Is Mission Control the Weakness of Maneuver Warfare?

by Maj Eric M. Walters

Marine Corps doctrinal and instructional publications, such as FMFM 1, Warfighting; FMFM 1-3, Tactics; and the excellent MCI 7400 Warfighting course, emphasize that the primary means to gain tempo in military action is through a “mission control” command philosophy-i.e., the reliance on mission-type orders that allow subordinates considerable latitude for guided initiative. Yet this idea has come increasingly under attack by a number of military thinkers since the 1991 Gulf War. The recent synchronization debate in the pages of the Gazette is but one example, and many within the Department of Defense (DoD) command and control (C^sup 2^) field, as well as the information warfare business, echo this same theme.* Even a generally recognized “maneuverist” author, Maj Robert R. Leonhard, USA, has opined that the impact of modern information technology is contributing to “The Death of Mission Tactics” (the title of his July 1994 Army magazine article).

Why are so many people bent on reducing the importance of mission control? Why is it so controversial? Is there a rational argument against mission control? If so, what is it, and what is its impact upon maneuver warfare? Most important, if there are seemingly insurmountable problems with mission control, are the alternatives any better?

Superficial Criticisms of Mission Control

Unfortunately, a number of the negative judgments seem to be based on a misunderstanding of the nature of maneuver warfare in general and mission control in particular. Perhaps the oldest misperception is the idea that mission control is simply “winging it.” There is no acknowledgment that the commander guides initiative and improvisation through his intent. Fortunately, there aren’t many Marines who actually see mission control as a license to do anything they want, unmindful of the results the commander desires.

Despite this, a misunderstanding still exists about the relationship between mission control and initiative. Mission control does rely heavily on subordinate initiative, but that is not all there is to the concept. Initiative standing alone is not mission control. Equally important are the commander’s intent and the designation of a main effort that focuses it. Even maneuverists can lose sight of this and narrowly focus on initiative, as Maj Leonhard does in “The Death of Mission Tactics.” It is an easy mistake to make and can result in skewed conclusions.

Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie betrays this incomplete understanding in his “Guderian: The Master Synchronizer,” (MCG, Jul94), when he maintains Guderian was exercising centralized control in redirecting his divisions to the French coastline in 1940. If one sees mission control solely in terms of initiative, it’s a small step to equate any attempt by a commander to run his fight-even if only issuing a new intent and mission orders to subordinate units-as leaning towards centralization. Such is not the case; these actions are part and parcel of mission control.

If the commander discovers that the unfolding situation requires him to issue a new intent and mission orders, this is still mission control. It is not detailed or centralized because the commander is not trying to control all the individual actions of all his units. He is setting the stage for them to correctly act on their own initiative. Some will argue with this, pointing to Rommel’s and Patton’s command style of being up front, directing tactical actions, often commandeering forces to get a job done. Isn’t that detailed control? After all, these two leaders were well versed in maneuver warfare.

The answer lies in looking at what they actually did when up front. They still did not try to direct the whole army in minute detail. They placed themselves at the critical point and did whatever was necessary to make things happen fast. Sometimes it involved siting individual weapons and taking over tactical formations. But how often did this happen? In those rare instances, doing this was quicker than formulating and issuing a mission-type order to a perhaps poorly oriented weapon or unit leader. More often, these leaders did this to correct a troublesome situation before the enemy could take advantage of it. But this was the exception; normally, leading from up front still involved issuing mission orders. They got better results that way.

What is striking about this command style is that it wasn’t designed to optimize, it was designed to speed up friendly actions at the critical point. It wasn’t done using any sort of preplanned matrix but instead through direct command influence. Commanders such as Patton and Rommel were not managing the battle, they were leading it. They were focused outward on getting results vis-a-vis the enemy, not inward on fulfilling the plan.

Last, there remains a misperception that maneuver warfare advocates reject centralized command and control completely. This is untrue. While mission control is favored, there is no iconoclastic dogma that says you should never use anything else. Othenvise, how does one explain another master of maneuver, von Manstein, earning his Marshal’s baton through his painstakingly methodical reduction of Sevastopol in 1942? Maneuver warfare only demands that one act faster relative to the enemy. When the enemy immobilizes himself through any means, detailed control will provide better unity of effort and yet still may outpace enemy reactions. This is what happened in Operation DESERT STORM. It all depends on the specific scenario.

The problem “maneuverists” have with detailed control is that we Marines seem to spend so much time and effort working on it. Mission control always seems to get short shrift. While some will claim that the culture of maneuver warfare will prevent it, use of the synchronization tool will certainly result in misuse if Marines are not trained to work with anything else. They will reach for the one and only tool they know how to wield, regardless of the situation. Far better that our primary training setting is in a mission-control mode, practicing the detailed control techniques as little as we can safely get away with-right? Well, not so fast folks. . . .

Substantive Criticisms of Mission Control

Maj Leonhard remarked in his Army article that “mission control fails at least as much as it succeeds.” This is a serious charge, although his one illustration, Guderian at Yelnia in 1941, does not support his claim. He may very well be right, but we don’t know for sure because we have not yet seen a scholarly, comprehensive inquiry specifically addressing that issue. The “maneuverists” have long claimed the superiority of their style of warfighting. They have quite naturally pointed to the historical success stories of mission control: von Muffling’s unilateral diversion of Bulow’s Corps at Waterloo, Rommel in Italy in World War I, Guderian’s exploitation of the Meuse bridgehead, and so on. But failures? Have we really looked at that? Command and Staff College, the School of Advanced Warfighting, and postgraduate students take note-this would make an extremely profitable research topic.

What appears to be the biggest fear concerning mission control, reflected in Maj Leonhard’s article and a number of pieces by Maj McKenzie, is the prospect of a fight lost because of uncoordinated and inappropriate initiative. This is interesting, because there’s little talk about what happens when there’s a bad intent or a wrong focus of effort (presumably the commander always knows what he’s talking about). But even with the necessary guidance from the commander, initiative may still be uncoordinated and inappropriate. This is going to happen at least sometimes. Why does it happen? How often? And what must one do to correct it when it does?

Before we address this issue, let’s briefly consider the problems of a bad estimate, a carelessly formulated intent, or a wrongly designated focus of effort. Might these factors contribute to the probability of uncoordinated and inappropriate action? Certainly they would. But again, that hasn’t been the complaint, possibly because if the commander can’t provide adequate guidance, then it just doesn’t matter what command and control philosophy he is using. He stands a terrific chance of being beaten regardless.

So maybe it’s not a fruitful line of inquiry to look at the failure of mission control from the standpoint of how well a commander perceives what is important or how well he tells folks what he wants. The crux of the matter is what the subordinates are doing (or not doing, as the case may be). Detractors of mission control must defeat the maneuverist argument that-on balance-mission control has enhanced the chances for victory in warfare in the past and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. The beginning point of research into possible failures of mission control may well lie with the idea that, even given adequate, mission-oriented guidance, subordinate initiative contributes at least as much-if not more-to defeat as it does to victory in a number of historical examples.

If this happens in certain situations, why does it happen? If the guidance is sufficient, then the use of initiative ought to be self-correcting. Leaders who find that what they’re doing isn’t bringing success ought to charge off someplace where they will find it, or at least help someone who already has. If this is not happening, what might be the cause?

My gut feeling is that the answer to this question must necessarily focus on training and unit cohesion. Units unfamiliar with mission control are bound to have major problems when they first try it. They hesitate or they won’t follow the guidance. And they pay for it. But continuous practice brings with it mistakes and learning. After a few successes, the unit grows confident and is encouraged to try more. After this, success comes more frequently, and the effect snowballs. Of course, this doesn’t happen if the same people aren’t kept on the team. Only through unit cohesion can there be the long-sought-after “Nelson’s touch”-implicit communications. But what is to be done with a unit that hasn’t practiced and/or is victimized by constant personnel turnover? Can it really perform using mission control?

Mission Control: We Can’t Get There From Here?

The hardcore maneuverist requirements for better training and stable units haven’t brought much comfort for most Marines, especially those who have to deal with an already loaded training and deployment schedule; constant personnel turnover; unevenly trained seniors, peers, and subordinates; and the “zero defect” attitude that is so prevalent. Critics point to the burdens that mission control imposes: developing tactical judgment in all ranks; the need for leaders to articulate commander’s intent well, the radical overhauling of training, education, and personnel management practices; etc. All of these measures tend to fly in the face of pertinent DoD policies.

So, successfully practicing mission control in maneuver warfare is not something where a couple of classes and field problems are sufficient to “check the box.” Mission control, like maneuver warfare, is a philosophy that must permeate everything the unit does. And creating conditions to execute it well means running against the grain of most everything we are now doing or are encouraged by the system to do. But we’re supposed to implement it anyway. After all, it is official doctrine. But can we? Many Marines will lament in hushed tones that we cannot.

This, then, is the fulcrum of the whole argument-mission control is simply too hard for the Marine Corps to do, given current operational realities. It could be true that without the necessary institutional changes to support it, mission control cannot be expected to work well enough in combat to bring success.

Assessing the Argument

Those advocating more detailed control in our C^sup 2^ philosophy, such as the synchronization school, are acutely aware of this possibility. There is certainly the lure of pragmatism in what they are attempting to do. With great sincerity, they are hard at work to sidestep the problem, to solve it in another way. That is a laudable goal, since implementing mission control in today’s military seems akin to banging one’s head against a wall. If the argument is true that mission control cannot work without the training and cohesion it demands, it’s hard to condemn what they are doing. They want to adapt their methodology to the other, more easily attainable, features of maneuver warfare. They aim to bind up this Achilles’ heel with the synchronization tape and get on with tackling other issues.

Unlike mission control, tools necessary for detailed control can be learned to a basic degree of competency after a few classes and field problems. Actually doing it also comes more naturally. Commanders and staffs feel more accomplishment after mastering it. In exercises, such C^sup 2^ techniques appear much easier to implement, more practical, and seem more realistic. But never mind whether detailed control methods feel easier, practical, and realistic in peacetime. The real question is: Are they going to actually work in combat? Is this philosophy an alternative that materially contributes to victory in the chaos of war, not just in exercises?

To the dismay of the maneuverists, sometimes it will. Witness the triumph of the U.S. Army’s centrally controlled attack on the relatively inert Iraqis in the Gulf War. Despite this one example, there is real doubt as to whether it often will work. We suffered no major surprises in the Gulf War. Is a tendency for detailed control (especially in its latest incarnation-synchronization) a hindrance for a force trying to cope with a major surprise? Maneuverists such as Maj John F. Schmitt make a good case in saying that it is; it simply takes too long to get positive control when initial assumptions turn out to be grossly mistaken. And, as he points out, the history of warfare is replete with examples of forces finding out that their initial assumptions were grossly mistaken.

While the forms and character of war change, the nature of warfare does not. Success in synchronization is absolutely dependent on the ability to anticipate accurately a range of enemy actions. Synchronization offers us nothing better than the forlorn hope of finding an enemy with a preference for acting in ways we can predict. But we may not be able to choose our enemies, nor adequately foresee how they will wage war against us. That has been the trend of history.

While they have labored mightily to fix what they see as the biggest problem with maneuver warfare-reliability-the synchronizers ironically end up in much the same situation. Synchronization is not a reliable enough means of command and control either, albeit for a different reason. Let’s assume that research confirms our worst supposition that mission control can’t optimally work because of the nature of our institutions. It still does not negate the fact that synchronization won’t work either because of the nature of warfare. And trying to buck the nature of war is, I would argue, a more futile endeavor than bucking one’s own military culture.

At least mission control offers hope of success against unpredictable foes if we would only muster the will to change ourselves. That is not completely inconceivable (though it seems so at times). The Prussians found the will after being humiliated by Napoleon in 1806. Maybe it takes such an unambiguous defeat to create such a will. Perhaps we cannot change ourselves so radically, so necessarily, until we ourselves are massively defeated. But rather than end on such a pessimistic note, it is worth remembering that although mission control is hard to do successfully, this does not justify abandoning it. Marines have never been known for shrinking away from the difficult.

The controversy over mission control boils down to this: Are we willing to give up the hard road to combat success for something easier that might only work occasionally? Do we struggle to adapt our institutions to fit a superior warfighring philosophy, or do we settle for a sometimes successful methodology so we don’t have to change our military culture?

Note

* For other recent examples, see letter by Capt Robert W. Jones, MCG, Mar95, p. 13 and the article by LtCol G. Stephen Lauer that follows in this issue.

Less SigInt, More EW

by Maj Rodney L. Dearth

Electronic warfare is an important, but possibly neglected, component of the Marine radio battalions’ mission. This author points out that Marines need to focus more attention on this aspect of maneuver warfare.

Backed by proper intelligence information and employed in conceit with destructive fire weapons, electronic countermeasures (ECM) can be extremely useful on the battlefield. This fact is nothing new, and a variety of conceptual approaches to combining electronic warfare (EW) with other battlefield activities has existed for some time. Strategies such as command and control communications countermeasures (C^sup 3^CM) and, more recently, command and control warfare (C^sup 2^W) are attempts to devise a systematic approach to the employment of intelligence, fires, and EW, on the modem battlefield.

C^sup 2^W (and previously, C^sup 3^CM) represents a holistic approach to concepts that the Marine Corps, as an institution, wholeheartedly supports. Unfortunately, our support is mostly rhetorical because we have not built the capability in our operating forces to conduct C^sup 2^W in all its dimensions.

This failure is most pervasive and readily seen on the ground side where the Corps’ signals intelligence/electronic warfare (SigInt/EW) units have traditionally placed very little emphasis on one of C^sup 2^Ws principal componentsEW. The reasons for our superficial approach to EW are varied but have historical precedent in the origin of the Corps’ SigInt/EW capability.

SigInt/EW units in today’s Marine Corps harken back to their forebears of World War II-the radio intelligence platoons of the division signal companies, which supported our amphibious forces in the Pacific theater.

Establishment of the platoons was authorized by the Navy Department in March 1943. They were given the signals intelligence mission of conducting communications intercept and radio direction finding against Japanese military and naval units, as well as the electronic warfare mission of own force communication security monitoring.

Key to the Navy Department’s authorization to establish these units was the stipulation that the platoons would be under the functional control of the Navy Communications Intelligence Organization. Why mandate this particular stipulation? Because inherent to functional control was the requirement for the platoons to forward collected information that “… could not be utilized by Marine forces in the field,” directly to Fleet Radio Unit Pacific (a Navy unit commonly referred to as FRUPac). Additionally, Navy communications intelligence (ComInt) activities like FRUPac could direct the platoons to perform strategic or operational level Comlnt on a secondary basis.

While this degree of control by the Navy over the radio intelligence platoons is significant because of the precedent it set, perhaps of even greater relevence to today’s problems was the fact that these early SigInt/EW Marines received their skill training through Navy owned and operated schools.

What should be apparent from this brief historical discussion was the early emphasis on signals gathering, particularly for operational and strategic intelligence purposes, as opposed to any emphasis at all on tactical electronic warfare. Although all aspects of EW were understood and employed during World War II, especially jamming, our Marine forebears and the Navy obviously did not consider it an important mission for the radio intelligence platoons. The greater significance of this apparent decision to ignore EW, as well as the effects resulting from the comprehensive relationship established between the Navy and the radio intelligence platoons, was the initiation of a long-term, Navy-oriented emphasis on SigInt in the Corps.

The platoons were disbanded shortly after the Pacific campaigns, and the Marine Corps had no SigInt/EW capability until the early 1960s when we again established a radio intelligence unit, this time at the company level.

As in World War II, the radio companies were oriented on communications intercept for higher command intelligence purposes. The Marines again received their skill training under the auspices of Navy cryptologic schools, and a close relationship with the Navy’s cryptologic hierarchy was maintained.

The eventual expansion of the radio companies into the battalions we have today changed nothing with respect to their mission orientation or training. All through the Vietnam War, SigInt/EW Marines concentrated on providing intelligence information derived from communications intercept and radio direction finding. In other words, they conducted Sigint, not EW.

By the early 1970s, the Corps was starting to give some thought to the various aspects of EW. To this end, the radio battalions even acquired dedicated communications jamming equipment. Nevertheless, the principal emphasis continued to be on tactical signals intelligence operations. One Marine Corps SigInt/EW professional declared in the late 1970s, “. . . ECM is the least important aspect of the Corps’ signals warfare posture.” He summed up his position on the matter by stating, “The Marine Corps has not radiated one electron in anger against the enemy (but we have copied and exploited many).”

These comments came in the wake of an August 1978 article by MGenJohn H. Miller (at the time Commanding General, Marine Corps Development Command) in the Marine Corps Gazette that claimed Marine Corps EW must be developed to stand abreast of the Corps’ other supporting arms. Obviously, the first author’s comments reflected an attitude which was inimical to Gen Miller’s desires, as well as the desires of the Corps as a whole. Today, this attitude of resistance may have abated somewhat, but if one examines the relationship of Marine Corps EW (particularly ECM) to its actual employment and use in training, it would seem that the thrust of our tactical SigInt/EW units is still intelligence collection.

Another reason for the emphasis on SigInt is that the radio battalions have enjoyed a great deal of success at it during the past two decades. The battalions’ good reputations have been built, for practical purposes, exclusively on their ability to successfully exploit the communications of our adversaries for intelligence purposes. Such successes have earned them accolades from commanders at the tactical, operational, and strategic levels. For example, within the past decade both battalions have been recipients of a prestigious award given by the National Security Agency, and one has been awarded the Navy Meritorious Unit Citation. Also, at least one of the battalions has been “mentioned in dispatches” by tactical commanders who have enjoyed its support during realworld operations.

Under these circumstances, and with that kind of positive reinforcement, it is little wonder that the radio battalions are oriented towards tactical SigInt. They have obviously developed the proper operating formula for their intelligence role. However, these successes have had a negative effect with regards to our ground EW capability because they reinforced the prevailing attitude of the Corps’ SigInt leadership regarding the supremacy of intelligence collection versus EW. With this in mind, we need also to keep in perspective the environment that permitted the battalions’ achievements.

