men in uniform knew little peace during those next two decades.  Combat in defense of American interests in Latin America and even in Russia (grist for a future post) kept a sharp edge on the small cadre of American warriors who would form the backbone and animating spirit of the mighty force called on to defeat the Axis Powers during WWII.

So, after that war, and the one that followed, America began to focus it's remembrances on the 11th of November not so much on the end of what had become known by then as the First World War, but on the living men and women who had honorably served our nation in uniform. 

Armistice Day became Veterans Day.

Eubanks McCrary arrived back in the United States on the 23rd of April, 1919, less than eleven months after joining the United States Army and reporting for training at Camp Pike. Less than two weeks later he was honorably discharged and back on the farm.

He is buried in the small cemetery at Mt. Vernon Baptist Church on the eastern outskirts of Columbus, Mississippi.  Not far from his farm, now a subdivision.

A simple marker reads:

B. Eubanks McCrary

Mississippi 

Pvt Co B 137 Inf

World War I

4 Mar 1896 – 9 Oct 1958

The Colonel knows that the three dozen of you who regularly waste valuable rod and cone time perusing posts hereon may indeed be remembering that one of the Colonel's pet peeves is the aggravating and undisciplined habit of a majority of Americans to mix up the meanings and observances of Memorial Day (initially known as Decoration Day, and first celebrated by the fair ladies of Columbus, Mississippi at the conclusion of the War for Southern Independence), Veterans Day, and Armed Forces Day.

For the record: Memorial Day is reserved solely for the solemn remembrance of those who died in battle in our nation's wars, Veterans Day is reserved solely for the recognition of living veterans of the United States military, and Armed Forces Day is reserved solely for the recognition of those currently serving in the armed forces of these re-United States.  Period.  No room for discussion or latitude for mix-matching.

So, the three dozen of you who regularly waste rod and cone perusing posts hereon may mistakenly believe that you have caught the Colonel in a rare mistake  -- recognizing a deceased veteran on Veterans Day.

The operative word in the sentence above is "mistakenly."

The Colonel, sole arbiter of said (and unsaid) matters both in posts hereon and actions hereabout his vast holdings here at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere, is exercising the rights vested in him, by him, to declare today Armistice Day, here aboard Eegeebeegee, capital of the Tallahatchie Republic; and, therefore, takes this opportunity to come to the correct position of attention and execute a hand salute to the memory of his grand progenitor.

Corps Novembers

On Wednesday, next week, the Colonel's beloved Marine Corps celebrates it's 246th birthday, and a day later our nation sets aside the day to honor all those who have served the nation in its armed forces. In honor of the occasion, the Colonel republishes the following, one of the first posts on the Colonel's Corner:

November is an important month for Marines, and is particularly a month tied to memories for this Marine. The obvious reason for its importance to Marines is that the Corps celebrates its establishment on 10 November. On that date in 1775, nearly 9 months BEFORE the signing of the Declaration of Independence, a rebellious outlaw group of landed gentry and merchants, ostensibly acting in representation of the will of the people of the 13 British colonies in North America, and calling themselves the Continental Congress, resolved that two battalions of Marines be raised for service with an all but non-existent rebel fleet (a resolution for establishing a navy had only been passed less than 4 weeks previous). Marines attach great celebratory import to the date 10 November, but few realize that the two battalions initially authorized by Congress were actually never raised.

You see, Congress had this great idea. They wanted to invade Canada. Mind you, we had just initiated open conflict with the greatest nation on the planet by skirmishing with its small occupation/constabulary force in America, and needed to be thinking about protecting the territorial integrity of the 13 Colonies against the sure to come full-scale British military operation to quell the rebellion. But, Congress wasn't thinking about border security (sound familiar?) and fancied themselves strategists of the first order. Part of their great invasion plan was an attack on the British naval base at Halifax, Nova Scotia. The two battalions of Marines the Continental Congress resolved to raise were to be the assault force of that naval raid. George Washington, in command of the Continental Army, objected to the diversion of resources, and the plan (along with the two battalions of Marines) never got past the drawing board.

But, an American navy of sorts was growing (converted merchant ships mostly) and the British naval model called for Marines on board to act as the captain's security force (18th Century sailors were an undisciplined lot), as sharpshooters during engagements at sea, and as a landing force for small-scale expeditions ashore. The American colonists were British after all, and they copied the Royal Navy right down to the printed regulations. There was an abundance of out-of-work able seamen in colonial seaports, and some of the more trustworthy were enlisted to serve as Marines. A tavern-keeper with scant martial or maritime experience was the first Marine officer commissioned by the Continental Congress. Samuel Nicholas was evidently prized for his recruiting skills and for the fact that he owned Tun Tavern in Philadelphia -- a local watering hole frequented by the aforementioned idle able seamen. To this day, Marines celebrate their birthday with a toast of rum-punch, supposedly the drink supplied by Nicholas to seal the deal on each enlistment. One has to wonder how many toasts were drunk BEFORE the aforementioned idle able seamen scrawled their X on the enlistment contract.

