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We ignore the Third World submarine threat today at our own peril—and may find ourselves a target in a future major regional contingency.
BLAM!
It couldn’t be happening this way. A terrific force lifted the commanding officer’s Aegis warship out of the water, broke her back, and unceremoniously dumped her back into the unforgiving ocean. The deck was collapsing beneath him, and the large-screen displays flashed their air-contact data and air-corridor symbology one last time.
Between the fraction of a second since the deafening explosion and the fraction of a second before he fell into the surrounding flames, the captain’s mind raced to explain his fate. Time seemed both to slow and expand as if to torture him for not previously assimilating the data to prevent this disaster.
The pieces of the puzzle came rapidly together from his memory: the reports of the sinking of one of the newest
LPD-17-class amphibious ships with the loss of all Marines on board early this morning, the report of the sinking of the first surge sealift ship in open waters right after he had finished lunch on the bridge, and the reports reflecting datums for two of the three as yet unlocated export Kilo submarines. He had not been caught completely off guard. He had adopted the Truxtun rule, “so that in a few minutes’ warning the ship may be ready at any time to go into an engagement by night or day.”1 He had followed the recommended tactical doctrine for shallow water and had been using his SQS-53C sonar in accordance with guidance all day. The theater-ballistic-missile-defense (TBMD) mission had dominated his mind and the positioning of his ship. Even throughout the short-fuse Tomahawk-launch drill (during which he had been forced to
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run full power to reach the launch basket and then to return to his TBMD sector) he had been thinking about the underwater threat.
After all, this was the first major regional contingency (MRC) of the 21st century, and he and his Navy had been ready. He had been a part of his country’s transition from its bipolar containment of the former Soviet Union to the execution of forward presence and crisis response in a world full of regional contingencies. His experience at sea, in the Pentagon, and at the Naval War College had given him a well-rounded view of his Navy’s mission in the world. He was able to examine things from tactical, operational, and strategic perspectives—as well as from national-security, political, and economic views. He knew the budgetary reasons for the Navy’s downsizing effort and had a well-founded understanding of the current doctrine, which had its origins in the Department of the Navy’s 1993 Posture Statement and “. . . From the Sea.”2 They had come to fruition nearly ten years later.
The aircraft carrier remained a vital part of the fleet, although expeditionary forces, which sometimes included one and sometimes did not, were becoming increasingly representative of the adaptive force packaging of the modern Navy. Use of such a force for maritime interdiction to support the enforcement of economic sanctions was increasing. U.S. public opinion concerning “opposition to foreign combat” was more pronounced since the incidents in Bosnia, Somalia, and Haiti nearly a decade earlier.3 Low tolerance for loss of American life was buttressed by the limited number of casualties in the Gulf War of 1991, and this “standard” had almost conditioned Americans to expect low-to-zero casualties abroad. He couldn’t remember how many Marines the new LPD-17-class ship carried, but he knew it to be on the order of two to three 1983 Lebanon truck-bomb incidents—and that is how he supposed the U.S. public would measure the loss.
Taking significant and definite steps prior to involvement—and accepting involvement only as a part of the United Nations or some other arranged coalition—was about the only way the United States would do battle. However, the United States felt the strong urge of leadership in instances where either its interests or the interests of humanity were at stake. World opinion compelled the United States to act in some leading capacity in all regional contingencies—and so it was with this regional contingency. What had started as a disputed act of aggression with a possible diplomatic remedy had escalated into a coalition of economic sanctions enforced by several navies of the world employing maritime interdiction and blockade. Finally, with the events of the last 12 hours, his country found itself part of a full-blown major regional contingency.
In addition to the two squadrons of U.S. surface combatants sent as a naval expeditionary force, a U. S. carrier battle group and an amphibious ready group were loitering in the area—just in case. Feeling the need to be poised for possible use of ballistic missiles, the battle group commander detached his Aegis destroyer and an Aegis cruiser from the carrier battle group and positioned them to counter—with their TBMD capabilities—the aggressor’s potential employment of weapons of mass destruction. Tomahawk launches and air power would be the next force alternative in a continuing effort to avoid direct U.S. military intervention on the ground. Eventually, some envisioned that the amphibious ready group would conduct an amphibious landing to enable sustained ground intervention by the Army.
