“Naval Air Training: A Change is Needed”
(See D. R. Wright, pp. 113-117, February; and p. 84, November 1970; p. 83, January; p. 89, February; and p. 92, March 1971 Proceedings)
Lieutenant William B. Young, U. S. Navy—I cannot agree with Captain Culbertson’s idea in the November 1970 issue, to revive the naval aviation cadet (NavCad) program. This is not to degrade the ex-NavCads who are aviators today, but rather to urge that we draw future inputs from a high level. Of course, the dropout rate was low among NavCads—the “alternative” was to go “blackshoe” at once, as an E-2 (seaman apprentice), if a student left the flight program; this might help “retention” on paper, but it would be an excuse to avoid upgrading training and facilities to meet the needs of the college-educated officer student.
NavCads were second-class citizens—they had “no wife or children to worry about,” because they were not allowed to have them, and they “cost the Navy less to train,” because they were not officers drawing officers’ pay. If the Navy really wants talent, it must gear up to where the talent is. In these days of the universal B.A., why recruit dropouts to man ever-more-complex aircraft? Later on, the ex-NavCad must return to school just to get his baccalaureate degree, and then perhaps never have a chance at further education if “needs of the service” interfere.
The air training program must rid itself of old-Navy “hurry up and wait” fits and starts, and facilities and services must accommodate more young married officers, whose retention after four years may be decided by so small a matter as the quality of medical care at Meridian when they were just beginning a career and a family.
The new naval aviator must have some assurance that he will fly when he gets his wings; one unhappy junior aviator on combat readiness training (CRT) can be a more effective counter-recruiter than all the “fly your own jet” advertising can overcome. Just knowing that a gray aluminum aircraft, instead of a gray steel desk, awaits the recipient of a new set of wings will bring out truer “tiger blood” in an officer student who is motivated by the promise of a challenging and exciting future in naval air, than the “tiger blood” of a cadet student whose alternative is considerably less than desirable—one has positive motivation, the other merely an approach-avoidance decision.
Captain R. K. Culbertson, U. S. Naval Reserve, Executive Officer, Naval Air Reserve Training Unit, Norfolk—I did not suggest reviving the NavCad program per se, but a program similar to that or aviation midshipman program. There were good and bad points to each, so I would suggest a program that incorporates the better points, eliminates the undesirable, and includes the addition of others.
The principal objection to the NavCad program might be that it was not career-oriented. It was not so intended. It provided a rapid means of training military aviators to fly in combat. It was not designed to make captains or admirals. An ex-NavCad who became career-oriented after commissioning had two avenues to select from if he entertained any hope of competing—he could return to college after completing his active duty obligation, obtain a degree, and then apply for recall and augmentation, or he could try for the five-semester college or undergraduate program and then request augmentation. Neither avenue offered very favorable odds.
On the plus side, the NavCad program was inexpensive. The cost of any college education was borne by the NavCad, his pay and upkeep were nominal, he had no dependents to support or worry about, and if he was separated from the program by desire or through inaptitude, he benefited the Fleet with a period of obligated active duty. He was normally younger than the average college graduate, less opinionated, and easier disciplined and trained. NavCad applicants could be processed from the enlisted as well as the civilian community, thereby providing another avenue of advancement for the enlisted man. Because of his relative youth and lack of immediate family responsibilities, and faced with the prospect of obligated enlisted time, should he bilge out, his motivation and competitive spirit were usually high. Upon designation, he was commissioned U. S. Naval Reserve and provided a ready source of material for the Naval Air Reserve after fulfilling his active duty obligation.
The aviation midshipman program of the late 1940s had one glaring fault—it provided two years of Navy-sponsored college education and a maximum of two years flight training as a midshipman with no obligation to the individual. Many took advantage of this flaw and voluntarily dropped from the program after completing two years of free education. Others completed various stages of flight training before dropping, some even dropping just prior to designation. Happily, the country received a partial return from this investment when the draft got hot and inducted some into the Army during the Korean involvement.
On the positive side, the aviation midshipman program was only slightly more expensive than the NavCad program. While in college, the prospective midshipman received books, tuition, and $50.00 a month subsistence. No college major was specified, but required courses had to include two years of English, one year of physics, and one year of math (algebra and trigonometry).
After reporting to Pensacola and appointment as a midshipman, the student received $75 per month before gaining flight status and $112.50 thereafter. An individual was required to spend two years as a midshipman prior to being commissioned. Most received their wings and were in Fleet squadrons when commissioning occurred. A few midshipmen even ended up in combat early in the Korean War. Once commissioned, the ex-midshipman had two career avenues available. After one year of commissioned service, he could apply for permanent status as a regular officer and obtain his degree under the five-semester college program or he could be recommissioned in the Naval Reserves, complete his obligated service, and return to college under Navy sponsorship for his degree. Many who selected the latter became career Naval Air Reservists and have been recalled on several occasions. Some who were recalled eventually augmentated or became training and administration elements of the Naval Reserve (TAR) officers.
The aviation midshipman, being younger than the average college graduate, was also less opinionated and more easily trained and disciplined. Possibly because of this and the fact that he had no immediate family responsibilities, his interest, motivation, and competitive spirit were high. This esprit was further enhanced by his unusual status and the feeling, whether justified or not, that he was in a rather select group. Having taken certain required “hard” subjects in college, he usually had fewer academic problems than the NavCad.
In comparison with career NROTC graduates, the career ex-aviation midshipman has done well. Very few have not made commander. Many have made captain, several by deep selection. Some will undoubtedly attain flag rank.
A suggested program which would incorporate the better points of both programs and include the addition of others is outlined as follows:
Aim our recruitment at the unmarried high school senior, and require him to remain unmarried until commissioned. Give him two years of subsidized college education, and permit a choice of majors, but make certain courses mandatory. Next, send him through flight training. After designation and commissioning, send him to the Fleet for four years in a flying billet. Then detail him to college for his remaining two years to obtain a degree. After graduation, consider him for augmentation. Those selected and accepting would have as good a chance to compete careerwise as their regular NROTC trained contemporaries. Those not selected for augmentation and those selected but declining would be detailed back to the Fleet for two additional years. They could then be released from active duty, extend, or request a TAR designation. The program should include a provision whereby qualified enlisted personnel and college students with the required educational background could also apply. Finally, have all applicants selected for this program execute a contract which would require varying amounts of active enlisted time if separated from the program, voluntary or involuntary, prior to designation and commissioning. The amount of obligation would be based on the amount of government subsidized education and training an individual had received at the time of separation (i.e., two years of obligation for each year or portion thereof of education and training received might be appropriate).
