In the spring of 1994, I sat in on a briefing conducted by Rear Admiral Ray Smith, then the commander of the Naval Special Warfare Command. This briefing was for Richard Danzig, then undersecretary of the navy. Mr. Danzig later served as secretary of the navy in the Clinton administration. A host of staff officers and a few young operational SEALs crowded into the command briefing with the undersecretary. On hand was one of the SEALs wounded in Somalia in the engagement superbly documented in Mark Bowden's fine book Blackhawk Down. After some nice action-video footage of young men with blackened faces doing an assortment of SEAL-like things, Admiral Smith brought up a slide showing the overseas deployed posture of Naval Special Warfare forces. There were more than five hundred personnel, most of them SEALs, scattered across the globe in some thirty foreign nations or aboard deployed units of the fleet. It was an impressive briefing. At the conclusion, the admiral asked if his guest had any questions. Undersecretary Danzig, who has seen more than a few snazzy briefings, cut to the heart of the matter.
“You seem to have a good sense of yourselves,” Danzig began. “That was all very impressive. Tell me, Admiral, what is your annual budget?”
“Right at five hundred million dollars,” Admiral Smith replied. Naval Special Warfare then received 10 percent of the Special Operations Command's $5 billion annual budget.
“So,” Danzig continued, “it costs about a million dollars a year to keep one trained, operational SEAL on the job in a deployed status.”
After a moment's hesitation, Admiral Smith replied. “Yes, sir. That's about right.”
This figure of $1 million per year for one Navy SEAL is both deceiving and instructional. That number accounts for the training, administrative support, and logistic infrastructure that support the SEAL teams, the SDV teams, and the Special Boat Units—the tail as well as the tooth. Nonetheless, the training and support costs required to bring and keep a fixed number of SEAL and SDV platoons at a high state of operational readiness are ongoing. SEALs are not short-lead-time, off-the-shelf items like artillery shells. If we want Navy SEALs who are good to go in time of crisis, they have to be trained well ahead of time. But this figure of $1 million per SEAL, deployed and ready to go, calls to mind an interesting analogy. Cruise missiles cost about $1 million dollars each.
A Navy SEAL and a cruise missile are at the opposite ends of the military response spectrum. Conventional cruise missiles are superb weapons. They can deliver a thousand pounds of high explosives accurately and impersonally. They are surrogates for all precision-guided weapons. If you happen to be a national security adviser with a personal or political aversion to American casualties, a cruise missile is a very handy military option. It is also a very impartial weapon. If the technology fails and the missile becomes lost, it may destroy something other than its intended target. When a cruise missile does find its target, whether it's a building, a bridge, or an embassy, people die—often civilians who just happened to be in the area when the warhead arrived. A weapon that can damage the enemy with no risk to your own troops is a valuable tool—and a seductive one. It allows us to kill others without the risk of casualties. In the past, Americans have fought their wars on principle, in the cause of freedom or to oppose tyranny. If it was worth killing for, it was worth dying for. Now technology has given us an option to the dying, at least on our side of the kill ledger. We no longer have to send in the Marines. We can send in the cruise missiles. We did this in Yugoslavia when televised Serb atrocities became more than we could bear. But cruise missiles and high-altitude bombing killed fourteen civilians for every Serb in uniform.
Navy SEALs, unlike cruise missiles, practice their trade up close and personal. For them, long range is within reach of a sniper rifle or close enough to illuminate a target with a laser beam to make a precision-guided weapon more precise. The defense against cruise missiles can be as simple and as low tech as several meters of reinforced concrete. Intelligence estimates suggest that dictators like Mu'ammar Gadhafi and Saddam Hussein may be doing just that to protect their weapons of mass destruction. Sometimes, to gather intelligence or to destroy a potential threat, someone has to go in and do the job on the ground—or in the water. That can usually only be done by risking American lives in very dangerous ventures. Skill, training, and courage can only reduce these risks, not eliminate them.
