[iwar] [fc:The.Art.of.Naming.Operations]

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Subject: [iwar] [fc:The.Art.of.Naming.Operations]
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The Art of Naming Operations
GREGORY C. SIEMINSKI

From Parameters, Autumn 1995, pp. 81-98.

Go to Cumulative Article Index.

Shortly after word spread among key military leaders that President Bush had
ordered the invasion of Panama, Lieutenant General Thomas Kelly, Operations
Officer on the Joint Staff, received a call from General James Lindsay,
Commander-in-Chief (CINC), Special Operations Command. His call did not
concern some last-minute change in the invasion plan; rather, it concerned a
seemingly insignificant detail of the operation: its name. "Do you want your
grandchildren to say you were in Blue Spoon?" he asked.[1] Lieutenant
General Kelly agreed that the name should be changed. After hanging up the
phone, General Kelly discussed alternatives with his deputy for current
operations, Brigadier General Joe Lopez.

"How about Just Action?" Kelly offered.

"How about Just Cause?" Lopez shot back.[2]

So was born the recent trend in nicknaming operations. Since 1989, major US
military operations have been nicknamed with an eye toward shaping domestic
and international perceptions about the activities they describe.[3]
Operation Just Cause is only the most obvious example of this phenomenon.
From names that stress an operation's humanitarian focus, like Operation
Provide Comfort in Turkey, to ones that stress an operation's restoration of
democratic authority, like Operation Uphold Democracy in Haiti, it is
evident that the military has begun to recognize the power of names in
waging a public relations campaign, and the significance of winning that
campaign to the overall effort. As Major General Charles McClain, Chief of
Public Affairs for the Army, has recently written, "the perception of an
operation can be as important to success as the execution of that
operation."[4] Professor Ray Eldon Hiebert, in a piece titled, "Public
Relations as a Weapon of Modern War," elaborates on that view: "The
effective use of words and media today . . . is just as important as the
effective use of bullets and bombs. In the end, it is no longer enough just
to be strong. Now it is necessary to communicate. To win a war today
government not only has to win on the battlefield, it must also win the
minds of its public."[5]

Like any aspect of operational planning, the job of naming operations
initially falls to mid-level staff officers in Defense Department
components, agencies, and unified and specified commands, to which the Joint
Chiefs of Staff have delegated considerable freedom in the naming of
operations. Because nicknames help determine the way operations are
perceived, joint staff officers must develop not only their skill as
operational artists but also their art as operation namers.

An appreciation for the art of doing anything is best gained from
practitioners, both good and bad. By way of offering a sort of historical
apprenticeship, this article reviews the origins and development of the
practice of naming operations, with particular emphasis upon the American
tradition which emerged from World War II. This heretofore unchronicled
story contains useful lessons for officers who must recommend or approve an
operation name.

Operations in the World Wars

Naming operations seems to have originated with the German General Staff
during the last two years of World War I. The Germans used code names
primarily to preserve operational security, though the names were also a
convenient way of referring to subordinate and successive operations. Thus,
it is probably no accident that operational names came into use at the same
time as the rise of operational art. It was simply easier to get a handle on
the complexities of operational sequencing and synchronization by naming
each operation something that the staff could remember. The Germans chose
names that were not only memorable but also inspiring. Plans for the great
Western Front offensive in the spring of 1918, which saw the most extensive
use of operational code names, borrowed from religious, medieval, and
mythological sources: Archangel, St. Michael, St. George, Roland, Mars,
Achilles, Castor, Pollux, and Valkyrie.[6] The selection of these names was
perhaps an adjunct to Ludendorff's patriotic education program, designed to
stir a demoralized and weary army into making one final push.[7] The
original, stirring vision conjured by these names was lost, however, when
several of the planned operations had to be scaled back. St. George, for
example, devolved to the uninspiring diminutive Georgette.[8]

The American military adopted code names during the World War II era,
primarily for security reasons.[9] Its use of code names for operations grew
out of the practice of color-coding war plans during the interwar
period.[10] Even before America entered the war, the War Department had
executed Operation Indigo,[11] the reinforcement of Iceland, and had dubbed
plans to occupy the Azores and Dakar as Operations Gray[12] and Black[13]
respectively.

With the outbreak of the war, the practice of using colors as code names was
overcome by the need to code-name not only a growing number of operations,
but also numerous locations and projects. The War Department adopted a code
word list similar in principle to one already in use by the British. In
early 1942, members of the War Plans Division culled words from an
unabridged dictionary to come up with a list of 10,000 common nouns and
adjectives that were not suggestive of operational activities or locations.
They avoided proper nouns, geographical terms, and names of ships.[14] Since
so many operations would involve the British, they made sure the list did
not conflict with the one developed and managed by their counterparts on the
British Inter-Services Security Board.[15] In March 1942, the Joint Chiefs
of Staff approved the classified Inter-Services Code-Word Index[16] and gave
the War Plans Division the duty of assigning code words.[17] Accordingly,
the War Plans Division (shortly afterward renamed the Operations
Division)[18] assigned blocks of code words to each theater; the European
Theater got such names as Market and Garden, while the Pacific Theater got
names like Olympic and Flintlock.[19]

Although the words listed in the British and American code indexes were
randomly chosen, the names of significant operations were thoughtfully
selected from the lists, at least those Winston Churchill had anything to do
with. Churchill was fascinated with code names and personally selected them
for all major operations.[20] He had clear ideas about what constituted
appropriate names. After coming across several that he considered
inappropriate, he went so far as to instruct an aide to submit all future
code names to him for approval; he dropped his demand when he learned the
magnitude of the task,[21] but he did take the precaution of writing down
some principles to guide his subordinates:
[1.] Operations in which large numbers of men may lose their lives ought not
to be described by code words which imply a boastful or overconfident
sentiment,. . . or, conversely, which are calculated to invest the plan with
an air of despondency. . . . They ought not to be names of a frivolous
character. . . . They should not be ordinary words often used in other
connections. . . . Names of living people--Ministers and Commanders--should
be avoided. . . .
2. After all, the world is wide, and intelligent thought will readily supply
an unlimited number of well-sounding names which do not suggest the
character of the operation or disparage it in any way and do not enable some
widow or mother to say that her son was killed in an operation called
"Bunnyhug" or "Ballyhoo."[22]