Throughout the last two decades, most of the situations involving Marine forces supported by our own SigInt/EW units could best be described as operations other than war. The SigInt targets were the communications systems of relatively unsophisticated foreign military, paramilitary, police, and guerrilla organizations. Successfully solving the SigInt problems presented by these targets was the principal concern of the radio battalions. At the same time, the battalions fended off inquiries regarding ECM employment against real-world targets. This comment is based on my personal experiences while deployed with Landing Force Sixth Fleet during 1983-1984. The cumulative effect of these events was, as I mentioned earlier, to simply reinforce the orientation of the radio battalions as tactical SigInt units.

Even during the late 1980s, the senior leadership in the Marine Corps SigInt/EW community still argued emphatically that the radio battalion was primarily a tactical SigInt unit. While serving on the staff of the commanding general, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, I was taken to task several times by senior officers in the SigInt community who regarded my promotion of ground EW as contrary to the interests of the radio battalions. In 1988, during the course of a working group convened to rewrite Marine Corps SigInt/EW doctrine, one of the field’s most senior officers vehemently argued that “electronic warfare” doctrine did not even exist in the Marine Corps. He was totally unaware of an existing operational handbook (OH) on the subject that had been in use for 2 years. While it can be argued that an operational handbook does not necessarily constitute doctrine because it is not directive, the fact that a senior SigInt/EW officer did not even know the Corps had published an OH on EW is indicative of how tenaciously our SigInt orientation was protected.

Unfortunately for the Marine Corps, the tactical and operational commanders of the past two decades were mostly ignorant of the ongoing doctrinal arguments in the SigInt/EW community. They were, however, increasingly demanding the kind of ground EW support they had been led to believe the radio battalions could provide. These demands and the growing emphasis on EW in the joint arena, combined with the Commandant’s emphasis on maneuver warfare, did lead to acquisitions of new ground EW equipment, notably the Mobile Electronic Warfare Support System (MEWSS) which, unfortunately, has proven to be an unreliable system not capable of performing all aspects of the mission it was intended for. Increased emphasis on EW also prompted experiments with helicopterborne ECM. Yet, despite this limited progression, what was needed most has never been developed-a viable tactical doctrine.

The principal Marine Corps reference for EW matters is FMFM 7-12, Electronic Warfare. The current version of this manual was published in May of 1991. It is far and away the best the Marine Corps has produced with respect to electronic warfare doctrine, but it still leaves a great deal to be desired regarding the actual mechanics of tactical EW.

One of the most significant shortfalls of this doctrine is the failure to discuss coordination of EW with fire support, which is a key feature of the C^sup 2^W strategy. While this aspect of warfighting has long since been addressed in the EW doctrine of the other Services, particularly the Army, it receives no mention in our own. This is undoubtedly a reflection of the “SigInt only” attitude which still infuses the Corps’ SigInt/EW community. As an example, despite my own successful, albeit ad hoc, employment of ground radio direction finding (RDF) as a method of targeting artillery fires, there is still a great reluctance among the SigInt/EW leadership to use RDF in this combined arms approach.

We have been official proponents of the C^sup 3^CM strategy for many years and, as mentioned earlier, this strategy (and now C^sup 2^W) calls for a true combined arms approach involving several activities including jamming, protection, and destructive fires. Why then, doesn’t Marine Corps tactical doctrine reflect this issue? It is because of the institutional hold SigInt has on the Corps’ ground SigInt/EW units.

FMFM 7-12 is an improvement over previous doctrinal publications of its type, but it still fails to address the grass-roots-level procedures for ground tactical EW that are lacking in the Marine Corps. There is nothing in the manual that tells the personnel in our SigInt/EW community exactly how to do things such as establish a direction finding baseline to support landing operations, or how to site jammers for optimal effectiveness against the target and to allow for EW team survival. In my conversations with many ground EW officers, I have found few who can explain certain basic EW employment principles that all should know automatically. The situation is worse among our sergeants and corporals. The Corps could go a long way towards rectifying this problem by developing some good, basic, tactical doctrine (i.e., techniques and procedures) aimed at the SigInt/EW operator.

Notwithstanding our ground electronic warfare ills, the Corps can still make good use of its present EW capabilities in the context of maneuver warfare. First, however, the warfighter must recognize that maneuver warfare does not simply mean how often and how quickly we can move our forces around on the battlefield. To quote our doctrine, “. . . successful maneuver depends on the ability to identify and exploit enemy weakness, not simply on the expenditure of superior might.”

The identification and exploitation of enemy electronic weaknesses is the raison d’etre of electronic warfare, but not when warfighters most often attempt to use EW simply as an additional means to “pile on.” Let me illustrate with a personal example from my own experience.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to provide EW support to a MAGTF involved in a NATO exercise in Northern Europe. At one point, I was tasked to provide direct communications jamming support to a mechanized raid against the opposition forces (opfor) rear area. When I briefed the raid commander on my unit’s capability, I pointed out that the tactical considerations for jamming operations to support his raid were not favorable (the terrain was heavily compartmented). I also mentioned that I did not yet know the opfor electronic order of battle and had been unable to identify any of his communications frequencies. Furthermore, I had only one linguist in my unit capable of intercepting in the target language. Finally, I did not have locating data on any opfor communications emitters in the forward areas, much less in the rear area. I explained that these factors coupled with my relatively low powered jamming equipment made the mission he was proposing a waste of the MAGTF’s assets.

The commander acknowledged my operational constraints but declared that he had been taught raids were supposed to have EW support, so the one he was about to lead would have it. His response to my lack of data on the opfor was to “. . . jam all the freqs!”

Jamming all the frequencies was a technical impossibility, but even if it hadn’t been, to have done so would still have been a significant waste of a limited asset. Not only did that raid commander demonstrate a poor comprehension of maneuver warfare by trying to employ one aspect of superior might where it had no possibility for success, he also demonstrated that he didn’t understand that ECM is best used like a sniper rifle, not an area weapon.

This was just one of many examples of the all too common improper employment of EW I have seen over the years, and it could have been avoided if the commander had been a bit better informed about the maneuver warfare principles vis a vis EW.

Maneuver warfare is concerned principally with the effect our actions have on the enemy relative to the advantages created for us. In the example cited above, I doubt seriously if the jamming had any effect at all on the opfor because it was an unfocused application of force. EW, like any other Marine Corps asset, must be employed in a context which attempts to elicit a specific response from the enemy, such as jamming his covered nets to force him to communicate in the clear. More important, it must be used in concert with other assets to achieve an overall response, which is ultimately “. . . to shatter the enemy’s cohesion.” This is the core of our maneuver warfare doctrine, and we need to keep it in mind at all times, particularly when we employ our limited EW assets.

In the previous example, the proper employment of EW might have involved monitoring the opfor rear area communications to identify the circuit or net used by security forces, and to identify command nets to forces deployed forward. If at all possible, the emitters should have been geo-located (by RDF) so that upon commencement of the raid, transmitting sites could be hit by destructive fire weapons. At the same time the receivers of the security forces could have been jammed to prevent those units from hearing and responding to emergency calls.

One of the first and most important things we have to do is to review our SigInt/EW doctrine with an eye towards the 21st century. This means we must put old concepts and heretofore sacred SigInt dogma behind us. As EW operators, we need to truly get on board with the combined arms aspect of warfighting. The threat is growing too sophisticated to rely totally on our tactical SigInt abilities. To repeat a previous example, instead of resisting the idea of radio direction finding as a targeting method, we need to start pushing it to the warfighters (and to ourselves). It has worked in the past, and it can work in the future. If we have technical limitations, then we should be pounding our research and development (R&D) folks to solve them.

If we don’t adopt this approach to our development of EW doctrine and willingly employ it in support of the warfighters, the warfighters will forsake EW completely. We have to remember that they are the folks who decide how the money, billets, and other assets are allocated. If we don’t give them what they want, they won’t give us the things we need. Believe me, they want and expect ground EW as a combined arms asset.

Concurrent with our doctrinal development, we need to energetically develop the tactics to support command and control warfare. It’s a good strategy, just like C^sup 3^CM was, and we shouldn’t let it lie unused. At the same time, we need to make sure the rest of the Corps’ operators are on board with it. Above all else, the tactics we develop should ensure that we can provide EW support in the C^sup 2^W context to all types of battlefield operations.

For our own SigInt/EW operators we need to develop realistic tactics, techniques, and procedures that tell them exactly how to do their jobs at the nuts-and-bolts level. We’ve never had a SigInt/EW FMFM that was useful to anyone below an 0-5 staff level, and it’s time we produced one. If we expect our young Marines to provide EW support, let’s give them a roadmap to get there.

Military occupational specialty (MOS) training for both officers and enlisted in the SigInt/EW specialties needs to be changed to emphasize the tactical aspects of our business. As I mentioned earlier, Marine SigInt/EW training hasbeen tied to the Navy since 1943. Right now, Marine lieutenants entering the 2600 field receive their principal MOS training via the Navy’s Cryptologic Division Officer Course. This school is designed to prepare Navy officers to perform a cryptologic mission on board surface ships, primarily combatants such as carriers and cruisers. It’s a good school, for the Navy, but it doesn’t adequately prepare a young Marine officer for duty with the radio battalion.

The bread-and-butter operators of our enlisted community, the linguists, are in much the same boat. While they receive their MOS training on an Air Force base, the material they are presented is organized, developed, and taught primarily under the auspices of the Navy. Granted, we have Marine instructors in some of the classrooms, and we have input to the courseware development, but the fact remains that the material is strongly Navy oriented.

Mitigating against this situation was a recent Marine Corps initiative to provide schoolhouse training on one of our tactical systems to Marines undergoing crypto analytical instruction at the same school our linguists attend. However, the bottom line is that the meat-and-potatoes SigInt/EW operators get their critical, tactical MOS skills via on-the-job training. This is unsatisfactory. We should be teaching our intercept operators their tactical skills at school, not in the FMF just before they deploy.

Another pressing deficiency we need to correct is in the area of equipment. To cite just one example, the radio battalions have been employing 1970’s technology receivers for years as their frontline intercept equipment. These receivers are not only old and prone to breakage, but they lack the capability found in even relatively low-tech receivers available to the general public at retail. Sadly, I am personally aware of instances where MOS 2600 Marines have purchased their own receivers from sources such as Radio Shack just so they would have at least one radio of modern, albeit limited, capability while on deployment.

This deficiency was recognized by a recent intelligence mission area analysis, just as it has been recognized in past analyses. The answer is the same this year as it has been in the past-new systems are in the development cycle. Unfortunately, initial operating capability for the most desperately needed equipment is still a ways off. Instead of waiting, we need to adopt a QRC (quick reaction capability) approach and purchase some state-of-the-art, off-the-shelf equipment to tide our Marines over. The cost would be minimal compared to what the Marine Corps spends to field a system through the R&D process. As for supportability, it too would cost little and radio battalion maintenance technicians are more than capable of handling the most sophisticated repairs. If they aren’t, then we can get them contract supported training just as we have for other systems in the past.

The SigInt/EW community cannot pretend to be able to provide the kind of EW support the rest of the Marine Corps expects unless we start correcting the deficiencies in these areas. There will be some inertia to overcome in making the needed changes, but the right leadership, properly applied, will get the job done. The following general principles must be kept in mind as the problems are worked:

* We must consistently assign our best and brightest SigInt/EW operators and thinkers to the Marine Corps’ doctrine branch. We need to take the front-runners who are fresh from operational tours in the FMF, put them in place, and task them with developing a new, responsive, and dynamic doctrine that emphasizes EW as a combined arm. To get this type of doctrine, we should employ developers from not only the SigInt/EW community, but also from the combat arms MOSs.

* The SigInt/EW tactics we employ must be coordinated with, and complement, the tactics being developed and used by the Marine Corps’ other operational elements. They must be realistically and routinely tested, at the radio battalion level and objectively evaluated through appropriate means.

* SigInt/EW training for Marines needs to achieve a healthy balance between Marine Corps unique requirements and Navy cryptology. We never signed up with the Navy ’til death do us part, and while a divorce probably isn’t necessary, a good evaluation of our mutually supporting relationship might be. We need to seek out the schools and instruction that can prepare our young officers and enlisted Marines for duty in the radio battalions.

* We desperately need to bring a new approach to EW equipment acquisition. The SigInt/EW community has wasted millions of R&D dollars developing and acquiring systems that do not serve our needs and are technically inadequate from day one. Before we spend even one more dollar on research and development, we should decide exactly what tactics we are going to use to support the Fleet Marine Force, write those tactics into doctrine, and then buy the equipment to support it. In the meantime, let’s get some useful QRC equipment into the hands of the operators so they can continue to work.

In closing, I would like to offer this final comment: It would be unfair to the hundreds of Marines in the SigInt/EW business who put their hopes and faith in leaders to improve things to let this discussion end on a sour note. Consequently, I would remind all who read this that the radio battalions are still the premier tactical intelligence organizations in the Marine Corps. Their hard work and diligent efforts have been directly responsible for saving the lives of many Marines. In evaluating the arguments and issues I’ve presented, don’t forget this important fact.

Aviation’s Role, Properly Understood

reviewed by William S. Lind

AIR POWER AND MANEUVER WARFARE. By Martin van Creveld, with Steven L. Canby and Kenneth S. Brower. Air University Press, Maxwell AFB, AL, 1994, 268 pp.,(Available for active duty personnel through Air University Press.)

For at least a decade, Marines have awaited a book that would provide a solid basis for understanding how to employ air power in maneuver warfare. Air Power and Maneuver Warfare meets that longstanding need. At the same time, it must be said that this book-one of Martin van Creveld’s lighter works-begins but does not complete the process of developing a thorough historical understanding of the role of aviation in the maneuver battle and campaign.

Martin van Creveld is undoubtedly the most thought-provoking military historian writing today. His book, The Transformation of War (The Free Press, New York, 1991), is the most important book on war written in the last quarter-century. Here he is joined by two other eminent authorities, Steven L. Canby, who is probably the best American ground-force analyst, and Kenneth S. Brower, a noted naval architect and specialist on the Israeli Defense Forces. Regrettably, as is often the case in such collaborative efforts, the whole is somewhat less than the sum of its parts. (Note: in the authors’ biographies on page ix of the book, the photos of Brower and Canby are inverted.)

Air Power and Maneuver Warfare’s most important point is that in maneuver warfare, air power is focused neither at the tactical level, in close air support, nor at the strategic level, in what was called strategic bombing and is now known as deep interdiction. Rather, it is focused at the operational level. What that means and how historically it was done, by the Germans, the Soviets, and the Israelis, is in turn the logical focus of the book.

The first chapter lays out the nature of maneuver warfare. Appropriately, the bulk of the chapter is about ground warfare, since air power in maneuver warfare is closely integrated with action on the ground. Since all three authors have a well-developed understanding of maneuver warfare, the chapter offers little to criticize. Marines will find it not only an accurate summary of well-known maneuver warfare concepts but also an intelligent discourse on some of the less well-known aspects of maneuver warfare such as logistics.

The second and third chapters deal with the German experience beginning with World War I and look in some detail at the lessons the Germans drew from the Spanish Civil War. Then, the use of air power in the blitzkrieg in Poland, France and, in chapter 3, Russia, is reviewed in depth. Usually, the Luftwaffe’s role in these campaigns is presented largely in terms of close air support, such as that provided to Guderian in his crossing of the Meuse on 13 May 1940. But the book notes that this was the exception, not the rule. The Germans lacked the command and control measures necessary for close support where ground forces were intermixed, and in any case the Luftwaffe strongly resisted attempts to make it subordinate to the army. Rather, the Luftwaffe focused on operational tasks, which “required an understanding by air commanders of the situation on the ground but not close cooperation.” These tasks included destroying the enemy’s air force to prevent it from interfering with German operational movements, attacking enemy operational reserves (often the air Schwerpunkt-focal effort at the center of gravity), protecting the open flanks of German operational spearheads, and providing emergency resupply of ammunition, and petroleum, oils, and lubricants to fast-moving German ground units. In Russia, another key role for air power emerged, though it was one the Luftwaffe did not much like: serving as a “fire brigade” to deal with Russian counterattacks until ground forces could be repositioned to defeat them. The difficulty of closing the pockets in the vast Kesselschlachten on the eastern front also left the Luftwaffe performing that task, although with mixed results.

Looking at the work of the Luftwaffe in Russia, Air Power and Maneuver Warfare offers an excellent summary of the roles aircraft can play in maneuver warfare with potentially decisive effect:

. . . the contribution that the Luftwaffe made to the campaign was enormous. It was able to secure air superiority and protect friendly forces against attack, although its ability to carry out the latter mission diminished as rime passed. Next, its forces used every means at its (sic) disposal to help the army move forward. Luftwaffe units reconnoitered the enemy ahead of the army and often helped the latter’s commanders decide on the best direction in which to mount their operativ thrusts. They flew supplies to army units that could not he reached in any other way. They protected the long, exposed flanks that naturally resulted from the blitzkrieg style of war, forming Schwerpunkt wherever and whenever the enemy showed signs of preparing a counterattack. They helped prevent the withdrawal of trapped Soviet forces and launched punishing attacks on those that had been cut off inside the pockets created by the army’s operativ thrusts. Whenever a river was to be crossed or an important city to be captured, the Luftwaffe was certain to be found flying close-support missions even to the point where it literally dropped its bombs at the German infantryman’s feet.

Chapter 4, which discusses the Soviets’ use of air power in their version of maneuver warfare, offers the book’s most surprising observations. Usually, the Soviet air force is dismissed in contempt as perhaps the least effective air force of any of the major belligerents in World War II. This book sees it otherwise. It argues that because the Soviet air force was focused at the operational level, it was highly effective-perhaps more effective than the tactically far superior air forces of the Western powers-in terms of the actual utility of the results it obtained.

What did it mean from the Soviet standpoint to focus air power at the operational level? The key was disrupting the movement of German operational reserves, which were the main threat to attacking Soviet forces.

Thus, operationally speaking, disruption translated into compartmentalizing enemy reserves to prevent their mutual support. This resulted in Soviet air power sometimes being used in bridge attacks (normally planned missions) and, much more commonly, large-scale “free hunt” search-and-destroy missions against moving tank columns as well as their supporting artillery, infantry, and antitank units. Therefore, disruption was the priority within the priority missions for Soviet tactical aviation.

