(2 of 4)
Most of the straight talk takes place daily in Schwarzkopf's war room in his Riyadh compound. Having designed his battle plans with the help of top alliance commanders, the general delegates day-to-day operations to his flag officers. He is not a micromanager but a resolute overseer, who runs his campaign 18 hours a day. "I started out with what I thought was going to be a very orderly schedule," he says. "A 7 a.m. staff briefing, a 10 a.m. coalition briefing, then a 7 p.m. briefing with the component commanders. Boy, it looked like it was great. But I've got to tell you, more often than not the 7 a.m. meeting has not come off because everybody has been up so late at night."
His colleagues find it easy to forgive him. "Initially," says a British commander, "we were taken aback by his gung-ho appearance, but in a very short time we came to realize that here was a highly intelligent soldier -- a skilled planner, administrator and battlefield commander."
That judgment comes as no surprise to Schwarzkopf's old friends, who regard him with unalloyed admiration if not outright idolatry. Retired Army General Ward LeHardy, who was Schwarzkopf's West Point roommate, insists that "Norm is this generation's Doug MacArthur. He's got the tactical brilliance of Patton, the strategic insight of Eisenhower and the modesty of Bradley."
Many people might quarrel with the modesty part. Schwarzkopf can be charming, but he also possesses the ego -- and petulance -- of a field marshal. He has been known to pore over his press clippings, underlining criticisms or perceived slights and flogging memos about them to his subordinates. He has epic temper tantrums. When these erupt, says a senior Joint Chiefs of Staff officer, he starts "yelling and cursing and throwing things." What is most striking about Schwarzkopf, however, is his abiding certitude, a bristling self-assurance, the kind that many Army brats acquire with their first pair of long pants.
Schwarzkopf's father H. Norman Sr. was also a West Pointer who became a general. At one stage in his career, Norm Sr. left the Army to enter civic life. As head of the New Jersey state police, he led the investigation of the sensational Lindbergh baby kidnapping. For a time, he was a radio star, narrating a shoot-'em-up crime series.
At the outbreak of World War II, he rejoined the Army. From 1942 to '48, he led a mission to Iran, where he organized the nation's imperial police force. According to some historians, he returned to Tehran in 1953 to play a key role in the CIA operation that overthrew nationalist Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh and installed the Shah of Iran.
Norm Jr., who was born in Trenton, began looking to his father's stars at an early age. When photos were taken for the yearbook at Bordentown Military Institute, near Trenton, 10-year-old cadet Norman posed for two pictures, one smiling, the other grim-faced. His mother preferred the smiling version, but little Norm hung tough. "Someday," he explained, "when I become a general, I want people to know that I'm serious." He wasn't kidding.
His first overseas posting, at 12, was to Tehran with his father, and the exposure to the exotic ways of the Middle East was to have a lasting impact on his sensibilities. After a year, he was packed off to European schools, where he learned German and French and dreamed all the while of a military career.