For the Reserves: A Workable System
Commander H. C. Boschen, Jr., U. S. Navy—Let us suppose that during a national emergency, such as the Cuban Crisis, we had the requirement to mobilize our forces immediately. One of the groups that would be required would be trained assault troops. The only way to get trained assault troops is through practice. But how can we get this practice? Just recently, the Navy decommissioned a large number of overage amphibious ships. Suppose, however, these ships were maintained as Naval Reserve training ships. No one would disagree that an amphibious ship is less complex than a destroyer. They are less costly to operate, both in personnel and fuel.
Nearly every major seaport has a Marine Corps Reserve unit whose training is accomplished during weekly drills and summer training camps. Expensive Naval and Marine Corps Reserve Training Centers are maintained for the weekly meetings. Suppose one or more attack cargo or attack transport ships were made available to each Reserve unit, manned by a caretaker crew in the same manner as a Reserve Center is presently maintained. Each member of the unit could then be assigned his own locker and bunk on board the ship. We would then have a measurable quantity as far as requirements and personnel shortages are concerned.
As a part of their training, these ships could get underway weekly to conduct the amphibious assault training singly or with other ships. They could conduct boat drills and gunnery training, which is so vital to an effective assault team. All of these amphibious training ships could gather annually for a large scale fleet amphibious assault exercise. During the weekly meetings, the staffs would work out their own operation plans and orders while the crew practiced routine maintenance and other required training. Each Naval Reserve commanding officer would have a feeling that he is participating, and would know that if his unit were called to active duty, all of his men would be familiar with their ship. The Marines would know their assignments and thus would compete the Marine Corps-Navy assault team.
The cost of this training should be far less, and the expertise in maintaining these ships would be retained. The Reservist would have the feeling that he is not just drilling, but is a part of the big picture. Finally, we would be developing a viable Navy and Marine Corps team which would be instantly available, organized, and ready to move out.
“SABMIS and the Future of Strategic Warfare”
(See M. B. Schneider, pp. 26-34, July; and pp. 118-120, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain D. A. Paolucci, U. S. Navy (Retired)—Rear Admiral Withington’s comments represent additional, after-the-fact justification for selection of Mr. Schneider’s article for publication.
The seven questions asked by Admiral Withington deserve a great deal more discussion and analysis than can be provided in the forum offered by the PROCEEDINGS’ Comments and Discussions section, but Admiral Withington’s remarks cannot be allowed to stand unchallenged.
The first and third questions asked, “Is the Navy willing to undertake, at the expense of the already strained general-purpose ship forces available . . . ?” and “Who would have operational control of the SABMIS system?” are evidence of a complete lack of understanding of the reasons the United States needs modern weapon systems. Issues such as what general-purpose forces the Navy has, and over what forces the Navy exercises operational control are consequences of the kind and the mix of U. S. weapon systems. To use such subjective dogma as criteria for the selection of modern weapon systems can only ensure an obsolete Navy unresponsive to the military and political needs of the nation’s leadership. Furthermore, primary concern for service-oriented privileges is prejudicial to the sound arguments that are sorely needed for enlightened articulation.
The second question “What assurance is there that a SABMIS system . . . would work?” can of course be asked about any new weapon system, new spacecraft or—for that matter—a new human being. There is only one answer to such a question and a rather simple answer—there is never complete assurance. To the extent that intelligent planning, orderly and responsible development, and appropriate evaluation and testing, as feasible, are permitted and supported, the assurance of working—or the system reliability—can be reasonably estimated by computation.
The other questions are reasonable and answerable in both quantitative and qualitative terms. The possible exception is the question referring to the morale of SABMIS crews. The SABMIS Blue and Gold crew system would indeed resemble, if not be patterned after, that of the Polaris crew system, whose morale is probably as good as, if not actually better than that enjoyed by other Navy, Air Force, or Army crews.
In general, Admiral Withington’s questions are frighteningly similar to many which were asked concerning the Polaris system during its development in the 1955-1960 period, even to the concern over operational control.
There can only be one justification for naval forces of any kind—responsiveness to the continuously-evolving security needs of the United States. If the U. S. government determines that there now is a need for ballistic missile defense for whatever purpose, and if it can be demonstrated that sea-based capabilities can provide this capability logically, effectively, and economically, then the Navy must solve the problems which will permit it to deploy a ballistic missile defense which contributes to the preservation of this country. As with the Polaris system, questions on general- purpose forces and operational control will fall into place as secondary issues.
“Inactivation of the Randolph—‘As Gentle a Hardship as Possible . . . ’ ”
(See H. L. Hussmann, pp. 38-48, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Lieutenant Commander J. Russell Henderson, Jr., U. S. Navy, Commanding Officer, USS Tench (SS-417)—Though not as complicated as the inactivation of the Randolph, inactivation of the submarine Tench employed a new concept that smoothed the way for the ships which followed into mothballs. This concept was that of “lead ship,” in which the knowledge of inactivation procedures gained by the crew of the first ship could be passed to the follow-on ships. Through the use of the technical advisors from the lead ship, the USS Becuna (SS-319) and the USS Blenny (SS-324), were able to expedite their inactivations, speeding return of the assigned personnel to the Fleet.
In September 1969, after 21 years of service, the Tench reported to the Inactive Ship Maintenance Facility, Philadelphia (InactShipFacPhila) for the second decommissioning of her career.
As part of the Project 703 inactivations, the Tench had received notification of the impending decommissioning in late August. With approximately two weeks to complete the preliminary ship’s force portion of the inactivation, much planning and hard work was required of all hands. Prior to reporting to Philadelphia, excess fuel, pyrotechnics, and ammunition was to be off-loaded. Current Ship’s Maintenance Project (CSMP) and 3-M records and all supply inventories and allowance lists updated and validated. Activation work requests were prepared for all known repairs and tests, and the crew reduced to 51.
In planning for regular overhaul, which had been scheduled for November 1969, an inspection by the Board of Inspection and Survey had been made, overhaul work package prepared, and on-board equipment had been validated. With the time-consuming portions of the preparation completed, the remaining time could be spent in planning for the inactivation.
All stock record cards were transferred to the Supply and Fiscal Department of the Submarine Base, New London, where they were compared with stock usage records, and all high usage items were taken up in stock. Electronic equipment in a high state of repair and readiness was exchanged with other operating submarines. In one case, transfer of a sonar recording section enabled a fleet ballistic missile submarine to make a patrol commitment with her sonar equipment in peak operating condition.