Borrowing a page from the Germans of World War I, whose code-naming
practices he knew well from writing his four-volume history of that war,[23]
Churchill saw the names of culturally significant figures as useful sources
of operational code words:
3. Proper names are good in this field. The heroes of antiquity, figures
from Greek and Roman mythology, the constellations and stars, famous
racehorses, names of British and American war heroes, could be used,
provided they fall within the rules above.[24]

Churchill's commonsense principles for naming operations influenced American
as well as British practice. For example, he objected to the code name for
the American bomber raid on the Romanian oil fields in Ploesti because he
thought the name "Soapsuds" was "inappropriate for an operation in which so
many brave Americans would risk or lose their lives."[25] He aired his
objections through the British Chiefs of Staff, who persuaded the Joint
Chiefs of Staff to change the name to the more appropriate and inspirational
Tidal Wave.[26] Churchill's hand also is evident in the naming of many
combined US-British operations, including the American-led invasion of
Normandy. The plan for the 1944 invasion was originally Roundhammer, a
combination of the code names for invasions planned for previous years,
Sledgehammer (1942) and Roundup (1943).[27] While Churchill's personal
response to the name Roundhammer is not recorded, the British official
history of the war calls the name a "revolting neologism."[28] Whether this
strong reaction was shared by Churchill or not, he changed the name to
Overlord,[29] deservedly the best-known operational code name to emerge from
World War II.[30] The name suggests, as David Kahn has noted, "a sense of
majesty and patriarchal vengeance and irresistible power."[31] Whether or
not Churchill violated his own advice about avoiding names which imply
overconfidence, the name Overlord may well have strengthened the resolve of
those who planned the assault on fortress Europe.

The Axis powers also recognized the inspirational value of code names.
Although the Japanese typically numbered or alphabetically designated their
operations,[32] they resorted to inspirational names as their strategic
situation worsened, not unlike the Germans during World War I. The Japanese
offensive designed to thwart the Allied landings at Leyte Gulf, for example,
was optimistically dubbed Operation Victory.[33]

The Germans made extensive use of code names for plans and operations and
usually chose names at random; however, major operations often got special
consideration by the German leadership.[34] Perhaps the most well-known
example of this is the code name for the 1941 invasion of the Soviet Union.
Initially, the operation was christened Fritz, after the son of the plan's
author, Colonel Bernhard Von Lossberg.[35] But Hitler would not have his
grand project named something so pedestrian, Lossberg's sentimental
attachment notwithstanding. On 11 December 1940 he renamed the operation
Barbarossa, the folk name of the 12th-century Holy Roman Emperor Frederick
I, who had extended German authority over the Slavs in the east and who,
legend said, would rise again to establish a new German Empire.[36] In
selecting a name with these inspirational associations, Hitler risked
revealing his intentions--the very thing code names are designed to conceal.
In the case of Barbarossa, Hitler seems to have been lucky; in the case of
Operation Sealion, his planned invasion of Britain, he was not. British
intelligence divined Sealion's target from its telltale name.[37]

Using Nicknames to Shape Perceptions

The efforts of Hitler and Churchill notwithstanding, World War II operation
names had limited effect on shaping attitudes because they were classified
until after the war ended.[38] Thus, their effect on troop morale was
limited to those with clearances, and their effect on public perception was
delayed until after the war, at which point the names were merely historical
curiosities.

But in America, shortly after the war ended, the War Department decided to
use operation names for public information purposes in connection with
atomic bomb testing. To this end, the War Department created a new category
of unclassified operation names, which are known as nicknames to distinguish
them from classified code words. Code words are assigned a classified
meaning and are used to safeguard classified plans and operations, while
nicknames are assigned unclassified meanings and are used for
administrative, morale, and public information purposes.[39]

Nicknames offered new possibilities for shaping attitudes about operations,
and the first person to make use of one took full advantage of the
potential. Vice Admiral W. H. P. Blandy, the commander of the joint task
force conducting the 1946 atomic bomb tests on Bikini Atoll, selected the
nickname Operation Crossroads with great care. He chose it, he told a Senate
committee, because of the test's possible significance--"that seapower,
airpower, and perhaps humanity itself . . . were at the crossroads."[40]
Admiral Blandy was especially proud of the name, and when he discovered that
the word was already assigned to another activity, he pulled strings to get
it assigned to the Bikini tests.[41]

The press publicized not only the name, but also Blandy's rationale for
selecting it, and did so with general approbation.[42] Commenting on
Blandy's public relations savvy, one historian wrote: "The choice of names
was brilliant, implying to some that the military was unsure of its
direction and was truly in awe of the atomic bomb."[43] However, some in the
press were not so enamored with Blandy or his choice of name. In an article
lampooning Blandy, The New Yorker commented with unmistakable sarcasm that
the name "has been greatly admired in literary and non-violent circles."[44]
The sarcasm seems to suggest that while the general public might admire the
name, literary and non-violent audiences were not taken in by Blandy's
public relations methods. This would not be the last time members of the
media would resent the military's success in popularizing a carefully chosen
nickname.

Operations in Korea

Although the military had learned the value of well-chosen nicknames during
the peacetime atomic bomb tests, it continued to use meaningless code names
during wartime to protect operational security. At least this was true early
in the Korean War. In planning the Inchon landing, General Douglas MacArthur
and his subordinates followed the World War II practice of selecting
operation names from an established code word list. The earliest plan was
dubbed Operation Bluehearts, and the one actually executed was Operation
Chromite.[45]

MacArthur did depart from World War II practice in one important respect: he
permitted code names to be declassified and disseminated to the press once
operations had begun, rather than waiting until the end of the war.[46]
Thus, combat operation names were, for the first time, public knowledge as
operations unfolded. Curiously, MacArthur, with all his public relations
savvy, failed to see the opportunities this offered for shaping perceptions.

China's intervention in the Korean War helped Lieutenant General Matthew
Ridgway see what MacArthur had not. Ridgway took command of the Eighth Army
as it was reeling southward under relentless Chinese attack. His first task,
he realized, was to restore the fighting spirit of his badly demoralized
command.[47] One way he did this was by giving decidedly aggressive
nicknames to the series of counteroffensives undertaken from February to
April 1951: Thunderbolt, Roundup, Killer, Ripper, Courageous, Audacious, and
Dauntless. Because these names were not classified once operations began,
they were widely disseminated among Eighth Army soldiers to boost
morale.[48] Ridgway's unprecedented use of meaningful combat operation names
set the tone for one of the most remarkable transformations of any military
organization in history. The reinvigorated Eighth Army pushed the Chinese
back to the 38th parallel.