November is an important month for Marines for other reasons as well. On 10 November 1918, one hundred and forty-three years to the day after the Continental Congress had resolved to raise two battalions of Marines, two brigades (or the remnants thereof) of Marines prepared for the final assault of the First World War (that operation -- the crossing of the Meuse River -- occurred the night before the war ended with an armistice on 11 November 1918). That a United States Marine Corps even existed at that point is an amazing and twisted story of near-extinction, evolution of missions, and fighting spirit of Marine leaders who tenaciously fought to save their jobs. But, a Corps of Marines did exist when the US entered the War in France in 1917, and Marines quickly established a name for themselves (thanks in great part to Army censorship of their own exploits) at the bitter battles of Belleau Wood, Soisson, Chateau Thiery, and Mont Blanc. Not much of the original two Marine brigades survived the war. What did survive was a reputation for battlefield ferocity, and perhaps more importantly, experience by senior Marine leaders in large scale military operations and staff planning.

The month of November has another Marine Corps red-letter date -- 20 November 1943. On that date, at the conclusion of the first year of our war with Japan, the Second Marine Division conducted the first full-scale test of amphibious assault doctrine developed by Marines during the interwar years. While amphibious landing operations had been conducted earlier in the war, most notably at Guadalcanal, the 20 November D-Day on Betio in the Southwest Pacific Tarawa Atoll, was the Corps' first truly opposed amphibious assault. It was a near disaster, plagued by poor intelligence regarding the tides and reefs surrounding the island, poor application of naval gunfire support, and horrible ship-to-shore communications. The Japanese commander of the island had boasted that his defenses were so formidable that it would take "a million men, a thousand years" to overcome. Five thousand Marines of the Second Marine Division took Tarawa in less than 4 days. The cost was horrific -- 1085 Americans gave their lives for that speck of coral -- but the payoff was a treasure trove of lessons-learned that helped to perfect the conduct of amphibious operations and made possible successful Allied amphibious assault landings around the globe -- across the Pacific to bring Japan to its knees, and across the English Channel to force Hitler into his death bunker in Berlin.

From a force of 6 Divisions and a like number of Air Wings, the Marine Corps, following cessation of hostilities in 1945, dropped to less than a third of that size and was scattered in reserve when Kim Il Sung (the current North Korean Commie's granddaddy) sent his forces into South Korea in June of 1950. Scraped together quickly from mostly WWII veteran reservists, the understrength First Marine Division spearheaded MacArthur's bold 15 September 1950 Inchon landing that turned the flank of communist forces pinning the remnants of US and South Korean defenders holding the Pusan Perimeter at the southern tip of the peninsula. Two and a half months later, the First Marine Division had retaken Seoul, re-embarked on amphibious shipping, sailed around the peninsula to Wonson, and advanced to the North Korean border with China. In the bitter cold of one of the worst winters in a region known for bad winters (history is replete with battles fought in record-breaking winters, as if God tries to cool off warring mankind's ardor), the First Marine Division was attacked, on 27 November 1950, by the ten divisions of the Chinese Peoples Liberation Army Ninth Army Group. Battling sub-zero cold and 100,000 Chinese, the Marines conducted a fighting withdrawal back to the coast and survived, barely, as a fighting force.

More recently, the month of November achieved further acclaim in the Corps' battle history with some of the most ferocious house-to-house fighting Marines had seen since the battle to retake Hue City during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Required to eradicate Al Queda and insurgent forces in the key Sunni Triangle city of Fallujah, ten days of bitter fighting began on the 7th of November, 2004.

November is a personal red-letter month for the Colonel as well. The first of November 2003 marked the official end of nearly three decades of his uniformed service to the United States of America.

Semper Fidelis, Marines!  Here's health to you and to our Corps!  