It's an interesting question. Given the availability of cruise missiles and smart bombs, and our public and political aversion to young Americans returning home in body bags, does our nation really have a need for warriors? Has their time passed? Is war simply work for technicians? Most of the military recruiting commercials suggest that our military wants young people to sign up for computer classes and technical job training. Little is said about fighting. Do we need to continue to develop, refine, and nurture a warrior culture like the Navy SEALs? This seems to be a question of our national interest and the nightly news. A regional conflict, like the Gulf War, is an ongoing possibility. The Middle East, with its unique blend of religious fundamentalism, despotism, and petroleum-driven wealth, could quickly draw us into another regional war. So could Korea or Taiwan. The same possibilities exist along the Pakistani-Indian-Chinese border and in the former Soviet republics, but these situations may be beyond the reach of our expeditionary warfare capabilities or the commitment of our allies. The nightly news is another source of involvement. Thanks to modern telecommunications, we now enjoy barbaric activity in distant parts of the globe real-time and in living color. If the footage is really good, it's made available twenty-four hours a day on CNN or C-Span. Both oil and atrocity are capable of pulling us into a foreign military adventure.
If the Gulf War is to serve as a prototype for future major regional conflicts, we need to be very careful. It is unlikely we will find so inept a foe the next time around. Navy SEALs played a minor but important role in the Gulf War. They boarded and inspected Iraqi ships on the high seas. They captured oil platforms that served as Iraqi military outposts. SEALs rescued downed pilots and stood ready for POW rescue operations. Their diversionary attack on the Kuwaiti beaches to simulate an amphibious landing froze elements of two Iraqi divisions, contributing to the success of the main allied thrust across the northern desert. A dozen SEALs neutralizing a division-size force, if only for a few precious hours, validates this use of special operations in a major regional conflict scenario. And if you're an attack pilot flying air strikes on Kuwait, or Kosovo, it's comforting to know that there are some very committed men who will come for you if you bail out over enemy territory.
It is reasonable to assume that ethnic and religious differences, authoritarian regimes, and poverty will continue to create suffering and instability in the new millennium. Humanitarian considerations alone may force us to intervene, and these situations are seldom candidates for cruise missiles. Often they are nasty little pieces of business, where the value of human life is quite different from our own. Each situation is different; each calls for a different application of force and different rules of engagement. These ROEs, often driven by bureaucrats in Washington or allied military protocol, can be complex and unwieldy. Today, there are a lot of young American military peacekeepers riding around in Humvees with ROEs the size of telephone directories, and these rules still don't cover all the bases.
In the spring of 1995, Commander Kim Erskine, then the commander of the Naval Special Warfare Unit Two in Stuttgart, Germany, accompanied a platoon of his SEALs into the U.S. Embassy in Monrovia, Liberia. Civil unrest had threatened the U.S. legation there; American lives were in jeopardy. The Navy SEALs were the first to arrive to augment the embassy Marine contingent and provide security for an evacuation. The text of their ROEs, when reduced to usable form, said they could open fire if fired upon, or a threat of hostile fire was imminent. Shortly after the SEALs arrived and established a defensive perimeter at the embassy, a Liberian youth with a rocket launcher approached the compound. He then aimed his rocket at several SEALs who were guarding the main entrance. A SEAL sniper had the youth in the crosshairs. By the guidelines of the ROEs, he could shoot him; it was a legal kill. But the SEAL held his fire. After some sign language and broken-English communication, the youth was persuaded to leave the area. He simply wandered off into town with his rocket launcher.
“What did you do about your SEAL sniper?” I asked Kim.
“Gave him a medal,” Kim replied, referring to the commendation his SEAL received for exercising good judgment.
“What would you have done if he had shot the young Liberian?”
Kim smiled sadly. “Give him a medal. Making that shot could have saved a few lives—our lives.”
