Admirals (and Generals) for Life
(See D. Crowder, p. 10, November 2015 Proceedings)
Admiral Leighton “Snuffy” Smith, U.S. Navy (Retired)—I could not disagree more with Vice Admiral Crowder’s “plea” that retired generals and admirals “stay on the sidelines and away from public endorsements of presidential candidates.” Why does anyone think that because we were selected for flag- or general-officer rank, we surrender our right to fully participate in the political process? Why would we, based on our extensive experiences in a wide range of activities and endeavors affecting our nation’s security, not want to call on those experiences to exert whatever influence we can on an event as important as electing those who will be responsible, above all else, for defending our country? Though I do not speak for all of those who joined us in 2012 to support Governor Mitt Romney in his Presidential bid, I would offer that very likely all of them would agree that expressing our collective opinion and providing our support for the candidate that we think will be the best and most effective leader of our great nation is an important part of being not only an admiral or general for life, but as well, a responsible citizen unafraid to speak his or her own mind. And for the record, the Washington Times list of retired generals and flag officers contained more than 500 names, and the cost of running that ad was paid for by those on the list.
Commander Michael Wisecup, U.S. Navy—Nothing could be more dangerous than the politicization of the military. With approval ratings for the military at 72 percent and Congress at 8 percent (according to a June 2015 Gallup poll), it is no surprise having an admiral or general on one’s team is an attractive validation of one’s views. But think of the implications to our profession if a political party could endorse and groom select active-duty officers into greater positions of authority in order to advocate for their platform. We are one of the few nations that take an oath not to a person or political party. Let us keep it that way, and let us cherish the faith of the American people; it can easily be lost.
As Vice Admiral Crowder says, there is no prohibition for a public citizen to publicly endorse politicians. But ask yourself if it would matter as much if you used “Mr.” or “Mrs.” as opposed to “Admiral” or “General.” You have led with honor and integrity, and the American people will listen to you because of your experience and selfless sacrifices, but please consider those still serving and the implications your actions have on us. Incidentally, you are implying that your endorsement is ours.
Vice Admiral Crowder, thank you for your leadership in this matter.
Two is One, One is None
(See M. E. Clark, pp. 24–31, November 2015 Proceedings)
Commander Lane E. Napoli, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)—I read with interest Major Clark’s article concerning the case for adding one more Marine fixed-wing attack aircraft, the A-29 Super Tucano. In my view, the article raised valid discussion points. But as I read it, I couldn’t help thinking I’ve seen this before, when another fixed-wing turbo-prop aircraft was offered to the U.S. military for almost the same reasons.
During the Vietnam War, such an aircraft, based on the highly successful P-51 Mustang fighter of World War II fame, was offered to the U.S. military as a light combat-air-support/ground-attack platform. The aircraft eventually was called the PA-48 “Enforcer.” Its strengths were performance, reliability, and lower maintenance cost. Prototypes were built and demonstrated through the years, but it was controversial, and ultimately the aircraft did not catch on. To me, the Enforcer has many similarities to the A-29 in Major Clark’s article.
While the article raises several issues, maybe something else to think about beyond the initial procurement is, when more aircraft are needed quickly, how fast can they be produced/acquired? For this reason, I would be concerned about buying a “foreign” aircraft where we are competing with other buying nations, even if the manufacturer has an assembly plant in the United States. I also wonder if this aircraft has enough punch and can take the hits any aircraft in the U.S. military needs to be able to handle, due to the multitude of missions it will face. Finally, in light of the debate over the survival of the A-10 Thunderbolt II, how viable is this proposal vis-à-vis the budget?
Making Expeditionary Force 21 Work
(See S. Kinner, pp. 18–23, November 2015 Proceedings)
Susanne Altenburger, Phil Bolger & Friends (LCU-F); Captain Michael Junge, U.S. Navy, professor of joint warfare at the Naval War College—Major Kinner postulates that “if the Marine Corps’ organizational culture lacks a bias for innovation and action,” then the Marines’ new operating concept, Expeditionary Force 21 (EF21) “is functionally stillborn,” and “an innovation organization can only exist if its senior leadership desires it to exist. . . . [t]he leading threat is the institution itself.”Weeks before releasing EF21, then-Commandant General James Amos spoke at WEST 2014 to the central importance of amphibs, connectors, and evading shore defenses by sheer distance. He announced an amphibious-assault paradigm shift by placing the amphibious ready group (ARG) some 70–80 nautical miles from shore, to then take connectors 120 nm down-range before turning into shore—an over-the-horizon distance of more than 200 nm one way (OTH-200), all driven by the need for surprise, virtual attrition ashore, and protection of the ARG. General Amos’ June 2014 Proceedings piece on fast heavy-lift connectors (“Bridging Our Surface-Connector Gap,” pp. 20–25) capped off this major exercise in leadership aimed at unprecedented enhancements of amphibious capability through attainable innovation in order to secure the long-term institutional strength of the Marine Corps.
