Leading Through the Fog

Leadership is more than sustaining operations in times of constant change and uncertainty. Strong leaders cast a vision beyond and lead through the fog.

The Prussian General Carl von Clausewitz is credited with first using the term “fog” to describe situations where decisions must be made, and leaders need to lead in the midst of vast uncertainty in war. While many of us are not fighting as uniformed soldiers on conventional battlefields, I believe our current situation creates times of fog where we must lead our organizations and families forward. Today we find ourselves with a constantly developing and changing understanding of what is facing us and what lies ahead. As we receive information throughout the news cycle on any given day, we find ourselves in situations where we must make decision and lead while we’re surrounded in the fog of uncertainty, doubt, and fear.

Commanding the Redhawks

One experience I had with the fog of war was as an Army Aviator inadvertently flying into real fog. During the first Gulf War, I had the honor of commanding the Redhawks of A Company, 3-24 Aviation. We were a general support aviation company supporting the legendary 24th infantry Division led by then MG Barry McCaffrey. As a side note, if you didn’t get into a one-way “energized” lesson given by General McCaffrey at some point in your tenure under his command, then you never really experienced life. But that’s a different story. As a general support aviation company, we were the division’s aviation resource that responded to many different needs. We had a scout platoon flying OH-58Ds, an electronic warfare platoon flying EH-60s, and a general support platoon flying the old and trusty UH-1 "Huey" aircraft (think Apocalypse Now “Ride of the Valkyries” scene). I had taken command just a few weeks before the air war began and had settled in to fly with the UH-1 platoon.    

Getting the call for the mission

The 24th Infantry Division was part of the “end around” maneuver, taking the left flank, fighting straight through the elite Iraqi Republican Guard, and closing the encirclement north of the main Iraqi position near Basra.

The division’s ground forces were moving quickly and almost non-stop. We, the Redhawks, had been up for almost two days with very little sleep flying support missions as the division advanced. We were just settling in for rest when I was told that our brigade commander wanted to speak with me. I walked over to the radio where our Brigade Commander, COL Burt Tackaberry was waiting for me on the other end. He said that one of the ground brigades needed injured soldiers to be evacuated before they could keep the push on and move forward. Even though we were a general support company, this wasn’t a good mission for us. I quickly learned that the Medical Evacuation (Medivac) helicopter unit had turned down the mission. That unit was the best option for this task since they had specialized equipment, helicopters designed to carry litter patients, and medical personnel who could care for the wounded in flight. But they too had been up a long time and the weather was bad. No one could fault them. As a tactical unit organic to the division, however, we had one thing that they didn’t, a connection to the unit on the front line. As our brigade commander explained the situation, we could hear the ground brigade calling for help. Hearing those calls made our decision. We had to go.

The mission was going as planned

We flew directly to the ground unit who was still actively engaged in fighting. As we approached the landing area, we encountered enemy fire but made it into the landing zone without complications. When we landed, we found out the wounded we needed to extract were enemy Iraqi soldiers. These three soldiers had been severely wounded, could not stand, and were in significant pain. The fact that we were called in the first place is a testimony to the character and honor of the American Soldier. While engaged in combat, the infantry soldiers who were fighting believed it was important to care for enemy wounded before continuing their advance. We loaded the wounded, strapped them in the best we could and headed out for the field hospital. 

This was a nighttime mission and we were flying with the help of night vision goggles or NVGs. Weather was bad and getting worse with fog moving in and a sandstorm starting. Fortunately, I had CW4 Dick Williams as our Pilot-in-Command (PIC) for this mission. Dick had flown in Vietnam, had more hours flying that I could count, and was “that guy” who was the calm, seasoned veteran that seemed to sooth any concerns. He had stepped forward and volunteered to fly after hearing others in the platoon say no. Dick didn’t take the mission lightly. He knew the risks and his experience helped us prepare appropriately. When he volunteered, I had asked him to be the PIC so he would focus his planning on the flight route and weather while I went to find out more about the tactical situation and get the crew together. SSG John Szoke was our crew chief who “owned” the helicopter as the mechanical expert and door gunner on one side. SPC Ron White, an infantryman who had joined us from one of the ranger battalions when we deployed, rounded out the crew as the other door gunner. Before taking off, Dick briefed us on all the risk variables including enemy fire, questionable terrain in the landing zone, bad weather, and potential sandstorms. We had faced some of those already and now we’d experience the rest.