I believe the appeal of this program, even to today’s youth, would be high. Offer this to the type of young man we want and need in naval aviation and he will respond, regardless of the generation. It certainly had appeal to youngsters during the Louis Johnson era when the draft threat was nil and the economy was relatively good. I do not say that it would be free from the effects of an unpopular, no-win war such as we find ourselves in today, but it would certainly be affected to a lesser degree than the aviation officer candidate/naval officer-candidate (AOC/NAOC) program. As for youth versus effective combat pilots, one has only to look to the Israeli Air Force for an answer. They begin recruiting their pilots at the age of 17.
While a college degree is essential to the career officer and graduate degrees highly desirable, neither is required to produce a proficient combat aviator. I fail to see how a degree can be considered essential to the making of a naval aviator. A quick glance through any college catalog will affirm that few majors, besides engineering require courses after the second year which would be technically beneficial to a student pilot of first-tour aviator. A broader educational background is certainly a requirement if an officer is to cope effectively with the increasing challenge afforded through career promotion, but this is not so for the junior or first-tour naval aviator. The requirements of our most sophisticated aircraft can be met handily by those with a good comprehension of physics, math, and English, subjects normally taken during the first two years of college. With regard to the Navy gearing up where the talent is, the “universal B.A degree” has certainly not given either the surface or aviation officer the most desirable educational background. AOC selection is supposedly made on the “whole man concept;” however, you will find that students having majors in engineering and physical education have the least percentage of flight failures. As the student officer, commissioning no more makes a naval officer than a medical degree makes a doctor. Each attests to the fact that the recipient has met the basic qualifications of a profession. Only through professional application, growth, and continual learning can one earn the respect due the title. During his formative years, should the stress not be placed on the naval aviator first and the naval officer second?
The sorry record of the AOC/NAOC program over the last several years with regard to students who drop out at their own request (DOR), can be attributed primarily to:
(a) Draft-motivated graduates desiring to enter officer candidate school (OCS) (because of less active duty obligation) and applying for AOC/NAOC due to limited OCS openings. Once commissioned, they may quit flight training, received an 1105 or 1355 designator, and an earlier release from active duty (RAD) date.
(b) Many reported to Pensacola with a new car, a new wife, and possibly a new baby. The transition from civilian life to an intensive military aviation training environment, coupled with their new responsibilities, was more than they could cope with and out they went. The quality of dependent medical care as well as quarters might have been added factors which is another argument for the unmarried student.
(c) Project 703—once it was discovered that an individual could quit, be released from active duty, and gain draft immunity, the DOR rate soared.
In summation, this program would provide applicants who are young enough to train without having to brainwash or coddle, have no distractors such as wife and family, and have the desired educational background. For education and training received, we bind them with a reasonable obligation, we train them in the manner desired, we give them a four-year taste of Fleet duty, then we provide the final wherewithal which will permit them to compete careerwise as either a regular officer or Naval Air Reservist.
Finally, I am in complete agreement regarding the desirability of getting the new naval aviator into a flying billet. It is incredible to spend 200,000 tax dollars training an aviator and then strap him to a desk for the next two or three years. Had this happened to me or to many of my contemporaries 20 years ago, our active Navy affiliation would have been terminated on our RAD dates.
A newly-designated naval aviator assigned “feedback” duties recently summed it all up very nicely, when asked by a group of college men how he liked flying and naval aviation, by saying, “Well, it sure beats anything you can do with clothes on.”
“The Quiet Crisis in the Silent Service”
(See T. B. Thamm, pp. 50-58, August 1971 Proceedings)
Captain Frank W. Allcorn, III, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)—The August Proceedings was one of the most outstanding. Particularly interesting was the article by Captain Thamm on the Submarine Service problems.
Having been a member of that service and an officer in World War II, and serving with such great skippers as Red Ramage and John Tyree, it occurred to me that the comparison made may not be only applied to the silent service, but may be a view of a great problem which has been caused throughout the Navy and other institutes by our modern “sophisticated specialization.”
“Piloting Techniques”
(See L. P. Pellock, pp. 99-100, February; and p. 92, June 1971 Proceedings)
Tobin N. Gerhart—Harvard University Graduate Student—Commander Pellock’s formula for d/s, as stated, is not correct. The correct formula is:
d/s = cot θ /2
Figure 1 on the same page is a very special case, which probably led to the wrong formula. The formula given by Commander Pellock applies only to a special horizontal angle (θ = 60°). In a similar manner, his Figure 1 also applies only to this special case.
“A Future for the Destroyer?”
(See W. J. Ruhe, pp. 33-38, August 1971 Proceedings)
Captain George P. Sotos, U. S. Navy—As a destroyerman, let me suggest that the scenario from which Captain Ruhe’s destroyer of the future emerges has holes in it as big as a destroyer herself. The effectiveness of the destroyer escort (DE) in World War II was the result of skilled crews, simple weapons, over-the-water air coverage that paralyzed U-boat surface mobility, tremendous shore-based intelligence, a busy antisubmarine warfare scene, and a long war. Of all these, the skill and confidence of the crews was the factor that made the DE the ASW ship she was. By contrast, there is a colossal lack of confidence on the part of most DD skippers today in the “one-for-one” situation (one DD against one submarine). I would suggest that this condition (and Captain Ruhe mentions it) stems more from inexperience and shortsighted training measures than it does from ship hull types and a shortage of sophisticated weapons systems.
Am I really suggesting a lack of appreciation for what ASW is “all about” on the part of those who have been influencing the design of our DDs since World War II? Quite candidly, that is exactly my viewpoint. Let me present some evidence for it.
Just after World War II ended, three Atlantic Fleet DEs, USS Willis (DE-395), USS Swenning (DE-394), USS Cockrill (DE-398), of Escort Squadron 51 found themselves attached to Commander Submarine Squadron Three in Guam and working out with his Pacific Fleet combat veterans USS Blenny (SS-324), USS Blower (SS-325), USS Blueback (SS-326), USS Charr (SS-328), USS Redfish (SS-395), USS Segundo (SS-398), and USS Sea Cat (SS-399). During this period (from September 1945 to February 1946), which included a very realistic at sea “war game” cruise, it became clear to the DE skippers that putting it all together—tactics, equipment, and experience in ASW—our submarines were dead ducks for the DEs, in a “one-for-one” situation, a “down-the-throat” situation, a “wolf pack” situation, or in any situation. This view seemed shared by all the submarine skippers and their commanders. It is expressed clearly in a cruise report sent to Commander Submarine Force, U. S. Pacific Fleet by Commander Submarine Squadron 3 on 30 December 1945. The tenor of that report is one of surprise at the ASW skills of the DEs. As the screen commander of the DEs, I, and the other skippers in turn, was also surprised. We had expected a much higher appreciation of and respect for the surface unit capabilities.