An advance team from the Inactive Ship Maintenance Facility, Philadelphia, visited the Tench in Groton, Connecticut, and distributed written guidelines. Firm documentation was lacking, since no submarine had joined the mothball fleet at Philadelphia since the 1950s. Using Chapter 9030, “Readiness and Care of Vessels in an Inactive Status”, Naval Ships Technical Manual, and the Inactivation Guide for Surface Vessels, distributed by InactShipFacPhila, manpower requirements and key procedures were determined.
With prior experience in submarine inactivations lacking, it was necessary to groom the published surface ship guidance for use on submarines. Each formal procedure was evaluated for submarine applicability and a new procedure was established.
Mail was re-routed to the parent squadron for screening and was returned to the originator if no longer applicable to a submarine in an inactive status. All Registered Publications System (RPS) distributed and intelligence publications and equipment were either destroyed or returned for reissue. All equipage was transferred to secure storage provided by InactShipFacPhila and highly pilferable items were placed in locked stowage on board. Usable bench spares and short shelf life items were transferred to other units of the Submarine Force for immediate use. All main and auxiliary machinery was inactivated by cleaning and covering with a preservative compound. During the inactivation process, any material discrepancies were either immediately corrected or made the subject of a reactivation shipyard work order.
With the staggered arrival of the follow-on ships at Philadelphia, the experience gained by the lead ship crew was able to be passed on, resulting in efficient usage of follow-on ships’ crew. Upon reporting to Philadelphia, each submarine had 51 men assigned, and after being accepted by InactShipFacPhila, was further reduced to a caretaker crew of 13 men. Acceptance took place after approximately 30 days, and the caretaker crew was amalgamated into the lead ship crew for administrative purposes.
The staff of Naval Inactive Ships Maintenance Facility, Philadelphia, gave general guidance and acted as inspectors for systems and equipment. The initial inspections were done on a piecemeal basis with the final inspections being completed on a compartment and shipboard department basis.
By 1 December 1969, all shipboard work had been done on all the submarines, and the requirement for ship’s force had been reduced to standing security watches. The lead ship crew was reduced to approximately 30 men and two officers. All that remained to be done was the industrial work package consisting of drydocking, spot-blasting and painting, welding of hull openings, and installation of dynamic dehumidification equipment. Based upon drydock and marine railway availability, the last submarine to be inactivated at Philadelphia will be completed by next month, and the remaining men will again be manning active ships.
“What Shall We Wear?”
(See R. H. Schulze, pp. 116-117, December 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Commander T. W. Lyons, U. S. Navy—I agree wholeheartedly with Commander Schulze that we need to reduce the number of uniforms we are required to purchase, maintain, and transport. I do not agree with his suggestion to eliminate the tropical white long, although his comments concerning it are valid.
It should be possible in this day of miracle fabrics to find a white material that will retain its crisp look for more than a few hours. His comments concerning the service dress blue blouse also merit serious discussion.
In addition to eliminating the service dress khaki uniform, I should like to see us eliminate khakis completely. The Army, Air Force, and Marines have no apparent problems with both officers and enlisted men wearing the same fatigues. Why can’t the Navy develop a wash-and-wear blue work uniform the color of the blue working jacket with a heavier long-sleeve shirt for winter wear and a lightweight short-sleeve shirt for summer wear? This could be worn by both officers and enlisted men, with collar devices being the distinguishing feature.
In at least one uniform survey, which I am familiar with, conducted several years ago concerning the possible elimination of service dress khakis, large numbers of non-career junior officers were surveyed. Most of those I knew answered solely on the consideration of wearing out what they had and not having to buy anything new before their time was up. I hope Commander Schulze’s article will stimulate discussion and change. I hope any future surveys will concentrate on those who will consider effects other than the immediate pocketbook one. The right changes could be very beneficial to the pocket-book in the long run.
“Professionalism and Writing”
(See D. W. Brezina, pp. 108-109, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Lieutenant Commander Thomas J. Loftus, U. S. Navy, USS Enterprise (CVAN-65)—Lieutenant Brezina has raised a question in a public forum which has often been raised in private conversation. In the words of a fellow junior officer, when explaining why he didn’t bother to read the PROCEEDINGS, “You have to be a Ph.D. civilian, a commander on shore duty, or an out-to-pasture-on-thirty to write for that magazine.” At first glance, Lieutenant Brezina’s statistics would tend to bear out this criticism: 19 out of 400 comes to an overwhelming total of 4.75 per cent. The issue which contained these statistics also had leading articles by four civilians and five officers, commander or above.
Of course, anyone who reads the PROCEEDINGS regularly will know that there is no de jure prohibition against articles by junior officers. Some do appear often enough to assure the reader that the author’s rank is not the determining factor. The fact that officers like Captain Schratz do go about encouraging younger officers to contribute articles is a step in the right direction. Then there is the page that appears in every issue of the PROCEEDINGS, which advertises the desire of the Naval Institute that any member with a worthwhile idea submit it for publication.
No, I don’t think there is a de jure prohibition against articles by the officers of the last decade, but there does seem to be a de facto scarcity of articles by the members of this group. When one compares the number of comments submitted by our group which appear in the magazine, it is clear that we are reading the articles, we are thinking, and we do have opinions and ideas of our own. Why don’t we then take a more active part in the forum of the front pages? Why do we content ourselves with commenting on another man’s ideas instead of advancing our own?
The first reason for this which comes to mind—and possibly the most common one—is obvious. The officers of the first ten-year generation are by-and-large at sea, learning their trade. The demands made in the ordinary course of a day’s duty, the qualifications to be achieved are sufficiently great so as to leave little time remaining for professional reading and correspondence courses. As a class, the first ten years are busy ones for any officer interested in learning more than his present job. There remains time to comment perhaps, if not to originate.
Secondly, the naval profession is like any other: it has its period of apprenticeship. There are few officers who can, as ensigns, take pens in hand and dash off Prize Essays on topics which are professional in nature and of sufficient scope to be of general interest to the varied audience of the PROCEEDINGS. It is not by accident that the voice of experience which is heard in these articles takes time to gain the strength to be heard.
