Delta Force (15 page)

Delta began to bulge at the seams. Suddenly there was no more space in our original location to put all the matériel that had been ordered and now began to arrive. General Mackmull talked to the Corps commander, General Warner, and Delta was told to find three alternative locations on the post to which it might shift its activities.

Our first choice had already been located—the Fort Bragg Stockade. It was large, isolated from the rest of the post, and surrounded as it was by a double-chain-linked fence topped with barbed wire, secure.

In the event the Stockade was not available, our second choice was some building being used by the ROTC (Reserved Officers Training Corps).

The third option, and one down at the bottom of the list, was a group of World War II buildings which were located in the 82nd Airborne's area and in close proximity to the post's drug rehabilitation clinic.

General Mackmull didn't know whether the Stockade would be available or not, but he would do some checking. Days went by, then a week. The answer came back. “The Stockade is out of the question!”

We started looking very hard at the ROTC buildings. Meeting after meeting was held. Finally, Mackmull recommended I see Brig. Gen. James J. Lindsay, the XVIII Airborne Corps' chief of staff. Lindsay said, “Colonel Beckwith, this doesn't make any sense to me. Here we've got a nice Stockade facility where we're keeping eleven bad buys. On the other hand, you want to use it with a bunch of good buys. Why don't we take the eleven and put them downtown in the Fayetteville jail? Your use of the Stockade is better than the use it's being put to now. Colonel, you've got it!” I was impressed. I said to myself, This general will never get promoted again. He's too
practical. He solved my moving problems in less than four minutes.

Delta's future headquarters, the Fort Bragg Stockade, covered about nine acres of fenced-in real estate. The concrete building itself is a long corridor from which various wings or blocks extend on either side—six major ones in all. Most of these long wings contained beds which had been secured to the cement floors. One of our first jobs was to saw the beds off the floors.

The one wing containing maximum security cells we converted to an ammo and explosives holding area as well as a place to keep our most sensitive documents. Each troop would also be given two cells each for their weapons storage. Within another wing, the squadrons would designate an area for each troop to keep anything else they wished. These bays were always kept very neatly and usually reflected the personality of the troop that used them. There were lockers and occasionally a refrigerator with the hand-printed sign: “The brew is 25¢. Please deposit your money in the cup.” The troop bays, to my knowledge, never displayed pinups. More often you'd see a photograph clipped from a newspaper or magazine, which showed a recent terrorist incident.

The mess facility was excellent. The prisoners at Fort Bragg had obviously eaten well. Operations and Intelligence shared a wing which they quickly outgrew. Selection and Training had its own area. The Stockade's theater and chapel, with a little construction, were turned into a briefing or conference room and a classroom. The old admissions office was taken over by the headquarters staff, and it was in this area that Country and I had our offices.

I wanted the outside of the Stockade to be tidy and reflect some of the smartness I'd found years before in the SAS camp at Bradbury Lines. A royal blue canvas awning was eventually hung over the front entrance. Because I am very partial to roses, I saw to it that a large rose garden was planted on either side of the path that led from the fence gate to the Stockade's entrance. Roses of every color and variety would eventually grow there—French Lace, All-American, Seashell, Dainty
Bess, Lady X—and although it was the subject of some joking, the garden eventually earned the unit a lot of pin money. We cleaned up on Mother's Day.

It also surprised many of our first-time visitors. They would tell us, “Coming from Washington to Bragg we expected to see you snake eaters swinging from trees, but this garden…” General Meyer said on his first visit, “You're beginning to get there. The place looks nice.”

Although Delta now had a headquarters it could call home, I continued to spend much of my time in the Pentagon. It was there that most of my work needed to be done and the people I had to see were located.

On one such day, typical in every respect—it was the middle of October 1977, work was unexpectedly interrupted. People began to talk about some place called Mogadishu. We looked it up. It was in Somalia. A German commercial airliner had been hijacked and flown there. The story came in slowly off the wire all day. Finally, a West German counterterrorist unit called GSG-9 (Grenzschutzgruppe 9) had stormed the plane, overwhelmed the terrorists, and released the passengers. In the Pentagon that day, the shit just hit the fan. I knew there was a meeting going on in “the tank” of the JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff) and lots of people kept running back and forth. I was sitting in my office. Tom Owen, who worked for Snippens, rushed in, “What do you know about GSG-9? A lot of people are asking questions.” I didn't know much. SAS, yes, but not that much about the West Germans. I thought they were a police unit and not military. Owen asked, “Do you know what a ‘flash-bang' is?”

