“The Cyclops Mystery”
(See C. A. Nervig, pp. 148-151, July 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Professor E. B. Potter, U. S. Naval Academy faculty—Mr. Nervig has provided welcome additional information concerning the collier USS Cyclops, whose disappearance Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels called “the most mysterious happening of World War I.” There are in the Nervig article, however, a few small errors and omissions. Information on these points, I think, adds to the fascination of the story.
Mr. Nervig gives us a delightful character sketch of the irascible Commander Worley, captain of the Cyclops. After his ship vanished, a Navy investigation of his background revealed that he had been born in Germany, that his real name was Johann Friedrich Georg Wichmann, that as a youngster he had deserted from a German ship in the port of New York, and that his closest male associates had been German merchant masters. These facts led to a theory, subsequently disproved, that Worley (or Wichmann) had somehow hijacked the Cyclops and sailed her into a German port. A few days after the signing of the armistice that ended World War I, U. S. Chief of Naval Operations Admiral William S. Benson cabled Admiral William S. Sims, senior American naval officer in Europe: “Make every effort to obtain information from German sources regarding disappearance USS Cyclops.”
In his opening paragraph, Nervig mentions the departure of the collier from Bahia for Baltimore on 21 February 1918 (actually 22 February) and adds: “This was the last ever seen of the Cyclops.” In fact, the Cyclops put into Carlisle Bay, Barbados, on 3 March. The American Consul, Brockholst Livingston, II, went aboard and was surprised to be met with a request from Worley for funds to complete the voyage to the United States. The consul’s son, Brockholst Livingston, III, in a letter in the January 1929 issue of the PROCEEDINGS describes a visit to the consulate the following afternoon of Worley, the assistant surgeon, and a passenger. In the letter, he confirms Nervig’s assessment of Worley’s wretched navigation:
About five o’clock the guests left and we watched them from the beach as they went on board. There were some blasts on the whistle and the Cyclops backed. Then, going ahead, she steamed south. We did not consider this course odd until a few weeks later we got a cable requesting full details of her visit to Barbados.
In response to this request from the State Department, Consul Livingston cabled back a long, gossipy report including the following:
Master alluded to by others as damned Dutchman, apparently disliked by other officers. Rumored disturbances en route hither, men confined and one executed; also conspired [with] some prisoners from fleet in Brazilian waters, one with [life] sentence.
In stating that there were “no storms of any great intensity recorded during the period of her disappearance,” Nervig follows contemporary newspaper accounts based upon an erroneous early report from the Chief of the Weather Bureau to the Navy Department. Later, when fuller data had been collected and it became possible to construct a complete weather map for March 1918, it was found that there had been “a front on 8 March, lying right across the estimated position of the Cyclops.” The freighter SS Amalco, carrying molasses in bulk from Puerto Rico to Boston, encountered a heavy gale on the 9th and almost sank. Her commanding officer Captain Charles E. Hillyar, called it the worst gale he had ever encountered. “The heavy seas which washed over the ship,” he continued, “strained the hull and the machinery badly, stove in the lifeboats, wrecked the bridge, carried away the topmost light and all but sent the Amalco to the bottom.”
On this and other evidence the Navy Department concluded, in the words of Secretary Daniels that “the only theory that seems tenable is that the Cyclops was caught in a sudden West Indian hurricane; that her cargo shifted, listing the vessel, which turned turtle and went down.” Nervig’s additional information provides convincing evidence that the Cyclops broke in two.
In his last paragraph, Nervig states:
Of all the officers and men who lost their lives in that disaster, only three can be said to have had little to lose: three General Courts Martial prisoners convicted of the horrible murder of a shipmate and sentenced to prison terms ranging from 50 to 99 years.
In fact, there were five prisoners being sent back to the States in the Cyclops. Marine privates W. D. Stamey and L. W. Hill had been sentenced to two years each for absence over leave. The other three prisoners had indeed been convicted of offenses more or less related to the murder referred to. These were John Morefield, water tender, U. S. Navy, sentenced to five years for failure to stop and report a drunken party; Moss Whiteside, water tender, U. S. Navy, sentenced to 15 years for not stopping and reporting drunken party, participating in drunken party, and perjury; and Bernard De Voe, fireman third class, U. S. Navy, sentenced to life imprisonment for complicity in murder. The special irony of this case is that the actual murderer was not on board the Cyclops when she went down. These, together with the two runaway Marines, were transferred to the Cyclops, which arrived at Rio on 28 January.
Senior Chief Damage Controlman Dean D. Hawes, U. S. Navy, Master Diver—In June of 1968, while searching for the submarine Scorpion, the USS Fargo (SSN-650) located a wreck about 70 miles off Cape Henry in about 180 feet of water. A short time later, the submarine rescue ship USS Sunbird (ASR-15) put divers down to identify the wreck. They reported it to be a World War II German submarine with two deck guns.
During this time, my ship, the USS Kittiwake (ASR-13), was deployed in another search area. After our return to Norfolk four months later, we were directed to investigate the wreck off Cape Henry and confirm the type of ship. The Fargo again located the wreck, and we lowered two two-man diving teams. We found the wreck lying at approximately a 40-degree angle. The divers were put on the extreme tip of the sunken vessel’s bow; however, after investigating, none of the four divers were able to give positive identification.
As senior enlisted diver on board, I was in charge of the diving station, and asked the executive officer, also a diver, if I could make a dive. While below, I found the ship definitely to be a very old cargo ship with two cradled booms forward, and also what appeared to be two king posts. At the time it seemed strange that there was no rigging of any kind on these king posts. In addition, there was no catwalk or span between them. In all, I made three dives, but because of sudden bad weather, the ship was forced to leave the area.
Time passed, and I became a patient in the hospital. By chance I ran across a copy of the PROCEEDINGS which contained the story on the collier Cyclops.
I was immediately struck with the resemblance of the Cyclops to the wreck I had seen. At this time, I cannot say that the ship I saw was definitely the Cyclops, but the possibility certainly does exist. The ship was very old, dating at least from the early 1900s. The article said the ship might have broken in two. The way the wreck is lying on the bottom gives the appearance of having also been broken in two somewhere aft of the first set of uprights and aft of the bridge. At the time the Pargo located the wreck for us, they told us another smaller piece of wreckage was nearby. This could well be the stern section lying on its side.
The more I thought about it, the more I believed this sunken ship to be the Cyclops. In fact, I feel so strongly, that I think it should be investigated further. Perhaps we could clear up one of the Navy’s biggest mysteries.
The Navy is constantly talking about the need for diver’s training—more practical experience. Investigating this wreck would be an excellent project. With so many other duties, rescue ships are not able to train divers frequently, but given this opportunity, I believe it would help prepare them for their primary job- search and salvage of sunken submarines. A “live” target gives the diver something to strive for.
H. E. Robards—Mr. Nervig’s interesting story of life on board during the last days of the USS Cyclops appears to contain one serious error—his statement that the ship was never seen again following her departure from Bahia (Salvador), Brazil, on 21 February 1918.
Actually, the Cyclops, following her Brazilian departure, called at Barbados, British West Indies, on 3 March 1918, departing the following day for Baltimore. While in Barbados, she must have been seen by a good many people. My authority is A. A. Hoehling’s, The Great War at Sea (Corgi Books, London, 1967), in which he quotes a contact between Commander Worley and the U. S. Consul at Barbados. He also notes Worley’s departure cable to NavOps, filed at Barbados 4 March, and the Senior (British) Naval Officer’s (Kingston) report to the Admiralty, London of 29 March.