A third reason is offered. Perhaps the officers of this group have not developed the background, knowledge, or experience which will create a fertile field for original thought in such subjects as strategy and tactics. As an OCS graduate, I can say I have never had one formal word said to me on the subjects of logistics, planning, strategy, or tactics. The schools which do the most to develop these important subjects such as the Naval or National War Colleges, or even the Armed Forces Staff College, are generally reserved for more senior officers than those of this group. But not all learning is to be found in books or classrooms. I had a commodore who, as a National War College graduate, believed the officers in the division’s wardrooms should benefit from the Middle East countries we were visiting. He arranged for us to visit the American Embassy in each country we visited for a briefing on that country.
Another benefit to the education of the junior officers in this area was the opening of the correspondence courses to lieutenants at the Naval War College. As long as the individual can summon the time and the initiative, he can receive some of the same benefits as are available to the resident students at the Naval War College. There are similar courses at other service colleges which will help develop a background against which the junior officer can frame his thoughts.
All this is well and good, but a bit restricted in scope. This same information should be available to the officer, who, while attached to a ship, finds himself visiting his home port possibly three weeks of every six when he is not deployed. There are existing agencies in most of the home ports of the East and West coasts which could present lecture series in such subjects as strategy, tactics, planning, logistics, and management. For instance, at the Naval War College in Newport, some of the lectures given by visiting experts are given at night and are open for all who wish to attend. The same is probably true at the Armed Forces Staff College in Norfolk. What is needed is an organized effort by the senior officers, in each port, to develop lectures along this line. They would have to be given at a time when Fleet officers could attend, and would have to be self-contained so that an officer could go to sea and return and not miss the whole thread of thought. These lectures would have to be publicized so that the officers from the ships would attend and not just those assigned to the schools. Many officers’ clubs have topical lectures for their members, but the lectures suggested here would go beyond this.
If the interest of the officers of this decade is to be broadened, an effort must be made to organize just such a series of lectures on a continuing basis, which will be at once interesting, professional, and mutually enriching to the individual and the Navy. A seminar is conducted every year in management for senior officers, but there is no reason why a simplified version could not be conducted for the future senior officers in time to give them and the Navy the benefit of this knowledge over the middle years of their careers.
The benefits of such training would be manyfold. The topics discussed in the lectures would return to the ships’ wardrooms, where they would enhance the knowledge of other officers as well. Who knows, this education might even catch the interest of some officers who have become bored and disinterested in a Navy which, to them, seems all maneuvering boards, supply requisitions, and division officers’ records.
If the Navy is to develop “more junior Mahans,” it would do well to court the interest and develop the knowledge and latent talents of its junior officers.
Old Navy—“The Cruise of the Neversink”
(See T. K. Thomas, pp. 151-153, October 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Professor W. H. Russell, English, History, and Government Department, U. S. Naval Academy—Mr. Thomas fell into the unfortunate error of attributing to Jack Chase, Captain of the Main Top (a petty officer), action which Herman Melville ascribed to a lieutenant, U. S. Navy, and officer-of-the deck (whom the sailors called Mad Jack). Although Mr. Thomas’ article deals with passages in a novel, White Jacket, written over 100 years ago by Herman Melville, the situation proves timeless, hence it deserves accurate treatment.
Melville set his vignette on the quarterdeck of a U. S. frigate, rounding Cape Horn in heavy weather. A sudden gust pushed the ship almost onto her beam ends. Her captain ran onto the deck, and without relieving the OD, gave an order to the helmsmen. The OD firmly overruled him. The captain gave silent assent. Clearly the situation raised an issue—as Melville well knew; but not the issue of a petty officer overruling the responsible deck officer of a U. S. warship.
I am familiar with Melville’s White Jacket, and the light it throws on leadership problems, from discussing the book in class with many midshipmen, as well as with Professor Wilson Heflin, Rear Admiral John D. Hayes, U. S. Navy (Retired), and others expert in Melville’s crusade toward a relevant naval service. Hence, I hope that you received other letters that emphasize the distinction between Jack Chase and Mad Jack.
Professor Robert E. Johnson, History Department, University of Alabama—There is no doubt as to the identity of the individual who, as officer of the deck, retained the speaking trumpet and issued the orders which Melville credited with saving the ship. The following quotations are from Herman Melville’s White Jacket, and The World in a Man-of-War (New York: Grove Press, 1952):
In a sudden gale, or when a large quantity of sail is suddenly to be furled, it is the custom for the first lieutenant to take the trumpet from whoever happens then to be officer of the deck. But Mad Jack had the trumpet that watch; nor did the first lieutenant seek to wrest it from his hands. Every eye was upon him, as if we had chosen him from among us all, to decide this battle with the elements, by single combat with the spirit of the Cape; for Mad Jack was the saving genius of the ship, and so proved himself that night. . . .
“Hard up the helm!” shouted Captain Claret, bursting from his cabin like a ghost in his nightdress.
“Damn you!” raged Mad Jack to the quartermasters; “hard down—hard down, I say, and be damned to you!”
Contrary orders! but Mad Jack’s were obeyed.
Thomas has the frigate’s topsails going “by the board” in heavy seas. One doubts that this is technically correct. Her masts might have gone by the board, but hardly her sails—they would have been blown out by the force of the wind—probably not from any effect of heavy seas.
EDITOR’S NOTE: The preceding quotation from Melville’s White Jacket sets to right another error. The command to put the helm hard down was given by Mad Jack, not Captain Claret, as Mr. Thomas says on page 153 of the October 1969 PROCEEDINGS. Captain Claret’s order for up helm was countermanded by Mad Jack, his purpose being to save the ship by forcing her bow into the wind thus relieving the pressure on her sails.
The Ship That Sailed Without Sails
John Bunker—A windjammer that sailed without sails, a seagoing merry-go-round, or a schooner with chimneys, were but a few of the names given to the RV Baden-Baden, one of the strangest ships ever to sail the seas. She was a vessel that pioneered an entirely new concept in seagoing locomotion.
The RV stood for “rotor vessel” and the Baden-Baden had just completed the first ocean voyage ever made by a vessel under rotor power. She was one of two such vessels, and was created by Anton Flettner, a German inventor, who had conceived a radical way of harnessing the wind to propel ships. Instead of masts and yards, the Baden-Baden was fitted with two tall metal towers which one observer described as “a couple of barnyard silos whirling at bow and stern.” These towers, which Flettner called rotary sails, transferred wind action into thrust for moving the ship.
