The Shield
By mid summer 1990, I was pushing towards five years as an Agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Recent assignment to U.S. Marine Corp, New River Air Station, as the Senior Agent, had initially resolved the theatrical atmosphere endured at N.C.I.S. ‘s main neighboring office, Marine Corp Base, Camp Lejeune, N.C.
Supervising six Agents and carrying a personal caseload of five to seven investigations was pretty much the norm for the New River office. That norm coupled with command liaison responsibilities made for a busy work environment but lacked a task that raised the ante to a level requiring anything close to “high speed”.
Mid summer moved to late summer and suddenly August brought the world drama of Saddam Hussein invading neighboring Kuwait. The operational tempo of all Marine Commands at New River shifted to high gear and N.C.I.S’s support mission to the U.S. Navy and Marine Corp also pushed into overdrive.
The volume of War drums were additionally increasing with Marine Commands aboard neighboring Camp Lejeune, as well as the town of Jacksonville, N.C. and the surrounding area. CNN and FOX news ramped their coverage to a frenzy and their 24 seven style left little time for anything other than thoughts of War.
Word trickled down from N.C.I.S. Headquarters that the need for Agent personnel, capable of deploying to the middle east, was anticipated. In addition, Agents who had previous military experience as well as out country assignments as an Agent were preferred. Other considerations were experience and the ability to perform both within a criminal investigative role as well as shouldering counterintelligence responsibilities.
Prior service in Vietnam with the U.S. Army, coupled with N.C.I.S. assignments to the Philippines and as an Agent afloat aboard the U.S.S. Independence pretty much locked me in to an assignment in support of our pending War. A week full of drawing specialized equipment (uniforms, gas masks, ballistic vests, helmets) along with indoctrination briefings and a basic volley of inoculations set my deployment into motion.
Travel to Philadelphia, a short visit with the N.C.I.S. Office in Philly and indoctrination to counter measure protocol for exposure to various biological threats, nerve agents, other chemical threats, placed me at the Philadelphia International Airport waiting on a flight to S.W. Asia. Once aboard my flight destined for Bahrain, my mind zinged with remembrances of my flight to another War and another time. Twenty one years had passed since my arrival in Vietnam. Service as an Army light weapons infantry soldier, coupled with ten years of investigative and counterintelligence experience, had more than prepared me for deployment to this new conflict dubbed “Desert Shield”.
The flight was only two thirds full. I found a seat about midway on the starboard side and settled in. I was sitting in an aisle seat within a row of three. Seated in the window seat was a Navy Commander with flight wings. Small talk prior to lift off disclosed that the Commander and I had both grown up in Pensacola, Florida. Conversation continued with the Commander saying he had previously served as an enlisted man in the Marine Corp before attending college in Pensacola. Shortly after disclosing I had served with the U.S. Army prior to college we both realized that we had served a tour of duty in Vietnam prior to returning to Pensacola for school.
Once I told him that after junior college in Pensacola I transferred to Florida State University in Tallahassee, Fla. He related that he had graduated from the University of West Florida in Pensacola. More detailed discussion disclosed that after graduation he had joined the Navy and went through flight training in Pensacola. I subsequently laid out details about graduating from Florida State and immediately going to work for the Oklahoma Bureau of Investigation. Adding that working a seven year diet of homicide investigations, resulted in a change of career paths, and that was how I ended up working for N.I.S. as an Agent.
As a side point I said “it was quite a hoot” after being an Army Paratrooper to be with N.I.S. for I had served as an Agent afloat aboard the U.S.S. Independence. The Commander immediately responded by saying that the Independence was the ship he was trying to catch up with. Although neither one of us said it, our minds raced trying to put our encountering one another in perspective.
I queried the Commander as to whether or not he had ever encountered Mike Gershon in Pensacola. Telling the Commander that Mike and I had been the best of friends and roommates. I followed by solemnly saying that Mike had been killed flying with the Blue Angels in August of 1985. The commander hesitated for several seconds and then said “I am the one that talked Mike into Navy flight school”.
