Operation Anaconda - View of Tactical Air Controler - update

[2RHPZ]

Note how long he said the 6 apaches stayed in the fight.

A Message from Operation Anaconda Editor's Note: The following e-mail message
from an Air Force Tactical Air Control Party officer recounts the intense
fighting in Afghanistan during Operation Anaconda.

Friends and Family,

Many of you know my goal has always been to lead men in combat. I assumed it
would be with a four-ship at 20,000 feet with 2000-lb. LGBs. Little did I
know it would be 12 guys on the ground with rucksacks and an M-16 rifle.

With that in mind I thought I would give everyone a different perspective of
Close Air Support (CAS), i.e. from the ground looking up as opposed to the
other way around. Let me begin by saying we are all back at Kandahar
refitting and preparing for the next operation. No KIA and only one Purple
Heart (nothing serious) - a fact I am most proud of.

For those who have not been following the situation, a little background: The
3rd Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division (nicknamed the "Rakkasans")
provided the bulk of the conventional forces as well as command and control
for Operation Anaconda. The 101st is an Air Assault Division, meaning they
use helos as the primary means of delivering themselves to the battlefield (a
la Vietnam). As the Air Liaison Officer (ALO) to the Rakkasans, I commanded
the Tactical Air Control Party

(TACP) that provided all the conventional ground forward air controllers
(GFACs, also known as ETACs, Enlisted Terminal Air Controllers).

As it turned out, Operation Anaconda was the largest tactical ground battle
since Desert Storm, and the Army had no artillery and only a few mortars. CAS
was therefore the only means of indirect fire support, making our job
critical to success.

Simply put, we jumped off the birds right into the middle of a hornet's nest:
the quintessential "hot LZ." Almost immediately, everyone came under small
arms and mortar fire. Within the first 30 minutes five of six AH-64 Apaches
were hit and although none were shot down, all were NMC (non-mission capable)
for the next few days. This put even more pressure on my guys to save the day
and keep the enemy off us until the Army could take cover and return fire.
They performed magnificently. A few quick stories to drive home the effect
CAS can have:

I'll never forget one of my guys who was pinned down for 18 hours in roughly
the same place, within 500 meters of their original LZ. I went in with the
brigade commander and a small security detachment on the top of a small
sliver of mountain we thought would be secure (more on that later). I could
overlook his position and saw where some of the fire was coming from.

Between the two of us we controlled for eight hours straight, bombing the
ridgelines. Right in the middle of it, when it looked like his position might
be overrun, he (the ETAC) made a desperate call. "B-52, I want you to put
every fu#@ing bomb you have on that fu#&ing ridgeline, right fu#&ing now!"
When I jokingly reminded him that someone was probably taping this he
responded, "Sir, if I survive this they can court-martial me for poor radio
discipline."

"Roger that," I responded, "B-52 you heard the man, bomb the fu#&ing
ridgeline with everything you got right fu#&ing now!" A hell of a show.

Back to that sliver of rock on top of the mountain. We starting taking fire
and mortars from a concealed position below us, so I called in asking for
some LGBs (laser-guided bombs). Little did I know I would get F-16CG's and
none other than "Bodhi", a lieutenant of mine I flew with in Osan, Korea.
(He's an instructor pilot now by the way, my how they grow up). I talked him
on to the target, which was inside danger-close criteria of 425 meters. I
must say after he shacked the target, we never took fire from that location
again.

Bodhi was great. He stuck around even though AWACS yelled at him twice,
warning they had no gas for his RTB back to Saudi Arabia (or Kuwait, not
sure). Never heard if he diverted into Pakistan, but I do know he drinks for
free the next time I meet him in the bar. His last words before checking off
were, "Dino, no ****, keep your head down." Bodhi always was the master of
the obvious.

