IT S TIME TO CHANGE THE GUARD

I bled at Bunker Hill and froze at Valley Forge. I rode with Washington across the icy Delaware. I am defender of our nation. Now and forever, I am the Guard.

--Ballad of the National Guard

THIS glowing view of the militia in wartime was hardly that of General Washington himself. While the Revolution was still raging, he angrily told the Continental Congress that if the colonies had "formed a permanent army in the beginning, which, by the continuance of the same men in service, had been capable of discipline, we never should have had to retreat with a handful of men across the Delaware in 1776, trembling for the fate of America." Throughout history, in victory or defeat, the citizen-soldier has suffered the curses of his generals. The criticism has not always been fair. True, units of militiamen failed on the field of battle time after time in the War of 1812; and in the Civil War, the militia often simply walked away, ignoring the orders of their officers. But there has been heroism as well. In both World War II and the Korean conflict, divisions of the National Guard--the latter-day militia--performed admirably. Peacetime Guardsmen have served loyally to restore order after countless hurricanes, floods, riots and other internal disturbances.

Nevertheless, the record has been sufficiently mixed to keep the Guard the subject of frequent investigation and debate. The latest wave of controversy was touched off by the conduct of Guardsmen in last summer's ghetto nightmares in Newark and Detroit, where their inexperience, ineptitude and lack of equipment served to reinforce the popular image of the "weekend warrior." That image is one of telephone repairmen, drugstore clerks and insurance executives spending Tuesday nights in rumpled khakis clumsily trying to keep in step with the "hup, two, three, four" of a part-time sergeant, an image of portly privates eating cold beans around a campfire for two weeks each summer.

Leaders of the Guard's Washington-based lobby, the National Guard Association, are quick to deny both the accuracy and relevancy of this image; they recently spent $50,000 on a series of full-page newspaper ads to hail their own importance in time of "flood, fire, war, or riot." The Guard is surely important in numbers: there are 418,500 members of the Army National Guard and 82,700 Air National Guardsmen. By act of Congress, they make up the primary reserve of the U.S. Army and Air Force. Each year, the U.S. Government puts up roughly $1 billion, about 90% of the Army and Air Guard's total support; combined, the two have control of some $3.5 billion worth of federal equipment in 2,600 towns and cities.

The critical question at the heart of the controversy is whether the U.S. is getting full value and adequate protection from the material and human resources it is pouring into the Guard.

In the Air & on the Field

The Air Guard has the better opportunity to show its stuff. As a full partner in the U.S. air-defense network, its men operate 43% of the Nike-Hercules missile sites around key cities and maintain 52% of the fighter-interceptor forces that are always on round-the-clock runway alert. For most of these Guardsmen, the basic motivation is clear: they like flying. Many of them are former Air Force men, and quite a few are past or present airline pilots. It would do them an injustice, though, to say that the fun of flying is their only motivation. They can and do at times play an important role in U.S. defense. For one example, Air Guardsmen have been flying some official U.S. passenger and airfreight traffic to Southeast Asia.

For the Army Guardsmen, things are a good deal less glamorous. The most important part of their training is the initial four to six months of duty in an actual Army camp; there they endure the same discipline, walk the same hikes, do the same K.P., learn the same weaponry as new recruits in any regular Army outfit. After that they return to their homes and jobs and begin the dreary ritual--to continue for 51 years-- that has earned them the weekend-warrior label. One night a week or one weekend a month, Guardsmen show up at headquarters for "drill," which can mean listening to a lecture on gas-mask discipline, practicing bayonet jabs at a straw-filled dummy, assembling weapons, or rehearsing proper posture for parade rest. How much a man learns in the drills depends on the quality of his officers. In some gung-ho units, there is tough, no-nonsense adherence to U.S. Army manuals; in others, the time is often wasted on jovial horseplay. Apart from the drill, there is an annual 15-day session in the field, which can be rigorous: units are sometimes flown to Alaska to take their yearly fortnights in the Army's Cold Weather School.

Why They Join

Why do men join the Guard? For most younger men, it is what one officer calls "minimum career interference."