Both of us sat quietly after the discussion regarding Mike. Strange circumstances for us both. Although twenty years had passed since Vietnam my mind was racing fast forward as I knew his was. Vietnam, college, picking a career, and now moving quickly to serve in a second war was huge to comprehend. I believe that both of us understood we were supposed to meet. Also understood was that both of us were once again going to War.
Arrival in Bahrain was in the early morning hours. Immediately after clearing immigration and customs I was met by Jeff Sieber, Agent in Charge, N.I.S. Office, Bahrain. A quick welcome brief followed during our drive to the Gulf Hotel. Once we arrived I was having difficulty adjusting to the concept of being in a war zone but at the same time checking into a five star hotel. My room was on the twelfth floor and upon entering I realized the room was as large as my apartment back in North Carolina. I was exceptionally tired but hungry so I ordered room service. Within a short time a club sandwich arrived accompanied by french fries and a small coke. When finished with my meal I settled in and reflected on my surroundings. Bizarre was pretty much my primary thought with a bit of brain adjustment when memories of my arrival in Vietnam, twenty one years earlier,came forward.
Sleep came quickly as did morning. Shower and a shave managed to wake me fully. A short hallway walk to the elevator and presto I was on the main floor. A quick scan of the breakfast area located Agent Sieber, as I was taking a seat quick introductions were made and I was introduced to Al Zane. Al was the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) in London and had been detailed to Bahrain. A very experienced Agent with a strong background in Counterintelligence (C.I.). He was also the C.I. man responsible for direct coordination with the Commander of all Naval Forces (COMUSNAVCENT). A considerable amount of Al’s time was spent aboard the U.S.S. Blue Ridge which was moored in Bahrain.
Within a short time Al and I developed a strong working relationship and friendship. He had an easy manner about him but at the same time projected a top professional attitude. His C.I. skill set was outstanding and his merging with senior staff representatives aboard the Blue Ridge was accomplished quickly. The operational pace of all N.C.I.S. personnel, within the area of operation, was quickly ramped up to overdrive. With the basic mission of counterintelligence in time of war being “the saving of lives” motivation was not an issue. Long days and a fast pace became the norm.
Introduction to members of the Marine Corps sixth counter intelligence team, stationed at Sak Kisa Air Base, Bahrain, brought real time coordination to an unprecedented level. Professional relationships were quickly developed allowing the merging of assets and operational efforts. One joint effort in particular stands alone as a huge provider of real time actionable intelligence. Bahrain had seen a large influx of Kuwaiti refugees subsequent to Iraq’s invasion. A concerted effort to identify and contact individual refugees was undertaken. Debriefs conducted often led to critical information being obtained relating to Iraqi troop movements, weapon locations to include mobile scud missiles and munitions storage.
The information gleaned would generate intelligence reports that were immediately forwarded to Central Command. Central command would then corroborate the forwarded details by using satellite imagery and other “sources and methods”. Once confirmed the information would be provided to personnel responsible for plotting enemy targets within Kuwait. On at least one occasion results were immediately observed via C.N.N. The report which had prompted the “news flash” was information relating to the Iraqis using Kuwaiti school buildings for ammunition storage. There it was, CNN reporting for all the world to see, coalition forces bombing and destroying Kuwait school’s.
Operational security for all forces in the theater was paramount. Principle concerns however, focused on Marine Corp and Navy personnel as well as installations. The Marines 6th Counterintelligence Team operated out of Shaikh Isa Airbase situated within the eastern portion of Bahrain. The base was also the home for several Airforce squadrons of light bombers and other attack aircraft. Although Marine Corp units operated out of the Base, Airforce personnel were assigned the actual physical security responsibilities for the facility. As the war ramped up concerns were identified with the physical security of the outer perimeter and with elements, such as the flight control tower, inside the defensive perimeter.
Communication vulnerabilities were readily apparent for the Airforce Units and the Marine elements, lacked a consistent and constant system of information exchange. Initial efforts to illuminate the Airforce Commanders of the identified vulnerabilities were largely unsuccessful. A Test Exercise was executed which not only identified breaches within the perimeter defenses, but resulted in the Hostile Test force seizing the air operations control tower. As the designated N.I.S. representative to the U.S.S. Blue Ridge (Admiral Mauz’s command ship), Al Zane presented the “Test Exercise” results to the Blue Ridge’s Command Staff, The resultant fallout made short work of illuminating the Airforce Commanders at Shaikh Isa to their shortcomings with communications with the Marine units and personnel.