If Ridgway's names contributed to success on the battlefield, they were not
nearly so successful on the home front. Ridgway had publicly announced not
only the start of his first major counteroffensive, but also its nickname:
Operation Killer.[49] In doing so, he may have imagined that he could boost
the morale of the public in the same way he hoped to inspire his troops.
After all, the news from the front had been bad for months--so bad, in fact,
that the US Far East Command had suspended communiques dealing with
operational matters the previous fall.[50] It was probably no coincidence
that the communiques resumed the day after the start of Operation
Killer.[51] Certainly some of Ridgway's troops thought that Killer and other
names had been chosen with the media in mind.[52]

In any event, more than a few observers objected to Ridgway's operation
name, which was prominently displayed in many newspaper and magazine
articles.[53] One critic was the Army Chief of Staff, General J. Lawton
Collins, who informed Ridgway that "the word `killer' . . . struck an
unpleasant note as far as public relations was concerned."[54] Certainly
public relations suffered: several writers criticized the name directly or
implicitly in letters to The New York Times;[55] the International
Longshoremen's and Warehousemen's Union issued a report in which the name
served as the rubric for the entire conflict, which it called a "phony" war
emergency;[56] Republicans pointed to the term as evidence that the Truman
Administration had no other aim in Korea but to kill Chinese;[57] and the
State Department objected that the name had soured negotiations with the
People's Republic of China.[58]

While the incident taught Ridgway "how varied . . . the political pressures
[can be in waging] . . . a major war,"[59] he remained unrepentant about his
selection of the name: "I am not convinced that the country should not be
told that war means killing. I am by nature opposed to any effort to `sell'
war to people as an only mildly unpleasant business that requires very
little in the way of blood."[60] However opposed his nature may have been to
soft-pedaling the realities of war, operations after Killer and its
immediate successor, Ripper, were given less bloody names.

Operations in Vietnam

Early in the Vietnam War, operations were often given nicknames descriptive
of the missions they designated. For example, a combined US Marine and South
Vietnamese operation designed to increase the area of control of the Marine
enclave at Da Nang was dubbed Blastout.[61] The names of air operations in
early 1966 suggest the widening of the air war against North Vietnam. The
two retaliatory air strikes against carefully selected North Vietnamese
installations were known as Flaming Dart I and II, while the gradually
escalating strategic bombing effort begun shortly thereafter was known as
Rolling Thunder.[62]

The penchant for giving descriptive names to operations in Vietnam caused
the military to relearn the lesson of Operation Killer. On 25 January 1966,
the 1st Cavalry Division began a sweep operation through the Bong Son Plain
which it had dubbed Masher,[63] presumably because the operation envisioned
the enemy being mashed against a second force comprised of Marines.[64]
Owing to the media's free access to military units and the lack of
censorship during the war, nicknames like Masher were frequently reported by
the media as operations progressed. And because Masher was a major operation
conducted by the novel "airmobile cavalry" division, it attracted a fair
degree of media attention, causing the name to be widely circulated on
television and in the print media.[65] When President Johnson heard it, he
angrily protested that it did not reflect "pacification emphasis."[66]
General William Westmoreland put it more bluntly when he speculated that
"President Johnson . . . objected . . . because the connotation of violence
provided a focus for carping war critics."[67] To remove their focus, the
division commander quickly renamed the operation White Wing.[68]

The lesson of the Masher incident was not lost on Westmoreland: "We later
used names of American cities, battles, or historic figures [for
operations]."[69] Indeed, reading the names of operations mounted in Vietnam
after February 1966 is like reading a cross between a gazetteer and a
history book.[70] Names such as Junction City, Bastogne, and Nathan Hale
were imbued with American associations and values, and thus were politically
safe, as well as potentially inspirational.

Like Ridgway, Westmoreland tried his own hand at the art of operational
naming. Also like Ridgway, he did so to inspire demoralized soldiers. In
early 1968, the garrison of 6000 US and South Vietnamese troops at Khe Sanh
found itself surrounded by an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 North Vietnamese
regulars. Many critics saw a Dien Bien Phu in the making, and the
beleaguered troops could not but be infected by the prevailing sense of
doom. To combat their dispiriting mood, Westmoreland named the
round-the-clock bombing and shelling of enemy positions Operation Niagara.
He selected the name, he said, "to invoke an image of cascading shells and
bombs," an image obviously designed to reassure the Khe Sanh garrison.[71]

As the Vietnam War drew to a close, the Department of Defense for the first
time issued guidelines concerning nicknaming operations.[72] It is clear
from reading the guidelines--which remain in force today[73]--that its
authors learned well the lessons of Operations Killer and Masher. Noting
that improperly selected nicknames "can be counterproductive," the
regulation specifies that nicknames must not: "express a degree of
bellicosity inconsistent with traditional American ideals or current foreign
policy"; "convey connotations offensive to good taste or derogatory to a
particular group, sect, or creed"; "convey connotations offensive to [US]
allies or other Free World nations"; or employ "exotic words, trite
expressions, or well-known commercial trademarks."[74] The regulation
further stipulates that a nickname must consist of two words (which helps
distinguish it from a code word, which consists of only one) and requires
the JCS to establish procedures for DOD components to nominate and report
nicknames.[75]

Post-Vietnam Automation

In 1975, the JCS implemented these guidelines by establishing a computer
system to fully automate the maintenance and reconciliation of nicknames,
code words, and exercise terms.[76] The computer system, called the Code
Word, Nickname, and Exercise Term System (an unwieldy name shortened to
NICKA), is still in operation today and can be accessed through the
Worldwide Military Command and Control System. The NICKA system is not, as
some assume, a random word generator for nicknames; it is, in fact, merely
an automated means for submitting, validating, and storing them. The
authority to create nicknames rests not with those who manage the NICKA
system, but with 24 DOD components, agencies, and unified and specified
commands.[77] JCS assigns each of these organizations a series of two-letter
alphabetic sequences and requires that the first word of each two-word
nickname begin with a letter pair from one of the sequences.[78] For
example, the US Atlantic Command (USACOM) is assigned six two-letter
alphabetic sequences: AG-AL, ES-EZ, JG-JL, QA-QF, SM-SR, and UM-UR.[79]
Selecting the letter pair UR from the last of these sequences, a staff
officer recommended the nickname Urgent Fury for the 1983 invasion of
Grenada.

