On OPSEC and Warriors Waving Scalps

My buddy Greg Walker was quoted in a Tampa Tribune op/ed about Robert O’Neill, the former Navy SEAL who was on Fox News on November 11 & 12 claiming to be the guy who killed Osama bin Laden.  I didn’t see the Fox piece, but I read the earlier Esquire article about “The Shooter,” so I’m familiar with the claim— and with the backlash.

A lot of folks are unhappy with O’Neill. Joe Henderson, who wrote the op/ed is one and Greg Walker is another:

After they have stood up to physical training designed to break their bodies and psychological assaults to break their spirits, new members of the SEALs make a vow.

The promise they make before their country sends them out to do its most dangerous jobs includes these words: “I do not advertise the nature of my work, nor seek recognition for my actions.”

It has always been that way.

So while I admit it was compelling to hear the account on Fox News by former SEAL Rob O’Neill of how he is the one who killed Osama bin Laden, I wish he had kept his mouth shut. Who fired the shot that ended bin Laden’s life of terror is not important.

He is dead. That’s all that matters.

Giving details of the raid, as O’Neill did, violates more than his word.

“I feel sorry for him because he doesn’t have a clue what he has done,” retired Special Forces member Greg Walker said. “(The enemy) said they would target our families. Doing what he has done doesn’t help.

“He’s standing up and shouting, ‘I’m the guy who did it!’ We’re not the Lone Ranger in this business. This is a team effort.”

An oath is an oath, and for that reason alone O’Neill (and other SEALs) should keep their lips sealed.

But on the other hand…

Warriors have always told their war stories. It’s easy to think that the culture that tempts operators into breaching operational security and breaking their vow to be “quiet professionals” is a modern phenomenon. But it was ever thus. Plenty of Frontier Partisans shot off their mouths, plenty of ’em made up bullshit stories to hoo-rah the Easterners, and the media of the day was as voracious as today’s about throwing red meat to a ravenous public.

Take William F. Cody for example. Buffalo Bill was a real-deal Frontier Partisan, a capable scout and warrior. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for gallantry in action in 1872 (the medal was given to civilians then as well as military personnel. In 1917 it was revoked, then in 1989 it was restored).

He was also a showman, whether he was on stage, in an arena or in the field.

In July, 1876, Cody — already famous from dime novels and stage plays that assayed out to 15.5 ounces of bullshit to the pound — was scouting for the 5th Cavalry. This was one month after the destruction of Col. George A. Custer’s command at the Little Big Horn. The nation was thirsty for revenge and for ass-kicking deed to assuage the sense of humiliation heaped upon the head of the Republic by the Sioux and their Cheyenne and Arapaho allies.

The 5th ran upon a party of Cheyenne warriors who were trying to cut off a pair of army couriers for a little violent sport. Cody, dressed flamboyantly in a wide-brimmed hat, a red fireman’s shirt and black velvet vaquero trousers (literally stage duds) led a handful of troopers in a charge against seven Cheyenne. He rode headlong at a young warrior in a feathered headdress that trailed the ground, name of Yellow Hand.

Yellow Hand fired his revolver. Cody fired his Winchester carbine. Yellow Hand’s shot went wide; Cody’s went home, drilling through Yellow Hand’s leg and killing his pony. Cody’s horse went down, too, after stepping in a gopher hole, tumbling its rider into the sage.

The game young Cheyenne staggered up and tried to reach Cody on foot. The scout coolly took a knee and shot Yellow Hand in the face. Then he pulled out a Bowie knife and scalped him. He waved warbonnet and scalplock over his head, yelling “The first scalp for Custer!” Show off.

Then he got a book deal and his own reality TV show. Well, not exactly — just the Victorian era equivalents. The killing of a single warrior in a meaningless skirmish on Warbonnet Creek in Nebraska catapulted the scout to international stardom.

Cody sent the trophies home to his wife Louisa, who opened the mail package and fainted when she pulled out the crusty scalp. Buffalo Bill left the plains, headed east and hit the boards. He would reenact his moment of glory on stage for several years, before launching his Wild West Show. Crowds ate it up.

Of course Cody had made no oath to keep his mouth shut, and the 19th Century military had scant concern for OPSEC (operational security) and protecting its TTPs (Tactics Techniques and Procedures). Things are different now.

I’m not making light of people’s dismay at O’Neill (and at Mark Bissonette for writing “No Easy Day”). I agree with them. But still, expecting guys who killed the most wanted bad guy in modern history to stay silent about the feat (whether they really pulled the trigger or not) is bucking  a mighty strong impulse for a warrior to wave a bloody scalp and shout “Look what I did!” to an audience thirsty for blood.