Several days earlier, the United States had decided to prepare for the introduction of ground troops because of the staging, loading, transit, and unloading time line of aboyt 30 days.4 Overseas troop reductions in Europe, Korea, and Japan had forced increased reliance on halting an invasion with sealifted and airlifted equipment and troops. In addition, the magnitude of the sealift contribution drove a precautionary lead decision to send the fast sealift ships. Sealift carried 95% of the requirement, as he recalled from Gulf War data.5 Actual troop intervention could be debated in the meantime, and the ships could be turned around if the final decision went against using ground troops.
For a moment, he considered the fate of the other seven fast sealift ships. He knew that like the first one, they would be easy prey for almost any submarine, because they all had been ordered to sail along the same track to shorten delivery times. They had been constructed more or less to commercial standards and were supposed to be able to survive a single hit, but they lacked any surface- ship silencing measures. The loud acoustic signature made the ships easy prey for the enemy submarine sonar team. Further, it hadn't been deemed necessary to mount recently available torpedo defensive systems on board the sealift ships—as though the possibility of a submarine attack on a sealift ship had been assumed away to save money. What a defense-in-depth the sealift ships could have had if—along with silencing and torpedo defense— there had been enough antisubmarine-warfare-capable surface combatants available to escort them. Had the remaining seven sealift ships been turned back after the first one was sunk, or were antisubmarine-warfare escorts rushing to their protection? Could they accomplish both escort and maritime-interdiction duties simultaneously? Would they fight it through or run around? If they got through, would we have enough of the right equipment to intervene with the ground troops—-since an entire sealift ship’s cargo of critical tanks and spare parts now lie at the bottom of the ocean? How would the naval component commander of the Joint Task Force explain that all of his other surface ships had valid missions at the time and that he had no more available for antisubmarine warfare protection?
As the commanding officer of an Aegis destroyer and as part of the naval expeditionary task force, he understood the way events had unfolded. It was all happening as predicted in the now-famous Bottom Up Review of 1993.6 So why were things beginning to go wrong? The logic of the new strategy had been tied directly to forceplanning issues back in the mid-1990s. In accordance with the Lloyd Framework and the Bartlett Model (see Figures 1 and 2), the new strategy had a definite link via constrained resources to force planning.7
The new sealift ships again came to mind. The Gulf War dictated a massive movement of Army equipment— but it came too slowly. Consequently, the new strategy element of crisis response coupled with overseas troop re-
Figure 1: Lloyd Framework
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vided only 65.13 The percentage of allied contribution to the current MRC was not even that high so far.
Force planners did not appear to understand the numerous competing missions for surface combatants in a single MRC—let alone the mission requirements for the second MRC in the controversial Win/Hold/Win strategy. He couldn’t help but feel that the linkage between strategy and force planning had been broken, in terms of forward presence, crisis response, and the number of surface combatants required.
He then considered the use of the antisubmarine-warfare assets in the current MRC. The order of battle had included the five or six Kilo submarine exports that belonged to the regional aggressor. Several nuclear submarines and maritime patrol aircraft were engaged in an asset-intensive search, but the majority of submarines available had orders to gather intelligence about enemy port activities and potential amphibious force landing areas. Finding the Kilos appeared to be a secondary mission; the real concern was the possible involvement of another country with nuclear submarines on patrol. The nuclear-submarine reductions of the 1990s left only six that were forward deployed and available to the naval component commander. The maritime patrol aircraft that could have conducted antisubmarine warfare were being tasked to provide a better surface picture for the interdiction operations, and the lack of a nearby land base restricted on-station time for the P-3s.
ductions generated a requirement for two Army divisions and their equipment to clear U.S. ports within ten days en route to any crisis overseas.8 These forces were to “halt the invasion,” as required in the Bottom Up Review.1' Thus, the requirement for fast sealift support ships increased to nearly 20, and Congress quickly appropriated the money. Conversion and construction began almost immediately, with the first deliveries occurring back in 1995.10 Here was real evidence of a direct linkage between strategy and force planning.
