The High Ground: Leading in Peace and War

By R D Hooker

The High Ground draws on the author’s personal experiences as a combat leader to illustrate examples of successful and inspiring leadership in military organizations at all levels. Many of the essays contained in this volume focus on specific military personalities that portray effective leader behaviors in both peacetime and combat settings from the tactical to the strategic. Others describe key leadership characteristics and attributes of successful leaders, from small-unit level to the Pentagon.

Throughout the author provides specific and compelling leadership advice and suggestions to new soldiers, new lieutenants, staff officers and commanders. The author served over thirty years in the post-Vietnam Army, rising from private to colonel and serving in the invasion of Grenada and in Somalia, the US response to the Rwandan genocide, in Bosnia and Kosovo, in peacekeeping operations in the Sinai, and in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. He commanded a paratrooper company, battalion and brigade and served in the continental US, Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, Africa, and Southwest Asia.

The High Ground describes his observations and interactions with military leaders at all levels, in battle and in garrison, to describe and portray military leader development and leader excellence in all its many and varied dimensions. Gripping and fast-paced, these leadership vignettes will carry the reader from peacetime into battle with the American Soldier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casemate
• Release date: Apr 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781636242941

R D Hooker

Colonel R. D. Hooker Jr. retired in 2010 after 32 years of enlisted and commissioned officer service. A veteran of five combat tours, he served exclusively in parachute units, commanding at company, battalion and brigade level and serving as a staff officer in the offices of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Secretary of the Army, and Chief of Staff of the Army, as well as the National Security Council in the White House. He also taught at West Point and the National War College.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Leadership Fundamentals

In his search to be a great leader, the young centurion

sought out the Republic’s veteran warrior. Looking up

from his labor, the sage spoke: "I know not what beats

beneath your tunic, but what I saw in a leader from

foot soldiers to proconsul is thus:

One who makes drill bloodless combat

and combat bloody drill…

One who disciplines the offense and not the offenders…

One whose heart is with the Legion and whose loyalty

is to the Republic…

One who seeks the companionship of the long march

and not the privilege of position…

One whose commission is assigned from above and

confirmed from below…

One who knows the self and, therefore, is true to all…

One who seeks to serve and not to be served…

This is the one who leads best of all."

JEFFREY SPARA

Skin in the Game

If you were a professional soldier over the past generation, you probably went to war. If you were a leader, there’s a good chance you lost soldiers. A big part of leadership in combat is coping with that inescapable fact. If it happened to you, you lived with that sense of loss. You wrote letters to parents, attended ramp services, memorial services and funerals. You met with your small units and your leaders, trying to learn, to get better and to share the grief. At some point, you had to set it aside to continue the mission. You didn’t forget, but you learned to cope because you had to. If you were a good leader, you told yourself that you understood how that tragic loss affected families and loved ones—because that young man or woman was your soldier.

Then, one day, your firstborn comes home from college. He tells you and his mother, I’m wasting my time. I’m not doing well. I need to grow up. I need some discipline. And I want to serve. I’m joining the Army.

You say, Son, let’s talk about this.

He takes his mother by the hand and looks you in the eye and says, Dad, I’m not asking for your permission. I’ve made my decision. I’m asking for your support and your blessing. You feel a surge of pride and fear all at once. This isn’t someone else’s child. This is yours. Your wife smiles bravely, but you sense the wave that washes over her.

In the next few months, you watch your son go through training and head off to his unit. By some strange trick of fate, you both end up in the same part of Afghanistan. You are at the end of your career, and you live and work in a large base camp. Once in a while someone shoots at your helicopter, or the occasional mortar round or rocket comes in, but basically, you’re pretty safe. You have hot showers, a great mess hall and a big gym. You have heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. It’s not too bad.

Early on, you catch a bird and go visit your boy. His world is very different. It’s a small combat outpost in the Hindu Kush at 8,000 feet. He’s surrounded by high ground, washes his uniform in a bucket, and sleeps in a timber hooch he and his buddies made themselves, surrounded by sandbags piled high. During the day, he patrols the mountains and villages. At night, he takes his turn in the towers.

Private Chris Hooker, Wardak Province, Afghanistan 2009. (Author’s collection)

They give you an hour alone, and at first you almost don’t recognize your own child. A strong, good-sized kid, he was made a machine-gunner right off the bat. He’s proud of that. But the unit is a bit understrength, and there’s no assistant gunner. So he carries the gun, 700 rounds and the spare barrel bag, along with all his other kit. It weighs out at 102 pounds, and he’s lost 30 pounds in 30 days.

He looks at you and says softly, almost in a whisper, Dad, I’m not sure I can do this. You hug him and say, Don’t worry, it’s the altitude. You’ll get used to it soon. You’ll be fine. Over the next weeks and months, you find yourself, more and more, stopping by the operations center. When your boy’s unit gets in a TIC (troops in contact), you can’t help it—a cold shudder runs up your spine. You do your best not to show emotion. When there are casualties, it’s worse. You know someone will call or come see you with bad news, so you never ask. You go through the next 12 hours in an agony of suspense.