It appears that the Cyclops’ call at Barbados was unplanned—almost as mysterious as her disappearance. As noted by Mr. Nervig, the USS Raleigh, Navy Station ship at Salvador (Bahia) cabled NavOps that the Cyclops’ expected time of arrival in Baltimore was 7 March, which implied a direct non-stop voyage. Commander Worley explained at Barbados that the reason for the unplanned call was the need for bunker coal (800 tons), although she was said to be carrying some 1,500 tons on departure from Brazil—more than enough for the trip. Commander Worley also insisted on taking on large stores of food stuffs in Barbados, despite protests by the American Consul about the price and also the quantity.
It is also interesting to note that Mr. Nervig follows the old Anglo-American maritime tradition of referring to the port cities of Northern Brazil by the names of the States in which they are located, rather than by the true name of the city. Thus, the city of Salvador becomes Bahia, the city of Recife is called Pernambuco. This practice was apparently never used in referring to the Southern Brazilian ports such as Rio de Janeiro, Santos, and the like. Brazilians themselves often refer to Salvador as Bahia, but have never made the switch to the other port city names. Possibly this was the origin of this custom, which appears to be falling into disuse.
Rear Admiral George van Deurs, U. S. Navy (Retired)—What ever became of the colliers Nereus and Proteus? They were two of the seven 19,000-ton sister-ships built between 1910 and 1913 to coal our battleships. Ten cargo holds, under a maze of coaling booms, separated the bridge, near the bow, from the machinery and living spaces in the stern. From keel to truck, these seven were unlike any other ships before or since. They served until the early 1920s and then two of them, the Nereus and the Proteus, rusted away in the Norfolk Navy Yard until March 1941. Few people know that soon afterward they became sea mysteries.
The Cyclops, first of the class, was the U. S. Navy’s biggest single loss during World War I. She made the headlines in 1918. It was different with the Nereus and the Proteus. Few people noted the sale of these rusty relics in March 1941 to the Saguenay Terminals, Ltd., of Ottawa. Even fewer knew that they were refitted, manned by small crews, and employed in carrying bauxite from the Virgin Islands to Canada. After several successful voyages, the Proteus left St. Thomas on 23 November 1941, carrying 12,200 tons of ore. The Nereus followed with 13,000 tons on 10 December. Both ships vanished.
The news of Pearl Harbor crowded their story from the newspapers. No one observed the parallel of their disappearance with the old Cyclops mystery. As in that earlier case, no wreckage was ever found to show destruction by storm, mine, or internal explosion. As before, the enemy had no record of them.
Most explanations suggested in the 1920s for the Cyclops depended on some unsupported assumption of her master’s incompetence. None can be directly applied to the later losses.
More recent weather research showed that none of the three were in violent storms, but unless they sank first, each would have met a rapidly moving cold front bringing head winds of not over 30 or 40 knots. Soon thereafter they would have suddenly bucked 16-to-18-foot head seas.
Oceanographers tell how a similar front, possibly combined with resonant waves and a cargo shift, capsized an ore-carrying freighter in 1954. Unprepared for rough weather, she was overwhelmed too quickly to get off an SOS. Her wreckage floated, however, and 12 survivors were eventually recovered. Something like this might have happened to the Cyclops, Nereus, and Proteus, but it seems hard to believe that waves lower than their sterns could have simply capsized them so quickly that no wreckage was left.
Another sistership, the Jason, hinted at a more probable fate. I served in her from 1929 to 1932 while she tended seaplanes on the Asiatic Station. On the well deck or the bridge, she felt like any other ship. Aft, however, everything bounced a foot or more, up and down, in time with her engines. Walking along was like balancing on a springboard being joggled by an unseen person.
As in most merchantmen of that day, builders constructed these ships of metal plating believed to be heavy enough to rust for years without becoming dangerously thin. Unlike most ships, no fore-and-aft bulkheads stiffened their cargo spaces. Instead, several heavy I-beams ran the length of the ship just inside the skin. For some 50 feet, between the engine room and Number Ten hold, the girders were normally buried in the coal in the ship’s bunkers which surrounded the fire-room.
In 1932, a seaman tapping rust from the Jason’s waterline suddenly lost his hammer through a hole he knocked in her side. About the same time, her first lieutenant noticed that the I-beams’ 3-foot webs and inner flanges were gone from the bunker space. Corrosion had completely destroyed them. Only the weakened skin plates tied the stem to the rest of the ship. With a light load, we detoured Jason south of all storm tracks. She wriggled across the Pacific and lived to end in a boneyard, because she never had to buck head seas with a full load of ore.
The Nereus and Proteus rusted even longer than the Jason, but for most of their lives, they were empty of coal or other corrosive agents. The Cyclops’ unbalanced engine kicked her stern up and down for thousands of miles. All three heavily laden vessels probably snapped at their firerooms when they bucked head seas. If this is actually what happened, the loss of the Chilco shows how sudden such an end could be.
The Chilco was a 7,000-ton, five-year-old, American-owned, Glasgow-built freighter. In 1927, some 200 miles from Yokohama with a cargo of copper concentrate from Chile, she plowed into long swells. After a morning conference with the skipper, the chief engineer left her bridge and went aft on the catwalk. Everything seemed normal. Then, just as he reached the after deckhouse, the ship snapped in two. She broke in the cargo section. The forward part flipped over and sank so quickly that not even the watch on her open bridge got clear. The stern flopped over with a heavy list, but floated long enough for the engineers to cast loose a boat and tumble into it. They were fortunate to survive.
Is it not probable that the Nereus, Proteus, and Cyclops all suddenly snapped in their firerooms, and that the respective ends of these three ships capsized as quickly as the Chilco’s bow?
“Bloodless Weapon”
(See D. P. Wyckoff, pp. 64-69, September 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain C. A. Sanders, U. S. Navy, Commanding Officer, U. S. Fleet Sonar School—Heretofore, we have had our “PsyOps” done for us by gross mistakes on the part of the immediate enemy—Pearl Harbor in 1941, the crossing of the 38th Parallel in Korea, the sinking of the Lusitania in World War I, the sinking of the Maine in 1898. These “busts” on the part of the enemy were the rallying points around which public sentiment focused. They represented an immediate, visible threat to our way of life.
Somehow, since about 1962, we have been unable to depict a meaningful threat. Perhaps there is no threat. Most of us who are over 40, however, relate a “backtracking” in the face of “Red aggression” to the 1938 “backtracking” prior to World War II, when Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia. There is some possibility that we are reading too much into the present situation in Southeast Asia, but I doubt it. If we can believe the words of every Communist, from Marx to Stalin to Kosygin, to Ho, ultimately the Reds want to see democracy, as we define it, dead by fair means or foul. The oriental is more patient than we and is willing to take a small gain here and there as a step towards the ultimate achievement of his goal. We are less patient, and want to see the results of our efforts at least by yesterday.
By way of comparison, I believe we can relate the cautious and pessimistic attitude of the “older generation” with “we have learned the hard way,” and the trusting attitude of our junior officers with the trust, optimism, and hope of the younger generation.
My attitude relates to the fact that I haven’t seen an appreciable change in social and human behavior in 30 years, in spite of “steps” on the moon and advanced technology.