However, he also recalled reading the Navy’s “Force 2001,” distributed in 1993, because he simply could not believe force planners were going to push through a 40% cut in surface combatants, leaving the Navy with only 116 of them." They appeared to feel that 116 was an appropriate level to maintain, because they had decided to decommission an FFG-7-class frigate for each new DDG-51 brought into the fleet. The number 116 bothered him, however, because a full accounting for ships in overhaul, maintenance, and training required ratios ranging from four to seven ships for each ship forward deployed.12 This meant that of the 116 surface combatants in commission, only 17 to 29 would truly be available for forward deployment at any given time. Maritime interdiction, escort of the carrier battle group, escort of the amphibious ready group, Tomahawk launches, TBMD missions, and protection of shipping required surface combatants. During major regional contingencies, all of these missions were likely to require simultaneous execution. Some believed that allies or the coalition would supply the remainder of the ships required, but he remembered that during the Gulf War, his country had supplied 165 ships, while the other 19 countries in the coalition pro
The naval component commander persuaded the Joint Task Force commander to dedicate two or three Aegis ships for TBMD missions—owing to the general fear of ballistic missile launches and the possibilities of chemical or biological warheads—but he was unable to convince anyone in authority of the antisubmarine-warfare problem. Until today, even the Kilo submarines were not helping him develop a compelling argument. They had been in the area nearly a month but had taken no action against any warships. Consequently, everyone was beginning to believe that they were unable to do any damage. Two Kilos were imaged in port, and the other three or four were expected to be very near homeport. Centralized efforts at eliminating the confusion between the covert
submarine intelligence gathering, the surface- and air-asset maritime interdiction, and the antisubmarine-warfare searches were slowly improving, but the initial weeks of command and control always were the most difficult. The pressure to make the maritime interdiction work and the lack of a real expectation of offensive violence at sea by an aggressor who possessed no credible navy—along with a general misconception about the inability of small nations to train a submarine fleet—had lulled most commanders into a false sense of security.
He remembered feeling a little queasy back at the Naval War College about the lack of respect for the submarine threat. The Bottom Up Review listed the potential aggressor’s order of battle to “include up to 50 submarines,”14 but no one seemed to feel that the submarine threat was of much concern. Oddly, our own nuclear submarine force was being reduced by nearly 50% at the same time.15 Consequently, he had rarely seen a realistic wargaming effort that modelled the potential aggressor’s submarines as being unlocated during key phases of a crisis response, and they were rarely sent against the sealift, maritime prepositioning, or amphibious warfare ships.
During the 1980s and 1990s, several regional aggressors—including today’s foe—had built up their diesel submarine fleets. Some even had developed indigenous submarine construction programs. While world attention was riveted toward nuclear and missile proliferation, submarine proliferation flourished. Bold statements foretelling future submarine activity went unheeded. For example, one Chief of Naval Staff of a potential regional hegemon stated in 1993 that indigenous submarine construction was “. . . crucial to modernizing” and “. . . central to tomorrow’s sea battles.”16
The growth of regional submarine fleets was aided by general misconceptions about new submarine technologies such as high-density batteries, improved periscopes, air-independent propulsion, and submarine weapons proliferation. In fact, even in 1993, more than 40 countries other than the United States and the former Soviet Union operated more than 400 submarines.17 Some 200 of those were owned by states that were once called "Third World” nations, and by the year 2000, nearly 40% of those submarines were Soviet Kilos or follow-on variety, forming a modern force.18 This was indeed contrary to the perception that if a regional aggressor had submarines, he wouldn’t have many, and that what he had wouldn’t go far or accomplish much. Drawing on the Malvinas War example of the San Luis and its failed torpedo shots, as well as the Libyan Foxtrots that rarely got under way, most Americans thought that no other country could provide the training to establish a credible submarine force. They ignored the fact that the San Luis made a six- to seven- week deployment and traveled nearly 800 miles from its homeport, suffering only fire-control and torpedo deficiencies that could have been rectified easily.19
