The Army we have and how we get it

The Army We Have


To fight today?s wars with an all-volunteer force, the U.S. Army needs more
quick-thinking, strong, highly disciplined soldiers. But creating warriors
out of the softest, least-willing populace in generations has required
sweeping changes in basic training.

by Brian Mockenhaupt

...... Brian Mockenhaupt talks about the men and women who enter basic
training today, and how the Army has adapted to meet their needs.

Guns N? Roses? ?Welcome to the Jungle? begins to blare through the trees
behind us. ?On your feet!? a drill sergeant shouts at the hundreds of men
from Alpha and Charlie companies lining a street at Fort Benning. It?s 4:30
a.m. Down the road, the first soldiers from Delta Company, 2nd Battalion,
58th Infantry Regiment bob into view. After marching through the sticky
Georgia night for hours, they?re finishing the final field exercise of their
14 weeks of basic infantry training, and their fellow recruits, who are only
halfway through their training, are here to cheer them on. Sweat-slicked
hands clutch rifles. Their backs ache from 35-pound rucksacks. They stink,
and their feet burn. They rumble past, some smiling, others tight-lipped,
eyes straight ahead.

They turn into the woods and snake up a torch-lined road onto Honor Hill.
Dipping canteen cups into a barrel of blue Gatorade, they pass under an
archway into the compound, a circular clearing surrounded by an 8-foot wall
of railroad ties. They form up by platoons in a horseshoe before a stage
flanked by bonfires. A giant American flag hangs as a backdrop. Eight
torches flicker, each representing a war the U.S. Army has fought. A ninth
torch, soon to be lit, represents wars to come. ?This generation?s into
multimedia?the big show and the big production,? Captain Christopher Rusack,
the battalion chaplain, tells me. ?So we do it up for them. It gives them a
sense of the lineage, the heritage.?

The music changes to the score from The Last of the Mohicans. First Sergeant
Michael White steps into the horseshoe. ?Our mission is to seek out and
destroy the enemies of this nation on orders!? he shouts. ?That is now your
mission. Do you understand??

?Yes, First Sergeant!?

The men raise their canteen cups and toast to fallen comrades, to the
infantry, and to the United States of America. Their drill sergeants move
through the ranks, pinning the coveted crossed-rifles insignia of the
Infantry onto their left collar tip. Next week, they graduate. Within a few
months, many of them will be walking mountain passes in Afghanistan or
riding in Humvees through Baghdad. A few might be wounded. A few might be
dead. For now, they are giddy and glad to be done, high on adrenaline and
proud to be real soldiers. I know how they feel: I was one of them five
years ago, a new soldier ready for war. As Wagner?s ?Ride of the Valkyries?
from Apocalypse Now plays, they pass back through the arch, which bears the
inscription: From This Gate Emerge the Finest SOLDIERs the World has Ever
KNOWn. They believe this, because it is what they?ve been told: They are the
strongest, hardest, most disciplined, and most dedicated soldiers in the
world, part of the most rigorously trained, best-equipped army in the world.

But stagecraft and slogans belie the complexities of turning America?s youth
into a skilled fighting force. Since the end of the draft, more than 30
years ago, this is the first time the all-volunteer military has faced
sustained combat, and the demands on its human and material resources have
been heavy and relentless. At the same time, a relatively prosperous economy
and certain larger societal changes have made it harder for the Army to meet
its recruiting goals. As Lieutenant General Michael Rochelle, the Army?s
deputy chief of staff, testified to Congress in February, the confluence of
challenges in recruiting, training, and retaining soldiers is ?unparalleled
in the history of the volunteer force.?

To ease the deployment burden and give the military more options for dealing
with hot spots outside Iraq and Afghanistan, Defense Secretary Robert Gates
wants to boost America?s boots-on-the-ground combat power for the Army and
Marine Corps by nearly 60,000 over the next five years, adding 7,000
soldiers and 5,000 marines each year. The Marines have a somewhat easier
time recruiting; this is partly because they have religiously maintained
their elite status, drawing many who want to see if they are good enough for
the Corps, and partly because the Marines, as the smallest service branch
outside the Coast Guard, need the fewest bodies. But the Army doesn?t have
the luxury of selectivity in filling its expanded rolls. It needs 80,000 new
soldiers this year and must find them in a populace that is in many ways
less willing and less able to serve than earlier generations were. Young
people are fatter and weaker. They eat more junk food, watch more
television, play more video games, and exercise less. They are more
individualistic and less inclined to join the military. And with the
unemployment rate hovering near historic lows, they have other choices.

Yet now, more than at any time since Vietnam, the Army needs strong,
quick-thinking, highly disciplined soldiers. Combat units are being sent
onto battlefields that are more gray than black-and-white; soldiers on
patrol in places like Afghanistan and Iraq must understand something that
the Army itself has had a hard time learning: put bluntly, when to shake a
hand and when to shoot someone dead. Today?s soldiers must synthesize more
information than any American fighters before them, combining their
knowledge of tactics with an awareness of the cultural landscape and an
appreciation for the strategic implications of their actions.

Turning civilians into soldiers and teaching them to kill has always been
difficult work, but these new challenges and demands have made it harder
still, so the Army has made sweeping changes in the basic combat training
that every recruit must go through. Drawing on the experience of
battle-hardened veterans, the Army is incorporating the lessons learned in
Iraq and Afghanistan. But at the same time, its overwhelming need for more
soldiers puts limits on how tough its training can be. What if the physical
and cultural demands of becoming a soldier intimidate potential recruits
from signing up, or cause too many to wash out once they join? After all,
many of today?s military jobs require more brainpower and technical skill
than warrior ethos. (The tooth-to-tail ratio of combat soldiers to support
troops has dropped steadily since the Civil War and is now less than
1-to-7.) Is it worthwhile to make a soldier march 20 miles, even though his
or her actual job may never call for such a march? The Army?s answer to
these questions, for now, is to offer its recruits a less hostile
environment that won?t scare off as many people or make them quit: less
shouting, less running, more encouragement, more understanding.

