In the past year or so I have been seeking out books written from a political perspective that is different from my own, but that may nonetheless contain an element of interest that can capture my attention long enough to actually finish reading them. Rouge Warrior is an example of such a book, for while there is almost no explicit discussion of politics or political themes, there is a fairly strong undercurrent of attitudes and perhaps even worldview that tracked somewhat closely to the Republican party in the 90s. In general, these days, military topics are widely frowned upon by my fellow left-leaning readers, so I almost feel that the act of reading books on such topics courts opprobrium, and as a result, they have become a type of guilty pleasure.
I was able to finish Rogue Warrior, which in itself is largely because it is not terribly written. It is a kind of military autobiography reminiscent of About Face, a very substantial (and thoughtful) memoir that I read in the latter half of 2018, however Rogue Warrior has neither the clear objective feel or searching quality of About Face, nor the sometimes subtle aspect that indicates long reflection on past lived events. The story of Rogue Warrior concerns Richard Marcinko, an abrasive, brash, highly confident Frogman made SEAL who founded the well-known SEAL team 6. It is difficult to determine how much of the narrative voice is due to the co-author John Weisman, but the first person narrator comes off as intelligent and perceptive. The narrator, ostensibly Richard Marcinko himself, describes himself as having had a reputation as "a renegade, a maverick, a loner" (p. 123), and over the course of the tale of his entire Naval career it becomes quite obvious why this is the case. Marcinko appears to have had to have great moral flexibility, which may in part be related to his eventual imprisonment, despite his characterization of having been targeted unfairly by certain Naval superiors who objected to his methods and approach.
Like all of us, Marcinko appears to have a personality composed of both laudable and deplorable traits, for while he seems totally and irrevocably committed to his various commands and the men in them, he frequently comes off as a very big and extremely dangerous frat boy, whose idea of a good time is to go to a bar, drink a keg full of beer, get in a fight, and bring home a random woman home with him. Surely this fits a stereotypical view of a testosterone fueled warrior, but I found myself becoming bored by the one-dimensional and superficial attitudes that he seemed to have not moved beyond even by the time of the writing of Rogue Warrior itself.
I couldn't help but compare Rogue Warrior to About Face, an autobiographical account of David Hackworth, an Army soldier who fought in Korea and Vietnam, who in many ways seemed similar in attitude to Marcinko, and yet who displayed true human growth throughout the course of his story. Unlike Hackworth, who actually seemed to have very similar attitudes about the operational deficiencies of conventional military doctrine, bureaucracy, and organization, Marcinko seems much less open to the possibility that he could ever be wrong. Both Hackworth and Marcinko made enemies with their more administratively minded superiors, but while Hackworth appeared able to take a philosophical view in which he made decisions that he knew had consequences he was willing to face, Marcinko seems to have been unable to see beyond his own point of view, and appears to have viewed the censure he eventually received as having been more the result of others scheming against him than the result of his own actions. In short, Marcinko does not seem to take his own responsibility anywhere near as seriously as Hackworth does. They are both bitter at having been wronged by a military organization that at times seems more concerned about paperwork, rules, and top-down bureaucratic policy than about becoming an effective fighting force that can meet the demands of a changing threat environment. They both genuinely appear to have had innovative and ultimately effective approaches to solving military problems that were sometimes criticized by commanders who thought more in terms of wars and battles fought 50 years earlier than in terms required by new and fluid conflict environments.
For me, the most interesting aspect of Rogue Warrior was the very brief glimpse into the modes of operation of counter-insurgent and counter-terror training. During his time in Vietnam, Marcinko learned lessons by observing and imitating his enemy; he appeared to have found a method of effectively combating him using relatively small groups of operators. Rather than using force on force, or charging the strong-points of enemy positions, Marcinko learned the old lesson to do what your enemy does not expect you to do, to find a path he does not expect you to take, and to strike his weakest point using your strongest methods of attack. This approach comes directly out of even a cursory reading of Sun Tzu, but oddly appears to not have always been learned by many military organizations, or at least by the higher levels of commanders within them. But then again, perhaps that only seems to be the case judging from the point of view of Marcinko. In any case, the lessons Marcinko learned during two tours in Vietnam were applied to seemingly great effect while he commanded SEAL team two, and when he founded SEAL team 6 and Red Cell. While his attitudes toward casualties can appear heartless at times, I often felt I could understand his point of view that when one is engaged in combat, one side against the other, one should be prepared to do everything and anything it takes to defeat the enemy and win - to ensure the men of the other side die rather than the men (and occasionally, women) of one's own side. Surely this kind of attitude enters moral grey areas, but it strikes me as a practical and professional mindset for a soldier.
In the end, Rogue Warrior is recommended to those who want to peek into the story of the man who founded the well-known SEAL team 6, or to those who have a particular predilection for military memoirs, but it is perhaps not of great interest to others. It is a competently written narrative account, but it does not surprise one with creativity or deep insight. It is a tale of an effective soldier with very rough edges. In my opinion, the substantial tome that is David Hackworth's About Face is a much better military memoir for many reasons, the first of which being the more authentic feel and the greater contemplative focus. David Hackworth feels more like a human with both clear flaws and obvious merits than the sometimes caricature-like portrayal of Marcinko. I would have enjoyed a conversation with Hackworth, and while I may not have always agreed with him on all points, I think I could have learned interesting lessons from him. I'm not so sure the same would be true of Marcinko. Marcinko seems fearsome in Rogue Warrior, but beyond his views on military topics I'm not sure I was able to perceive a man who is anything other than a beer drinking, party and fighting machine.