I could go on and on with stories about my guys, but suffice to say by the
end of day two, no Army soldier would walk more than 50 meters from an ETAC,
and no one fell asleep until they heard the sound of fighters and AC-130s
overhead. The ETACs controlled hundreds of deliveries from everything in the
inventory: fighters, bombers, AC-130s, Navy, even a few French aircraft. They
did all this over 12 days with NO FRATRICIDE and NO FRIENDLY LOSES IN TASK
FORCE RAKKASAN! A truly incredible accomplishment that is a testament to the
dedication and bravery of 12 enlisted professionals. I'm proud to have had
the chance to lead them.

I know this has been long-winded and I thank you for your patience, but I
thought everyone (especially the pilots) should know what a difference CAS
can make to a few grunts on the ground. I know I will never look at CAS the
same again.

Best of Luck and Check 6,

"Dino"

[2RHPZ]

COMBAT CONTROLLER: Air Force Sgt. Mike is awarded the Purple Heart
for his rescue mission during a Taliban prison riot in Afghanistan.
US AIR FORCE



Elite Air Force scouts brave friendly fire, runaway horses

Combat controllers link the lethal duo of special operations and
precision air power.

By Ann Scott Tyson | Special correspondent of The Christian Science
Monitor

WASHINGTON ? Blasted high into a cloud of heat and dust by an
errant, 2,000-pound guided missile, the Air Force sergeant thought
he'd left earth behind for good. Unable to see or hear, he felt
himself lofting over a chaotic Afghan battlefield into a quiet,
numbing blackness.
"It was just a floating feeling of being pulled upward ... total
sensory deprivation," said the sergeant, Mike, whose full name was
withheld by the military. Sgt. Mike landed alive ? inside an ancient
Afghan fort filled with armed, rioting Taliban and Al Qaeda
prisoners.