Naval Reserve Officer Postgraduate Dilemma
Lieutenant William J. Veigele, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)—Our Navy will not play the relatively simple role, or be operated as simply as was the Navy of the past. The expected complexities of its missions and operations will require an increase in education of naval personnel, particularly the officers.
Naval leaders have recognized these requirements and are continuously planning advanced education for active duty officers. Offered are graduate education at the Naval Academy, further development at the Navy Postgraduate School, the Navy Tuition Aid Program (BuPers. Instruction 1560.10), the Navy Fellowship program (SecNav. Instruction 1500.4), and the program for student naval aviators offering a Master’s Degree in aeronautical systems.[1]
During the last decade, naval officers have been encouraged to attend, and even automatically be considered for postgraduate or graduate school. The Navy continues to be anxious to have qualified officers take advanced education. It has suggested that obtaining advanced education will contribute to a more satisfying naval career and will increase an officer’s possibilities for promotion and retention. To ensure that student officers can apply themselves diligently to their studies and thereby become more valuable, the Navy minimizes or eliminates many military requirements.
One other concept acknowledged by naval leaders as essential to the Navy’s effectiveness is the Naval Reserve program, with emphasis on well-trained officers. Most of these Reservists have had active duty, reasonable proficiency in their designators, and participate in reserve training programs to maintain this proficiency. At present, Reserve officers hold virtually all designators and could occupy essentially all billets that are filled by active duty officers. Therefore, they need the same skills and abilities required by active duty officers. It is essential then that Reserve officers have advanced education at least equivalent to that of their active duty counterpart.
Since Reservists are required to maintain their proficiency, they are neither encouraged to nor are they especially rewarded for undertaking advanced education. Frequently, Reserve officers who attend postgraduate or graduate school are penalized by having their naval reserve status diminished relative to that of their contemporaries.
Reserve officers attending school must still satisfy the same military requirements as those not attending school. They may find this difficult, because of obligations to school, job, and family. Active duty officers attending school, on the other hand, have reduced military responsibilities, their finances are secure, and family welfare is arranged so that they may concentrate on academic studies.
Because of these limitations, many Reserve officers who enter graduate school anticipate that they cannot satisfy the conditions for retention in the Reserve and resign their commissions. Of those who do not resign, many find their Reserve service becomes discontinuous and their records appear less suitable than those of their contemporaries. They are passed over, and then prematurely retired or discharged. The Navy then loses many of its more industrious, intelligent, and better-educated Reserve officers—the ones the Navy should make greater effort to retain.
I believe there should be a reversal of the present Naval Reserve policy which appears to discourage Reserve officers from receiving advanced education, or which penalizes those who attend school. Encouraging advanced education for Reservists would be consonant with policy established for active duty officers.
For Reserve officers attending school, the most important activities are academic, and military obligations should be reduced or eliminated. Retirement points should be granted automatically—50 points for full time and less for part-time academic schedules.
These adjustments in Naval Reserve policy would encourage Reserve officers to seek advanced education to enhance their careers. The Navy would then retain and promote the ambitious, well-educated Reserve officer rather than lose him prematurely.
“The North Sea”
(See W. Langeraar, pp. 20-32, January; pp. 121-123, May; pp. 114-115, September 1967; pp. 111-112, January 1968; and pp. 114-115, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Commander R. 0. Planchar, Belgian Naval Reserve—The judgment of the International Court of Justice, concerning the delimitation of the continental shelf of the North Sea between the Federal Republic of Germany and the Kingdoms of the Netherlands and Denmark, delivered in the Hague on 20 February 1969, has just been published.
This judgment, covering 53 pages and comprising 101 paragraphs can be read as follows:
101—The Court, by eleven votes to six, find that, in each case,
A. The use of the equidistant method of delimitation not being obligatory as between the Parties, and,
B. there being no other single method of delimitation the use of which is, in all circumstances, obligatory, the principles and rules of international laws applicable to the delimitation as between the Parties of the areas of the Continental Shelf in the North Sea . . . are as follows:
1. delimitation is to be effected by agreement in accordance with equitable principles ... in such a way as to leave as much as possible to each Party all those parts of the continental shelf that constitute a natural prolongation of its land territory into and under the sea . . .
2. if . . . , the delimitation leaves to the Parties areas that overlap, these are to be divided between them in agreed proportions, or failing agreement, equally, unless they decide on a regime of joint jurisdiction . . .
C. In the course of negotiations, the factors to be taken into account are to include:
1. the general configuration of the coasts of the Parties, as well as the presence of any special or unusual features;
2. so far as known or readily ascertainable, the physical and geological structure and natural resources of the continental shelf areas involved;
3. the element of a reasonable degree of proportionality, which delimitation carried out in accordance with equitable principles, ought to bring about between the extent of the continental shelf areas appertaining to the coastal State, and the length of its coast measured in the general direction of the coastline . . .
The first remark, which can be made about this judgment, is that the method of delimitation, based on equidistance is not obligatory. Failing to decide a method of delimitation to be used, the Court orders, however, the Parties to enter into discussion and to reach an agreement based on principles of equity and proportionality. It agrees, generally, if not in every detail, with the German point of view. One must know that the areas which are claimed by both sides are very rich in natural resources. If Germany succeeds in obtaining a larger part of the continental shelf, it will be at the expense of the two other countries. Denmark, which has, on its land territory, no mineral resources, is very anxious to keep the southern part of her “equidistant” share—oil has been found in there. One must also know that the Netherlands’ resources in natural gases are situated very close to the “equidistant” part of Germany.
The Court said that, so far as it is known, the physical and geological structures of the areas involved are to be taken into account. However, it also said that the part of each coastal state is to be proportional, equitable, and in reasonable relation with the length of the coastline. An agreement under those conditions, is very hard to reach, if not unreachable.
It seems likely that an International High Authority—which one is not known—will have to give the last word, and will be, by lack of agreement, forced to make a definite delimitation between those states. It is logical to presume that the final decision will give a completely different picture of the sections allocated to each coastal state.
Belgium has not signed or ratified the Convention, and does not intend to. Among the reasons for this decision, we can say that the Belgian Government considers the Convention as an imperfect construction, full of shortcomings, and which does not even say or decide which Authority is going to arbitrate eventual disputes between states.
The case of the continental shelf of the North Sea is, by itself, a special and unusual feature. To some extent, we may say that the North Sea presents the general look of a closed sea. Around its shores are situated seven independent states: Great Britain, Norway, Denmark, West Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and France. The entire seabed consists of an uninterrupted continental shelf. The depths are less than 656 feet, except for the Norwegian Trough.
This situation is quite different from the situation in open seas, where the continental shelf is limited only by the depth of the water. It is also different from any continental shelf, such as the English Channel or the Adriatic Sea, where the delimitation between two opposite states is relatively easy. In the case of the North Sea, each national continental shelf is limited by at least two others. The question is how to divide it with equity and proportionality.
A tiny “handkerchief” would be allocated to Belgium, by the “equidistant rule,” as shown in Figure 1. This would not be equitable or proportional, nor would it include the entire length of Belgium’s coastline. If the Netherlands claims 23,938 square miles and have (with forced figures) about 373 miles of coastline, the proportion for Belgium should be, at least, 3,591 square miles (See Figure 2) instead of the 1,545 square miles previously granted to her.
According to the statement by the Court (Paragraph 89) which states:
It must be . . . observed that, in certain geographical circumstances, which are quite frequently met with, the equidistance method, despite its known advantages, leads . . . to inequity.
