The Psychosis of Boredom

What is the difference between an ODA, and a Boy Scout Troop? Adult supervision.

It is said that war is hours of boredom interrupted by moments of terror, which is true. There are volumes written on how to train, deal, react go 0-60 in a heartbeat. Learning to breathe like you’re in a lamaz class. Hell, even Ricky Bobby had to learn how to control his fear so he could drive with a wild cougar in his car.

What hasn't been talked about as much is what happens to a man (Yes. I said man. It's not sexist - women just aren't this stupid.) when the monotony and boredom become too much, and a kind of euphoric insanity overtakes you. It is a strange phenomenon because very rarely does this madness affect only one person.

I had first heard about this affliction during the Q course. We had some Vietnam vets come and talk to us. They told a story.

After a failed attack on their camp, they spotted an unexploded white phosphorous mortar shell right outside the wire in the middle of their minefield. Well, the demo guy got some C4 and went out there to blow it up. Apparently, he had miscalculated the time fuse and it exploded while he was trying to wind his way back through the mine field. The guys telling this story were laughing their asses off, describing him hot-footing it around the mines while White Phosphorous is raining down all around. I didn't get it at the time, but I do now.

Disclaimer: I do not recommend any of these actions, even though every single one of them was totally worth it...at the time. (Until our wives found out, that is. Wives just don't have this child-like curiosity and wonder at all the amazing things that are possible.) Also, I swear to everyone reading that each story is true. Names will be hidden to protect the innocent and give them plausible deniability when confronted by angry spouses, who may not have heard some of these.

Afghanistan 2002

This was my entire team's first combat rotation. We were all nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect. After a month or two we had gotten our firebase built, and while construction was still ongoing, we weren't being run ragged like we had been at first. We were out patrolling a lot, but when we were back we had some downtime. That was when we came to the most dangerous epiphany that could possibly come to guys in a foreign land at the beginning of a brand new war. The fact that it took this long shows you how ingrained and brainwashed we all were by the modern peacetime Army. Our epiphany.....there is no Range Control at our Firebase.

Not only was there no Range Control, the closest adult supervision (B team) was over three hours away, through prime ambush areas over spine crushing roads. You don't really see the insanity at the time. It is only when looking back through the hazy lens of time do the "what the fucks" come.

I think the first time the insanity hit, I was standing on the edge of our Firebase looking down, far below, across our DZ to where we had set up our heavy weapons range. The range was on top of a deep cut that was not only a river bed, but also acted as a road. Across the stream/road was a tall ridgeline that ran parallel to our fire base. We would shoot our heavy weapons over the road and use the ridgeline as our impact zone. Right next to the firing line was the outline of an old compound we called the ruins. All that was left was the typical Afghan mud wall, about 3 feet high and about 2 feet thick.

The insanity hadn't completely taken a hold of me yet so I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I saw three of our guys shooting the 60 mm mortar, similar to this. They were standing about 15-20 meters from the ruins and seeing if they could get the round to land inside. They were holding the tube straight up and shooting it. Every once in a while they would shoot it, and a few seconds later they would all dive for cover and the round would hit danger close. They would get up, brush the dirt off and do it again.

In their defense, they got so they could set up right next to the compound and make it land inside...almost every time.

A few days later my Bravo was down there again, this time by himself doing the same exact thing, except this time he was using his 203 grenade launcher. By now, I was full in the clutches of this dangerous malady, so of course I went down and joined in. If you've never shot one, if you pay real close attention when you shoot, you can watch the grenade fly.

Trying to get a 40mm grenade to land 15 meters away is not easy. The wind, rotation of the earth, tides, the moon's gravity and global warming all come into play. Well, sometimes you would lose sight of it, or you would see it coming down where you're pretty sure it will be too close, so it then becomes necessary for you to throw yourself to the ground, in the opposite direction from where you think it might be heading (stupid global warming). But practice does make, if not perfect, at least less shitty, so by the end we getting most of them right in the ruins.

Sometimes it's not insanity that hits you, but a really "funny" idea on which you probably could have done a better cost-benefit analysis. As a Fox, I now know to look for 2nd and 3rd order effects, but sometimes a lack of critical thinking on your part makes your hilarious joke less funny for you, but infinitely more funny for everyone else. That happened to me on my third trip.

We were right next to FOB Salerno who had a medevac unit located there. Our medics had built a good relationship with the pilots, and they would come over and conduct training. Many times they needed to go pick someone up, so they would fly over and pick our 18Ds up to help out, so it was not uncommon to see the helicopters sitting out there on the airfield. I got to know the pilots and would sit around and bullshit with them.

Well, one afternoon I was out doing PT running around the airfield, in nothing but ranger panties, of course. I was at the end of the runway heading toward them as they were taking off. They were going to fly right over me so I quickly turned around and dropped my shorts, laughing at how clever and funny I was. Apparently, the pilot thought I was funny too, because he brought the helicopter to a hover...directly over me.

Even though I couldn't see due to the fact that I was blind in the middle of a tornado and every orifice was completely covered in dirt, I just knew they were laughing.

Original GWOT

Straight Outta GWOT

Dangers of Rapport

I wanted to write a short article on some of the dangers of rapport building and some things that you need to watch out for. I like to use the example of democracy in the Middle East. We can’t expect whatever form of democracy other people choose to be exactly like ours. It’s a foolish notion and one destined for failure. You have to find a middle ground that takes into account that countries history, culture and social norms.