“Of course.”

“Whew! I'm glad, because they asked and I said if anyone in the building would know it was Charlie Beckwith. He wants to see you.”

“Who?”

“General Rogers.”

I'd never even been inside his office. When I got there it was about what I expected from the Chief of Staff of the Army. It was so neat and tidy and clean that if a fly had dared
enter and settled on the wall it would have fallen off and skinned its ass.

A flash-bang has certain concussive, nonlethal properties, which I described to General Rogers. I had first been introduced to them in England. As a matter of fact, the German assault force that had used them had gotten them from 22 SAS. When I finished, General Rogers told me of a note from the President. It had surfaced in the tank earlier in the day and asked, “Do we have the same capability as the West Germans?” Much discussion had ensued before it was decided we did not. One of the generals present had said, “Well, I'm not going over to the White House and tell them we don't.” General Rogers then informed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of his earlier decision to activate an elite unit whose mission was to combat terrorism. General Rogers seemed very happy to be telling this story and further informed me that it had been decided that the Army would be the prime mover in this effort. The Joint Chiefs of Staff had felt that since the Army had been doing more in this area than any other service it should handle it.

“The ball is squarely in my court,” said General Rogers. “Where are we?”

Delta's status was explained to him. He turned to General Meyer, who had just walked in, “Why are we so far behind on this? I approved that paper months ago.” He didn't know about the “too hard” box. General Meyer replied, “We haven't really lost any time. Oh, the paper got held up a little bit. Charlie, we haven't lost any time have we?”

“We can make it up,” I replied. “No problem.”

Then General Rogers asked, “Do you really think we can do this?”

“We can,” I replied, “but I'm going to need some help.” I pointed out to General Rogers that what we really needed was help in locating good people, and if he could occasionally check in to this vital area we'd stay on track. He readily agreed to do so.

Afterward, General Meyer was euphoric. Not only did we
now have the CSA's blessing, but his active participation as well.

When I returned in December from a visit to Europe—which allowed me to look over GSG-9 and touch base again with the SAS—a trip on which I was accompanied by General Mackmull, I learned that there were some top secret messages awaiting me at the JFK Center. One of them was dated 19 November 1977, and was the authority to activate Delta. It outlined the unit's mission, its structure, and its high-priority status. Much of the order's language was familiar, as it paraphrased an earlier activation order I had been asked to write.

Unfortunately, some of it was very unfamiliar: to my great discomfort, I learned Delta's command and control mechanism would fall under Forces Command (FORSCOM). This was a very poor arrangement indeed and if allowed to stand could kill the concept we had fought so hard to sell. In other words, there was Delta. Then immediately above it in the table of organization was JFK Center and General Mackmull; above them XVIII Airborne Corps and General Warner: above them FORSCOM and General Kroesen; above them Department of the Army and General Rogers. Laid out on a blackboard, it looked like the schematic for a Chinese fire drill.

If there was anything I had learned in my year with 22 SAS it was that the chain of command for this type of unit needed to be clean and direct. It tore me up. Terrorist situations come down hard and they come down suddenly. There is precious little time to wade through paperwork, or climb up a bureaucratic ladder.

I had been under the impression that Delta would be activated directly under Department of the Army. Now I read that General Kroesen would be responsible and I knew he would ask General Warner over at XVIII Airborne Corps to watch over Mackmull and me. A very fit general officer and a West Pointer, Volney Warner was, like General Meloy, a Sterling Silver Ranger. This could only mean trouble. I suspected he wasn't convinced that Delta was necessary, and I knew he wasn't one of our biggest fans. Warner appeared to me to be
egotistical and selfish. Now he was going to be breathing down Delta's young neck.

I became very unhappy and couldn't figure out how to get out of the corner into which Delta had been painted. I shouldn't have worried, because it got worse.

