A Rapidly Changing Operational Environment:

Spring 2026 A Rapidly Changing Operational Environment: Cavalry Scouts Need to be Painfully Light and Disproportionately Lethal by SSG Matthew Watson A nalysis from the Russo-Ukrainian War and observa tions from our own Combat Training Centers (CTCs) have painted an undeniable and sobering picture of the modern battlefield. The findings in the “FY24 CTC Trends” and the “RUS-UKR War Informed Sprint Team Report” are not abstract future concepts; they are current, lethal real ities. Data indicates the sensor-to-shooter link, once a matter of hours, has been compressed to single digit minutes.1,2 At the same time, multiple Center for Army Lessons Learned (CALL) publications on command post survivability indicate that even well-re hearsed battalion headquarters are be ing detected and notionally destroyed within the first 24-48 hours of an op eration. As the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA) report “An Ur gent Matter of Drones” makes clear, this destruction is primarily driven by the pervasive and difficult to counter threat of unmanned aerial systems

(UAS).3

For a Staff Sergeant, like me, leading a Cavalry Scout section, we cannot afford to think of these as abstract data points. It is my opinion that these are a direct threat to the survival of my Soldiers and the viability of our mis sion, a threat made tangible during my time in Europe from 2018-2022. I had a front row seat to this evolving oper ational environment both before, dur ing, and after the Russo-Ukrainian War. From Private to Sergeant, I was em ersed in this mission and was fortunate enough to learn from my non-commis sioned officers (NCOs) and officers dur ing the most malleable part of my ca reer. As leaders in 2d Cavalry Regiment (2CR) adjusted our training and equip ment such as the Dragoon for a largescale combat operation (LSCO) orient ed style of warfighting, I understood that what I learned in One-Station Unit Training (OSUT) had prepared me for the last war and equipped me with few tools for the war to come. As my leadership developed me from junior enlisted to junior NCO the back ground of this development would be like everyone’s in 2CR. Taking part in several multinational exercises, includ ing Arrow 19 in the Russian bordering country of Finland, to Noble Partner 20 executed in the former Soviet country of Georgia. The proximity to our near-peer adversaries and emerging threats were made extremely clear to me a day after joining the corps of NonCommissioned Officers. During Noble Partner 19, our squadron overcame unexpected adversity regarding a fail ure of sustainment. The fuel we re quired to conduct the 8-hour convoy to Vaziani military base did not arrive on time leaving our entire squadron immobile in the capital of Tbilisi. Over the next few days while our leadership moved mountains to get us the fuel needed, we took the unexpected time to conduct rehearsals and “hip-pocket classes”. In typical team leader fashion, we ran our men through rehearsal of concept (ROC) drills, standard operat ing procedure (SOP), tactics, tech niques and procedures (TTP), and bat tle drills, and the typical sergeants time training such as tactical combat casualty care, dead gunner drills,

U.S. Army photo by SGT Hunter Xue

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49 rollover drills, call for fire, observation post selection, and reports. Little did we know these rehearsals would be rendered ineffective training scars days after we had conducted them. After the fuel was secured and the convoy completed it became clear we needed to reframe sustainment in modern warfare, however, what would soon become clear; sustainment is not the only aspect we needed to take a seri ous look at. I vividly remember passing quarry’s be ing operated by Chinese mining com panies and former Soviet refineries still adorning the Hammer and Sycle on their smokestacks during our convoy. I thought, like many of my teammates, how bizarre it was to see the shadows of the defunct Soviet Union. When we drove through the city of Gori, still re covering from the Russian occupation, it was impossible not to think about the outcome of failed sustainment. In a pivotal moment of the 2008 Russo-Georgian war, after cluster bombing the city, Russian armored columns ma neuvered uncontested down the E90 highway and captured the city as well as a plethora of military equipment in cluding sixty-five T-72s, fifteen infantry fighting vehicles (IFVs) and dozens of armored personnel carriers (APCs) all abandoned because of what can only be described as a masterclass on Rus sian logistical strangulation. A very so bering reminder of what happens when you are ill-equipped to sustain a fight. No army is immune to the com plications of sustainment. The implication of the unexpected dif ficulties in our sustainment was not lost on anyone. The realization of ex actly how devastating our Global War on Terror (GWOT) frame of viewing armed conflict was, was emphasized further just a few days later with the breakout of the Armenia-Azerbaijan war. With both countries’ borders less than thirty miles away, our exercise quickly became the second thing ev eryone was thinking about. As the war developed and regional powers be came drawn in, the feeling of being un prepared for this style of conflict kept my section leaders up at night. It be came clear that Azerbaijani forces, equipped with a clear overmatch in technological assets including both Turkish and Israeli made UAS, were making quick work of Armenian ar mored units, defensive positions, and airspace. This brand of combined arms and maneuver was something we had not considered while creating the op posing force (OPFOR) for our own training. Our focus was centered around defeating armored threats with man-portable air-defense systems (MANPADS) and counter-improvised explosive devices (IEDs). These lessons felt immediate and personal. We had spent countless hours training for the wrong fight. Now more than ever with the Russo-Ukraine war we are all vulnerable to the same mistake. The traditional methods of reconnaissance relying on layered concealment and the relative safety of standoff are evaporating in the face of this unprecedented battle field transparency. We are now forced to confront a fundamental paradox: to survive, we must become “painfully light,” shedding every possible signa ture to retain freedom of maneuver. Yet, to be effective, we must be Figure 1. A cavalry scout assigned to 4th Squadron, 10th Cavalry Regiment, 3rd Armored Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division, lies prone and aims his weapon while pulling security on Fort Carson, Colorado, Jan. 27, 2026. (U.S. Army photo by PFC Thomas Nguyen)