Clearly, staff officers in DOD components, agencies, and unified and
specified commands have considerable freedom in creating nicknames,
certainly far more than their Vietnam-era predecessors. There is, and has
been for 20 years, plenty of room for artistry in naming operations.

In the first 15 years of the new system's existence, however, there was
little attempt to exploit the power of nicknaming to improve either troop
morale or public and international relations. Nicknames used from 1975
through 1988 were generally meaningless word pairs similar to the operation
names used during World War II: Eldorado Canyon (the 1986 Libya raid),
Praying Mantis (the 1988 air strikes targeting Iranian naval vessels and oil
platforms), and Golden Pheasant (a 1988 show of force to deter Nicaraguan
violations of Honduran territory). When nicknames were chosen purposefully,
as in the case of Urgent Fury, the effect was overdone.[80] Undoubtedly, the
staff officer who came up with "Urgent Fury" was intent on inspiring the
troops executing the mission, but he failed to consider the reaction of the
media and general public. The name, which was divulged to the press shortly
after the invasion,[81] only fueled the arguments of critics who accused the
military of excess in committing so much combat power to the
operation[82]--which, one wag suggested, "the New York Police Department
could have won."[83] Another critic implied that the name belied the
rationale for the invasion. Urgent Fury sounded "too militant," he
suggested; if we had really been provoked into invading the tiny island
nation, then why not "Reluctant Necessity"?[84]

Undoubtedly one reason for the military's failure to use operation names to
improve public relations was the strained relationship that existed between
the military and the media during this 15-year period. Many in the military
blamed the loss of the Vietnam War on the media's critical reporting, which,
it was argued, soured the American public's will to continue the fight.
Nowhere is this attitude toward the media more evident than in Urgent Fury,
where Vice Admiral Metcalf initially refused to allow the media access to
the combat zone. The motive for this restriction was transparent:
Shutting the press out of Grenada was . . . based on a fear that an
unrestrained press might muck things up again as many senior leaders
believed they had done in Vietnam. If the press [was] not present, then
there [was] no need to be concerned about . . . media spin.[85]

Given such prevailing attitudes, it is small wonder that the staff officer
who came up with the name Urgent Fury failed to consider the media's
response to the nickname, much less use a name calculated to create a
positive response to the event. That the media could be used to develop
public support for operations was a notion foreign to many in the military
at the time.

Just Cause--or High Hokum?

Just Cause was the first US combat operation since the Korean War whose
nickname was designed to shape domestic and international perceptions about
the mission it designated. And it is perhaps unsurprising that the man who
helped formulate the name, Lieutenant General Kelly, held an undergraduate
degree in journalism.[86] His background equipped him to appreciate what
others could not: that naming an operation is tantamount to seizing the high
ground in waging a public relations campaign. By declaring the Panama
invasion a just cause, the nickname sought to contrast US motives with the
injustices of the Noriega regime, which included election fraud, drug
trafficking, harassment of US service members and their dependents, and the
murder of a Marine officer. The gambit largely succeeded. The name,
prominently mentioned in Pentagon press releases, was widely circulated by
the media, which generally accepted the term without protest.
Network news anchors adopted the phrase "Operation Just Cause" to refer to
the invasion as if they had invented the phrase. In less than an hour after
the Bush administration started using the phrase "Operation Just Cause," the
network news anchors were asking questions like "How is Operation Just Cause
going?"[87]

At least two editorials adopted the phrase by way of endorsing the
invasion.[88]

Naming the operation Just Cause was risky, however, not only because it was
an obvious public relations ploy, but also because it apparently sought to
preempt judgment about whether, in fact, the invasion really was moral,
legal, and righteous. Some saw this as overreaching. A New York Times
editorial entitled "Operation High Hokum" noted how different the nickname
was from previous nonsense names and criticized it as an "overreach of
sentiment."[89] Several years later, a more spirited critic wrote:
It was an extremely cynical gambit to name a blatantly unjust invasion
Operation Just Cause. It betrayed the administration's insecurity about an
illegal invasion of a sovereign country. The label was, therefore, very
important . . . in creating the impression among the general population that
the US government was pursuing a morally righteous cause. [It was] blatant
propaganda.[90]

"Just Cause" illustrates both the power and the limits of nicknames in
shaping perceptions about military operations. Few would object to the
Defense Department engaging in what some have called "public
diplomacy"[91]--the attempt to portray its activities in a positive light to
bolster troop morale and to garner domestic and international support.
Commercial firms carefully consider product names to ensure success in the
marketplace; why should the government's approach to naming military
operations be any different? But there is a point at which aggressive
marketing turns public relations into propaganda. Going beyond this point
breeds cynicism rather than support. Precisely where this point is may be
ill-defined, but the nickname Just Cause probably came close to it.

Operation Just Cause ushered in a new era in the nicknaming of US military
operations, one in which operations are given names carefully selected to
shape perceptions about them. To fully understand what spawned this new era,
one must look beyond the immediate influence of Operation Just Cause. While
the Panama invasion certainly helped military leaders recognize how powerful
nicknames could be in shaping attitudes, two other important trends were at
work.

The first trend was the growing recognition among the military leadership
that the media could be an ally rather than an opponent in the public
relations effort. Articles arguing for cooperation with the media abound in
professional military journals after 1989.[92] If nicknames were to contain
a message, then the media would be a useful means of communicating it.