The result of several years of experimentation, the Baden-Baden was intended to show how the wind could be used as an auxiliary power for diesel or steam ships, conserving fuel on long voyages. These were the cost-conscious years of the 1920s, when shipowners were looking for the small operating advantages that meant the difference between profit and loss.
Flettner began his experiments in improving the efficiency and usefulness of wind-driven ships at the end of World War I. In 1922, he organized the Institute of Hydro and Aerodynamics to investigate ways of improving wind propulsion, with the emphasis on radical designs in sails in order to reduce drag. These experiments showed that metal sails could propel a vessel at least 50 per cent more efficiently than canvas. From this, Flettner developed the concept of rotating cylinders to do away with sails entirely.
He believed such a device would produce from eight to ten times as much pressure and force as sails of equal size, regardless of wind direction. Model tests convinced him that this was a fact and not just a speculative theory. Flettner and associates purchased the barkentine Buckau, stripped away her masts and rigging, and converted her into the first rotor ship. This vessel was 160 feet long, with a beam of 36 feet, and had a draft of 11 feet.
Prior to conversion, the ship carried 8,500 square feet of canvas. The two rotors had an area of 850 square feet. In addition to the rotors, there was a 200-h.p. diesel engine driving a single screw for propulsion in calm or light winds or, if desired, to supplement the rotor power.
The methodical Flettner made models of the Buckau as a sailing ship and as a rotor ship, and then put them through wind tunnel tests to gauge the relative stability under all wind conditions.
The Buckau's rotors were cylinders 50 feet high, nine feet in diameter and were made of 3/65-inch steel sheets stiffened by longitudinal and transverse bracing. Two 11-kw. motors were used to impel the rotors, housed in the base of pivots that supported the rotor towers. Power for these motors came from a generator driven by a 45 Germania Werfft diesel engine.
Trial runs in the Baltic in October 1924, “exceeded all expectations,” according to the inventor. Heavy squalls had no bad effect on the ship or her sailing qualities.
The Buckau made several trial runs in the Baltic before leaving on her first voyage from Danzig to Firth of Forth, Scotland, in February 1926. It was a stormy trip, but the vessel handled perfectly.
Flettner purchased the ship from his associates, changed her name to Baden-Baden, and sent her on the historic 6,000-mile trip across the Atlantic. She sailed from the Elbe on 2 April 1926, with a crew of 15 under Captain Peter Callsen, a veteran of 14 sailing ship voyages around Cape Horn. Callsen had to rely on the ship’s diesel engine for propulsion during several calm days, but when the winds were brisk, the rotors “whirled smoothly and silently” within their yellow towers. The Baden-Baden sailed into New York’s Hudson River 9 May at a speed of 8½ knots under rotor power alone. She had proved the point that Flettner wanted to make to the shipping industry—that a steam or diesel-driven vessel could employ rotors to achieve a fair turn of speed at small cost and save substantially on fuel consumption during a long voyage.
Despite her successful trip across the Atlantic and home again, the Baden-Baden inspired only one other rotor ship. She was the three-rotor Barbara, an auxiliary motor vessel built by A. G. Weser at Bremen in 1926 and then operated by R. M. Sloman of Hamburg in the Mediterranean fruit trade. The Barbara was a single-screw freighter of 2,077 gross tons, with three rotor towers and two six-cylinder diesel engines.
The Depression, which was partly responsible for the quick death of Flettner’s idea, caused the Barbara to be laid up for lack of business. In 1933, she was sold to the Bugsier Line of Hamburg, was stripped of her rotors, and renamed Birkenau. She was then operated as an ordinary motor ship. This ship served throughout World War II and until 1963 under the Danish flag as the Else Skou. She then served in the Mediterranean as the Greek ship Fotis P, and is presently under the Saudi Arabian flag, operating for the Greek Libyan Lines as the Star of Riyadh.
After her brief career as a rotor ship, the Baden-Baden was also stripped of her rotors, converted to a schooner under the Panamanian flag, and then to Costa Rican registry as the Rio Mozara. The name Baden-Baden was restored to her in 1931, and in November of that year she was abandoned at sea while bound from Colombia to Panama. Derelict and waterlogged, the old ship went down bearing the name that she had made famous in her brief career as one of the strangest ships ever to sail the seas.
Let’s Try to Retain the Forgotten Men
Senior Chief Signalman Ronald A. Hunter, U. S. Navy, Career Counselor, USS Grand Canyon (AD-28)—A Navy seaman was being discharged from his ship after completing four years of exemplary service. He carried outstanding semi-annual marks throughout his enlistment as a deck seaman.
Why is the Navy losing this model sailor? Because he belongs to a large percentage of people who could very easily be classified as “The Forgotten Men.”
Throughout his enlistment he was not able to “strike” for a professional rating other than boatswain’s mate, because no relief was available to take his place. Consequently, this seaman and many other men of this same caliber are leaving the Navy as soon as possible.
Many senior petty officers and officers feel that a man of his caliber should have advanced in four years of service. This is true if the individual wanted to become a boatswain’s mate, which is the only field of advancement open to him as a deck seaman. As a career counselor and senior petty officer for many years in the Navy, the explanations I receive from these Forgotten Men are that they don’t advance beyond E-3 because the field of advancement they desire is not open to them. This is because they could not be relieved on the deck force, consequently they are just waiting out their enlistment. Many, of these men say, “If I could have just had the opportunity to strike for a rating I wanted, it would certainly have enhanced my outlook on the Navy as a career.”
First off, let us look at the problem of providing reliefs for these men, who, if given the opportunity, would make the Navy a career.
On board many of our ships today, we are receiving many men who possess a college education, and who are only in the Navy to perform their obligated service. A majority of them—some who are on two-year enlistments—are not assigned to deck divisions, but instead, are immediately placed in a field of training commensurate with their educational background. These men serve their enlistments and take their discharge, which is very understandable. They will normally advance to petty officer second class before leaving the Navy. Thus, the Navy has provided them with a good wage for their services while they are completing their military obligation. This is money that could have been paid to a man on the deck force if he had been relieved by this individual from college. The Navy’s chance of retaining the deck seaman are tremendously higher than that of the college graduate. This is one way of providing reliefs for the deck personnel.