My conclusion, then, underscored by the long line of battered destroyers we had seen limping back to the United States, was that the Pacific Fleet Destroyer Force, which should have engendered and passed that respect to our submarine skippers, did not do so. Too busy fighting another type of war, they never did have the time to really learn, practice, and gain confidence in ASW. While we in the Atlantic were fortunate not to ever have our anti-air skills so tested, the fact remains that ASW was not the Pacific Fleet destroyerman’s particular bag.
In the years since World War II, most, if not all, of our DD leadership has been from the ranks of World War II Pacific Fleet destroyermen. Their precision fire control philosophy for surface and anti-air warfare has dominated their view of antisubmarine warfare. Unfortunately, because of the ever-mushy and very imprecise input to the underwater ASW fire control system, it is really not much of a system. With all tactics and training oriented by systems that fall short of delivering the payoff, it is not surprising that our surface units seem to lack confidence in their individual ASW abilities.
I do agree with Captain Ruhe that the economics of the situation require a “systems analysis.” But I submit that the parameters for this “systems study” have a much greater scope than implied by him. They must cover all of ASW and not just the destroyer shipbuilding characteristics. The destroyer objectives should be developed as a sub-set of the wider objectives of ASW at the national level including the purpose of ASW itself. Until we go through this process and keep the process itself dynamic, we are hacking at the problem, not developing solutions.
I am aware that our different plans already contain “objectives,” but what I am suggesting is a searching analysis of these objectives to breathe some new life into the process and ensure its relevancy to the wider ASW problem. Let me give several examples.
If we were to cast about in an effort to locate a national stockpile of goods and materials for emergency use in the event of nuclear warfare, would not the fingertip control of the complete inventory of all cargo afloat in U. S. bottoms be a significant (and mobile) component of that stockpile?
If we were to cast about to develop a meaningful solution to the perpetual, insolvable problem of finding enough escorts for the protection of our merchant ships against submarine attack, could we not embark on a real self-protection policy for these vessels? Why not? They all have radar. Helicopter with electronic countermeasure equipment, weapons, and sonar can operate from almost any of them. Towed sonar can work for cargo ships as well as any other. A couple of thousand baseball size explosives quickly strewn in the vicinity of a suspected submarine and suspended by string from floating pieces of wood to hang at various depths ready to go off on contact, will take a lot of aggressiveness out of a hard-charging submarine skipper (With a 24-hour or 48-hour solvent in them, the “baseballs” would sink and not become a danger to our own submarines.).
Should not one of our objectives then be to convert our vast, sitting-duck cargo-carrying ships to an active membership in the hunting team shucking their perpetual, scared rabbit, “I-need protection” role of previous wars?
Should these new objectives influence ASW research and development? Should they influence the development of logistic systems? Should they influence the structure, operation, and coordination of world-wide information networks including all intelligence systems)? More important, should our objectives be specific enough to influence accomplishment of regular “performance toward objectives” assessments at the highest level before rather than after we are enveloped in crises?
The point to all this is that development and agreement on ASW objectives at the national level with subsequent downward refinement of these objectives could lead to a clearer identification of the destroyer’s role. It could lead also to a role in ASW for every ship at sea and every aircraft that flies over an ocean, or can fly over an ocean open to potential enemy submarines. It can identify better the role of intelligence sources as well as new roles for existing unused sources of information. It can provide a foundation for correlating world-wide information to focus attention on the problem solution aspects of information systems and not the systems themselves, and it can point to integrated research and development for all antisubmarine warfare participants.
In the years since World War II, my experience has been that step by step we are rediscovering old knowledge and experience in ASW. One key step still ahead to be rediscovered is centralized analysis, evaluation, and “thinking” about ASW by a top level permanent group. That process, split up as it is now between the major commanders, reminds me of the pre-World War II days that are described well in Ladislas Farago’s book The Tenth Fleet (published in 1962). In the book, he describes the chaotic situation just prior to World War II, as well as the impact of this situation of our readiness for ASW. He describes also the circumstances which led to the formulation of the paper “Tenth Fleet.” Implicit in his narrative is the great need for correlation and evaluation of an exceptionally complex and diverse range of world-wide information. I shudder to think what might have happened had not this one group (the Tenth Fleet) been established with a goal to examine, understand, react to, and help get ahead of the entire ASW jigsaw puzzle. By contrast today, we seem to be separately working on segments of a major worldwide jigsaw puzzle—a puzzle made infinitely more complex and larger by the Polaris-type submarine and the decentralization of force control to the unified and specified commanders.
In theory, it is the responsibility of each unified and specified commander to optimize the contribution of the separate Service units assigned to him. Does this mean that for ASW, each such commander has on his staff a group of people similar to a “Tenth Fleet” gulping in, digesting, understanding, advising optimum courses of ASW action, forecasting ASW problems, suggesting defenses against the Polaris submarine, influencing contingency plans, and influencing research and development? To press on further, who correlates the overall effort between these commanders, develops a national picture, and tries to stay on top and ahead of that picture? Going still further, how does the ASW training, logistics, and communications support provided by the separate military departments become correlated with the problems seen ahead?
We should not accept answers to these questions if produced against a wiring diagram of organizational responsibilities. The answers to these questions should be obtained from world-wide records of performance in major ASW exercises over the past four or five years. They should also be obtained from an evaluation of our record of actual operational readiness experiences, vis-à-vis the operations of our potential enemies.
If these records do not clearly indicate an effective use of the mix of world-wide information and the application of the entire available force inventory, we should review the record of groups like the Tenth Fleet, get on with consolidating efforts and getting ahead of our ASW problem.
From the tenor of my comments, the reader is probably aware that I already have answered these questions for myself. My suggestion is that we should start a consolidation effort (note I am not saying centralized command direction). We might start by asking, “Is there anywhere in the Department of Defense a group similar to the World War II Tenth Fleet? Would such a group enhance our readiness for ASW and for the Polaris-type submarine threat that we are so acutely aware of? Thirdly, where should we locate such a group today?
I think all will agree that the answer to the first question is that there is no group today viewing the world-wide ASW issues and evaluating performance as did the Tenth Fleet Group in World War II. To the second question, I suggest that the view of our defense against Polaris-type submarines would change from pessimism to optimism if all the input on this subject were correlated, analyzed, evaluated, and projections made by such a group.
The answer to the third question is an easy one. The CNO’s office is suggested notwithstanding the fact that he does not have command control of operational forces. Needed is an expert group, one that can develop and suggest sensible courses of action which the major commanders themselves can select; a group that can forecast the effectiveness of proposed operations, both actual and exercise; a group that by its skill and expertise will acquire the confidence of the commanders.
