The Great War of Our Time: The CIA's Fight Against Terrorism--From Al Qa'ida to ISIS (43 page)

* * *

Successfully dealing with the national security threats and challenges facing the United States also requires US leadership. No other country on the planet has the resources or the credibility to play that leadership role. American leadership is a necessary condition for mitigating the many threats and dealing with the many challenges we face. And policy-makers—most important the president and the leadership in Congress—have a responsibility to educate the American people on the threats and the important role required by the United States.

Policy-makers must approach the threats and challenges this country faces with the same sense of urgency as the officers I worked with from our Counterterrorism Center. There is a sign as you enter an important office in CIA’s Counterterrorism Center. The sign is a picture of the burning Twin Towers on 9/11, and there are words printed at the top. Those words are “Today is September 12, 2001.” That is the mind-set with which CTC does its job today and it is the mind-set with which CIA combats all the threats I just talked about.

And finally, we can only mitigate the threats facing us and deal with the challenges if we are strong as a nation, and we can be strong only if our political leaders make decisions that move our economy and our society forward. Because at the end of the day the most important determinant of a nation’s national security is the health of its economy and its society. That is why it is vital for our leaders
to come together, discuss the tough issues, compromise, and make decisions. Nothing is more important to our future security as a nation.

* * *

Let me come back to the two stories that opened the chapter. First, Steve and Kevin.

For his courageous actions on 9/11, Steve earned the Soldier’s Medal, the highest peacetime award for valor. In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, he became a casualty assistance officer, helping others through their times of grief. He continues to serve our country today at the Defense Intelligence Agency.

Following his recovery Kevin went on to serve on the 9/11 Commission, and he worked for CIA in our Counterterrorism Center, helping to keep our country safe from other attacks. He worked there until after Bin Ladin was brought to justice, and then he felt he could finally move on.

One more word about Kevin. In those early hours on September 11, the doctors were not sure Kevin would live. And for many months they were not sure that he would ever be able to have children. But Kevin and his wife eventually had three beautiful children, and, of course, they named their son Steve.

And finally, Father Mychal Judge, who, like Kevin and Steve, acted when he needed to act. On September 10, 2001, Mychal Judge gave his last sermon at the dedication of a renovated firehouse in New York City. He said,

That’s the way it is. Good days. And bad days. Up days. Down days. Sad days. Happy days. But never a boring day on the job. You do what God has called you to do. You show up. You put one foot in front of another. You get on the rig and you go out and you do the job—which is a mystery. And a surprise. You have no idea when you get on that rig. No matter how big the call. No matter how small. You have no idea what God is calling you to do. But he needs you. He needs me. He needs all of us.

Father Mychal, Kevin, and Steve. I believe that all three were heroes, that all three are true leaders, and that the actions of all three speak to us about the importance of the United States’s taking a leadership role in the world to deal with the very difficult issues that we are facing today, and will continue to face for a long time to come.

CHAPTER 14

Carved in Stone

I
worked for the Central Intelligence Agency for thirty-three years. From day one I was motivated by the mission of the Agency—keeping the country safe—and that motivation only grew over time as the significance of what I was doing expanded. I was also driven by the dedication of the men and women who undertook the task of keeping the country safe each and every day. Early in the morning, around seven a.m., almost half of the Agency’s parking lot is already filled. And late into the evening, at seven p.m., still half of the parking lot is filled. I had officers turn down well-deserved promotions or spend months from away their families and friends because they were so committed to a particular operation or initiative.

I have never worked with more dedicated people. People frequently ask me about specific movies and television series about the Agency. “Is
Homeland
real?” they ask. “Did
Zero Dark Thirty
get the story right?” My answer is always the same: “No, not really, with one exception, and that exception is the passion that CIA officers bring to the job.” I usually explain that the passion for getting the job done that is demonstrated, for example, by the character Carrie in
Homeland
or Maya in
Zero Dark Thirty
is a dead-on accurate portrayal
of the passion of many CIA officers, particularly those who work in our Counterterrorism Center.

That dedication, I think, was captured simply and beautifully in the written answer to a question on a job application by the son of one of the finest scientists in the history of CIA. The question was “If you had the opportunity to meet someone from the past or present, who would it be and why?” His answer: “If I had the opportunity to meet anyone, past or present, I would elect to meet the man my dad becomes when he goes to work every day at CIA. I love my dad because he is the very definition of fatherhood: stoic, strong, capable. His career at CIA has always been out of my view, save for the awards and promotions he has brought home. My father is one of the countless unsung heroes of the clandestine service. I would love nothing more than to meet my dad at work, because as far as I’m concerned, I would be meeting Superman.”

* * *

Throughout my career I found particular inspiration and motivation from the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice—those CIA officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. The most special place at the Agency is the north side of the main lobby at CIA headquarters—the location of our Memorial Wall, with stars etched into the marble, one star for every hero who made that sacrifice. I worked by a simple motto—that what I did every day needed to live up to the sacrifices represented by those stars. And I posed that challenge to the new officers when I led them through their oath of office on their first day at the Agency.

When I became deputy director in May 2010, I insisted that we move the swearing-in ceremony to the main lobby at the main headquarters building, so we could hold it in front of the stars. I was given many bureaucratic excuses for why we could not do so—“It will take too much time to move the class back and forth between
buildings,” “We will have to shut down the main entrance for an hour,” “We will have to set up chairs and a podium for each swearing in”—and on and on. In response to each attempt to push back on my directive, I simply said, “I don’t care. Just do it.” After several days of this routine, the opposition got tired of my refrain and gave up, and the swearing-in ceremony moved to the lobby, where it is still held today, with all new employees raising their right hands and taking the oath while facing the Memorial Wall.

