Maneuvering a DDG Safely and Tactically
(See T. Ogden, pp. 80–82, March 2016 Proceedings)
Captain Wayne Tunick, U.S. Navy (Retired)—Commander Ogden’s article concerning destroyer flight operations was well written, especially his discussion on the use of polar plots and training. Unfortunately, he veered off into using the cultural differences between the surface warfare and aviation communities as an excuse to ignore the inseparable relationship between safety and mission accomplishment in aviation. Simply put, if the ship commanding officer makes a mistake, the ship may be damaged and need to limp home for repair. If the helicopter aircraft commander makes a mistake, the crew and aircraft will be lost.
The author comments that aviators “are inculcated into a safety culture such that a bias toward safety exists . . . this bias creates clear lines—the majority being safety related—that aviators will not cross.” Bravo Zulu to the air detachment that inculcated Commander Ogden with that fact!
The underlying message in his article is that aviators’ safety bias limits the mission accomplishment of the guided-missile destroyer. Nothing could be further from the truth! The transient limitations imposed by helo ops on a DDG are far outweighed by the mission capabilities that helos bring to the ship and the strike group. This false argument between safety and ship-mission limitations is based on a lack of respect for the challenges of landing a helo on a small deck. Our Navy helo pilots are so good at what they do that it looks easy, but it is arguably the most demanding evolution in naval aviation. The fact that a carrier escort may have to remain on course a few extra minutes to ensure safe flight ops at the expense of being out of position is not a safety bias—it’s a safety reality.
The true test of command is to do what is needed to recover the helo safely even if that may result in a dressing-down by the destroyer squadron commander. The fatal 2013 USS William P. Lawrence (DDG-110) helo tragedy was because of a wave, but the circumstance that set it up was a CO who was rushing to return to station with the CVN. Aviators learn early that the foundation of mission accomplishment is safety, since no mission can be a success with the loss of an aircraft or life.
Commander Ogden, as with every DDG CO with an embarked helo detachment, already has a safety officer on board: the aviation detachment officer in charge (OIC). Per NAVAIR 00-80T-122 IC13, “Helicopter Operating Procedures for Air-Capable Ships,” “In questionable circumstances, the squadron commanding officer/detachment OIC shall make final determination concerning flight safety of the aircraft, crew, and passengers.” This is one of the rare instances in the Navy where expertise overrules rank. The ship CO has supervisory responsibility while the detachment OIC has direct responsibility for the helo and its crew. This is clearly delineated to prevent COs who are not aviators from jeopardizing the aircrew in order to maintain point of intended movement or station. Commander Ogden will find that his aviation detachment OIC is much more reliable than his “seaman’s eye.”
Igniting Our ‘Greek Fire’
(See M. Studeman, pp. 30–35, March 2016 Proceedings)
Norman Polmar, author, Ships and Aircraft of the U.S. Fleet—I am a great admirer of Captain Studeman, his intelligence work, and his writing. However, I must take exception with two key points of his most interesting article.
First, “dedicated modular ships, designed from the keel up,” are not “making their debut.” The U.S. Navy has long had keel-up modular ships: (1) aircraft carriers from the USS Langley (CV-1) of 1922 through today’s nuclear-propelled carriers were designed with the intension of periodically changing their “weapons payload”—their manned aircraft; and (2) the Spruance (DD-963)–class destroyers were designed from the outset as “modular” warships.
The Spruances’ design was conceived in the 1960s as the DX/DXG program—ships with identical hulls, propulsion, and other components that could be configured for different roles. The DX became the Spruance, an antisubmarine ship with a large antisubmarine rocket (ASROC) launcher and magazine forward; the DXG was an air-defense ship with Mk-26 missile launchers forward and aft (without the separate ASROC launcher). The U.S. Navy built 31 DX/ASW variants, and Iran ordered six DXG variants, four of which entered the U.S. Navy as the Kidd (DDG-993) class.
Thus, from the outset these could be considered modular ships. Subsequently, 26 of the DX/DD Spruances had their ASROC launcher and magazine replaced by a 61-cell vertical-launch system (VLS) for Tomahawk land-attack missiles. And, under the direction of Rear Admiral Wayne Meyer, the DXG/DDG Kidd design was modified to the Aegis/SPY-1 configuration, becoming the Ticonderoga (CG-47) class. After the first five of these ships another 22 were constructed with the two Mk-26 launchers and magazines replaced by two 61-cell VLSs—another modular transformation.