Miss Gladys

 Gladys Elaine McCrary Gregory went to be with her Lord and Savior on June 4, 2021.  She was born on June 14, 1932 in Columbus, Mississippi to Eubanks and Frances Shackelford McCrary.  Gladys graduated from S. D. Lee High School in Columbus in 1950 and attended Mississippi State College for Women.  On September 13, 1952, she married the love of her life, Vernon Gregory, Jr.  During Vernon’s 21-year Air Force career, Gladys was the rock upon which her family relied for stability during numerous stateside and overseas assignments.  Upon his retirement from active duty in 1974, Vernon and Gladys returned to Columbus, Mississippi where Gladys served as a secretary in the Mississippi University for Women Alumni office.  She was a faithful member of First Baptist Church, Columbus; a member of the Koinonia Sunday School Class; and volunteered with her church’s Love in Deed benevolence program.  An avid gardener, Gladys was a member of the Terra Firma Garden Club, of which she was a Past President.   She was preceded in death by her parents and by her sister Joyce McCrary Miller (Wiley) and survived by her husband of sixty-nine years, Vernon; two sons, Colonel Thomas Edward Gregory (USMC, Ret.) and his wife Brenda of Abbeville, Mississippi and Major Bruce Alan Gregory (USAF, Ret.) and his wife Felicia of Newport News, Virginia; five grandchildren, and six great grandchildren.   Honorary Pallbearers are the members of the Koinonia Sunday School Class at First Baptist Church, Columbus.

Risk Acceptance and the Future of the Republic

At the end of the Roman Republic, two decades before the birth of Christ,  Publius Vergilius Maro (Virgil) -- considered the most famous Roman poet -- penned the epic "Aeneid," chronicling a Trojan warrior's mythic ancestry of Rome.  Virgil took his protagonist, Aeneas, from the "Illiad" and fashioned a virtuous and courageous ancestor to whom Romans could look during a time of political upheaval.   

Virgil's masterpiece was entirely a made-up piece of propaganda, but it was bought hook, line, and sinker by the citizens of Rome.  In particular, Aeneas' "pieta" (selfless loyalty) became the animating spirit of the Roman Empire as it expanded across the known world.

From Aeneas' lips, via Virgil's pen, we have a saying that has motivated human endeavors more than any other like utterance for the millennia since:

Fortes Fortuna Juvat  

Fortune Favors the Brave (or Bold)

The phrase has slipped the lips of men and women of valor in challenging circumstances in every century and on every continent.

Military units across the globe and across the ages have adopted it as their moto and exemplar of their ethos. 

Pliny the Elder said it as he ordered his galley across the Bay of Naples under a cloud of Vesuvius' volcanic fallout in a heroic attempt to rescue fellow Romans at Pompeii. 

Pliny died shortly thereafter.  But that is the point.

The example of Pliny's selfless effort, in the mold of Aeneas, motivated his fellow Romans to greater actions in greater crises thence.

Our Republic currently faces a viral volcano whose fallout threatens to bury every cherished right and privilege for which generations of  Americans have placed their very lives at risk. 

Fortune favored the actions of the brave men who rallied against British government heavy-handedness in 1775.

Fortune favored the commitment of the brave men who pledged their lives and their sacred honor with signatures on the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

Fortune favored the bold act of General George Washington as he gambled on a newly developed smallpox vaccine for his army in winter camp in 1777.

Let's pause and look in depth at that bold move.

Smallpox was raging in North America at the time of the Revolution.  Most of the British soldiers sent to put down the colonial rebellion had already been exposed in Europe and were largely immune.  Those on the American continent were not.  Washington knew that were smallpox to sweep through his army in the field, the debilitating disease would render it completely ineffective and at the mercy of simple British attack.  But, vaccinating against smallpox was considered dangerous and was, dare the Colonel say it, politically incorrect -- the Continental Congress even went so far in their feckless fear as to pass a law forbidding inoculation.  

General Washington was mindful that disease (smallpox included) accounted for nine times more casualties than battles in 18th Century warfare.  He disregarded Congress' political posturing and boldly embarked on a smallpox inoculation program for his army.  Washington had to do it secretly -- his army was within easy striking range of the main British force and if they divined that the rebel army was temporarily incapacitated by the effects of the inoculation, they could stamp out the hope of the rebellion in so far as it depended on Washington's ability to keep an army in the field.   

Washington's bold move could have ended disastrously.  It was a high risk move.  But fortune favored his boldness. In the months ahead, wings of a small, but relatively healthy, Continental Army scored dramatic successes at Saratoga, and exhausted Cornwallis in a chase across the Carolinas.  Without the two of which, the climactic, war-ending battle at Yorktown would not have been possible. 

In the two and a half centuries since, fortune has favored bold American action in the face of daunting challenges, the recounting of which will no doubt risk the patience of the Colonel's meager readership.

The Colonel isn't praising foolhardy risk-taking -- you know, the kind of carelessness that the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda reminds him to avoid every time he leaves the house, and for good reason.  No, the key to fortunate outcomes is calculated risk.