However, things may be worse than Major Kinner’s concerns, when even the Commandant and the Marine Corps’ future appear secondary to entrenched internal de facto reactionary mindsets. By late 2015 innovators at Quantico, NAVSEA, and the Office of Naval Research seem to be on the defensive:
• No advanced heavy-lift higher-speed multipurpose connector-proposals capable of OTH-200 seem under consideration in respective shops, with backward focus instead on yet another redo of ’50s-era concepts.
• Other working-groups pursue amphib-building plans that will actually reduce each new amphib’s well-deck capacity by 58 percent (!), by replacing the 440-foot long well deck, 16,000-ton LSD-41 with a much heavier 25,000-ton LPD-17 derivative only offering 189 feet of well deck—and that at an astonishing cost of $1.3 billion each, vs. the initially budgeted $800–900 million for the fully featured LPD-17. In that atmosphere, it may not be surprising that then-CNO Admiral Jonathan Greenert’s innovative “Payloads over Platforms” perspective (Proceedings, July 2012, pp.16–23) and Vice Admiral Thomas Rowden, Rear Admiral Pete Gumataotao, and Rear Admiral Peter Fanta’s concept of “Distributed Lethality” (Proceedings, January 2015, pp.18–23) would never be able to leverage long well decks to explore broad options of well deck–based, on-the-fly, mid-ocean-swappable assault, patrol, and monitoring systems, ready to be dispersed as self-propelled surface/subsurface manned/unmanned lethality across the next 40 years.This is not a matter of scarce funding. Applying RAND Corporation metrics from the 2006 study “Why Has the Cost of Navy Ships Risen?” toward, e.g., “doing-a-B-52” with LSD-41 (the Air Force’s B-52 bomber design will be near 90 years old on retirement), a thoroughly modernized “proven and good enough” long well-deck 16,000-ton LSD-41/21—starting with upgrades already developed by NAVSEA’s PMS-450—could be built again now at a cost of around $600 million, including sloping-surface radar-signature attenuation measures. Per given shipbuilding budget, this suggests a near-doubling of new amphibs.
However, unless reactionary interests are pushed aside, Major Kinner’s concerns about a hollow EF21 will be overshadowed by a hollowed-out capacity to even plausibly deploy a Marine expeditionary unit from any ARG in anger.
It’s Time for a Revolution in Maritime ‘Credentialing’
(See J. C. Nygaard, p. 12, October 2015 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Scott Skrzypczak, U.S Navy—The U.S. commercial shipping industry is, in fact, facing a boom. Due to the large number of new ships being built at the same time that a large number of Merchant Mariners (both officers and unlicensed) are retiring, we are also facing a shortage of qualified mariners. While it is agreed that sailors from the Navy and specifically the surface-warfare community are in a very good position to fill this gap, it is not agreed as to how to approach it.
In the civilian world, deck officers spend a minimum of 360 days on board ships as cadets while attending one of the seven maritime academies in the United States. In addition, countless hours are spent in simulators and classrooms discussing everything from bridge resource management and ship interactions in narrow channels to ship stability and grain stowage. Upon graduation and successful completion of the U.S. Coast Guard third mate’s exam and all relevant Standards of Training, Certification, and Watchkeeping (STCW) control sheets, they are sent out into the merchant fleet. A typical third mate will spend eight hours of every day under way on navigation watch on the bridge, often with the lookout the only other person present. Navigation (both celestial and terrestrial), collision avoidance, weather observations, and monitoring STCW work-hour regulations are just a few of the watch duties performed by only the mate on watch. In port, a usual day of eight hours of cargo operations is normal, and a new third mate is expected to know and understand the basics of stowage, stability, and environmental protection.
Engineering officers face much the same qualification process regarding sea time and classroom time before meeting the requirements to take the Coast Guard third assistant engineer’s exam. Upon joining the fleet, third assistants are expected to be able to troubleshoot most of the equipment in the engine room as well as be able to bunker the ship. Their workday usually involves 12 hours in the engine room standing watch and performing maintenance.