The second trend was the growing relative importance of nicknames in
relation to the shrinking scale of military action. During previous wars
like Korea and Vietnam, individual operations were but a small piece of a
much larger effort, so operation nicknames attracted relatively little
attention. In recent times, when wars are fought with unprecedented speed
and when circumscribed peacekeeping, humanitarian, and relief missions
proliferate, a single operation usually encompasses the entire event. The
Persian Gulf War is an exception, but even in that case the confrontation
consisted of only two operations. Nicknames have become synonyms for entire
conflicts; "Desert Storm," for example, is frequently used in place of "Gulf
War."[93]

Desert Shield to Sea Angel

In August 1990, the Central Command (CENTCOM) staff expended considerable
effort in selecting the best name for the operation designed to defend Saudi
Arabia from Iraqi invasion. The fact that so much effort went into naming
Desert Shield suggests the radical change in attitude which had occurred in
the nine months since the invasion of Panama, when the transformation of the
name Blue Spoon into Just Cause occurred as an afterthought shortly before
the operation began. The naming of Operation Desert Shield and its
successor, Desert Storm, also illustrates the critical role of artistry in
the process.

During the hectic days of planning the deployment to the Gulf, CENTCOM staff
officers managed to compile a list of candidate nicknames three pages
long,[94] from which General H. Norman Schwarzkopf initially selected the
name Peninsula Shield. The first two letters of the first word, PE, are not
assigned to CENTCOM, so it is clear that CENTCOM felt that selecting the
right name was more important than sticking to its assigned alphabetic
sequences. However, the JCS rejected the name,[95] perhaps because the
mission called for defending only portions rather than the entirety of the
Arabian Peninsula, or because "peninsula" was not thought to be
characteristic enough of the region. Other names were considered, including
Crescent Shield--a name intended to appeal to the Saudis and other Arab
allies--but this too was rejected.[96] In the end, CENTCOM proposed and JCS
accepted Desert Shield,[97] a name which suggested both the region's
characteristic geography and CENTCOM's defensive mission.[98] The metaphor
of the shield was well chosen because it emphasized not only US deterrence
but also Iraqi aggression, for a shield is only necessary when a sword has
been unsheathed. In the context of the metaphor, the deployment of US troops
was necessary to deter an Iraqi sword that had already bloodied itself in
Kuwait. Such careful and effective wordsmithing played well with domestic
and international observers, setting a context conducive to garnering
support for the operation.

The naming of the offensive phase of the Gulf campaign was no less
effective. Recognizing the success of the nickname Desert Shield, General
Schwarzkopf played off the name in coming up with Desert Storm,[99]
establishing a thematic linkage which would later be employed in subsequent
and subordinate operations as well: the name of the ground offensive was
Desert Saber; the redeployment was called Desert Farewell; the distribution
of leftover food to the US poor was Desert Share. This family of operation
names drew grudging admiration from The Nation: "You have to admire the
Defense Department P.R. people who thought up the names for the various
phases of the war, each carefully calibrated to send the correct propaganda
message."[100] Characterizing the names as propaganda is a cynical label
which could be applied to any government-sponsored public relations effort,
but, for all its cynicism, the comment does suggest how successful CENTCOM's
operation names were in developing public support for its various missions.

General Schwarzkopf was probably inspired to use the storm metaphor by the
name of the air operation, which Air Force planners had dubbed Instant
Thunder.[101] The storm metaphor associated the offensive with the
unleashing of overwhelming natural forces, an association which was as
politically astute as it was inspirational, cloaking the military offensive
in the garb of natural phenomena. When the long-awaited offensive began,
General Schwarzkopf played upon the metaphor's inspirational power in his
message to his troops: "You must be the thunder and lightning of Desert
Storm," he told them.[102] The General's statement was widely publicized and
admired; one writer commented that Schwarzkopf's rhetoric "sounded
positively Churchillian."[103] Thus, the name served to inspire the nation
as well as the troops.

Not all post-Just Cause nicknames have been as successful as Desert Shield
and Desert Storm. For example, the name for the US Marine operation to aid
victims of the 1991 typhoon which devastated Bangladesh was originally
Operation Productive Effort, a name that General Colin Powell admitted he
never liked and which neither he nor his staff could remember. "After a day
of struggling with Productive Effort, I said to my staff, `We've just got to
get a better name.'" When the following day's newspaper reported that the
Bangladeshis who saw the Marines coming in from the sea by helicopter and
landing craft said, "Look! Look! Angels! From the sea!" the operation was
rechristened Sea Angel.[104]

Guidelines for Naming Operations

The Productive Effort incident demonstrates that the military still has some
learning to do about the art of naming operations. Rules for helping staff
officers through the process would be of little value because nicknaming is
an art rather than a science. Yet four general suggestions emerge from the
last 45 years of nicknaming operations: make it meaningful, target the key
audiences, be wary of fashions, and make it memorable. These suggestions and
the prudent guidelines already published in DOD Regulation 5200.1-R may
prevent another "(non)Productive Effort."

First, make it meaningful. Don't waste a public relations opportunity,
particularly where highly visible operations are involved. If the Gulf War
has taught us anything, it has shown us how powerful words and images can be
in shaping perceptions. But in the pursuit of a meaningful name, avoid those
that border on the propagandistic. It is one thing to name an operation with
a view to gaining public support first; it is quite another to put a label
on an operation that insists upon its morality. However righteous an
operation might appear to be, a name like Just Cause can be distasteful to
the media and general public, not necessarily because they disagree with the
justness of the cause, but because they resent having such words put
(literally) in their mouths. The more prudent course is to find names that
reinforce policy objectives by emphasizing the mission and its rationale.
Such an approach is likely to satisfy all critics except those who view any
government public relations effort as propaganda.

Second, identify and target the critical audiences. While it has been
pointed out that "in the global media environment, the information provided
to one audience must be considered available to all audiences,"[105] it is
seldom possible to effectively target all potential audiences using a
two-word nickname. Thus, one must chose one's target carefully. The first
impulse might be to consider only the morale of the troops and the support
of the American public, but two other audiences should be considered as
well: the international community, including allies and coalition partners;
and the enemy.

The importance of these audiences varies with the situation. Where an
operation poses safety concerns to a foreign population, the operation name
should be designed to allay those concerns. For example, the operation to
remove chemical weapons from Europe was named Steel Box, "a solid, positive
name" which "implied leakproof execution, thus reassuring our allies."[106]
Where US forces operate with coalition partners or allies, the operation may
benefit from a name that emphasizes solidarity. We routinely use such a
strategy in naming combined exercises like Team Spirit, and we sometimes
elect to downplay US participation by employing the language of the partner
nations, like Fuertes Unitas (United Forces).