Spring 2026 “disproportionately lethal,” capable of delivering a decisive blow to shape the battlefield. This is the new reality, and it demands a revolution in how we lead our sections. Sensor-to-Shooter The hyper-saturation of sensors may be the single largest change in our op erational environment (OE). The mod ern battlefield is akin to a glass house, and we are still learning how to live in side it. It is no longer a matter of avoid ing a roving enemy patrol, listening for the rumble of approaching armor, or relying on proven sustainment means such as air resupply in austere environ ments. Scouts are being perpetually hunted by a layered “system of sys tems,” an adversary concept that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and Russia have operationalized with frightening efficiency. This system in tegrates every method of detection imaginable, but its most ubiquitous and revolutionary component is the drone. Drones have democratized airpower. The sky is no longer the exclusive do main of billion-dollar aircraft. It is now crowded with a dizzying array of UAS, widely available and often so intuitive to fly that they require no training. These drones can be broadly catego rized into three nightmarish groups. First are the reconnaissance drones, the ever-present eyes that loiter for hours, using high-definition optics and thermal cameras to scan every wood line, every depression, every shadow. These platforms feed a constant stream of intelligence to enemy com mand posts, painting a bird’s eye view of the battlefield that makes a mock ery of traditional camouflage the dis mounted scout has comfortably relied on in. Second, are the first-person view (FPV) “kamikaze” drones. These are small, fast, and agile quadcopters, of ten assembled from commercial parts, with an explosive charge strapped to them. Guided by an operator wearing FPV goggles, they can fly through open hatches, into fighting positions, and strike with unnerving precision. The pi lot no longer needs to be geographi cally separated from the battle space there by shorting the kill chain. They are the snipers of the sky, capable of picking off individual Soldiers, high val ue targets like artillery, and vehicles while simultaneously acting as a recon naissance asset and sensor. Perhaps the most cost-efficient force multiplier ever introduced. Finally, there are the bomber drones, often larger platforms that can drop mortar rounds or gre nades with pinpoint accuracy onto po sitions that were once considered far enough off the forward line of own troops (FLOT) or concealed enough to be relatively safe. An often-overlooked topic, inseparably linked to this emerging OE, is the cu mulative effect of this constant, multi layered aerial surveillance is profound ly psychological. Interviews conducted by the United States Army Transforma tion and Training Command (T2COM) G2 indicate it induces a state of para noia and exhaustion in even the most seasoned Soldiers. The lessons from Operation Atlantic Resolve bear this out; units operating in proximity to the Kaliningrad Oblast or Belarusian bor der are acutely aware of this constant potential for observation. There is no longer a “safe” rear area. Every mo ment from resupply operations to ve hicle maintenance to a Soldier step ping out for a moment of rest is poten tially a moment of discovery. This is not just a tactical problem; it is a hu man one. As a leader, section leaders Figure 2. The 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment facilitate a drone swarm of 40 drones during the battle of Razish, National Training Center on May 8th, 2019. (U.S. Army Photo by PV2 James Newsome)