Each of us does his own analysis based on his experience and the information he obtains. Mine keeps pointing to a conclusion that sees only one real submarine threat—the Polaris-type submarine threat. And in my analysis, even this threat seems amenable to being blunted far more than we have been able to confidently forecast.
“Ships At Sea: Maritime Facts Of Life”
(See W. R. Nichols, Jr., pp. 34-41, April 1971 Proceedings)
Captain V. A. Moitoret, U. S. Navy (Retired), Director, International Hydrographic Bureau—Mr. Nichols is certainly 100% correct in his basic theme of the need to tell the merchant marine story to the U. S. citizenry more effectively and more often. He is also 100% correct in two of his specific statements: (1) “The advocate of capabilities who fails to consider limitations is at best uninformed . . .” and (2) “The facts are there; solid information is abundant.” Most unfortunately, Mr. Nichols has weakened his fine article by ignoring or turning his own back on facts in more than one important instance. By all means, let us all sing the chorus of the need for seapower in all its forms, but let us use facts alone, for they are more than sufficient to our needs.
The author writes that “The United States, by comparison; has the only declining merchant fleet.” (To place that exactly in context, let us admit that he apparently means the only declining merchant fleet among the 11 largest merchant fleets.) Even in context that statement is not quite true. If we refer to the annual “Statistical Tables” published by Lloyd’s Register of Shipping for 1969 and for 1970, we would find that Norway, which Mr. Nichols shows to be in fourth place, had a total gross tonnage of steamships and motorships of 100 tons gross and upwards for 1969 of 19,679,094, while for 1970, the figure had declined to 19,346,911. So, even in this top grouping, the United States has one companion with a declining merchant fleet. But by cutting his sample off conveniently at 11, Mr. Nichols could ignore two other merchant fleets which are just as important as those of France and Panama which he included: let us look at these figures:
| Gross Tonnage | |
Nation | 1969 | 1970 |
Netherlands | 5,254,883 | 5,206,663 |
Sweden | 5,029,407 | 4,920,704 |
If we extend the review down to all merchant fleets with more than 100,000 gross tons, we would also have to include the following:
Nation | 1969 | 1970 |
Bahamas | 376,132 | 194,458 |
Canada | 2,450,944 | 2,399,949 |
Denmark | 3,490,334 | 3,314,320 |
Hong Kong | 707,748 | 670,980 |
Iceland | 120,460 | 119,305 |
Israel | 769,156 | 713,867 |
Lebanon | 295,038 | 181,790 |
Mexico | 423,969 | 381,096 |
U.A.R. | 239,461 | 238,282 |
If we look at the entire world picture, we would then also have to include: Dominican Republic, Ethiopia, Falkland Islands, Fiji, Honduras, Hungary, Jamaica, Madagascar, Malta, Paraguay, Saudi Arabia, Seychelles, Southern Yemen, and Tanzania.
The United States was thus just one of 27 nations whose merchant fleets diminished. This does not excuse our permitting the U. S. fleet to shrink—our merchant marine is much more important to us, we can argue, for all the reasons any naval officer knows so well.
Further, the author notes that “The ship does not require a prepared path for transit; the number of courses and routes between any two points is infinite.” This is one of several oversimplifications which weaken his otherwise splendid paper. There very definitely are “prepared” paths which most ships always use: there are buoys and beacons and lighthouses and radio-direction finder stations and electronic position-fixing transmitter stations; there are swept channels, dredged channels, and wreck-cleared channels. Would Mr. Nichols seriously argue that he could choose an infinite number of courses and routes in bringing a 100,000-ton tanker up the Ambrose Channel into New York harbor?
The author also states that, “. . . as heavier and more sophisticated air vehicles are developed, the greater the requirement for terminal facilities from which to operate . . .’’ as though there were no parallel requirement for shipping. But how many terminals today can handle a 300,000-ton tanker?
Mr. Nichols would be correct in saying that the capacity of the sea to support the weight of a load knows no limit—and a 5-million-ton tanker could quite conceivably cross an ocean. But where would she start from and where would she terminate her journey? Contrary to this part of his thesis, the practical limitations of ship size are not merely the “ability to develop structure.” The North Sea—gateway to Europe by water—the Malacca Straits, the Suez Canal, the Panama Canal, and other areas impose very definite practical limitations on ship size, either in draft or beam or both.
Nor is it true to state, as Mr. Nichols does, that “The seaway itself requires no modification.” If he were right, then why have the combined efforts of the hydrographic services of the North Sea Hydrographic Commission nations been engaged for years already in joint surveys, mine-sweeping, wreck-hunting and clearing, and even bottom-channel dredging preparations to enable the newer, very deep-draft ships to find a safe passage through the comparatively shallow North Sea waters?
Mr. Nichols writes: “Ships have increased in size enormously in the past few hundred years, but they still use the same ports.” Would Mr. Nichols really want to debate the questions he raises with that statement? Does 1970 deep-draft shipping still use the same ports used in 1670?
Later on, Mr. Nichols sandpapers some facts to fit his own needs. In the tonnage tables to rank the merchant fleets of the world, using figures obtained from the U. S. Maritime Administration, he subtracts the 172 U. S. ships which are government-owned or chartered. Why, then, does he make no similar subtraction for the ships in the Soviet merchant fleet that are government-owned or chartered?
Finally, Mr. Nichols makes no mention of the cost of hydrographic effort to support larger ships. The hydrographers of the world certainly do not share Mr. Nichols’ complacent assumption that an increase in ship size calls for no increase in supporting costs. As an example, consider this statement from the 1970 Annual Report of the Hydrographer of the Navy in the United Kingdom:
Lloyd’s Register of Shipping Statistical Tables show that there are now more than 98 vessels (all tankers) of more than 100,000 tons in existence and at least 6 of these draw more than 24.3 metres (80 feet). In anticipation of the results of HMS Hydra’s survey, a Norwegian tanker, fully loaded and drawing 21.8 metres (71½ feet), has passed successfully through the Malacca Strait.
These dimensions are alarming—and the increase in size almost outstrips the capacity of surveyors to survey. In the southern part of the North Sea we are identifying, in collaboration with the Netherlands, areas that are critical both because of shoals and of changeable sand waves on the seabed. But we shall not be able to re-survey these areas with the frequency that they merit and we shall be looking towards the shipping industry for help—possibly by the employment d contract surveyors. Discussions have already-been held with the U.K. Chamber of Shipping about this possibility.