We would think that another method of delimitation could be used in cases such as this. The new method should be very close to the “sector”-method, in which each coastal state would receive a share based on its “maritime front,” and joining a central point, which will be the point closest to all median lines between opposite states, and not just between some of them.
The Dutch-Danish-German dispute is, I believe, the only competence given to the International Court of Justice. However, its judgment is going to make “jurisprudence” in international sea-affairs in the future. This problem has to be resolved quickly, because mankind should not be deprived much longer of the treasures which are lying under the North Sea.
“Seapower and Soviet Foreign Policy”
(See D. R. Cox, pp. 32-44, June 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Lawrence C. Allin, Doctoral Student in Maritime History, University of Maine—I, for one, would be most appreciative if the PROCEEDINGS could arrange for a knowledgeable author to weigh carefully the impact of the Russian merchant marine as an extension of the Soviet state, and draw us a careful balance sheet of its efforts, specifically, as an arm of the Red foreign policy.[2]
In his necessarily brief and limited article, Commander Cox seems to circumscribe his view of seapower and of the instruments of seapower to include only naval vessels and naval power as the tools available for the seaborne prosecution of Soviet foreign policy aims. He limits his discussion of the application of seapower to three circumstances of foreign involvement: open, general warfare; that tacitly contained condition of hostilities known as limited warfare; and that fratricidal synonym for civil war, the war of national liberation. Allusion is made in this article to the fact of existence of a large, vigorous, and growing Soviet merchant fleet. That this merchant fleet is an organic arm of the state makes it probable and, perhaps, prudent to suggest that there are larger parameters and other circumstances for the employment of seapower in furtherance of Soviet foreign policy than those so ably dealt with by Commander Cox.
Naval power as exemplified by the naval forces of a nation is only one seaborne tool of foreign policy, but a tool that has several purposes. The protection of merchant shipping on the high seas; elimination of the enemy fleet—merchant and naval; attack on the enemy shoreline; and maintenance of communications are all among these purposes of naval power. Seapower is all of these, but it is also the possession and use of a merchant fleet whose purpose is to carry whatever trade is dictated by the national economy and foreign policy to wherever financial or political commerce may be affected. It is in this larger context that it may be profitable to view the function of seapower as an instrument of Soviet foreign policy.
While general war may be the final point of competition between two powers, their overt or covert participation in limited wars or wars of national liberation are other classes of competition that may be demanded by furthering of their national interests. There is another form of international competition that should be considered as a circumstance of foreign policy—economic competition or economic warfare. Economic warfare has the characteristics of being one of, if not the, most constant point of conflict between nations and the most demanding and obligatory constant of foreign policy. It may then be justified to include economic warfare in the categories of war the Soviets make.
A proportionately large and effective merchant fleet is the first policy controllable requirement for engaging in international economic competiton [sic] and the greatest weapon in that struggle. Within the contexts of seapower and levels of conflict, suggested in this comment, the proportionately large and effective Soviet merchant fleet has served as an effective tool of Soviet foreign policy in limited wars, wars of national liberation, and in economic warfare.
The effectiveness of the Red merchant marine as a cipher in increasing the potential of Soviet foreign policy can be seen in the following example. In 1962, a roofed docking facility to receive Cuban sugar was built at semi-tropical Batumi, where rainfall is frequent and heavy. In that same year at Novorossisk, north of Batumi on the Black Sea coast, a great new oil shipping facility was constructed. One of its central purposes was to facilitate shipment of oil to Havana. By the simple expedient of failing to carry sugar from Cuba to Batumi or to deliver Novorossisk’s oil to Havana, the Soviet merchant fleet has been able to exert pressure, that is: engage in economic warfare.
In the context of the “war of national liberation” being conducted in Vietnam; the Soviet merchant fleet has been able to intervene as an instrument of foreign policy that has achieved several purposes. The discomfiture of the United States has been effectively accomplished by this merchant service that has been able to supply its fellow Communists with the materials of war, while enjoying immunity from American retaliation. Communist China has had its hand removed from the valves of the supply pipeline to North Vietnam by Russia’s offering of an alternate to China’s overland rail supply route. These cheap and effective bottoms of the Red merchantmen have also given North Vietnam foreign policy alternatives it did not enjoy while dependent upon Chinese rails. And, as a result of its sea-borne efforts, Russia has been able to hold itself out as the principal sustainer of socialism against capitalist imperialism in this war and strengthen its claim to world Communist leadership.
It was not the Soviet Mediterranean Squadron or the U. S. Sixth Fleet that effectively prosecuted sea-based foreign policy objectives in and after the June War of 1967. It was rather the Soviet merchant fleet that had carried materials for the Aswan Dam to Egypt and cotton on the homeward voyage prior to carrying arms to the U.A.R. that best furnished seapower to further foreign policy objectives of an interested party. While the Soviet Mediterranean Squadron and U. S. Sixth Fleet could not serve their respective national foreign policy by intervention in the running debacle; Soviet merchantmen retrieved the situation for Russia and Egypt by carrying arms for the rebuilding of Egypt’s forces through the Dardanelles.
The Soviet merchant fleet is the element of seapower possessed by Russia that has the equipment and experience to prosecute effectively much of Russia’s sea-based foreign policy. It appears then that this arm of the state could be viewed currently as the prime instrument of sea-borne Soviet foreign policy short of general war. It would appear then that the U. S. Navy must develop an appreciation and understanding of the alternatives it can employ in neutralizing this tool of Russian design.
Progress Photograph
(See pp. 152-153, August 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Maurice A. Garger, Independent Documentation Consultant—You refer to the position-keeping system of the USNS Mission Capistrano (T-AG-162) as the first. First what? Was it first for the U. S. Navy?
It is certainly not the first in the world. It might be a first for the U. S. Navy. Almost ten years ago, a converted Navy YFNB barge was equipped with four large outboard engines to be used for dynamic positioning. This barge, converted to a floating drilling platform, was owned (and still is) by Global Marine, Inc., of Los Angeles.
This barge, the CUSS I, was being used by the National Science Foundation in Phase I of the Mohole project. The CUSS I successfully cored 600 feet into the ocean bottom in over 11,000 feet of water and maintained her position over the hole by use of an acoustical-electronic positioning system.
In 1967, a highly sophisticated self-propelled drilling vessel was equipped with a dynamic positioning system. This is Global Marine’s, the Glomar Challenger. This craft is currently under contract to Scripps Institution of Oceanography and the National Foundation for use in the Deep Sea Drilling Program. The Glomar Challenger has drilled 2,200 feet into the ocean floor in 17,000 feet of water. Her acoustical-electronic dynamic positioning system has kept her within a 125-foot radius of the hole in 40-knot winds accompanied by 12-foot swells and a 2-knot tidal current. This ship has been in constant use for over a year.
One of the problems with the U. S. Navy is that their firsts turn out to be the world’s last.
“National Strength Through National Service’’
(See J. D. Alden, pp. 68-78, July 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Lieutenant A. K. Johnson, U. S. Navy—Commander Alden’s article reflects some widely-held views about the all-volunteer armed force. But how many of the assumptions that are made are really true?
He, along with many critics of the all-volunteer force, assumes that fear of the draft is all that fills up the Navy and Marine Corps with volunteers, and that no increase in pay and benefits would offset the removal of the draft threat. Also envisioned is “a highly-paid, professional corps of mercenaries.” These concepts do not seem to agree with the present composition of the U. S. Navy and the U. S. Marine Corps.