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51 are now likely responsible for manag ing their Soldiers’ cognitive load, a load that has been massively increased by the simple knowledge that they are al ways being watched. This constant stress degrades decision making, frays tempers, and erodes the very cohesion a unit needs to survive in combat. Due to the comparatively small size of cav alry teams and sections this effect has the potential to disproportionately im pact Armor branch specifically cavalry elements section sized and below. The age-old need for enforcement of disci pline, coupled with the section ser geants’ watchful eye for complacency, has perhaps never been so apparent. The result is a battlefield where the front line is not a geographic location, but a state of being. The front line is wherever a sensor can see you. Our training is yet to reflect this truth. This new reality threatens to exploit the decades of combat experience the Armor Branch has incurred during the global war on terror. Once our greatest strength, this experience now has the frightening potential to be our great est weakness. Years of TTPs, training, and combat experience combined with a “we have always done it this way” mind set have the potential to trans form into training scars. We are all sus ceptible to this truth. Now more than ever leaders at the lowest levels need to be able to ask themselves why they train the way they do and if that an swer holds up under these emerging threat environments. That perfect, covered and concealed observation post we have all spent years identify ing and occupying? A thermal camera sees right through the foliage, picking up the heat signature from the Brad ley’s engine, which was shut down an hour ago. That secure command post we thought was safe, five kilometers behind the line of contact? It just gave away our position with a single, high-power radio transmission, and a swarm of FPV drones is now on its way. The infrared (IR) buzzsaw that was templat ed as near side recognition for the rearward passage of lines (RPOL)? Queued the enemy to launch indirect fires during the most vulnerable part of the RPOL. This is the essence of bat tlefield transparency. It is the end of sanctuary. It forces us to accept a new, uncomfortable truth: we can no longer rely on traditional cover and conceal ment, we must consider all forms of contact down to the lowest level. We must blend into the background noise of the battlefield, a task that demands a radical reinvention of our tactics, techniques, and procedures. Balancing Signature Management with the Fundamentals of Reconnaissance In an operational environment against our peer-to-peer adversaries, Cavalry scouts’ survival hinges on communica tion. Crypto fill and Cypher might be enough to stop our adversaries from listing to what our scouts are report ing, however the electronic signature of a radio is enough to get our sections killed. It requires a fanatical, section-wide devotion to signature manage ment (SIGMAN), a discipline that must now be treated with the same rever ence as marksmanship or land naviga tion. No longer is SIGMAN primarily a Signal corps responsibility. The section leader will soon find himself responsi ble for engraining that in his elements. SIGMAN is the art and science of blending in, and it must be practiced across every domain. Visual and thermal signatures are the most obvious. Our vehicles, especially the Bradley Fighting Vehicle (BFV), are massive heat signatures. Even after shutdown, they radiate heat for hours, appearing as glowing beacons to ene my thermal optics. Traditionally we have focused only on visual camou flage. We must become masters of thermal discipline, understand the thermal properties of the terrain and use it to our advantage at the lowest level. This means seeking out areas with high thermal clutter, like dense urban areas or rocky terrain, to mask our signature. It means understanding the science of cooldown times and planning our movements and halts ac cordingly. It requires us to use special ized thermal blankets not just covering our vehicles with camo net and foliage, but to create thermal decoys, false heat signatures that draw the enemy’s attention and munitions away from our actual positions. This all may seem ob vious, but you may be surprised to learn that currently, 19D Cavalry Scout, 19C Bradley Crewman and 19K Ar mored Crewman at OSUT, all have a lesson teaching camouflage of a vehi cle. Across all three lesson plans the word decoy is only mentioned once. Other than putting a camo net on a ve hicle and understanding that snow will impact a thermal no thermal masking techniques are mentioned or taught. This is a frightening realization when you consider the vast majority of OSUT graduates will fill the driver position as their first role after graduating. This would be less of an issue if it was cov ered in Advanced Leader Course (ALC), however, it is not. The lesson plan is not the problem; it is the example. The mindset is the problem. All Staff Sergeants and above in the Ar mor branch have one thing in common. We have all trained to the point of muscle memory. Knowing this, we need to actively seek out things like camouflage a vehicle and make efforts to change them. The most basic TTPs are going to be the ones that get our sections killed, never stop asking why do it this way? Questions that were easy answers can get complex when you take the time to deliberately think about them. Serving as a OSUT Instruc tor I have become all too familiar with the “Private questions”. Increasingly often I find these questions that once were an easy answer, something re quiring some serious thought. . Ques tions like, does it still make sense for a patrol base to be a triangle? A trainee asked me that very simple question a year ago and I still have not come to a conclusion. SIGMAN is more than just BLUES, and we will fail if we are not ex tremely critical of our own TTPs at the section level. [Editor’s Note: BLUES is a Cavalry acronym for: Blend in with the surrounding area. Low to the ground. Unexpected sites should be used. Evac uation routes planned during site se lection. Silhouetting should always be avoided.] The electromagnetic spectrum (EMS) is likely the greatest challenge. Every device we carry, from our tactical radi os to our Joint Battle Command-Plat form (JBC-P) and blue force tracking (BFT) systems, are a beacon screaming, “Here I am!” Our doctrine has become incredibly reliant on a constant flow of digital information, but this