The same people ignored the difficulties that a modern navy which prided itself in antisubmarine warfare had experienced:
A small force of Argentine diesel-electric submarines created enormous concern for the British. It dictated, at least as much as did the air threat, the conduct of British naval operations and caused the expenditure of a vast supply of antisubmarine warfare weapons. Virtually every antisubmarine weapon in the task force was expended on false submarine contacts.20
An involved battle group commander made a very ominous statement:
There was also the inescapable truth that the Argentinian commanders failed inexplicably to realize that if they had hit the Hermes, the British would have been finished.21
Previous warning signals about the capability of submarines with comparatively little training sparked no interest:
A French-built Pakistani Daphne-class submarine sank an Indian frigate, killing 191 of its 288 crew members. Another Daphne-class submarine, operating approximately 3,000 nautical miles from its Karachi base, attacked the Indian Navy aircraft carrier the Vikrant. The attack failed, but contrary to Indian reports, the submarine was able to evade the Indian counterattack. It should also be noted that in 1971, the Daphnes had been in the Pakistani Navy for only about a year, and Pakistan had operated submarines for less than 10 years.22
Regional aggressors of concern for other reasons such as ballistic-missile and nuclear proliferation were rarely questioned about their submarine fleets. In 1993, North Korea had approximately 24 submarines, and Iran had ac-
quired one Soviet-built Kilo and was in the process of acquiring more.2' In addition, if we expected any possible Chinese assistance to North Korea (a fact kept in mind when considering the nuclear question and ground force planning but—oddly—not naval issues), then we could have attached more concern to China’s submarine fleet of 90-100. As if that was not enough, there were the Indian and Pakistani submarine fleets of 21-24 and 6-8 respectively.24
His thoughts jumped to oceanography and the shallow- water antisubmarine-warfare problem. Hadn't his country placed the correct priority on research and development in this area? The Navy’s concern about this problem had been well documented,25 and although it had fallen in priority, some research and development money was applied to adapt to the shallow-water littoral challenge.26 However, at the same time that the focus was shifted to the asset-intensive shallow-water environment, all types of antisubmarine-warfare assets were declining in number.27
The captain’s subconscious mind had reviewed the events that had brought him to his end. At least he wouldn’t die without knowing why. An exported unlocated Kilo submarine had fired one exported wake-homer at his ship, and despite immediate detection by his sonar team and his immediate order to increase speed and evade, the weapon had found its target and finished the job. Possessing only six Kilo submarines, the regional aggressor had managed to get four under way. Three others had remained unlocated during crisis build up. When they struck—taking advantage of shallow water in some cases and a general disbelief of their inability to operate in deep waters in other cases—they remained unlocated long enough to exact a toll of one Aegis destroyer, one fast sealift, and one LPD-17-class amphibious ship. The same Kilo that had sunk the unescorted LPD-17-class ship had also sent two torpedoes into the carrier, which, though not yet sunk, could not launch her aircraft. Stripped of all but one of her escorts by the TBMD mission and maritime interdiction operations—and of her close-in protection by the decade-old decision to remove antisubmarine warfare helicopters—her loud, unquieted signature had made the national asset an easy target.
He vowed to share his revelations with those who could promote change—if he survived:
► Elevate diesel submarine proliferation to its deserved level of concern.
>• Reconsider the force level of antisubmarine-warfare-capable surface ships required.
• Competing missions often require simultaneous execution during a major regional conflict.
• Consider also those surface ships required to commence the second regional conflict and routine forward presence in other areas.
>• Give higher priority and funding to programs such as surface ship silencing and torpedo defense. The programs assist in building a defense-in-depth concept against underwater weapons and help buy back the decommissioned antisubmarine-warfare-escort force structure.
► Increase the wargaming effort to model more realistically the tactics a regional aggressor (with a fleet of diesel submarines) would use.
• Pit the enemy submarines directly against our strategic sealift, maritime prepositioning ships, amphibious ships, and aircraft carriers.
• Wargame the potential for part of the regional aggressor’s submarines to remain unlocated during the various phases of crisis response.
