Delta Force (14 page)

EIGHTEEN

THE GREATEST DANGER
, in this kind of situation, is that one may get caught in a hostile or indifferent environment. I had asked the question, “Where does this unit belong?” This was during the second TRADOC briefing at Fort Monroe. General DePuy had replied that it should fit, he felt, under Special Forces. I wasn't sure this was appropriate. He'd said, “Well, initially, let's do it and then maybe down the road we'll move it.” That meant there would be problems caused by jealousy. Had Kingston stayed, then maybe; but with Jack Mackmull, who knew what to expect? During the briefing in the Pentagon I'd carefully watched him. I never thought he focused long enough on any of the slides to get their meanings. I felt “This guy may not understand what he's hearing and he may not think it will ever happen.”

Mackmull had played football at West Point. In spite of this, if you were to put a white beard on him he'd look like Santa Claus. He was prudent and businesslike and wanted everyone to like him. He went out of his way to be nice to others. At the Academy his nickname had been “Bobo.”

When he came in and took command of JFK Center, I went over and briefed him on the activities of the school. I stuck the fire hose down his throat and gave him the whole nine yards. He didn't know anything about Special Forces. He'd commanded helicopter units in 'Nam. “You know, Charlie, when I was at Can Tho, I supported Special Forces a lot, so I got a pretty good feel for them.” He'd flown into Can Tho
and had gone over to the Special Forces headquarters where he'd probably had a beer with the guys; so he knew what they looked like and what kinds of weapons they carried, but this is no way of getting a feel for what they could or could not do. I thought to myself, Oh, my God!

When I'd finished the briefing on the school, I brought him up to date on my newest activity. I showed him the proposed TO&E and the budget which had been worked up with the Fort Bragg comptroller people. We grossly underestimated the budget, because at the time I was afraid that if Delta carried too big a price tag we'd scare the Army off—but it was better than nothing. I told General Mackmull I planned on taking everything up to the Pentagon. He didn't look at my table of organization or my figures. He wasn't interested. “Fine,” he said, “you take them on up.” I did, however, get permission to use Special Forces School money to cover my expenses. Remember, this new unit had no money, no authority, no nothing. It wasn't even established on paper. We had only the results of a decision briefing and a name, Delta.

After General Meyer had reviewed my paperwork, indicated we were on track, and told me he'd pass it on to General Rogers for his approval, I began to look around for some more people to join Chuck Odorizzi, Buckshot, and me. I received approval to employ Maj. Curt Hurst. Shortly afterward he became Delta's first operations officer. But what I really needed was a sergeant major. Actually I'd found him, his nickname was “Country,” and it was a matter of getting him away from the Special Forces School where he worked.

Country was a tall, raw-boned, very strong man who'd come out of the coal mines of western Pennsylvania. He was a hard man, articulate, and, unlike Buckshot, laid back and unemotional. His strengths were loyalty, intelligence, and experience. He approached problems dispassionately and impartially.

General Mackmull, for the moment caught up in our enthusiasm, let me have him on temporary duty. He also let me have two little buildings the Special Forces School wasn't using. These buildings were vintage World War II, needed a lot
of paint, and, if the truth be known, were ready to be torn down. Mackmull's enthusiasm had its limits.

The month of June went by. I heard nothing from General Rogers or General Meyer. July went by and still no word arrived from the Pentagon. I was formulating plans, making overtures, and, frankly, spending more time in the Delta arena than I was in School business.

Sometime later I found out from an old acquaintance of mine, a lieutenant colonel who worked in General Meyer's office, what had become of my TO&E and budget. He told me that General Meyer passed them up to the Chief of Staff's office where they stayed a couple of days. Then Rogers had them sent back to Meyer. My source explained that Meyer had three boxes on his desk. An “in” box an “out” box, and a “too hard” box. When Rogers sent my papers back to Meyer, he had attached a short note, “Shy, please see me.” So, Meyer thought there was something wrong and put the papers in his “too hard” box until he could figure out what to do. Meanwhile, I was getting antsy and nervous at Fort Bragg. I don't know if it would have made me feel better or worse knowing my papers were sitting in the “too hard” box.

Days had gone by, then weeks, now months. Finally, I had to do something. Anything. I went to see General Mackmull. This was in August.

“You know, it's very difficult for me to do two jobs and do them right. It's not fair to the school. I'd like you to consider finding someone else to run the school and let me get on full time with this Delta business.”

“I'm not convinced in my own mind, Charlie, that this Delta thing is going to get off the ground. I think if it was, we would have heard by now. I'll consider relieving you as you request, but I can't guarantee you a job if Delta collapses.”

“I'll take that risk, sir.”

I submitted some recommendations for my replacement and began working on Delta full time. This also meant I could worry full time. My frustration level had reached my ears. I couldn't get anything moving. General Mackmull had gone as far as he could in giving me Buckshot, Odorizzi, Hurst, and
Country. He didn't have the authority to give me any funds. Delta couldn't move without written authority from Department of the Army.

I remembered what Bob Kingston had told me about being smart. I made another left-end run. Instead of writing a normal letter that should have gone through General Mackmull at JFK Center, then to XVIII Airborne Corps, then to FORSCOM, then to the Pentagon, I wrote directly to General Meyer and had the letter delivered by safe hands.