Spring 2026 connectivity is a double-edged sword. As observed in numerous CTC rotations and exercises under Atlantic Resolve, our adversaries are adept at electronic warfare (EW). They can detect, direc tion-find, and target our transmissions at frightening speed. Leading a scout section now means being an amateur network administrator, constantly weighing the need for situational awareness against the risk of electron ic detection. It means abandoning the practice of continuous broadcasting and embracing “pulse” communica tions, short, data dense transmissions followed by long periods of radio si lence. It means using the radio when we must, not when we want to. Every scout platoon in the Army has signal flags collecting dust in a container ex press (CONNEX) right now. Imagine how big of a signature your section gives off while reporting readiness condition (REDCON) status and start point (SP). We have the solution; it just takes some inward reflection to decide to implement. Electronic detection de mands that we become experts in di rectional antennas, meticulously ori enting them to minimize our electron ic signature. Most importantly, it means being prepared to fight with far less reliance on receiving information on the radio. Every scout must have a complete understanding of the com mander’s intent, the mission’s objec tives, and the plan for degraded oper ations. We must rigorously train with analog navigation, runners, and disci plined reporting methods because it is not a question of if our digital systems will fail, but when. This leads to, in my opinion, the most counter intuitive aspect of SIGMAN: dispersion. The “TDF CP Survivability” handbook’s emphasis on dispersion is a lesson written in blood.4 A clustered section is a lucrative target, one that an enemy commander is willing to ex pend significant resources to destroy. To survive, we must break apart. Three BFVs cannot be within sight of each other. Dismounted teams must oper ate in buddy pairs, separated by hun dreds of meters. We must think, not as a single section, but as a constellation of independent, mutually supporting nodes. This radical dispersion will cre ate significant challenges for command and control, logistics, and mutual se curity. It stretches the capabilities of our radios and makes resupply harder. The answer is rehearsals. If we change our most basic of section TTPs, we can adapt. The alternative is annihilation. As section leaders, our role shifts from directly controlling teams to orches trating them. We can provide the in tent, the boundaries, and the objec tives, but we must trust our team lead ers to execute with minimal communi cation. The NCO Corps is routed in de centralized command; empowering subordinate leaders is the only way forward. It requires a level of trust, training, and initiative that our Army has long preached, but seldom prac ticed to this extreme. The combination of obsessive SIGMAN, radical disper sion, and disciplined mobility are the ingredients of a technically and tacti cally proficient scout section. If we do not think our sections can do this, we all need to take a long look at why. The Disproportionate Punch: From Eyes and Ears to Claws and Fangs Survival is the prerequisite, but it is not the mission. A scout section that only hides is not a reconnaissance asset; it is a liability. If we cannot gather and re port information and enable informed decision making, we are wrong. In this new environment, where finding the enemy is synonymous with being found, we can no longer be passive ob servers. The scout section must be dis proportionately lethal. We must be able to deliver a blow so swift and vio lent that it neutralizes the immediate threat and creates an opportunity for Figure 3. Cavalry Scouts recover casualties in their Bradley Fighting Vehicle after encountering an ambush from the nearby hillside during a training exercise at Twin Bridges training area, South Korea, Dec. 8, 2015. (U.S. Army photo by SSG John Healy)

