The Fog of War
It is real. It refers to the unfortunate circumstance in which no one knows what is actually happening outside each individual’s circle of vision. The first time I experienced it was in Bogota, Colombia, in 1979, when I was working at the US Embassy, in the Defense Attaché’s office. The US Ambassador was at a National Day reception at the Embassy of the Dominican Republic, which had been taken by a terrorist group. I wound up on the scene in the office’s armored SUV.
Find a tree
First, I had the address wrong. It was only one digit off, but the address I had placed the Embassy across the street from where it actually was. On arrival at the scene, I sought out the largest tree I could find and put it between me and the Embassy, which was under assault by a variety of police and military authorities. I couldn’t understand why the fellow next to me was firing in the wrong direction. He was shot and fell backwards; It only took a minute or two to realize I was displayed as an inviting target to the terrorists. I quickly found my way to the protected side of the tree.
The Hand-Off
The US Ambassador’s driver was pinned down in the driveway. I was reporting over the radio to the Deputy Chief of Mission’s office; I decided to retrieve the poor man, who was frozen in fear. I low-crawled out to him and pulled him backwards with me. When I had him protected by the tree, I was informed that one of the diplomats whom I knew was on-site to replace me. I passed what information I had to him, then loaded the driver into the SUV.
As I departed the back of the vehicle was shot several times, but it was armored and I didn’t care. I radioed the Embassy physician to meet me in the courtyard with a mild sedative before letting the authorities question him. He met me and took charge of his patient; I simply parked and walked with doctor and driver, yelling “No” to the endless string of people wanting to debrief the driver. Until he was in a calmer state, nobody was going to get anything out of him.
Slept Well
It took nearly six weeks to unravel what had happened and who was involved. In media res, the US Embassy came under attack. The Army Attaché and the Air force Attaché each took command of one corner, I took the third, the Marine Sergeant Major took the fourth. My world was diminished to a 90-degree field of view. An enterprising young man popped his head above the wall and shot at me; I shot back and his head snapped backwards. He never re-appeared. I slept perfectly well that night.
The usual Aftermath
There are sure to be tales of bravery and accomplishment by non-participants, and I don’t doubt that genuine heroes were punished. That, too, is part of the fog of war. In the words of Forrest Gump, shit happens. As I watch pundits on television shows trying to give definitive meaning to events at mass shootings, I realize they’re doing what they’re paid to do. Just as the crack whore on her knees in an alleyway is doing what she is paid to do. Neither leaves me feeling particularly clean.
Demands for instant answers are stupid, self-entitled and counterproductive. We know almost nothing, and most of that is wrong. We live in Nashville, and I sat in awe after the Las Vegas mass shooting, the worst in American history, as my older daughter and other public relations professionals came together to manage, carefully, the flow of information, with an eye on the need for double-confirmation of anything. I couldn’t do that. I’m happy that others can.
The fog of war is real, and any expectation that authorities can answer questions definitively will yield disappointment. We just have to wait.
I'm a young man. Part of me yearns to be heard. I search for avenues to outlet that yearning. That being said, I come recently more often to the conclusion that I best listen to the likes of you. Anything I might have to offer seems it would be a wisdom originating from a place of knowing not. Thank you for your life experiences and for your transparency and articulation of such, here.
My husband was in Vietnam during Tet. Same as you describe. No one knew what was happening.