General Jack Hennessey was a little bent out of shape. We shouldn't have had a problem with him, but we did. And the problem was serious. The order activating 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment–Delta had been sent to every major command that had a need to know, including REDCOM (Readiness Command), which has its headquarters in Tampa, Florida. Under a counterterrorist contingency plan, which had been formulated in 1976, REDCOM and its commander, General Hennessey, were responsible for testing and then moving counterterrorist forces from the continental United States to the various unified command areas located throughout the world. General Hennessey was upset because he had not been informed of the Army's plan for Delta, or the JCS meeting that had given Delta and General Rogers its blessing. It hadn't taken much time for General Hennessey, once he'd received Delta's activation orders, to call General Mackmull and ask him to come to Tampa and brief him.

Mackmull grabbed me and we flew down to present the same brief that had been given to General Rogers. After we had finished, General Hennessey looked squarely at me, “I want to make it very clear to you, Colonel, that if something of a terrorist nature goes down in my area of responsibility, and I'm directed to respond, I'm going to call you!”

“Well,” I said, “that won't do you any good, because I don't have anybody at this time. We're just getting started, sir. It's going to take two years to build this force.”

He didn't even pay attention. “You weren't listening, Colonel. If I have a problem, I'm going to call you!” He was dead serious.

On the airplane ride back to Bragg, General Mackmull was distressed. “Charlie, I've got to do something. In the event something goes down and I'm called, I've got to have a response.” A few days later he was still concerned. “Look, Charlie,
I'm very worried about this requirement of General Hennessey's. It could become real. Here's what I propose. Go through the 5th and 7th Special Forces groups and see if you can come up with a unit that can bridge the gap until Delta's ready. If you don't want to do this, or can't do it, I'll find someone else. I'll also talk to Bob Mountel.” Colonel Mountel was the commander of the 5th Special Forces Group.

I discussed Mackmull's plan with my three majors, Odorizzi, Buckshot, and Hurst, and we agreed it was not a prudent course for me to follow. There just wasn't going to be enough time to run two units.

When I saw General Mackmull again, I told him we felt we couldn't do two things at once and do them well. This made Bob Mountel very happy. Mountel was never without a pipe, and his teeth were worn and discolored because of it. He was also in the habit of carrying gloves, which gave him the nickname “Black Gloves.”

General Mackmull gave Colonel Mountel the task of creating a unit to breach the short-term gap that now existed. But Bob Mountel didn't see it that way. He wanted to prove that the Special Forces community could establish an antiterrorist force quicker, better, and cheaper than Department of the Army. Bob Mountel saw he had to work very, very hard—and he had to put Charlie Beckwith out of business.

NINETEEN

ASSESSING THE RIGHT
people, then selecting and training them, was the key to success for Delta. If the financial and personnel sides of the business can be worked out, other things will normally fall into line.

Because the Army consists of so many people, personnel management is complicated. We were now going to ask the Army to manage Delta differently than in a normal unit. The norm is to put personnel records into a computer: who you are, where you are, where you've been, what you've done—everything, practically down to your shoe size. This wouldn't work for Delta. Because of the security that needed to be maintained, it was not a good idea to have Delta's personnel records so easily retrievable.

I went to see Maj. Gen. Charles K. Heiden at the personnel center (MILPERCEN) in Arlington, Virginia. We asked him how to limit access to Delta's personnel to only “need to know” people. He had some experience handling Army intelligence personnel under a different system and didn't see this as any problem. We would be taken care of not by computers but by three or four people who used stubby pencils. “We'll find a way to keep you out of sight. I understand how important it is. I've just finished reading
The Man Called Intrepid
,” and he gave me a knowing wink.

One of my major fears, one I discussed with General Heiden, was being too far out of sight, especially at promotion time. I felt that if Delta's people were not in the computer,
they might be overlooked! But I was assured that out of sight did not mean lost or ignored. General Heiden's people really got on board and helped. One important way was by finding a cover name for Delta that could be used when we did want to disappear. When Delta's people wrote checks, for example, there was no reason to see a Delta endorsement on them; or if one of the troops wanted to build a house and he needed a loan, when the bank did a credit check on him, they shouldn't come nosing around Delta.

Another way General Heiden helped was in ferreting out good people for us to look at. Everyone in the Army knows commanders who have good soldiers rathole them away. Any good officer will do this and so would I, and did many times. Poaching is never appreciated. General Heiden and his computers could help Delta locate these hidden caches of men.