Another way would be to stop issuing shore duty orders to seamen and firemen apprentices graduating from recruit training. This would put several potential reliefs on board ships to replace the deck seaman who has worked hard and desires to pursue a different occupation.
As for the retention program throughout the Navy, there is a way in which almost everyone could be placed in his desired occupational field, rather than in a field for which he is better qualified according to his basic battery scores.
What I am trying to point out is that through experience as a recruit company commander, I have observed several recruits classified and recommended for schools 180 degrees away from their desires. Of course, I realize that in the many programs for retention, the Navy must parallel needs and demands.
Not many of these men really know what the field of their choice encompasses: They are, for their first three weeks of recruit training, shown films of the various professional field. Each recruit company is given copies of the Navy Occupational Handbook for the men to read during the first three weeks. There is no appreciable amount of spare time for any man to decide what path of advancement he would like to undertake in the Navy. So, what it really boils down to, is that many men are sent to service schools with only a vague understanding of what occupation they would like to pursue. A certain percentage of these men, after a short time, become unhappy and leave the Navy when their enlistment is up. Some men will fail in the service school owing to lack of interest, and their quota could have been given to someone more deserving in the Fleet.
How can we alleviate the problem of placing men in the wrong occupation? My recommendation is one that will require a lot of work and will show no immediate appreciable change. However, I believe that it can be done.
Let us take everyone graduating from recruit training and place them at sea, where they can actually see most of the duties of the various Navy rates being performed. These men could relieve other men in the Fleet, who can fill the school quotas needed to keep up the Navy’s high standard of readiness. The end result would be a higher retention rate of satisfied men who would choose the Navy as a career.
On the subject of variable re-enlistment bonus (VRB), I have always felt that a man cannot be bought into making the Navy a career. If this is so, the Navy is not getting the best man. I feel that a bonus is a great incentive for making a career of the Navy, but this should only be paid at the completion of 20 or more years of active service. I propose that it could be figured on a formula, for example, $500.00 for each year of active service completed. When a man reaches the end of his four-year enlistment, the Navy could put $10,000 aside for this man in an investment. The individual would be paid this bonus upon completion of 20 or more years. If the man decides after 12 or 14 years to get out, the Navy has lost no money. In fact, it regains the initial $10,000 bonus plus the interest the money has drawn. A man retiring from the Navy could certainly use this little “nest egg” to help him in his civilian endeavor. The Navy would not be going to the expense of paying regular or super re-enlistment bonuses. There are people in the Navy who re-enlist for the VRB, and then, after the completion of their enlistment, take their discharge. Particularly noticeable in this category, are those coming in on two-year enlistments. We have not only paid these people a nice bonus, but also a great number of VRB-four (top bonus) people, after becoming career-designated, receive pro-pay while they are awaiting for [sic] their enlistment to expire.
With the current ideas of thinking in terms of the all-voluntary Armed Forces, I sincerely believe that all aspects and recommendations of retention programs should be studied intensively, so we can retain our volunteers, cutting down the cost and time to train and recruit new volunteers.
“The NROTC Crisis”
(See pp. 109-113, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain A. Winslow, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)—Many aspects and facets of this problem have been given both intelligent exposure and some constructive treatment in the PROCEEDINGS during the past few months. The various forces contributing to the problem have been observed, and solutions of a partial nature offered. However, a thorough evaluation of the negative factors in the problem, that is, of their true effect and impact has not been projected. The real core of the problem has not been clearly differentiated from all the other false scents, coincidental pressures, and symptomatic ills that have dramatized the situation and brought on the crises. Perhaps, now, with a harder look, we can spell out the differences or at least attempt to categorize the various forces at work and thus get at the core of the problem.
Under the category of false scents, I would place three phenomena having real impact on the problem. All are of totally different derivation, but none really at the true core of the problem per se.
For some time across the nation, and particularly at some Ivy League colleges, the ROTC has served as the whipping boy for Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) and other radical activists. It has provided a focal point for the outrageous demands of anti-war, anti-Vietnam, and anti-establishment disrupters who have come to college not to learn or even to demonstrate peacefully, but to disrupt. These “Walter Mittys of the New Left,” as President Nathan Pusey of Harvard has so aptly named them, are fantasy weavers who, unfortunately, have been listened to out of all proportion to their worth entirely because of the negative but strongly compelling reasons of the unpopularity of the Vietnam War and of the draft. Although their disruptive tactics have had more or less temporary effect depending on the degree of firmness with which they have been met by campus administrators, I would discount any serious lasting effect other than a counterbalancing of their tactics by restrictive legislation or stiffening of university administrative response.
A second false scent is the charge by university administrators and faculty that the ROTC is too much a vocational or vocational-professional type course to be credited today in an undergraduate curriculum. President Kingman Brewster of Yale has made a valid point in his position that, with technology changing so fast and knowledge growing so rapidly in so many fields, it should be the goal more than ever today of the liberal arts college and engineering and scientific undergraduate school to teach the basic truths, theories, and disciplines, and keep away from any specialization or vocationalism.
The undergraduate years are the time to acquire the basics and the theory, and all “how-to” courses should come at some other time. The point is well made, but I would not agree that, although the curriculum may have been too vocational at one time, the NROTC curriculum today need suffer from being too narrow and vocational any more than say basic economics is vocational for business administration or electrical theory or general physics is vocational for a broad engineering program. It really boils down to a curriculum choice and to the question of where the line may be drawn as to what is basic background and what is vocational “how to.”
Another false scent (and this is pure conjecture), is that a number of college administrators hold that the real problem facing the continuation of the ROTC is that the interest in the ROTC and application level, will fall to near zero on termination of either or both the Vietnam War and the draft—since the only thing holding up the ROTC is the fact that it is a draft haven and affords at least a temporary escape from the war. Perhaps this is true to a degree, but I believe that although there would be a considerable drop in entrance level, the ROTC would survive if its real problems were solved.
Coincidental pressures on the problem are brought to bear inadvertently from three different sources.
First, there is a large, undoubtedly well-meaning body of fairly average citizens perhaps a little left-of-center, perhaps a little isolationist, some to the right-of-center, who have a vague distrust of what has become known as the military-industrial block. These people distrust the military in general and entertain various misconceptions as to their worth and place in the scheme of things. The ROTC was something to be tolerated during World War II, but they see no need for it now and would like to see it abolished before we become a militaristic state dominated by the generals, admirals, and a few super industrial giants.