This incident illustrates the complexity of sending “our boys” over there. Even though they have been volunteers since the end of the draft in 1973, and they willingly chose this profession, they are still our boys—and girls. Had the Liberian fired and killed the SEALs within the bursting radius of his rocket, the headlines would have read: “Navymen Killed in Monrovia; Congress to Investigate Role of U.S. Troops in Africa.” Had the SEAL fired, we would have gotten this: “Navy SEAL Kills African Youth; Congress to Investigate Role of U.S. Troops in Africa.” And think about the young SEAL sniper, the man in the arena. Had the rocketeer fired, the death of his comrades would have been on his conscience. Had he followed the ROEs to the letter, he would have taken the boy's life. If the action precipitated a riot, perhaps many more lives would have been lost. The rules don't cover all the contingencies, nor are they of much comfort to the soldier whose action may have been legal but, in hindsight, ill-advised. Some situations defy a set of regulations. In Somalia, Muslim women came at the young Rangers with automatic weapons swaddled with their infants. In such cases, the ROEs quickly deteriorate; a moment's hesitation can cost you your life. It becomes kill them all and let God sort them out. The difference between the rules of engagement and a war crime may be a twenty-three-year-old's split-second decision: Do I shoot, or don't I?
Increasingly, our military is being used overseas as an instrument of national policy. If our conventional forces are to be a global police force, then our special operations elements become global SWAT teams. This is happening as funds for operational training are being reduced in favor of platforms and hardware. Our deployed forces on the ground are being asked to do more with less preparation. All this is taking place in a climate where fewer members in Congress are veterans, and each commander in chief is a little more distant from the forces he commands. Without getting into a discussion about Vietnam and the current political elite shaped by that conflict, I believe it is safe to say this: The number of policy makers today who understand the culture of the military is less than it was several decades ago. And that number is shrinking. I believe this applies as well to the media and those who report on military affairs.
There is a widening gulf between the general military culture and the civilian culture of the nation it serves. And I'm not just speaking about a generation who may have sidestepped military service during an unpopular war. Many of my contemporaries who served in Vietnam do not want their sons and daughters in uniform. They want them in business. If this cultural gulf applies to the military in general, what about the military special operator; what about the Navy SEAL? How does the true warrior view giving so much to a nation that regards his sacrifice and professionalism so impersonally? How does he feel about serving people who at best may support a strong military, but not for their sons or daughters? And how does he view a government that increasingly sees him simply as an instrument of foreign policy—simply as the guarantor of globalization and our ongoing prosperity at home?
While following Class 228, I asked many BUD/S trainees why they wanted to do this. It was a simple question: “Why do you want to be a Navy SEAL?” I seldom heard a BUD/S trainee express his desire to become a SEAL in patriotic terms. One exception was Seaman Chris MacLeod's declaration that he wanted to “stand with the best and fight for my country” before he was forced to leave Class 228. Adam Karaoguz said he always wanted to serve his country, and that he thought he could best do that as a Navy SEAL. Most said they welcomed the challenge or that they wanted to be part of an elite force. Others candidly admitted they were taken with the excitement and adventure of parachuting and scuba diving. A few admitted they just wanted to be someone special. I suspect that these men do in fact have a very real pride in serving their country, but that was not why they volunteered for BUD/S. To one degree or another, they are simply talented, determined, motivated young men who were looking for a yardstick by which to measure themselves. So the question remains, do our armed forces need the conspicuous support of a grateful nation? Will they continue to serve, and fight, for a token remembrance on Veterans Day? And why?
In his fine book The Soul of Battle, Victor Davis Hanson talks about the terrible and magnificent force that is a democratic army in pursuit of evil. Mr. Hanson cites several historical examples, the most recent of which is General George S. Patton's Third Army in the closing days of World War II. The success of the U.S. Third Army, apart from Patton's tactical genius, was the general's ability to motivate his men to fight. He did this by vilifying the enemy. German soldiers, not just Nazi Germany, represented the dark forces of tyranny; they were immoral and must be vanquished at all costs. Patton told his soldiers they were the agents of decency and light— that they were saviors. This was a contest between good and evil, and the fate of Western civilization was in the balance. Did it work? The German army was a professional, seasoned force with the advantages of fighting a defensive campaign with a shrinking perimeter on home ground. Logistics and lines of communication favored the defenders. Patton's army of clerks, car salesmen, farmers, and factory workers routed the Wehrmacht and poured into the German heartland like a horde of locusts. It was much the same in the Gulf War. Saddam was portrayed as an evil man, though his demonization may have been more for Congress and some of our allies than for the troops.