What that means, baldly stated, is a device to beat the draft. "This way," explains one, "it's six years of a weekly pain in the neck; the other way, it is two years or more out of my life and out of my first job." Since the Viet Nam troop buildup began two years ago, it has become virtually impossible to get into any Guard unit without months of waiting. "It takes real pull these days," says a Kentuckian. "Fortunately, my father knew a Guard general who found a way to squeeze me into his unit when my draft board classified me 1A."

There are others for whom the Guard represents prestige, a larger place in the community: a mail-room clerk by day can be a colonel by night. Others had a taste of the military during World War II or Korea and liked the life. And there is the chance for an evening away from the family and with the boys. Often, especially in rural areas, Guard headquarters is the social center, where townsmen gather for civic banquets and Saturday-night dances. In the South, the Guard is especially strong. Alabama has some 130 armories, 1,000 full-time employees and a budget of $20 million a year.

In major cities there is also a social flavor: the Richmond Blues have for generations nurtured the First Families of Virginia. New York City's old Squadron A, now disbanded, was once known for its fine afternoon polo. The spiffiest of all, New York's 7th Regiment (now the 107th Battalion) Armory, at 67th Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan, still hosts a fine antique show each year. The site was donated by the city, and the Vanderbilts and the Astors helped finance the building. The 7th--known as the "Silk Stockings"--cracked heads aplenty and killed a few dozen rioting immigrants from time to time in the violence of the 19th century. Today, its once-a-week drills are a mixture of fun and discipline; the men spend a lot of time polishing the silver cups that line the armory's mantelpieces and trophy cases.

The 7th, like the Richmond Blues and hundreds of lesser National Guard units around the country, is a proud member of its community, and a unit's community takes pride in its presence. In fact, no American institution is more deeply embedded in the tradition of the land. From the earliest days, military policy has been based on the old Anglo-Saxon distrust of standing armies as a menace to freedom; for all his acid complaints about the quality of his own militiamen, Washington himself firmly supported the idea of well-trained citizen-soldiers. In their wisdom, the founding fathers wrote the idea into the Constitution: Congress shall "provide for calling forth the Militia" and for "organizing, arming, and disciplining the Militia, and for governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United States." Further, the Constitution reserves to the states "the Appointments of the Officers, and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress."

Partly Federal, Mostly State

Thus, the real commanders of National Guard units are not the Pentagon generals but the state Governors, who are free to hand out Guard officerships to friends or political allies through the state adjutants general, who themselves are usually appointees of the Governors. The opportunity for patronage is obvious. In some states, the Governor also makes use of Guard aircraft to take him and his aides around on state business. In Wisconsin, Governor Warren P. Knowles keeps himself in the public eye by having Guard Jeeps cruise the highways bearing inscriptions that read "Governor's Highway Safety Patrol." Back in the '50s, when G. Mennen Williams was Governor of Michigan, the Guard came out for traffic duty each Fourth of July.

None of these things are improper, but the dualism of the state and federal roles raises broad questions as to the best, most efficient use of troops paid by federal funds to be an important part of the U.S. defense establishment. It is a serious problem for U.S. generals who must prepare for 20th century wars with an 18th century minuteman heritage around their necks. Every Congressman and Senator on Capitol Hill hears--and fears--the cannon fire from the armory back home, when he opens his mouth on the subject of the National Guard. The whistle of those cannon balls is all too audible across the Potomac in the Pentagon. Technically, the Defense Department can disapprove a Governor's appointment of a Guard officer by refusing to recognize the nominee. In practice, the Pentagon generally shrugs and looks the other way, in the process accepting in some Guard units one more colonel or major who is a good deal better at selling stocks and bonds or running his dry-goods store than he is at commanding troops.

The National Guard asserts, indeed proudly insists, that its primary function is fulfillment of its federal role; and it is this role for which the $1 billion in federal funds flows to it each year. Yet its commanders have no direct responsibility for national security and are not answerable to the national Government. If Washington officials propose to train the Guard of one state in another state, the Governor of either state can veto the idea. Any Governor, at any time, can abrogate or alter any arrangement made with the Guard of his state.