In my speech to the new employees before administering the oath of office, I would tell them, “I want you to know that you are not about to join just any company, not just any government agency.” It was important, I said, that they fully appreciate that they were about to join an organization that conducts espionage as a business, stealing secrets around the globe and making sense of them for the president of the United States—all with the goal of making our nation safer. “There is no other agency like this in the United States government,” I would say. And I would tell them that what they would do every day would be extremely relevant because intelligence “has never been more important than it is today.”

I would finish by telling them that I wanted them to be obsessed with quality. “
Good enough
is not a phrase we use at CIA,” I would tell them. “Pursue excellence in everything you do,” I would add. “The president, the taxpayers, and the stars on the wall deserve nothing less.”

Toward the end of my tenure at the Agency, not only did the new employees hear those words but so did their spouses and partners. When I became a member of the CIA leadership team, my wife, Mary Beth, became even more involved in the Agency and in its efforts to support the families of our officers. When I became deputy director, she had the idea that spouses and partners should be in the room when their loved ones take the oath of office. It was
a brilliant idea—an important first step in binding an employee’s family to the Agency. When I retired, Director Brennan awarded Mary Beth the Agency Seal Medal, the highest CIA award a non-officer can receive, and her passion for including spouses and partners in the swearing-in ceremony was one of the reasons for the award. I am very proud of her.

Today the swearing-in ceremony, with spouses and partners in attendance, is regularly led by the director—which is relatively new for the Agency. When I was the number three at the Agency, from 2006 to 2008, I presided over the oath of office. When I became deputy director in 2010, I insisted on taking on the task again, although my duties at the White House would often preclude me from doing so. But when Dave Petraeus arrived at the Agency in September 2011, he insisted on doing the ceremony. He believed that there was no better day to start imprinting the values of the organization than hearing from the director on day one. John Brennan continues that practice to this day. While I was disappointed that the responsibility had been taken from me—a job I truly loved—I thought the idea of the director’s conducting the swearing-in ceremony was exactly right. On November 30, 1980, on my first day at the Agency, I was sworn in by a mid-level official, the director of personnel, in a classroom. I do not remember who that person was or even the room where the ceremony took place. But today’s new employees will always remember that they were sworn in by the director, standing in front of the most important wall in the Central Intelligence Agency.

* * *

The Wall was meaningful not only for new employees. It was also important to me personally. I found it a place to clear my mind. On days when things seemed to be at their worst, on days when nothing
seemed to be going right, I would wander down to the Wall (I had a method of sneaking out of my office without my security detail seeing me and therefore following). After a few minutes everything would come back into perspective. No matter how bad my day, it paled in comparison to what the family and friends of our fallen officers had gone through and would continue to go through for the rest of their lives. I would always return to my office with a renewed sense of purpose. I would also go down to the Wall on the one day each year when the engraver came to the Agency to add the new stars. Standing and watching from afar as the chisel chips away marble and slowly creates a star is one of the most meaningful and moving experiences an Agency officer can have.

As of this writing there are 111 stars on the Wall, and certainly more will be added in the years ahead. They date back to the founding of the Agency in 1947. The stars are accompanied by the Book of Honor, a simple list of the names of the officers killed in the line of duty. Some of the entries are blank, as even in death the officers’ affiliation with the Agency cannot be revealed. Eighty of the stars were added between 1947 and September 11, 2001. And thirty-one stars have been added since 9/11—almost all represent officers who were in some way involved in the fight against al Qa‘ida.

Mike Spann was the first of the thirty-one. Mike was the first American to die in Afghanistan in our country’s response to the 9/11 attacks. On November 26, 2001, I arrived at work at one a.m. to prepare for my daily briefing of the president. I found on my desk, seemingly placed and centered there with care, a cable from our officers in Afghanistan. It reported the death of an Agency officer. I sat down and started to read, and I read every word of the cable. Mike and a teammate had been visiting a Northern Alliance prison near Mazar-e-Sharif in northern Afghanistan on Sunday, November 25. It was one of the places the Northern Alliance took Taliban and al Qa‘ida prisoners when they were captured on the battlefield.

It was a routine mission that went bad. Mike’s job was to gain from the prisoners any intelligence that might speed the Taliban and al Qa‘ida’s defeat, as well as any information about further terrorist plotting against the United States. One of the prisoners Mike talked to that day was an American citizen, John Walker Lindh, who had decided to fight for the Taliban. Late that morning a riot broke out among the prisoners and the Afghan guards lost control. The prisoners overran the prison and went right after the Americans. Mike fought with his AK-47 until it ran out of ammunition, drew his pistol and fought with that until it emptied, then resorted to hand-to-hand combat before being overwhelmed by the large numbers of prisoners. Mike’s body was recovered on the morning of November 27, after Northern Alliance troops and US and British Special Forces, backed by US air strikes, reestablished control at the prison.

I put the cable down, drew in a deep breath, and said to myself, “I’m showing this to the president; he will want to see this.” I highlighted sections of the text of the cable with a yellow highlighter. President Bush and I had an unspoken understanding that if he read only what I had highlighted, he would get the gist, the main points, of a piece. I tried to highlight as little as possible of the ten-page cable without losing the story. I placed it in the front of his PDB binder, before the analytic articles specifically written for the president to see that day and before two or three intelligence reports that I thought he needed to see.

I met Director Tenet, as usual, in his office in the Old Executive Office Building to prepare for the briefing of the president. The director’s briefer had already shown him what I planned to use with the president. Tenet took one look at me and said, “You’re not showing the Mike Spann cable to the president. He does not need to know that.” I pushed back, saying I was certain that he would want to know about our loss of Mike, the first American killed
in combat on his watch as commander in chief, and certain that he would also want to read about the details. One of the many great things about Tenet was that he listened and was open to changing his mind. He relented by simply saying, “I hope you are right.”