On a Friday evening in mid-September, the telephone in my home rang. The call was from one of General Meyer's administrative aides. “Charlie, the General asked me to tell you that the package you sent has been approved and you better come up here and get the wheels moving.” I was so excited I couldn't talk.

Monday morning General Meyer told me, “Start framing the necessary documentation for my deputy, General Snippens, and his staff. We need to determine the total number of personnel spaces required and where these will come from. Also, we need to determine your funding. Take the TO&E down to TRADOC and get it approved.” I began to learn. “There are people in this building, Charlie, you should talk to. Find out how the Ranger Battalions were activated, find out the mechanics necessary to activate a new unit within the Army structure. Go downstairs and get to work.”

In the Army it's spaces, not faces, that are crucial. Because the Congress puts a manpower ceiling on the Army, there is no magic drawer in Department of the Army where you reach in and pull out spaces. They have to come from trade-offs. The Army might be in the process of establishing another new unit and cut from it a specific number of spaces. Or, there may be a unit on the rolls that doesn't have sufficient personnel to fill its spaces. There might also be a unit the Army has recently reorganized and some extra spaces surface which can be used by someone else. Personnel spaces to a new unit are almost as critical as funding. Delta Force received its spaces from various recently reorganized units and from another one unable to recruit the necessary personnel to fill its organization.

Planning and activating a new unit in the Army force structure is necessarily a difficult task. It's a big business with built-in checks and balances; and it requires expertise. The Pentagon was pretty much an unknown territory for me. I lacked a chart showing where the power bases were. These I'd have to find for myself. The CSA approval of the Delta concept was no more than a key that opened the door to the Army's structure and its bureaucracy. Without the necessary maps, blueprints, diagrams, dictionaries, and schematics, the key would mean nothing. It was easy to get lost in the labyrinth that lay open to Delta. I located officers who could assist me and they sent me on to other people and to other offices. I walked down all the halls and around all the rings asking questions of anyone who could help. General Snippens and his staff pitched in and offered assistance and support. There was more than a month of walking, getting lost, being put back on the proper path, stepping off again, being put back on; of talking, arguing, cajoling, fighting. Spaces and funding. Funding and spaces.

Slowly I began to fill in the chart, the deep water and reefs were marked, so were the lagoons and safe anchorages. I learned that General Meyer had not merely given me a ring. It was, in fact, a golden ring. In his wisdom General Meyer gave Delta a high-priority unit status. To get it he had to have it justified and approved by a specific section in Department of the Army. Without it the lines would have been endless.

Equipment was a good example of how high-priority status worked. A list was drawn up of what we thought Delta would need: transportation, arms and ammunition, communications, office equipment, and uniforms. The questions began. How many do you need? What kind? What model? Who has them? Can they be borrowed, bought, leased, or transferred? When you have what you need, who will maintain it? How will you account for it? When will you need to replace or upgrade it?

Ammunition. “What will it cost?” “Can you get it cheaper?” “Can you use less of it?” “Where is it located?” “How will you move it from here to there?” “How will you reorder?” “How will you pay?” “Can you use this instead?” Without a
high-priority status Delta would still be waiting in line outside the Depot Supply Office.

Money. The unit was funded in a unique manner. The money flow went directly from an operating agency in Department of the Army to Delta. I'd learned in Vietnam that straight lines were best. There I'd seen how a program had been funded by the Navy directly out of CINCPAC, and how other paramilitary programs had been financed directly from the CIA. The key to funding was not having to rely on money that reached you through layers of bureaucracy. That way there is a good chance every level of command above you through which your money must travel will hold out a certain percentage for unforeseen events. What you finally receive will not match what you were given; the difference ends up in various other units' budget accounts. Very carefully, we structured our funding channels directly from Washington to Delta—not Fort Bragg. Money gave Delta autonomy and autonomy is what Delta needed.

There were many irons in the fire and there were some mistakes made. “You're piecemealing us to death, Charlie.” This from the comptroller shop in Department of the Army who had come down to Bragg to straighten out some of Delta's eccentricities. “How about sitting down, taking the time, and figuring out what you need and coming to us once.” This seemed fair. “Tell us Delta's billet requirements, tell us its range requirements, its logistical requirements. Put a dollar price on all of it. But do it once, not once every week. We don't care what it is, but give us your best shot.”

The necessary paperwork to launch Delta took hours, days, weeks, to manufacture. Nothing happened without it. Sometimes it seemed the more the better: weight seemed more important than quality. General Snippens, for example, before he did anything, needed justification for doing it. He didn't invent the system, but the system existed and it needed to be stroked. With Majors Odorizzi and Hurst, I wrote hundreds of papers. When we weren't writing, we were talking. Whenever someone had to make a big decision, when a trade-off was complicated or someone didn't like giving up funds, an
appointment had to be made to see General Meyer. A talking paper is prepared. It goes up to his horse-holder (executive officer). Meyer is filled in. Another meeting is scheduled, there is a wait, then the briefing, then another wait, then a decision. Very bureaucratic up there. But it's the only way the system will work.