Some weak or undertrained soldiers have always gotten through basic
training. When they show up at their assigned units, their comrades usually
bring them up to speed. But doing so takes time and detracts from a unit?s
overall preparedness. And now the Army finds itself facing a double bind:
Not only does the new approach to basic training let greater numbers of
less-fit soldiers get by; today?s accelerated deployment schedules give
units less time for collective training, let alone remedial attention. This
winter, for example, two combat brigades had to skip their counterinsurgency
and desert training at Fort Irwin, California, in order to deploy to Iraq as
part of President Bush?s ?surge? strategy. So far, there?s only anecdotal
evidence that the changes in basic training are infiltrating more of the
weak and the incompetent into the Army?s frontline units. But as the demand
for more boots on the ground continues to grow, imposing more pressure on
the Army?s ability to recruit, train, and retain personnel, so, too, will
questions about the long-term viability and strength of the nation?s
all-volunteer force.

In demographic terms, at least, the Army should have no recruiting problem.
Since the end of the draft, in 1973, the U.S. population has grown by almost
100 million. Meanwhile, with the end of the Cold War, the active Army shrank
from 780,000 members in 1989 to fewer than 500,000 in 1996. (The Army
expects to have 512,000 soldiers at the end of 2007; Gates?s plan would
raise that number to 547,000 by 2012.) And many more jobs within all the
services have been opened to women, who now make up about 15 percent of the
Army.

But in reality, the numbers game is stacked against recruiters. In the prime
age group for recruitment (17 to 24 years old), 7 in 10 are ineligible for
military service, Army officials say. More than half the members of this
youth cohort are disqualified for moral, mental, or medical reasons: They
have had too many run-ins with the law, or they have gang-related or
extremist tattoos; they have had psychiatric treatment for severe mental
problems or antisocial behavior; or they have been diagnosed with one or
more of a staggering list of medical conditions, from heart murmurs to
obesity. Other potential recruits have too many dependents, scored too low
on the Army aptitude test, or lack high-school or general-equivalency
diplomas. Take out those already serving or joining other branches, those
who are disclosed homosexuals, and those who are smart and healthy but have
no intention of ever entering the military, and the pool shrinks further.
From 1976 to 2001, the number of male high-school seniors who say they will
definitely join the military remained constant, at about 10 percent. But
those saying they would definitely not serve has risen, from 40 percent to
60 percent.

To expand the pool, the Army has in recent years added thousands of
recruiters, more than doubled certain enlistment bonuses to $40,000, and
granted more enlistment waivers for medical problems, past drug and alcohol
abuse, and criminal records. (In the past three years, the number of waivers
for criminal conduct jumped by 65 percent, to 8,129 in 2006.) The Army has
doubled its admittance of recruits who score between the 15th and 30th
percentiles on the Army aptitude test?up from 2 percent of total
recruits?and now accepts some recruits with tattoos on their hands and
necks. (The Marines, meanwhile, just instituted a rule significantly
restricting tattoos allowed on forearms, describing them as unprofessional
and contrary to the Corps? traditional values.) In the past year and a half,
the maximum enlistment age was raised from 34 to 40, and then to 42.

But finding willing and qualified candidates remains slow, tedious work. For
every potential soldier a recruiter sends to training, he?ll talk to 150 to
250 people. He?ll find them by making hundreds of cold calls, visiting high
schools, and walking through malls. Of these contacts, the recruiter will
conduct 20 face-to-face interviews. Four of those applicants will take the
Army aptitude test and physical exam. Just over half will score in the top
half on the aptitude test. Fewer than half will pass the physical. So by the
time recruits make it to training, the Army is keen to keep them there.

To this end, the Army has shifted the culture of basic training away from
the demeaning treatment and harsh indoctrination that have always
characterized standing armies. Drill sergeants are supposed to act more as
coaches and mentors than as feared disciplinarians. They yell less; swearing
and abusive language are no longer tolerated. ?We don?t have to break a
person down to make him a great soldier,? says Colonel Kevin Shwedo, the
director of operations for the Army?s Accessions Command within the Training
and Doctrine Command, or TRADOC. ?As a matter of fact, you are going to find
that tyrannical treatment is absolutely the wrong way to go. The most
effective teams don?t focus on breaking you down; they focus on building
your skills up and developing your self-esteem and ego.?

At the same time, Shwedo sees today?s recruits as the product of a society
that can?t quite figure out how to raise its children. ?Most kids coming
into the Army today have never worn leather shoes in their life unless it
said Nike, Adidas, or Timberland. They?ve never run two miles consecutively
in their life, and for the most part they hadn?t had an adult tell them ?no?
and mean it. That?s bizarre,? he says. ?Our society says you can?t count in
a soccer match, because you might hurt somebody?s feelings. Every kid is
going to get a trophy, whether or not you ever went to practice or ever won
a game.? But these societal shortcomings can be leveraged in the training
environment, Shwedo says. ?If you go up and do something as simple as slap a
soldier on the back and tell them they are doing a good job, you are giving
them the recognition that society hasn?t given them besides those cheap
trophies.?