For every man who was primarily induced to volunteer by fear of the draft, there is at least one other who was enticed by the prospect of travel, adventure, and excitement—one world-wide “fling” before settling down to his life’s work or continuing his education. The numbers volunteering for such reasons would certainly be greatly increased by higher pay, which would remove the greatest drawback to the educational and enjoyable military experience—the fact that it is a money-losing proposition, compared to immediately commencing a civilian career. Pay scales could be increased to the point of making a four-year tour in the military highly desirable as a means of saving for further education, marriage, a start in business, and the like. Increased pay and long-term benefits would certainly create stability by encouraging career men. This would give a much better career/non-career ratio than is enjoyed today, thereby increasing the efficiency of the military. It is doubtful, however, whether the forces would ever become completely “mercenary.”
The recognized benefits of travel and education, coupled with a substantial pay increase, should keep “short time” volunteers coming in at a rate suitable for normal times. During periods of national emergency, it would naturally be necessary to augment the forces by whatever possible means—probably the draft. This has been the traditional means of national defense in most countries throughout history and it seems attainable in our time and country. Certainly, it offers a more desirable alternative to the present inequitable system than a sweeping program of a universal service.
A program such as that proposed by Commander Alden seems to demand service for service’s sake. It also imposes governmental control and administration on areas which are the proper concern of local governments and private industry.
“Your Island Is Moving at 20 Knots!”
(See R. L. Underbrink, pp. 81-87, September 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Stanley L. Falk, Associate Professor, National Security Affairs, Industrial College of the Armed Forces—The author’s exciting and perceptive account, of what may have been the shortest-lived capital ship that ever went to sea, correctly blames the Shinano’s rapid sinking on the poor damage control efforts of her untrained crew as well as on the general failure to achieve watertight security on the unfinished carrier.
There would also appear to have been two other contributing factors. The first was the unshakeable (and obviously unwarranted) confidence of Captain Abe in the Shinano’s supposed unsinkability. This not only made him react tardily to the torpedo hits, as Underbrink points out, but equally important, it led him to reject any thought of heading for the nearest port or even of trying to ground the ship. Perhaps the Shinano would still have gone down at sea; but with a little luck, she might have made the shore or at worst, sunk in water shallow enough to permit refloating her.
A second, perhaps more critical, factor in the sinking of the Shinano was the deliberate decision of the Japanese naval high command to attempt the passage from Yokosuka to Kure at night in an effort to escape discovery by U. S. submarines. Yet, as Underbrink indicates, visibility that night was actually not bad at all, nor had American submarines previously shown any great inability to track their prey after dark. Only a month earlier, the submarines USS Darter (SS-227) and USS Dace (SS-247), patrolling at night in Palawan Passage, had discovered Admiral Kurita’s fleet on its way to Leyte Gulf and had sunk two heavy cruisers with little difficulty. In the case of the Shinano, a better solution for the Japanese might have been to have made the dangerous transit during the day under cover of land-based aircraft. With an aerial escort to scout the way and drive off lurking submarines, the Shinano could have taken a more direct course at high speed, without adopting the slower zig-zag maneuver, and perhaps avoided or outrun the USS Archerfish (SS-331) or any other threat.
The Shinano, incidentally, had apparently spotted the Archerfish not too long after midnight. After some futile efforts to identify this sighting, however, the Japanese executive officer and officer of the deck decided that what their lookouts had seen was only a low-hanging cloud. Accordingly, the carrier modified her zig-zag pattern somewhat, and it was this final maneuver that would seem to have placed the Shinano so fortuitously in perfect target position for the Archerfish at the last moment.
“‘The One Best Way’ to Oblivion?”
(See R. A. Beaumont, pp. 37-41, December 1968 PROCEEDINGS)
Herman S. Frey, Assistant Professor of Commerce, Mclntire School of Commerce, University of Virginia—I must take issue with the statement made by Mr. Beaumont in which he criticizes Frederick W. Taylor, the pioneer of scientific management. The remarks appear to take only a superficial and unfair view of Taylor and indicate a lack of thorough research and knowledge about the man.
There is no indication that the workers at Midvale Steel, where he developed his system, felt threatened by the efforts of Taylor. What the author fails to point out, or is unaware of, is the fact that the Taylor system was exploited by fast-buck artists in other companies and industries. Where Taylor was fair, these others upped the rate of production and called it the Taylor system, which then gave him an undeserved bad name. This caused Congressional investigation, but Taylor’s testimony before the Congressional Committee gives a full disclosure of what he was doing in the area of developing into scientific management what had, before his time, been haphazard management.
In the area of the one best way that Taylor advocated, may I ask what is wrong with seeking the best way? Is it to be damned for a way that is not the best? Did Taylor say that there was only one way to perform without flexibility? Did Taylor say that the status quo must be maintained forever more once a best way had been found? He most certainly did not! As a matter of fact, Taylor was an instigator of change, which he continually practiced as long as he remained active in management.
The title of the article is an association with Taylor in an adverse manner as one best way to oblivion. However, the error committed is in overlooking the fact that Taylor was not a status quo man. He was an innovator, a forward-looking man, a man at least a generation ahead of his time. Without the foundations laid by him, management and industry would not be nearly so advanced.
I hasten to point out that I hope we in management will always continue to take a hard look at the “real implications of Taylorism.” Certainly, he was a pioneer in the area of scientific management and paved the way for improvements to follow, but Taylor is not to be damned. On the contrary, he is to be praised for his contributions. The implications by Mr. Beaumont are that Taylorism was, and is, bad. Nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps the author is confusing inflexibility and refusal to change as being the “one best way” of Taylor. He may also have overlooked the fact that Taylor stated that where a multitude of problems exist with great similarity, men should try to gather these problems into logical groups, and then search for some general laws or rules to guide them in their solution.
I further disagree with Mr. Beaumont’s statement that “Taylor took into account everything but the humanity of the laborer.” Indeed, it was Taylor who really paved the way for the pioneers in human relations.
Let me state that human relations has nothing to do with being benevolent or with Christianity. It is just good business to get better and more efficient production to make and to increase profits. This means that we motivate people in organizations to develop teamwork.
Contrary to the author’s belief, Taylor believed in a fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work. He believed that when the company made a substantial profit, the worker should have a bonus and should receive an increase in salary without having to ask for it. He believed in resting workers to get better output. At Midvale, he rested workers 50 per cent of the time, and the workers loaded 2½ times as much pig iron. He believed in being fair, and that management should co-operate with the workers. He believed that there was a place for every man in the organization, and if good performance was not forthcoming, a misplaced man should be put where he could perform better. He believed in the “exception principle.” He believed in functional foremen instead of the jack-of-all-trades foremen.
All of this relates to the human element and are practiced today. These and other areas were those instituted by Taylor, and fit into the human relations area. I hasten to point out that although Taylor was doing all of these and more, he was doing what he thought was good management without any awareness, at that time, of any such label as human relations. This came about much later. The point is that whether he knew the applied name we use or not, he was practicing human relations with the workers.
I can only conclude that Mr. Beaumont, in writing his article, was misinformed and has not properly researched the area. This is another incident of unjustified lack of recognition of Taylor because of a lack of thorough knowledge about the man.
Roger A. Beaumont—The arguments over Taylorism, as Professor Frey suggests, have much to do with one’s basic values. One could quote Taylor and his critics in a lengthy exegesis, e.g., Taylor’s own highly cautious view of the nature of “legitimate invention.”
