Bouncing Rubble

As a veteran of countless job interviews, I’m familiar with the standard send-ups: “Tell us about a time when…” Generally, you can prepare for these. I was caught off guard though when one company asked me to describe what I was most proud of in my professional career. With four decades of job history, I had better be able to come up with something - some minute contribution that rippled the pond of human endeavor in some slight way. It’s the HR softball phrasing for “what did you do during the war, Daddy?”

Even though I wasn’t quick on my feet during the interview, in retrospect, I thought it was an interesting subject. For someone playing the last few holes of life’s back nine, I think I’d like to document a couple items that might have served as better responses to the question.

Prescient Predictions

On the first of May 1989, I submitted an essay to the faculty of the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, titled “Post-Cold War Strategy: From Containment to Sustainment.” Ultimately, the essay won the B. Franklin Reinauer II Defense Economics Prize given to the paper that best exemplifies the contribution of economics to our national security strategy. The award was certainly appreciated and featured prominently on my subsequent resumes. But my source of pride lies in the historical accuracy of the prediction therein, a prophecy scoffed at by at least one respected Soviet expert.

A quick history refresher: Most observers agree that the Cold War effectively ended in 1991 when unchallenged declarations of independence by Eastern Bloc countries essentially dissolved the Soviet Union. These events were precipitated when Soviet leaders stood by mutely as the Berlin Wall was breached by peaceful protesters in November of 1989. The seeds of this revolution were planted by USSR General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev’s pursuit of policies of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). And, truly, the rest is history.

In my May 1989 paper, I argued that based on internal economic contradictions and failures, the Soviet collapse was inevitable, a fait accompli. That while Gorbachev could be credited with courageous wisdom to confront the entrenched Soviet bureaucracy, he merely had a firm grip on the obvious. I proposed that with the Cold War already won, it was time to cultivate a new strategy: from containment to investment in our own economic sustainment.

I was confident in my analysis, but I had no idea that the kick-off event was only six months away. As I wrote in my essay: “… it becomes clear that by the turn of the century, our national security requirements and the systems available to support them will have been drastically changed. The changes outlined above are not just a utopian possibility, but a prediction driven by economic requirements and realistic politics. Those who did believe in Gorbachev’s sagacity and sincerity, not because of a belief in his newfound humanitarianism but in recognition of his Leninistic “objective” assessment of the necessity for such a course of action, will be vindicated…”

At the time, I was enrolled simultaneously in the Naval War College and an international affairs Master’s degree program at Salve Regina College (now University). The first cut of the paper was submitted to the faculty at the Naval War College as part of our curriculum requirements. Graders gave it their highest marks and enthusiastically encouraged me to submit it for the NWC essay contest. I needed a paper for the Salve Regina program as well (two birds with one stone after all), so in it went. The Harvard-educated, Soviet expert who taught the Salve class returned it with a “B-.” In a master’s degree program, that’s an “F.”

The Salve professor, who shall remain nameless (Dr. Paul Holman), also served on the faculty of the Naval War College. Upon receiving my “F”, I confronted the Professor with my NWC grade and the comments from his colleagues at the War College. He assured me that his war college associates had no idea what they were talking about, that his entire academic career had been devoted to the study of the Soviet Union, and that my prognosis for the USSR was hopelessly off the mark (Captain Ramius: “I know this book! Your conclusions were all wrong, Ryan...”). The Soviet Union was a robust monolith that wasn’t going anywhere.

In revealing the Reinauer prize winner, the independent award panel announced that one paper was “far superior” to a number of excellent submissions. With my framed certificate tucked under my arm and my $1000 check in hand, I passed Dr. Holman on the exit ramp leading out of the auditorium. He congratulated me, adding sheepishly, “I guess I was wrong about your paper.” I muttered my thanks. But if only I had encountered him a year or two later as the Soviet empire was collapsing. Vindication indeed.

While I had successfully predicted the impending collapse of the Soviet Union, the impact of my writing, other than my name engraved on a plaque at the Naval War College, was confined to the three-foot space around my body. The paper was never published (my fault, mostly) and thus, to my knowledge, influenced no one. I think my second achievement may have been slightly more consequential.

Passé Predilections

Flush with success as a self-proclaimed national security strategist, my next assignment was to the headquarters of the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) in Colorado Springs. I was put in charge of a small branch of officers whose jobs were to ensure that logistic supplies (food, fuel, missiles, etc.) were available to support fighters deploying to bases along the Arctic Circle in the event of the Big One, a global war with the Soviet Union.

Planning efforts for this major conflict was a mini war of its own. Scarce logistics had to be prioritized. Europe came first. The Pacific was next. By the time NORAD requirements were apportioned, we were well into 60 or more days after the start of the conflict. NORAD fighter deployments had to wait until logistics were in place. Once I understood the mission behind these deployments, I thought the delay would be a mistake, even without “beans and bullets.”

The mission of NORAD’s forward-deployed F-15s and F-16s was to shoot down Soviet bombers over the polar icecap before they could deliver nuclear warheads onto American targets. War planners believed that this bomber attack would follow a general nuclear missile exchange - that the Soviet bombers would fly in to “clean up” remaining targets. Or as we liked to say, “make the rubble bounce.”

Given these assumptions, in my mind, it made no sense to delay sending our fighters north, even lacking a logistics infrastructure. The only utility these fighters had was deterrence through signal sending. I argued that we should convince national war planners to include our fighter deployments in the lead-up to conflict, not well into it. The Soviets would see our deployments and know their purpose. We didn’t need logistics in place to do that. In doing so, we might help deter a conventional war in Europe by advertising our early deployments as preparations for possible nuclear escalation. Those fighters weren’t going to accomplish anything of value by preventing rubble from bouncing, not after tens of millions of people had been killed in a nuclear missile exchange.

I presented this case to my boss, a seasoned F-15 fighter pilot, who headed our Division. This thinking defied generally accepted logistics support tenants, was certainly “out-of-the-box,” and was borderline heretical. Not only that, it came from a logistician. Who is this guy? He’s not even a pilot! Where does a “loggie” get off suggesting how to deploy fighters? The NORAD planning staff was densely populated with fighter pilots – several were my Air Force Academy classmates.

But the logic was sound. The Colonel agreed and we briefed the concept up the chain of command. NORAD leadership signed off and we convinced national war planners in the US and Canada to change the deployment sequence of our fighter assets.

Unlike my war college achievement, this NORAD accomplishment felt more consequential in the real world and on a national level.

Pompous Posturing

Dear reader, I hope you found these anecdotes mildly interesting. But in recording these reflections, I recognize that both stories involve an element of triumph over perceived disrespect, that I wasn’t satisfied with just the achievement itself – I had this need for others to acknowledge my talent. I think I continue to be burdened with this flaw. And in fact, truth be told, both accounts are egoistic, insignificantly minor tales in the grand scheme of things. Indeed, why even write this piece? Just another effort to pander for praise. Much to do about nothing - kind of like making the rubble bounce. Sigh….