I Cogitate

Bateman on Hanson: An Altercation Altercation
October 22, 2007
By LTC Bob Bateman

Most Altercators know me as a soldier, and this is as it should be. But our gracious host and I share at least one thing in common: We are both academic historians.

Eric, of course, is a full-time professor, while I am only adjunct. But our foundations are the same. As historians we share certain professional values. For example, as historians we privilege the written word. In our historical writing, we both seek to create a thesis for the reader which accurately represents a synthesis of facts and ideas that come from sometimes quite disparate sources. And finally, in developing that thesis, we are bound by the facts. This is as it should be; we are historians. But one might further contend that Eric and I both have a problem with people who distort the historical record. In short, we hate liars.

Eric's book When Presidents Lie is explicit on that point, describing as it does the problems which arise for the entire nation when our chief executives lie. My own book on the events at No Gun Ri in 1950 devotes fully half of the text to understanding how lies worked their way into the historical record and people's understanding of what took place near that small South Korean village more than 50 years ago. The bottom line for both of us is a strong sentiment against people putting falsehoods into the record.

In both of those situations, the lies were direct. They were fabrications constructed by actors on the historical stage, and they were exposed through straightforward historical spadework. Far more insidious is the lie built by another historian in order to support an agenda that has little or nothing to do with history. Against that type of lie there has traditionally been little defense. Those who know better (academic historians in this case) often cannot match the volume of the polemicist who cloaks himself in the garb of legitimate-seeming history. It is a sad fact that "popular" usually trumps "academic" in the bookstore, so the falsehoods put together by the fabulist often drown out his academic critics. The general public, for its part, is often taken in by the fact that the fabulist appears learned and, therefore, should be trusted.

So what is an honest historian to do? Writing a competing academic book usually does not work, since such works are usually only read by peers within academe. Blasting the offending book in the reviews sections of academic journals is similarly ineffective. An op-ed in a major newspaper is not viable, because there just is not enough space to engage in more than rhetoric. All of which usually meant that those with popular lies to tell won out most of the time. Enter the Internet.

Our host has been kind enough to provide me a bully pulpit for the next several weeks as I take down one of the most profound perverts of the historical record in the modern era, Mr. Victor David Hanson...

"...Hanson's dismissals of those who would correct the record he distorted are based upon two biases: "Campus liberals" would engage in culture wars, and "non-military historians" don't know about military history and are thus unqualified to speak on the topic at hand. Well, Victor, I am afraid that I'm not going to be so easy to dismiss. Although I teach at Georgetown now, I used to teach at West Point, and the topic I taught is the same that I have studied for 18 years, military history. It is one thing for you to brush off an inhabitant of, say, the history departments at Yale or the University of Wisconsin as knowing nothing of the military or military history. It is quite another to attempt the same with an Army Airborne Ranger who also happens to be an academic historian and who thinks that your personal signal work is a pile of poorly constructed, deliberately misleading, intellectually dishonest feces."

Preserve my room but do not shed a tear ...
August 16, 2007
Hello Altercators, Lieutenant Colonel Bob Bateman here for the next two days.

I have a commission.

This, as readers of Altercation may have discerned over the years, means a lot to me. A little more than 18 years ago, I took an oath. Only after I had sworn to that oath, did I receive my commission. I have taken the same oath upon each promotion. This is the text of my oath.

"I, Robert Lake Bateman, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God."

Words are important. The specific words used in the oath we require of commissioned officers are very important. They state precisely what an officer must do, to wit, "support and defend the Constitution of the United States ..." I have mentioned this before. It is not an affectation. This is at the core of what it means to be an officer. But, of course, you cannot very well accomplish the elements of your oath if you do not understand the Constitution to which you are committing yourself.

Oliver North once took the same oath. Commissioned into the Marine Corps after graduating from Annapolis, North raised his right hand and said the same words. Apparently, however, he either did not mean it, or was too stupid to understand the words and the meaning of the Constitution itself.

September 6, 2007
Lt. Col. Bateman writes:

I cannot second Eric's recommendation for HBO's Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq loudly enough. It is all that he says it is. For my own part (and to illustrate that this is a small Army), I would note that the segments containing 1LT Dawn Halfaker are worth watching regardless of how you feel about the military. She defines intelligence, human grace, and determination in ways that leap off the screen. I assure you, the real person is all that and more. I am honored just to note that Once Upon a Time, I was her professor. (Dawn attended West Point when I was teaching there.)

On General Petraeus' upcoming commentary before Congress: I think I need to write something a little longer to explain this, but everyone should know that my culture (in the Army, and this only applies to the Army) cannot say "no." We just can't. We are inculcated from our first days under arms to accept all missions. We never accept that we have been beaten, or even that we (taken as a whole I mean) even can be beaten. This starts when you are a cadet. Sometimes you will be assigned more material than it is possible to read, and more work than you can accomplish. This is done intentionally. It teaches us about making priorities, accepting risk, and making decisions up front. But it also, unintentionally, conditions us to accept loads that are too much. The process continues, again unintentionally, as you move through your career. You never tell your boss, "No sir, I cannot do that." You may tell him that you need additional resources (time, men, or material), but you always accept the burden. Always. It is the Army way. After a lifetime ... well ... you get the picture. You can be both a "Captain Trash" and do this as well, but it is a fine, fine line. Razor thin, one might say.

August 16, 2007
Hello, Altercators, Lt. Col. Bob Bateman here again today.

Schofield Barracks, June, 1991: The main buildings on this infantry-dominated post are called "Quads." Massive, squat structures, built by the Work Projects Administration during the Depression, each is large enough to house an entire brigade of men, three full battalions. Beyond that, they also have enough room left over to fit the offices for the company and battalion headquarters of each unit.

That summer I was a newly minted First Lieutenant, promoted up and away from my beloved rifle platoon and onto the battalion staff. My battalion of "Light" (meaning we carried all that we would take to war, on our backs, but required fewer airplanes and ships to get us there) Infantry was about to deploy to the Egyptian-Israeli border as part of the peacekeeping force that had been on site since the Camp David accords. It was a static mission, but tensions remained high in the region in the wake of Desert Storm.

Our role was to "Observe, Report, and Verify" any violations of the accords. The system worked because peace was already in place. Still, the mission required significant retraining from our normal role as assault troops. That training occupied much of the preceding six months, though as is always the case, as the deadline of our deployment approached, there always seemed to be more and more that had to be done. On this afternoon the assembled company commanders (captains), the battalion commander (a lieutenant colonel), and the battalion staff (captains and majors, mostly) were meeting for the weekly "Battalion Training Meeting." These meetings are recurrent rituals played out at every Army post around the world. Here, every week, we laid out the plan for the next week, month, and quarter, so that the actions of 750 men might be coordinated. There is no time to be wasted in these meetings.

Captain Dave T, known among his peers by his nickname "Trash," commanded one of our companies. He was one of the best leaders I have ever known. Direct, intelligent, approachable for even the most junior private, and honest -- Trash did not suffer fools gladly, and we junior officers and men who followed him loved him for it. On this afternoon he sat midway down the length of the conference table. Slouching almost to the point where his eyes were level with the table, as was his norm, Trash soaked it all in. Boredom visibly poured from his soul. The meeting, normally planned for an hour, was approaching its third. Yet still the battalion commander continued.

 RSS feed