More broadly,

Aviation enters the Soviet scheme primarily because the operations of ground forces will cause the enemy to move and expose himself to air. Conversely, the task of air is to disrupt his tempo and even bring his movements to a halt, thus enabling friendly ground forces to pin, envelop, and destroy him.

Here again we see the high level of sophistication the Soviet armed forces achieved at the operational level, during and after World War II. Focused as it was through the Cold War (and largely remains) at the tactical level, the U.S. military had difficulty seeing this. It appears this may have been even more true in regard to air power than it was in respect to ground warfare.

These initial chapters of the book are very good, although they sometimes leave the reader longing for more detail, especially with regard to the design, command, and control of air operations. Just how did the Germans and the Soviets get their air forces to work at the operational level? How did they create in them the willingness to do this, and how did they get them to understand the ground situation so that they could do it? It is in answering questions such as these that much more remains to be written on the subject of air power and maneuver warfare.

With Chapter 5, on the Israel’s use of air power, the book gets somewhat weaker. The chapter is an excellent and insightful discourse on Israeli’s wars in the Sinai, but it deals only peripherally with air power. It does make the point that, once again, the Israelis’ focus for air power was the operational level. But here the source material should offer a wealth of information on how they made it happen, yet little is said.

Chapter 6, “Maneuver Warfare and Air Power in the 1990s,” is devoted mostly to a discussion of what air power could do in Europe in the event of a revival of a Russian threat. But this case is so unlikely-even if the Russians sought to become a threat again, their internal condition and the changed geographic relationships make it almost impossible, at least at the conventional level-that the discussion has a strong air of unreality. The chapter’s final section, “Differences in Styles of War for Air Power,” is a thoughtful summary of how the employment of air power changes-quite radically-in maneuver warfare.

While Chapter 6 ends the book proper, it does not stop there. It includes two addenda, one brilliant, the other bizarre. The brilliant addendum is an appendix on DESERT STORM that offers the best published debunking to date of that “great victory.” It argues conclusively that DESERT STORM was not maneuver warfare and that the envelopment by VII Corps was poorly conceived and executed. As in Chapter 5, not much is said about air power, but the dissection of DESERT STORM from a maneuverist perspective is easily worth the diversion.

The bizarre addendum is, in effect, an Air Force disavowal of everything else in the book. Written by the staff at Maxwell, it twists and turns and wiggles to try to get the book to justify Douhet-style “strategic” use of air power, which of course the book in fact undercuts.

It is easy to see what happened. The Air Force, having inadvertently created a thoughtful, honest appraisal of how air power can best be employed, was appalled at the conclusion. It was about to put out a product that brought its own “aerospace power” propaganda into question. So instead of taking its medicine like a man and thereby earning for itself some moral and intellectual credit, it ordered its “think tank” at Maxwell to write a weasel piece. The result is an appendix that reads as if written by lawyers, not soldiers. In terms of the impression of the Air Force it will create with any serious reader, it leaves that Service where, in Chapter 1 of the book, the French commander at Sedan in 1870 reported himself: “Nous sommes dans un pot de chambre et nous y serrons emerdees.”

Lessons on Maneuver Warfare and Fighting Smart

by Col Lawrence G. Karch, USMC(Ret)

The Marine Corps has officially adopted maneuver warfare as “. . . a philosophy for generating the greatest decisive effect against the enemy at the least possible cost to ourselves-a philosophy for fighting smart. ” Alongside maneuver warfare, the last two Commandants of the Marine Corps have placed renewed emphasis on the study of military history. By learning the lessons of past battles, Marines will thereby become more adept at fighting smart.

The East Prussia campaign of World War I-often referred to as Tannenberg after its most important battle-is of interest today because it is a clear example of the successes of both maneuver warfare and fighting smart. In August 1914, at the same time that German forces were pouring into France, thereby executing the infamous Schlieffen Plan, two invading Russian armies failed miserably to defeat a much smaller German force that maneuvered brilliantly to score decisive victories. The ringing lessons of Tannenberg transcend 80 years.

War Preparations

Germany entered World War I with the best equipped army on the continent. Each active German division contained 12 batteries of light artillery (twice as many as a Russian division), backed by 6 batteries of howitzers. Each active German corps had an attached battalion of heavy howitzers. Further, such impressive firepower was supported by an efficient logistics system fed by Germany’s highly developed rail network. Indeed, the best and brightest officers on the German General Staff were assigned to logistics planning involving wartime use of the railroads.

Germany’s advantages were not confined to the material. Across the board, German soldiers engaged in tougher and more realistic training than those in other armies. German junior officers had a much better grasp of the tactical problems posed by modem weaponry. At higher levels, the General Staff system produced officers skilled in large-scale operations.

The Russian army, on the other hand, appeared to have made a remarkable recovery from defeat in the Russo-Japanese War some 10 years prior. To foreign observers, Russia’s vast manpower inspired visions of inexorable advance crushing all opposition. Before World War I, the term “Russian steamroller” was widely heard in Paris and London. The governments of both countries placed great faith in the massive Russian Army in any future war with Germany.

However, in reality, the field armies of Czar Nicholas II were poorly prepared for the challenges of modem warfare. The entire army was short a million modem rifles and a billion cartridges. There were not enough uniforms or boots. While Russia had 60 batteries of heavy artillery, Germany had 381. In August 1914, Russian depots held 7 million artillery shells, but only 650,000 more were delivered during the remainder of the year. Soon after hostilities started, many Russian artillery batteries were limited to firing no more than four rounds per day due, in part, to a lack of transport for munitions.

But in truth, the greatest Russian deficiencies lay elsewhere. Command of Russian forces was mostly entrusted to men whose only talent consisted of flattering their weak-willed monarch. Russian officers, mostly aristocrats, openly displayed contempt for the peasant conscripts they led. Such contempt led to mistreatment, which engendered resentment in the normally patriotic Russian soldier. In time, resentment would grow into revolution.

War Plans

To repulse a surprise German invasion, France wanted an early Russian attack into East Prussia to draw German forces from the Western Front. In 1911, the French extracted a Russian promise to invade East Prussia on the 16th day following general mobilization (M+16). The French knew Russia could not completely mobilize and concentrate all its forces in 16 days, but an early Russian attack of any magnitude was essential.

In 1912, Gen Jilinsky, chief of the Russian General Staff, foolishly promised the French that all 800,000 Russians intended for East Prussia would fight one day sooner-on M+15. The next year, he further advanced the planned attack to M+13. Thus, the seeds of Russian defeat were sown, watered, and fertilized long before the conflict began.

The Russian plan for East Prussia called for separate advances by two armies of about 400,000 men each. The Russian First Army, commanded by Gen Pavel Rennenkampf, would advance due west and engage the largest Gentian force as close to the Russian border as possible. The Russian Second Army, under Gen Alexander Samsonov, would swing around south of the Masurian Lakes region into the rear of the engaged German force.

Russian success depended on coordinated movement of their two armies. But even here there were unneeded complications. Samsonov and Rennenkampf were old and bitter rivals going back to the Russo-Japanese War. And Rennenkampf was not even on speaking terms with the promisethe-French-anything Gen Jilinsky. These personal animosities did not augur well for a concerted Russian effort.

Germany was thoroughly committed to defending East Prussia, the home of the Hohenzollern ruling class, despite intentions to execute the Schlieffen Plan. There would be no retreat in East Prussia. The defending Gentian Eighth Army was about two-thirds the size of either Russian army, superior in artillery, logistically sound, and extremely well trained. The Eighth Army’s strategy-indeed the only hope of victory-was to sequentially attack and defeat the separate Russian armies.

Sarajevo Assassination

Following the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand, Russia mobilized on 30 July 1914. When a German ultimatum to demobilize expired, Germany mobilized and declared war on Russia. Now events moved fast. Four days later, Germany initiated the Schlieffen Plan on the Western Front.

Eight days after Germany moved on France, Russia fulfilled her prewar promise to France by moving the lead elements of the two armies into East Prussia. However, Russia’s invasion started well before all her support units had mobilized. Both Russian armies thus began moving away from their unprepared logistics bases and toward some very prepared and determined Germans.

The early Russian invasion of East Prussia shocked the German General Staff, which had assured Kaiser Wilhelm that Russia would require at least 6 weeks to fully mobilize. This was a reasonable estimate given sound logistical planning. However, this estimate did not contemplate an attack with poor logistical preparation. Had the Kaiser even suspected an early Russian invasion of East Prussia, he might never have permitted the German General Staff to move on France. Kaiser Wilhelm constantly expressed concern for East Pmssia in a two front war to Gen Helmuth von Moltke, Chief of the General Staff.

Aborted Ambush on the Angerapp

LtGen Maximilian von Prittwitz, the obese commander of the German Eighth Army in East Prussia, owed his rapid promotions and army command more to his close friendship with the Kaiser and less to merit. Gen Moltke tried for years to get rid of Prittwitz but to no avail. Following the Russian invasion, Prittwitz wanted to abandon East Prussia and defend instead on the Vistula River. However, he knew this was not an option, at least not initially, so he accepted the advice of his chief of staff, Col Max Hoffmann, to lure Rennenkampf into an ambush west of Gumbinnen on the River Angerapp. If the Russians were defeated quickly here, he could then move southwest to deal with the Russian Second Army.

Unfortunately for Prittwitz, these plans were spoiled by an act of insubordination on the part of MajGen Hermann von Francois, one of his corps commanders. Francois, an East Prussian who held little regard for Prittwitz, launched an unauthorized attack against one of Rennenkampfs divisions at Stallupoiien, some 25 miles east of Gumbinnen. After a brief and highly successful engagement where Francois took 3,000 prisoners, he withdrew westward.

But the Germans had now lost the element of surprise. Instead of pressing forward and falling into the prepared German trap on the Angerapp, a cautious Rennenkampf halted. Moreover, the Russian General Staff strangely choose to interpret the withdrawal of Francois’ corps from Stalluponen as a German evacuation from all of East Prussia! If true, this would dash Russian plans to trap and destroy German forces in East Prussia.

Repulse at Gumbinnen

Prittwitz was now in a dilemma. He wanted to fight a defensive battle on the Angerapp, but Rennenkampf wouldn’t cooperate, and all the while Samsonov would be moving up from the south into his rear. So, goaded on by the aggressive Francois, Prittwitz ordered an attack on Rennenkampf using four corps on line. However, the attack lacked coordination-once again the problem was with the impetuous Francois.

On the German left, Francois was in an excellent position to attack Rennenkampf because his corps was closer to its assigned target. Francois was so close because he had once again disobeyed Prittwitz by not pulling his corps all the way back to the Angerapp after his initial unauthorized attack at Stalluponen. However, the other three German corps were still on the Angerapp and would have to move a considerably greater distance to engage the Russians.

In the predawn of 20 August 1914, following fast upon a night forced march, Francois and his corps struck the Russian right flank like a hammer out of the darkness. Russian artillery initially put up a spirited defense, but when their ammunition ran low (an early Russian logistics casualty), the Germans prevailed.

Later in the day, however, in the Russian center and on the left flank, the Teutons fared very differently. With their longer march from the Angerapp, three German corps attacked several hours later than Francois. The Russians were ready for these attacks and soundly rebuffed the Germans. Two of the attacking German corps were routed in great disorder. The uncharacteristic sight of defeated German soldiers streaming mob-like to the rear really unnerved Prittwitz. He telephoned Moltke and announced that all was lost in East Prussia, and that the Eighth Army would retreat behind the Vistula to avoid annihilation. Moltke, of course, could hardly believe his ears.

Had the Russians pursued the retreating Germans, the Eighth Army would have been in serious trouble. But, Rennenkampf did not pursue. He did not even send forward his five cavalry divisions, which had not seen action, to maintain contact with the retreating enemy. Rennenkampf had his reasons for holding fast, but the opportunity to inflict a decisive defeat on the German Eighth Army would not come again. Indeed, when he next encountered the Eighth Army, the situation would be very different.

Hindenburg and LudendorfF

Moltke reacted quickly to replace Prittwitz. For a new commander, Moltke brought Gen Paul von Hindenburg out of retirement. Hindenburg had a reputation for imperturbability-a quality which the new German commander in East Prussia would surely require. For chief of staff, Moltke selected MajGen Erich Ludendorff. Ludendorff was already a war hero having led the capture of the key Belgian fortress of Liege just days earlier and been awarded Germany’s highest honor for his efforts. Col Hoffmann, arguably the best strategist during the entire war, would become chief of operations.

Meanwhile, back in East Prussia, Col Hoffmann convinced Prittwitz that a retreat behind the Vistula River posed great risk because the Eighth Army would be withdrawing across the line of advance of Samsonov’s Second Army. The Eighth Army should either renew the attack on Rennenkampf, or take Hoffmann’s advice and attack Samsonov. Prittwitz accepted Hoffmann’s advice, but then incredibly failed to inform Moltke of these changes of plans! Up to this point, the Germans were running a close race with the Russians in command ineptitude.

On 23 August 1914, Hindenburg and Ludendorff (H-L) arrived at Eighth Army headquarters to find Hoffmann redeploying units to attack Samsonov. H-L quickly approved this plan to covertly redeploy and attack the Russian second Army as it held great promise. Once Samsonov was dispatched, the Eighth Army could then wheel about and deal with the Russian First Army.

For success, the Germans needed hard intelligence and efficient road and rail movements. The Russians obliged by transmitting many important radio messages in the clear or in easily broken codes. Next, German redeployments, though complex, were near perfect. Given the attention paid to tactical and strategic mobility by the German General Staff before the war, these accomplishments of large scale movement were not unexpected.

Francois’ corps, initially on the left of the Eighth Army, entrained at five railroad stations west of Gumbinnen and traveled for two days via a circuitous route through Konigsberg and Marienburg. Following an intricate detrainment, he moved into position on the right flank of the single German corps which had screened the Russian Second Army since it crossed into East Prussia.

The rightmost German corps at Gumbinnen redeployed by another set of trades to become the new German center at Tannenberg. Finally, the two German corps that broke and ran at Gumbinnen forced marched and reorganized en route to become the new Eighth Army left flank. Only a single German cavalry division was left to screen Rennenkampfs quiescent First Army. The road to Berlin was now open, but Rennenkampf wasn’t traveling.

Tannenberg

In just 2 days, which included a forced change in command, the German Eighth Army had boldly redeployed without either Russian army commander being the wiser. Rennenkampf still thought the Germans were abandoning East Prussia. Samsonov thought he was facing a single corps instead of a five-corps army poised to strike a mortal blow. At Russian General Staff Headquarters, Jilinsky compounded the problem by urging Samsonov to move faster (i.e., into the German trap) while ignoring Rennenkampfs lack of movement.

When Samsonov ordered a general advance, his center two corps immediately became heavily engaged. Simultaneously, his right flank was turned by two German corps which promptly proceeded to decimate a Russian corps. (These were the same two corps which suffered defeat and humiliation at Gumbinnen.) Next Francois attacked the Russian left flank with tremendous artillery barrages. Russian soldiers, unfed for days and drained of the will to fight, retreated in the midst of these cannonades with great loss of life. By nightfall of 28 August 1914, H-L’s warriors were on three sides of Samsonov’s troops and poised for the kill. The next morning Francois opened up with another great artillery barrage that shattered the remainder of the Russian left flank. This permitted his corps to block the route of retreat of the entire second Army. In the center, two Russian corps continued to fight well, but their situation deteriorated rapidlycaught in the crushing jaws of an enormous double envelopment.

The German victory at Tannenberg was near total. The Eighth Army took nearly 100,000 prisoners and captured most of the Russian artillery. Enemy dead were greater than 30,000. Survivors of the Russian second Army amounted to less than a brigade.

Masurian Lakes.

With one enemy army destroyed, the victorious Huns turned to deal with another. Over the next week, German forces redeployed to once again confront Rennenkampfs First Army. Two additional German corps arrived from the western front to bolster German forces in East Prussia to seven corps. (One wonders whether the absence of these two corps from the Western Front contributed to the German defeat on the Marne.) The Russians also used this period to reinforce. The lead elements of a new army, the Tenth, began arriving in East Prussia in the Masurian Lakes region on the left flank of the First Army. But the logistics problems that had dogged the Russian First and Second Armies also slowed flip Tenth.

When the German offensive came, only a few regiments of the Tenth Army were actually in position on the First Army’s left flank. It was at this weak left flank over terrain that Rennenkampf thought unsuitable for attack that H-L aimed a powerful force of four corps commanded by Francois. The fast-marching Germans slashed through the poorly organized Tenth Army and raced toward the rear of the Russian First Army in an effort to encircle all Russian forces. Another Tannenburg was looming large.

At this point, Rennenkampf finally came to life. In a series of astute forced marches and effective rearguard actions, the Russian First Army saved itself and crossed back into Russia on 13 September 1914. Though Russian losses were heavy (125,000), another Tannenberg had been averted-but just barely.

Russia’s defeat in East Prussia had a catastrophic effect on that country as evidenced by later political events. The sudden loss of over 300,000 trained men, considerable modern artillery, and many experienced officers and noncommissioned officers was never made up.

For Germany, East Prussia coincided with the defeat on the Marne River in France and with Austro-Hungary’s catastrophic defeat in Galicia. Victory in East Prussia alone permitted Gennan leaders to conceal the true meaning of these defeats-the failure of a short, glorious war and start of a long, bloody conflict of tragic proportions.

Lessons

Much of Germany’s success in East Prussia was due to superb prewar preparations. Though Russia possessed a significant numerical superiority that seemed overwhelming, German superiority in about everything else that mattered more than offset the three-to-one numerical advantage of the Czar’s armies. Clearly, the German Army’s emphasis on strategic and tactical mobility, logistics, firepower, and training in the prewar period resulted in a German force in East Prussia that was flexible and capable enough to execute just about any scheme of maneuver.

But, besides maneuverability, the Germans simply fought smarter than the Russians. German intelligence was superior and the Eighth Army made masterful use of their intelligence at about every point in the campaign. Besides doing mundane things such as building watchtowers across East Prussia and providing bicycles to Gennan farm boys, the German Army also made outstanding use of two revolutionary-for those days-intelligence gathering means: the airplane and electronic signals intelligence.