Not built was a further Spruance modification—the DDH. This was to be a flight-deck configured ship—same hull, propulsion, and other systems—to operate helicopters and Harrier aircraft. Congress authorized the construction of two prototype DDHs, but the Navy declined to build them.
Thus, I would put forward that the Spruance DX/DXG/DD/DDG/CG/DDH was a keel-up modular design.
Second, I would take issue with Captain Studeman’s proposal to abandon the categorization of “high-end” and “low-end” warships, which originated with Admiral Elmo R. Zumwalt Jr. The proposed range of ship designations along the lines of “boxing classes”—from heavyweight to flyweight—is too fine-tuned to be of practical use. And commanders use the ship that’s available for crises and conflicts.
The simpler, more “coarse-grained” high-end and low-end categories are easier to use when considering capabilities. Whereas all boxers—of any class—use the same basic tactics and weapons (i.e., fists), the concept of high-end ships are those that have multiple warfare capabilities (e.g., antiair, antisurface, antisubmarine) whereas the low-end ships, the frigate and LCS in today’s fleets, generally are optimized for single missions (e.g., mine countermeasures, antisubmarine).
Again, let’s keep it simple.
More, Not Less
(See J. Murphy, p. 14, March 2016 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Commander Glenn L. Smith, U.S. Navy (Retired)—It is a sad day. For years I have eagerly opened Proceedings and turned Senior Chief Murphy’s “From the Deckplates” column. I’ve read them all. While it would be impossible to agree with the astute senior chief on all matters, in the case of his latest (and last), I could not have agreed more, not less! His observations about the removal of the “man” appellation in naval terminology is right on the mark. My questions are simply: Where will this silliness go next? And did our leadership miss the fifth-grade class where the teacher hammered home the definition of the word “man” as being all-inclusive of humanity, regardless of gender? Will the word “mankind” now have to be eliminated? What will be substituted? Peoplekind?
Look just at naval terminology, and ask what could be next if this trend is allowed to continue: Will the term “mate” be next? Will someone now argue that a boatswain’s mate or gunner’s mate implies a sexual relationship, and therefore should be eliminated? And what about a quartermaster? Does master imply male dominance? Should it be changed to quartermaster for men and quartermistress for women? Or perhaps quarterpeople? And does the part of the word “quarter” offend by insinuating that it is not a whole person, just one quarter of one? Maybe the rate should be wholeperson, not quartermaster? As a former chief quartermaster, I object! Chief wholeperson? I hope not.
Senior Chief Murphy, your commonsense voice will be sorely missed. Hopefully, some man (or woman) will step forward from the ranks to attempt to fill your really big man-shoes.
Captain R. A. Erbetta, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)—One of the first must-reads in each issue of Proceedings was always Senior Chief Jim Murphy’s column, especially the ones on military leadership. Maybe it’s because we were both in the cryptologic community, but most certainly the refrain I consistently heard throughout my naval career was, “Listen to your Chief.” I never forgot that advice, and it served me well throughout my 30 years of naval service from enlisted to officer. All of Senior Chief Murphy’s columns should be collected and bound to serve as a compendium of the best principles and practices of naval leadership. Senior Chief Murphy, this officer wishes you a hearty and well-deserved Bravo Zulu! And to the editors of Proceedings, I would respectfully request you find another talented and insightful CPO replacement so the next generation of sailors and officers will get the word: “Listen to your Chief!”
Editor’s note: Please see page 4 of this issue for more on Senior Chief Murphy’s farewell and what’s in store ahead for “From the Deckplates.”
Not Your Father’s BALTOPS
(See J. Foggo III And A. Cole, pp. 28–33, February 2016 Proceedings)
Captain Greg Hicks, U.S. Navy, Special Assistant for Public Affairs to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff —Vice Admiral Foggo and Lieutenant Cole focus on the importance of communication and how words and actions matter and must match in order to build and maintain credibility and trust. Through this focus, the authors contribute to the ongoing discussion on the significance of the information environment—a discussion under way on many levels at the Department of Defense, Joint Staff, and combatant commands, as well as within the services and interagency.
While I do not dispute the authors’ argument that the “information domain” is sometimes undervalued, I take issue with the assumption that an effective “strategic communication” plan will produce superiority in this domain.
