I have spent much of my life around war. My first combat tour was in Vietnam in 1969-70, where I served as an infantry platoon commander and later a reconnaissance platoon commander. I returned during the 1972 Easter Offensive as an aerial observer and Vietnamese linguist. Later came the evacuation of Americans from Beirut in 1976, service during the 1990-91 First Gulf War, and, after retiring from the Marine Corps, 11 years training and mentoring security forces in Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan.
Those experiences taught me a lesson America repeatedly seems determined to relearn the hard way: Winning battles is not the same as winning wars.
Vietnam and Afghanistan were separated by decades, geography, culture, and technology. Yet I watched America repeat many of the same mistakes.
We entered conflicts without adequately defining the political end state. We supported governments riddled with corruption. Our enemies operated from sanctuaries across international borders. We poured enormous resources into building indigenous security forces without ensuring those institutions could survive without us. And eventually, after Americans grew tired of seemingly endless commitments, we left.
I saw the consequences firsthand.
As a young Marine in Vietnam, I witnessed corruption at the village level. Policemen demanded protection money and percentages of crops and merchandise. Yet as a second lieutenant, I had neither the authority nor influence to change a political system far beyond my pay grade.
Decades later in Afghanistan, I experienced an unsettling sense of deja vu.
As a contractor training the Afghan National Army, I reported in 2006 that the 207th Corps suffered systemic problems that threatened our entire modernization effort. Daily personnel strength was, by my estimate, only about 36% of what it should have been. Units sometimes had to cobble together composite forces merely to conduct routine combat operations.
I warned that unless these problems were corrected, we would fail to create an Afghan force capable of defending its own country.
The problems went deeper than readiness.
Corruption, nepotism, phantom soldiers, theft, poor accountability, and a lack of consequences undermined our efforts. We were spending American treasure trying to construct institutions whose foundations were rotten.
I raised the alarm again years later in an assessment I called “Enemy on the Inside.”
The title was deliberate.
The Taliban was certainly an enemy. But corruption inside the system we were trying to build was destroying our mission from within. We could train soldiers, provide equipment, and spend billions of dollars, but none of it could compensate for institutions unwilling or unable to police themselves.
Then came August 2021.
Watching Afghanistan collapse brought back memories of Saigon in 1975. Different war. Different generation. Disturbingly familiar ending.
Contrast those experiences with the First Gulf War.
When Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in 1990, the objective was understandable: to liberate Kuwait. A broad international coalition supported that objective. Forces were assembled in sufficient strength. The battlefield was systematically prepared. Political leaders gave military commanders latitude to develop and execute an effective campaign.
After an extensive air campaign, the ground war lasted roughly 100 hours.
The military objective was achieved.
That experience demonstrated what can happen when political objectives and military strategy are aligned.
The lesson is not that America should never use military force. There are circumstances when force is necessary to defend our nation and our interests. Nor should every setback be blamed upon civilian leaders. In our constitutional system, civilian control of the military is fundamental.
But before politicians send young Americans into harm’s way, they owe those Americans clear answers.
What vital national security interest are we defending? What precisely is the mission? What does victory look like? Does the public support the commitment? What strategy will achieve the objective? How will we pay for it? What is the desired political end state? And perhaps most importantly: How do we return the region to peace when the mission is accomplished?
If our national leaders cannot answer those questions, they have no business asking young Americans to kill and die.
I have no regrets about serving in Vietnam. Knowing what I know today, I would still have volunteered. I was a Marine, and Marines go where their country sends them.
But that willingness places an extraordinary obligation upon those who send them.
The warrior’s responsibility is to accomplish the mission.
The nation’s responsibility is to ensure that mission is worth accomplishing.
America possesses extraordinary military power. But military superiority cannot compensate indefinitely for unclear political objectives, corrupt partners, inadequate strategy, or an enemy who has more reason to remain in the fight than we do.
I FOUGHT IN VIETNAM AND DESERT STORM. WINNING IN IRAN REQUIRES BOOTS ON THE GROUND
Before America enters another war, our leaders should remember the lesson written in blood from Vietnam to Afghanistan: Know why we are fighting, know what winning means, and know how the war ends — before the first American is sent into battle.
Failure to learn that lesson will ensure we repeat it.
Tom Williams is a retired Marine Corps lieutenant colonel with 28 years of active-duty service, including two tours in Vietnam, evacuation of Americans from Beirut in 1976, and the liberation of Kuwait in 1990-91, followed by 11 years of contract training and mentoring in Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan. He is the author of the Heart of a Marine book series.