The less-threatening and more-respectful environment helps recruit new
soldiers and lowers the attrition rate. About 6 percent of today?s trainees
fail to complete their first six months in the Army, down from 18 percent
two years ago. Advanced-training programs that prepare soldiers for groups
like the Army Rangers and Special Forces can afford washout rates of 60
percent or more. Applicants for these special units far outnumber available
slots, and a high failure rate maintains the groups? elite mystique. Perhaps
most important, the Army doesn?t lose these washouts; it sends them back to
their old units or to new assignments. But when the Army loses a new recruit
out of basic training, that body is gone, along with the invested time and
money. By the time a soldier graduates from initial training, the Army has
spent more than $30,000 on recruiting and training. An attrition rate of 18
percent would thus cost the Army $360 million a year.

Some attrition is unavoidable. Most of the recruits kicked out during their
first six months in the Army have preexisting medical or mental conditions
that were hidden from recruiters or simply overlooked. One recruit showed up
at Fort Benning, one of the Army?s five basic-training posts, with fresh
sutures from open-heart surgery. Another had a glass eye. Another was
suffering from heroin withdrawal. Others have had mental breakdowns or
homicidal thoughts. But many of the rest are kicked out for ?failure to
adapt,? and these losses are seen as preventable. Along with making the
training environment more tolerable, the Army nowadays also gives more
second chances. Before being kicked out, a recruit with attitude problems
will often be recycled one or more times to an earlier phase of training
with another company.

The Army has also changed its physical-training regimen to retain thousands
of trainees who might have been lost each year to injuries. It has scaled
back the runs and road marches and shifted its focus to gradually building
up weak bodies. Moreover, trainees injured today go to special
rehabilitation units; in the past, injured recruits were sent home to heal,
and many never came back.

In addition to shifting to a kinder and gentler approach, in late 2002,
TRADOC pulled together an Army-wide group to study whether recruits were
gaining the right skills. The study group asked field commanders what their
new soldiers lacked, and it incorporated lessons learned from Afghanistan.
Since then, the Army says, the training of recruits has become more directly
tuned to combat situations than ever before. In early 2003, training posts
started issuing rifles in the first days of basic training. Previously,
weapons were stored in locked rooms and drawn out only for trips to shooting
ranges and for field exercises. Now, recruits carry their rifles
everywhere?to physical training, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the
bathroom?just as they will while deployed. This change has cut down on
accidental shootings in Iraq and Afghanistan, Army officials say.

When recruits leave the company area, they load blank ammunition, mimicking
combat. They wear body armor in the field, getting used to its cumbersome
weight. They conduct convoy live-fire exercises and train more than previous
recruits did on administering first aid and on operating in urban
environments. They kick in doors, clear rooms, and react to gunfire and
explosions while walking through fake towns. They fire the heavy machine
guns and automatic grenade launchers they?ll use in Iraq, and they study
pictures of improvised explosive devices, or IEDs. Drill sergeants leave
items out of place around the barracks, encouraging recruits to pay close
attention to detail, preparing them for combat patrols. Last summer the Army
introduced more-intensive training on escalation of force, and soon every
recruit will have to administer and receive an IV?a task that, for novices,
can involve puddles of spilled blood.

Assessments of today?s basic training span from praise for producing
smarter, more effective, and more adaptable soldiers, to criticisms that new
soldiers are insufficiently disciplined and arrive at their units unable to
meet minimum standards. ?The standard when you go to combat doesn?t change,?
says First Sergeant David Schumacher, who oversees an infantry company from
the 10th Mountain Division, now in Iraq. (I deployed twice to Iraq with the
same company.) ?You still have to wear the same heavy gear. You still have
to fight under the same conditions. The weather doesn?t change. The vehicles
don?t change. What you do on patrol doesn?t really change. So why should
your initial entry into the military change? Why cut that down early, and
then all of a sudden there?s a gap between where they are when we get them
and where they have to be? That gap is what needs to be taken out.?

Anytime soldiers talk about basic training, one theme recurs: Every
generation of soldiers says they had it so much harder?their road marches
were longer, their drill sergeants meaner, their punishments more severe.
Their complaints, in turn, are dismissed as age-old bellyaching. I?d heard
plenty about the new face of basic training, mostly from old comrades
griping that recruits had gone soft. But I wanted to see for myself how this
new approach works, so I recently spent time with the Infantry Training
Brigade at Fort Benning, where I had trained for combat in 2002. No women go
through basic training at Benning, and most Army soldiers have jobs outside
the infantry. But plenty of clerks, medics, and truck drivers have found
themselves in firefights lately, and if standards have changed for frontline
troops, the ones kicking down doors in Ramadi, then training for the rest
has surely followed suit.

Joining the military shocks the system. And the further society drifts from
the ideals of the Army?shared hardship, individual sacrifice for the
collective good, institutionalized adherence to notions of integrity,
loyalty, and duty?the more alien the world of military training becomes.
Recruits on their first day shuffle through a line?everything from now on
will involve lines?and into the barber shop, where they sit in a chair for
about two minutes and rise without hair. It?s the quintessential shedding of
civilian identity: Now they look like everyone else. Soon they?ll be dressed
alike. And once they learn the jargon and lingo, they?ll sound alike, too.
There are no more choices, only following. They?ll live so close
together?showering, eating, and sleeping next to each other?that they?ll
soon forget what privacy means. They?ll be given a weapon, and they?ll
marvel at the power they hold. They?ll stab dummies with bayonets and subdue
each other in hand-to-hand combat. They?ll slowly unlearn one of society?s
cherished mantras: Sometimes, they?ll come to understand, violence is the
answer.

