21st Century U.S. Military Manuals: U.S. Marine Corps (USMC) Command and Control - Marine Corps Doctrinal Publication (MCDP) 6
U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Military, Department of Defense
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BONUS USMC MARINE CORPS MANUAL
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U.S. Marine Corps
MCDP 6
PCN 142 000001 00 * DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY
Headquarters United States Marine Corps * Washington, D.C. 20380-1775
4 October 1996
FOREWORD
This doctrinal publication describes a theory and philosophy of command and control for the U.S. Marine Corps. Put very simply, the intent is to describe how we can reach effective military decisions and implement effective military actions faster than an adversary in any conflict setting on any scale. In so doing, this publication provides a framework for all Marines for the development and exercise of effective command and control in peace, in crisis, or in war. This publication represents a firm commitment by the Marine Corps to a bold, even fundamental shift in the way we will view and deal with the dynamic challenges of command and control in the information age.
The Marine Corps' view of command and control is based on our common understanding of the nature of war and on our warfighting philosophy, as described in Fleet Marine Force Manual 1, Warfighting (to be superseded by Marine Corps Doctrinal Publication 1, Warfighting). It takes into account both the timeless features of war as we understand them and the implications of the ongoing information explosion that is a consequence of modern technology. Since war is fundamentally a clash between independent, hostile wills, our doctrine for command and control accounts for animate enemies actively interfering with our plans and actions to further their own aims. Since we recognize the turbulent nature of war, our doctrine provides for fast, flexible, and decisive action in a complex environment characterized by friction, uncertainty, fluidity, and rapid change. Since we recognize that equipment is but a means to an end and not the end itself, our doctrine is independent of any particular technology. Taking a broad view that accounts first for the human factors central in war, this doctrine provides a proper framework for designing, appraising, and deploying hardware as well as other components of command and control support.
This doctrinal publication applies across the full range of military actions from humanitarian assistance on one extreme to general war on the other. It applies equally to small-unit leaders and senior commanders. Moreover, since any activity not directly a part of warfighting is part of the preparation for war, this doctrinal publication is meant to apply also to the conduct of peacetime activities in garrison as well as in the field.
This publication provides the authority for the subsequent development of command and control doctrine, education, training, equipment, facilities, procedures, and organization. This doctrinal publication provides no specific techniques or procedures for command and control; rather, it provides broad guidance which requires judgment in application. Other publications in the command and control series will provide specific tactics, techniques, and procedures for performing various tasks. MCDP 5, Planning, discusses the planning side of command and control more specifically.
"Operation VERBAL IMAGE," the short story with which this publication begins, offers a word picture of command and control in action (done well and done poorly) and illustrates various key points that appear in the text. It can be read separately or in conjunction with the rest of the text. Chapter 1 works from the assumption that, in order to develop an effective philosophy of command and control, we must first come to a realistic appreciation for the nature of the process and its related problems and opportunities. Based on this understanding, chapter 2 discusses theories of command and control, looking at the subject from various aspects, such as leadership, information management, and decisionmaking. Building on the conclusions of the preceding chapters, chapter 3 describes the basic features of the Marine Corps' approach to command and control.
A main point of this doctrinal publication is that command and control is not the exclusive province of senior commanders and staffs: effective command and control is the responsibility of all Marines. And so this publication is meant to guide Marines at all levels of command.
C.C. KRULAK
General, U.S. Marine Corps
Commandant of the Marine Corps
Operation VERBAL IMAGE
Scene: A troubled corner of the globe, sometime in the near future. The Marine expeditionary force prepares for an upcoming offensive.
2248 Monday: Maj John Gustafson had taken over as the regimental intelligence officer just in time for Operation VERBAL IMAGE. Who thinks up the names for these operations anyway? he wondered. This would be his first command briefing and he wanted to make a good impression. The colonel had a reputation for being a tough, no-nonsense boss—and the best regimental commander in the division. Gustafson would be thorough and by-the-numbers. He would have all the pertinent reports on hand, pages of printouts containing any piece of data the regimental commander could possibly want. He went over his briefing in his mind as he walked with his stack of reports through the driving rain to the command tent.
The colonel arrived, just back from visiting his forward battalions and soaking wet, and said, "All right, let's get started. S-2, you're up."