Work days averaged fifteen to eighteen hours in duration. The operational tempo increased as plans were solidified for the initial air assault that would occur, prior to any large-scale ground troop movements. Admiral Mauz, Commander of U.S. Naval Forces, scheduled travel to the United Arab Emirates for diplomatic liaison purposes and N.I.S. was tasked with providing the Protective Service Detail (P.S.D.) I was selected as the detail leader and within a few days the U.S.S. Blueridge was underway. Life aboard the U.S.S. Blueridge was considerably different from my previous duty aboard the aircraft carrier Independence. On the Indy I was considered ship’s company whereas on the Blueridge I was attached to the Admiral’s staff.
Specialized weapons such as Mini Uzi’s were brought aboard for use by Amniral’s Mauz’s security detail. Introducing myself to the Marine Detachment aboard the Blue Ridge was not only interesting but slightly comical. Since the Marine’s maintained the ships armory, protocol required the storage of all weapons while aboard. Weapons would be drawn when the Admiral was scheduled to make a shore visit. Checking the weapons in and out of the armory always resulted in young Marines darting their eyes around and looking a bit uneasy. Reflecting back I can understand why a couple of middle aged guys in civilian clothes, bearing Special Agent credentials, checking Mini Uzi sub machine guns in and out would be somewhat strange. Adding to the mystique was our deliberate projection of being the “quiet deadly type”. The drama ramped up considerably after completing the escort detail. Upon reboarding the ship it was required that all weapons be cleared by removing magazines and dry snapping into a “clearing barrel”. Trying to clear an Uzi by dry snapping is tricky because the UZI operates from an open bolt position. Marines, not being familiar with UZI style weapons only enhanced the drama.
Once I cleared my sidearm, a Browning HiPower, the hammer would not fall with the magazine out. This glitch always required a verbal explanation which would end by the Marine nodding his understanding. While walking away I would smile slightly for I knew the Marine did not understand and that he only wanted to end our interaction as soon as possible. Looking back I am grateful that I, or one of my team members, didn’t accidentally discharge a round when clearing our weapons. We worked hard in establishing ourselves as the “quiet deadly type” and an accidental discharge, ricocheting into the clearing barrel , would have been devastating to our perceived persona.
Three instances encountered while protecting the Admiral stand independent in their uniqueness. The Blue Ridge had traveled to the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Admiral Mauz had an early tee off time in Dubai. The protection team was geared and ready before sunrise. Due to a short delay on the Admiral’s part departing the ship, our dignitary vehicle and follow vehicle had to proceed to Dubai driving faster than normal. As I sat in the follow car I was cognizant of our speed and the fact we were weaving in and out of traffic to make up time. Having a driver who does not speak English only added to the drama. Remembering we are “at war” was a distant memory for we were risking vehicle damage and most probably personnel injuries by traveling as fast as we were.
Arrival at the planned location without insult or injury was a relief. However, sitting in a golf cart waiting for the Admiral to tee off was mystic. Thoughts of War, coupled with being on a golf course, were amplified by my possession of a Mini Uzi in a briefcase, were hard to digest. Once I added the fact that my UAE counterrorist counterpart also did not speak English the surreal atmosphere was pretty much off the chart. Racing to the green prior to the Admiral’s golf ball landing, only added to the absurdity of our mission.
Finally finishing eighteen holes was followed by our arrival at a local business for a special showing of “Persian Rugs”. Standing outside the rug shop for two hours, holding my souped up briefcase was a classic. Fleeting remembrances of Vietnam twenty one years past only added to the outrageousness of the scene. Once I recalled the old adage “war is hell” a smile emerged.
As soon as it appeared I momentarily became alarmed. Words my Mother had schooled me on were resonating in my mind. “Things are never so bad that they can’t get worse” echoed. Immediate thoughts of the Admiral being lost “blown up, shot, dead, etc.” were quickly followed by my realization, that if I had died in Vietnam, it would not have been as bad, as being known far and wide as the Special Agent — Detail Leader — who allowed the Commander of all Naval Forces in theater to be neutralized. Autonomic reaction caused a silent thought “pay attention to detail Steve, for you have been taught that is how to survive’.