In certain situations, even the enemy can be the critical audience, since
operation and exercise names can send clear signals of US intentions. For
example, Earnest Will was the name of the operation to escort reflagged oil
tankers through the Persian Gulf, a name which conveyed to the Iranians the
firmness of US resolve in defending the vessels. An amphibious exercise
mounted before the Gulf War was dubbed Imminent Thunder, a name clearly
designed to intimidate the Iraqis.

Third, be cautious of fashions. Operation nicknames enjoy periods of
popularity just like personal names. The current fashion in nicknaming
operations is to make the names sound like mission statements by using a
verb-noun sequence: Promote Liberty, Restore Hope, Uphold Democracy, Provide
Promise. ("Provide" is the most popular verb, having been used in the names
of six different operations during the 1989-1993 period.[107]) There is
value in this approach because it tends to keep the mission foremost in the
minds of the troops executing it, and it reminds domestic and international
audiences why the mission was undertaken. But there is also a certain
formulaic monotony about such names which makes them less memorable than
they might otherwise be. Like having a 1950s classroom full of Dicks and
Janes, it's hard to tell the Provide Hopes and Comforts apart.

Finally, make it memorable. To shape perceptions, nicknames must gain
currency, something that can happen only if they cling to the cobwebs of the
mind. This was one failing of the name Productive Effort; if the Joint Staff
couldn't even remember it, how would it affect the general public? The name
had three strikes against it: it lacked uniqueness (all operations are
efforts, and one hopes that all are productive); it was abstract (what is a
productive effort anyway?); and it was too long (five syllables).

To avoid these failings, start by identifying unique attributes of the
operation. Try to capture those characteristics in specific terms with a
metaphor or with words that evoke an image. Try to keep each word to two
syllables or less. Sea Angel, the name that replaced Productive Effort, has
all the traits of a memorable name: it is unique and specific; it evokes a
clear image in more than one culture; and it has only three syllables.
Desert Shield and Desert Storm share those traits. It is no accident that
the latter name is so frequently substituted for the name Gulf War. People
remember it.

Applying the four guidelines will result in an effectively nicknamed
operation, an outcome that can help win the war of images. In that war, the
operation name is the first--and quite possibly the decisive--bullet to be
fired. Mold and aim it with care.

NOTES

1. I have discarded the American typographic convention of capitalizing
operation names in the their entirety on the assumption that this would be
distracting in a paper full of such names. (As a general rule, it is
likewise the typographic house style of Parameters to capitalize only the
first letter of operation names. In addition to being "distracting," the
practice of setting operation names in all capitals--while historically
accurate--can be confusing, making them appear as acronyms. Our choice in
this matter has been for clarity over strict historical accuracy, despite
the objection of some of our historian advisors.--Editor)

2. Bob Woodward, The Commanders (New York: Pocket Star Books, 1991), pp.
149-50.

3. For a comprehensive listing of nicknamed operations over the five-year
period starting in 1989, see Francis M. Doyle, Karen J. Lewis, and Leslie A.
Williams, Named Military Operations from January 1989 to December 1993 (Fort
Monroe, Va.: TRADOC Technical Library, 1994). Nicknames and code words are
not the same. As noted later in this article, code words are assigned a
classified meaning and are used to safeguard classified plans and
operations, while nicknames are assigned unclassified meanings and are used
for administrative, morale, and public information purposes.

4. Charles W. McClain, Jr., and Garry D. Levin, "Public Affairs in America's
21st Century," Military Review, 74 (November 1994), 11.

5. Ray Elon Hiebert, "Public Relations as a Weapon of Modern Warfare," in
Desert Storm and the Mass Media, ed. Bradley S. Greenberg and Walter Gantz
(Cresskill, N.J.: Hampton Press, 1993), p. 36.

6. Barrie Pitt, 1918: The Last Act (New York: W. W. Norton, 1962), pp.
47-50.

7. Robert B. Asprey, The German High Command at War: Hindenburg and
Ludendorff Conduct World War I (New York: William Morrow, 1991), pp. 340-41.

8. Ibid., pp. 392-93.

9. Memorandum from Dwight D. Eisenhower to the Adjutant General, Subject:
Code Words to Designate Plans, Projects, Localities, etc., 10 March 1942,
National Archives Record Group Number 407, p. 1.

10. Ray S. Cline, United States Army in World War II: Vol. IV, The War
Department: Part 2, Washington Command Post: The Operations Division
(Washington: GPO, 1951), p. 65, n. 59.

11. Mark Skinner Watson, United States Army in World War II: Vol. IV, The
War Department: Part 1, Chief of Staff: Prewar Plans and Preparations
(Washington: GPO, 1950), pp. 487-90.

12. Maurice Matloff and Edwin M. Snell, United States Army in World War II:
Vol IV, The War Department: Part 3, Strategic Planning for Coalition
Warfare, 1941-1942 (Washington: GPO, 1953), p. 50, n. 67.

13. Ibid., p. 103, n. 22.

14. Bill Hines, "Operation CODENAME," Infantry Journal, March 1947, p. 42.

15. Ibid.; on the code-naming functions of the Inter-Services Security
Board, see the following sources: Ewen Montagu, Beyond Top Secret Ultra (New
York: Coward, McCann, and Geoghegan, 1978), p. 52; F. H. Hinsley and C. A.
G. Simkins, British Intelligence in the Second World War: Vol. IV, Security
and Counter-Intelligence (New York: Cambridge Univ. Press), p. 247.

16. Minutes of the Sixth JCS Meeting, 18 March 1942, p. 3; available on
microfilm, Records of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, 1942-45 (Frederick, Md.:
University Publications of America, 1983).

17. Eisenhower.

18. When the War Plans Division was renamed the Operations Division on 23
March 1942, the newly reconstituted Current Section was assigned code
management responsibilities, a function it performed for the duration of the
war; see Ray S. Cline, United States Army in World War II: Vol. IV, The War
Department: Part 2, Washington Command Post: The Operations Division
(Washington: GPO, 1951), pp. 106, 131.

19. Hines, p. 42.

20. Warren F. Kimball, ed., Churchill and Roosevelt: The Complete
Correspondence: Vol. I, Alliance Emerging, October 1933-November 1942
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1984), p. 280; also Vol. II,
Alliance Forged, November 1942-February 1944, pp. 491-92.