But fundamentally, the question centers around values. It is interesting to see the rejection by Professor Frey of Christianity and benevolence as operative factors in the rationale of “human relations,” a euphemism for group-think in many respects. Does this rejection and the substitution of the criterion of “good business” mean that if the lash and the goad were indeed more effective, that they would be justified if they produced higher output?
The professor’s definition of organizational effectiveness would apply to the SS, the Assassin cult, and the Kamikaze Attack Corps. In short, where do the values come in? Or is man a mere variable equation?
Efficiency per se is a fragile and delicate concept, and has been too often used as a mask for bureaucratic expansionism, authoritarianism—and just plain greed.
“Aide and Comfort to the Admiral”
(See W. D. Toole, Jr., pp. 46-49, September 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Lieutenant Colonel W. G. Leftwich, Jr., U. S. Marine Corps—As a one-time member of the dubious fraternity so cleverly described by Captain Toole, I thoroughly enjoyed the article. However, I should like to offer one minor rebuttal. Captain Toole states that “nowhere in history do we find a famous aide.”
I submit that there are a few instances in which aides have emerged from their traditional anonymity. The Comte de Segur, Napoleon’s aide during the Russian campaign, wrote a book that is still in print about that ill-fated venture. Colonel Charles Marshall faithfully served Robert E. Lee throughout his tenure as Commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, and as few people know, rode dutifully behind his famous Chief down the sad path to Appomattox Court House.
The “ADC” who might well have exerted influence on history, was a little-known captain named Richard Nolan who served Lord Raglan, Commander of the British Forces in the Crimea. Nolan, in addition to possessing the other attributes required by commanders of that day, was also an expert horseman—a qualification now, fortunately, outdated. Lord Raglan handed Nolan the famous order for the Light Brigade to advance and instructed him to carry it down a precipitous slope to where Lord Cardigan and his cavalry were waiting. Nolan made a breathtaking plunge and presented the order to Lord Cardigan, who uncharacteristically questioned the location of its objective. Nolan, no admirer of Cardigan, pointed dramatically and incorrectly down the valley to the massed Russian artillery and exclaimed “There, my Lord, is your enemy, and there, are your guns.” This was enough to launch one of history’s most tragic episodes.
Nolan, who then joined one of the lead regiments, soon rode again toward Lord Cardigan as if to correct the errant direction of advance. Whether or not he might have changed the path of history we shall never know, for he was killed instantly by a shell splinter.
Fortunately, modern day Aides rarely hold men’s lives in their hands as did Nolan. Their miscues, as Captain Toole describes, are more often noted, although conspicuously, only by their bosses.
(See H. N. Lyon, pp. 35-43, July; and pp. 108-110, December 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Wyatt E. Barnes—General Lyon’s thesis is wrong for two reasons: (1) he saddles his young officer with too much insurance, of the wrong kind, too early in his career; and (2) in an age destructive of dollar buying power, his plan is based on fixed-dollar amounts.
We must think rigorously about insurance and not just regard it as “the thing to do.” It has only one real purpose—to make essential provision for a breadwinner’s dependents. The key words are “essential” and “dependents.” Relatively lavish financial provision must not be made, for its costs will be an excessive burden on the family while the breadwinner is alive. As for “dependents,” the test is what is needed to enable the survivors to continue as a viable family unit. If the wife is capable of earning a reasonable living and if there are no children, the breadwinner’s death would make no serious financial difference. The need for more than minimal insurance is doubtful.
Let us look at the plan’s features. The officer is unmarried and 22 when he enters service. He takes his Serviceman’s Group Life Insurance (SGLI) of $10,000 since it is virtually a gift. Why does he need $20,000 of ordinary life? He does not even have a beneficiary. He needs no more insurance even when he marries at 24. His SGLI, six-month gratuity, Social Security, and VA benefits, combine to give his widow about $13,500. She would be better off than before she married. But General Lyon now has him buy another $10,000 of ordinary life. The $1,232.52 that this would cost over three years should be saved.
When he is 25, his first child is born and the need for more insurance has arrived. Remembering our definition of the purpose of insurance, he wants to buy protection only. The definition has no room for other features of insurance, such as savings, that really have nothing to do with insurance at all. Yet this feature is so firmly linked with the insurance concept that most do not realize its alien character. Protection means term insurance. Ordinary life is protection plus compulsory savings, the latter being the difference between the cost of protection and the premium. This accumulating difference is the so-called cash value of a policy.
Does the officer need a compulsory savings program? No, since he is assumed to earmark 15 per cent of his pay for insurance and savings throughout his career. Does the program, compulsory or not, offer advantages over other savings methods? There are none whatever. Interest paid on policyholders’ cash values are the lowest anywhere, not more than 4 per cent and usually less. This is less than U. S. bonds and bank interest, and little more than half that available on top-grade corporate bonds. Can the officer draw on his cash value if an emergency comes? No, not without canceling the policy and losing the protection. He can borrow up to 95 per cent of his money at 5 per cent interest, but if he dies before repayment, his death benefits are reduced by the loan, plus unpaid interest.
The fact that ordinary life premiums never rise is cited as a major advantage. It is true enough, but it is an illusion. For as cash values grow, they diminish actual protection by an equal amount. For example, General Lyon’s Contract #1 for $20,000 has a cash value of $7,742 after 20 years. The heirs will get $20,000 if he dies, but since $7,742 of this is his own money, his actual coverage is only $12,258. He is paying the same premium at 42 as at 22, but at 22 he is buying $20,000 of insurance, at 42 $12,258.
The second error in General Lyon’s plan is that it is based on fixed-dollar amounts, as an insurance-funded plan must be. Over a period of years, there will almost certainly be a loss of purchasing power disastrous to those depending upon fixed-dollar balances. So the article’s schedules have doubtful long-term value. For example, the widow would get $282.70 from cash-value funding if the officer died after 26 years’ service. But what will that buy in 1995? There is a risk in holding cash. The risk is concealed by the deceptive precision of figures preceded by a dollar sign.
Let me outline briefly my own “Plan for All Seasons”:
At age 25, the officer takes $20,000 guaranteed renewable term for $8.33 a month through age 30, rising at five-year intervals to $25 a month when he retires at 52. He adds $20,000 more when the second child arrives. His costs are now $16.67 a month through 30, scaling up to $50 a month at retirement.
His program is complete. He has $40,000 guaranteed renewable term plus his $10,000 SGLI. If he dies at 26, his wife will have $50,000. She will have another $7,000 in cleanup funds and inherited savings from the first four service years. She will have $524 a month from non-insurance sources and $250 from the $50,000, placed at a conservative 6 per cent, as well as the $7,000 reserve. Since his base pay was $741 a month, her $774 income would be quite comparable.
We have given the family fully adequate protection, whose cost starts low and rises as income rises. We have released large sums from an unproductive savings program to one rewarding to the family, rather than to the insurance company. As the officer’s career advances, these premium savings become substantial. Figure 1 compares the premiums, by age groups.