Gustafson cleared his throat and began. He had barely gotten through the expected precipitation when the colonel held up his hand as a signal to stop. Gustafson noticed the other staff officers smiling knowingly.
"Listen, S-2," the colonel said, "I don't care about how many inches of rainfall to expect. I don't care about the percentage of lunar illumination. I don't want lots of facts and figures. Number one, I don't have time, and number two, they don't do me any good. What I need is to know what it all means. Can the Cobras fly in this stuff or not? Will my tanks get bogged down in this mud? Don't read me lists of enemy spottings; tell me what the enemy's up to. Get inside his head. You don't have to impress me with how much data you can collect; I know you're a smart guy, S-2. But I don't deal in data; I deal in pictures. Paint me a picture, got it?"
"Don't worry about it, major," the regimental executive officer said later, clapping a hand on Gustafson's shoulder. "We've all been through it."
0615 Tuesday: The operation was getting underway. In his battalion command post, LtCol Dan Hewson observed with satisfaction as his units moved out toward their appointed objectives. He watched the progress on the computer screen before him. Depicted on the 19-inch flat screen was a color map of the battalion zone of action. The map was covered with luminous-green unit symbols, each representing a rifle platoon or smaller unit. If a unit was stationary, the symbol remained illuminated; when the unit changed location by a hundred meters, the symbol flashed momentarily.
Hewson tapped on a unit symbol on the touch screen with his finger, and the unit designator and latest strength report came up on the screen. Alpha Company; they should be moving by now.
"Get on the hook and find out what Alpha's problem is," Hewson barked. "Tell them to get moving."
With rapid ease he "zoomed" down in scale from 1:100,000 to 1:25,000 and centered the screen on Bravo Company's zone. Hewson prided himself on his computer literacy; no lance corporal computer operator necessary for this old battalion commander, he mused. Hewson was always amazed at the quality of detail on the map at that scale; it was practically as if he were there. That was the old squad leader in him coming out. He tapped on the symbol of Bravo's second platoon as it inched north on the screen.
No, they should turn right at that draw, he said to himself. That draw's a perfect avenue of approach. Where the hell are they going? Don't they teach terrain appreciation anymore at The Basic School?
"Get Bravo on the line," he barked. "Tell them I want second platoon to turn right and head northeast up that draw. Now. And tell them first platoon needs to move up about 200 yards; they're out of alignment."
Satisfied that everything was under control in Bravo's zone, Hewson scrolled over to check on Charlie Company. Back when he was a young corporal, some 22 years ago, this technology didn't exist. It was amazing how much easier command and control was today compared to his old squad leader days, how much more control there was now. He wondered if the junior Marines realized just how lucky they were.
0622 Tuesday: Second Lieutenant Rick Connors was feeling anything but lucky. Just past the mouth of a draw, he angrily signaled for second platoon to halt. Company was on the radio, barking about something. He was wet, he was cold; his rain top had somehow sprung a leak, and a stream of icy water poured down his spine. And on top of everything else, now this.
"Come again?" he said to his radio operator.
"Sir, Hotel-3-Mike says we're supposed to turn right and head up this draw," LCpl Baker repeated.
Damn PLRS, Connors cursed to himself. He had never actually seen a PLRS, that venerable piece of equipment having been replaced by a newer, lighter generation of position-locating system which attached to any field radio and sent an updated position report every time the transmit button was cued. But like all the more experienced Marines, he insisted on calling the new equipment by the old name.
"Up that draw," Connors repeated, as if to convince himself he had heard correctly.
"Hotel-3-Mike says it's an excellent avenue of approach, sir," Baker reported dutifully.
Connors studied the impenetrable web of thorny, interlocking undergrowth in the draw and snorted scornfully. Maybe on somebody's computer screen it is, he thought. But on the ground it's not. Somebody at battalion must have his map on 1:25,000 again. So much for the decentralized mission control they told us about at TBS. What do they even need lieutenants for if they're going to try to control us like puppets? He despised the prospect of hacking his way through the thick brush of the draw, especially when first squad had spotted what looked like an excellent concealed avenue of approach not 200 yards ahead. Of course, if he followed instructions, higher headquarters would be squawking about his slow rate of advance—there were no thickets of pricker bushes on a computer map. He could just imagine the radio message: "What's taking you so long, 3-Mike-2? It's only an inch on the map." And if he chose the other route they'd be on him in no time about disobeying orders. He cursed the PLRS again. But then he decided it wasn't the PLRS that was the problem; it was the way it was being used.
