The Gates Keeper

Gates is not the sort to directly or loudly confront the unreconstructed Army brass, no more so than Cheney's office. But the meaning was not lost on anyone when Gen. David Petraeus was brought back from Iraq to preside over a promotions board choosing the next crop of generals. In addition to commanding forces in Iraq, Petraeus is the chief architect of the Army's new approach to counterinsurgency. It is widely believed that he was brought home with Gates's approval to make sure the traditionalists did not pass over the bright young commanders who showed flair in Iraq.

Unlike Rumsfeld, Gates almost never raises his voice or uses sharp invective. He expresses anger by growing silent. When the Army hierarchy seemed to brush off press reports of poor conditions at Walter Reed Army Hospital last winter, Gates grew "very, very quiet," says an aide who wished to remain anonymous discussing his boss's moods. The secretary of the Army, Francis Harvey, was forced to resign within two weeks.

Gates is an old cold warrior—he joined the CIA in 1966. He is a believer in containment, in waiting out the adversary with vigilance and deterring him with the threat of force. He wants to build a sustainable long-term policy in Iraq that is agreeable to Democrats and Republicans alike—slowly drawing down troops but maintaining a long-term presence. He also believes any policy must have support on Capitol Hill. It was little noticed at the time, but at his confirmation hearings earlier this year, he said that he did not think the president had the authority to go to war against Iran using previous congressional resolutions.

Gates admires Gen. George C. Marshall, the taciturn, self-effacing (but steely) Army chief of staff in World War II and later secretary of State and secretary of Defense in the early cold war. Lately Gates has been telling his friends and colleagues to read "Partners in Command," about Marshall and Dwight Eisenhower. Gates was a 27-year career civil servant, the only entry-level CIA employee ever to become director of Central Intelligence. But he has no Potomac fever: he has been known to carry a pebble in his pocket from his family home in the state of Washington, a reminder of where he will go when his last tour in the capital is over. Gates, 64, scoffed at a recent article in The Washington Times, a conservative publication, speculating that he was maneuvering to stay on as Defense secretary in a Democratic administration. When he was appointed SecDef a year ago, a sympathetic friend gave him a clock showing exactly how many days remained to the next Inauguration Day, Jan. 20, 2009. Gates carries the clock wherever he goes.

With John Barry and Mark Hosenball in Washington and Rod Nordland in Baghdad

© 2007