Hillah, Iraq.

The chanting rolled over the walls of the SWAT compound like a fog, thick and chilling. I had never appreciated the power of a mob until that point. Few things compare to a large group united only in their common discontent. The mob is power with few if any safeties, under the control of those with little personal responsibility. The threat is palpable. Until I heard the chanting of united anger, I did not understand that a mob is a weapon.

It started peacefully. Our observer teams reported the gathering at the mosque, and their subsequent march on city hall. We had placed sniper teams on the roof of city hall earlier, and the Green Berets and Anglicos set up a command post at the nearby SWAT compound. Actually, this was the perfect Anglico mission: air support from a somewhat fixed position. Staff Sergeant and I set up the more powerful radios on the hood of Yazoo 25, using our hand held radios for backup communications, and speaker boxes so everyone could hear.

I divided up the tasks so that we were our own air traffic control. Staff Sergeant called for the aircraft from the controlling authority, and I controlled them tactically.

Once we were set up, we sat in to wait. Reports came across about the progress of the march and subsequent rally. Observers reported the setting up of speakers. We heard some Arabic, and then came the chanting.

The chanting of a mob carries a primal fear. It is not like the chanting at the game in a stadium, or even a political rally. Their voices carried their anger and frustration. Chanting has got to be one of the oldest psychological warfare techniques, and it still works. I grew concerned because I was not sure how firm the control of that mob was. Reports began to filter in of waves of aggression rippling through the mob: threatening motions towards the police, and a general agitation of the group. The SWAT commander asked Anglico to provide a show of force to calm the mob down.

I have enough experience with rules, particularly military rules, to understand the importance of the letter of the law. There are very specific limitations on a ‘Show of Force’, not to mention a substantial amount of follow on paperwork. My primary concerns were the limitations on speed and altitude clearly specified in the Rules of Engagement regarding Shows of Force. As the tactical controller, I knew those limitations really would not make the impression that the SWAT commander desired. Moreover, I loathe paperwork.There are no limitations in the Rules of Engagement on a ‘Show of Presence’. For that matter, there is not one mention in the Rules of Engagement for giant lizards with radioactive breath coming out of the sea to ravage The City, either. Some of my best work is in semantics.

Staff Sergeant called the controlling net to request air support. We were provided a single British Tornado. Once he was done with his check in, I explained to the pilot that I didn’t want a Show of Force, but rather a Show of Presence. The aviator didn’t even miss a beat in accepting my instructions, much to his credit. As a rule, aviators don’t feel that rules apply to us, because…well, just because we are aviators. Pilots delight in bending the rules. He was particularly happy when I told him that speed and altitude were at his discretion.

The pilot set up for his pass from North to South, and the chanting of the crowd was blanketed by the blast of jet noise as the Tornado darted overhead, quite, quite low, and quite, quite fast. He pulled up into a climb and lit his afterburners, and the silence following his flyby was thorough. The chanting had stopped, and even the dogs were quiet.

The crowd dispersed shortly thereafter, and our snipers were exfiltrated from the roof of city hall. The normal peace in Hillah returned.One combat control.