I'm sure General Rogers, following through on his promise to check into personnel for us, did a lot of good. Still, I'm convinced that General Heiden and his staff, without any nudging from above, would have helped us any way they could.

At this juncture Lt. Col. Dick Potter joined Delta's staff as my deputy. Like Kingston, Dick had been an exchange officer with the British paras. A man who likes good food, he occasionally had trouble with his weight. Because of a severe leg wound he suffered in 'Nam, on cold damp days Dick would walk with a slight gimp. However, if there was someone important around, no matter how dank the weather, Dick would suck in the pain and walk perfectly. Along with having a fine combat record, he was a good detail man who knew how to wade into issues and come out with a workable solution. Moreover, he wasn't a “yes” man. Dick concerned himself with getting the job done and not with winning friends or playing politics.

One of the first things he did was attend and referee a meeting which tried to determine how we recruited people. Initially, we were prepared to look over the whole Army. Then someone said. “Why don't you recruit just out of the infantry?” We almost got pushed into that single area, but I knew
the British SAS had found its people in the Guards Regiments, the Parachute Regiment, the Royal Horse Artillery, the Royal Highland Fusiliers, the Royal Engineers—anywhere, as a matter of fact, where good men were. That's what Delta needed to do. It didn't make any difference where the volunteer came from or what he did, as long as he was willing, fit, and trainable. He needed, in other words, to be special.

Meanwhile, Bob Mountel had selected forty or so men from the Special Forces community, dubbed his unit Blue Light, and was in business.

Pressure began to build for Delta to get a selection course under way. Rumors flew around Bragg. “Beckwith's putting together something along the SAS lines.” It wasn't a long time before a number of volunteers had come over, “Charlie, how do we get here? What should we do?”

A letter was sent to General Mackmull requesting his permission to recruit people from the 5th and 7th Special Forces groups and from the 10th, which was up in Massachusetts at Fort Devens. “If I let you do that,” he replied, “you'll decimate the groups.”

I was looking for only thirty or thirty-five men to start with. From the people who'd come and volunteered we had collected a list of 150 or so. Many of them we knew from Vietnam. From this list we figured we could burp out thirty. We needed men who were trainable, because they would be the ones who'd run the selection courses and later do part of the assessing. Without an initial cadre to conduct the courses, Delta wouldn't have anything.

Mackmull finally relented and at first, before he realized the scope and magnitude of the recruitment plans, let us run through the first selection course thirty men from the Special Forces community.

Chuck Odorizzi and Buckshot helped me plan the course. Buckshot was especially helpful. He had returned from going through the SAS selection course, where he'd done well. So well that the SAS commander told me, “If you don't want this bloke, send him back.”

The thirty volunteers were first required to successfully
complete a demanding physical training test. The test consisted of six events that had to be completed within a designated period. A minimum of sixty points for each event had to be scored for the recruit to progress to the next test.

The recruits were required to perform: a forty-yard inverted crawl in twenty-five seconds; thirty-seven sit-ups and thirty-three push-ups, each in a minute; a run-dodge-jump course traversed in twenty-four seconds; a two-mile run completed in not more than sixteen minutes and thirty seconds; and, finally, a 100-meter lake swim in which the recruits were to be fully dressed, including jump boots.

The PT test eliminated several candidates. An eighteen-mile speed march further reduced the group to half its original size. These survivors were then expected to pass a selection course—right out of the SAS Training Manual—which had been set up, near Troy, North Carolina, in the Uwharrie National Forest.

The course, which each man was expected to run alone, carrying a 55-pound rucksack, extended over dense hardwood-covered mountains, crisscrossed by streams and rivers. Using a map and compass, the volunteer was ordered to go from one location to another, fast as he could; the time required to make the marches was never revealed. The terrain the men were made to march over was thickly wooded and sharply contoured.

At each rendezvous (RV) the recruit was told to march to another location, again as rapidly as he was able. This continued both day and night for an extended period of time. If a recruit should not make an RV in a prescribed amount of time, he was removed from the course and eventually shipped back to his old unit.

