Intelligence in a cold world

The first time I joined the U.S. Army, in May of 1983, it was in the Reserves and I was an Infantry soldier and a mortar man. I went to Ft. Benning, Georgia and did my basic training and then qualified as a basic infantryman (11B10) and indirect fire infantryman (11C10).

The first time I joined the Active Duty Army it was March of 1985, and when I went to the Military Entrance Processing Station in Newark, New Jersey, I thought I would simply go in as an infantry soldier: easy peasy, lemon squeezy. But, no, that was not the case.

I was offered three jobs at the MEPPS station (none of which were infantry): chaplain's assistant, some communications job and intelligence analyst (96B10). It was not a hard choice: I was not going to become some chaplain's gopher, I could care less about communicating to anyone on the telephone let alone the radio, and I was mildly interested in intelligence. It sounded fun. I was 19. Playing pinball and shooting hoops were fun, and becoming an intelligence was right there in my mind.

The world at that time was going through something very distinct: a little thing called the Cold War (1948-1990). In many ways, it was a war like any other (minus important horrible parts of armed conflict). But, it was fought day-in and day-out by many military and other professionals, among them Army Intelligence people (if they landed the right assignment). People in the Intel game where I was first assigned, A Company, 319th Military Intelligence Battalion, 525th Military Intelligence Brigade (ABN) (CBT) (CEWI), Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, affectionately called the Cold War the "Big Top," meaning it was the main show going on. Meanwhile, work that was not going on attendant to the Cold War was the "Sideshow." This was anything that may or may not have been a live mission, but wasn't playing on the premier stage.

Intelligence people, by and large, earned their way to working the Big Top. Lucky junior Intel people landed somewhere to work the sideshow until they got some experience and rank.

As an intelligence analyst, and especially as intelligence editor for the XVIII Airborne Corps' County-Intelligence Analysis Branch, I would assume just not to talk about anything I ever did on the job. I would not allude to what I did of a confidential manner. I would not allude to what anyone I knew of did -- just to be safe. I would not speculate on unclassified things about my assignment or any assignment I worked near or by. Better safe than sorry. Because 'sorry' means a lot of bad things I don't want to deal with now or want anyone affiliated with me to deal with ever. In addition, regardless of whatever I may or may not have been in this life, I always, always loved this country and served to protect it in uniform and out. My Dad and all my uncles fought World War II, with one of them, Uncle David, perishing in combat. I believe in America, despite the fact it is not perfect and it gets things wrong sometimes, but I stand by my conviction because it is still the best plan anyone has come up with for running a country so far. I signed a pretty strict piece of paper back in the day, SF 189, that pretty much laid out a lot of things. I still remember it very clearly.

But, the Army of my day, and specifically Intelligence people, were essentially apolitical. No one cared about who was president, what they did or didn't do, what laws were coming out or not coming out. It was not our business to care. We lost that privilege when we all raised our right hand and joined the military. The military should simply obey the orders of the chain of command, regardless of who that is, as selected by the American people. This is not a popular sentiment these days, and the military is poorer for it, in my opinion.

In my day, Intelligence people were polished professionals, who did not disengage their common sense or professional insights because of sentiment, political polls or who was "Tweeting" whom. It was a cold world, and if you were going to do a good job one needed to disengage their heart (and sometimes their stomach) and get down to the business at hand. There were very often no 'second chances' for things. The competition was a metaphoric 'angry 500-pound gorilla.' Every day was hard. If you weren't leaving work tired there was something wrong with you or maybe someone wasn't earning their pay.

I was 19 when I went there. I was still a dumbass 'party boy' to some extent, surely with some experience as a long-time cadet and fledgling infantry soldier, yet I was what I was -- a kid playing adult (and adult intelligence analyst at that). I dug in, did my homework, read everything, became a sponge for information. I was proud of myself. And, my boss did not think I sucked, which was very important.

I worked out back then. Did lots of sports, enjoyed being a paratrooper. And, I worked as hard as I knew. But, the work was killing me. I wasn't ready for it. I did a good job despite myself. And, I drank like a madman when no one was watching. Instead of beer, I started drinking whiskey alone. I was a good athlete and getting bombed didn't mess me up from being fit. Also, I never got drunk on a work day or night. When I could, though, I started visiting the bottom of a bottle. For me, it was the first seed of a bad time to come. I couldn't talk to anyone. The chaplain was a toolbag (and not properly cleared); my boss was incredibly busy running the universe; and my co-workers, except for the signal intelligence analysts, were all counter-intelligence agents and not the sympathetic sort. Besides, I was already "the kid." If I showed any weakness my butt would have been gone the next day. I could stand anything, I thought, short of not being at the dance anymore.

I guess whatever I was doing received good reviews, because I started working with the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and Schools; briefing Corps Commander Lt. Gen. James "Jumping Jimmy" Lindsay, on the weather; and the Golden Knights Parachute Team, about where they were visiting. It was a real honor briefing the corps commander, who was also commander of the Rapid Deployment Force -- even though it was just about the weather. Of course, it was an oddball side job, but I loved it. A friend at CI Analysis said the boss had no patience for young analysts and would flick a finger if he wanted me off -- and if I did so much as stammer once I would be off. The first time I briefed him I got through almost two minutes! (lol) The weather had nothing at all to do with my gig, but they wanted it and I did it and turned out looking forward to it, the same for working with the Golden Knights. Every trooper has a ton of respect for them because they know how good they are. These were the parts of the job I looked forward to.

Lt. Gen. Lindsay's staff included two superstars of the special operations world: Brig. Gen. Bernard Loefke and Brig. Gen. Hugh Shelton. For me, generals Lindsay Loefke and Shelton might as well have been the Holy Trinity. I would follow them anywhere.

Yet, about my job, it was either drink or have a nervous breakdown, I reasoned. So, I drank. My wife at the time, Patty, could not understand and that is normal, I guess. I don't know what I could have done differently, probably everything, maybe nothing.

I loved and hated my job, and I guess my job loved and hated me right back. I wasn't going to let anyone down, though, and I didn't during my time in green. There were times when it was incredibly not pleasant, though. Well, such is life. The Army cost me two marriages, my daughters, friends, family and sanity. Yet, I loved it so. Many things came up along the way sending me back and forth in my career path, but those are other stories.