Age |
Ordinary |
Term Premiums |
Savings |
---|---|---|---|
22-25 |
$ 1,949.16 |
$ 100.00 |
$ 1,846.16 |
26-30 |
4,511.40 |
1,000.00 |
3,511.40 |
31-35 |
4,511.40 |
1,100.00 |
3,411.40 |
36-40 |
4,511.40 |
1,200.00 |
3,311.40 |
41-45 |
4,511.40 |
1,600.00 |
2,911.40 |
46-50 |
4,511.40 |
2,000.00 |
2,511.40 |
51-52 |
1,804.56 |
1,200.00 |
604.56 |
Totals |
$26,307.72 |
$8,200.00 |
$18,107.72 |
Having served their protective purpose, the policies would lapse at retirement. The savings would remain. Compounded at 5 per cent, the $18,107.72 would become about $45,000 at age 52; at 6 per cent, the total would be over $50,000. His other savings—that portion of the 15 per cent set aside not earmarked for insurance—would be even greater. Compounded at 5 per cent, that sum at age 52 would be about $67,000; at 6 per cent, it would come to nearly $80,000.
The plan, of course, could be refined. In view of his rapid accumulation of premium savings, and the even more formidable accretion of other savings, he could let some insurance lapse when, say, his premium savings reach face amounts. At about age 40, premium savings would pass $20,000, compounded at 5 per cent. His first $20,000 policy would lapse, since adequate coverage is now present from his own resources. At 49, compounded premium savings would reach $40,000; thereupon, his second $20,000 policy would lapse. Both steps would release additional premium savings.
This is what can be done if insurance is properly understood. However, I have spoken in terms of fixed-dollar balances throughout, only to stress the comparison between the costs of different types of insurance, and to show the dramatic compounding effects of premium savings. Actually, to combat inflation and to build substantial retirement funds, the officer should plan defensively and aggressively at the same time. That is to say, he must invest.
Personal investment is complex and I cannot go into it thoroughly. Once a cash fund of $1,000 or so is established, all the 15 per cent set-aside, less insurance premiums, should go into a long-term investment program. One-third should go into one or two good quality growth stocks, and two-thirds into two established, growth-oriented mutual funds via a regular accumulation plan.
Since securities do not have the predictability of savings passbooks, performance is impossible to forecast. But statistical data, including studies going back over 40 years, suggest that a long-term growth rate of 10-15 per cent annually is a reasonable, probably conservative, expectation. There will be years of much superior performance, and years of negative showings. But the long-term record counts, and a 15 per cent growth can deliver a formidable showing.
The officer would not really need advice. With a little study, he could be his own investment counsellor. However, sound professional advice is available. Brokers who started in recent years with large firms undergo a rigorous training program, comparable with that of a Chartered Life Underwriter (CLU), whom General Lyon extols. CLUs, however, compose only about 4 per cent of all life insurance agents.
As his capital increases, the officer can be flexible. Convertible bonds, currently offering up to 8 per cent plus substantial appreciation potential, as well as more sophisticated, and more profitable, devices, are available. Real estate should not be overlooked. Land contracts, with 12 per cent yields and good protection, are possibilities.
Money can work wonders for a career officer if properly employed. It can provide protection and also build a modest fortune.
Commander Arthur W. Gregory, Jr., U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)—To quote from General Lyon’s article:
It is to be hoped that one day a comparable [to CLU] indicator will mark the competent investment counsellor.
Having been in the securities business for nearly 40 years, I would agree that there is a place in a military man’s estate planning for carefully selected equity investments. There are also many competent investment counsellors.
For many years, The Financial Analysts Federation worked on a program for qualifying members of its individual societies to be just that. This effort culminated in 1959 with the creation of the Institute of Chartered Financial Analysts, associated with the University of Virginia at Charlottesville, Virginia. The first C.F.A. (Chartered Financial Analyst) designations—similar to the CLU mentioned in the article—were awarded, after a thorough written examination, in September 1963. Since that time there have been 2,243 C.F.A. designations awarded.
J. Page Dowden—The article is good financial advice so long as the author uses Social Security benefits as the primary base upon which supplementary plans are built. However, in the concluding paragraphs, sophistical references to the fiscal management of Social Security may mislead many readers. As one with an interest in basic economics and an appreciation of a philosophy of history I offer these remarks.
When Social Security was first proposed, there were many who favored the accumulation of an invested capital fund sufficient to make the insurance actuarially sound. Estimates of the fund eventually required, was equal to 25 per cent or more of the capitalized value of the entire economy of the United States. It exceeded the value of outstanding stocks of all companies traded on the New York and American Exchanges. Powerful conservative financial interests vigorously opposed this plan and the present fiscal management procedure was agreed upon as a compromise, the main argument being that since taxes are a prior lien over dividends, it was not necessary to own the corporations to insure having their earnings available to the fund when required. Corporation earnings could be taxed to extinction, (100 per cent) if necessary.
The magnitude and the scope of the coverage originally authorized by the Congress has been changed many times, and the procedure for fiscal management of the Fund can likewise be changed. Self-employed professions, owners of small businesses, and company executives are now included in the plan. Government, state, municipal, and private pension funds, and the military retirement are being integrated into the system. In the near future, the entire electorate will have a primary and vested interest in the system. The political reality of this is that Social Security has become part of the American way of life and is a major part of the financial integrity and stability of the U. S. Government. It is for these reasons that Social Security cannot fail, and is therefore, within the limits offered, basically sounder than any private pension plan.
“The Naval Chaplaincy”
(See R. H. Warren, pp. 54-60, August 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Reverend Donald Y. Swain, Minister, Westminster Presbyterian Church, Bakersfield, California—The full page picture on page 54 of the church flag flying above the U. S. flag was taken on board the USS Barnes (CVE-20) during World War II, while I was chaplain on board that ship. Upon seeing it, I rushed to the storage closet where reposed the original of the photograph taken by Lieutenant Richard Saunders, U. S. Navy, the ship’s photographic officer.
Thanks for the refreshing old memories, and congratulations to Commander Warren for an excellent article.
A Halfway Measure
Commander Tyrone G. Martin, U.S. Navy—On 22 August 1969, Secretary of the Navy John Chaffee announced the details of action being taken by the Navy to achieve budget savings as a part of Secretary of Defense Laird’s economy program. Seventy-six of what would later become more than 100 ships designated for retirement were identified. “Retirement” was categorized as mothballing, Naval Reserve assignments replacing still older units, or, for some, scrapping. The average age of this group of ships was reported as being 24.6 years, with two-thirds of them, in fact, actually more than 25 years old.
Almost a month later, while speaking at Chicago’s Executive Club, Secretary Chaffee defended these actions when he said:
We believe it is wiser for the future of our country to have a smaller, less capable Navy now and to take the savings and invest them in research and development and production of the types of weapons, ships, and planes we might need to fight an enemy in the 1970s or 1980s.
While the retirement of these ships undoubtedly will realize some savings for the Navy, it appears that, however dramatic the action may be, it is only a halfway measure. It is removing a number of ships from the active fleet, and then mothballing or otherwise retaining most of them—and it leaves the Reserve Fleet untouched.
According to unofficial records, there are some 135 destroyers commissioned in 1945 or earlier still on the rolls. About 50 of these belong to the Benson-Livermore classes, whose designs date from the mid-1950s. The first units were laid down in 1938 and commissioned in 1940. A few of these served through the Korean War as fast minesweepers, but generally they have been in mothballs since the end of World War II. Thirty feet shorter than the ubiquitous Fletchers, these ships have received no updating in nearly a quarter century.
Of the destroyer’s warborn junior partner, the destroyer escort, there are believed to be about 175 still around—most taking up pier space in Reserve Fleet Groups. Generally under 1,500 tons displacement and about 306 feet in length, these hastily-constructed ships could not cope with modern submarines. In addition to inadequate sensors and weapons, about which something might be done if required, these ships lack the speed necessary to engage today’s undersea adversary.