Hydrographers have for years carried out their detailed surveys using a depth with a safety factor for guaranteeing safe passage for shipping. In fact, for example, the special symbol agreed to internationally for a sunken rock which is dangerous to navigation, as portrayed on a navigational chart, is for a rock “. . . with a depth of less 11 fathoms over it.” A similar limit governs the symbol for wrecks. But a rock or a sunken wreck with a depth of 11 fathoms of water over it would be quite dangerous, indeed, to a fully-loaded tanker drawing 21.8 meters. So the necessity to re-examine all existing charts, to resurvey areas of the world’s seas, solely for the purpose of providing the safe navigation of this small minority of very deep draft ships is raising the question already in the United Kingdom as to whether the shipping operators should not have to shoulder the extra expenses involved in catering to their special needs.
Permit me to add that in this same issue, I found the article “The Frustration Factor” by Commander F. B. Shemanski, U. S. Navy, to be one of the finest pieces of writing I have found in your pages; the objective and critical exposure of some very real problems is a sign of a healthy Navy and a worthwhile contribution on your part in publishing the article. My most sincere thanks and congratulations.
“Vice Admiral Chuichi Hara: Unforgettable Foe”
(See D. Bartlett, pp. 49-55, October 1970; and p. 84, February 1971 Proceedings)
Captain Ross E. Freeman, U. S. Navy (Retired)—As the navigator of the USS Miami (CL-89), with time on my hands in port, I was temporarily assigned to Admiral Durgin’s staff to head the Physical Damage and Area Study Group of the Bombing Survey Group. This damage group consisted of eight specialists, whose mission was to visit the various military installations in the Truk Islands to determine, by interview and examination, the extent of damage done by U. S. bombs.
Our party traveled by boat, truck, and on foot from island to island interviewing the various installation commanders, examining, and taking pictures of the bomb damage. At my request, “before and after bombing” maps and charts were prepared by the Japanese showing the damage done to each installation by U. S. air attacks. These charts, which were veritable works of art, were appended to the report. At each installation we were treated with extreme courtesy and on occasion, tea was served. The commanders I talked with had apparently received their instructions from Admiral Hara, as they cooperated fully with us, just as he was doing with Admiral Durgin.
Somewhat to my dismay, Admiral Durgin directed that sidearms not be worn ashore by our party, and we felt a bit naked without our 45s. This, however, turned out to be a wise decision and our nervousness soon disappeared, when it became obvious that the Japanese garrison had completely accepted defeat. Nevertheless, it gave you an eerie feeling when our tiny group would drive along the road in a flatbed truck and the troops we passed would turn toward us and bow low with their faces expressionless. We wondered if these docile Japanese could be the same men with whom we had been in mortal combat for almost four years.
We inspected airfields, anti-aircraft, and shore-battery gun installations, the harbor control post, radar installations, plus underground machine shops and communications centers, taking about ten days to complete our work. At night, I worked on my report from notes taken during the day. We were surprised at the friendliness of the Japanese, and I do not feel that we were prepared to cope with this unexpected turn-around of attitude. I believe that Americans are basically “nice guys” and are prepared to forgive and forget, but the Japanese acted as if we had defeated them in an athletic event rather than a war.
On one occasion, when questioning an airfield commander about a particular U. S. air raid, I asked, “How much radar warning of the approach of U. S. planes did you receive?” “About 20 minutes,” he replied. “How many of your fighters took off to intercept?” I then inquired. “About 20,” he stated. “How many returned?” was my next question. “As I recall, four,” he answered. “How do you account for your large loss of planes?” was my final question. “Our planes were no match for yours,” was the surprising admission.
On another occasion, when questioning an anti-aircraft battery commander about a specific air raid, I asked him how many U. S. planes had been shot down. “Three,” was the reply. “What happened to the pilots?” I inquired. “They died in battle,” was his answer.
On being told that they had been buried on Truk, I then inquired if they could give me the names of these U. S. pilots and added that I would like to visit their graves. After some hesitation, I was informed that the graves were some distance away, but I would be taken to them the next day.
The following day I was led to a spot where there were three mounds of freshly dug earth with newly made wooden crosses inscribed in Japanese. Through my interpreter, I asked for a translation and the Japanese commander showed no emotion as he stated, “Here lies a brave U. S. aviator who died in the service of his country.”
As indicated previously, the Japanese acted as if the Miami was making a peacetime courtesy visit to Truk, and they seemed to assume the role of hosts. A wrestling match was staged ashore for members of the crew, and prior to our departure, Admiral Hara hosted a Japanese dinner in his quarters for Admiral Durgin and his staff, which Captain Binford, the skipper of the Miami, and I also attended.
At the direction of the Admiral, each of the Miami officers received a samurai sword as a souvenir. I never felt any remorse about accepting mine (I felt I had earned it), but later gave it to a close friend whose only souvenir of the war was the memory of almost four years as a Japanese POW.
Commander Bartlett’s description of Admiral Hara and his sympathetic portrayal of his subsequent trial, prison sentence, and life after his release, including the story of the Hara sword, was most interesting. The article also states that Admiral Durgin’s mission was to gather information—that he acted like the gentleman he was, and that his staff, whatever may have been their initial feelings, followed his lead. I was among those who found it difficult to reconcile this friendly hospitality toward Admiral Hara with the vivid memories of carriers flaming from Kamikaze attacks, and of Pearl Harbor, Bataan, and Bilibid. At the time, the attitude of the Vice Admiral, who, it is stated in the article, did not wish to soil his hands with a Japanese sword, was considerably more prevalent than that of Admiral Durgin, whose attitude toward the Japanese on Truk was obviously motivated by his specific objective of obtaining information for the Bombing Survey.
Finally, I suspect that Admiral Hara, the “Unforgettable Foe,” would have been much more unforgettable and possibly not quite as “Merry as Old King Cole,” as the article states, if the situation had been reversed.
“Junior Officer Retention, A Lot Of Little Things”
(See M. S. Harris, pp. 26-31, March; pp. 97-98, August; and pp. 96-97, September 1971 Proceedings)
Ensign S. M. Ogintz, Civil Engineer Corps, U. S. Naval Reserve—I agree that the benefits discriminate against the bachelor junior officer. Yet they also are inadequate for the married junior officer. Even using the most liberal accounting, my “pay,” including benefits, is about $700 per month, as an O-1 under two year’s service. Yet, when I left civilian life, over a year and a half ago, I was earning 50% more a month than I am now. This was as a chemical engineer with a master’s degree and one year’s experience. That is one count against remaining in the Navy.
Strike number two against retention is the lack of remuneration for education and experience in a so-called “professional” corps. Whereas doctors, dentists, and lawyers are commissioned as lieutenants, with each year of specialized education being roughly equivalent to one year time-in-grade, officers in the Civil Engineer and Supply Corps are commissioned as ensigns. This leads to low morale and empty pocketbooks for those of us in the not-so-well paid professional Corps.