It was late last November, and Sgt. Mike ? a member of a highly
specialized, little-known group of elite US fighters known as combat
controllers (CCTs) ? and his team were at the prison uprising near
Mazar-e Sharif trying to recover the body of slain CIA agent Johnny
Michael Spann.
If the war in Afghanistan has showcased a lethal partnership of US
Special Operations Forces and precision air power ? combat
controllers are the critical go-betweens, the most sophisticated
human ground to air link.
Now on brief rotations back home from Afghanistan, some of the first
CCTs on the ground in the Afghan war are telling their stories. They
are stories of bravery and ingenuity, of spotting targets from
horseback using laptops and laser goggles, of melding 19th century
Afghan warfare with 21st century US military technology in
unprecedented ways.
"Nobody out there knows more about the ground plan and the air plan,
so when things go bad we are the ones who try to pull it all
together," says Senior MasterSgt. Robert Rankin, commandant of the
Combat Control School at Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina. "Our
main job is to bring calm to chaos."
A TINY force of less than 400 men, CCTs are in such demand that the
Air Force has imposed a "stop loss" order, barring any from leaving
or retiring. Experts in setting up remote landing strips and drop
zones, guiding warplanes with radios and radar, and calling in
strikes for ground troops, their motto is "First There." Indeed, in
Afghanistan, CCTs were among the first to arrive behind enemy lines,
infiltrating the country with US special operationsteams about a
month after Sept. 11 to begin spotting targets for the Northern
Alliance.
One of those spotters, Sgt. Calvin, landed north of Kabul and within
30 hours called the first airstrikes on Taliban positions, according
to an Air Force account released last month.
Northern Alliance officers were so impressed that during an intense
firefight with Taliban forces, one of them moved to shield Calvin.
"He said if something happened to him ... someone else would step
in," Calvin said. "But if something happened to me, the planes could
not come."
Round-the-clock bombing followed. Calvin and others directed more
than 100 sorties by B-52s, F-18s, and other US warplanes, shattering
Taliban defenses. The battle for the capital that military planners
estimated would last six months took 25 days.
Key to the success was the precision with which Calvin and others
helped pilots miles above to steer the "smart bombs." Using
binoculars, laser target-designators, Global Positioning Systems
devices, and radios, the CCTs helped ensure the pilots "saw" the
correct targets.
In the battle for Mazar-e Sharif and other towns, CCTs like Sgt.
Mike took positions on hilltops, using tripods and laser goggles to
pinpoint strikes that coincided with calvary charges by Afghan
fighters. "The timing was so precise that, as the soldiers described
it, hundreds of Afghan horsemen literally came riding out of the
smoke," said Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld of the Mazar assault.
Mike's Afghan odyssey began in early November, when his special
forces team infiltrated Afghanistan by helicopter 30 miles south of
Mazar-eSharif to work with a Northern Alliance general.
"At first we stayed in caves," says Mike. By day, the Americans
worked on battle plans with Afghan commanders.
At night, temperatures plunged, and they bundled in sleeping bags on
cave floors. Soon, Mike's group of US and Afghan troops broke camp,
heading out to capture a string of Taliban villages leading to
Mazar-e Sharif. Mike, however, faced a more immediate challenge:
learning to control the large white horse the Afghans had heaved him
on.
"It was pretty intimidating," said Mike, whose training included
free-fall parachuting, escapes from sinking helicopters, and
"drownproofing" with bound hands and feet ? but no equestrian
course. In open fields, the horse would run off with him in the
saddle, but the airman was relieved to learn it "was basically on
auto-pilot" on narrow mountain paths.
On the battleground, success came more smoothly. The Northern
Alliance general would climb a hill with the US team and point out
the Taliban-ruled villages below. "We would bomb-strike it, and once
the NA [Northern Alliance] general felt there was nothing more they
could do with air power, he would call on his radio and the [Afghan]
troops would rush the town on horseback...and push out or wipe out
the Taliban," recalls Mike.
The series of defeats hastened the fall of Mazar-e Sharif. "The
Taliban knew we were coming ... and as we got closer, they pretty
much hopped in their cars and left," says Mike. The victory was
followed in mid-November by the pell-mell retreat of the Taliban
from cities across the north, including Kabul.
But for Mike, the most intense combat was yet to come.
Late on the night of Nov. 25, his commander told him that several
hundred Taliban and Al Qaeda prisoners had broken out of a holding
cell at the nearby fort of Qala-e Jhangi. They had killed a CIA
agent who was interrogating prisoners, taken over an ammunition
dump, and were wiping out many Northern Alliance troops. Mike and
his team were tasked with recovering the agent's body.
Early the next morning, as they approached the dusty fort in Toyota
pickups, Mike could hear gunshots and mortar rounds exploding.
Taking up a position on the fort's northwest wall, he set up his
radios as other team members fired their M-4 machine guns.
Quickly, they began to draw heavy enemy fire, and Mike's commander
decided it was too risky for the team to enter the fort.
"There were mortar rounds dropping all over us," recalls Mike. "We
had to do something big or we were going to get hit."
"Something big" meant air power ? more specifically "close air
support," the riskiest kind. Something went badly wrong. Instead of
striking the enemy grouped at the south end of the fort, the
satellite-guided missile hit a Northern Alliance tank, killing five
Afghan fighters, and injuring five members of Mike's team.
WHEN Mike hit the ground, he was buried in dirt and surrounded by
rubble. As light pierced the dust he found himself and his injured
comrades inside the fort, vulnerable to Taliban fire. The group
scrambled back over the north wall ? carrying an unconscious Army
captain ? and drove to safety. Mike was evacuated the same day, and
later awarded the Purple Heart.
Recovering now at Hurlburt Air Force Base in Florida, where he is a
member of the 23rd Special Tactics Squadron, the young combat
controller is awaiting his next assignment.
He says he's ready, but admits Afghanistan sobered him. "Being in a
combat zone," he says, "... is a big eye-opener to see how real war
is."

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Secret Weapons -- The airmen who are winning the ground war
Air Force Times | April 8, 2002 | Lance M. Bacon

BAGRAM AIR BASE, Afghanistan ? The unit was only two miles short of its
destination when Senior Airman Sean Lloyd grabbed his knee.

The soldiers next to him later recalled how the airman?s face contorted in pain,
how he gritted his teeth to prevent the sound from escaping into enemy
territory.

