Field Notes of a Hotel Warrior, Part III

This is the third in a series of posts about my experiences as NBC's "Man in Riyadh" during the Gulf War. As I noted in the first post, my assignments during the war took me to Baghdad, Amman, Damascus, Dharan, and Kuwait City, but I spent most of the war (about three months) in the Hyatt Hotel in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

Today's post deals with communications strategy, something I thought very little about when I was a journalist, but which I've thought about a lot in the second half of my working life...

Part III: Bovine Scatology

General Schwarzkopf is well remembered for the strategic and tactical brilliance he demonstrated as the military commander of Coalition forces during the Gulf War, but his skills as a communications strategist are not as widely known. I can tell you from first-hand experience: he was a first-class communicator.

I don’t remember the exact dates, but sometime before the commencement of ground operations against Iraqi forces in Kuwait there were a number of air and sea operations that made news. One of these was a firefight in a town called Khafji, just over the Iraqi border in Saudi Arabia. As I remember the sequence of events, Coalition troops who had taken up positions in the town were ambushed by Iraqi troops in a cross-border raid, but the Iraqi advances were then reversed when Coalition forces counter-attacked and re-took the town. It was the first real ground battle of the war, and the casualties included a number of US and Saudi soldiers. With the whole world watching developments in the Middle East, it was big news, and the US military command in Riyadh scheduled a press briefing with General Schwarzkopf for the following day.

At about the same time as the Battle of Khafji, a Coalition air assault on an Iraqi oil storage facility had succeeded in destroying a strategic target, but had also, inadvertently, created an oil spill that was fouling a several-square-mile patch of the Persian Gulf. An American newspaper had picked up the oil spill story and claimed that the US Navy had been asked to help manage the spill but had refused. Khafji would certainly be Topic A at the press briefing, but the oil spill story would probably also get a mention.

The night before the General’s press conference, I got a phone call in my hotel room from Schwarzkopf’s press attaché, Ron Wildermuth.

“The General would be very grateful if you would ask a specific question at tomorrow’s briefing,” Wildermuth said.

“Whoa, Ron…” I said, “You know I can’t ask a planted question…”

“I know, I know,” Wildermuth said, “But the General would really appreciate it if you would ask this question.”

I didn’t like the sound of this, but I also figured that it was important to stay in the General’s good graces. I suggested a compromise.

“Well, if I ask the General’s question, will I get a chance to ask a question of my own?”

“No way,” Wildermuth said. “Nobody gets a second question at a Schwarzkopf briefing.”

“Then I can’t do it,” I said.

About ten minutes later I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang again. It was Captain Wildermuth.

“OK,” he said. “You get your second question.”

I had to figure that he’d tried and failed to get some other stooge to do the General’s bidding, which made me feel even more like a sell-out for agreeing to this scheme. But, I told myself, at least I’d get to ask my own question as a follow-up.

“So what does the General want me to ask?”

“He’d like you to ask him whether the US Navy refused a request to help with the oil spill,” Wildermuth said.

“OK,” I said. “That’s a legitimate question. I’m sure somebody would have asked it anyway, but I’ll make sure the General gets a chance to put it on the record.”

At the press conference the next day, General Schwarzkopf put on his standard, impressive performance. He added new details to what had previously been reported about the Battle of Khafji, and he brought the press corps up to date on the air war.

“I’ve got time for a few questions,” he said, and pointed to me.

“General,” I said, “As you know, there have been media reports that the US Navy refused a request to assist with cleanup of an oil spill that took place recently in the Gulf. Would you care to comment?”

Schwarzkopf looked at me as if I were either incredibly stupid or possibly insane. Then he rocked back on his heels and said, “That’s the most ridiculous piece of bovine scatology I’ve ever heard in my life!” He’d found a PG way of saying “bullshit,” and he got a good laugh from the press and his fellow officers. He then went on to correct the record of events in the Gulf, and moved on to other questions.

I thought about our brief exchange afterwards and I realized that I’d been just a small piece in a neat little bit of military communications strategy. Schwarzkopf was angry about a report that criticized – and in his view, misrepresented – the actions of a naval vessel under his command, and he wanted to correct the record. He knew that most, maybe all of the questions he’d be asked at the briefing would be about Khafji – the big story of the day – but he wanted to make sure that he made his point about the Navy and the oil spill.

So he got his press attaché to find a stooge (me) to ask a question about the incident so he would be sure to get his answer on the record. But then he must have thought, “What if I answer the question but they don’t put my answer on the news?” At which point – and this was the “genius” part – he came up with a clever soundbite he knew we couldn’t resist.

The result? All three networks used the “bovine scatology” clip that night, and CNN played it on the hour for most of the day.

I’ve learned a lot about communications strategy in the second half of my working life, and I’ve often used this Schwarzkopf story as a “teachable moment” in media training seminars. I summarize it this way: the General had a communications goal (set the record straight on a piece of battlefield misinformation), and he devised a strategy (use the Khafji press conference as a platform to reach a wide audience), and specific tactics (find a stooge, develop a compelling message, etc.) to achieve his goal. And in this case, everything went to plan. In military terms: mission accomplished.

I could only admire the General’s skills, even if I ended up playing the stooge in his communications strategy. And oh yes, I did get my second question. All these years later, I can’t remember what it was. But I do remember that it never made the news.

Postscript:

General Schwarzkopf's press officer, Captain Ron Wildermuth, retired from the Navy shortly after the Gulf War after 23 years of distinguished service. I located him in Carson, California, where he's now the Manager of Public and Government Affairs for the West Basin Municipal Water District, and shared a draft of this post. "Boy does this bring back memories," he wrote. Mission accomplished, Ron.