A third financial strike against retention is the inadequacy of reimbursement on permanent change of station (PCS) move. While it costs the government 12₵ per mile to operate a motor vehicle, the reimbursement to the person on PCS is only 6₵ per mile. On a cross country move, you stand to lose over $200. Not a small sum considering junior officers’ salaries. If you happen to be married, you get 12₵ per mile, the additional 6₵ per mile being for your wife. A more realistic system might be 10₵ per mile for yourself plus an additional 2₵ per mile for each dependent.
On the other side of the coin there are many aspects of the Civil Engineer Corps (CEC) favorable to a junior officer continuing in the Navy. One of the foremost is that the junior officer in the CEC has challenge in his duties far beyond that of his line counterparts. Senior officers in the CEC encourage their juniors to think independently and challenge the system. In addition, they listen willingly to the junior officer’s point of view and are willing to change their opinions for good cause. I have never felt, in dealing with senior CEC officers, that I was “only” an ensign, but rather that I was a responsible member of the CEC team.
Another factor encouraging junior officers retention in the CEC is his responsibility. On a weekly basis, I represent the Public Works Department in a meeting where participants include a line captain and five line commanders. I feel that this responsibility encourages one to perform his best in accomplishing his duties.
In summary, for the junior CEC officer, the present remuneration is the biggest negative factor in retention, while the challenge and responsibility of the job is the biggest positive factor.
Lieutenant Commander David G. Clark. U. S. Navy—One officer with nearly nine years of commissioned service was questioned as to why he is considering resigning. He stated that the only person who ever evidenced concern as to whether or not he stayed in was his wife. Since he had been away from home for half his married life, she certainly was not advocating a career. Until the day an officer’s letter of resignation starts up the chain of command, he is too frequently taken for granted.
This feeling of not caring is reinforced as we continue the archaic policy of programming all line officers for compulsory return to sea every few years The Air Force long ago admitted that there was no need for all officers to fly. How many of the General Motors management are still expected to work on an assembly line periodically, then come back into management? We send our best officers to graduate school, those having a proven ability to manage men and money and to think innovatively; we then put them in charge of civilians who make more money for less work and in less responsible jobs; we tell them that for a small part of their careers they will be in positions of responsibility, but will spend the rest lost in the bureaucracy or at sea out of touch with their specialties—then we wonder why they resign. We preach fringe benefits when many civilian companies offer better medical benefits, many times the reimbursement for moving expenses, a non-paper pension plan which is transferable, and 50% more pay. If this rational officer examines his own future with the methods he has been trained to use on Navy programs, he may well decide to resign.
Lieutenant Harris lists many gripes which he will find apply as well to civilian business life: mediocrity (the Peter Principle), a dogmatic bureaucracy, apparently inequitable promotions, and machines taking priority over men. This, however, is no reason for us to accept the problems as inevitable in our Navy. Under our current dynamic leadership, we have a better opportunity than ever before to create a capable fighting Navy which cares about its people, and which can again inspire the ambitious and innovative man to a dedicated career.
“The Career Officer As Existential Hero”
(See D. G. Deininger, pp. 18-22, November 1970; p. 91, April; pp. 99-100, June; p. 98, July; pp. 96-97, September; and p. 96 October 1971 Proceedings)
R. B. Dietrick, M.D., Kwangju Christian Hospital, Korea—Although I am a physician and missionary, I was in the Navy in 1945 and 1946. Saying that the definition of patriotism has changed can only mean that the meaning of patriotism has changed. Any other conclusion is a useless exercise in semantics. The import of this change in meaning can be seen in Lieutenant Deininger’s casual assumption that “Truth, after all, is a relative quantity; . . . ,” which leads directly to the manner in which the “existential hero” finds meaning and value through internal commitment, as opposed to external commitment to a system which has concrete rather than relative values. In this connection, it is of interest that Lieutenant Deininger’s heroes are all literary figures, whereas Decatur was a flesh and blood person. Thus, each with his conceptualized “internal commitment,” is imaginary, the product of an author’s mind, and none of the authors were native to the United States. While the search for meaning through internal commitment may have a certain grandeur from a humanistic point of view, (contemplating one’s navel, so to speak), it is highly doubtful it will be effective in developing strong naval leadership, and the pun is intended.
More serious is the author’s apparent belief that the philosophy of existentialism has something to offer in the development of dedicated naval officers. This is to mis-read the history of the existential movement. The progression has been one of steady degradation and denigration of all external or absolute value systems. The result is that almost all important existential philosophers today hold that life is essentially meaningless, or that its meaning is only in that which the individual chooses to give it. This is seen both in the writings of Camus, and more clearly in Sartre, which hold that the universe is absurd. This being the case, meaning is found for the individual through acts of self-authentication. Any act will do, and morale or ethics have no say or sway. Thus existentialism tells us that the search for meaning within man himself is a dead end. It is difficult to see how such a philosophy can contribute much to the stuff of which dedicated naval officers are made.
The blunt truth is that truth is not relative. It is our perception of it that is relative. Thus, while there is good reason for caution in saying that we know all the truth, there is no need for caution in saying that truth as such does exist. It is through our perception of truth that external value systems are derived. In the United States, our values have generally been derived from Hebrew-Christian patterns, with a liberal admixture of Greek thought. While this value system is imperfect, it has nonetheless served to guide in the development of a society which has more freedom, more diversity, and more material benefits than any yet seen. So free, as a matter of fact, that the author could publish his article without fear for his safety. There are many countries in which publication of such an article would bring much trouble, even liquidation for instance.
This is not the main point, however. Most pertinent is the fact that man can make valid “internal commitments” only after he has made the “external commitments” that will determine what his “internal commitments” shall be. This pre-supposes some set of standards or values outside and greater than man himself. Hard on man’s ego, perhaps, but there it is. Thus, in the development of naval leadership, men are needed who have strong external commitments, and who are able to pass them along to their fellows, both by example and by direction. Men will not follow a man who is “proving himself to himself.” They will follow a man who knows himself and acts according to an external set of moral and ethical standards which are greater than he, and which give his internal commitments meaning.
Finally, then, let us hope that our future naval heroes will not prove to be existential ones, for this will mean, as we have seen, no heroes at all. Let us hope that our heroes will be men who base their internal commitments on an external higher law, which by no means has to be impersonal. Let us hope that, while they are “spawned by contemporary society,” they can also find the courage and fortitude to guide and remold that society according to a higher and more absolute authority than existential man himself. If this cannot be, then there is real reason to fear for the future of naval leadership, and for the country as well. The problem remains, of course, as to the source of our higher authority. Quite unfacetiously, might I suggest God?
