Remembering Tim Maude, the “HR” Hero Who Died at His Pentagon Post - September 11, 2001

"Hi, I'm Tim Maude and I'm a U.S. Army soldier."

That’s how 35-year veteran and head of Army human resources Lt. General Timothy J. Maude began every speech, always stressing his common bond with the ordinary soldier. That bond became fixed on September 11, 2001, when Tim, 53, became the first and only US general killed-in-action in this century, the highest-ranking officer lost since World War II, and first to die on sovereign American soil since Custer at Little Big Horn. He is the top “fallen star” lost so far in the Global War on Terrorism. He died instantly at “Ground Zero” at the Pentagon while conducting a routine staff meeting in his office with top five aides. Also killed with him was Sergeant Major Larry Strickland the personnel department’s senior NCO and a soldier with almost 40 years of service.

There are several professional avenues to high command in the US Army. Tim Maude’s path is not among them. A one-time aspirant of the priesthood, the 19-year old kid from Indianapolis enlisted in 1967 just ahead of his draft notice and was commissioned out of OCS into the Adjutant General Corps, the branch responsible for administrative matters and one of the first established in the Continental Army in 1775. Tim served in Vietnam at an infantry brigade HQ running the mail – ask any vet who’s the most important guy at headquarters. Then he decided to remain in the Army, rising a quarter century later to Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel or, G-1, the top HR job in the US Army in August 2000. Tim Maude, who began his military career as a private and once considered the priesthood, received a third star - a rank usually reserved for combat generals and described by his wife as a “miracle.”

Think of Tim’s job in business terms. He was the top human resources officer of one of the largest organizations in the world, employing more than 650,000 people, “hiring” close to 80,000 new people every year, and administering thousands of medical, educational, counseling, and other benefit programs and services, while subject to a huge number of rules, regulations, and reporting responsibilities. Managing a budget of $25 billion, with a large advertising and public relations commitment, Tim faced the dawn of a new century with serious problems.

 

In a period of general global peace - the long-heralded Pax Americana – recruitment and retention were critical and under pressure. It had become increasingly difficult throughout the 1990’s to attract qualified, technically-competent people. The earlier advertising message, “be all that you can be” had gradually lost its appeal, as both the traditional and “new economy” (what they called social media just a decade ago) offered ever expanding opportunities for America’s young people. In response, Maude’s team crafted the very successful “Army of One" recruiting campaign in early 2001 and by September the recruiting goals for the year had already been achieved.

Army Chief of Staff General Eric K. Shinseki had been very supportive of Maude’s other initiatives, including more investment in the Internet, and the addition of the beret to the regular uniform to bolster esprit d’corps. Tim also won high praise from diverse (and often conflicting) groups for the sensitive way he handled the difficult assignment to make sure the "don't ask, don't tell" policy on gays in the military was implemented justly. That seems all the more insightful based on recent political and legal developments.

By the turn of the century, Tim had reached the pinnacle of his profession. His place as a competent general officer in his beloved US Army would have been secure. Destiny, however, had prepared an even more “noteworthy” place in the history books. At 9:28 A.M. on that clear, September Tuesday morning, he was at his desk in the Pentagon doing his job when that part of the building became a flaming battlefield.

Whatever else may be said, the coordinated September 11 surprise attacks on the homeland were among the most successful ever conducted by our enemies. We should never forget that, or underestimate them again. Any strategic concept that is founded on the idea that global Jihadism is a passing phase is folly. It will be a permanent element of all long-range planning from now on. As a purely military operation the 9/11 attacks were a textbook example of the staggering potential of asymmetrical tactics employed against an overwhelmingly superior, but conventionally-armed, organized, and oriented opponent. The selection of targets that day – global economic icons, national military command center, and defining political symbol – favored the technology, weapons and strategic goals of the Sunni Al Qaeda terrorists. Soft, symbolic, and difficult to protect. Only the bravery of the instant soldiers on United Flight #93 prevented the blow against the last target that day, an attack on the US Capitol or White House.

At the Pentagon, dozens of people, including those in Tim Maude’s meeting, died instantly at their posts. Many others were wounded or missing. In the days afterward, the smooth machinery of succession was engaged, a credit to the personnel practices of a strong, war-tested organization and its dedicated professional leadership. Tim’s staff moved to the Hoffman Complex in Alexandria under the deputy G-1 who survived. The enemy caused pain but did no lasting damage to America’s military or political strength. That became apparent almost immediately in Afghanistan where horse-borne Special Forces operatives were soon on the ground helping the warlords topple Mullah Omar’s regime. We struck back quickly and have inflicted grievous harm on our enemies, including the death of the Al Qaeda leader, and we continue to strike them and their allies every day. A large part of the legacy of Tim Maude was the readiness, quality, and professional performance of the US Army that went to war on 9/11 and has carried the battle since under our all-volunteer model.

After Tim’s remains were recovered, he was buried at Arlington, his grave carrying the legend, “He Took Care of Soldiers.” The team was remembered in various ways. Buildings where they served and their favorite programs were renamed in their honor. But the important inspiration and lessons to be drawn from the death of this latest “fallen star” are not in the statistics, or in a sentimental recollection. It is not a story of heroic death in battle, but is more personal, and perhaps more directly relevant to the special nature of the current war than any of the almost 225 fallen general officer stories in our history.

The long war against global Islamic Jihadism is different in at least one fundamental respect from all previous American experience, except the Barbary Wars of the early 19^th century. In those cases, the ideology of our enemies defines every one of us as a target blessed by Allah; anyone can be sitting at his desk in a routine staff meeting, or on an airplane, in a school, at a wedding, in a subway - or watching a marathon - and suddenly find herself an instant soldier on a battlefield. Also a crime scene, but mainly a battlefield. Some are fated to suffer or die. Some must flee and some become instant battlefield responders, but those whose job it is to face those enemies every day, quietly and steadily, are heroes no matter how they fall. That’s exactly what happened to Lieutenant General Timothy J. Maude and all the many thousands of soldiers, sailors, police, firemen, and our ordinary fellow citizens, who fell on September 11 and since.