1118 Tuesday: A section of SuperCobra Ills churned through the driving rain on its way back to the abandoned high school campus that served as an expeditionary airfield, returning from an uneventful scouting mission.
"I'll tell you what, skipper," 1stLt Howard Coble said from the front seat of the lead helicopter, "this soup isn't getting any better."
In fact, it was getting considerably worse, Capt Jim Knutsen decided as he piloted the buffeting attack helicopter. A squall was moving back in. Goo at 500 feet, visibility down inside a mile and worsening.
"I'm glad I'm not those poor bastards," Coble said, indicating a mechanized column on the muddy trail below them to starboard.
"You got that right," Knutsen said, not paying much attention.
Until Coble cursed sharply.
"Those aren't ours," Coble said. "Take a look, skipper. BMPs, T-80s."
Coble was dead right. What they were looking at was an enemy mechanized column, Knutsen guessed, of at least battalion strength. Probably more. His first instinct was to make a run at the column, but his intuition told him otherwise. Something was not right. Knutsen banked the Cobra away sharply to avoid detection, and his wingman followed.
What's wrong with this picture? Knutsen said to himself. The mission briefing had said nothing about enemy mechanized forces anywhere near this vicinity. The enemy had apparently used the cover of the bad weather to move a sizable force undetected through a supposed "no-go" area into the division's zone. Knutsen was familiar enough with the ground scheme of maneuver to know instantly that this unexpected presence posed a serious threat to the upcoming operation. We got ourselves a major problem. These guys are not supposed to be here.
His wingman's voice crackled over the radio: "Pikeman, did you see what I just saw at two o'clock?" "Roger, Sylvester."
"We need to let DASC know about this," Coble said on the intercom.
Knutsen considered the problem. Reporting the sighting to the direct air support center would, of course, be the standard course. But because of the weather, they'd had trouble talking to the DASC all day; they couldn't get high enough to get a straight shot. In these conditions, he figured they were nearly a half hour from the field. And when he finally got the message through, he could imagine the path the information would take from the DASC before it reached the units at the front—and that was provided they even believed such an unlikely report. DASC hell, we need to tell the guys on the ground, he thought. They might like to know about an enemy mech column driving straight through the middle of the MEF's zone. Forget normal channels. Unfortunately he had no call signs or frequencies for any of the local ground units.
"Howie, find me some friendlies on the ground," he said. He radioed his wingman with his plan.
"Got somebody, skipper," Coble said shortly. "AAV in the tree line at nine o'clock. Got it?"
"Roger, I'm setting down."
1132 Tuesday: You got to be crazy to be flying in this weather, Capt Ed Takashima said to himself when he heard the sound of approaching helicopter rotors. He was twice amazed to see the Cobra appear low over the trees and settle into the clearing not a hundred yards away while its partner circled overhead. He hopped down from his AAV and jogged out into the clearing to meet the Marine emerging from the cockpit and was three-times astonished to recognize him as an old Amphibious Warfare School classmate.
"Knut-case," he said, pumping his friend's hand enthusiastically. "I should have known nobody else would be crazy enough to fly in this stuff. What the hell are you doing here?"
Knutsen quickly explained the situation and, when he was finished and saw Takashima's expression, said: "Don't look at me like I'm crazy, Tak."
Anybody else Takashima would have thought was crazy—or else completely lost—but not Knutsen. He had known Knutsen too long for that. Knutsen was too squared away.
"Give me your map, I'll show you," Knutsen said. "We're right here, right? And the enemy is right there, heading in this direction," jabbing the map and tracing the enemy movement.