For eight days, Lloyd and the men from the 10th Mountain Division (Light
Infantry) had humped the rugged, jagged slopes surrounding the Shah-e-Kot
valley. The unit had endured freezing temperatures and almost constant enemy
contact. Now, two miles short of the final battle position, Lloyd had torn the
ligaments in his knee. With a busted knee in this environment, two miles might
as well be 200.

Lloyd is a Tactical Air Control Party member, an airman who eats, sleeps, works
and fights alongside some of the toughest grunts you?ll ever find. TACPs call in
air support. They are often underappreciated ? and, they would say, underfunded
and underequipped.

But as Operation Anaconda ranged up and down this remote valley in eastern
Afghanistan in early March, there were those who said it was these young
enlisted men ? not the pilots in cockpits ? who won the battle.

At the very least, they kept a well-armed and determined enemy off the backs of
a lot of soldiers.

One Special Forces staff sergeant, who asked not to be identified, called TACP
his "American Express card ? I don?t leave home without it."

Despite his pain, Lloyd refused to be evacuated. He picked up his 120 pounds of
equipment and headed out. The next two miles were certain to be littered with
enemy forces, and Lloyd was the company?s sole link to air support ? a crucial
link that soon would be called upon.

"He didn?t give up at all," said Pfc. Michael Hudson, the Army forward observer
who teamed with Lloyd. After his injury, "he still engaged enemy troops on a
hilltop and nailed a cache up there. He hung, no doubt about it."

When the unit returned to Bagram two days later, Lloyd arrived carrying his own
gear and walking on his own two feet. He was later flown to Kuwait where he was
to undergo emergency surgery.

The soldiers of Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 87th Regiment talk about Lloyd in
tones of awe, but such talk is not uncommon in these parts. Combat commanders
say airmen like Lloyd have greatly aided the war effort. Practically every
soldier, from the private to the seasoned battlefield commander, has a story
about how an airman saved his tail.

And people here ? high-level people ? are talking about the exploits of one
airman in particular. They?re throwing around words like "heroism," "personal
risk" and "above and beyond." Some have spoken of an Air Force Cross. Some even
say his actions warrant the nation?s highest military honor.

"Our TACPs have performed better than I could have ever expected," said Lt. Col.
Kenneth Rozelsky, 682nd Air Support Operations Squadron commander. "In the three
months I?ve been here, I?ve seen young boys turn into men.

"One of the hardest things I?ve had to do is shake their hand as they?re going
out to the helicopter," said Rozelsky, an F-15E weapons systems officer by
trade. "On the first day of Anaconda, we had over 40 calls from ground [forward
air controllers] that they were taking fire. Knowing that they were our guys out
there ? my young men ? that?s been the toughest thing for me."

Making the difference

Simply put, TACPs carry air power to the battlefield. Two-man teams carry up to
130 pounds of gear each and accompany soldiers ? no matter where they go or how
long they?re out. Through a variety of equipment, primarily the PRC-117F
multiband tactical radio, TACPs have at their disposal every asset in the skies
above. And when calling in anything from helicopters and AC-130 gunships to
fighters and bombers, TACPs often are under heavy enemy fire.

Just ask Army Capt. Scott Taylor, fire support officer for the 1st Battalion,
87th Regiment of the 10th Mountain Division.

Taylor was part of a battalion team that landed at Landing Zone 13 in the
southern part of Shah-e-Kot valley, in eastern Afghanistan, in the battle?s
opening moments.

The unit?s mission was to block an enemy escape route, but there was a slight
problem ? the helos set down on the route itself, right where the enemy?s
defenses were oriented.

"I think the enemy was shocked to see us land there," Taylor said. "They had the
high ground and took advantage of it."

Heavy fire rained down on the unit and kept it pinned down for about 18 hours,
Taylor said. But hunkered down in some low ground, Tech. Sgt. Vick McCabe and
Senior Airman Stephen Achey went to work. Throughout the day, McCabe called in
fast-movers and B-52 Stratofortresses. Achey took over at night. He primarily
used the AC-130 gunship and registered at least 23 kills.