At Fort Benning, the journey starts at the 30th Adjutant General Reception
Battalion, where every recruit goes through several days of
in-processing?haircuts, uniforms, shots, paperwork?before being handed over
to a basic-training company. On this summer day, long lines of recruits,
some still wearing long hair and civilian clothes, wind through the
building. Because of the surge in volunteering that follows high-school
graduations, 30th AG swells with 2,000 men.

I?d come to see a handover ceremony and the first day of training. The
recruits stand in formation in the sun. Their new drill sergeants gather in
the shade, trading stories about IEDs and RPG attacks in Iraq and
Afghanistan. Golf Company?s commander, Captain Claude DeWitt Revels, stands
to the side, surveying his new recruits. ?Now the fight over there is so
decentralized that every private has the opportunity to affect the strategic
impact of the entire operation, either negatively or positively. Look at Abu
Ghraib,? he says. ?The Army?s done a good job of recognizing that every
soldier has an impact, and we try to drive that into them here. You matter.?

Today, Revels will be in the minority among his fellow basic-training
company commanders throughout the Army: He?s running his recruits through
the ?shark attack,? a longtime Army rite that?s frowned upon at higher
levels. At several basic-training posts, word was passed down curtailing the
practice, which is seen as excessive in an already-stressful environment.
But many in the Army consider the shark attack a key step in snapping bonds
to the civilian world. ?If we go easy on them here, it would be catastrophic
over there,? Revels says. ?They expect these guys to be hard on them, and we
owe it to them.? The coaching and mentoring will come later, but today is
pure shock therapy.

At the battalion barracks, where the recruits will live for the next three
and a half months, a dozen drill sergeants station themselves at intervals
along the wide walkway that runs from the road to the company area. They
pace and wait. Three trucks pull up and disgorge the recruits. The chaos
starts at once. ?Let?s go! Let?s go! Get off the bus! Get your *** over
there, private! Hurry up, you!? The 220 recruits scramble, frantic, knocking
into each other, reaching for bags from a pile dumped beside the road. They
sprint up the walkway, some with bags, others without. Then they form up in
three rows, facing a long cement stairway that leads up to the company
formation area. They stand at attention, chests heaving, sucking down air in
ragged gasps. Some tremble. Their eyes dart. Many faces show terror. The
drill sergeants stalk up and down the lines, their faces fixed in hard
masks. They stop behind recruits, inches from their ears, and yell. Every
command given today will be many decibels too loud. ?What is wrong with you?
Why are you moving? Answer me! Why? Don?t think, private! Why are you
moving? Is it because you can?t stand still?? ?No, Drill Sergeant,? the
recruit says, his voice soft and breaking. ?Then why are you moving? Don?t
frigging move!?

Most of the recruits clutch duffel bags to their chests, straining from the
effort. Inch by inch, the bags drop lower. ?Hold the bag up! Hold it up! Get
it up, you turd!?

Some bags are coming on another truck, so many recruits stand empty-handed.
?Everybody without a bag, face toward the right! Since you ain?t got a bag
to hold up, you?ll hold up those heavy-ass palms you got! Get your arms
straight out to your sides! Palms up!? Rivers of sweat race down flushed
cheeks. After several minutes, arms quiver. Neck and shoulder muscles burn.
?The air?s getting pretty heavy in your hands, huh private?? a drill
sergeant shouts. ?Heels together! Arms straight out to your sides, shoulder
level! You guys are unable to hold your own arms out? Stand up straight,
like a proud person!?

As each name is called, the recruits step out of the formation, heckled by
drill sergeants on the hill, and race up the stairs and into the company
formation area. They throw the bags into a massive pile and are divided into
four platoons. Sergeant First Class David Duchene, the company?s senior
drill sergeant, steps to the front of the formation. His voice booms.
?Discipline is the key to success here! Discipline is doing what you are
told, when you are told, no questions! Do you understand??

?Yes, Drill Sergeant!?

For all the evolution in military tactics, weaponry, and organizational
structure, the basic aim of military training?producing strong, disciplined
soldiers, skilled with their weapons?remains constant, and the core methods
are simple. You must look like everyone else. You must act like everyone
else. You must perform like everyone else. If you don?t, you will be
punished. Or worse, the group will suffer for your mistakes. To instill this
obedience, the Army taps into young people?s basic desire for acceptance,
and their abhorrence at being singled out for punishment or critique.

The threat of collective punishment for individual infractions is one of the
most powerful motivators in military training. I learned this lesson early,
and repeatedly, in my own basic training. One night as we slept, just a few
days into our training, two recruits left the barracks and walked toward
town, looking for a convenience store. A drill sergeant driving home picked
them up a short distance from the barracks. We were awakened, told what had
happened, and told we would be dealt with later. We fell back asleep knowing
the morning would bring pain.

?So you want to play games?? one of our drill sergeants said. ?OK, we will
play games.? He ordered us to squat and hold out our arms. The two recruits
stood in front of the formation, watching us and looking sheepish. ?Don?t be
mad at me; be mad at your friends standing up here,? the drill sergeant
said. He spoke in quick, clipped sentences, through a heavy Puerto Rican
accent. ?I am not doing this to you?they are doing this to you. Are you
tired? Do your legs hurt? You can look toward the sky and say, ?God, why is
this happening to me???

The other platoons filed past, stealing glances, on their way to breakfast.
We groaned and gritted our teeth. Sweat soaked our clothes. ?I want you to
be pissed at your friends. They did this to you. They don?t want to be part
of the team,? the drill sergeant barked. ?Now you are in Afghanistan. Twenty
of you are dead inside your security perimeter. Another 20 of you are
prisoners of Osama bin Laden, because two soldiers who were supposed to be
on guard duty decided they wanted to go get something to eat.? The morning
dragged on like that, for what seemed a very long time.