“Tomorrow’s Warships: Their Cost and Value”
(See B. B. Schofield, pp. 43-48, January 1971 Proceedings)
Albert H. Robbins—Admiral Schofield underestimates air cushion vehicles (ACV). While admiring as yet unbuilt ships, he condemns ACVs based on initial operating figures for the first model of an entirely new class of ACVs. Nearly 300 changes, from new skirts to improved locks on lavatory doors, were installed on the SR.N4s this past winter.
As a result of the changes, Hoverlloyd reported 39 cancellations, out of the first 1,874 scheduled crossings: one because of mechanical difficulties; not bad for two primitive machines, with over 4,000 operating hours. Still, the SR.N4 has skirt problems. In ten years since the first ACV skirt was fitted, skirt life has risen from roughly 30 minutes to nearly 2,000 hours. With improved materials, production methods, and maintenance techniques it should continue to improve. Open sea operations? No one has tried to build such a machine because there has been no market.
Vosper has built and delivered a revolutionary new hybrid ACV, the VT-1. She uses twin semi-keels and water rudders for propulsion, and control. The semi-keels permit using lower cost water propulsors and rudders, lowering the center of gravity, and dramatically reducing radiated noise levels as compared to the BHC type ACVs. More important, it is nearly as fast, with a greater payload, at half the cost of the Susa-class fast patrol boat. Anyone interested in value?
The specification of the Vosper VT-1 are as follows:
Length: | 95 feet 6 inches |
Beam: | 44 feet 6 inches |
Draft: | 3 feet 9 inches (on-cushion) |
Power: | two Avco Lycoming TF2030 |
Speed: | 48 knots in calm |
Weight: | 50 tons empty |
Endurance: | 4 hours at 40 knots with |
“Gun Systems? For Air Defense?”
(See W. D. O’Neil, III, pp. 44-45, March; and p. 97, July 1971 Proceedings)
W. H. Porter, The Johns Hopkins University, Applied Physics Laboratory—This article portrays an unbelievable performance for gun systems against low-flying targets. If this effectiveness were real, it could not fail to be recognized from the results of Fleet exercises, and anti-ship missiles would be easily destroyed. Yet, the defense of ships against anti-ship missiles continues to be a pressing problem.
Analyses of the effectiveness of gun systems shows that the kill probability builds up sharply at close ranges, based on the assumption that the angular accuracy remains reasonably constant. Experience in World War II and more recent pertinent tests indicate that this assumption is incorrect and that the angular error increases rapidly at the ranges where effectiveness is calculated to increase. Until the effects are understood and solutions proven in realistic tests, we must not assume that the problems are solved.
“Shipboard Habitability: Restricted Areas”
(See M. J. Byington, Jr., pp. 24-31, January 1971 Proceedings)
Rear Admiral E. H. Batcheller, U. S. Navy (Retired)—In the design process, habitability must be balanced against the demands of other military characteristics—speed, endurance, seaworthiness, command and control, defensive strength or survivability, and offensive capability—and fitted with them as a matrix of interlocking systems into the all-too-finite physical envelope that is the ship.
The physical dimensions of a ship must be established early in design development, with negligible exceptions at a point in time when the major component systems are still being evolved and before their full demands on space, weight, and manpower can be more than estimated. To compensate for these uncertainties it is standard practice, in the initial phase of each design, to provide a margin of weight and space for future growth. Because of the interrelationship between size and cost, however, there is pressure to hold this margin to a nominal percentage of the total ship. It should be a surprise to very few that, historically, the margin has been consumed before the design reaches the working plan stage. Moreover, the rapid advance of technology tends to foster further growth in the requirements for weight and space, not only during the building period but also throughout the life of the ship.
The problem of trying to fit the burgeoning demands of desired capabilities into the boundaries of the ship hull is further complicated by a variety of restraints. For example: extensive compartmentation and restrictions in access are required for damage control; there has to be rather exact geometric relationship between machinery and propulsion shafting, between launching systems and the magazines that house their missiles and between the various command and control components and the ship operating stations. There are environmental condition requirements, mandatory site location requirements, and a host of shock-mounting and maintenance space requirements.
These and other similar restraints limit the options available. As the margin is consumed, they, inevitably and inexorably, throw the burden of accommodation on the most flexible element in the military characteristic, the amount and location of space and facilities for the crew. The pressure to encroach on a standard or to depart from the most desirable living arrangement when this permits the gain of a new or improved capability is an inescapable fact of life. If really substantial improvements over present shipboard living conditions are to be attained, there must be acceptance of the price that will have to be in reduced military payload.
Admittedly carried to a ridiculous extreme, but invited by Commander Byington’s comparison of various space allowances is an example based on the conversion of the USS Albemarle (AV-5), a Navy seaplane tender, to the USS Corpus Christi Bay (T-ARVH-1), an Army aeronautical maintenance facility. The Corpus Christi Bay is manned by a Military Sealift Command (MSC) crew of about 100 Civil Service employees. This crew operates the ship at sea and provides utility and hotel services in port. The several shops, laboratories, and logistic support facilities are staffed by an embarked Army detachment of about 350 officers and men.
Each man in the MSC crew down to the lowest rating must be berthed in no more than a two-man stateroom fitted with closet space, a desk, and a wash basin. He is fed in a restaurant-type dining room. It was not possible to achieve quite the 100 feet of gross area per man cited by Commander Byington as the MSC standard. In the case of the Army detachment, the non-rated and the junior non-commissioned officers are berthed in compartments fitted with three tiers of berths, the master sergeants in bunk rooms with not less than two tiers of berths, and the warrant officers and junior officers in two- to six-man staterooms. A cafeteria mess line feeds the troops. Had the Army detachment been provided the same standard of habitability that the crew enjoys, the space available for shops and laboratories would have been so reduced as to make the ship unsuitable for the purpose intended.
“A Perspective on Sea-Based VTOL”
(See W. V. Whidden, pp. 95-97, November 1970 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Commander A. W. Grazebrook, Royal Naval Reserve—Captain Whidden’s contribution understandably examines the potential of sea-based VTOL aircraft from the U. S. Navy point of view. It is, however, necessary to consider also the potential of VTOL for smaller navies of the world.
Based on the U. S. Navy’s design decisions in recent years, one concludes that it is necessary to build very large aircraft carriers to achieve a reasonable economy of scale, and operate an effective conventional take-off and landing (CTOL) seaborne air capability. This involves a construction cost of $277 million per ship, and tying up 4,750 men per ship (figures given in Jane's Fighting Ships for the USS John F. Kennedy (CVA-67), a conventionally-powered vessel). While this is the most cost-effective approach from the point of view of the Navy, faced with the necessity of operating a force of 15 or so attack carriers, smaller allied navies are in a different position.