In what must have been the first large-scale use of tactical airborne reconnaissance, the Eighth Army employed observation aircraft to locate Russian forces. On the other side, the Russians sent all their aircraft to the Austrian Front for some unexplained reason. Had the Russians just one aircraft to spy on the Eighth Army, Tannenberg may never have happened. Of course, if Rennenkampf had used his many cavalry divisions to keep an eye on Eighth Army movements, Tannenberg may still have been avoided. Russian forces in East Prussia disregarded the need for tactical reconnaissance in a most bizarre and egregious way and paid dearly.

Along with tactical airborne reconnaissance, the Germans also made outstanding use of intercepted Russian radio messages, which were conveniently broadcast in the clear or in easily broken codes. Ludendorff personally received these intercepts and issued orders accordingly with little delay. There was an enormous asymmetry between German and Russian forces in the intelligence area which greatly boosted the Huns and blinded the Slavs.

Final Thoughts

World War 1 would seem to be the last place to seek lessons on maneuver warfare and fighting smart. Averaged over 4 years of conflict and millions of lives, World War I is deservedly remembered for being exactly the opposite. But in one sense the East Prussian campaign in August-September 1914 is probably more like future wars of the 21st century-short notice, high intensity, conventional arms conflicts fought close to the borders of warring states by largely untested combatants armed with the latest in high technology weaponry.

In this the eightieth year since the start of World War I, the Marine Corps might well consider the lessons of Tannenberg as the Corps strives to implement a maneuver warfare doctrine and instill a philosophy of fighting smart.

Misunderstanding Synchronization

by Capt David J. Lemelin, USA

An order is a good basis for discussion.

-Anonymous

The current debate in the Marine Corps over the mainly U. S. Army concept of “synchronization” seems to revolve around three fundamental questions:

* Does the means of command and control (C^sup 2^) define maneuver warfare?

* Does synchronizing of an operation fly in the face of FMFM 1 Warfighling?

* Is synchronization “detailed control” in disguise?

The following article will focus on the third question from an Army perspective and discuss the synchronization process as it is intended versus how it is misused and misunderstood in practice.

Clearly, FMFM 1, following B. H. Liddell Hart and Richard E. Simpkin, espouses directive control as the sole means of C^sup 2^ in the Marine Corps view of maneuver warfare. If synchronization as a process is “command by detailed order” in disguise, then it violates the concepts behind FMFM 1 and the second fundamental question is answered. The Army, as the chief practitioner of synchronization, tends to command primarily by detailed order. This practice, however, is not a conscious choice of C^sup 2^ methods, but is the de facto result of misunderstanding the process of synchronization. Army commanders frequently approach synchronization as an end unto itself and not a means to an end. The Army’s personnel system and the resultant incohesiveness of Army units are other contributing factors to the Army’s C^sup 2^ methods.

Synchronization is a tenet of Army operations, something akin to a principle of war. At its simplest, FM 100-5, Operations defines synchronization as “. . . arranging activities in rime and space to mass at the decisive point.” This definition, as even Liddell Hart would agree, is the same as “concentration” as defined by FMFM 1:

. . . the convergence of effort in time and space. It is the means by which we develop superiority at the decisive time and place . . . It applies equally to all available resources.

“Unity of effort” is another term that both the Army and Marine Corps use for this principle. All these terms are focused on the endstate of concentrating superior combat power at the decisive point. The problem, then, is not in the definition of synchronization but in the understanding and practice of synchronization as a process for planning and controlling operations.

Synchronization is an all-inclusive term for the analysis of courses of action as described in the new FM 101-5 and the Ft Leavenworth Student Text 100-9. Through this analysis process, commanders and staffs integrate possible enemy actions and friendly combat multipliers into the proposed course of action. Wargaming and detailed time-space analysis are a part of the overall process. Through this synchronization process the commander and staff visualize the flow of events through end of mission. Results of analysis include task organization for the operation and a basic operations order. Most significantly, the commander identifies within the course of action where alternate plans may be necessary and a concept of those plans. The entire process is designed ultimately for the commander to set the conditions in time, space, and resources to mass at the decisive point.

Maj John F. Schmitt’s, article “Out of Sync with Maneuver Warfare” (MCG, Aug94) equates synchronization with “detailed orders” or “command-push” method of command and control. Maj Schmitt’s obvious distaste for this method of command and control may stem from watching the Army struggle with it for years. Certainly, Maj Schmitt points out the dangers of synchronization when taken to the extreme. Unfortunately, many Army units and commanders do not understand these dangers nor do they understand the relationship, the balancing act, between unity of effort and initiative as described by Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie’s article “They Shoot Synchronizers; Don’t They?” (MCG, Aug94). As Robert R. Leonhard states in his book The Art of Maneuver while discussing both control by detailed order and directive control, “. . . today’s Army praises directive control but practices detailed control.” This is an unquestionably correct assertion. But why is this so? Army doctrine is replete with references to mission orders, directive control, and initiative. Initiative is even a tenet of Army operations:

. . . In battle, initiative requires the decentralization of decision authority to the lowest practical level. At the same time, decentralization risks some loss of synchronization. Commanders constantly balance these compering risks, recognizing that loss of immediate control is preferable to inaction. Decentralization demands well-trained subordinates and superiors who are willing to take risks.

This definition subordinates control to initiative and hints at the balance of unity of effort and initiative. However, the bulk of Army doctrine tells us how to mass effects by synchronizing combat power in rime and space without explaining that this unity of effort is predicated on detailed knowledge of the enemy and especially his weaknesses. In order to find these weaknesses, we must decentralize operations and allow subordinates freedom to operate (and the assets to do so) to find those weaknesses. Army doctrine fails to explain that only then, once we have found LiddellHart’s “gaps,” do we emphasize unity of effort over initiative. So Army leaders are continually faced, if they follow their doctrine, with an apparent dichotomy-how to follow our doctrine, tactics, techniques, and procedures that focus on detailed operations and still issue mission orders. The synchronization process is the means by which we reconcile these seemingly exclusive C^sup 2^ methods.

As stated, the Army does not have a clear understanding of synchronization as a process. Nowhere, in fact, does Army doctrine define this process precisely. All too often, commanders focus on one synchronized plan often reflected in the “synchronization matrix,” as a product, the endstate itself that now only needs to be executed. Commanders and staffs, working against time, will develop a plan and synchronize it to the nth degree based on an unrealistic assessment of the intelligence picture. The catch phrase is always “an 80-percent solution now is better than a 100-percent solution later.” Often, in fact, they only have a 20-percent solution because they have very little confirmed intelligence. The chief factor in deciding where to be on the detailed/directive sliding scale is the clarity of the enemy situation. The more we know, the greater the emphasis on unity of effort. Conversely, the less we know the more latitude and resources we must grant subordinates until the situation clarifies and we can concentrate combat power and thus become more detailed. A good part of the art of command is knowing when to transition between methods.

The synchronization process, when practiced correctly, does support both methods. In fact, as alluded to earlier, detailed and directive control are not separate methods at all, but rather should be addressed as either end of a sliding scale. Through the synchronization/courses of action analysis process, commanders and staffs should determine where on that sliding scale to begin the operation and when to shift. This analysis assists in visualizing possible enemy actions and our responses to those actions. It helps the commander determine how to organize for battle. Does he put more assets under his control to maximize unity of effort or give more to subordinates until the situation develops? Do we use zones of attack and allow maximum freedom to subordinates or axes and battle positions to mass combat power? Do we need to mass multiple subordinate units? Most importantly, this process helps the commander take his current plan with a greater or lesser degree of control and determine where the gaps are in intelligence and where alternate plans are necessary and, as much as possible, develop those plans.

In its purpose as a process, synchronization/analysis embodies the great Von Moltke’s assertion that, “Plans are nothing. Planning is everything.” The problem, then, in the Army is not synchronization as a conceptual process, but rather in the failure of commanders to understand the process. Worse, and all too common, is that this misunderstanding leads commanders to become fixated with one synchronized plan the execution of which is everything regardless of whether or not the enemy cooperates. When this plan, goes awry, commanders have not thought through their possible actions and so, essentially begin guessing.

Army doctrine is relatively muddled when it conies to defining methods of C^sup 2^ let alone when and how to shift up and down the scale between directive and detailed control. Certainly, FM 100-5 does not lay the foundation for maneuver warfare as an overriding doctrine as does FMFM 1. However, Army doctrine is uniform in its emphasis on the preeminence of the commanders intent in all operations. This intent is further broken down into the purpose of the operation, the method, and the endstate. Of these, purpose and endstate are the most critical. Method is deliberately secondary, acknowledging the fact that the planned method will change with the circumstances. Purpose and endstate are related and paramount. Purpose is the “why” of the operation and gives subordinate leaders the reason for the tasks they are to perform. Endstate is the minimum standard that must be achieved if, as one officer put it, “the plan goes all to hell.” Combined, purpose and endstate provide subordinate leaders the framework within which to operate and make decisions when the situation changes or opportunities arise. Even the most detailed order based on complete knowledge of the enemy will contain purpose and endstate to assist subordinates in dealing with the inevitable unpredicted events on the battlefield. This concept of commander’s intent is also misunderstood in practice. Too many Army commanders’ intents are simply “photos” of the end or culmination of one particular plan as it would look if carried out completely. One fully synchronized plan, coupled with a poor commander’s intent leads to the disastrous pitfalls Maj Schniitt depicts in his article. On the other hand, a commander equipped with a well-analyzed plan, synchronized to the level our knowledge of the enemy allows and a well understood endstate and purpose can shift his C^sup 2^ method as appropriate between the need for unity of effort and the need for subordinate initiative as the situation develops. All the while, subordinate leaders have the commander’s intent as a guide and framework within which to make decisions when the situation demands.

The second and possibly most significant reason the Army practices detailed control is the result of its archaic and frequently counterproductive personnel system. This system that replaces soldiers individually, leaves units incohesive and combat teams not solidified. The one facet of directive control that all sources including Army and Marine doctrine agree on and emphasize is the cohesion required at all levels to execute directive control. Well-trained individuals are a prerequisite for directive control, but individual training alone is insufficient. Combat units must train and work together for considerable periods. As Simpkin says in Race to the Swift, “. . . the root of directive control lies in the sharing of ideas and interpretations by minds well attuned to one another.” The Army can rarely achieve this level of cohesion under its current personnel system. Commanders and subordinates are changing so rapidly that real trust, laterally and vertically, does not develop. Hence, commanders fall back on detailed orders to assure themselves that their subordinates will take appropriate actions.

If commanders analyze their situation properly and synchronize to the appropriate degree, then their maneuver-based operations will be enhanced. Further, the commander will be able to adjust the level of control throughout the operation based on a thorough understanding of what he knows and more importantly, what he does not know. As Sun Tzu tells us:

Act always according to the changes in the natural course of things. Nothing stays the same and you must never, therefore, stick to a single course of action. Be aware of how the situation is altering and transform your behavior to conform to the new circumstances.

Conversely, if a commander is fixated on the synchronized plan, he will not be able to adjust to the changing conditions on the battlefield, the domain of the uncertain.

The Army is struggling with the concept of maneuver warfare, the business of achieving both positional and psychological advantage before closing with the enemy. These simple yet essential ideas are working their way into tactical schools and doctrine. Given its existing tactical decisionmaking process and its continuing struggle against its own personnel system, the Army will continue to use the entire directive and detailed control sliding-scale. The challenge will be to analyze each situation properly and understand when to adjust up and down that scale. Maj McKenzie and Robert Leonhard make good cases for both styles of C^sup 2^ in maneuver warfare. Their position is, as is the Army’s tacitly, that operations be defined by the endstate not by the C^sup 2^ methods.

The original issue, however, was whether or not synchronization was compatible with Marine Corps doctrine. As we have shown, if the Army’s style of synchronization is misunderstood by practitioners and by analysts then it is detailed control ad nausea and clearly violates the precepts of FMFM 1, Warfighting. If the synchronization process is practiced correctly, it assists the commander in adjusting his level of control as appropriate. The Army must increase its leaders’ understanding of the range of C^sup 2^ methods and steer away from its continued fixation with detailed orders. The Marines may benefit from a reassessment of their focus on directive control as an absolute. Both Services, however, must continue to train units and leaders together in the application of directive control because that end of the scale requires the most training and teamwork.

Leadership Principles for Warfighters

by 1stLt Scott E. Camden

. . . it should be clear that maneuver warfare exists not so much in the specific methods used-we eschew formulas-but in the mind of the Marine. In this regard, maneuver warfare-like combined arms-applies equally to the Marine expeditionary force commander and the fire team leader.

FMFM-1

The Marine Corps doctrine of warfighting, laid out in FMFM 1, continues to generate numerous interpretations regarding its specifics, i.e., “commander’s intent,” “tempo,” and “decentralized command.” However, all these become merely professional academic debates if the proper command relationships between commanders and junior leaders, which are so essential for warfighting to flourish, are not established. FMFM 1 is not a replacement of tactical fundamentals and techniques, as perceived by many senior Marines, but is rather a mindset, or as described in FMFM 1, “. . . a way of thinking in and about war that should shape our every action.” It is a philosophy of command and leadership that provokes, even demands, critical analysis of present techniques and strives for everhigher levels of proficiency.

This mindset, or shared way of thinking, is required both of the commander and the commanded. Trust tactics between commanders and junior leaders can never begin to take hold and flourish if we only pay lipservice to FMFM 1 buzzwords and phrases, and don’t make a sincere effort to implement its principles on a daily basis. Maneuver warfare, represents a radical departure from the Corps’ past ways of conducting battle. With decentralized decisionmaking, the size of a unit becomes secondary, and the internal relationships between leaders and junior leaders-the Marine expeditionary force commander and the fire team leader-take precedence. New emphasis is placed on the individual Marine and his ability to be a “thinking warrior,” making every Marine a leader in some capacity. The way we lead this new breed of warfighters also needs radical revamping to bring our leadership into line with the spirit of FMFM 1. This essay addresses the issue of leadership within the doctrine of warfighting, and the relationship between commanders and junior leaders.

The commander’s authority is derived from rank, but his command atmosphere results from attitude. While there are no checklists that can ensure an effective command relationship between leaders and subordinates, there are certain character traits and leadership principles that are useful in creating a positive command environment.

First, before a commander can have confidence in his subordinates he must have confidence in himself. He must be man enough, both emotionally and psychologically, to realize that he cannot be the “duty expert” in every matter relating to his command, and he must possess the strength of character to utilize those junior leaders who are. Can every officer hold every company- and battalion-level billet? No. Therefore it follows that no one man can have all the answers for every situation that arises at those levels. Soliciting counsel from junior leaders and acting on it must not be misconstrued as a sign of weakness, rather it is a sound leadership practice that can drastically improve the efficiency of a unit.

Second, he must not be afraid to experiment with unorthodox methods and techniques during training. In the structured environment of the Marine Corps, the courage to break with the accepted norm is a rare trait indeed, but warfighting demands innovation to keep tactics and techniques pertinent to reality instead of checklists. Company- and battalion-level commanders must accept that most techniques of leadership and tactics taught at The Basic School in the seventies or even the eighties are not being taught there now. History has rendered harsh judgment on those militaries unable to cope with changes in weaponry and technology by creatively implementing changes in their tactics and techniques. In reality, after-action debriefs are debates about how to save more lives. The effective warfighting commander must demand honest and open debate from his junior leaders at every debrief, and sycophancy must be dealt with harshly. Healthy critical analysis, no matter how unflattering to the commander, does not equal insubordination or lack of respect.

Third, clear standards and guidance must be established, followed by the true empowerment of junior leaders so that they are able to act within those standards without second guessing from above. Training should not be limited to field problems conducted far away from the judging eyes of one’s higher commander. Only by giving junior leaders real power to make decisions at all times, including in garrison or during a “high visibility” situation, can a commander instill a strong sense of responsibility and the implicit understanding among his junior leaders that will allow them to make the appropriate decisions in his absence.

Finally, a commander must be decisive. The willingness to accept risk, as an unavoidable part of every decision, is paramount in the warfighting commander. Nothing represses the development of an effective command and saps initiative and morale more from subordinates than indecisiveness and second guessing. Once the courses of action are debated and the order given, every commander expects the full support of his subordinates. This attitude must prevail when the roles are reversed.

As previously stated, responsibilities flow both ways under warfighting doctrine. Junior leaders also must possess certain personal traits:

First, a successful junior leader must possess, as the foundation of his character, a strong sense of rugged individualism and self-reliance. This is the willingness of the junior leader to accept responsibility for his actions and what is more important, those of his Marines. Just as he is expected to offer healthy critical analysis during debriefs, he must constantly engage in a candid analysis of his own strengths and weaknesses and those of his unit and act on the results to develop improvements.

Second, is a base of solid and mature judgment. This is an essential ingredient in the decentralized decisionmaking environment created by true warfighters. Through training and constant development, judgment can be honed and molded to closely resemble that of the commander’s. Junior leaders must always be conscious of the potential weight their decisions hold. They must be developed by their superior to distinguish the often blurry differences between bold action and reckless behavior.

Finally, the subordinate must have initiative. The ability of subordinates to “self start” themselves is the cornerstone of any successful warfighting command structure. Many senior officers would find themselves quite surprised to find the great things accomplished within their commands by merely allowing someone to take the ball and run; the essence of trust tactics. Without initiative, and the willingness of a command to exercise it, the doctrine of warfighring will never get off the ground.

In conclusion, there are no checklists, formulas, or charts to clearly illustrate what constitutes successful warfighting leaders and subordinates. There are as many styles of leadership in the Marine Corps as there are people, and each individual must choose what fits him best. However, the basic traits and principles outlined above are a good reference point when evaluating the conditions that exist within a command, and should be encouraged and developed to the fullest extent possible. What is more important, commanders and their junior leaders must realize and accept that they each bear specific responsibilities to one another, and that carrying them out on a daily basis is the only way for the principles of warfighting to take root and grow within their unit.