The following morning came quickly. Departure from the Blue Ridge was rapid. A reconnaissance of the American Ambassador’s residence in Abu Dhabi was the objective. What could go wrong? “Fritz the Cat ‘’ was a NIS Agent assigned to Bahrain. He had been dubbed “Fritz” by Al Zane. According to what I had been told, which had been reinforced by Fritz telling me, “I have been to Arab language school.” We arrived at the Ambassadors compound and started our mission by sketching the layout and photographing a few structures. Within a short time I noticed that the security force, assigned to the Ambassador’s compound, appeared to be concerned about our presence. Common sense dictated that I instruct Fritz the Cat to inform the force that “it is okay, we work for the Admiral who will be visiting this evening”. Suddenly alertness turns to action for talking to Fritz has convinced the security force Commander that we are “bad guys’ ‘ who pose a threat. Deescalation only occurs when the Ambassador’s wife exits her home to see what the commotion is.
I instruct Fritz to quit talking and throw my hands up palm towards the security force. Rapid explanation causes the Ambassador’s wife to smile and she quietly tells the force commander to stand down. As I leave I muster enough calmness, to pretend I was smiling while saying, “Thank you Mam, I am so sorry for the confusion”. She continued to smile and as I disengaged, I comically said “Mam, please don’t tell the Ambassador about this, , it could be a career ender”.
Once back in our vehicle I asked Fritz what the hell happened. Reply was priceless: “I never said I was fluent”. Lots of adjectives came to mind “dumb ass, imbecile, idiot, pea brain, stupid f — — ker, etc. but contrary to my norm I did not utter a word.
The following day zinged into focus. Only task left was to transport the Admiral to an Airforce Air Strip for air travel to Jubail, Saudi Arabia.. Travel went smoothly, however our arrival at the security point for the airstrip did not. For whatever reason the security force manning the check point was
delaying our entry. Knowing that Admiral Mauz was known “to speak his mind” was concerning. Exiting the trail car I approached the checkpoint on foot. As I walked I did not see the Agent I had assigned to facilitate entry upon our arrival.
Within a short time the Air force Commander in charge of the airstrip arrived. A short discussion resulted in his order to security persons to open the gate. Just as we passed through the entry point our dear Admiral ordered us to stop. Admiral Mauz then exited the vehicle and approached the Air force Colonel who had expedited the opening of the gate. The Admirals stance and general appearance did not reflect a pleasant exchange with the Colonel. After the Admiral boarded his transport aircraft the Colonel approached me. I was a bit stunned because he appeared to be major league stressed. His eyes were watering and his voice cracked when he asked if I could explain to the Admiral that he was not responsible for the gate delay”.
As I walked back to the entry check point I was scanning the area for the Agent I had assigned to facilitate the Admiral’s arrival. From some distance away I now could see the Agent I was looking for. Fritz the cat, accompanied by another Agent, Joe Hephron, were walking towards me. Both were carrying bags of merchandise they had purchased in local shops. Upon arrival Hefron said “what’s up?” I did not respond to Hefron. I did, however, ask Fritz to step away with me.
My anger was controlled on the surface but I was firing on full auto inside. Question to Fritz was “where the f — — king hell were you? Joey asked me to go shopping with him.” followed by “you know he is a 14 right?” A follow up question was not asked for I was unable to speak. I knew if I opened my mouth a volcanic eruption of four letter words would result. Knowing that once I finished my colorful reply to Fritz, the situation would escalate, I mustered enough control to walk away.
Some years prior to encountering “Plastic Joe’’ and “Fritz the Cat,” my father had attempted to school me on “political survival.” The lecture was initiated by my Father asking me “Steve, all your life when you have encountered incompetent, superficial and agenda-driven people” why have you gone out of your way to make sure the person is clearly illuminated to how you feel?” My reply was simple and direct: “Dad, I have no patience for such people. When I was in Vietnam those people, caused others to suffer unimaginable injuries and at times death. Time delays in neutralizing such persons were unavailable. Immediate, direct, decisive action was required for your life depended on it.”