These smaller allied navies are faced with the need to maintain an effective seaborne air capability when their present aircraft carriers come to the end of their useful lives, say at the end of the current decade. To mount an effective seaborne air capability, at least two ships must be constructed—to allow one to be available for maintenance and one to be operational at all times. If completed in 1980, the replacement vessels should be expected to have an effective life, expiring approximately in 2005.
It is manifestly impractical from a cost viewpoint, and unwise from the point of view of having an unacceptably large percentage of defense “eggs” in the one basket for smaller navies to build a new generation of giant CTOL carriers.
Design studies, now being carried out by the British Navy, indicate that it is practicable to construct a vertical take-off and landing/short takeoff and landing (VTOL/STOL) carrier (or through deck cruiser) with an effective seaborne air capability, having a complement of 750 men, a displacement of 20,000 tons, and a speed of 30 knots. By the time such vessels are completed, some of the advance in VTOL/STOL capability, mentioned by Captain Whidden, will have taken place. All of the advance will have taken place well before the new ships are halfway through their useful lives.
Sea-based VTOL/STOL offers smaller navies the opportunity of retaining, or even improving, much needed seaborne air capability at reasonable cost in money and personnel. The alternative is no seaborne air capability at all.
“A United States Navy for the Future”
(See R. H. Smith, pp. 18-25, March; pp. 81-90, June; pp. 89-93, July; pp. 93-96, August; pp. 93-95, September; pp. 93-95, October; and pp. 93-95, December 1971 Proceedings)
Commander W. J. Hunter, U. S. Navy, Commanding Officer, USS Marvin Shields (DE-1066)—Having commissioned the Marvin Shields in April 1971, and being fairly knowledgeable about the ship through reading and actual experience, I feel compelled to write. My purpose is to attempt to inject some objectivity into the subject. The point seems to have been reached where the critics feel a responsibility to find fault with everything in the ship and the Navy, and the proponents become gushingly defensive. Two of the letters in the Comment and Discussion section of the June 1971 Proceedings are cases in point: the pro by Lieutenant Commander Cox and the con by Lieutenant Commander Davis.
Lieutenant Commander Cox contends that the AN/SQS-26 CX sonar can do anything our higher-frequency, hull-mounted destroyer sonars can do regardless of water depth, and that the DE-1052 class ship handles as well as a FRAM I and is as easy to control as a bicycle. I believe both statements to be in error. In the first case, the high-powered, low frequency sonar will, in depths of water less than 500 fathoms and negative gradients, perform less ably than the higher-frequency and higher-resolution sonars of the late 1950s and 1960s. Under these conditions, the effects of bottom reverberations become so overpowering as to severely inhibit target detection, much less gain an opportunity for classification. If the equipment performed adequately in this type of environment as Lieutenant Commander Cox claims it will, why would we be installing independent variable depth sonar (IVDS) in all ships of the class?
With regard to the statements concerning shiphandling, and I speak of the most difficult evolutions—landing and getting underway—the DE-1052 is no match for a twin-screw ship. That is a fact which does not even warrant discussion. On the one hand, we are talking about a twin-screw ship that generates 60,000 shaft horsepower to propel a ship under 3,000 tons; on the other, a single-screw ship that cocks to port on backing and generates 35,000 shaft horsepower to propel a ship 50 feet longer and more than 1,000 tons heavier through the water. The engineering plant is responsive, I will agree, but the responsiveness does not outweigh the other factors which favor the twin-screw ship.
Lieutenant Commander Davis has tried to cover too much of the waterfront—he sounds like the perennial dissenting vote at a Ship’s Characteristics Board meeting. Actually, the DE-1052 class ship is an excellent design—she has beautiful lines and is spacious. The plant, though lacking a certain amount of redundancy, is well laid out, is proven, and, to date, has been the most reliable that I have ever been associated with.
I told my engineers at the outset that the margin for slop was not there, and that attention to detail and sound engineering practice were going to give us reliability approaching that of a four-boiler ship. I sincerely believe this. As far as cruising radius is concerned, the DE-1052 class ship is superb and is exceeded in the destroyer force only by nuclear powered frigates and DLG-16 class and larger. That is not so bad.
The days of officers taking pride in getting the ship underway and landing are not over by a long shot. Under close to ideal conditions, the DE-1052 class is manageable without assistance. I submit, however, that it takes a great deal more skill in maneuvering in combination with tugs or pushers—you do not have to use the pilot—and, believe it or not, it gives one a thrill equal to handling a twin-screw ship. Frankly, it is more of a thrill for me, and I have logged many unassisted landings in twin-screw destroyers and destroyer escorts.
That one single-barreled mount on the forecastle is probably the equivalent in destructive power of two, twin 5-inch 38-caliber mounts, and my Mk.68 director is markedly superior to the Mk.37. Granted, we must have reliability, for, as in the case of the plant, we lack redundancy. I believe we can achieve it, and my words to the gunners were virtually the same as to the engineers.
A more capable ship certainly could have been built—all it takes is money—but before too long the DE-1052 class is going to reach a point where she is competitive with the best. Regular overhauls and, in my case, the post shake-down availability is going to see the installation of additional sensors and weapons, which will aid the class in achieving competitiveness.
“The Only Option?”
(See G. E. Lowe, pp. 18-26, April; pp. 86-88, November; and pp. 88-89, December 1971 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Dennis W. Brezina, U. S. Naval Reserve-R—Mr. Lowe’s essay on military strategy in the 1970s offers a persuasive argument for the return of the Navy as the nation’s first line of defense. The policy statement by President Nixon, “What the Soviet Union needs is different from what we need. They’re a land power, primarily, with a great potential enemy on the east. We’re primarily, of course, a sea power and our needs are, therefore, different,” could become one of the most important in the strategy debate of this decade.
The statement implies, in addition to adopting the sea-based or blue-water option, that an oceanic power has to think in oceanic terms. This means, among other things, whole scale educational reform—not just of military schools but of the entire nation’s school system. More oceanographers, per se, would not be the goal. Instead, what is needed are more articulate individuals who understand the economic, social, political, and strategic implications of the world ocean.
A sea-based nation thinks of itself as an island. It acts toward other nations with this image in mind. Its communications with other countries portray a maritime mentality. Simply, this means that the United States should fashion domestic and foreign policies that have a strong oceanic dimension. To do that, more people with a solid oceanic education are needed to serve their country in a variety of roles and ways.