When living and working with a different culture, building rapport, fighting and dying shoulder to shoulder with them, it is easy to become emotionally involved. It is easy, especially when they are honorable and likable, to find yourself assimilating with them. As I stated in The Importance of Rapport, the best advice I ever received is to never go more than 49% native. My first team sergeant understood rapport, but also the dangers that could come. It’s a fine line to walk, as is everything dealing with Foreign Internal Defense (FID) (especially during combat). Combat creates a bond, a brotherhood that is hard to break.

Many soldiers learn quickly to compartmentalize, and SOF are experts at it, but from my experience Special Forces are able to do it better than most.

Compartmentalized minds have diversified personalities which enable them to behave differently and appropriately in a variety of situations such that they can behave like a boss or worker on the job, a parent and/or spouse and/or grown child at home, a teammate on a sport, etc. To be competent in each area they are said to be good at “having boundaries” such that one role does not blur into another.

One of the challenges however of being highly compartmentalized is that over time, people may lean more and more into those compartments where they feel most competent, capable and confident. That can cause other compartments to either atrophy from disuse or in some cases never develop in the first place. Over time these people can appear to be more like “human doings” that don’t feel particularly present as people even as they appear quite competent in a particular function. Think of IT instead of HR.

I don’t know if it is a psychological trait that is looked for, but I do know that training quickly refines and expands it. The hard training that is involved starting at selection (and honestly, it never stops) is part of the mental selection and mental training. The ability to separate the pain and discomfort, and to push forward in spite of it, is just one way that is used to find people who have the ability to create those compartments or can already do it. If a person can’t do this effectively they will either quit or be booted out at some point during the training.

The reason I say Special Forces are better at being able to do this is because they are required to have more compartments. There is the family, deployment, team, group, army, and America. They also have to be able to fully immerse themselves with whatever local unit, tribe, sect, they happen to be working or interacting with they are working in Afghanistan or Iraq. Between combat deployments they are still conducting JCETs and non-combat FID in multiple foreign countries. Each of these examples has a different compartment, and each compartment has only what is needed to succeed in that one situation.

To understand how significant these compartments are, I will use myself as an example. Whenever I deployed (and there were a lot of them), I got into the habit of asking my wife and kids to drop me off and leave. I didn’t want them to wait with me or hang out like a lot of other families did. They would drop me off at the curb and we would say our goodbyes. I would watch them drive away, then go in and hang out or bullshit until it was time to load the plane.

Standing on the curb watching them drive away was the beginning for me. It was part of the process I developed to help me switch compartments. After the plane took off, I would take an Ambien and sleep for about four hours When I woke up the family compartment was locked up tight and the deployment compartment was open and ready to go. I would only open the family compartment when it was safe, or when I was on the phone talking to them. It was never opened fully, but cracked just enough to give me what I needed to talk to them. As soon as I hung up it was slammed down and locked back up. It was never opened fully until I walked back into my house.

And as I’m writing this and thinking about it, I have to admit that the family compartment never really completely opened while I was in. Knowing I had another deployment coming up, or could be sent somewhere with very little notice. This forced me to keep a tight hold on it so it could easily be shut on the next trip.

Some compartments necessitated switching from one to the other in the blink of an eye; others took time to prepare. In Kosovo, our primary mission was to act as liaisons between the locals and the U.S. General in charge of the American sector. We walked around in only a uniform and concealed pistol and had to be able to go from friendly conversation to sensing a threat and drawing in an instant. Some people refer to that as “flipping a switch,” which is a good analogy of going between times of quiet to sudden violence. 'Flipping a switch', while a good descriptive phrase, doesn’t change the fact that those situations required two very different compartments. If you couldn’t switch fast enough, you died.

People who can’t flip that switch either became too trusting or too friendly with locals, and forget exactly where they are, or they can’t relax and be in the moment. They would subconsciously perceive everyone as a threat, which the locals could easily sense. This created a lack of trust, which prevented the rapport from developing.

The point is that when you can compartmentalize, you are able to give 100% of your 49% (Naked gun 50/50 chance) to the people that you train and work with. This allows you to be better able to build that trust without losing yourself. You can keep the American and the U.S. Soldier compartment safe and switch when needed.

U.S. Army Special Forces / Green Berets / "De Oppresso Liber"

Selection, Nobody cares about the color of your skin

3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne) Night Training

Ensuring Equality: More Combat Deaths For Women And Minorities

Colonel Mike Copenhayer, while not technically an “operator,” has spent a lot of time in SOF units, most likely screwing up awards, losing promotion packets, and generally making it as difficult as possible for the guys on the tip of the spear to do their job.

As the personnel officer who has been the J1 at the Joint Special Operations Command and G1 at the US Army Special Operations Command, he is part of the bureaucracy that has made life exceedingly difficult for a huge percentage of all Special Operations Force soldiers.

Not satisfied with only a mere “huge percentage,” Colonel Copenhayer sought to go further by writing “The Integration of Minorities into Special Operations: How Cultural Diversity Enhances Operations” while attending the United States Army War College.

Read more at Hit the Woodline

The Integration of Minorities into Special Operations: How Cultural Diversity Enhances Operations

The Integration of Minorities into Special Operations: How Cultural Diversity Enhances Operations

The Integration of Minorities into Special Operations?

DIVERSITY

Special Forces does not judge you based on your

 ethnicity or color of your skin. You are judged based on

 your performance.