Secondly, there is another smaller group of liberal intellectuals who, though wholeheartedly subscribing to the ideas of a large, centrally-powerful federal government and creeping socialism, consider anything to do with the military as anathema, and anyone connected with the military to be approaching qualification as a moron. Needless to say, although this group’s influence is limited, they are listened to more often than they should be.
A third phenomenon having some impact on the future of the NROTC, is the growing importance of OCS as a source of junior officers both in regard to quality and quantity. Some claim this means of officer procurement will eventually eclipse and effectively supplant the ROTC as the primary source of both regular and reserve officers second only in quality to the hard core of the Service Academies. I cannot agree with this. The nature of OCS is that of compressed, intensified training, in a relatively short, highly-scheduled period of time. On the other hand, the NROTC, in the college atmosphere, extends over four years and should provide time for basics, understanding, and stretching of the mind, as well as grounding in professional subjects and practical application on summer cruises. There seems little doubt as to which method would be preferred to achieve sound basic background from which to progress. Specifics in the Navy, as well as in industry, still have to be learned, both in postgraduate vocational or professional schools, and in on-the-job training.
When we consider the present symptomatic ills in connection with the ROTC, we are getting close to the real problem.
During the 1930s and 1940s, and to a lesser extent in the 1950s, the federal government and universities had growing needs for each other. The universities needed the added support of federal funding, the government needed growing ROTC programs and research from university brain power. It was a mutually helpful alliance, and such considerations as academic prerogatives could be sacrificed for the sake of expediency not untouched by patriotism. During the 1960s, however, this trend has reversed, and the partnership is now traversing a rocky road.
Universities still need the help of federal funds, but a strong anti-ROTC feeling exists in the faculties. This has been engendered partly by the unpopularity of the Vietnam War and the feeling that the imposition of ROTC and non-academic control and standards need no longer be accepted in the name of patriotism or the national interest. It is now time for university administrators and faculty to reassert themselves and insist that no academic credit be granted for courses unless they are taught and administered by academic standards. This strong feeling, spreading throughout Ivy League colleges and other early bastions of NROTC, is impacting directly at the core of the problem.
The result of this attitude is that steps are being taken to disallow college credits for NROTC courses while continuing the program on a non-credit basis. Although some attempt is being made to make it possible for the undergraduate to carry no-credit NROTC and still graduate without being pressed to the wall, it is apparent that this situation will eventually cause the program’s demise unless measures are taken to save it.
I would like to propose that there be periodic overhauling of the NROTC curriculum to keep up with current needs. The corollary to this curriculum is that it should be taught by the college faculty, under academic standards, and awarded academic credits. In addition, basic professional subjects, such as seamanship, tactics, weapons and ordnance, navigation and nautical astronomy, communications, marine engineering, and military law must also be offered, taught, and administered under academic standards for credit.
Possibly the biggest hurdle in the problem would be the negotiating of the details between the military and the individual universities or colleges. Such procedures are not new, since contracts are renegotiated on a periodic basis. Through joint action of the military and the universities and colleges the ROTC program can be saved.
“Stingray ’70”
(See F. J. West, Jr., pp. 26-37, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Jack E. Post—I could not help but be reminded of a letter to General “Hap” Arnold, written 1 January 1943 from General George Kenney, the Air Chief of the South Pacific stationed in New Guinea. I quote in part:
. . . This final, hand-to-hand, cut-throat, no-quarter, battle-to-extinction of the Jap, who is a master craftsman at organizing a piece of ground for a last-ditch defense, is what takes time. Our troops are not trained for it. Our school books haven’t been teaching this game. This is a war of the highly-trained squad, the section and the platoon, whose actions must be coordinated by smart company and battalion commanders. We have got to get back to the days when we learned how to fight the Indians in the woods and eventually beat them at their own game. In this theatre we need lots of aircraft, lots of engineers to build and maintain airdromes, and a lot of comparatively small, highly-trained combat units of jungle fighters who can go over the trails, or be transported by air, or use native canoes, or barges, to work along the coast. They must, above all, be trained in night fighting. They must know how to live off the country, supplemented with iron rations on their backs, for a couple of weeks at a time. They have got to learn how to keep from getting sick. We have evacuated around 6,000 from the north coast to Moresby by air this month, and three-fourths of them are sick. Some of it can’t be helped, but lots of it can, with better education and discipline of the soldiers. . . .
It would appear that in the 27 years from New Guinea, 1943 to Vietnam, 1970, neither the enemy nor the conditions have changed that much.
“HMS Centaur at Dar es Salaam”
(See D. K. Hankinson, pp. 56-66, November 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain Lefteris Lavrakas, U. S. Navy, Defense Attaché, Embassy of the United States, The Hague, Netherlands—The incident covered describes a classic, albeit small-scale, amphibious operation which should serve many a classroom lesson and discussion. Besides proving the value of decisiveness and professional skill as demonstrated by Captain Steiner, the commanding officer of the Centaur, this story shows clearly the importance of simplicity in the command and control organization. Captain Steiner’s orders were to “disarm Tanganyikan Army Colito barracks soonest.” This was the only signal from Ministry of Defense, London. Having under his command the necessary forces, and aided by sufficient intelligence to make his decision, the good Captain then acted. As the author notes, this “swift intervention” had repercussions, which assisted in stabilizing not only the situation in Dar es Salaam, but also in the rest of the country and in East Africa.
There may be for our country a lesson to be learned. My limited experience—one WestPac cruise—proved to me how complicated and complex the command, control, and reporting system functioned in Vietnam. The tremendous restrictions and limitations, as well as a massive reporting system from the top to the bottom and back again, made operations of this nature almost impossible. Turning back the pages of history to the Gulf of Tonkin incident, one is compelled to wonder if the original order to attack PT boat bases et al. was given with the same “objective” in mind as at Dar es Salaam.
Although it was not a punitive operation, the landing of British commandos and their reception ashore might have required a more aggressive role by the participants. A show of force, so swiftly applied, however, produced the desired military and political results.
Notebook Item—“Famous Navy Diver Dies”
(See pp. 156-157, October 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Chief Gunner’s Mate, Robert A. Winters, U. S. Navy (Retired)—I read with a great deal of interest, nostalgia, and pride, your reprint of the obituary of Lieutenant Commander Edward P. Clayton. I thought you might be interested in some more comments on this most interesting career in the U. S. Navy.