The Navy SEAL today is a much different animal than he was just a few decades ago. He has always been a volunteer, so little changed with the abolition of the draft. But there has been an evolution since the first SEALs were culled from the UDTs in the early 1960s. In those early days, they were hard men whose character was forged in the jungles of Vietnam. BUD/S training separated the men from the boys, and the men went to Vietnam. Often they learned on the job. Knowledge and jungle-fighting skills were passed from platoon to platoon. SEALs became warriors by necessity, not so much by some well-conceived training program. They became excellent jungle fighters and did little else. The platoon officers were transient, usually leaving the teams or leaving the Navy after one or two combat deployments. But many of the enlisted men stayed—tour after tour. It was these dedicated enlisted men who laid the foundations of the modern SEAL warrior culture. They are the soul of the Navy SEAL teams.
The teams have always been a refuge for tough men, but in times past, they were often rugged, hard-drinking guys—as comfortable in a bar fight as a firefight. These weren't men who necessarily appeared macho or well buffed from hours in the weight room, but the sort who could handle trouble. They were men who could get the job done, even if they sometimes had to operate outside the regulations. They weren't so much warriors as they were street fighters.
Today's SEALs have brought forward that hard-core, get-it-done tradition, and built around it a true warrior culture. Modern SEALs are not only afforded better training, but they understand that continuous training is a warrior's work—a lifetime's work. And with each generation, they seem to get better, more professional—and a little less driven by ideological and patriotic considerations. If a new guy is an apprentice after thirty months of training and becomes a journeyman at three years when he returns from his first deployment, who then are the veterans? When are you a “made man” or a soldier in this SEAL-warrior Mafia? In the officer corps, they are SEALs like Gus Kaminski, heading out on their third deployment with some experience and a great deal of responsibility. The enlisted petty officers embarking on their second or third deployment are the backbone of the Navy SEAL platoons. They have experienced most of what will be asked of them on an overseas peacetime deployment. A few of them have seen combat. They know what to do, and the younger SEALs look to them for leadership. Their experience has earned them respect within the platoon and the team. A first class petty officer with a solid reputation on his fourth platoon deployment is what the Navy SEAL teams are all about. And who are the masters of this trade? A good candidate would be Joe Quinn. But even with his reputation, eighteen years of service, and six platoon deployments, there are SEALs he looks to for guidance and expertise. They are the senior and master chief petty officers and the warrant officers, men like Master Chief Bob Tanenholz and Chief Warrant Officer Mike Loo. These men embody the corporate knowledge and culture of the SEAL warrior craft.
Bob Kerrey won the Medal of Honor in Vietnam in 1969. He was reluctant to accept the award because he felt that it was unfair that he be singled out when the other SEALs in his platoon had performed so well. His men and his BUD/S enlisted instructors persuaded him to accept the honor, not just for himself but for all of them. Bob entered BUD/S with Class 42 in December 1967. The action for which he was decorated took place fifteen months after he began BUD/S training. At fifteen months from the first day of Indoc, Ensign Clint Burke at Team Three and Ensign Jason Birch at Team Four recently received their Tridents. They have just begun their eighteen-month platoon work-up. They won't leave for deployment, or be considered “apprentice warriors,” for another year and a half. And Bob Kerrey was lucky. Some BUD/S graduates assigned to the UDT and SEAL teams during the Vietnam era were being shot at within months of their BUD/S graduation. My friend Teddy Roosevelt IV, great-grandson of the president, was in the Rung Sat Special Zone dodging bullets just four months after he graduated with Class 36.