Without TACPs "the enemy could have put a lot more pressure on us," said Taylor,
who has six years in the Army. "Air support definitely kept their heads down. In
the end, we prevented anybody from ?exfiltrating.? We had them tied down just as
well as they had us tied down."

Taylor?s unit wasn?t alone. The Defense Department won?t say how many air
strikes occurred during Operation Anaconda, but sources put the number between
150 and 175 strikes during the first 10 days. As one air liaison officer put it,
U.S. forces didn?t run out of airplanes, they ran out of airspace. At times, air
power was stacked high ? helicopter gunships and A-10 Thunderbolts flying low
routes, AC-130 gunships flying slightly higher at night, fast-movers in the
10,000-foot range and heavy bombers above them.

"Trying to get that many fighters and bombers coordinated to drop bombs on
multiple targets in the small chunk of land we were working in is difficult,"
said Capt. Joe Locke, a member of the 18th Air Support Operations Group, 18th
Airborne Corps.

An F-16CJ pilot for seven years, Locke was part of Coalition Task Force
Mountain?s air support operations center. The operations center gets a
controller?s request and picks the best plane for the job. Locke hooked up with
the ASOC five days before Anaconda kicked off. It?s a mission he remembers well.

"Things were really chaotic," he said of Anaconda?s first day. "For the first 12
to 24 hours, we were striving to get air out there. After a while, we started to
notice patterns. It would be quiet, then a bunch of requests would come in at
once. It really was feast or famine."

Response times ranged from minutes up to an hour, and some low-priority missions
were flat-out denied due to the lack of airspace.

There also were times when Locke had multiple troops in contact. Air support was
in such demand that many fighters broke two steadfast rules: Two-ship formations
broke into individual missions and pilots regularly went below their "bingo"
line ? the amount of fuel necessary to safely get them home.

But such risks had to be taken, said Master Sgt. Karl Hauser, an enlisted
tactical air controller ? or ETAC ? with the 20th Air Support Operations
Squadron, 10th Mountain Division. The 18-year veteran said there simply wasn?t
enough direct fire support. Mortars were few and far between, and artillery was
nonexistent.

"Air support is all they had and what made the difference. And I think our Army
counterparts will back that up," Hauser said.

They do. Many soldiers affectionately called air support their "flying
artillery." Taylor described his ETACs as "awesome."

"Every Army commander from the two-star down has come over and said, ?If it
wasn?t for your guys, we would have had many more casualties,? " Locke said. "It
really makes you feel like you made a difference."

Such a difference, in fact, that now there are not enough TACPs to go around.

"A battalion normally has about six TACPs with them," Rozelsky said. "When
Anaconda set out, there wasn?t a company commander that didn?t want two TACPs
with them. They wanted someone with them every step of the way."

"That popularity makes you feel good but also makes you feel stretched," said
Senior Airman Trevor Bradford of the 20th Air Support Operations Squadron. "You
don?t want to be the one to drop the ball."

It?s apparent that none of these airmen like to drop anything.

Hanging tough

Be it a blessing or a curse, TACPs are creatures unto themselves and don?t
really have a service to call their own.

Airmen don?t seem to understand TACPs because they spend their entire careers on
Army bases or in the field. Soldiers are at a loss, too. While the TACPs do all
that dirty grunt stuff alongside them, well, they are in the Air Force.

So where do controllers belong? Right where they are.

"This is a good setup here," said Master Sgt. Hal Sullivan, of the 22nd Air
Support Operations Flight, 3rd Special Forces Group. "We?ve got a tent, a cot, a
shower and plenty of aircraft. What else do you need?"

Spoken like a true ETAC.

The air controllers at Bagram are proud to be airmen, and proud that they keep
step with the soldiers. They?re quick to point out that they carry everything
the typical solider carries, plus their ETAC gear. As one airman put it, "We
out-Army the Army."

"A lot of people look at the Air Force as the weakest physical service, then
they see us out there with them, carrying heavier rucks and hanging with them,"
Bradford said. "We can hang with the Rangers, we can hang with the [Special
Forces], we can hang with any ground-pounder."