And now you begin to see. You thought you understood the anguish of a soldier’s parent, but you didn’t. Not really, because now you have your own skin in the game.

Once in a while—not too often—you check up on your son. He’s a good soldier, his officer says. He’s tough, doesn’t complain. We had a big fight the other day. He didn’t hesitate. We’re lucky to have him. On your next visit, he looks better. He’s put on a few pounds, he smiles more and he’s tight with his squad. They are great young Americans: hard, tough, committed and fiercely caring about each other. The platoon sergeant, on his fourth combat tour, is a quiet, competent professional. The lieutenant, the son of a four-star, is doing just fine. You know there are no guarantees, but you feel he’s in good hands.

One night, they come and get you at 0100. Sir, the runner says, it’s your son’s captain. He says it’s urgent. It takes you a few minutes to get to the secure phone, and you die a little bit with each step. The young captain comes on the line. Sir, I wanted to tell you right away. Your son was involved in a vehicle rollover up in the mountains. He’s a little banged up, but he’s OK. I thought you’d want to know.

You want to scream over the phone. What was he thinking, to scare you like that? But then you realize he’s young, trying to command in combat, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You say, Thanks, son, I sure appreciate the heads-up. Later, when the captain is badly wounded and flown out of theater, you say a prayer, and you ask yourself, Where do we get such men and women?

As the year winds on, you get bits and pieces. Your boy’s squad goes out for 24 hours, but the winter weather moves in, and the helicopters can’t fly. Trapped up high, they’re out for days. The squad leader goes down with frostbite and they run out of food. They’re lucky not to freeze to death. On another operation, he’s knocked off his feet by a ricochet. His body armor stops the round, and as he lies there stunned, an NCO grabs him by the scruff of the neck and runs him out of danger. He holds on to his weapon, though. He’s proud of that. And you thank God for that sergeant.

All of this he keeps from his mother, and you do, too. But she has been doing this for years, and without knowing the details, she knows. She knows her baby boy is fighting for his life and for his friends. She knows he is in danger. She knows that call could come any day. On Skype, she’s invariably cheerful and supportive. At night, when she’s alone, it’s sometimes too much, and the tears come. And you thank God for her and for all like her.

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You learn that you worry about your child much more than you ever worried about yourself. You come to see with painful clarity what you thought you knew but really didn’t. Now, at the very end of a long career, you get it. Back home, there are hundreds of thousands of mothers and fathers who have offered the nation the most precious thing they have. Their sons and daughters have done the same, placing their irreplaceable futures in the balance. They’ve hardly begun to live, and yet they put it on the line every day. You feel a newfound sense of awe. And you ask yourself, Can I live up to that?

It’s the longest year of your life, but eventually it ends, and you come home to retire. As you sit there for the ceremony, you look at the silver and blue badge, the long rifle with a wreath, on your boy’s chest. It’s the same one you wear on yours, the same one your father wore, too. It suddenly dawns on you: He’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man and has been for a long time. You hug your wife, overcome with joy and relief but also with a tinge of guilt, because you know there are parents out there who will never feel real joy again. Now, at last, it’s all over.

And then one day your second son comes home from college. Dad, he says, we need to talk.

The author’s oldest son Chris is today an infantry captain. His youngest son, David, also left college to enlist as a paratrooper, serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. Today he is also a captain of infantry. This article appeared in the December 2014 issue of Army magazine.

Queen of Battle

Dear Son,

Today you signed into your first duty station as an infantry private in the US Army. Congratulations on joining the Queen of Battle! You’re following in some heavy footsteps—not only mine, but your grandfather’s and your brother’s. Your story doesn’t begin with us. A long time ago, your great-great-great grandfather fought at Gettysburg as an infantryman. We’re all proud of you! I wasn’t the best private in the Army, but I think I was a good one, so I hope you won’t mind if I pass on some of what I learned along the way.

It might surprise you to know that you’re joining a pretty select group. There are more police officers in New York than there are infantryman in the US Army. The country has spent a lot of time and money training you up. So, you’re pretty special. You’re not only joining the best army on the planet. You’re now part of the sharp end of the spear. So be proud! But remember. You’ll be asked to earn that right every day. It won’t be easy.

Private First Class David Hooker, 2nd Bn, 505th PIR, 82nd Airborne Division. (Author’s collection)

In the days and weeks to come you’ll be trying to assimilate—to become a part of the team. Fitting in will be just about the most important thing in the world to you. It might not be easy. Your unit will wait and see before they give you their trust. They’ll be sizing you up. Many will be combat veterans, and they’ll be wary about accepting you until you’ve been tested. Don’t worry. Look them in the eye. Be respectful, and don’t talk too much. Give them your very best, every day. You’ll make some mistakes. Just don’t make the same ones twice. Be in the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform, and you’ll be OK.