Synchronization and the Corps

by Capt Mark D Johnson

In recent issues a debate between two schools of thought on warfare has been ongoing. One school of thought as advocated by Maj John E. Schmitt, USMCR, is the theory of maneuver warfare, which all Marines are well versed in. The other school as advocated by Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie is the theory of synchronization, which most Marines are not familiar with. Having recently graduated from the Field Artillery Officers Advanced Course at Fort Sill, OK, where we were inundated with the “Army” way of planning, i.e., synchronization, I would like to add to the discussion by providing one company grade officer’s viewpoint. I believe that the integration of the synchronization process along with the concept of maneuver warfare will prove invaluable to the Marine Corps in future operations.

First, in its purest and most doctrinally correct form, the synchronization process is very time consuming and manpower intensive and thus very rigid. Maj Schmitt in his article “Out of Sync with Maneuver Warfare” (MCG, Aug94) mentioned this as one of the flaws of synchronization. He provides wire diagrams as examples of the theory’s rigidity. Furthermore, he concludes that this rigidity is not advantageous to the Marine Corps‘ concept of warfighting. This is a valid argument, but the rigidity that is applied in his examples is unrealistic. I submit that no American force would ever “lock” itself into such a narrow, fixed process outlined by Maj Schmitt. He gave us synchronization in its purest-most exaggerated-form. He further leads us to believe that synchronization is the determining factor in operation order preparation, that it is an end in itself. Simply put, that is not what synchronization is advertised or designed to do. What it can do is provide the best picture of the future battle as deduced by the staff. In reference to the resource problem-to time and manpower-the process can be modified if the situation warrants a more expeditious result, as normally is the case in rapid planning process which the Marine Corps embraces. By extracting pieces of the process that meet this goal, an acceptable end product can be reached, one that aids both planners and executors.

Second, if we accept that synchronization does not mean that the plan is inflexible and unchangeable, then we can also conclude that it does not require “central control” as Maj Schmitt believes. A well-synchronized plan provides the maneuver commander with a great tool to use in battle. This process provides the subordinate commanders with a base of support to help him in accomplishing the mission. Col Michael D. Wyly, USMC(Ret), in his article “Reestablishing What?” (MCG, Aug94) provides examples of his experiences of synchronization in Vietnam. He states that “synchronization consistently failed to optimize efforts because the enemy acted unpredictably and was seldom in preplanned target areas.” I would agree that if an enemy’s actions were unpredictable then synchronization is difficult. To add a side note to his comment, if a staff used synchronization to determine preplanned target engagements, disregarding targeted areas of interest or target acquisition feedback, then the process would most definitely fail. This does not mean that the process itself is flawed. It suggests that the staff did not understand how to use the process to optimized the results. Being able to predict the enemy’s every movement is not a prerequisite for synchronization. Knowing something about enemy capabilities and tendencies is required regardless of the process used, be it synchronization of maneuver warfare.

Third, with the preponderance of todays’s operations conducted in the joint or combined arena, the requirement for fully synchronizing Marine Corps assets, as well as those of other Services, could not be greater. This was evident in DESERT SHIELD and DESERT STORM, as well as in RESTORE HOPE in Somalia. It is imperative that the Marine Corps understand the theory of synchronization when working in the joint arena. I am not suggesting that we are obligated to adopt this process; but if we expect to benefit from its products, we must know how to “tap” into the system. Two examples will help to illustrate this point. One scenario is when the Marine Corps is the senior command. The subordinate elements of other Services expect information derived from the synchronization process and by virtue of the Corps‘ position it would have the responsibility to provide the requested information. The second scenario is when the Marine Corps is subordinate to another Service. In order to benefit from the results achieved through synchronization the Marine Corps needs to know how to extract the derived information or in some situations how to incorporate resources into the system to derive information that may be of particular importance to the Marine Corps.

An example will help illustrate the value of synchronization in the Marine Corps. A battalion receives a mission. The higher headquarters, which initiates the order, determines an initial plan for the support of that battalion. The battalion conducts initial planning after receiving the warning order. Simultaneously, the higher headquarters should be conducting synchronization. The staff, through the analysis of battlefield activities (what the Army calls operating systems), considers all activities and agencies throughout the area of operation, both friendly and foe. A “package” of support is determined and provided, dictated through the operation order, identifying the needed external support, i.e., artillery, air logistics, etc. The staff takes the process a step further by considering not only “what” is needed but “how” to position it if it is to be available when required. This is a very important step for the battalion as well as for the support agencies. For example, the reaction times for the various fire support assets are very diverse and require a great amount of planning and coordination in order to tie them together. Synchronization aids this process by providing the staff with a means of allocating these scarce resources to support the maneuverist’s plan, taking all the battlefield parts and making them into “a whole.” Without this process of ensuring that these assets are mutually supporting in time and space, the maneuverist could not operate as freely as his initiative desires. Although to a pure maneuverist support should come when requested, it is unrealistic to expect or assume that support can be automatic or always available without planning, preparation, or coordination with other commitments. In this instance the higher headquarters has considered all of the “moving parts” and therefore facilitated the executor’s mission not impeded it.

Some would argue that this is only coordination and planning, and I would agree; however, there is more to this process when the planning begins at the regimental level or above. These are the levels for which synchronization is designed. In synchronizing the battlefield, the staff evaluates both the enemy and friendly situations. The enemy’s disposition and possible courses of action (COA) are determined through intelligence preparation of the battlefield. The friendly disposition and COAs are determined through senior command orders and by analyzing the force composition. The staff then takes this information and conducts wargaming, using a synchronization matrix, in order to try and reduce the “fog of battle,” not eliminate it. Furthermore, the staff has not dictated to the subordinate commander the “how to fight,” only provided the means to do so. This is in direct opposition to Maj Schmitt’s opinion that synchronization leads to the stifling of initiative and a requirement for “centralized, detailed control.”

In conclusion, although the term synchronization, when taken in its purist context implies excessive planning by Marine Corps standards, we should not disallow it as a tool for staff planning at regimental levels and above. These level’s possess both the manpower and “braintrust” to make the synchronization process work and, more important, the common sense to allow the recipients of this information to use it as they see fit through their own initiative. Maj Schmitt’s closing comment regarding the relationship, or disrelationship, as he believes, between maneuver warfare and synchronization is incorrect. These two theories can be mutually supporting if used with proper discretion. I submit that through synchronization Marines who find themselves “close to the front” will be able to fight the battle without having to worry about the myriad external actions that the major command staffs are capable of controlling and monitoring.

The Missing Link: Company Fire Support Coordinator

by Capt Stephen M. Sullivan

As the reinforced company rolls towards its final coordination line, the company commander observes his final preparation fires. He notices that heavy automatic weapons fire is coming from a bunker several hundred meters west of his objective. As he decides to orchestrate his fire support assets, he becomes immersed in instructing his fonvard air controller on how he wants to use the close air support on this “pop up” target on grid 903678 at 0205, coordinating the artillery forward observer to mark the target with illumination on the deck on grid 903678 at 0204:30 and instructing the naval gunfire forward observer that he needs to call for additional prep fires on the objective at 903678 from 0204 to 0209. Additionally, he tells the 81mm mortars forward observer to be prepared to call in support to suppress potential enemy air defenses. After several minutes of supervising the intricacies of initial points, run-in headings, and timing, he gives the bunker target and the objective another look. A knot forms in his stomach as he sees one of his assault amphibious vehicles (AAVs) rolling dangerously dose to the intended bunker target and realizes that fratricide is a very real possibility. The unfolding of battlefield events and the momentum of his maneuver elements have gotten away from the company commander as he was preoccupied with syndironizing his fire support.

Several years after the Marine Corps adopted maneuver warfare as its doctrine, there remains a problem at the company level worthy of our professional attention. Maneuver warfare hinges on our ability to employ combined arms rapidly and effectively. Moreover, our doctrine allows for the lowest element leaders to make the appropriate battle decisions in order to achieve greater tempo. However, our present policy towards fire support coordination at the lowest level is flawed. Present Marine Corps policy in Operational Handbook (OH) 6-2A states:

Assisted by his artillery forward observer, mortar forward observer, forward air controller, and naval gunfire spotter, a company commander can perform the fire support planning and coordination necessary at the company level.

Although necessity can prove this true, it is at best inefficient. The growing demands for integrating fire support with maneuver warfare threaten to present the company commander with a workload that diverts his focus of energies away from driving tempo and could make him a victim of tactical events rather than the initiator. A designated fire support coordinator (FSC) at the company level would correct a vital flaw in our present policy. A company FSC is needed to assist the company commander in his conduct of offensive operadons, defensive operations, and fire support training requirements.

Some may argue that because it is the company commander’s responsibility to integrate fire support assets into his fight, a company FSC is unnecessary. Delegating authority dees not mean that responsibility is abdicated. Moreover, delegating authority does not connote that authority is lost. Marine Corps doctrine in Fleet Marine Force Manual 2-7 (FMFM 2-7) states that the commander is “responsible for all that happens or fails to happen within his command. This is especially true regarding the planning and coordination of fire support.” Marine Corps doctrine also provides commanders at every echelon above company with a FSC who is delegated the necessary authority to assist the commander in fire support planning and coordination. His dudes as described in OH 6-2A are “to integrate fire support effectively into battle plans to optimize combat power.” Individuals opposed to designating a company FSC should understand that this assignment would not change the company commander’s responsibility or authority. The company commander would still have to train his FSC to ensure a high degree of implicit communication and a clear understanding of commander’s intent in order to integrate him as a valuable asset. The Marine Corps’ compliance with maneuver warfare principles combined with continuously growing technology has resulted in increasing demands for the company commander regarding fire support. Maj Brian D. Catlin, of the Marine Corps’ Tactical Exercise Evaluation Control Group in 1992, explained why it has become necessary to provide a company FSC in these terms:

The company FSC was simply not necessary historically because the tempo of operations did not detract from the company commander’s ability to integrate his supporting arms, however, the Marine Corps’ increased use of battlefield mobility combined with the growing variety of fire support assets continues to make his job more demanding than ever.

The first area in which a company FSC would provide the commander with badly needed assistance is offensive operations. Although a company FSC should be collocated with the company commander whenever possible, maneuver warfare doctrine in FMFM 1 states that. “A commander should command from well forward . . . this allows him to see and sense firsthand the ebb and flow of combat.” Additionally, it recognizes the advantages of recon pull through enemy gaps to maintain momentum and initiative. However, the commander traveling well forward causes substantial problems: Accompanied by the fire support group, the commander creates an obvious signature problem. Moving for survivability in a forward area, puts fire support personnel at a distinct disadvantage in seeing the battlefield and performing their functions effectively.

A current example in handling this problem is illustrated in light armored reconnaissance’s use of the company executive officer’s vehicle as the company fire support coordination asset rather than the company commander’s vehicle. Another example is the technique of placing the FSC in the support position of a raid. This puts the FSC in the most advantageous position to control fire support while the company commander remains with the assault element of a raid in order to oversee the main effort.

Maneuver warfare has generated a greater demand for rapid planning in the offense. Battalion commanders continue to give an increasing number of fragmentary orders to their company commanders. The company FSC could attend operation order briefings with his company commander and use the occasion to accomplish essential coordination. The Army’s fire support team concept makes use of this technique. While the battalion commander gives guidance to his company commanders, the battalion FSC briefs the company FSCs on the battalion’s fire support plan.

Defensive operations is the second area where the assignment of a company FSC would provide needed assistance to the company commander. Maneuver warfare advocates that we remain on the offense whenever possible. Marines normally assume a defensive posture in order to rearm, resupply, and prepare for subsequent offensive operations. Company commanders must be prepared to submit their defensive plan to the battalion and receive the next offensive order shortly after assuming the defense. In the short span of time prior to reporting to the battalion, myriad tasks must be accomplished. One possible solution is to have the weapons platoon commander act as a company FSC and develop supporting arms targets, supporting arms final protective fires, and preplanned targets for the company’s local security patrols. Each plan is prepared on its appropriate overlay for approval by the company commander and submission to the battalion FSC. Meanwhile, the company commander is able to focus on supervising priorities of work, walking the lines, compositing fire plan sketches, and issuing security patrol warning orders. Experience has shown that the delegation of fire support planning and targeting to the weapons platoon commander, acting as a company FSC, can be an extremely valuable asset to a company commander in defensive operations.

The final area in which the designation of a company FSC would provide the company commander much needed assistance is fire support training. Maneuver warfare doctrine encourages using better technology whenever possible to increase combat effectiveness. Today’s company commander possesses more assets and potential to employ combined arms in maneuver warfare than ever before. In order to stay abreast of fire support’s maximum potential and our continuously developing procedures, an individual must be fully committed to this vital role.

Assigning a company FSC would give the battalion FSC a better asset for training companies in standing operating procedures and new techniques. His assignment would produce a direct company point of contact focused on fire support concerns. The weapons platoon commander is a logical choice for this job because each separate weapons system section in weapons platoon is assigned a dedicated “section leader” by the table of organization. Providing the company commander with an FSC would improve the unit’s proficiency and ability to remain current in fire support techniques.

Our stunning success in DESERT STORM and the Marine Corps’ use of maneuver warfare and combined arms will continue. Maneuver warfare doctrine calls on us to exploit all advantages possible in order to increase our tempo of operations and maintain the initiative. Some may question how a company commander could delegate a tremendously important duty like fire support coordination. It’s simple. He can’t afford not to. It’s time dial the Marine Corps acknowledges that we could improve our combat efficiency by providing a company FSC.

They Shoot Synchronizers, Don’t They?

by Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie, Jr.

The preceding articles that critique my “Fighting in the Real World” (MCG, Mar94) are intelligent and well written, making it easy to rapidly sum up what their authors like about my ideas on synchronization: nothing. Nevertheless, I am grateful to the authors for responding to my article and for sharing their responses with me so I could offer these comments.

In debating complex subjects, it’s often best to attempt to find some common ground, however slight, that provides a mutual frame of reference-to recognize that the world isn’t black and white, but often shades of gray. The hard-line “maneuverists” reject even the possibility of this and instead choose to craft their criticism in an “either-or” framework that accentuates extreme positions. Their criticisms are very useful, and many of them should give us pause, but we do not need to make the choice they demand: rejection of synchronization in all its forms and acceptance, without deviation, of a hard-line maneuverist view of the world. Their reasoning is elegant, but it is based on a false premise: that the use of a tool is equivalent to the abuse of a tool. This false dilemma, coupled with a refusal to recognize a middle ground in this argument, makes it hard to view their arguments as more than interesting but intellectually incomplete ideas. Their thinking certainly answers part of the puzzle, but standing alone it is not the key.

Rather than engage in a protracted struggle over definitions and who said what, I reaffirm that “Fighting in the Real World” seeks to lay out clearly what I think synchronization is, what it means to the Marine Corps, and how it supports our warfighting doctrine of maneuver warfare. Despite the articles in rebuttal, I still think it accomplishes these three objectives. To move the debate forward, my plan is to address in this article four areas of reasonable disagreement that will benefit from further discussion. These are centralization, the box, the either-German-or-Soviet comparison, and the “so what?” test.

CENTRALIZATION

Does the reaffirmation of the command element (CE) as the principal planner and warfighter in the Marine airground task force (MAGTF) create an unwarranted and unneeded degree of centralization that will destroy the bottom-up flow of opportunities so vital to maneuver warfare? As a corollary, does synchronization automatically equate to overcentralization? I don’t think so, and for these reasons:

It is a matter of fact-not an assertion and not an opinion-that today the MAGTF CE is the nexus of command within all MAGTFs from Marine expeditionary units (MEUs) to Marine expeditionary forces (MEFs). It may or may not be in accordance with maneuver warfare holy writ, but it is undeniably reflected in the way our MAGTFs are organized, deploy, and fight. The ground combat element (GCE), aviation combat element (ACE), and combat service support element (CSSE) do not fight independent battles. They participate in a single MAGTF battle, and that battle is commanded by the MAGTF CE.

This is the headquarters that pushes down opportunities for initiative and decisionmaking to the lowest possible level, while maintaining an overall concept-a direction-of the campaign. Doing this does not remove opportunities or the requirement for initiative and decentralized decisionmaking from the GCE, ACE, and CSSE, but it does reflect the unique capabilities of a force that must fight simultaneously in vastly different operational and functional regimes. We teach this in our schools, it is reinforced by the efforts of the Marine Corps Combat Development Command’s MAGTF StaffTraining Program, and is, in short, the way business is done today. Formal doctrinal publications nearing completion, such as FMFM 2, The Marine Air-Ground Task Force, and FMFM 2-1, MEF Operations, will reflect this outlook.

Interestingly, this signals a return to the original view of MAGTF doctrine. Over the course of several decades, the GCE had assumed de facto primacy within the MAGTF. Other elementsthe ACE and CSSE-simply supported the GCE’s courses of action. The MAGTF command element served as a facilitator and provider of assets, but it too was clearly in the slipstream of the GCE. This changed with the Gulf War, as the inadequacies of a GCE-centered command system became obvious amidst the joint warfighting structure within U.S. Central Command. The MAGTF CE reasserted itself, actively planning and executing combat operations and tasking all elements of the MAGTF-ground, air, and logistics-in pursuit of campaign objectives.

The primacy of the MAGTF CE is essential on a three-dimensional battlefield within which combat actions may spread across hundreds of kilometers in depth and height and require the realtime, simultaneous integration of intelligence, fires, maneuver, logistics, and other battlefield activities. The CE’s planning of an extended battle need not restrict the scope of subordinate headquarters to plan and execute operations, but it does require they understand and work within the three-dimensional nature of the MAGTF battlefield in support of MAGTF objectives.

All headquarters, indeed all leaders, synchronize-from the fire team leader who balances resupply of ammo and water within his squad’s attack, all the way to the MAGTF CE, where extended battlefield activities are synchronized. It is neither useful nor accurate to consciously decouple “fighters” (read: good guys) from “headquarters” (read: Colonel Blimps). While there are successive headquarters echelons in the MAGTF, it doesn’t follow that as a matter of course they must all be progressively out of touch with reality or that they are all populated with officers who are predisposed to meddle with subordinates’ plans, stifling agility and initiative.

There is no “master” synchronization matrix upon which all elements of the MAGTF down to the lowest level are laboriously plotted, maintained by a single commander who tries to be allknowing and all-seeing. Instead, there are a series of hierarchical efforts, as each commander synchronizes his activities within the MAGTF and adjusts to his unique situation, all operating with a “general framework of order.” Every level of command integrates its activities in time, space, and purpose. The level and detail of synchronization may vary greatly from echelon to echelon, based on the situation and personalities. The MAGTF CE is going to be thinking about things that do not concern a company commander, just as the latter’s focus excludes the minutiae of the fire team leader’s world.

