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My command team and I began our listening tour on June 18, with a visit to Regional Command–Capital, the French-led organization responsible for the security of Kabul and some adjoining areas. Brigadier General Michel Stollsteiner, a fifty-three-year-old veteran of operations in both Africa and the Balkans, commanded the French forces. He’d been in command only twelve days when, on August 18, 2008, an estimated 140 insurgents ambushed a French patrol in the Uzbin Valley, killing ten French soldiers and wounding twenty-one. In that ambush, France suffered its heaviest loss since the 1983 barracks bombing in Beirut. Shock waves had rippled in Paris, but France had maintained her commitment to the Coalition.
While French forces were highly professional, a combination of relatively short six-month tours and limited helicopter mobility constrained their potential effectiveness. In later visits to other ISAF forces, I found that the structure, training, and operational limitations—often called “caveats,” like some nations’ prohibition from conducting offensive combat operations—prevented them from being as effective as they might have been. Invariably, I sensed the limitations frustrated these forces more than they did me.
Beginning with the listening tour, I made the decision that whenever I left the headquarters to visit forces, or meet with Afghans in Kabul and beyond, I would not wear body armor. I also did not carry a weapon, or wear sunglasses. (I stuck to this for all but a few trips where I accompanied actual combat operations.) As with my decision to go on raids with TF 714, it wasn’t bravado. Rather, I quickly concluded it was necessary for me to be successful in my role. For Afghans, as the commander of international troops, I was a symbol. How I appeared in their offices or in their newspapers and newscasts would significantly impact their view of the international presence writ large.
The unadorned way I presented myself was specific to Afghanistan. During the occupation of Japan, General MacArthur drove in a large, black sedan car and conducted himself aloofly. To the Japanese, accustomed to their emperor as demigod, MacArthur’s model was comfortably familiar. My situation required the opposite. We needed to appear humble and aware of our status not as occupiers, but as guests. Moreover, we needed to project calm. For that reason, when I met with Afghans, were I to be half-hidden by body armor, a helmet, and a retinue of guards, it would make the whole Coalition look scared, even as we were trying to convince the Afghans that the Taliban were not to be feared.
Showing up as we did in just our cloth uniforms often elicited useful feedback from the forces I led. On one visit to Surobi, east of Kabul in the fall of 2009, Mike Hall, ISAF’s senior enlisted adviser, my team, and I visited a French unit. The French officer in charge—who had a great reputation for competence and bravery—looked at me, concerned, as we were preparing to get in the armored personnel carriers to leave his base.
“General, aren’t you going to wear your body armor?” he asked.
“I think things will be all right,” I said.
“You know, General, it’s funny,” he responded. “I can come back from this mission and get completely run out of this province—but I’d get back to France and probably be promoted and get a medal. But if I have one soldier killed that didn’t have his body armor on, I’d be relieved of command.”
The concern wasn’t limited to a single nation’s forces. German, Italian, British, and American commanders echoed the French officer’s lament.
Also beginning with the listening tour, and for the duration of my command, I tried to travel as lightly as I could, typically with an aide or two; Charlie Flynn, my executive officer; and Shawn Lowery, my security detail. I knew it would be difficult for me to get an unadorned, fully authentic experience at the ground level. But as much as possible, I wanted to avoid anything Potemkinesque. We sought to simply slide into units’ normal routines. Even so, I knew they could easily tell me what they thought the commander wanted to hear, so Rod and Mike Hall often followed in my wake. So too did the civilian and military members of a new group I set up—the Counterinsurgency and Advisory and Assistance Team—who dispersed throughout the country. These experienced veterans spread best practices and provided me direct feedback on whether my guidance was being followed, and whether it was working.