Corps Values

Moore's role as a colonel is probably the most closely analogous in the marines to that of a CEO. Marine generals are in some ways more like members of a company's board of directors, focusing on broader, long-term issues and leaving day-to-day management to the line executives. Moore's authority in the MEU is absolute. "I own everyone in this MEU," he says matter-of-factly. And yet he seems more comfortable with his charges than most CEOs do with their employees. An observer unaware of Moore's rank might easily mistake him for an unusually forceful and charismatic enlisted man as he strides through the Tarawa's maze of narrow steel corridors, bellowing encouragement and mild jibes to almost everyone he encounters. He wears the same standard-issue camouflage field outfit as everyone else. No one salutes him. (Though by tradition, the marines would salute him when they're off the ship.)

Moore's first order of business in the planning session is to ask why there are so many damned people in the room. Unlike most organizations, the marines tend to inversely correlate the number of people on a task with the likelihood of the task's successful completion. What's more, every single body beyond the absolute minimum number required means that some other job isn't getting done as quickly as it could--a key consideration when your organization is trying to accomplish more in two days than most companies would in two months. This evening the overpopulation problem is solved when Moore discovers that a marine escort and I are sitting in as observers. As another officer presents the known details of the mission, a marine types the main points into a laptop computer running Microsoft PowerPoint presentation software, and that information is projected onto a screen at the front of the room and to a similar room in each of the two other ships in the MEU, where other officers are participating via videoconference in the meeting.

Whatever mission the marines put together in response to the order to provide humanitarian aid, they have three hours to decide on and plan it and three hours to prepare for it. If they're lucky, they'll get a few hours of sleep before they have to execute it. There is little wasted time. The mission order is thrown up on the screen, and then the group works to state the order's "essence"--that is, to put it in the clearest, most succinct and relevant terms possible. In this case, the group decides that the mission is to provide food and medical aid to a starving and sick population. The group quickly determines the mission team's potential strength (knowledge of the terrain), potential weakness (susceptibility to disease), assumptions being factored into the decisions (they do not face nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons), things they must not do (damage property, which would lead to loss of popular support), the principle information requirements, high-value targets, and so on through a checklist of easily overlooked considerations. For example, when trying to decide how to feed the population, the group at first quickly gravitates to the obvious solution: distribute the large store of their own field rations, known as meals ready to eat, or MREs. But a consideration of medical issues brings up the point that the somewhat-rich MREs could easily overwhelm the digestive system of a person suffering from severe malnutrition, and a consideration of the population's unique characteristics leads to the concern that the MREs may be incompatible with ethnic and religious dietary restrictions.

Next the group determines those aspects of the mission that require clarification from headquarters. For example, is the mission supposed to provide a range of medical treatment or just enough to keep the sickest people alive? Will more food be shipped to the group? Are the rains that produced the flooding likely to continue? There are a number of such key questions. But the group isn't going to wait for the answers, because they could be a long time in coming, and the team needs to start drawing up detailed mission plans in an hour. If and when the answers eventually come in, the marines will adjust their mission on the fly.

The End State
Making decisions in the face of incomplete information is especially discomfiting when you know a mistake can cost lives. But marines get used to it, says Moore. "Everyone is always looking for the perfect truth, but you never have it," he says. "Even if you did have it, the other guy is up to something, so by the time you execute it, your truth isn't perfect anymore." Marines speak of the "70%" solution, by which they mean an imperfect decision whose saving grace is that it can be made right now. In an environment where the opposition can regroup and take the advantage in a heartbeat, indecisiveness is considered a fatal flaw--worse than making a mediocre decision, because a mediocre decision, especially if swiftly rendered and executed, at least stands a chance.

The group, now close to the end of the process, determines a mission "end state"--a reasonable and measurably achievable goal that reflects the team's capabilities and understanding of the obstacles. The end state the group agrees on is to get MREs into the hands of as many starving people as possible and to provide at least minimal medical aid to the sickest members of the population. True, the MREs are a far-less-than-ideal food, and the medical aid will be inadequate--but it's better than nothing, and there's the hope that better resources will become available soon.

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