Armies throughout history have used punishments, ?beatings, and occasional
executions to maintain ?discipline. From the Romans to the Prussians to
America?s Civil War armies, soldiers knew and feared the whip, the stick,
and the fist. But for as long as leaders have smacked and flogged their men,
their contemporaries have urged a rethinking of the paradigm. In 1879, for
example, Army Major General John Schofield told West Point cadets that ill
treatment breeds not respect and compliance but resentment:

The discipline which makes the Soldiers of a free country reliable in battle
is not to be gained by harsh or tyrannical treatment. On the contrary, such
treatment is far more likely to destroy than to make an Army. It is possible
to impart instruction and to give commands in such a manner and such a tone
of voice as to inspire in the Soldier no feeling but an intense desire to
obey, while the opposite manner and tone of voice cannot fail to excite
strong resentment and a desire to disobey.

Schofield?s quote is popular in today?s Army. Soldiers learning to be drill
sergeants read it in Army Regulation 350-6, their handbook on training
recruits. The nine-week Drill Sergeant School mirrors the basic-training
cycle; its students, who usually have at least five years in the Army, live
like recruits. They wake by 5 a.m. and prepare rooms and uniforms for
inspection. They do everything the recruits will do?first performing the
task and then teaching it. They learn techniques for controlling and
motivating recruits and for managing stress?both the recruits? and their
own. The school?s training philosophy??Insist and assist??centers on
explaining the standard and then helping recruits achieve it, mirroring the
Army?s push for drill sergeants to be coaches and mentors, respected rather
than feared.

But new drill sergeants step into a climate very different from even their
own basic-training experience, and many have accepted the changes only
reluctantly. Until recently, recruits in their first several weeks of
training had no choice in what they ate; they simply took the next available
plate in the serving line. Now they can choose, from the first day. They can
also eat dessert?formerly a privilege to be earned?and drill sergeants can
no longer keep overweight soldiers from eating fattening foods. Many drill
sergeants find ways around this restriction, hovering near the desserts,
arms crossed; their presence is deterrent enough. Such old-school sergeants
also adjust the new physical-fitness standards. The program, designed by
sports physiologists to maximize fitness gains and minimize injuries, uses
graduated exercises to build strength and endurance. But one company
commander told me that if he stuck strictly to it, many recruits would fail
their physical-fitness test. Instead, he follows the outline but increases
the number of repetitions. Many drill sergeants also order their recruits to
do exercises before or after meals and before bed. To graduate, a male
soldier in the 17-to-21 age bracket must score at least 60 percent in each
category of the test. That?s 42 push-ups in two minutes, 53 sit-ups in two
minutes, and a two-mile run in 15:54 or less.

After four Fort Knox drill sergeants were prosecuted in 2005 for abuses of
basic trainees?including punching and hitting them, dragging one by his
ankles, and ordering another to swallow his own vomit?the Army reevaluated
its treatment of recruits. Investigators from the inspector general?s office
interviewed recruits at several training posts. Many described their drill
sergeants as role models and father figures, but others were less positive,
complaining about physical and verbal intimidation. The Army tightened its
prohibitions of vulgar or abusive language and treatment that could be
interpreted as hazing. My own drill sergeants? two favorite names for us
were ?***? and ?Weirdo.? (They told us *** was an acronym, for Dedicated
Infantry Combat Killers.) Now recruits must be referred to as ?private,?
?soldier,? or ?warrior,? or by last name.

Several drill sergeants told me the quality of technical- skills training
today, preparing recruits for imminent combat, far exceeds what they
received in basic training. But they also say the climate shift has led them
to second-guess themselves and to worry that their actions may be
misconstrued. ?Drill sergeants have their hands tied behind their backs.
They?re scared,? says one, now in his third year of training recruits. ?In
the past we never had to look over our shoulders.? He feels drill sergeants
are discouraged from introducing too much shock too fast and from making the
environment too stressful. ?What are we trying to do here, produce
combat-effective soldiers, or are we thanking them for joining the Army, and
letting them slip through the cracks because we need numbers?? There are
ways to tweak the system and keep the pressure high, he says. ?But someone
shouldn?t have to be in this position, figuring out ways to get around
stuff.?

Many drill sergeants have found ways to jettison the old-school ways and
still remain effective. Staff Sergeant Ernest Rodriguez, who is the father
of five daughters, spends a lot of time pondering how to motivate and
encourage while maintaining control and how to discipline without
demoralizing. He served four years in the Marine Corps, going through
recruit training in 1991, and that experience influences his style as a
drill sergeant. ?When I went through, it was nuts. We used to get ?smoked?
all the time,? he said, referring to any number of exercises used to
discipline soldiers. ?Now I try to use my time a little more wisely. You don?t
want to crush them all the time, because in the end you have a person who?s
not confident in himself, as a man. You?re not just making a soldier; you?re
making a man.?

I hadn?t seen Rodriguez since I left the Army a year ago, after our second
Iraq deployment. He had been my squad leader during our first Iraq tour, and
I knew he wanted to be a drill sergeant. Beyond his louder-than-normal
voice, he seemed made for the job. As a boss, he yelled very little but was
strict and respected. I met his basic-training company, Foxtrot 1/50th, at
the ?confidence course,? a series of log-and-rope obstacles in Fort Benning?s
vast pine forests. The recruits, now in their sixth day of basic training,
are in the initial three-week phase, known as Total Control. Drill sergeants
direct the recruits from the moment they wake up until the lights go out. In
a few weeks, the cadre will select recruits as platoon leaders, and the
group will be given more autonomy and responsibility. But for now, drill
sergeants control everything, marching recruits to meals, telling them when
to shower and when to drink water.

