The Changing of the Guard is an engaging, well-written, researched, and presented read. While I don't agree with everything in the book, it is thought-provoking and even-handed and I agree with its central thesis that after four and a half decades of the Cold War, the British military, its leadership, in particular, was complacent and inflexible. When our military deployed in the post 9/11 wars there were successes but there were also mistakes, failures, infighting, and in extreme cases rule-breaking. Throughout the organisation struggled to identify, adapt, and to overcome the new challenges. Despite this, hard lessons were learned, albeit slowly, and in general, the military came out the other end the better for it.
The book in particular highlights pre-9/11 British ‘hubris’ in being ‘the best little Army in the World’: a fair observation as this was the firm belief right through the cold war and probably before it. As a young Infantry soldier in the 1980s, I was always told that despite our limited numbers, terrible kit, and stifling class system we were without equal the toughest and most professional army. In fact, the resource and equipment limitations were seen as proof that the Americans had ‘all the gear but no idea’ while we relied on our pluck and initiative. Plus, we had centuries of tradition behind us as well as successful counter-insurgency campaigns in places like Malaya and Northern Ireland. The Americans probably even agreed with us, even if they did not like it. I remember an urban legend about US forces in Germany, or it might have been US Marines going ashore in Hong Kong, being issued with cards warning them of the dangers of drinking, fighting, or gambling with British soldiers: all of which they would lose at, they were told.
Then came 9/11 and British participation in Iraq and Afghanistan and the subsequent nation-building in both places, for which they were neither prepared nor equipped. Stretched too thin, ‘heart and minds’ went out of the window (considered the winning strategy in the Malayan emergency) in order to concentrate on war-fighting—there are a couple of interesting chapters here on the awards system and its potential to encourage bad behaviour, the impact of the slew of memoirs and YouTube trophy videos that came out of the two campaigns and the related enigma that is ‘ally’ (looking the part and doing cool stuff).
In the end, the military was let down at both a political and a strategic level—and by decisions the Americans’ made, especially in Iraq. The application of a ‘Hearts and Minds’ strategy was considered the winning element of the Malayan Emergency campaign and this wasn’t in my opinion possible. I would argue that it was actually the ‘hearts and minds’ strategy coupled with significant force protection that won the day—one without the other cannot work. The number of Commonwealth troops deployed to head of population during the in Malayan Emergency was roughly 1:150, with a similar number of police plus a huge home guard force (1:25). In Iraq (Basra and Maysan) that number was around 1:300 and in Afghanistan (Helmand) about 1:150—but neither Iraq nor Afghanistan had existing military or police forces that were trained or trustworthy enough to be considered an asset (in those early days). Ultimately, the British military had neither the troops for nation-building or for force protection and the situations in both theatres quickly spiralled out of control: ‘quantity has a quality all of its own.'
In all fairness though, the Americans fared little better overall in Iraq and Afghanistan, despite their massive resources. Although embarrassingly, they ended up having to bail us out in both Basra and Helmand—and in the process, no doubt got their revenge for all those years of being told they were inferior.
Criticism regarding excessive use of violence is mixed. Troops are cited as having been too aggressive, The PWRR in Maysan in 2004 and 3 Para in Helmand in 2006 for example. But troops are also cited as not being aggressive enough in Basra city in 2006 before the ‘accommodation’: highlighted by the fact that most of the award citations during this period were for saving comrades rather than taking the fight to the enemy. Likewise, in Helmand in 2011 the main military effort became casualty reduction and enemy suppression rather than assault. Much of this was, I suspect, tactically reactive and relates back to my earlier argument about having insufficient resources for force protection given the circumstances—also the end of the Iraq campaign was in sight by this time.
I’m often reminded that it’s human nature to criticise subsequent generations as not being as tough or as good as those that went before. The old sweats when I joined up berated us and we berated those that followed us. By the time I left the Army, it was that period between the cold war and 9/11: the end of history. 9/11 changed all that and although I would spend over a decade in Iraq and Afghanistan, that was as a contractor, not as a serving soldier, they belonged to a younger generation. And from where I was standing, observing, I was proud of the professionalism, bravery, toughness, and flexibility of those boys and girls. But those conflicts are over now and the next generations are having to adapt to a new military once again: and the cycle goes on.
I firmly stand by the conviction that pound for pound the British soldier is still the best, and the British Army is still ‘the best little (emphasis) army in the world’. That said, the US military also impressed me no end: the best enormous army in the world. Respect.