Having served with Clayton in Underwater Demolition Team 21 in the Pacific War, I knew him to be the personification of the technical competence the Navy sought. Team 21 had departed the Amphibious Base at Fort Pierce, Florida, without a commanding officer, and, had been at the Advance Demolition Training Base on Maui, T. H., a few weeks when Clayton, then a lieutenant, arrived. With the experience of the European theater behind him, he had a keen knowledge of water, explosives, and how to handle men, and we soon found ourselves combat ready. When the Team left Maui, Clayton had one basic requirement—that as a team we should be able to leave the ship at a moment’s notice. He made daily inspections through the troop compartments, checking the combat swimmer’s paraphernalia, which he required to be hanging on the bunk chains. His admonition “keep your stuff up to snuff” is still remembered by men of the Team.
Though he commanded the junior team, his fetish for readiness took Team 21 into more operations than any other team, often being the sole Team involved. However, fewer men in Team 21 were decorated for their exploits than the other combat-tested teams. I suppose this was because Clayton looked upon these as routine duties for men. He did, nevertheless, make sure that the service record of every man in the Team contained the fact that this unit was the first in the U. S. Navy to land in Japan.
Two minor inaccuracies are noted. In Europe, the Navy’s demolition men were drawn up in groups known as Naval Combat Demolition Units and it was under that name that they went into Normandy and Southern France with the Army Combat Engineers prior to the H-hour landings. Secondly, we didn’t swim in to the Futtsu Beach, but we did go into that area with some men in swim gear and we did have the ensign flying for the first time on the boats. The photograph was taken on the morning of 28 August 1945. As far as I know, this is a copy of the only photograph showing Clayton receiving the “sword of surrender” from a flustered commander of the Coast Artillery Post at Futtsu Saki Peninsula in Japan.
After the war, Clayton reverted back to chief metalsmith and served in master diving billets on board the USS Kittiwake (ASR-13) and at the Deep Sea Diving School, Washington, D. C. In 1953, I was Clayton’s instructor when he attended the Explosive Ordnance Disposal School at Indian Head, Maryland. From there, he went on to serve in the Korean conflict.
I particularly like the comment of one of his shipmates from Deep Sea Diving days: “. . . he was just a little bit bigger than life size.”
“A Profile of Soviet Military/Naval Schools”
(See J. A. Fahey, pp. 134-136, August 1969 PROCEEDINGS)
Captain William C. Chapman, U. S. Navy (Retired)—Commander Fahey’s description of the Soviet military/naval school system casts light on an intriguing and important subject. A recent, significant development in Soviet military affairs that has gone unnoticed in the press has been the increasing effort that the Soviets appear to be giving to military education. Since 1966, it would appear that they have added some 16 new military “colleges” (13 in 1968 alone), while some 30 “colleges” have been upgraded to the status of “higher colleges.” Such an investment of effort and resources shows a continuing resolve to improve the capability of the Kremlin’s military machine.
The uninitiated should be warned, however, that Commander Fahey’s article is no definitive guide to the subject. In the necessary over-simplification of a complicated subject, he has introduced certain errors of omission, commission, and emphasis.
His lead paragraph suggests that the Frunze Academy provides all postgraduate education for the Soviet officer corps. Although probably the premier institution, the Frunze Academy is, in fact, but one of at least 18 military/naval academies now active. Filials—branches—of some of these have been known to exist. These academies range from the prestigious Voroshilov Academy of the General Staff to those more specialized in their curriculum, such as the Military Academy of Chemical Defense, the Kirov Military-Medical Academy, and the Military Academy of the Rear and Transport.
The Soviet Navy has its Naval Academy in Leningrad, dating from 1828 and since awarded the Orders of Lenin and Ushakov, plus the Naval Academy of Ship Construction and Armament named for A. N. Krylov. He was a professor at the Naval Academy for 48 years, winner of a Stalin Prize in 1941, and author of a 1908 study, Vibration of Ships. The Soviet Air Forces honored the first man in space, naval aviator Iuri A. Gagarin, by naming its Military Air Academy for him in 1968 after his fatal airplane crash. The Gagarin Academy is located at Monino, near Moscow, and dates from 1927. The Air Forces also sponsor the Zhukovskii Military Air Engineer Academy, which opened in 1920 in Leningrad.
The Ground Forces fare better with academies than their two junior services. In addition to Frunze, there are the Malinovskii Academy of the Armored Forces, the Kalinin Military Artillery Academy, three Military Engineer academies—Kuibyshev 1819 and Dzerzhinskii 1820, both in Moscow, and the Mozhaiskii in Leningrad. The Military Academy of Chemical Defense and the Military Academy of Communications are also under Army sponsorship.
The other two services of the Soviet Armed Forces could also be expected to have their own academies. The PVO (National Anti-Aircraft Defense) has the Military Command Academy of Troops of the PVO, headed by Colonel General of Aviation Zimin. The Govorov Artillery Radiotechnical Academy in Kharkov would seem to provide for the needs of the Strategic Rocket Forces, but a recent announcement connects it instead with the PVO. There seems to be no specific academy for the rocketeers.
The Main Political administration of the Soviet Army and Navy has its own postgraduate school, the Lenin Military-Political Academy in Moscow. The various branches of the Ministry of Defense of the Soviet Union also foster specialized higher education, the Rear Services being supported by the Military Academy of the Rear and Transport, located in Leningrad. (The Academies of Chemical Defense and of Communications may be subordinated directly to the Ministry of Defense instead of to the Ground Forces.)
Commander Fahey’s statement that candidates for postgraduate training must be under 40 years of age is too strictly defined and modified. Generalizations about anything Russian are dangerous, and generalizations about military schooling are no exception. Certain academies, the Zhukovskii Air Engineer Academy, for instance, in their latest advertisements specify no age limit. Others on occasion have had lower limits. The Govorov Academy had a 38-year age limit in 1965 for its advanced engineering courses. In 1967, however, the age limit was 40 for the same course, but at the same time, the Academy imposed a 28-year age limit for its basic five-year course. Simultaneously, it advertised a 45-year age limit for the six-year correspondence course. Its limits in 1970 are 28 years for the “first course,” and there are no age limits for the correspondence course.