The Role of Doctrine

MAGTF doctrine is unique; no other force attempts to closely integrate fixed- and rotary-wing aviation, ground, and logistics operations at the tactical level under a single commander. The challenge becomes even greater when it incorporates movement between land and sea or extended seabasing in a littoral battlespace.

FMFM 1 remains a guide, not constitutional law. Its failure to address all concepts of employment of the MAGTF doesn’t mean that such concepts are sec ondary, or that the Marine Corps must either mark time, awaiting new tablets from on high, or that we must feverishly search for supporting verbiage from FMFM 1 for any new idea. As Gen A. M. Gray wrote in its foreword, “it provides broad guidance,” but “requires judgment in application.” It is a useful guide for thinking about warfare, but to hold to it unthinkingly will turn good ideas into dogma. As warfare evolves, we may well end up very far away from the teachings in today’s keynote doctrinal publication.

The Maneuverist Critique

Criticisms of synchronization provide an interesting window into the purist view of maneuver theory. It is unrelentingly based on a small-scale ground combat model. While this model is excellent as far as it goes, and is extremely useful in thinking about small-scale ground combat operations, it does not provide complete conceptual guidance for the diversity of activities that a MAGTF, fighting in all dimensions, will have to perform.

Maintaining air superiority, conducting strike operations or air interdiction; controlling aircraft and missiles; building up a maritime prepositioning force lodgment; coordinating deep, close, and rear combat operations; and, last, plugging into, and perhaps commanding, a joint theater infrastructure all require some level of anticipatory top-down planning by headquarters at different levels. The joint world within which we must function is a world that synchronizes. As the 9 May 94 final coordinating draft of Joint Publication 0-2, Unified Action Armed Forces states: “Combatant commanders should ensure that their joint operations are synchronized in time, space, and purpose …”

Operations incorporating air, ground, and logistics elements moving at widely differing rates over long distances can’t be driven exclusively from the bottom up by subordinates on the spot, armed only with the commander’s broad intent. Some degree of anticipation, based on probabilities is needed, if you want Class V to get to the shooters, if you want tankers at the air refueling control points, and if you want close air support when needed by the GCE. Such things cannot be left to uncoordinated initiative.

Our Amphibious Nature

Perhaps most important, the maneuver school does not fully address the careful synchronization that is fundamental to amphibious operations, We are, and will remain, an amphibious organization. A MEU(SOC) playbook or a landing plan at any level reflects the careful coordination that is critical, not optional, if intent is to become reality. While it is easy to sneer at “the plan,” it is dangerous to attempt operations of this nature without careful planning (and synchronization), even though these sacrifice some element of spontaneity in order to gain unity of effort.

One thing remains certain: The issue of centralization and the role of the MAGTF CE is too complex to be falsely constrained by the straightjacket of “either-or” reasoning demanding an “all-ornothing” solution. Yet those who argue exclusively from an extreme maneuvertheory perspective do precisely that. We should not ask too much of any single model of conflict, or everything of maneuver warfare. To paraphrase the historian Paul Johnson, maneuverists must learn to differentiate between varying decrees of centralization.

THE BOX

When using synchronization to plan, are we drawing a box that inherently subverts the reality of the battlefield? Yes. Any representation of reality is going to be inaccurate to some degree, and will grow more inaccurate over time, unless continually updated and refined. This is true of any planning methodology. Certainly, any plan that is large enough to encompass all possible alternatives is too large and amorphous to be of practical value. Does this mean we shouldn’t plan? Of course not. The plan doesn’t have to be perfect, only good enough to implement action that is relatively better than our enemy’s.

Synchronization does not mean lockstep overcontrol or a rigid formula of execution. In the Marine Corps Command and Staff College’s Commander and His Staff Planning Guide for Academic Year 93-94, the following cautionary guidance is provided about the use of synchronization matrices:

Never become a slave to the process. With the matrix, it is very easy to allow style-or form-to dictate substance . . . The matrix is merely a tool . . . Do not hesitate to change what is in the matrix if it suits your purpose to do so . . . the matrix can not think, it can not compare, it can not differentiate. It will not substitute for honest analysis and hard work . . . Modify, experiment, and change ruthlessly. It is your tool-don’t let the matrix technique circumscribe your thoughts.

This is hardly a closeminded deification of the planning process; in fact, this seems to be a very moderate, openminded attempt to achieve balance in the use of a tool. Matrices can be useful tools, but only as a means to an end; they are not central to the process. Only the maneuverists argue that the matrix “is the very thing the whole process (synchronization) is working toward.” To be sure, it is useful to argue this, if you are bent on attacking synchronization, but this is an attack on their own rhetorical construct. The draconian, rigid synchronization they use as an example is not the way synchronization is being taught within the Marine Corps.

Occasional abuse is inevitable, and may lead to slowness in execution, but the threat of this is probably no greater than the danger of abuse by intemperate misapplication of the principles of maneuver warfare, which may result in shoddy, uncoordinated planning and execution. Both dangers are disastrous, and both must be avoided. The reasonable course is in the middle, as the Command and Staff College manual clearly attempts to capture.

A commander continually balances what he knows of his own situation and capabilities against what he knows of the enemy. His mission must be at the point of balance; it is what he must accomplish. In his own mind he creates a model of future friendly action that will animate his forces in time, space, and purpose. Innately qualitative, it may be long term and extremely complex, or it may last only minutes and be very simple. It will certainly change, perhaps unrecognizably. The commander must also balance quantitative constraints as part of his plan: fuel, ammunition, ranges of weapons systems, closure times, and a myriad of other measurable data. At the MAGTF level, the commander considers the unique demands of air, land, and sea warfare. He shapes the deep battle, which requires the synchronization of fires; and in designating the main effort, he must prioritize sustainment.

He must also think carefully about what the enemy may do. In doing this, the commander cannot assume from the beginning that the enemy will act irrationally every time, otherwise he will be forced to tell his Marines-“look, we’ve got a crazy bedlamite foe out there; anything can happen! Don’t plan for anything, it’s too time intensive. Just use your initiative.” If we accept this bizarre view, we will fight an exciting, ammunition-intensive, high casualty battle.

Obviously, this nihilistic line of thought is not particularly useful. In thinking about the enemy, we certainly want to look at the terrain, avenues of approach, his doctrine, where he might be, and what he might do. Quantitative information is part of intelligence preparation of the battlefield, whether we call it that or something that is less offensive to maneuverists.

The commander will also have to begin to make informed decisions about what the enemy is likely to do: a qualitative process. This is an inevitable narrowing, as commanders match insufficient assets against possibilities and probabilities. To be prepared for everything is to be prepared for nothing. Time retains certain immutable physical properties, not the least of which is its linear nature, and no foe will retain all options forever. If this means that intelligence officers must work hard and make constantly tested predictions upon which the commander will base friendly actions, then so be it. This does not mean that commanders are locked into the “PERT Chart from Hell” that mechanically predicts what our foe should be doing.

The commander’s plan must be constantly updated or replaced, as some, but never all, probabilistic assumptions and possibilities are replaced by facts, which, of course, may then be replaced yet again. He seeks relative advantage over the enemy, not perfection-there will always be an element of uncertainty. The plan may be highly detailed, as in an amphibious operation, or it may use the lowest level of synchronization: the designation of a main effort. William S. Lind, writing in Maneuver Warfare: An Anthology, has provided a very accurate description of what a commander does in planning and synchronizing:

… he determines what action he thinks will be decisive, then ruthlessly focuses combat power to be stronger than the enemy in that action … He often takes major risks elsewhere . . .

The techniques and procedures used to concentrate, to focus, combat power in time and space are the tools of synchronization. Obviously, this requires constructing a plan-or box for the future.

The degree of control the commander will exercise over his subordinates in achieving this focus depends on the nature of the situation and the personalities of the individuals involved. Operations of heavy forces conducting a penetration attack within restricted maneuver space will have to be more carefully synchronized than the same forces operating in an exploitation or pursuit, in open terrain. Because of this, the approach to command and control adopted by the commander, whether directive or detailed, may very well change over the course of an operation.

As Robert Leonhard argues in The Art of Maneuver, both detailed and directive control have advantages and disadvantages. Both are useful, and both have applicability. The tension between directive and detailed control equates to the dynamics of what was described in “Fighting in the Real World” as the relationship between control and opportunity. The reconciliation of competing imperatives-the foundation of all art-is also at the center of the art of command. This dynamic, unique to each situation, can only be solved by commanders at each level of war, balancing the factors of METT-TSL.* Surely, this is not too much to ask of Marine commanders..

EITHER SOVIET OR GERMAN?

According to maneuverists, when thinking about maneuver theory, we must choose either a Soviet or German heritage. There is no middle ground-all is black or white, a Manichaean approach that requires Marines either be “with us or against us.” If this sounds too constraining, that’s because it is! The “either-or” didacticism that permeates the entire “maneuverist” critique is a false choice.

The German and the Soviet schools of maneuver theory were the products of cultural and historical factors that were unique to their time in history. The Germans owed their remarkable successes to reasons far more subtle and complex than simply a maneuver-based tactical doctrine, as demonstrated by Martin van Creveld in his book Fighting Power. The Soviets adopted a more centralized view of maneuver theory than the Germans, yet ultimately political and social pressures, not only military factors, forced them to drop this approach to maneuver theory. Given the vastly different cultures and settings involved, it is uncertain, at best, how much of this is directly relevant to the current American situation.

This uncertainty is reinforced when we return to a familiar maneuverist hard line: German thinking is good, everyone else’s is bad. The argument is this: Marine synchronization, French methodical battle, Soviet maneuver theory, and the U.S. Army are all basically alike-nonGerman and therefore wedded to a lockstep, centralized-control model that is doomed to failure. We will always be eating Prussian dust, trapped by a rigid American passion for order. This condescending view ignores societal, cultural, and historical factors that are critical in studying and understanding why and how armies develop certain styles of fighting.

So WHAT?

The principles of maneuver warfare theory form our tactical doctrine. It is a mistake to frame a discussion of the utility of synchronization concepts as an “either-or” argument that requires us to choose between maneuver warfare or synchronization. Synchronization techniques are not compering doctrine but rather a body of supporting tools. They do not innately undermine maneuver theory-and we do not have to choose.

Instead, we should pragmatically take what works within the constraints of specific situations. Some situations will require a high degree of synchronization, unity of effort, and possibly, centralized control. Other situations will be more suited for decentralized operations. Undoubtedly, a strong bias for decentralization will serve us well, but the situation on the ground must dictate.

The maneuverist argument demands we choose an extreme position and rejects the possibility of a more balanced compromise. Luckily for the Marine Corps, we do not require their approval to obtain a workable synthesis of an umbrella concept of maneuver warfare theory, implemented when and where appropriate with the tools of synchronization. By denying this dialectic, maneuverists risk marginalizing themselves. The world is passing them by. This will be unfortunate, because many of their ideas have been and will continue to be important for the Marine Corps.

Synchronization in various forms is being used throughout the Marine Corps today. These ideas have arrived, and they are now part of our doctrine and formal schools system. Different organizations are taking as much or as little as appropriate, and most of them are doing so because synchronization works. If synchronization doesn’t work, then it will be rejected. Marines, being results-oriented, will apply the principle of natural selection. Theorists, pundits, and their fierce arguments in the Gazette will ultimately yield to the effectiveness of these ideas in the field.

Synchronization

by Maj Eric M. Walters

Before the Marine Corps brings synchronization techniques to the chaotic, fluid battlefields of tomorrow, it should examine the rich Soviet experience in this area. The danger of adapting a warfighting method that will not meet the stress of combat requires such inquiry.

To a former student of Soviet military doctrine, the similarities between past Soviet writings and current discussions in U.S. professional military journals are startling. One example of this is Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie’s “Fighting in the Real World,” which appeared in the March 1994 issue of the Gazette. McKenzie argues that his ideas of synchronization-which he says are different from the Army concept of the same name-are not inimical to maneuver warfare as some critics suggest, but actively support it.

McKenzie’s conception of synchronization parallels Soviet military doctrine from the 1960s through the end of the 1980s, doctrine that stresses optimizing the integration of combined arms during battle through centralized mmmand and control (C^sup 2^). If the similarities are more than superficial, the argument of whether synchronization aids or hinders maneuver warfare really depends on which control context, centralized or decentralized, frames the discussion.

What is most important for the Marine Corps, however, is that the Soviets realized that centralized control can no longer reliably work under actual conditions of war. This conclusion bankrupts any notion that a centralized-control philosophy can support maneuver warare. These findings bode ill for U.S. attempts to win using synchronization in the heat of battle.

The Conceptual Groundwork

While McKenzie attributes many meanings to the term “synchronization” in his article, the “techniques and procedures” connotation is the core of his piece. These techniques and procedures (intelligence preparation of the battlefield, battlefield activities, and battlefield geometry) are designed to assist the commander and his staff. Synchronization, in McKenzie’s view, is primarily meant to support C^sup 2^.

Maneuver warfare is a more slippery term. One can find many definitions, but the common thread among them is the drive to achieve a faster operating tempo. The use of speed as a weapon to disorient and shatter the enemy’s cohesion-as opposed to physically obliterating himis its distinguishing feature.

In his book, The Art of Maneuver (Presidio Press, 1991), Maj Robert Leonhard, USA, notes that the method of C^sup 2 ^is not mandated by maneuver warfare. Any C^sup 2^ style that creates a higher tempo than the enemy’s achieves the goal of maneuver warfare. Leonhard then distinguishes between the two schools of maneuver warfare theory-one German and one Soviet. Both schools sought to defeat the enemy through high tempo operations focused against enemy weakness rather than the brute application of strength against strength. What differentiates them is their dissimilar approaches to C^sup 2^; the Germans tended to work in a decentralizing directive or mission-control style, while the Soviets preferred the centralizing detailed-control style. As to which style is better in performing maneuver warfare, Leonhard states: Each form of command and controldirective [mission] and detailed-offers advantages over the other, and both have been employed to equal effect by maneuver oriented commanders in the past. The former method seeks a gap; the latter creates one. The former exploits opportunity; the latter exploits unity of effort…. In point of fact, both methods of command and control can be effective.

There is now room for doubt about this last point, as shall be seen.

The Quest for Optimization

At the foundation of both synchronization and Soviet military doctrine is the belief that the commander must always achieve efficiency in battle-both seek to constantly optimize application of force.

McKenzie states that: at the operational and tactical levels, commanders work within the construct of a coherent set of functions intended to optimize the interplay of the various elements of warfighting power.

The core function is the intelligence preparation of the battlefield (IPB), which McKenzie describes. As anyone familiar with it will attest, IPB is a very labor- and time-intensive process, yet the expected payoff in analytical power is supposed to be worth the cost. The Soviet planning effort also began with a time-consuming but formidable intelligence effort to reduce uncertainty to the lowest possible level. IPB decision aids (particularly the decision support template, or DST) are according to McKenzie, “designed to enable rapid adjustment of the commander’s vision of the unfolding battle, provided and organized quantitatively.”

McKenzie’s emphasis on quantitative comparison, analysis, and outputs, even during execution while in contact with the enemy, parallels the concept-algorithm-decision methodology of Soviet C^sup 2^-particularly their use of diagrammatic network process modeling in planning operations. It must be said that IPB facilitates analytical decisionmaking in a more interactive format than the purely mathematical models of the Soviets, providing a structure for action without prescribing specifically what that action will be. Commanders are free to adjust what they do based on what the enemy does; the framework is simply a medium which enables rapid optimization of improvisation.

Like McKenzie, the Soviets maintain the process could adequately cope with uncertainty. This was done by calculating unknowns based on probabilities or simply “worst-casing”; operational options were also “hedged” to allow for unforeseen circumstances and delays in execution. To assist in doing the analytical stubby-pencil work, manual and automated decision aids helped in comparing friendly options to each other and versus enemy capabilities.

Despite all this effort, Soviet rhetoric strongly stressed that the commander’s judgment was indispensable in correctly arriving at a decision. These tools were simply to assist him in doing so more quickly and accurately during both planning and execution. This neatly coincides with McKenzie’s admonition that IPB:

cannot be a substitute for the commander’s decision, reached through analysis and the spark of intuition, but it can help make his decision an informed and rapid one.

But, like McKenzie, the Soviets never adequately explained how to reconcile the “spark of intuition” with their analytical approach.

McKenzie’s synchronization does allow more flexibility than the Soviet methods-but only within the framework he says synchronization provides:

Through the medium of the commander’s intent, a plan’s ‘branches’ are developed during the planning and wargaming process, preparing units for possible rapid changes in situation, mission, and status. Concurrently, potential ‘sequels’ are identified that enable the staff and commander to coordinate battlefield activities for future operations. The entropic nature of combat will challenge all plans, but a planning and analysis structure that recognizes the inevitability of change will be able to accommodate these occurrences.This “built-in” illustrated by McKenzie’s quotation of capacity for change is illustrated by McKenzie’s quatation of the U.S. Army’s 1992 draft of FM 101-5, which maintains that synchronization constructs a “critical path of concentration and priorities.” Determination and monitoring of the critical path in an operation also lay at the heart of Soviet diagrammatic network process modeling. Through identification of the critical path in an operation, the Soviets attempted to avoid tying “all maneuver units to the pace of the slowest, like yoked oxen,” as McKenzie’s synchronization critics might claim.

The Soviet plan was highly articulated and flexible, being able to absorb a number of changes in the noncritical path processes (usually the majority of events) without slowing down the overall operation. In other words, slack to take delays into account was built in. The critical path in a network highlighted those events that, if delayed, imposed a corresponding delay on the entire operation. Events comprising the critical path indeed spelled out the main effort for the operation since they were its backbone; all measures were designed to ensure critical path processes were not delayed. Because both develop explicit critical path processes in an operational plan, U.S. Army synchronization matrices physically look extremely similar to Soviet diagrammatic network process models. This is important, because both of these command tools cannot help but script subordinate-unit actions to various degrees.