Communicating strategically is an imperative, as is the commander’s involvement and ultimate ownership of any communication and engagement plan. However, a strategic communication plan is, at its essence, a public-affairs communication plan including messages, engagement opportunities, actions, tactics, and ways to assess results. A successful plan contains strategic messages evolved through a process—a strategic communication process—that pays attention to words, actions, engagements, and strategic intent at every level. This plan is best crafted, staffed, and executed by an empowered public affairs team coordinating communication efforts across the entire staff.
While the semantics of the plan’s name are important, it is more critical to note no matter how robust the communication plan is, achieving superiority or dominance in the information domain ultimately is not achievable in the same way it is for the air or maritime domains. There are too many elements in the information environment for any one nation or coalition to dominate during major operations or crises. The information environment is global and interconnected; achieving full control or even considering we might be able to dominate all audiences so they behave, understand, or interpret our facts and actions in a manner we desire is a stretch for any nation or coalition, much less a military commander. The goal cannot be dominance or superiority; the goal must be truth and trust, creditability, and a resonant story. To stir hearts, minds, and passions or to change attitudes, we must build a sustainable, credible narrative, one that resonates with our intended audiences while promoting our own mission themes and objectives. I concur with Vice Admiral Foggo and Lieutenant Cole that the techniques used during BALTOPS 2015 achieved those effects.
Why was the communication and engagement in BALTOPS 2015 so successful? Not because of an effective “strategic communication” plan, but because the commander was engaged in the communication planning process, providing clear guidance and intent, empowering his staff and providing the resources, personnel, and authority to execute “the plan.” Such guidance and direction enabled his team to use solid public affairs tactics combined with precision engagement to communicate words and actions strategically. The communication plan worked in this instance primarily because the commander led the process and empowered his team. I humbly submit that the communication lesson learned from this exercise is . . . “How the Commander Can Influence the Information Environment.”
Retribution
(See T. J. Cutler, p. 90, February 2016 Proceedings)
Chief Electronics Technician Mark A. Mathews, U.S. Navy (Retired)—I was immediately interested in Lieutenant Commander Cutler’s article about the USS Enterprise (CVN-65) post-9/11, because I was a “Big E” crew member during the 1979–82 Bremerton overhaul and workup for her tenth WestPac. I liked the title, as well as the well-earned “messages” written on the ordnance in the accompanying photo, to those who committed the heinous acts of terrorism. However, I came close to spewing coffee when I got down to the line identifying Islam as having had its image “hurt” by the murderous Islamic hijackers of 11 September 2001. “Hurt?” Really?
Believe me, having had to sit through the recent spectacle of watching U.S. Navy sailors willingly surrender their vessels and kneel at Iranian gunpoint with hands behind their heads, as well as seeing a female sailor forced to cover her head, I was more than ready for a positive article about our true strength as a successful fighting force, as well as a long-overdue and truthful identification of the real “enemy,” which we are currently, to this veteran, only halfheartedly fighting.
With all due respect, we are truly in trouble when otherwise presumedly learned men delude themselves by failing to do proper research, and instead rely on what is politically accepted and politically correct.
If Western civilization now, in our own time, fails to allow open discussion, then we might as well just dock our ship of state, throw out the gangway, and hoist the white flag of politically correct surrender, as we, too, fall to our knees.
A New Approach to Tactical Weapon Systems
(See S. O’Neil, pp. 54–59, February 2016 Proceedings)
Commander Jim Moses, U.S. Navy (Retired)—Mr. O’Neil hits many long-protruding nails squarely on their heads. Perhaps his best observation is that “the government must take control of our warfighting capability. This control is something we abrogated when we restructured our defense industrial base at the end of the Cold War.”
This trend started years earlier when, in a desire to involve industry farther upstream in the development process, coupled with pressures for increased competition (often only for its own sake), we shifted problem-solving from advanced development (“6.3”) to engineering development (“6.4”). We were paying prime contractors’ system engineers to try to answer technology questions that were the purview of researchers and scientists at Navy labs and specialized small contractors. My rule of thumb as an OPNAV resource sponsor was that what we could learn for one dollar of 6.3 funding would cost us ten in 6.4. I believe if we made better use of once well-established advanced development processes, we would be far less likely to “understate the readiness of the technology to be employed.”
Much of the corporate memory of the Department of Defense’s excellent laboratory system (as well as our systems commands’ in-house design and design-oversight capabilities that served us so well during the Cold War years) has been lost through retirements, consolidation, and outsourcing. If we start now, by bringing 6.3 work back in-house where it belongs, we can begin to achieve the goals Mr. O’Neil set out, and prepare for future global challenges—more quickly and at far less cost.