As Knutsen had begun to diagram the enemy move, Takashima was already considering the situation. With all the sensors and satellites and reconnaissance assets that support a MEF, Takashima wondered, how does an enemy mechanized battalion drive through the middle of our sector without being detected? He remembered reading something somewhere about uncertainty being a pervasive attribute of war. Chalk one up to Clausewitz's "fog of war," Takashima decided. Of course, Takashima knew, since it was a "no-go" area—and that meant that somebody up the chain had looked at the terrain and decided it was impassable—it would remain relatively unobserved. But how it had happened didn't matter: it had happened. What to do about it? That was the problem. Six or seven clicks, tops, he thought, looking at the map. Not much time. This changed everything. The original battalion plan would have to be scrapped; it was as simple as that. Takashima recognized that his original mission was overcome by events. He made his decision. The situation called for quick thinking, and quicker action. The objectives might change, but the overall aim remained the same. The ultimate object, Takashima knew, was to locate the main enemy force and attack to, destroy it. That could still be the object; it would just have to happen a lot farther south than had been planned. If the battalion could make a 90-degree left turn in time, they might just pull it off. Now if he could just get battalion to go along with it .... he needed to talk to the battalion commander.
Knutsen had finished tracing the enemy movement, and his finger rested on the map, pointing at a small town called Culverin Crossroads.
"That's it then," Takashima said. "Culverin Crossroads."
"I hear you, Tak," Knutsen said. "You're thinking of |hat West Africa map ex we did last year at AWS, aren't you? The one where we wheeled the whole regiment and took the red force in the flank."
"Yeah, that's the one," Takashima said.
"What the hell; let's do it. I got enough fuel for maybe one pass. You want me to work them over, or don't you want them to know that we're on to them?"
"Let's wait and surprise them. Can you bring back some friends?"
What a kick, Knutsen thought. A couple of captains standing in the middle of a muddy field in a downpour working out the beginnings of a major operation. It reminded him of playing pick-up football as a kid and drawing improvised plays in the dirt.
"We'll be here," he said with a grin. "You'll recognize me—I'll be the one in front."
"See you then, Knut-case," Takashima said.
They shook hands, and Knutsen climbed back into the cockpit.
"Olsen!" Takashima bellowed at his radioman. "Try to get me battalion. I need to talk to the colonel direct."
1310 Tuesday: "General, the latest weather pictures are coming in," the lance corporal reported, the note of anxiousness unmistakable in his voice.
MajGen Harry Vanderwood doubted if there was a single Marine anywhere in the wing who did not recognize the significance that attached to the latest forecasts.
"I'll be right there, Marine," he replied.
No sooner had Vanderwood arrived in the tactical air command center than the MEF commander bustled in unannounced as he had a disconcerting habit of doing. You never knew when he was going to show up, or where, Vanderwood mused. Wing commander or mechanic on the flight line, you were never safe.
"Have you gotten the latest on the situation, Harry?" the MEF commander asked.
"As of the last 15 minutes, general," Vanderwood replied. "Not that I'm any smarter than I was before. I'd still like to know what the hell is going on."
"That makes two of us. I'd like to talk to those Cobra pilots myself."
"It's being arranged, general. They managed to take off on another sortie before we could grab them. Under terrible conditions, I might add. When they get back, I'm either going to give them a medal or a butt-chewing; probably both."
The MEF commander grunted. "How's the weather looking?" he asked.
"We're just in the process of pulling down the latest pictures from the weather satellite," Vanderwood said.
A large-scale map of the area of operations appeared on the large screen, color-coded to illustrate the precipitation forecast.
"No good news there," Vanderwood said. "Let's take a look at the incoming weather."
A broader map, much like a weather map on a television newscast, appeared on the screen. Heavy white blotches swept sputteringly across the screen from left to right.
"Freeze it right there," Vanderwood said, and the image stopped moving. "Good. That could be the break we're looking for. I figure in about 90 minutes we'll be able to get something going. If this pattern holds, I plan to blot out the sun—what little sun there might be—with aircraft by 1500. Now all we need is to know what we're going to be attacking.
"How about cueing up the MEF situation package, and we'll see if we can't make some sense of this," the MEF commander said. "And see if we can get General Bishop on teleconference."
"Somebody ask the Top to come over here," Vanderwood said, meaning the intelligence chief.
"General, the division commander's away from the CP, but we're setting up video with the chief of staff," a Marine reported.
"Very well," the MEF commander said. He fully expected Bishop to be away from the command post; in fact, the division command post was the last place he'd expect to find the division commander in the middle of a battle.
The computer operator, Cpl Beale Davis, tapped quickly on his keyboard, and the wall-sized screen blinked, the weather map replaced by a situation map of the MEF's area of operations. From the menu across the top of the screen, he opened a "conference" window, and the division chief of staff appeared in a live video feed.