Soviet network-style planning provided a framework for a flow of events dependent on other events, facilitating quick adjustment of operational actions and associated schedules to the unfolding situation. This parallels McKenzie’s statement that synchronization is not timedriven, but event-driven and anticipatory.

McKenzie says that IPB “is particularly useful in wargaming potential courses of action, both enemy and friendly, during the development and execution of a plan. . . .” This emphasis on analysis during execution coincides exactly with the Soviet point of view.

It should be said here that analysis and optimization are not rejected wholesale by the decentralized school. Optimization and centralized control are not necessarily bad per se-what is at issue is when they are appropriate. They work best when variables are relatively few, are adequately definable, and can be anticipated. There should also be no time limitations to perform and communicate the analysis required to support them. Indeed, analysis and optimization have historically been very useful in planning for the first engagements in a campaign.

What is significant about synchronization and Soviet doctrine is that both maintain rigorous analysis and optimization can be accomplished even in the thick of the fight. This requires either a lot of information on the situation or a lot of wargaming and/or calculations to account for high degrees of uncertainly in order to hedge the plan.

The decentralized school rejects any attempt to do this no matter how seemingly flexible the method, since high fog and friction levels conspire to slow down the process. In other words, synchronization and Soviet doctrine work as long as events conform to plan or framework assumptions. If something happens that falls outside these assumptions, a lot of time is needed to rationalize the plan or framework to fit the new situation. And time is of the essence in maneuver warfare.

The Primacy of the Planning Process

The end product of both Soviet C^sup 2 ^doctrine and synchronization is a plan or framework that can deal with the anticipated chaos during execution-this through continuous analysis of the situation and subsequent adjustments to the plan to realize a new optimized solution even when in contact. While not explicitly stated, there is an underlying assumption here that the plan or framework is paramount.

To achieve the ideal in optimization requires total unity of effort in unit actions. Total unity of effort requires complete centralized, detailed control by headquarters. Since the holy grail of synchronization and Soviet doctrine is optimization, the tendency will be to centralize, not decentralize. Indeed, tolerating lesser degrees of control by headquarters means less unity of effort, which then forfeits the ultimate goal. This puts synchronization in the detailed-control school, whether McKenzie wants to admit to it or not. This parallel is reinforced by McKenzie’s comments on the importance of the IPB process over its products and the preeminence of the MAGTF command element. Planning and the entity that does the planning are of primary importance for both synchronization and Soviet military doctrine.

By way of contrast, mission control is satisfied with a “good enough” solution cobbled together by cooperating warfighters on the spot in accordance with the commander’s intent. In this view, once the overall intent is given, the headquarters and its planning process are less important than the people who are doing the actual fighting.

The Role of Initiative McKenzie’s statement that synchronization is conceptually “counterpoised against agility and initiative” is another indication of how synchronization primarily supports detailed control. The necessity for centralized decisionmaking is asserted as he maintains that the commander-armed with the synchronization framework-will himself make the decision when to use agility and initiative. In McKenzie’s words, “The ability to reconcile these concepts . . . varies from commander to commander, but ongoing synchronization makes it easier to define critical issues and expedite decisions.” This, of course, defeats the entire purpose of agility and initiative in the first place. These qualities allow subordinates to take immediate action without consulting the commander, especially in situations where there isn’t enough information to come up with an optimum course of action quickly-ongoing synchronization or not. One can readily see that synchronization will cause units to wait around in uncertain situations for permission to take the initiative.

McKenzie insists that his synchronization does not script or choreograph units; the implication being that this is what separates his concept of synchronization from that of the U.S. Army, French methodical battle, and the Soviet approach. But this separation is only rhetorical; underneath all these concepts is the familiar foundation of centralized control. When maximizing unity of effort, analytical decisionmaking, quantification, and subsequent optimization of combined arms application, it follows that executing units must always obey the detailed instructions of a single entity who blends their actions together. How can optimization-the stated goal of synchronization, French methodical battle, and Soviet doctrine-be achieved in any other way, without continuously centralized control?

Given the thrust of McKenzie’s discussion, his concept of synchronization does indeed support maneuver warfare, but only of the Soviet-style, detailedcontrol school. It cannot support mission control as advocated in FMFM 1 Warfighting and its brother publications. Yet these are the publications McKenzie says synchronization indeed supports. He does mention that “Commanders must recognize that fleeting opportunities will arise, requiring immediate and perhaps unanticipated action.” Unfortunately, nothing else in the article provides any insight as to how this would be done within the synchronization context. It has to be assumed, given the thrust of the article, that the commander would explicitly grant permission for units to take the initiative and then try to rationalize the framework to the new development. This will take much time-probably more time than is available.

Because the synchronization framework does have such analytical power, it will be difficult for people to free themselves of it when in an ambiguous situation, even when the situation demands rapid action. Since it comfortably organizes a frightening environment, the tendency will be to cling to it in case of doubt, not abandon it when necessary. One can easily envision people spending precious hours attempting to modify the framework to fit a situation it did not originally envision; isn’t this the idea behind ongoing synchronization? How much time is needed to perform such a process? Can we afford it?

Far more dangerous-and perhaps more likely-will be the temptation to rationalize an ambiguous situation to fit the framework. The human inclination will be to focus inward on the process, even though the process is designed to focus outward on the enemy. Means can very easily become ends despite the best of intentions, and synchronization processes make this very easy. Maj McKenzie flatly states that the Marine culture of maneuver warfare will prevent this, but how this would happen is hard to envision.

The Soviets were able to achieve high-tempo operations by massive hedging and tightly optimizing force application for critical path events and then ruthlessly sticking to the plan. Their liberal use of mass compensated for the shortcomings of their centralized-control systems in coping with the unexpected. They were slow in planning and preparation, but fast in execution, since they hardly ever deviated from the plan with success. Aware of their lack of flexibility, they developed automated decision aids to shorten the time needed to do analytical decisionmaking in the middle of combat. If we, like the Soviets, adopt such a centralized-control philosophy as McKenzie implies, could we similarly compensate with profligate doses of mass? Can “ongoing synchronization”perhaps also using automation-facilitate analytical decisionmaking fast enough?

Some Warnings

The U.S. Army, whose methods parallel Soviet C^sup 2^ processes to even greater fidelity than do McKenzie’s, is trying to do exactly this. Maj Leonhard writes that the Army conduct of Operation DESERT STORM was stringently controlled from the top down; yet Training and Doctrine Command’s official statements say that the Army was improving in its “mission tactics” and “mission orders.” Leonhard provides much evidence that the difference between Army written doctrine, which stresses decentralization, and Army choreographed operations in the field was never more blatant than in the Gulf War. Such centralized control of massive firepower appears to have worked, perhaps because the relatively inert Iraqis did not pose truly high levels of fog and friction. Another contributing factor was the ample amount of time to prepare a detailed plan before the ground war began. Yet, Leonhard asks, does this one success mean that centralized control is the preferred way to fight future wars?

Ironically enough, the Soviet school of maneuver warfare died even before the end of the Soviet Union. The Ministry of Defense began to realize in the early 1980s that the Soviet C^sup 2^ approach, while it worked in World War II and in subsequent military exercises, was found wanting when “fighting in the real world” in Afghanistan. By the latter half of the decade, combat experience had graphically demonstrated that only through individual initiative-giving up on analysis, optimization, and centralized C^sup 2^ in battle-could the Soviets hope to win against the insurgents.

If this were not enough, Soviet military academicians, bolstered by data gained from their own advanced technology-related testing, claimed that future largescale warfare would necessitate decentralization of C^sup 2^ far below the regimental level. They believed that a major war with the West would be conducted with long-range, precision-guided, conventional weapons of high lethality linked to deep-seeing sensors. These so-called “reconnaissance-fire” and “reconnaissance-strike” complexes would radically change the balance of combat power, and thus the situation, constantly across the breadth and depth of the entire theater. This would happen much faster than centralized C^sup 2 ^at any level could possibly cope with. Even with high-speed computers which analyzed and wargamed options, no optimized plan or concept could keep pace with real world events.

It should be noted that the Soviets originally adopted the detailed-control style because they knew they could not perform maneuver warfare using mission control. With their multilingual and multicultural conscript force, the necessary cohesion and training to achieve effective decentralized control could never be attained. If the Marine Corps ends up adopting such a centralized style of control, then it can only be because we, like the Soviets, could not expect to achieve the level of cohesion and training decentralization demands.

If the Marine Corps intends to use synchronization techniques in the chaotic and fluid medium of combat, we should closely examine the rich Soviet experience and open-source writings in this area. The danger of adopting warfighting methods that might not work in the stress of combat would warrant such inquiry.

Out of Sync with Maneuver Warfare

by Maj John F. Schmitt, USMCR

Synchronization-the arranging of battlefield activities in time, space, and purpose to produce maximum relative combat power at the decisive point-has long been a basic tenet of Army doctrine. Since the publication of FMFM 1, Warfighting, Marines have debated the extent to which synchronization concepts apply to maneuver warfare. An article by Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie, published last March, focused the arguments and brought this debate into the open. Brief comments on his article appeared in the June Gazette; here the issue is treated in depth with three articles maintaining that synchronization is incompatible with the Corps’ maneuver warfare concepts and two rebuttal pieces by Maj McKenzie.

Maj Kenneth F. McKenzie’s article “Fighting in the Real World” in the March Gazelle asks whether the concept he calls synchronization supports maneuver warfare or is incompatible with maneuver warfare. In deciding that it does support maneuver warfare and that the Marine Corps should adopt synchronization techniques, McKenzie reaches the wrong conclusion. Not only does synchronization not support Marine Corps maneuver warfare doctrine, it is wholly incompatible with that doctrine.

McKenzie’s description of synchronization is vague and inconsistent. He makes the obligatory references to FMFM 1 as the basis for his beliefs and then promptly contradicts them. Although he insists that synchronization is a collection of practical techniques and procedures rather than a doctrinal concept, he conspicuously avoids discussing any specifics of how these techniques and procedures work or how they fit together to achieve the desired effect. Sometimes his description of synchronization sounds like the definition of combined arms, sometimes it sounds like nothing more than simple coordination, sometimes it sounds like “the plan.” It is not easy to understand exactly what McKenzie is trying to say-this lack of clarity and specifics is part of the reason he can suggest that synchronization is compatible with maneuver warfare.

Some take synchronization to mean nothing more than what is needed to coordinate and prepare our operations-that we cannot just “wing” it. If synchronization is nothing more than coordination and adequate preparation, you will get no argument here. No “maneuverist” will argue that you do not need to coordinate or prepare-although the form the coordination and preparation take may be a matter for discussion. But if that is all synchronization means, there is nothing to be gained by introducing this new term, especially a term that implies much more than that to most people and that, in fact, has a much more specific meaning in the U.S. Army literature where it originated. While McKenzie points out that he has some potential differences with the Army’s implementation of the concept, it is clear he agrees in principle.

In order to discuss synchronization and its implications intelligently, we need to get past the buzz words and ambiguity and come to grips with exactly what the concept really means. Based on the U.S. Army’s and McKenzie’s own descriptions of synchronization, I will develop a model which illustrates the synchronization process in specific theoretical terms. I will then go on to discuss how, based on this model, synchronization is flawed conceptually and how synchronization is incompatible with Marine Corps maneuver warare doctrine as described in the FMFM 1 series.

How Synchronization Works in Theory: A Model

McKenzie writes that “synchronization is an ongoing analytic process that provides a methodology for shaping, not scripting, efforts within the chaotic environment of combat.” In other words, synchronization provides a structured framework for dealing with the disorder of combat. Or put yet another way, synchronization deals with the nature of the battlefield by drawing a box around the disorder, uncertainty, and so on and by providing a structure for dealing with everything inside that box.

In fact, putting things into “boxes” is a natural human approach to creating order and structure in our lives. We store our belongings in boxes. We organize our closets, cupboards, drawers, and bookshelves. We order our files in our filing cabinets. Sometimes we order our understanding of a subject by creating mental compartments (MOOSEMUSS* is an alltoo-common example of trying to compartmentalize our understanding of the art of war). We create boxes on the battlefield by drawing boundaries, phase lines, limits of advance, fire support coordination lines, restricted fire areas, and airspace control areas. In the same way, the synchronization framework, with its intelligence preparation of the battlefield (IPB), battlefield activities, and battlefield geometry, is a box designed to enclose and provide structure to the disorder that is war. The whole key to this approach is whether we can draw our box big enough to encompass all possibilities without having to draw it so big that it becomes useless as a tool for ordering and focusing our efforts. Some things just do not fit well into boxes.

Figure 1 provides a schematic of how the process works in theory. Based on our framework of assumptions about the situation-our “box”-we analyze enemy courses of action, which lead to corresponding friendly plans with associated decision points. Each decision point leads to anticipated branches and sequels, which in turn lead to new decision points and sub

*A mnemonic devise used to help remember the nine principles of war-mass, objective, offensive, security, economy of force, maneuver, unity of sequent branches and sequels. The purpose behind anticipating branches and sequels, in McKenzie’s words, is to “enable the staff and commander to coordinate battlefield activities for future operations.”

In Figure 1, each small circle is driven primarily by the IPB process-the initial enemy courses of action by the initial IPB and the subsequent decision points primarily by the decision support templates (DST) generated as part of ongoing IPB. The arrows, on the other hand, represent the actions that are the results of our and enemy plans and operations. It is within each of these arrows that we would optimize battlefield activities through prior coordination and planning; in other words, this is where the actual synchronization takes place. The gray pathways represent all me possible developments. In McKenzie’s own words, synchronization thus “envisions possible paths to obtain decisive mass and tempo at the proper time and place.” The black cause-and-effect pathway (A-G3), depicting the course of events as it actually unfolds, represents what McKenzie would call the “critical path of concentration and priorities.”

For example, enemy course of action A leads to our adopting predetermined friendly plan A1 that, when combined with the enemy’s actions, logically leads to decision point C. Once the enemy has adopted course of action A (or led us to believe that he has) we stop worrying about path B and focus on what happens after decision point C. We can focus on ensuring the optimal integration of all our assets for the future execution of C1, C2, or C3. Decision point C represents the last place we can choose C1, C2, or C3hopefully, the enemy’s triggering named areas of interest (NAI) during the course of A1 has allowed us to make the determination sooner. Let’s say we choose C3, which leads naturally to decision point G; we can now ignore the E and F paths (and all their subsequent branches) and can focus on synchronizing G1, G2, and G3. And so on. It is not necessary to have laid out the entire structure in advance, but it is necessary to have laid out in advance at least through the next decision point and each of its possible branches. In practice, this requires both the ability to anticipate and the ability to do the necessary analysis, planning, and coordination fast enough to stay ahead of unfolding events. It is precisely this anticipatory ability that allows for the advanced planning and coordination essential to the optimal integration of efforts and resources. This point is absolutely key and bears repeating: The whole object of the synchronization process, in theory, is to allow us to anticipate events so that we can get the jump on the enemy and can develop coordinated, integrated plans in advance.

The foundation of this whole process is, as McKenzie implies, IPB. IPB is the long pole that holds up the synchronization tent; without it, the tent would collapse. It is IPB that establishes the overall framework-draws the “box” of possibilities, in other words-by establishing our set of assumptions. It is the initial IPB that allows us to anticipate enemy courses of action, and therefore to develop our own synchronized plans in advance. It is ongoing IPB, primarily through the use of decision support templates at decision points, that allows us to anticipate events as the operation unfolds and, therefore, again to synchronize our efforts in advance.

As we proceed through the operation (from top to bottom in Figure 1), we can see that the number of options and outcomes increases exponentially. At first glance, this might appear a problem because it is impossible to plan for every potential outcome or variation. But each decision point theoretically provides a narrower framework of possibilities-a smaller “box”-because once we choose a given path, we can shut down the other paths. This continuous narrowing of the framework is absolutely essential to the process; without it we would become overwhelmed trying to deal with all the possibilities.

At the same time, synchronization is theoretically very flexible because, through its cumulative system of branches, it provides eventually for a vast array of possibilities. As we can see from the bottom row of Figure 1 (E1-J3), in theory the anticipated final actions and outcomes pretty much blanket the entire range of possibilities as defined by our framework. There are no gaps in our framework; we’ve covered every contingency. Theoretically, success is merely a function of defining and continuously narrowing the range of possibilities (to allow us to focus our synchronization effort), identifying all the variables (i.e., decision points), and following the proper path to the right outcome.

The BOS Synchronization Matrix

The logical and natural culmination of the synchronization process is the battlefield operating systems (BOS) synchronization matrix. Battlefield operating systems, or what McKenzie calls battlefield activities, refer to the various activitiesmaneuver, fire support, logistics, intelligence, air defense, and so on-which must be integrated optimally in order to achieve synchronization. Each arrow in Figure 1 represents an integrated collection of activities governed by a synchronization matrix. Not only does synchronization enclose combat in a box, it further subdivides that box in order to try to fit combat into a matrix. This matrix is the manifestation of McKenzie’s assertion that “commanders work within the construct of a coherent set of functions intended to optimize the interplay of the various elements of warfighting power.”

In practical terms, the synchronization matrix is a contingency script that lists, on one axis, the various anticipated decision points and, on the other axis, the predetermined actions that each battlefield operating system will take in the event of each decision point being triggered. As the name indicates, the object of the matrix is to ensure the synchronization of all the BOS or battlefield activities. Figure 2 provides a partial sample of a synchronization matrix and a corresponding decision support template.

McKenzie conspicuously stops short of mentioning the synchronization matrix in his article, perhaps because he realizes that it reveals just how mechanistic and quantitative the synchronization approach really is. Supporters of synchronization might argue that we can believe in the process without carrying it to that extreme. But this is irrational. The matrix is the very thing that the whole process is working toward; it is precisely the device that allows us to achieve the optimal “integration of combat, combat support, and combat service support systems in time and space to obtain a sum of combat power that is greater than the simple addition of individual parts”-McKenzie’s words. Why go through the trouble of pursuing optimization only to stop short of the very thing that will theoretically achieve it for you? That makes about as much sense as building a fence around your yard to keep your dog from running away, only to purposely leave the gate open.

What Is the Appeal of Synchronization?