21. Ibid.

22. Winston S. Churchill, The Second World War: Vol. V, Closing the Ring
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1951), p. 662.

23. Churchill, The World Crisis: 1916-1918 (New York: Scribners, 1927), I,
279; also II, 125ff.

24. Churchill, Closing the Ring, p. 662.

25. Kimball, I, 280.

26. Ibid.

27. Michael Howard, History of the Second World War: United Kingdom Military
Series: Vol. IV, Grand Strategy, August 1942-September 1943 (London: HMSO,
1972), p. 430.

28. Ibid.

29. W. G. F. Jackson, "Overlord": Normandy 1944 (London: Davis-Poynter,
1978), p. 89; Omar N. Bradley, A Soldier's Story (New York: Henry Holt,
1951), p. 172.

30. Churchill may have sought an alternative to Roundhammer as much for
security reasons as aesthetics. This name, in conjunction with the name of
the planned invasion of southern France, dubbed Anvil, gave a pretty clear
hint as to the Allies' hammer-and-anvil strategy. While the foregoing is my
own speculation, it is known that Anvil was renamed Dragoon precisely
because the Allies feared that "the enemy might finally light on the
significance of the word." See Forrest C. Pogue, George C. Marshall, Vol.
II, Organizer of Victory (New York: Viking Press, 1973), p. 413.

31. David Kahn, The Codebreakers: The Story of Secret Writing (New York:
Macmillan, 1967), p. 503.

32. Hines, p. 43.

33. E. B. Potter, Sea Power: A Naval History (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.:
Prentice-Hall, 1960), p. 777.

34. Barton Whaley, Codeword Barbarossa (Cambridge, Mass.: Massachusetts
Institute of Technology Press, 1973), p. 16, note.

35. David Irving, Hitler's War (New York: Viking Press, 1977), p. 142.

36. Whaley, p. 18.

37. Montagu, p. 53.

38. The first World War II operation names were made public on 10 October
1945, upon release of: US War Dept., General Staff, Biennial Report of the
Chief of the United States Army, July 1, 1943 to June 30, 1945, to the
Secretary of War (Washington: GPO, 1945). See "Code Names of Big Operations
Revealed; Invasion of Kyushu Was to Be `Olympic,'" The New York Times, 10
October 1945, p. 13.

39. US Dept. of Defense, Joint Publication 1-02, Department of Defense
Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms (Washington: GPO, 23 March
1994), pp. 72, 261.

40. David Sidney Shalett, "Test Atomic Bombs to Blast 100 Ships at Marshalls
Atoll," The New York Times, 25 January 1946, p. 1.

41. Jonathan M. Weisgall, Operation Crossroads: The Atomic Tests at Bikini
Atoll (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1994), p. 32.

42. See, for example, "Operation Crossroads," The New York Times Magazine,
17 February 1946, p. 8.

43. Weisgall, p. 32.

44. "Notes and Comment," The New Yorker, 27 July 1946, p. 12.

45. D. Clayton James, The Years of MacArthur: Vol. III, Triumph and
Disaster, 1945-1964 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1985), p. 465.

46. For example, the name Operation Chromite appeared in Time only ten days
after the landing took place. Because the name was meaningless, it received
only passing attention. See "Battle of Korea," Time, 25 September 1950, p.
26.

47. Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War: How We Met the Challenge (Garden
City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1967), 85ff.

48. For one Marine's reaction to the name Ripper, see Henry Berry, Hey, Mac,
Where Ya Been? Living Memories of the U.S. Marines in the Korean War (New
York: St. Martin's Press, 1988), p. 209.

49. Ridgway actually told reporters about Operation Killer before it
commenced but requested that they not report the information until the
attack had begun. See James F. Schnabel, United States Army in the Korean
War: Vol. III, Policy and Direction: The First Year (Washington: GPO, 1972),
p. 340.

50. Lindesay Parrott, "U.N. Units Advance More Than 8 Miles in Drive in
Center," The New York Times, 22 February 1951, p. 1.

51. Ibid.

52. Berry, pp. 26, 209.

53. Parrott; "Operation Killer," The New York Times, 25 February 1951, sec.
IV, p. 1; Lindesay Parrott, "U.S. Forces Launch 2 Attacks on Reds; Main Push
Goes On," The New York Times, 1 March 1951, p. 1; "Gen. Matt and Gen. Mud:
Waterlogged Marines Join U.N.'s Operation Killer," Life, 12 March 1951, p.
39. The writer of a letter published in The New York Times noted that he had
seen "frequent references in the newspapers, including The Times, to
`Operation Killer'"; see Hugh Gallaher, letter to the editor, printed as
"Military Designation Criticized," The New York Times, 6 March 1951, p. 26.

54. The words are Ridgway's, paraphrasing Collins; see Ridgway, p. 110.

55. Gallaher; Jacob Herzfeld, letter to the editor, 28 February 1951,
printed as "Korea's Holocaust," The New York Times, 3 March 1951, p. 12.

56. "Union Gains Cited by Harry Bridges," The New York Times, 3 April 1951,
p. 55.

57. Ridgway, p. 110.

58. Harry G. Summers, Korean War Almanac (New York: Facts on File, 1990), p.
156.

59. Ridgway, p. 110.

60. Ibid., p. 111.

61. Gregory R. Clark, Words of the Vietnam War: The Slang, Jargon, etc.
(Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 1990), p. 365.

62. Ibid, pp. 369, 379.

63. Shelby L. Stanton, Anatomy of a Division: The 1st Cavalry in Vietnam
(Novato, Calif.: Presidio Press, 1987), p. 70.

64. Clark, p. 374.

65. Daniel C. Hallin, The "Uncensored War": The Media and Vietnam (New York:
Oxford Univ. Press, 1986), p. 145; see also the series of stories in The New
York Times written by R. W. Apple, Jr., which appeared 28 January (p. 12),
31 January (p. 12), 2 February (p. 15), and 3 February (p. 15) 1966.