What’s it like in a rifle platoon? Basic training and the infantry school challenged you, but you’ll find pretty quickly that soldiering in a unit is hard. In the next few months, you’ll be colder, hotter, tireder, and sleepier than you’ve ever been in your life. You’ll walk farther, run harder, carry more weight, and be given more responsibility than you think. Along the way, you’ll be given all sorts of grunt work that won’t be fun or easy. That’s the life of a private. Just roll with it. It’s got to be done, and plenty of people will be looking at how you take the unpleasant tasks and deal with them—though you may not notice. All your life, you’ve heard me repeat the line from that John Wayne movie: Never complain, never explain. It should be your code. No one is interested in excuses in the infantry!

What’s most important for an infantry private? In my opinion, no question, your first priority should be to stay in great shape. Combat is unbelievably demanding, and that’s the only reason to have infantrymen—for combat. A good infantryman is part pack mule, part distance runner and part linebacker. A big part of the game is avoiding injury, and the best conditioned soldiers are the ones least likely to get hurt. If you go to war, the number one thing that will keep you alive is being in shape. It takes hard work, some on your own time, but it’s worth it.

Close behind in order of importance is proficiency with your weapon. If you can’t hit what you shoot at, you’re not much good to anyone. It’s one thing to hit the target on a nice sunny day after a good night’s sleep and a hot breakfast. But it’s different when you’ve had no sleep, you just climbed a big mountain, you’re hungry, it’s snowing, and your target is moving and shooting back at you. You’ve got to be able to hit the target then too. Ask for extra time and bullets on the range if you need it. Seek out coaching from your NCOs. Keep your weapon clean and in good working order at all times and report any problems immediately. Commit to excellence with your weapon. Much depends on it.

As you look around your platoon and company, you’ll see a lot of variety. There are riflemen, grenadiers, machine gunners, mortarmen, and radiomen. You’ll work with hand grenades, demo, pyrotechnics, and mines. You should be expert with your assigned weapon, but you need to be familiar with them all. In combat it’s not uncommon for one man to go down and another take his place. In a pinch, you must be able to pick up any weapon and use it effectively.

How do privates get in trouble? Well, it’s not rocket science. Most of the time, alcohol is involved. There may be pressure to overdo it, or get behind the wheel when you shouldn’t, or even drink with leaders. This kind of thing can lead to tragedy and the Army is deadly serious about alcohol-related incidents. They are career killers, and sometimes outright killers.

The next minefield is safety. You’ll be doing very dangerous things, with live ammunition, at night. Listen carefully to what you’re told. Keep your weapon on safe except when you’re firing. Practice muzzle awareness always. Always treat your weapon as if it were loaded. Firearms and explosives are incredibly dangerous. They’re designed to kill people. Never forget that.

In your first days in your unit, you’ll probably see an amazing emphasis on sensitive items. Your weapon, your night vision gear, your PLGR, radios and aiming devices—all are expensive and precious. Sergeants and officers get in big, big trouble when they go missing, and it’s often a private who loses one. A good soldier never moves without being sure he can account for his sensitive items. Don’t expect forgiveness if you screw this up, because you won’t get any.

As a private you are at the bottom of the chain of command. It’s important you respect that chain. There will be leaders you respect more than others. Keep it to yourself, because when you don’t, you undermine the chain of command, and that’s never good. If an order isn’t illegal, immoral or unethical, follow it cheerfully and to the best of your ability.

What does the Army expect of you? The Army describes the Warrior Ethos like this: I will always place the mission first. I will never accept defeat. I will never quit. I will never leave a fallen comrade. Even as a private, your role in your fire team and squad and platoon is important. Your buddies need and rely on you and your firepower. They need to know you’ll be there when it counts. Your life is precious and you should never be reckless with it. But when and if the time comes, you must be willing to fight. You must fight!

That’s your job as an infantryman. There’s no point in sugarcoating it. Your job is to kill the enemy and take ground. As a famous general once said, other people will take care of everything else. From time to time, you may be asked to help out after a hurricane, put out forest fires, do some peacekeeping or help train the National Guard. Those are all good things. But at the end of the day, the American people pay you to kill the enemy. They pay you to take ground. It’s not pretty, and civilians won’t want to put it exactly that way. But that’s the job. I can tell you, having served in five wars, the world is a dangerous place, and America will need its soldiers for a long time to come. Knowing what your purpose is will help you to understand the Army and your place in it.

At times you may wonder whether a good person should serve these ends—whether killing people and taking ground is entirely moral and ethical. Well, in a perfect world there would be no need. But our world is far from perfect, and sometimes our leaders will decide that we have to use force to protect ourselves, our friends, or the things we value most highly. They will answer to the American people for