Survivors of the Uwharrie selection course then underwent careful psychological scrutiny and evaluation. A board was established consisting of Major Odorizzi, Major Buckshot, Sergeant Major Country, and me. An interview ran nearly four hours. I asked the Army for a psychologist and they began a search to find us one. In the meantime, we did the job.

“On a mission, you run across two little girls…” Some of
the questions that were asked had no right answers. The men were asked to reason and to think. We wanted to catch their values, find out what cranked their motors. We looked for loners, guys who could operate independently and in the absence of orders, men who had just half an ounce of paranoia.

They read Machiavelli and explained what they thought he was about. We asked them to expand on a story of three people who had fled on foot from Siberia and had eventually escaped into Tibet. “Comment on that adventure: what did the escapees do right, what did they do wrong, what would you have done?”

We drilled holes in these guys and it wasn't uncommon to have them break out in a sweat. Did we want this one or didn't we? What about this guy?

We asked him, “You've done very, very well. You're nearly through, most of your peers haven't made it, you're good. Now, tell us what you don't do well. What do you tend to screw up?” If a man answered, “I don't have any weaknesses,” we didn't take him.

We asked the finalists what they thought of President Truman firing General MacArthur during the Korean War, “Was it right or wrong? Why? What is your opinion?” Some of these men didn't know what we were talking about. I was shocked to discover our soldiers weren't well read.

Finally, we asked about skills. Could they repair an elevator, read a blueprint, rewire a house, survey a city block, memorize the contents of a museum? The Brits knew a lot of people could run up and down mountains and hit RV points, but that isn't what made them unique.

“Sergeant Jones, why should I take you? You did very well in the selection course. You really burned up those mountains. You looked good and did well. But now, you convince me on why I should take you. What have you got to offer?”

“Sir, I'm a good soldier.”

“Shit, I got a bunch of them. What do you do different? Do you drive an 18-wheeler?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know anything about dogs? Ever work with them?”

“Sir, I had a bird dog once.”

“Aw, shit, I'm talking about real canine dogs.”

“Ah, no, sir, no more than anybody else.”

“See, Sergeant, you really haven't told me anything. Think a few minutes and tell me some of your unique skills.”

PAUSE

“Sir, I'm pretty good with locks.”

“You are? How good are you?”

“I can pick 'em. I'm pretty good at that.”

“How good?”

“Call so-and-so and ask him.”

“I will. You're dismissed. We'll call you back later.”

We'd call his reference and find out if he was telling the truth. The board wasn't interested if he was not an expert. What we were looking for was flair. If the taxpayer's money was going to be spent sending some individual to school, he had to have an aptitude for that training. As a result of the first selection course, Delta kept seven people.

Along with this small cadre of potential instructors, we looked around for two civilians who could help us. Stability, knowledge, and institutional continuity was what the unit needed. The first civilian hired lived in Florida. Dick Meadows had recently retired after compiling a fine Special Forces record. He'd participated in the Son Tay raid. Dick had also been in the SAS exchange program and had married the daughter of an SAS sergeant major. When he agreed to come and help Delta, I felt we had plugged a big hole.

During this time Dick Potter continued to work on a recruitment profile. This profile was very complete and it really described the desired measurable characteristics of each recruit. As outlined by Potter, the volunteer had to meet the following prerequisites:

Besides being able to perform at top efficiency his MOS (Military Occupation Specialty), the recruit needed to be at least a Grade 5 on his second enlistment; have no limiting physical profile; be at least twenty-two years old and an American
citizen; have a GT score of 110 or higher; be able to pass a background security check; be able to pass a Modified Special Forces Physical Training Test and a physical examination; be airborne-qualified or volunteer for airborne training; have no recurring disciplinary offenses on his record; have two years active service remaining after assignment; and pass a formal selection course.

Our recruiters visited Benning and Knox, Sill and Hood, Leonard Wood and Ord, Carson and Lewis, Pope, Jackson, Belvoir, Meade, Riley, Stewart, and Devens. Back and forth they went, hitting nearly every Army post, camp, and station in this country. They went to the European command twice. It was a tough job. Having identified an individual was just the beginning of the process. We were, after all, looking for good people, and good people in the Army usually have choice jobs. We couldn't promise them much except a chance to have their lives made a lot harder.