As the weather decreased, we flew slower and lower to the ground 

We’d typically fly about 50 feet above the ground but had come down to 5-10 feet when we went into the fog. We instantly lost all visibility outside the cockpit. Dick and I had decided before the flight that I'd be on the controls flying and he would take care of navigating since he had done the planning. Back in those days, the old Hueys didn’t have GPS navigational equipment so Dick was navigating mostly off a map looking under his NVGs and then looking outside through NVGs to ensure we were on course. Dick also had a handheld marine (boat not military) GPS that was purchased by our aviators before we deployed. After being put on alert to deploy, the aircrews pooled money together and went shopping at local boat stores in Savannah just in case satellites were up over the middle east. While the handheld did help, it added to the complexity of this situation because they weren’t designed to work under a spinning rotor and that created occasional interference. When we went “into the soup” everything suddenly seemed to go quiet. I no longer heard the sound of the engine or the occasional moans from the wounded in the back. We were in that “fog of war” and everything changed. I instantly pulled back on the cyclic to slow down to almost a hover and I gained some height to ensure we we’d clear any ground obstacles. I held a straight heading, and after a few bursts of expletives from both of us, Dick verbally reviewed our situation. We were flying at night over an area we had never seen before and just a day earlier was enemy territory, with no idea of potential hazards like the occasional power line, experiencing bad weather getting worse, and of course we still had 3 men occasionally reminding us they needed medical attention. We quickly resolved ourselves to the only truly acceptable course of action, we had to get to the hospital. 

First and foremost, we had to stay in flight 

Staying operational in the fog meant keeping above the ground, away from any hazards and enemy, and moving toward our objective. Dick marked our last know location on the map, found the navigational heading to the hospital from that mark and then, as quickly as he could, scanned terrain elevations and potential hazards on the map for the route to the hospital. We decided on the appropriate elevation that would keep us off the ground and locked in our heading. From that moment on, Dick and I communicated as one. I was focused on maintaining our flight stability, elevation, and direction while Dick was scanning outside looking for a break in the nothingness around us and serving as a verbal confirmation and occasional correction to our elevation and heading.

Leading in the fog by focusing us beyond 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but during that intense period, Dick was also constantly emphasizing the details about the field hospital. He would weave into his directions small snippets like where it was, how long it should take to get there, and the fact that all would be well once we arrived. He’d state things like “heading 235, we’re 30 minutes out. Turn right 5, stay at 235. They’re going to make it. Height is good, 235. Man, these guys need us to get there, let’s take it easy and make sure we do. Steady at 235.” He’d continue like that the rest of the flight. We punched out into the clear sometime later, and I honestly can’t remember how long we flew with zero visibility. As I get older, I’m sure that the time I quote gets longer with each telling of the story, but what I do know is that we were fortunate to make it through those almost impossible conditions.

The leadership lesson I learned

I learned a lot that night. One specific lesson was how to lead through the fog. Dick was our Pilot-in-Command and we experienced him living out what a strong leader does. A strong leader ensures everyone is equipped for the mission, expects and allows them to perform their roles, and then in the middle of uncertainty and a constantly changing situation - that fog we talk about - a strong leader not only makes sure that everyone is operating in a way to sustain life, but keeps them focused on the mission at hand, providing a greater purpose and direction to keep moving. While we had no visibility outside, Dick created a vision for us beyond the fog. Not only did he make sure we were doing what we needed to in that moment, he kept us focused on the goal of getting our wounded passengers to the hospital. 

The compass of leadership

To this day I keep a compass with me. It reminds me of Dick repeating our heading as he crafted the vision beyond the fog that he got us to focus on. I have a small compass hanging off my briefcase that my family will occasionally laugh at, but to me it’s a reminder of a key characteristic of a leader. A true leader goes beyond managing, and beyond making sure everyone is operating well today. A true leader seizes the moment to cast the vision beyond the fog and keeping the team moving forward to get to their goal on the other side.

Let's lead through the fog

While many of us are finding that we’re in the fog right now, I’d say now is a great time to pull out our compasses, set our sights beyond this fog, lift our heads and lead our teams, organizations, and families through this uncertainty to where we need to be what we want to accomplish.