?First of all, I?m going to show them I?m crazy,? Rodriguez says. ?They?ll
know that right off the bat, because that adds to my power base. If they
think you?re like them, you?ll get no respect. When you?re by yourself and
you have 56 privates against one drill sergeant, and you don?t get any
respect from the get-go? Buddy, you?re going to have a hard time.? He builds
this power base by taking away their freedom to scratch their heads, stand
with their hands on their hips, hum a song. ?This is my house. You live by
my rules,? he explains to me. ?The average person at home doesn?t understand
what we?re doing right now. What we?re trying to achieve in the end is a
well-disciplined soldier with military bearing. And you cannot get your
military bearing just by simply telling them the rules and saying, ?Hey, you
can?t do this and you can?t do that.? Fifteen seconds later, they?d be doing
it again.? But if he gives them a speech while they?re in the push-up
position, he says, they?ll listen because they want the pain to go away.

Rodriguez, as one of the demonstrators for the confidence course, runs
through the obstacles, climbing ropes, scaling towers, and vaulting over
logs. Sweat slides down his face as he finishes. The recruits wait, anxious
to start. This will be their first opportunity in a week to act
individually, without mimicking the actions of the group. Here, in very
controlled form, is a bit of freedom. ?We?re going to burn off some baby fat
today, hooah?? Rodriguez yells. ?Hooah!? his platoon thunders, using the
Army?s all- purpose ?yes? response. ?You got some fear, right?? ?Hooah!?
?But you need to get the mission accomplished.? ?Hooah!? ?You need to find
that switch. You need to control that fear. And I?ll help you find that
switch.? ?Hooah!? The recruits attack the obstacles with war cries, cheering
and encouraging each other. Rodriguez watches, pleased.

Gone are the days of trying to jam recruits into the Army?s mold and
discarding them if they didn?t fit. And so, Army leaders devote
ever-increasing amounts of resources and brainpower to understanding today?s
youth. This leads to some strange and surprising conversations that feel
like marketing-strategy sessions. And in an odd role reversal from the
civilian world, many of the younger Army leaders and trainers I spoke with
favor harder training and a return to some old-school tactics, while those
who are older and more senior are quick to point out the positive attributes
of today?s youth and to try new ways to reach them. ?They can handle a very
chaotic environment probably better than us older types,? Colonel Scott
Henry, the Infantry Training Brigade commander at Fort Benning, tells me. ?I?m
still of the mind-set that I need to have quiet to write a paper or an
evaluation, to collect my thoughts, but these young cats can handle it. And
that?s very similar to the battlefield. They?re very bright. Maybe not as
fit, but that?s something that can come around.?

Henry has graduated 40,000 infantrymen, and during his tenure, he says, he
has reined in what he describes as fraternity-type hazing practices. To
teach his recruits, Henry focuses on what they know. He?s stored dozens of
movie clips on his computer, scenes from everything from The Last Samurai
and Black Hawk Down to Rudy and Remember the Titans. Each deals with one or
more of the seven Army values: loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service,
honesty, integrity, and personal courage. Many also address tolerance and
the importance of learning from other cultures?here Henry uses Kevin Costner?s
character in Dances With Wolves. The recruits will see a half dozen or more
clips at various briefings during their training.

One of Henry?s favorites comes from Saving Private Ryan, when the title
character, having just learned that his three brothers were killed in
combat, tells Captain Miller he doesn?t want to leave his comrades. Henry
clicks his mouse. The scene rolls on the flat-screen television hanging on
his office wall. ?Hell,? Private Ryan says, ?why do I deserve to go? Why not
any of these guys? They all fought just as hard as me.? ?Is that what they?re
supposed to tell your mother when they send her another folded American
flag?? Miller asks. ?Tell her that when you found me, I was here, and I was
with the only brothers I have left,? Ryan says. ?And that there was no way I
was going to desert them. I think she?ll understand that.? Henry turns back
to me, shaking his head, wearing a look of awe and reverence. ?I?ve seen
this over a hundred times, and I get choked up every time,? he says. ?It
resonates. It?s the quickest way. Now with officers and NCOs, you can have
them read a book. But for the young guy in training, this connects.?

Yet Henry?s office is also crowded with books on military history, and he
laces his speech with references to Spartan warriors who started their
military training at age 7 and Roman soldiers who were expected to march 20
miles in five hours, and 24 miles in five hours at the quick step. (The Army
standard is 12 miles in four hours.) He talks admiringly of the famed Union
Colonel Joshua Chamberlain, who marched his men more than 20 miles to
Gettysburg, in heavy wool uniforms, through the wet July heat. They held the
Union?s left flank on Little Round Top, fighting off several Confederate
advances and then counterattacking with a bayonet charge. He knows that
young people in past generations were physically tougher, but he still wants
his soldiers trained in the ideals of the samurai, the Native American
warrior, the citizen-soldiers of Athens. ?How do we create that mind-set??
he asks, with a missionary?s fervor.