These two groups make up the largest segment of obsolete ships in our Fleet. While the number could be increased by addressing other areas—the mine warfare forces, auxiliaries, and the like—the foregoing data provide an adequate example of the scope of the U.S. Navy’s obsolescence.
Since World War II, the size of individual ship types has grown steadily.
Larger hulls are required to carry the newer, more sophisticated weapons systems and their associated control devices, as well as more effective sensors. This equipment, in turn, has required larger sources of power for proper functioning. The result has been “frigates” and some destroyers that, in earlier times, would have been designated cruisers, as well as DEs as large as Hull-class destroyers.
In his introduction to the 1969-1970 Jane’s Fighting Ships, Editor Raymond V. B. Blackman states:
Most of the U.S. aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, escorts, and mine-sweepers, refitted or not, are a quarter of a century old. War potential though they could still just be, they are becoming a liability.
The English are masters of the understatement.
Our Reserve Fleet has been a liability for many years. Originally conceived as a ready source of naval power in the uncertain days following World War II, its very numbers lulled those controlling the purse strings into a false sense of security. As much as they strove to impress their listeners with the specter of mass obsolescence, naval leaders could not overcome the popular image of the silent sentinels, just waiting the call to national defense like so many Minutemen. The position we find ourselves in today is the result of this inertia and inattention. Not without good reason has the Chief of Naval Operations publicly stated:
I believe our aircraft carriers are the key to our present superiority. With too few, or none in our Fleet, the Soviets would probably be the leading naval power.
The carriers are a ship-type where we barely have been able to keep abreast of the times in a Fleet where almost 60 per cent of the ships are over 20 years old.
In this light, perhaps what we should be doing is eliminating our largely phantom reserve so that the picture will be clear to everyone. One way would be to arbitrarily put everything on the block that is 25 years old or older. Establish selling prices and dispose of as many units as quickly as possible, and then sell the remainder for scrap. The arbitrary age date might have to be waived in certain instances, in consideration of present requirements, but the Benson-Livermores and the old DEs could be cleared out in toto. This would eliminate the overhead costs required for their continued existence, and release shore facilities for more productive usage or disposal. Such an action is an admittedly drastic one, but it is certainly in keeping with the philosophy enunciated by Secretary Chaffee.
The reserve fleets of the American merchant marine, which once numbered thousands of hulls, today have dwindled to a few hundred. The days for these remaining hulls are also undoubtedly numbered. As difficult as it is, the Navy should rid itself of those ships which can contribute little or nothing to our security today, and invest in an immediate refurbishment in the near future.
Old Navy—“The U. S. Monitor Patapsco”
(See E. K. Thompson, pp. 148-149, December 1968; pp. 116-117, April; and pp. 114-115, June 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Charles W. Schedel, Jr.—In his comments on “The U. S. Monitor Patapsco” Captain Packard tends to give the impression that the USS Keokuk was the monitor-type ironclad. Although the Keokuk strongly resembled some of the later twin-turret monitors, she was officially classified as a twin-tower ironclad, since she carried her two 11-inch Dahlgren guns in separate stationary gun-houses, or towers as they were then called, instead of in revolving turrets like the monitors.
The Keokuk had the dubious distinction of being the only Union ironclad to be sunk by enemy gunfire during the war, although others were lost to mines, or torpedoes as they were then called, ramming, and various non-combat causes. The loss of the Keokuk was largely attributed to her unique design which employed alternate bars of wood and iron for armor.
“Men in the Middle”
(See J. M. Purtell, pp. 61-69, August; and pp. 107-108, December 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain J. K. Taussig, Jr., U. S. Navy (Retired)—Some of us who are properly classed as the “Old Fuds” are in full accord with his thesis. Today, and in fact since World War II, the proper preparation for the ultimate speciality in the military services—command—has been far more involved in management than in the technical pursuits.
Unfortunately, too many of the Old Fuds have failed to appreciate the violent changeovers dictated by extrapolating technical advances. For example: When the class of 1969 was sworn in at the Naval Academy, there was not a single flag officer in the Navy who had received his bachelor’s degree in engineering at a time when there were such things as digital computers, nuclear propulsion, or guided missiles. Not one vice admiral had received his engineering degree when there were such things as radar, VT fuzes, supersonic aircraft, or even 20-mm. guns.
Prior to World War II, the professional officers corps had to provide much of the “engineering input” to the profession, and we prided ourselves on our “engineering degree.” Today—and for nearly 30 years, now—we have continued the unsound practice of trying to vector the brightest young officers into technical specialities in postgraduate courses, when what is obviously required are men who can manage the tools of the trade, not “develop” them.
Fortunately, there has been a slow awakening to some of the problems at the Naval Academy, but not a great deal. Michelson Hall is a source of pride to all Navy people, but it is a monument to the insistence that “science” is still more important to the professional naval officer than the ability to command an extremely complex organization of which science is but a component. The disciplines of science are so varied that mastery over one, precludes mastery over many others of equal importance.
Programs such as the Trident Scholarships and the Burke Program are admirable for developing a Ph.D. in the sciences, but they preclude our brightest Midshipmen from ever commanding anything larger than a specialized laboratory. Unfortunately, the Navy’s investment in facilities and postgraduate colleges is a tempting cover to the realities pointed out by Commander Purtell. Far better, we should insist on at least four years of “professional” sea duty pursuits by our young officers. This would then be followed by an insistence on postgraduate training in the management arts and then the command arts, after these young people have had a chance to absorb the realities of the military complex for a few years.
Certainly, Midshipmen should be taught the fundamental laws of physics and mathematical sciences used in command. However, I doubt that any commanding officer has ever worked a triple integration problem in pursuit of his profession; a solitary chemical analysis of anything; dwelt on the philosophy of quantum mechanics; or worried about such mundane technical things as “farads” “coulombs,” or “henries.” Trigonometry—yes; even a few hours of spherical trigonometry.
Money, budgets, availability schedules, personnel administration, geo-politics, organization, military and international law, and even strategy and tactics, are far more apropos subjects for command today. Yet, there is not one structured course at the Naval Academy, save for the conglomerate knowledge imparted by the Department of English, History, and Government, which even approaches these subjects on a scientific basis.
With an over-all officer attrition rate exceeding 92 per cent within five years of first commissioning, and approaching 40 per cent even in Naval Academy graduates within eight years, it is high time we “Old Fuds” started a little objective introspection into the system that we held so dear when we were Young Studs.
Mrs. William H. Conley, Jr.—As the wife of a naval officer, I am very interested in the Navy and what it offers for the future.
Not only did Commander Purtell show an acute awareness of the problem, he offered some sound solutions. But . . . it is generally easier to prevent problems than it is to solve them.
If the Navy offered its junior officers more comprehensive career counseling, some of the expressed situations would resolve themselves before becoming problems. If the junior officers’ potentials were more carefully analyzed and interpreted, the young officers would better be able to fulfill themselves, and in turn benefit the Navy as a whole.
[1] See D. H. Guinn, “A Master’s Degree Program for Student Naval Aviators,” pp. 37-41, February 1969 PROCEEDINGS.
[2] See A. Sutton, “The Soviet Merchant Marine,” pp. 34-43; and “Western Origins of Soviet Marine Diesel Engines,” pp. 115-130, this issue PROCEEDINGS.