Free Defense of Hill 781 by James R. McDonough Page A

his combat service support was in good shape, husbanded with great care by his XO, who brought it forward as soon as the ground was secure in order to refuel and rearm the combat forces.
    As the medic put seven stitches in the gash over Always’ eye, the colonel reflected on the mess he had made of things. Just then Lieutenant Colonel Drivon, the evaluator, drove up in his jeep.
    “Well A. Tack, how do you feel?” This was obviously Drivon’s best effort at being friendly, addressing Always by his first name.
    “I feel fine, thank you. How are you?” Always was not about to admit anything.
    Ignoring the question Drivon issued instructions for the time and place of the after-action review of the operation. All of the task force commanders and principal staff would report to a designated grid location at 1230. The battalion could expect to receive their next mission within the hour. Only those forces that could be reconstituted would be available for the next mission.
    “What about my dead and wounded?” Always asked. “After all, they were dead to begin with.”
    “If you report your dead and request replacements, we resurrect them at midnight. If you treat and evacuate your wounded, we heal them and send them back to the replacement system. It’s up to you to get them back to the front. The equipment works more or less the same way. If a tank or Bradley has been blown apart, we’ll see you get replacements if you work the system. If it just needs repairs, then you’ve got to do it. No free lunch here, you know. Little bumps and bruises, like your face there—well, you just have to live with that, so to speak.” Drivon cleverly concealed any sympathy he might have for Always.
    “Okay. Thanks. I’ll get my people up to you at 1230.”
    The next few hours were hectic. Always called a hasty meeting with his S-3 and his XO to arrange for the reconstitution of the battalion. The order to continue the attack to the northeast the following morning arrived around 1200. Always had time only to look at the map, give some very general instructions, and pass on a warning order to the companies. By that time he had to leave for the review session along with his entire staff and all his commanders. The assistant S-3 was left in charge of the planning. At every level assistants would have to do yeomanwork to get the battalion back on its feet in time for the morning attack.
    The observers had gone to great lengths to make the review site difficult to find, putting it deep in a ravine. But the task force leaders found it, squeezed their tired and smelly bodies into the briefing van, and listened to what the observers had to say. Although the graphic descriptions of the errors stung, they were in every case accurate. At appropriate moments particularly glaring errors were played back on voice recordings and videotapes. There was a great shot of Always’ face, bleeding and dazed, peering out of his Bradley into the destruction of B Company at CP 2, followed by the tape of Captain Baker reporting that he was through the obstacle. No one chuckled.
    When it was over, some two excruciating hours later, Lieutenant Colonel Drivon and his team left the van at the disposal of Always and his men. The commander took advantage of the opportunity to make a little speech to his men, a speech that avoided apology or accusation but did not deny failure. He praised the commanders and their men for their resoluteness in the face of the enemy, and rededicated their mutual effort to figuring out where they went wrong and putting it right. With that done he dismissed the group and headed back toward his headquarters. It would be dark in four hours, and there was much work to be done.
    On the drive back Always mulled over the lessons he had learned during the preceding twenty-four hours:
    Intelligence is the building block of the order. Don’t expect it from higher headquarters. Build it from the bottom up, and make it specific. Get the scouts out