The point being made here is that the surface-warfare community may be very well qualified within the Navy, but to say that SWOs can walk out of the Navy and onto a merchant ship with little to no additional training is just unrealistic. Although the two services share a long and distinguished lineage, the merchant fleet’s workplace demands and overall mindset are vastly different.
Commander Justin L. Harts, U.S. Navy—While I commend Captain Nygaard for revisiting the subject of mariner credentialing, the topic is much more complicated than we like to admit. As SWOs we tend to focus exclusively on the ship-driving aspect of the job while glossing over all the “other stuff” needed to become a licensed officer in the Merchant Marine, believing that a good warship driver should have no trouble finding a job driving a merchant ship. Having lived in both worlds, I can attest that SWOs are fantastic ship drivers, but the truth of the matter is that executing the privileges of a U.S. Coast Guard license is far more complicated than simply driving a ship from Point A to Point B. To understand the issue we need to understand the maritime industry and talk about differences in education, training, qualifications, and professional experience.
Education and Training: Aviation analogies don’t really work. Primary and intermediate flight training encompasses the whole Private Pilot and Instrument Rating syllabus, so FAA credentialing is a simple matter of taking an additional exam. These qualifications take a matter of months to acquire, not years. The Navy does not, and should not, teach to the same undergraduate level required to pass the Coast Guard exam. It takes the Merchant Marine Academy and state maritime academies four years to prepare a candidate for the Coast Guard license exam, and ship driving is only a small portion of that preparation. Likewise, it’s not worth the Navy’s investment to train fleet SWOs in those areas where there is little or no overlap with naval operations. In the areas where we do overlap, such as seamanship, navigation, and engineering, we are faced with major differences in philosophy. The Navy spreads expertise over a wide variety of enlisted ratings and a select number of officers based on their billet assignments—not every officer gets the same training. The Merchant Marine consolidates uniform expertise in each and every officer.
Qualifications: The Navy’s approach to surface qualification needs to change substantially to conform to international standards. The process to obtain Coast Guard/STCW qualification is focused on the achievement of objective, uniform requirements that usually take the form of a formal written exam. In contrast, Navy qualifications are largely subjective in nature, focused on the personal comfort level of a single commanding officer, who has the authority to modify the examination as needed to meet mission requirements.
Experience: The Coast Guard already counts some Navy sea time toward professional experience. For example, to renew my deck license they counted 100 percent of my OOD time (day for day), but only 50 percent of my tactical action officer time (because I was not solely responsible for the safe navigation of the ship). And they counted 0 percent of all other underway time. It can be done but, as Captain Nygaard points out, at considerable expense, because learning all that other stuff about the maritime industry takes time.
Confessions of a Major Program Manager
(See M. Vandroff, pp. 48–52, October 2015 Proceedings)
Commander Steve Cloak Jr., U.S. Navy (Retired)—I spent 31 years working as a government civilian engineer within Naval Air Systems Command (NAVAIR), spending the last 15 years of my career first as the lead systems engineer for a block of programs within a major NAVAIR program office, and then the final seven (prior to retirement in February 2014) as the chief engineer of a major program office. Captain Vandroff’s article is both entertaining and accurate. One issue that he did not bring to the forefront, that I believe to be one of the core issues major program managers face these days, was born before folks like the captain were seniors in college—that is the structure of our contracts and the acquisition system since the last great attempt at acquisition reform, circa 1994.
Prior to that time, the acquisition system was one where the guys in the the labs would actually take a requirements set and develop, design, build, and test weapon systems that were then specified in a system specification that the system command released to the defense industry as part of a request for proposal. Since that great ’90s experiment in acquisition reform, defense contracts have been structured to give the winning bidder total system-performance responsibility (TSPR). It was a strategy initially focused on gaining efficiency and fostering an environment where redundancies and/or unnecessary practices could be eliminated, and best commercial practices could be applied to make the acquisition and weapon system better. Theoretically, the government was required to take a big step backward and give the contractor freedom to innovate without the traditional level of government oversight. Once the TSPR clause is included in the contract, the government is supposed to move forward under the assumption that the contractor has the management and technical expertise to deliver the product (or service) without the aforementioned oversight.
My experience is that TSPR is the bane of the program manager’s existence. If a TSPR clause is to be modified (or, may the good Lord help us, eliminated) via a contract modification, or a program off-ramp is to be taken because of contractor non-performance, the costs can be extraordinarily high from a resource and temporal point of view. Again, if what I’ve lived over the past few decades is accurate, the major program manager comes into the job handcuffed by the system.