My Dad’s reply; “Son, you are no longer in Vietnam” my response Pop, my body left Vietnam, unfortunately, my mind is still “in country”.
Working extensively with the 6th Marine C.I. Team forged a bond that only exists in times of War. Christmas Eve 1991, had slipped up on us and I decided to leave Manama and travel down to Shaikh Isa Air Base where the 6th team was located. Since all Marine forces in Theater were prohibited from drinking alcohol, I purchased a fifth of Jack Black Liquor prior to departing. Entering the Airbase with any type of “evil juice” was obviously monitored closely. Transport was smooth for once sentries eye balled “Special Agent” credentials gates opened and hands waved vehicles in.
The fact that none of the participants had consumed alcohol in the past six months hastened the effects. Within 15 minutes after my arrival, speech was slurred and physical coordination was lost. Jack Black had quickly put all involved in the prone position. The following morning I headed back to Manama with a group of my now sober companions following.
Spending Christmas day in the Gulf Hotel was much like a kid spending Christmas in Mickey Mouse’s play land. We all enjoyed a grand slam Christmas meal at the Japanese Restaurant situated on the ground floor of the Gulf Hotel. A few drinks after dinner was followed by a visit to the “Spa” wherein, all participated partaking in a sauna and steam bath along with a plunge in the “ice pool”. Fortunately no vapor lock casualties were sustained and as my companions prepared to return to their Base all said “best Christmas I have ever had”.
The Storm
When January arrived Coalition Forces launched the highly anticipated Air Campaign targeting Saddam’s forces and facilities. In Bahrain the roar of aircraft navigating towards their targets was like nothing I had ever heard. Wave after wave continued relentlessly for weeks. CNN and FOX coverage maxed and no one on Earth was left that did not know that Saddam raiders were being destroyed.
“Shock and Awe” became the battle cry. The Air campaign shifted into the ground campaign and within days General Norman’s Schwarzkopf’s battle plan forced the Iraqis to scream uncle. My departure from the S.W. Asian War occurred quicker than my initial engagement. Return to Camp Lejeune via Jacksonville, N.C. Airport resulted in more personal and professional recognition than my service in Vietnam had twenty one years earlier.
Sliding back into normal business was difficult. Bleed over drama from Bosses at Camp Lejeune was constant. Promotion orders had been received along with a new assignment. Assistant Agent in Charge,
(ASAC) at El Toro, Ca. Marine Base was scheduled to be my new home. Focus was difficult and all seemed to be moving too fast. A desire and subsequent request for a delay in moving was denied by N.I.S. HQ.
A visit from Admiral Williams the Commander of N.I.S., was less than Inspiriational. His obsession on relating details about two Special Agents providing false statements, pertaining to “what time they played ratchet ball”, seemed a bit moronic since the President had just lied to the Nation “I did not have sex with that woman”. Once he proudly stated “I fired the Agents” a huge pile of sh — — t landed on my welcome home parade. Thoughts of “he’s a legal beagle lawyer, not a line Officer” and certainly not a “field Agent”, followed by how the “hell did he end up as my Commander”, hit like a stray bullet between my eyes.
That night, when my soon to be former wife stated “it would have been pretty prestigious for Shannon” (my daughter)” if you had been killed in the War”, I went numb, once feeling was restored, I recalled that a few years back, I had a brief thought that I had married the “dumbest woman in Oklahoma”. Now to know that in fact I did, was, as they say, the last straw.
Emotional exhaustion, physical deterioration, and a “I don’t care” attitude emerged. A lack of understanding of “what is happening” only intensified other negative factors. Putting all in perspective was impossible and my new “I don’t give a sh — -t disposition” flourished. Soon divorce, medical retirement, and a new found career training Labrador Retrievers evolved.
Dog training, Dog competitions, waterfowl and upland game hunting became my passion. Living in secluded isolation, in a one hundred and forty year old “Cabin in the Woods”, became my domain.
Time passed quickly, before I knew the loudest War Drum of my life exploded, echoing through the woods into my domain. The date was 11 September 2001, a surprise — not totally — for my Birthday is September the eleventh, now eternally known as 9/11.