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53 us to displace, while being light enough to retain the freedom of maneuver. This lethality must first be organic. The days of a scout section defending itself with only machine guns and wishful thinking are over. We must be armed with systems that allow every scout to punch like a heavyweight. The prolifer ation of advanced anti-tank guided missiles (ATGMs) is only the tip of the iceberg. Every scout vehicle and dis mount team should be equipped with systems like the Javelin, giving them the ability to destroy main battle tanks from kilometers away. But the true rev olution lies in arming our sections with loitering munitions. The ability for a two-man scout team, hidden in a base ment or a ditch, to launch a small, man-portable drone, identify an ene my air defense system or command ve hicle, and destroy it with a self-con tained warhead is a fundamental game changer. It transforms every scout from a simple reporter into a precision strike asset capable of forcing the enemy to make high stakes decisions under pres sure. We cannot wait for this technol ogy to be perfected; we must demand it, train with it, and integrate it into our TTPs now. Furthermore, we cannot just hide from drones; we must have the ability to fight back. Waiting for air de fense assets not indigenous to your section to protect your people is a rec ipe for disaster. We need an organic counter-UAS (CUAS) capability. This could take multiple forms: compact electronic jammers that can sever the link between a drone and its operator, directional energy systems, or even specialized airburst munitions for our 25mm cannons. A scout section that can create its own protective bubble, blinding or destroying enemy drones in its immediate vicinity, regains its free dom of maneuver. It can move, ob serve, and report without the fear of being fixed by enemy UAS. The second, and ultimately more pow erful, form of our lethality is net worked. Our most powerful weapon is not the cannon on our BFV; it is the network we use to bring the full might of the combined arms team to the en emy. A scout section that can provide a real time, targetable, quality location of an enemy artillery battery to a Guid ed Multiple Launch Rocket System (GMLRS) battalion influences the bat tlefield that is wildly disproportionate to its size. A scout team can accomplish this if equipped with small UAS (sUAS). This must be our asymmetrical advan tage. It requires a new level of techni cal mastery from our Soldiers. They must be experts not just in vehicle identification, but in digital targeting systems, laser designation, and capa bilities of indirect fire assets at their disposal. Our next fight will likely be alongside our NATO allies. Can my scout team pass a target to a Polish ar tillery battery? Can I talk to a German Tiger helicopter? Can I tell the differ ence between a friendly Finnish BMP and an enemy? As a section leader, we must now ensure our Soldiers are flu ent in language of joint fires, capable of navigating different systems, data formats, and rules of engagement. We are no longer just the “eyes and ears of the commander”; we are the trigger finger of the entire combined arms team. Leading in the Crucible Our job as section leaders has become one of managing constant, multi-do main risks. We are no longer just tacti cians; we are signature managers, joint fires experts, network administrators, and drone operators, all while trying to keep our Soldiers alive under the most intense pressure imaginable. This re quires a fundamental shift in how we think about leadership and expertise within the reconnaissance community. Our training must undergo a violent evolution. The scripted, linear lanes of our CTCs, while valuable for validating basic competencies, are insufficient for preparing us for this environment. We need force-on-force training where a thinking, unrestricted OPFOR is equipped with the same UAS, EW, and precision fire capabilities that our ad versaries possess. Units should be graded not just on whether they found the enemy, but on their signature, and how many times they were detected electronically. Training must induce communications failure and force lead ers to operate under these conditions for an extended period. We must empower our team leaders and Soldiers to a degree that is uncomfortable for our current institu tional culture. With our section dis persed over kilometers of terrain and operating under strict emissions con trol (EMCON), we cannot microman age. We must trust that our team lead ers, understand the commander’s in tent and can make life-or-death deci sions on their own. Our primary job is no longer directing their move but training them to operate in our ab sence. We must give them the tools, the authority, and, most importantly, the trust to execute the mission when they are alone and being hunted. We must shed the old, comfortable ideas of what it means to be a recon naissance element. We must embrace the paradox of being painfully light and disproportionately lethal. Staff Sergeant Matthew Joseph Wat son serves as the Quality Assurance Of ficer for the 5-15 Cavalry Squadron, 194th AR Brigade at Fort Benning, GA. His previous positions include Quality Assurance Officer, Excellence in Armor Manager, Operational Environment In tegration NCOIC, Senior Instructor, and Section Leader. His military education includes 19D OSUT at Fort Benning, GA; Basic Leadership Course at Camp Vilseck, Germany; Cadre Training Course at Fort Benning, GA; Common Faculty Development Instructor Course at Fort Benning, GA; and Faculty Devel opment Course at Fort Benning, GA. He is currently working on the develop ment and accreditation of the Program of Instruction (POI) for 19D OSUT.