I often speak to civilian organizations about the trials of Class 228 and the culture of the Navy SEAL teams. I am frequently asked about women serving in the SEAL teams. Women currently serve in all branches of the armed forces, including combat support and combat aviation. But Congress has upheld a ban on women serving in direct ground combat roles. I have heard senior SEAL leaders cite this as the reason there are no women in the teams, but that begs the question. Should they be? If Congress relaxes this restriction, should women be allowed to attend BUD/S? There is no politically correct answer to this question, but let me try. In my view, it is a question of priorities: gender equality or combat effectiveness—which god do you serve? I cannot imagine a culture in the military being so severely or adversely impacted by the inclusion of women as the Navy SEAL teams. Are there women who have the upper-body strength to handle the physical requirements? Possibly. Could they handle the cold water and the pain? Probably. Are there women who have the burning will to win? Absolutely. But I believe the inclusion of a woman or women in the platoon deployment cycle will make a hard and dangerous business more difficult and more dangerous. This is a cultural thing, not a gender one. The gain in gender equality would come at a tremendous cost in operational effectiveness, and ultimately, in human lives. SEALs live and work together for long periods of time under some very basic and demanding conditions. I feel the inclusion of women would adversely alter the chemistry that is so vital to the teamwork of a combat-effective SEAL platoon.
Perhaps the most dramatic change in the development of the modern Navy SEAL is the inner strength to fight and win—to be a complete warrior. Aside from technical specialties—like long-range shooting, strategic reconnaissance, and underwater swimmer attack—much of what SEALs do is to train for that single moment when they will fight—kill or be killed. In his Close Quarter Defense School training, Duane Dieter tells the platoon SEALs, “The truth of combat is; to fight is to risk death.” Therefore, SEALs have to master a skill set that will enable them to dominate their space and their opposition. This demands total focus from a warrior— mind, body, and spirit. At any time, a deployed SEAL can quickly be put at risk in a dangerous, unfamiliar land. He will not have the luxury of learning to hate his enemy as did the soldiers in Patton's army, nor a lengthy period to prepare for battle like the coalition forces in the Gulf War. On very short notice, his nation can send him into harm's way. Here the warrior-SEAL may have to take another human life. Or exercise the judgment not to.
The development of this modern warrior within the Naval Special Warfare community is an ongoing process. At first glance, this lengthy and often brutal regime of training may appear too long and too difficult. There is a reason for this. The young men who come to BUD/S have had from eighteen to twenty-eight years of the good life in the United States. They come from the malls, not the steel mills; from a culture where “tough” is a look or an attitude, not a way of life. These young men are not samurai. A great deal of change has to take place in them before they become warriors. It takes years—a lifetime. And warriorship is as much a tempering of the spirit as a physical rendering. Even if toughness were measured in terms of a bar-fighting brawler or some Hollywood-generated macho facsimile, that conduct has no place in military society or in the company of true warriors. In fact, a warrior who has depth—one with sensitivity, compassion, and a strong spiritual sense of self—has a decided advantage. He enters the arena from a firm moral grounding—a worthy platform from which to project his power. The business of a warrior is not intimidation or posturing; it is combat and it is to risk death. For a SEAL warrior, this requires judgment and training. He may have to hurt, maim, or kill in the practice of his trade. When it comes to a fight, he must fight and win. Anything less will risk the mission and perhaps cost him his life.
In his excellent history of the UDT and SEAL teams, Brave Men—Dark Waters, Orr Kelly concludes that the Naval Special Warfare community and the modern-day SEALs are still looking for their niche—trying to find their role in the post-Cold War U.S. military. Yet Mr. Kelly suggests that if the SEALs ever find that specific role, it will cost them dearly in terms of innovation and versatility. I would submit that they have found their niche: the self-generation and maintenance of a small, highly capable warrior culture. They are talented generalists with a specific set of maritime special operations skills. This makes them highly flexible and very adaptive war fighters. Their mission could be almost anything, anywhere, with very little time to plan or rehearse. Then all those years of training and team building become a smart investment for the nation. These warriors can come from under the sea, from the air, or across the land. And when they get there, they can fight and win.