And it?s not just any grunt they?re hanging with here. The men of the 10th
Mountain Division are among the world?s best at conquering difficult terrain.

Bagram is located at roughly 5,000 feet ? about the same elevation as Denver.
But patrols typically take TACPs into the 10,000-foot range and have gone as
high as 12,000 feet.

"This high an altitude is tough," said Airman 1st Class Peyton Knipple. "The
ruck is heavy, but it gets a lot heavier when you can?t breathe from lack of
oxygen. But it?s something we just have to adapt to."

Soldiers are exposed to the elements for as many as 10 days at a time. They
endure temperatures that differ as much as 60 degrees between hot days and
bitter-cold nights. They hump up and down jagged slopes for up to 15 hours a
day.

And ETACs are right beside them every step of the way, gaining respect by the
day.

Capt. Roger Crombie said he has nothing but respect for the senior airman who
was attached to his company for the first 10 days of Anaconda. Crombie is
commander of Alpha Company, 1st of the 87th. His ETAC was Senior Airman Lloyd.

Crombie?s unit landed about a mile northeast of Taylor?s stick in Shah-e-Kot. On
D-plus one, Crombie got word to move about six miles across what the captain
called the "roughest terrain [he?s] ever operated on." About three miles in,
enemy troops ambushed Crombie?s unit. The enemy showered down mortars and poured
in small arms fire from three sides. The soldiers returned fire and broke
contact. At that time, Lloyd called in a fast-mover, which hammered a ridgeline
about 800 meters away and silenced the greatest threat. It was one of 10 air-support
missions Lloyd called during the first two days.

"Lloyd has bragging rights over most infantrymen in the Army regarding how much
stuff was shot at him," Crombie said.

The injured Lloyd would later return to base carrying his own gear. As a TACP,
he carries a little baggage, too. A lot of good-natured fun takes place between
the soldiers and airmen.

"Lloyd would probably like us to go by first names, but he fits in well,"
Crombie said with a smile. "All the guys get on him about Air Force bases and
how nice they are, and he says, ?Hey, I?ve never seen one. I?ve been on Army
posts my whole life.? "

When the soldier-airman teams set out on missions these days, their duties
primarily revolve around clearing caves and bunkers and exploitation. ETACs are
carrying lighter rucks of about 70 pounds for the short-range patrols and
provide overwatch to support the troops.

That?s important because soldiers? hearts are racing as they approach a cave.
They typically use an AT-4 light anti-armor weapon or 40 mm grenade to "knock at
the door," as Hauser puts it. But the soldiers? focus is on the darkness that
lies before them, so they rely on TACPs to watch their backs.

Stronger than ever

In addition to being busier than ever, TACP has proven itself badder than ever
through Operation Anaconda.

The Defense Department is not yet ready to release overall bomb damage
assessments. Doing so might reveal a specific strength or weakness.

Hauser said he doesn?t have a good damage assessment because there usually are
not enough body parts to get a solid number of casualties.

Rozelsky, the 682nd?s commander, would say only that "overall, [bomb damage
assessment] has been very well." He attributes that directly to the TACPs and
their ability to keep pace with technology that has boomed in the past decade.

In Operation Desert Storm, for example, most ETACs had to carry three radios ?
one to talk to the air liaison officer, one to talk to the Army and one to talk
to the pilot. Now the PRC-117F, or "TAC SAT," takes care of them all.

And that?s just on the receiving end. Far more aircraft now carry wind-corrected
munitions and laser-guided bombs; they rely on GPS and laser range finders;
bombers are dropping Joint Direct Attack Munitions, and AC-130 gunships are
using live video feeds offered by Predator unmanned aerial vehicles.

Things have changed, to say the least. But the changes provide "the most
lethality air power has ever been able to bring to the fight," said Rozelsky, an
officer of 18 years.