66. Stanton, p. 72.

67. William C. Westmoreland, A Soldier Reports (Garden City, N.Y.:
Doubleday, 1976), p. 164.

68. Ibid.; Stanton, p. 72.

69. Westmoreland, p. 164.

70. For a comprehensive listing of operation names used during the Vietnam
War, see Clark, pp. 363-83.

71. Westmoreland, p. 164.

72. "DoD Information Security Program," DOD Directive 5200.1, 1 June 1972;
reprinted in Federal Register, 3 August 1972, Vol. 37, No. 150, pp.
15655-15686. The guidelines concerning nicknames which appear on page 15685
do not appear in the previous version of DOD Directive 5200.1, entitled
"Safeguarding Official Information in the Interests of the Defense of the
United States," 8 July 1957; rpt. in US Dept. of Defense, Implementation of
Recommendations of Coolidge Committee on Classified Information (Washington:
July 1957), Pt. 2, App. 4, Encl. 1, p. 1.

73. The same guidelines appear in the newest version of this regulation: US
Dept. of Defense, Information Security Program Regulation, 5200.1-R
(Washington: June 1986), p. C-2.

74. Ibid.

75. Ibid., pp. C-1 to C-3.

76. US Dept. of Defense, Code Name, Nickname, and Exercise Term (NICKA)
WWMCCS System: Project Manual (Washington: 20 February 1975), p. 1.

77. US Dept. of Defense, Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Reporting Structure:
Vol. II, Joint Reports: Part 14, General Use/Miscellaneous: Chapter 4, Code
Word, Nickname, and Exercise Term Report, Change 11, JCS Pub 1-03.19
(Washington: 13 March 1990), p. 14-4-9.

78. Ibid., p. 14-4-6.

79. Ibid., pp. 14-4-14 and 14-4-16.

80. The one exception to the poorly named operations of the period was
Operation Eagle Claw, the effort to free US hostages held in Iran. But the
name never gained currency because the mission was aborted. Instead, the
mission has become known as the "Iranian hostage rescue attempt" or simply
as Desert One, the designation of the staging area where the mission was
scrubbed.

81. David Hoffman and Fred Hiatt, "Weinberger Says U.S. May Stay for Weeks,"
The Washington Post, 4 November 1983, p. B2.

82. Representative Byron raised this criticism in a congressional
post-mortem of Urgent Fury when she questioned whether the military hadn't
"[gone] to overkill" in the operation; see US Congress, House, Committee on
the Armed Services, Lessons Learned as a Result of the U.S. Military
Operations in Grenada, Hearings (Washington: GPO, 1984), p. 45.

83. William S. Lind, quoted in Robert J. Beck, The Grenada Invasion:
Politics, Law, and Foreign Policy Decisionmaking (Boulder, Colo.: Westview
Press, 1993), p. 17.

84. Jack Eisen, "`Lede of the Week' Award," The Washington Post, 4 November
1983, p. B2.

85. Marc D. Felman, The Military/Media Clash and the New Principle of War:
Media Spin (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air Univ. Press, June 1993), p. 15.

86. Hiebert, p. 32.

87. Christina Jacqueline Johns and P. Ward Johnson, State Crime, the Media,
and the Invasion of Panama (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1994), p. 64.

88. See Houston Post editorial, 21 December 1989; rpt. in Editorials on File
(16-31 December 1989), Vol. 20, No. 24, p. 1487; and Daily Oklahoman
editorial, 22 December 1989; rpt. in the same edition of Editorials on File,
p. 1483.

89. "Operation High Hokum," The New York Times, 23 December 1989, p. 30.

90. Johns and Johnson, p. 64.

91. Jonathan Alter et al., "The Propaganda War," Newsweek, 25 February 1991,
p. 38.

92. See for example: McClain and Levin, pp. 6-15; Felman; Brent Baker,
"Desert Shield/Storm: The War of Words and Images," Naval War College
Review, 44 (Autumn 1991), 59-65; William M. Hammond, "The Army and Public
Affairs: Enduring Principles," Parameters, 19 (June 1989), 57-74.

93. A LEXIS/NEXIS word search of major newspapers and magazines for the
three-year period January 1990 to December 1994 revealed that the name
"Desert Storm" appeared in 8276 newspaper and 4466 magazine articles, while
the name "Gulf War"--or a variant, like "Persian Gulf War"--appeared in
86,652 newspaper and 13,642 magazine articles. Clearly Gulf War and its
variants are more popular than Desert Storm, but the frequency with which
Desert Storm appears (roughly 10 percent of the newspaper citations and
one-third of the magazine articles) is significant.

94. "Military Makes Every Word Count, Picking Code Names, Like Desert
Shield, A Matter of Pride," Orlando Sentinel Tribune, 19 August 1990, p.
A17.

95. H. Norman Schwarzkopf and Peter Petre, It Doesn't Take a Hero (New York:
Bantam Books, 1992), p. 309.

96. Telephone conversation with Dr. Ronald Cole, Historian, Joint Office of
History, Office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Washington, D.C., 12 January
1995.

97. Like the first two letters of "peninsula," the first two letters of
"desert" do not fall into the alphabetic sequences assigned to CENTCOM.

98. Schwarzkopf, pp. 309-10.

99. On the CINC's personal role in naming Desert Storm, see Schwarzkopf, p.
320.

100. "Words of War," The Nation, 12 August 1991, p. 177.

101. Instant Thunder was a deliberate allusion to Rolling Thunder, the name
of the two-and-one-half-year bombing operation over North Vietnam, which
many Air Force officers believed failed because of its gradual strategy. See
Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf War (Boston:
Houghton Mifflin, 1993), p. 59. Instant Thunder seems to be the first
instance where a nickname purposefully (and critically) alluded to a
previously named operation.

102. Schwarzkopf, p. 413.

103. Joshua Hammer et al., "You Must Be the Thunder and the Lightning,"
Newsweek, 28 January 1991, p. 31.

104. Donna Miles and Patrick Swan, "What's in a Name?" Soldiers, February
1992, p. 40.

105. McClain and Levin, p. 11.

106. Miles and Swan, p. 48.

107. Doyle et al., p. 2.

Lieutenant Colonel Gregory C. Sieminski, USA, is a 1995 graduate of the
Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, whose next assignment is at
Headquarters, Allied Forces Central Europe (AFCENT), the Netherlands. A
military intelligence officer, he has held a variety of intelligence command
and staff positions in Panama, Hawaii, and the United States. From 1987 to
1991 he taught at the US Military Academy in the Department of English. This
article is a derivative of his student paper which won the Naval War College
President's Essay Competition for 1994-95.

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