A comment on the Australian SAS

[Memnoch]

Cold steel

Even with the best equipment and training, writes Adrian D'Hage, success or failure for the SAS could come down to a simple matter of the elements.

It could go something like this ...

For three days a blizzard howled around the secret coalition staging base near a remote part of the border with Pakistan and Afghanistan. Whiteout in the mountains. For three days the winds had been well above the 45-knot limit for a rotor start on the Blackhawks and the liquid water content of the air had been measured at 1.1g/m3 - above which de-icing kits struggle to be effective. Even in good weather, the aircraft were operating not far below their ceiling of 3,000 metres and the pilots had their hands full. But even the best could not operate in this. For three days the sophisticated technology of the West had been grounded by the weather. It was not the first time a Western invasion force had been halted in the Hindu Kush. It was like fighting on the moon. Outside the small briefing tent, the wind-chill factor had plunged the temperature to -50C. Exposed flesh would freeze within minutes.

But the weather was lifting and inside the tent the camouflaged faces of the Australian SAS soldiers were devoid of emotion. Each had checked and rechecked nearly 45kg of the most advanced combat gear in the world, including global positioning navigation systems that would give a precise reading of their position to within a metre or two. Laptops linked to satellites. Burst transmission communications equipment. Night vision goggles. Sniper rifles with laser scopes, precisely zeroed and calibrated over countless hours of practice. Even the humble water bottle was specially insulated to prevent the contents turning to ice. As the snow flurries abated, the US Green Beret intelligence officer briefed the Australians from top secret reports compiled half a world away in Florida and London. The photographs of the al-Qaeda training camp taken by an RQ-1 Predator unmanned drone and relayed via satellite were crystal clear.

"Your mission is to establish observation posts in the foothills around the al-Qaeda camp. Just before sunset, and weather permitting, you will be flown into a forward LZ here, from which you will patrol to your assigned positions. Snow depth is up to four metres and the temperature is currently -15C. You are to establish your snow hides by daybreak from which you will report by callsign starting at 0600 and 1800 hours. Any movement or other activity is to be reported immediately and if a positive sighting of bin Laden is made, you are authorised to kill him. You will be in position for 10 days. Are there any questions?

If it was a movie script, the next line might run, "Are there any !##@@!!**! questions!"

But the war in Afghanistan is not a movie.

So how well prepared are the Australian Defence Force and our elite soldiers to cope with the hazardous type of situation that I have outlined above.

There is a strange paradox in the decision to commit the Special Air Service Regiment and others to a war in Afghanistan. Not one to consider leaping out of perfectly good aeroplanes myself, I have been privileged to witness the training of these elite soldiers. Their dedication is palpable and they are better prepared for this war than we might think. But as has often been the case throughout Australia's relatively short but distinguished military history, it is perhaps the past initiatives of the soldiers rather than the defence bureaucracy that has enabled them to be as well prepared as they are. Until now, neither Afghanistan nor cold-climate operations have featured prominently, if at all, in the various defence white papers. And whereas the United States and Britain have long recognised the value of mountaineering and other adventure training, support for this type of military activity in Australia has been sporadic. Indeed, there has been strong opposition, as just one letter to the Army newspaper illustrates: "So ... mountaineering is the closest thing to combat operations. Why doesn't the Army Alpine Association cut the hype and admit that these expeditions are just another case of the Australian taxpayer footing the bill for someone's personal adventure?" (Army, April 2000.)

The remarks that had raised the ire of a defence public servant came from WO2 Ian Rasmussen. In his view, mountaineering, because of the dangers, was the closest thing he had seen to combat. And he might just know. He is a three-tour veteran of Vietnam and was a member of the SASR climbing and freefall troop.

Fortunately for Australia, any opposition to special training has not had any lasting impact. Respect for the bureaucracy has never been the strong suit of those selected for SASR. To illustrate, in 1976, when I was Staff Officer Grade Two (Operations) on Headquarters Field Force Command (the longer the title the less important the position), I received a call from a highly agitated chief of staff. It seemed that for some time, and without success, SASR had been requisitioning for desert patrol vehicles to trial. The bureaucracy had demanded more justification: "We certainly need a committee to examine this, including an environmental impact statement." Undaunted, an enterprising SASR officer visited Mercedes-Benz headquarters in WA. "We need to trial several of your vehicles," he said. "And if the trial is successful, I have it on good authority [his own] that it will be a multimillion-dollar contract." He got the vehicles while a surprised chief of logistics in Canberra got a call from the chief executive of Mercedes-Benz in Germany. "We want you to know, General, all of us here in Stuttgart are delighted with your decision to conduct this trial and I'm just ringing to let you know that I plan to send a team of our top engineers out to Australia next week." The content of the chief of staff's call to me cannot be printed.

To be fair, in more recent times, staff officers in the Special Forces world have recognised the need for rigorous examination of their proposals, and many in defence headquarters in Canberra have accepted the need for their highly sophisticated and expensive equipment. But in the battle for the dollar and scarce exchange positions overseas, it has been their professional determination that sees them better prepared for this war.

A small number of Special Forces and other personnel have attended mountain and cold weather training courses run in the Snowy Mountains by 2 Commando Company and the reasonably resourced Army Adventure Training School. Tactical movement in the snow, load carrying, nutrition, first aid, survival, construction of snow caves and even skiing have been part of the courses. As well, a smaller number still have managed to attend mountain warfare training in the US, Britain and Norway.


We can dismiss reports of SASR scavenging in disposal stores. They will have the best equipment and the best medical training available in the West. It is as well they do. They will be fighting Osama bin Laden on a ground of his choosing, not theirs. In my view, that is never a wise military course of action. But that decision has been made in Washington. In Australia, there will be varying views on this war, but whatever happens, Australians must never direct any protest against their troops. As is often the case, they have had absolutely no say in their tasking. At the end of the day, the next phase of this war will depend not only on equipment, but even more on the individual. Leaping out of perfectly good aeroplanes, and the bureaucracy aside, they are among the finest in the world.

Brigadier D'Hage was awarded the Military Cross for service in Vietnam. He has since retired from the Defence Force and is writing a novel.



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[Djinn Raffo]

That is an intense post.
Are there any questions?

[This message has been edited by Djinn Raffo (edited 10-27-2001).]