>■ Reconsider the importance of quantity in asset-intensive warfare areas such as antisubmarine warfare. Modernization by decommissioning may result in a fleet too small to counter the threat.
The first MRC of the 21st century would continue, but neither he nor his ship would participate in the unexpected turns history would take over the next year. The unlocated submarines had drastically changed the planned time line, the course of events, and the final outcome. Even so, 50 years hence, historians, professors, and students would be discussing whether or not submarines had been decisive in the MRC. But then, that would not be so different from the way history had documented submarine warfare earlier.
'Eugene S. Ferguson, Truxtun of the Constellation (Baltimore MD: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1956; reprinted ed., Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1982), p. 141.
:U.S. Dept, of the Navy, 1993 Posture Statement (Washington, DC: 1993), p. 4. ■William C. Adams. “Opinion and Foreign Policy,” Foreign Sen’ice Journal, Vol. 61, No. 5, May 1984, p. 32.
4MajGen. Fred E. Elam, USA, and LtCol. Mark Henderson, USA, “The Army’s Strategic Mobility Plan” Army Logistician, May/Jun 1992, p. 5.
*U.S. Dept, of Defense, Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress (Washington, DC: 1992), p. 252.
6Les Aspin, Force Structure Excerpts: Bottom-Up Review and Bottom-Up Review Briefing Slides (Washington, DC: 1993), p. 5.
’Force Planning Faculty, Fundamentals of Force Planning, Vol. Ill: Strategy and Resources (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 1992), pp. 7-8.
"Elam, p. 5.
’Aspin, p. 7.
'"“Remaining Sealift Ship Contract to be Awarded this Week,” Inside the Navy, Vol 6 No. 37, 13 September 1993, p. 9.
"Chief of Naval Operations, Force 2001: A Program Guide to the U.S. Navy, July 1993, Briefing Slides, p. 7.
i:Ronald O'Rourke, Naval Forward Deployments and the Size of the Navy (Washington, DC: Library of Congress, 1992), p. CRS-5.
13 DoD, Persian Gulf War: Final Report, p. 251.
MAspin, p. 5.
'“CNO, Force 2001, Briefing Slides, p. 7.
‘"“Need for Replacement Aircraft Carrier Seen," Delhi Indian Express, 29 September 1993, English Translation from America Online, Chicago, IL, 10 October 1993.
l7RAdm. James Fitzgerald, USN, and John Benedict, “There is a Sub Threat," U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, August 1990, p. 58.
'Mohn R. Benedict, “Third World submarines and ASW Implications for Future Regional Contingencies.” Presentation to Sea Control Working Group at 61st MORS, Johns Hopkins University/Applied Physics Laboratory, Baltimore MD: 22 June 1993, Briefing Slide 934926.
'’Fitzgerald, p. 63.
’"Adm. Harry D. Train II, USN. “An Analysis of the Falkland/Malvinas Islands Campaign" Naval War College Review, Vol. 41 Winter 88, p. 40.
“Adm. Sandy Woodward, RN (Ret.), and Patrick Robinson, One Hundred Days The Memoirs of the Falkland Islands Battle Group Commander (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1992), p. xviii.
"John R. Benedict, “Comment and Discussion," U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, October 1992, p. 20.
““Nations/Armed Forces/Order of Battle—North Korea/Iran—Navy—Submarines," USN I Military Database, April 1992.
““Nations/Armed Forces/Order of Battle—India/Pakistan—Navy—Submarines," USN1 Military Database, August 1991/October 1988.
“U.S. Dept, of the Navy 1993 Posture Statement, p. 25.
““Navy Advanced Technology Effort Coming into Focus in First Year," Inside the Navy, Vol. 6 No. 3, 18 January 1993, p. 13.
“CNO, Force 2001, Briefing Slides, p. 7.
Commander Rosenlof is a surface warfare officer who completed his Executive Officer tour in the USS O'Brien (DD-975). A recent graduate of the U.S. Naval War College, he is currently serving on the staff at Headquarters USCinCPac at Camp H. M. Smith in Hawaii.