The first real test of whether today?s changed approach to basic training
works comes after graduation, when the new soldiers move to their duty
stations. If they?re lucky, they?ll have several months before heading to
combat. To see how the Army?s new privates are assimilating, I visited my
old unit with the 10th Mountain Division, at Fort Drum in upstate New York.
The area is known for brutal winters, when frozen tears glue your eyes shut
during morning exercises. But in June, when I visited, thoughts were on the
sand and the heat as the company loaded gear into shipping containers for an
August deployment to Iraq. Of the 124 men now in Alpha Company, 2nd
Battalion, 14th Infantry Regiment, nearly half were still in basic training
when I had returned in June 2005 from my second deployment in Iraq. When I
came back to Drum a year later for my visit, about a third of the company
members were older soldiers in leadership positions, so in the lower ranks,
more than two-thirds were new. Several had arrived with the deployment just
two months away. The youngest, at 17, couldn?t leave for Iraq before his
birthday, in October.

New soldiers are issued gear, assigned to a platoon, and expected to catch
up to the rest as quickly as possible. The stronger and more disciplined
they are, the easier their transition. The runs and road marches are longer
and faster than in basic training; one morning during my visit, they ran 12
miles. The field exercises are more elaborate, and soldiers are given less
room for error. Most of the new arrivals are good soldiers, but too many are
falling short, says First Sergeant David Schumacher, the company?s senior
enlisted soldier. In the past month, the company had received six new
privates, four of whom failed to meet one or more of the minimum Army
standards for weight, physical training, road marching, or shooting. ?It?s
hard to train a soldier that is out of shape, out of the height and weight
standards, and doesn?t want to be here. And I?ve been seeing more and more
of that side of the spectrum lately,? Schumacher says.

Every platoon sergeant and squad leader I spoke with told me a version of
this story: Many of the new privates are smart and eager; they?re quick
learners and they know what they?ve gotten themselves into, joining the
infantry in wartime. But too many are physically weak, are undisciplined, or
have mental and emotional problems that should have gotten them screened out
at basic training, if not earlier by the recruiter.

Those on the training end, people like Colonel Shwedo at TRADOC, insist that
these complaints are nothing new and do not reflect the overall quality of
soldiers coming out of basic training. They say that some minority of Army
leaders will always contend that their new soldiers are weak or
undertrained. ?We?ve been doing this since the beginning of time,? Shwedo
told me. He acknowledges that in an organization that trains thousands of
recruits each year, some who don?t measure up will slip through the cracks.
But, he adds, once they arrive at their unit and have more focused,
individualized attention, they quickly adapt and improve, or the system
weeds them out.

Yet as a deployment nears, training time focuses almost solely on collective
tasks?conducting raids and ambushes as a platoon, moving through a town
while taking fire, clearing houses, and reacting to IED attacks. A company
has less and less time to work on individual soldiers who are physically
weak or can?t shoot well. ?They?re basically putting the burden on us,
because now we have to slow everyone else down to bring [one] guy up. And it?s
kind of hard for us because instead of hurting one guy, we?re hurting
everyone,? says Sergeant First Class Terrell Blackman, the platoon sergeant
for 3rd Platoon. ?I?m not trying to say, ?Don?t send us soldiers,? because
we need them. Pretty much what they?re doing is setting us up for failure.?

Alpha Company senior leaders see a more pervasive problem, beyond the
handful of soldiers who can?t do enough push-ups. They say the Army?s
initial training falls short on instilling intangibles like discipline and
drive. ?I get a lot of guys that are just whiners,? Schumacher says. On many
mornings, he?ll have a line of soldiers waiting to see the physician
assistant for sick call, especially when a long run or road march has been
scheduled for physical training. Schumacher, who fought as a private in
Somalia in 1993, says he would not deny a soldier a sick-call visit for a
legitimate injury. Often, though, the complaints are minor. ?Back then?I?m
not sure when ?back then? was?but if you went on sick call, you were a
dirtbag in front of everybody,? he says.

Schumacher and Captain Joseph Labarbera, Alpha Company?s commander, have
discussed the subject often, and they?ve drawn the same conclusions. ?They?re
never challenged. They?re not driven,? Labarbera says. On a recent 12-mile
road march, a new private quit after two miles, saying he?d gotten a blister
on his foot. Labarbera ripped the American-flag patch off the private?s
shoulder and stuffed it down his shirt?since he quit, the captain said, he
wasn?t worthy of being an American soldier. ?It?s not unreasonable that a
kid can road-march 12 miles in less than three hours,? he says. ?It?s not
unreasonable that a kid can pull off a 20-mile movement during a day. It?s
not unreasonable that a kid can shoot expert with his rifle. It?s not
unreasonable that a kid is disciplined, that no matter what I tell him to
do, he?s going to do it at double-time. That?s what I want of a new recruit.
These kids don?t do *** at double-time.?

To instill the hardness he felt his men lacked, Labarbera started
?Born-Again Hard? events. Every six weeks or so, the soldiers leave the
barracks around nightfall carrying weapons and wearing body armor, web gear,
helmet, and full rucksack. By dawn they will have walked as much as 20
miles. Navigating with map and compass, they find their way to a half dozen
stations around Fort Drum, setting up ambushes or raids, searching and
questioning prisoners, and practicing calling in medevac helicopters. For
the station they call the ?House of Pain,? they return to the barracks and
don boxing gloves and headgear. In two-man teams, they face off with two of
the unit?s older, stronger soldiers. One man starts doing push-ups: The idea
is that he?s covering his buddy by providing suppressive fire. The other man
is free to hit the two soldiers, who cannot hit back so long as the first
man does push-ups. As soon as he stops?once the man has failed his buddy?the
two soldiers can hit back. ?Most of them have never been in a fight in their
lives. They?re almost docile,? Labarbera says. ?They want to be men, they
want to be soldiers, they want to be aggressive. They?re just never shown
how. We?ve got to instill that in them.?