Sun Tzu said it best: "Know your enemy and know yourself: in a hundred battles you will not be in peril."

Knowledge, therefore, is the indispensable foundation.

Not feelings...

Not popular belief or majority opinion...

Knowledge  

In any endeavor, if you prepare with study and arm yourself with truth, you will decidedly shift the probability of positive outcome in your favor. 

While a foundation of knowledge -- of the factors bearing on the situation and of one's own capabilities -- is foundational, there is the grasp of another intangible on which fortune smiles:

Morale

Napoleon's equation is instructive: "In war, the moral is to the physical as ten is to one."

Nowhere in the history is the multiplying effect of cohesive morale, and bold leadership more evident that at the 334 B.C. Battle of the Granicus River.

When Phillip of Macedon, the king of a resurgent Greek empire, died, his son Alexander inherited the throne and, with it, Phillip's goal of invading and subduing long-time adversary Persia.

It was a daunting goal.  The Persian Empire was far larger, wealthier, and accomplished than Macedon. 

But, Alexander, barely into his twenties, had quickly consolidated his father's recently-won empire -- quickly subduing rebellious Greek provinces -- and in the process had begun to develop an aura of personal invincibility.  Alexander led from the front; his weapons often drawing first blood. 

And, with his elite shock-troop body-guard, the 300-man Companion Cavalry, as his fiercely loyal and exemplary spearhead, Alexander's battlefield exploits were often the decisive action.  Morale in his army was ascendant.  

When Alexander crossed the Hellespont (the strait separating Greece and Asia Minor) in 334 B.C., the Persian forces in Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) adopted a strategy of exhausting the Greek army until well-defensible terrain could be used to halt and destroy Alexander's invasion force.  That terrain feature was the Granicus River.

When Alexander arrived on the south bank of the Granicus after a rapid and exhausting 60 - mile march, the young warrior king found  his adversary guarding the north bank.  The Persian commander calculated, quite reasonably, that if the Greeks attempted to cross the river the attackers could be cut down as they climbed the Granicus' steep banks on the Persian side.

Alexander's senior generals counseled caution.  They advised Alexander to seek another, less well-defended, crossing.  It was sound advice.

But Alexander had prepared himself mentally, and his army physically, for just this opportunity.  

The odds were against him.  The Persian army far outnumbered his own, and was arrayed in a commanding defensive position.  Alexander's forces needed rest.

Alexander, however, knew that he possessed key intangible strengths vis-a-vis the Persians.

First, Alexander's army was far more cohesive.  Morale springs from cohesion -- the bond between brothers-in-arms -- and, morale rises to leadership by example.  

The army facing Alexander was a polyglot of units drawn from across the Persian empire.  A large component of the Persian force was actually a Greek mercenary outfit.  

Alexander knew his enemy.  He knew his own capabilities.  And, he knew the high spirit of his army -- embodied by his own personal example.

Alexander immediately attacked.

It seems a rash action, taken almost without pause upon his arrival at the Granicus.  But, Alexander calculated the risk of immediate action against that of delaying, and saw the intangible blow to Persian morale going forward were his Greeks triumphant in this first contact.

While Alexander and his Companion Cavalry stood on the right flank of his army, a Greek feint against the Persian right drew attention and forces to meet it.  Alexander then led his spearhead splashing across the river and crashing into the Persian center.

The melee that followed was brutal, but the high morale of Alexander's men, and Alexander's bold leadership, prevailed against the greater numbers of the enemy.

What do the historical examples of Washington's and Alexander's risk-taking mean to our Republic today?  Well, our Republic's future success depends, in the Colonel's not-so humble opinion, on the level of risk adversity that our people allow to creep into their souls.  

The men and women who immigrated to our continent's shores, and then subdued and settled its breadth, were masters of the calculated risk. The safe bet would have been to remain in their countries of origin.  Further, the far less risky course of action for the new Americans would have been to remain huddled in the relative safety of enclaves east of the Appalachians.

But, our ancestors calculated the risk against the potential reward and attacked across their "Granicus."

Our ancestors accepted the risks of inoculation and defeated smallpox, typhus, yellow fever, and polio, even as many of their fellows counseled caution and peddled fear.

Our ancestors stood up to some of the greatest war machines in history -- Great Britain (twice), Germany (twice), Japan, the Soviet Union, to name but a few -- even as many of their fellow Americans counseled appeasement and accommodation.  

The Colonel is at the point of his life where his mortality is felt more and more keenly with every waking.  There's not much left in the tank for physical combat.  But, he will never stop exhorting his fellow Americans to seize on the example of their forebears and adopt the motto: 

Fortune Favors the Bold!