TACPs also are learning new ways of conducting business. For example, the teams
are working in a two-man concept when calling for fire. Both airmen verify their
positions using GPS to ensure they are not giving their own grid coordinates.
Instead they give their location in reference to target.

They?ve learned to throw away maps, too. Not all maps, just the ones given to
them for this region. Turns out they were old Russian maps, which were off by up
to 500 or 600 yards. And in this environment, 600 yards can make all the
difference in the world.

Many air strikes will not come on a position that is "danger-close" unless the
situation calls for the most drastic measures. Danger-close for the AC-130?s 40
mm gun is only 125 meters. It?s 200 meters for the gunship?s 105 mm howitzer.
It?s 425 meters for an MK-82 500-pound laser-guided bomb. It?s 500 meters for
the 2,000-pound JDAM.

That 600-meter gap is just too close for comfort, Knippel said.

The ETACs tossed the maps with little fanfare. As Sullivan put it, "there?s
always a wrench that gets thrown in there. Sometimes we?re not used right,
sometimes the equipment we get doesn?t work. This time it?s bad maps. We?ve
learned to work around these things. You have to."

As the old saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Sullivan of the 3rd Special Forces Group acknowledged the statement with a
smile.

"I?ll tell you one thing that hasn?t changed, though ? the Army still loves us."

The TACPs said they sometimes wonder whether the Air Force loves them, too.

Fighter pilots with stripes

From the airman first class with two years of service to the master sergeant
with 21 years to the lieutenant colonel on his second tour in the TACP
community, there is one constant theme ? TACP is not properly funded or trained,
despite its worth in battle.

"In the past, the Air Force has not done a very good job of equipping our TACPs
with the equipment they need, because of money," the 3rd Special Forces Group?s
Sullivan said. "Now the money pockets have opened up, and we?re getting all this
equipment and the group is doing a great job of getting us this equipment now,
but the problem is, it?s not far enough out for us to train on it like we
should."

As a result, TACPs are going out with men who could be stronger, Sullivan said.

Bradford agreed and said he was "learning new equipment on the fly" when he
arrived here. Crombie, the Army company commander, said he met his TACP for the
first time after arriving here and said he "would liked to have more training
together." Taylor, the battalion fire support officer, agreed, saying integrated
training will be a priority when the battalion returns to Fort Drum, N.Y.

Locke, the air liaison officer, said such training was necessary before this
operation. The training his unit conducted prior to this deployment did not
include laser range finders, JDAMs or a lot of the laser-guided bomb techniques,
he said.

"We had to jump through a lot of hoops to accomplish what we have done in such a
short amount of time," Locke said. "I would have liked to have seen it happen
before coming here. Those last three days before you?re going out on an op is
not the time to be breaking out a new piece of gear to make the job work."

The F-16 pilot added that many squadrons currently participating in Operation
Enduring Freedom didn?t train in close air support prior to deploying,
mentioning specifically bombers and F-16s. Air Force Times reported March 4 that
one in four F-16 pilots also are on the verge of losing air-to-ground
qualifications due to a lack of practice.

So why are ETACs facing such a gap in funding and training? Locke thinks it?s
because they have no voice in the grand scheme of things.

"They?re living on an Army base for 20 years and are essentially forgotten," he
said. "This career field has got to get a career officer or these guys are going
to continue to have a rough run of it."

That would change if Rozelsky had his way.

"If I were chief for a day, I?d make sure these young men were properly
equipped," Rozelsky said. "Be they TACP, special tactics or combat controllers,
the Air Force has not funded them with the right equipment, yet they go out
there with their maps and their skills and have done a phenomenal job."

The squadron commander earnestly calls his controllers "fighter pilots with
stripes on their sleeves."

"These men are smart on weapons. As smart as our pilots are," Rozelsky said. "We
need to start treating them as such."

Locke put it this way: "Enlisted TACs are as much a combat asset as any F-16, F-15
or bomber pilot. Those pilots are manned and equipped at levels necessary to
perform ? these men need to be, too."

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Some another interesting infos:
http://www.codeonemagazine.com/archives/2002/articles/jul_02/354th/