New soldiers in Alpha Company speak of Labarbera?s events with disbelief and
dark humor. They speak of shared misery, like walking for hours on
minus-15-degree nights. But they speak of shared accomplishment, too. They
trade favorite stories, about falling through ice or being knocked out cold
in the House of Pain. Many say their basic training prepared them for their
arrival at their duty station, but their impressions of training follow a
pattern: Those who came to Alpha Company below or barely at Army standards
told me basic training had been as stressful as they had imagined; they said
they were pushed to their limits, and felt they improved because of it.
Those who exceed the standard, who don?t draw the ire of their leaders, were
more apt to describe basic training as lacking in intensity and quality
control.

Private Leland Shanle started basic training with a head full of stories
from his uncle, who had been a drill sergeant. ?He was telling me Full Metal
Jacket is pretty damn accurate,? he says. Training ?still sucked, but it was
a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. It got me in better shape,
but not nearly as good of shape as it should have. And they graduated
everyone but four people, no matter how big of shitbags they were, no matter
how terribly they flunked the PT test. One guy graduated and he couldn?t do
four push-ups. Four. What the drill sergeant said was, he can?t do
anything?he can?t weed out the shitbags, the people who will not make it in
the Army and are a danger to other people. After a while, they were just so
frustrated. I felt bad for them.?

Basic training, by necessity, caters to the lowest common denominator,
bringing the weak up to a passing standard. The struggling recruit receives
the most attention. If the program were too rigorous, the standards too
high, the Army would graduate very good soldiers, but too few. Ask anyone
who has been through basic training?five years ago or 50?and he?ll still
know the names of those who shouldn?t have graduated, but did. We had ours.
The most notable, for his effect on the platoon, I?ll call Private Smith.
Weak and careless, he antagonized other members of the platoon and rejected
any sense of shared responsibility. At first, our drill sergeants focused on
him and punished him for his mistakes and shortcomings. Then they punished
us. The platoon?s animosity toward Smith was a cohesive force. People
watched Smith, how he acted and how he was treated by others, and realized
they?d all soon be responsible for each other?s lives. They realized how
much they didn?t want to be the person to let down their buddies.

One Sunday afternoon, I stood in the bathroom with most of my platoon and
watched one of my good friends beat Smith. He threw him to the floor,
punching him on the way down, then slammed his foot into his ribs. ?Do you
want pain?? he shouted. ?I?ll give you pain!? Nobody cheered, nobody
laughed, few people even spoke. We just watched. We knew this moment was
coming, had been for weeks. Smith bawled. His eyes darted, terrified,
searching for an ally. Another recruit stepped forward. ?Every time you get
in trouble, it comes back on us,? he said. ?So from now on, we?re going to
put it back on you, tenfold.? The beating subdued Smith. He sometimes
stumbled during his final weeks of training, and we were sometimes punished.
But he graduated and left for his duty assignment. Watching him progress, we
learned a truth: The great majority of recruits, unless they sabotage
themselves or suffer a severe injury, will graduate training. This is not
survival of the fittest, nor is it intended to be.

In Iraq, I had two soldiers with non-combat-related mental problems in the
team that I was leading. One said he imagined killing his comrades, myself
included. This admission came to light on a dusty village backstreet,
minutes before neighborhood kids threw a grenade at another section of our
patrol and a passing car sprayed the soldiers with gunfire?a terrible time
to find out you can?t trust one of your men. The other soldier said he was
depressed and had flashes of uncontrollable anger. Both told me they?d had
these conditions since childhood. One had informed his recruiter, who told
him not to worry about it; the other had lied because he knew disclosure
would keep him out of the Army. I took them to appointments with counselors
and psychiatrists, and they met for several hours with their platoon leader
and the company commander and the first sergeant, who each had to take time
away from coordinating and conducting combat operations. Both soldiers had
their rifles taken away?they couldn?t be trusted with firearms?which left
our platoon short-staffed for combat patrols. Both were kicked out of the
Army shortly after we returned from Iraq.

These two soldiers surely could have passed through training 10, 20, or 50
years ago. Moreover, today?s Army undoubtedly includes some excellent
soldiers who couldn?t have enlisted under the older, more stringent
criteria. And some of the new training methods?like having recruits spend
more time carrying, shooting, and cleaning their weapons?are effective, and
were long overdue. But when the Army softened the culture of basic training,
it did so not to attract better recruits, but to get more bodies into the
service and keep them there.

At the same time, the Army is putting soldiers onto more-complex
battlefields, where a single soldier?s actions can hinder the war effort in
far-reaching and long-lasting ways. The Army wants soldiers who see
themselves as more than just trigger pullers, soldiers who understand
subtleties and can apply critical analysis to a situation and adapt. But by
letting the intensity and rigor of their early training waver, the Army is
in effect asking them to think outside the box before they?ve learned how to
operate within it.

The Army?s problem, however, is really just the nation?s problem writ small.
The number of Americans serving in the military has steadily shrunk from
more than 1 in 10 during World War II to fewer than 1 in 100 today. The
all-volunteer military has allowed most Americans to distance themselves
from national service, forcing the Army in particular to work harder and
spend more to get the people it needs. As former Defense Secretary Donald
Rumsfeld said in another context, ?You go to war with the Army you have.
They?re not the Army you might want or wish to have at a later time.?

Until more Americans are more willing, more able, or perhaps more compelled
to serve, the Army must maintain an effective all-volunteer force with the
people it has and the limited number of additional people it can recruit.
And that larger conundrum is beyond the power of any generals, captains, or
drill sergeants to solve.


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