As we can readily see from Figures 1 and 2, synchronization reflects an extremely deterministic and methodical approach to military operations. We can understand the appeal it has for the American mind. It is organized, orderly, and logical. It may be somewhat complicated, but that’s not a problem as long as it is systematic-in fact, to our way of thinking, the more complicated something is, the more advanced it must be. It is also labor intensive, with a heavy reliance on comparative analysis, coordination, and planning. But, again, that is not a problem because we have large, eager staffs ready to do the necessary stubby-pencil work.

FMFM 1 tells us that war is inherently uncertain, unpredictable, frictional, fluid, disorderly, imprecise, and somewhat random. The problem is that these truths do not sit well with Americans in the current culture. We are products of the scientific age that hold that through the scientific method we can master nature. We expect things to go the way we want them to. We crave certainty and precision. We want guarantees. We want to see quantifiable proof. We like to believe that if we take a certain action it will have direct, predictable, and exact results. We like to believe that every question has a right answer, and that if we get enough information and apply the right method we will find that right answer. We strive for optimization and efficiency in all things. We like everything orderly-a place for everything and everything in its place. It is clear that synchronization and IPB are typical products of this mindset.

Unfortunately, the nature of war as described in FMFM 1 is inconsistent with-no, make that contradictory to-this culture. This is why the adoption of maneuver warfare is not merely a matter of doctrinal change but of cultural change. Meanwhile synchronization holds out the alluring but irrational promise that we can have it both ways: Yes, war is inherently uncertain, random, chaotic, and frictional, but we can still get certainty, precision, order, and optimization. Like a security blanket, synchronization provides a false sense of security. Like a belief in magic, it allows us to ignore the laws of nature.

How Does the Synchronization Model Deal With the Unexpected?

Marines are agreed that war is the province of the unexpected. Our doctrine consequently places a premium on initiative. McKenzie writes:

The entropic nature of combat will challenge all plans, but a planning and analysis structure that recognizes the inevitability of change will be able to accommodate these occurrences.

So how does synchronization deal with the unexpected and allow room for initiative? Figure 3 is a schematic showing how this works in theory. Say that the enemy chooses course of action A, which leads to action A1 and eventually to decision point C. Suppose that we reach C, but none of the anticipated branches (C1-C3) are quite appropriate given the situation. Although it is not an event we anticipated exactly, it does not violate any of the basic assumptions that decision point C is based on. It is still within our box. Let’s say it is somewhere between C2 and C3. We can interpolate the requirement and adopt new course C4. Most of the synchronization already done for C2 and C3 can be applied with some modification. C4 leads to new decision point K, and K leads to more branches (K1-K3), all of which are still bounded by our established framework-that is, they are within our basic set of assumptions. In this way we exercised “initiative” at decision point C to improvise branches C4 and, later, K2. Even though a plan was not specifically developed in advance, as long as events are within the bounds of the established framework, synchronization thus theoretically provides the means to adapt. This is how McKenzie can argue that it is possible to exercise initiative within the synchronization framework. We should make it clear, however, that when we use the term “initiative” in this sense, it has a much more limited meaning than is typically used. McKenzie betrays this reality when he makes the admission that “conceptually, synchronization is counter-poised against agility and initiative.”

Problems With the Model

There are some basic problems with the synchronization model. First, what happens when events fall outside the bounds of the framework? In other words, what happens when our basic assumptions are wrong? Figure 3 illustrates this schematically. For example, say that the enemy chooses course of action A, as we anticipated he might, and so we appropriately adopt friendly course A1; but-due to fog, friction, chance, an enemy who doesn’t act logically, whatever-the result does not take us to decision point C as we expect, but instead to X, an event which is not envisioned by the C range of possibility-it’s outside the “box.” X bears little resemblance to C or any of its branches. We have not developed, nor even considered, any branches or sequels developing out of X. As a result, the whole process is stillborn. Or let’s say that we have correctly identified the enemy’s two possible courses of action (A and B), but that the enemy has cleverly deceived us into thinking he is choosing A when he is really choosing B (not so hard to do if we are ready to believe he is choosing A and are merely waiting for him to trigger a NAI as confirmation); instead of ending up at decision point C we end up at D, which is part of the original B pathway. You might say that we simply shift to the D path, adopting D1, D2, or D3. Unfortunately, in order to keep the amount of analysis, planning, and coordination down to a reasonable level, that entire pathway was shut off from above when our IPB led us to decision point A vice decision point B. Again, the whole process is stillborn. Or, perhaps most dangerous of all, what if the enemy doesn’t choose either of our two anticipated possibilities in the first place? Let’s say that instead of A or B, he chooses Z, completely outside our widest framework? For example, we are expecting an armor attack along avenue of approach A or B; not only does he not choose either avenue, but he doesn’t even launch an armor attack-instead he mounts a light-infantry infiltration. Like the North Koreans when MacArthur landed at Inchon, we are taken completely by surprise and are completely unprepared to deal with it. What we have in this case is catastrophic failure of the synchronization process. In any of these examples, none of our existing or envisioned branches and sequels will work, and we do not have a framework for adapting. Remember, the whole process is predicated on the ability to anticipate. Once we have failed to anticipate the next decision point with at least some degree of accuracy, from that point on we cannot synchronize and the process cannot work. And what happens then to a military that has come to depend on synchronization?

The second basic flaw with the synchronization model is the time factor. Marines are agreed that time is a critical factor in combat and that the aim is to generate a higher tempo than the enemy. In fact, that is the whole basis of maneuver warfare. Of course, we have to assume that the enemy also realizes this and is trying to do the same thing to us. But the synchronization model does not account for time. Synchronization is a fundamentally methodical approach requiring explicit analysis, planning, and coordination. While the stated aim of synchronization is to increase tempo by allowing us to anticipate the enemy, in practice the time-consuming techniques and procedures upon which synchronization is based make this impossible. An Army officer at the School for Advanced Military Studies in Ft. Leavenworth confided that in order to have the time to do the things needed to synchronize operations at the division and corps levels, it is necessary to predict the enemy’s actions a full 72 hours in advance. In other words, at that level (which equates roughly to the Marine expeditionary force level), it takes 72 hours to mount a synchronized operation. The model assumes we will have the time to accomplish all the necessary procedures. But what if the enemy simply does not give us the time to execute the method? What if he does not worry about the optimal integration of his assets but would rather just be fast? What if we simply cannot work through the IPB and synchronization techniques in time? If we cannot keep up with developing events, then we cannot possibly anticipate. And, as we have mentioned, once we fail to anticipate, the process is scuppered. This is essentially what happened to the French in 1940; the Germans denied them the time they needed to implement their plans.

The third basic flaw with the model is its failure to account for the human element, which our doctrine tells us is central in war. War is made up of the actions of countless people-friendly, enemy, and neutral-and we cannot rely on them all to act rationally. Yet the synchronization process assumes that operations will unfold in a predictable and logical chain reaction of cause and effect. It is based on recognizable patterns and “If A, then B” sequences. It is important to note that the Army originally created IPB, the foundation of synchronization, specifically in response to the Soviet threat-a supposedly doctrinaire and systematic conventional enemy whose patterned operations were easily transferable to graphic templates. Not surprisingly, the Army is having much less success shoehorning IPB to fit various, less-structured low-intensity operations. What if the enemy is an unorganized rabble with no doctrine or infrastructure to speak of? What if the enemy does not feel at all compelled to adhere to his established doctrine? Or what if the enemy’s doctrine specifically calls for him to act unpredictably and without discernible patterns (as maneuver warfare does but synchronization definitely does not)?

The final basic flaw with the model is, I think, the most significant and by itself invalidates the whole synchronization process. Any model is merely a simplified representation of reality. Reality is rarely as neat and clean as the model representing it. But in order to work, the model must reasonably approximate the reality. If the model has little resemblance to the reality it purports to represent, then it is not of use. It may in fact be worse dian useless-it may actually mislead us into belief and actions that are inconsistent with reality. Consider the following passage from FMFM 1:

In an environment of friction, uncertainty, and fluidity, war gravitates naturally toward disorder. Like the other attributes of the environment of war, disorder is an integral characteristic of wan we can never eliminate it. In the heat of battle, plans will go awry, instructions and information will be unclear and misinterpreted, communications will fail, and mistakes and unforeseen events will be commonplace. It is precisely this natural disorder which creates the conditions ripe for exploitation by an opportunistic will.

Each encounter in war will usually tend to grow increasingly disordered over time. As the situation changes continuously, we are forced to improvise again and again until finally our actions have little, if any, resemblance to the original scheme.

The flaw with the synchronization model is that, even taking into account that the model is a necessarily simplified representation, the process it describes bears little resemblance to the reality described in this passage.

The Inherent Nature of War

McKenzie readily accepts this description of combat. He writes that:

Synchronization in the Marine Corps context encompasses a set of techniques and procedures designed to enhance performance within the chaotic battlefield envisioned by the philosophy of maneuver warfare.

He has got the problem right, but he has got the solution all wrong. By trying to create order on the inherently chaotic battlefield, through its systematic and methodical approach, synchronization will not enhance performance but instead will seriously hamper performance. To be effective, any doctrine, tactic, technique, or procedure must come to grips with the natural environment of combat. There are two basic ways to try to do this. The first is to try to overcome the inherent nature of war, to turn it into something it’s notin other words to impose smoothness, certainty, order, and structure. The other is to recognize war for what it is and to learn to function in that environment Clearly, with its heavy emphasis on optimization, detail, explicit coordination, geometry, templates, matrices, and so on, synchronization derives from the former approach. However, doctrinally, through the FMFM 1 series, the Marine Corps has clearly adopted the opposite approach. This is a fundamental point. Any approach that does not recognize this, such as the effort to incorporate synchronization, is fundamentally incompatible with maneuver warfare doctrine.

The Failure To Understand Maneuver Warfare

This leads us to the next point, namely that the argument for synchronization reflects a failure to understand the concepts that are the very basis of maneuver warfare. McKenzie starts the article out with the following assertion:

Through an evolutionary doctrinal process, the Marine Corps is reestablishing the primacy of the Marine air-ground task force (MAGTF) command element (CE) as the principal warfighting headquarters at all levels of the air-ground team.

McKenzie’s opening statement is just flat wrong and once pointed in the wrong direction, the article never recovers its bearings. A move toward the primacy of the MAGTF command element would be by definition a move toward centralizationthe MAGTF command element becomes increasingly more important in relation to subordinate echelons. McKenzie has a very good reason for wanting to establish this point: Synchronization is impossible without centralization; there is no other way to achieve the high level of analysis or integration required. But, in fact, the evolution of Marine Corps doctrine, as evidenced by the FMFM 1 series, has been clearly in the opposite direction. Our doctrine strongly and clearly advocates decentralization by increasing the authority and responsibility placed on lower echelons. Our doctrine requires that the authority for initiative and decisionmaking be pushed down to the lowest possible level as a means of generating tempo, adjusting to disorderly and rapidly changing situations, and overcoming friction. This is another fundamental point. If you do not recognize it, then your argument from this point on will be inherently flawed.

Theories of Control

There is much more to this than simply the question of centralization versus decentralization. Fundamental to the issue of synchronization is the question of the Marine Corps’ overall philosophy of command and control, since synchronization deals with how we command and control our forces in the conduct of operations. As military historian Martin van Creveld points out in the classic Command in War, the defining feature of the challenge of command and control is the problem of uncertainty. Van Creveld asserts that the entire history of command in war can be described as a “quest for certainty,” a quest that, given the inherent nature of war, he eventually concludes is futile. There are two, and only two, possible responses to the problem of uncertainty. The first is to pursue certainty (or as close to it as possible) as the basis for effective command and control. The second is to accept uncertainty as a given and to learn to cope with it by creating a command and control system that does not require a high level of certainty to function effectively. These two responses lead to two opposing theories of control. Each theory in cum provides the basis for a distinctly different practical approach to command and control.

The first theory, stemming from the pursuit of certainty, is called detailed control. The second, deriving from the acceptance of uncertainty, is called mission control (or directive control). Detailed control tries to eliminate uncertainty by creating a powerful, highly efficient centralized command and control apparatus able to process huge amounts of information and intended to reduce nearly all unknowns. Mission control takes the opposite approach. Rather than increase the degree of certainty that we achieve, we reduce the degree of certainty that we need. Detailed control stems from the belief that war is systematic and deterministic, and that through efficiency and sheer effort we can impose structure and certainty on the inherently disorderly and uncertain battlefield. Mission control stems from the acceptance that war is inherendy chaotic, meaning that the best we can hope for is probabilities rather than certainties. Detailed control is centralized, formal, and inflexible, relying on control measures, detailed planning and analysis, and elaborate and precise procedures and methods. Orders and plans are thorough and explicit and their successful execution requires strict adherence to the plan and minimizes subordinate decisionmaking and initiative. Mission control is decentralized, informal, and flexible. Orders and plans are brief and simple, relying on the judgment of subordinates in execution.

Detailed control seeks to achieve unity of effort by means of tight, centralized control that aims at the precise-dare I say synchronized?-integration of all subordinate elements. Naturally, there is little tolerance for any deviation from the plan, much less for the exercise of outright initiative by subordinates. In mission control, by contrast, unity of effort is not the product of conformity imposed from above, but of the spontaneous cooperation of all the elements of the force. Subordinates are guided not by detailed instructions, control measures, timetables, or event matrices, but by their knowledge of the requirements of the overall mission.

In detailed control, discipline is imposed from above. In mission control, that imposed discipline is replaced by selfdiscipline throughout the force. Relying on detailed planning and analysis, detailed control seeks to “optimize”-that is, to reach the optimum plan of action. Detailed control aims at precision. Where detailed control seeks to optimize, mission control recognizes that there is no perfect solution to any battlefield problem and instead seeks to “satisfice”-to pick the first course of action which will work. Mission control willingly sacrifices precision for speed in the belief that precision is a futile goal given the inherently disorderly nature of war. Mission control aims instead at the “eighty percent” solutions. Detailed control is essentially a top-down approach to command and control, emphasizing vertical, linear communications-linear meaning that reports and requests go up and orders come down. Mission control is essentially a bottom-up approach, relying on horizontal as well as vertical, and interactive vice linear communications.

Where Does Synchronization Fit?

Clearly, the concept of synchronization is quite compatible with the characteristics of detailed control. The emphasis on optimization, analysis, detailed anticipatory planning, and adherence to the plan fit right in with a top-down, centralized approach to control. In fact, it is quite easy to see that IPB, with its deterministic, mechanistic, and systematic emphasis on generating operational templates and anticipating enemy courses of action, is the brainchild of this mindset.

Just as clearly, however, we can see that, from a rational point of view, synchronization is entirely, irreconcilably incompatible with mission control.

What’s the Significance of This?

Understanding the difference between these philosophies of command and control is fundamental to understanding maneuver warfare as practiced by the Marine Corps. Fortunately, as Maj Eric Walters points out in his adjoining article, we have two excellent historical examples of hightempo, maneuver-oriented militaries adopting vastly different command and control styles based on the opposing philosophies: The Germans, who adopted a mission approach called Auftragstaklik, and the Soviets, who adopted a system based on extreme detailed control. Clearly, the U.S. Army, so concerned with fighting the Soviets for half a century, has bought into the Soviet model. This is abundantly clear if you read the Army’s version FMFM 1, FM 10O-5, Operations. On the other hand, the FMFM 1 series makes it just as clear that the Marine Corps has taken the opposite approach and adopted mission control as the basis for its command and control philosophy. Make no mistake about it, the Army and Marine Corps philosophies as described in their respective keystone doctrinal manuals are fundamentally different. Regardless of what you think of synchronization as a concept, there is no denying that it is rationally consistent with the official Army philosophy. It is just as rationally incompatible with the Marine Corps’ stated philosophy. You cannot take a concept that is the product of one specific paradigm and apply it blindly to another, opposing paradigm; it won’t fit.

The ironic thing, as Walters points out, is that while the synchronization enthusiasts in the Army and elsewhere move ever closer to the Soviet model, the Soviets themselves abandoned it in the late 1980s, after over four decades of trying, they decided it just doesn’t work. Of course, due to peculiar political and cultural factors that existed in the Soviet Union, the Soviets had a much more compelling reason than we have for giving detailed control a try in the first place.

Your View of the Nature of War

It all comes down to your fundamental view of the inherent nature of war. Do you believe that war is admittedly complicated, confusing, disorderly, but yet somehow ultimately deterministic and systematic? Do you believe that results are predictable and logical? Do you believe that the chaos and uncertainty of the battlefield can be mastered and provided with a governable structure and order? Do you believe that we can anticipate the enemy’s actions with enough accuracy often enough to make that the basis for the way we operate? Do you believe that we can fit the conduct of war neatly into a box? If so, then synchronization makes rational sense.

Or do you believe, as FMFM 1 asserts, that war is fundamentally, intractably chaotic and probabilistic? Do you believe, as FMFM 1 states, that war is the province of human vagary and therefore inherently unpredictable? Do you believe, as FMFM 1 argues, that the unexpected and unanticipated will be commonplace? Do you believe, in fact, as FMFM 1 urges, that it is the unforeseen event that provides the greatest opportunity for exploitation and the unexpected act that has the greatest chance of decisive effect? And do you believe, as FMFM 1 insists, that speed is essential in war and that we should do whatever we can to increase our own speed relative to the enemy, even at the expense of order and optimization? Do you believe, in short, that the conduct of war will not fit neady into that box? If so, you realize that synchronization is incompatible with Marine Corps maneuver warfare doctrine.

I mentioned earlier that the key question was whether it was possible to draw the synchronization framework big enough to encompass the nature of combat without having to draw it so big that it loses all usefulness as a structuring tool. To read our own doctrine, the answer is, clearly, No. You can support the Marine Corps view of maneuver warfare. You can support synchronization. You cannot do both.

At one point, McKenzie states: “The greatest threat to synchronization is a commander who is unable to accept uncertainty as his handmaiden in battle.” Once again, he’s got it backwards. The greatest threat to synchronization is actually the commander who will accept uncertainty as his handmaiden; for such a commander, recognizing that synchronization is incompatible with his view of reality, will readily and quickly dismiss it. For our own good, let us hope there are plenty of such Marines out there.