When the situation is viewed in this light, it is perhaps not surprising that for the Viet Nam war, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara chose to draft raw civilians and train them for use with regular Army divisions rather than call up the Guard. No doubt, the political problems involved with the Guard were one big factor. Also to be considered was the training level that the National Guard had achieved. Of the total 418,500 Army Guardsmen, only 118,900 are in really crack units ready for quick use abroad. They are the men of the Selected Reserve Force, which is kept at 100% of strength in manpower and is equipped with all the gear it needs for combat. Many of the rest of the Army Guard units are manned at only 50% of scheduled strength, have to make do with World War II artillery, tanks, flamethrowers, and rifles.

A cannon is hardly the weapon to use against an antiwar demonstrator; a flamethrower is not the way to fend off ghetto rioters. Since the training emphasis for Army Guardsmen has been on weapons of war--for the federal role--it is no surprise that they were ill-prepared to cope with the summer's disturbances in America's city streets. The Guard in Newark and Detroit was confronted with organized arson, mass looting and, most terrifying of all, snipers firing at Guardsmen from darkened windows. In both cities, the Guard lacked a clear-cut chain of command, suffered from the hesitation of political commanders, was committed to piecemeal units. The New Jersey Guard lacked radio equipment to keep in contact with the state police, and both Newark and Detroit Guardsmen lacked bulletproof vests and proper riot helmets. It should be said that the record is not all negative: in Milwaukee, a curfew and quick action by Guardsmen, who flooded the streets at the first sign of serious trouble, nipped a riot in the bud.

What was nationally obvious was that the Guard needs better training. The quick directive that flashed out from Washington on the heels of the rioting should provide a good start. All over the nation, Army Guardsmen have been working hard to complete the crash 32-hour riot-training program ordered by the Pentagon. Some of the highlights: crowd control, building roadblocks, locating and isolating snipers. Above all, the new course teaches Guardsmen to avoid mass gunfire.

Training alone is, of course, not a sufficient answer. The 46th Guard Division used in Detroit was woefully unprepared for any kind of combat, riot or otherwise, since two of its brigades were among those Guard units in the lowest category of priorities. Its manpower was at the 50% level, and it had no access to needed federal equipment. It is precisely this kind of unit that Defense Secretary McNamara has been trying for years to get rid of. But getting rid of units means getting rid of juicy officer posts in the state. Local politicians and Congressmen are shocked at the thought.

President Dwight Eisenhower tried time and again to reduce and modernize the National Guard and at the same time slash the size of that other nonactive force, the Organized Reserve, which stands separate from the Guard and currently numbers 260,000. Congress balked each time, and until recently Secretary McNamara has had not much more luck with his own reserve reorganization schemes. At last, however, a program seems to be near acceptance. It would trim the Guard in relatively minor terms: from 418,500 men to 400,000. It would be aimed at using those men in fewer, more efficient, more powerful units. To do this, the reorganization proposal would effectively change the shape of the Guard, eliminating 15 of the existing 23 divisions, restructuring the Guard to a force of eight combat divisions and 18 brigades, which the Pentagon would fit in more closely with regular Army plans. Most important, it would permit the removal of all 50%-manned units and raise the rest to 90% manning, which would make the Guard all the closer to readiness for combat duty.

For Community & for Country

McNamara's reorganization would go a long way toward improving the Guard's readiness for foreign emergencies. It would not, of course, cut to the heart of the question: state control. In 1903, after disastrous results with the militia in the Spanish-American War, Secretary of War Elihu Root vainly sought to eliminate the states' role and create a reserve of militiamen controlled entirely by the Federal Government. In 1948, a Defense Department committee under Assistant Secretary (and later Secretary) of the Army Gordon Gray urged much the same. There is much to be said for this federalized-militia approach, which would leave it to the states to form their own internal-security forces against domestic disturbances.

Above all, the fact must be faced that as it stands, the National Guard is generally not fit for either side of its dual role. It is not properly constituted, equipped or trained to fight a modern war. It is even less prepared to deal with domestic riots. While some of its severest critics believe that it should be abolished, that is too total a solution for the safety of the people. The U.S. needs a capable reserve in order to limit the size of the permanent military establishment and still afford adequate protection in time of emergency. The states must have an effective force for riot control and service in time of disaster. It is time for politicians as well as professional and citizen soldiers to put aside their own interests and prejudices and turn their efforts to a solution that will best serve their states and their country.

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