The academies, like our own war colleges, offer a range of courses. One of the Soviet cosmonauts, Belaev, completed a three-year course at the Air Academy in 1959 and was enrolled in a correspondence course at the same academy in 1965.
To complete a discussion of the academies, one notes that foreign officers, at least from the Warsaw Pact nations, attend the academies and take honored roles with their Soviet classmates in graduation ceremonies.
Looking to what Commander Fahey has noted as “intermediate” and “advanced schools,” this choice of words is less than optimum. There exists in the Soviet general (civilian) education system a category of “intermediate”—srednii—schools. They are at a high school level. An enlisted man may get “intermediate technical training.” Iuri Gagarin graduated from the Saratov srednii industrial’nii tekhnikum before going on to pilot training at the Chkalov Military Aviation “College.” It is probably better to refer to “colleges” and “higher colleges,” since the Soviet institutions under discussion fulfill this function of advanced education. The distinction is arguable, certainly, particularly because of the “trade school” nature of most of Soviet education and military education in particular. In American parlance, one would not expect to graduate from college with a chauffeur’s license, but that is the distinction achieved by some graduates of the Vol’sk Military College.
In 1939, according to the Great Soviet Encyclopedia, there were 109 military colleges, 63 subordinate to the Ground Forces, 32 to the Air Forces, and 14 to the Navy. Today, there are at least 95 higher colleges and more than 26 colleges. It could be misleading to equate the 1939 school with its 1969 counterpart, since one would assume considerable improvement.
Identifying the educational establishments with their sponsors, and commencing with the Navy, we find nine higher naval colleges under the Navy itself. Judging by their names, four would seem to be general line schools; three are identified as engineering; one is electronics; and one is submarines. There is a tenth higher naval college, the Kiev Higher Naval-Political College, unique in that it is far removed from salt water. It is, in fact, one of seven higher military-political colleges, covering most of the spectrum of military interests: naval (Kiev); engineer and communications troops (Donetsk); combined arms (Novosibirsk); PVO (Leningrad); construction (Simferopol’); tank/ artillery (Sverdlovsk); and the direct offspring of the Main Political Administration, the Lvov Higher Military-Political College of the Soviet Army and Navy. Why airmen are spared the joys of political indoctrination is not clear. (The writer refers to an absence of political schools identified with aviation, not to the title of the Lvov School. The Soviets never dignify the Air Forces by including them in the official title of their armed services.)
The Air Forces sponsor some 13 higher colleges, all of their officer training now being elevated to this level. These include ten colleges for pilot training, two for navigator training, and one aviation-engineer college. The PVO also has 13 colleges, five at the higher level and eight more basic schools. It has its own higher college for pilot training, two higher colleges of radio-technical education, and two higher anti-aircraft rocket colleges. There is also a PVO higher military-political college, but it is not counted here. PVO basic colleges include five anti-aircraft rocket colleges, an aviation-technical college, and two radiotechnical colleges.
It is difficult to sort out which institutions may report directly to the Ground Forces and which to branches of the Ministry of Defense. There are some 55 higher colleges in question, including artillery, tank, engineer, automobile, communications, chemical defense, paratroop, construction, topographical, and combined arms. Fifteen colleges in this category are identified as artillery, communications, line of communications (railroad troops), chemical defense, construction, and two quartermaster schools identified simply as “military colleges.” One specializes in finance and the other in supply and commissary.
As for the Strategic Rocket Forces, it does not pay to generalize about Soviet affairs. Their colleges are not identified, and must be included in the artillery, engineer, and communications colleges previously noted.
A list of Soviet military colleges is not complete without including the Higher Military College of Border Guards MGB, a military civil defense college, and two MGB colleges. One should also take into account other educational establishments at varying levels.
There are special correspondence courses offered only to the military by the major universities (the Lononoiov Moscow State University, Kazan’ State University, et al.). Included also are several Nakhimov and Suvorov elementary schools, such as the Moscow Construction Tekhnikum (high school lever), under the aegis of the Ministry of Defense, the Scientific-Test Institute of the Air Forces (test pilot school), the Military Pedagogical Institute, the Red Army Chorus’s alma mater at the Military Director Faculty of the Tchaikovskii Conservatory, the Higher Officers’ Courses known as [“]Vystrel” (co-ordination of gunfire), Higher Central Officer Courses of Civil Defense, the Military Institute of Foreign Languages, the Institute of Military History, the Military Faculty of Physical Culture and Sport (offering a four-year residence course, probably for recruits to the Soviet Olympic teams.)
Certainly, no serious student could overlook the Central Order of Red Star School of Military Dog Training!
“Aide and Comfort to the Admiral”
(See W. D. Toole, Jr., pp. 46-49, September 1969; and p. 100, January 1970 PROCEEDINGS)
Rear Admiral Juan H. Questa, Argentine Navy (Retired)—I was happily surprised when I read Captain Toole’s article, because it shows that the seriousness and responsibility of military life are not in collision with an intelligent sense of humor showing the pleasant side of any problem.
As a young officer, for five long years, I wore the aiguillettes showing that I too, belonged to that “. . . small fraternity that has survived the trial by fire.”
In the Argentine Navy, it is commonly accepted that the origin of aides’ aiguillettes goes back to Napoleon’s time, when the Emperor, being tired of asking his aide for a pencil, who never had it anyway, put an end to the problem by forcing him to wear two pencils hanging from the neck. True or not, many times I felt a desperate need for pencils to be attached to aiguillettes, especially when my admiral ordered me to take down some notes and I could not do so for lack of this vital, indispensable tool.
One of the most important qualities of the perfect aide is to know how to lie with authority. On one occasion, the Chief of Naval Operations was to receive a visit from an old civilian friend, who was given to excessive chatter. He ordered me to leave him alone with his friend for only 15 minutes, and to make him depart thereafter “with any excuse.” After 15 minutes, I entered the admiral’s office and told him the Chief of the Operations Department of the General Staff had to have his signature on “a secret and urgent despatch for the Commander in Chief of the Fleet.” The visitor stood up immediately, apologizing for bothering him with such unimportant talk, and departed. When I came back to my office, the admiral ordered me to bring in immediately the Chief of the Operations Department with the secret despatch. To arrive at such convincing perfection as a liar is rather satisfying.
It is not wise, of course, for aides to feel excessively satisfied with themselves, because they can have terrible disappointments.
Once when I was a captain, I served as aide to an American admiral visiting Buenos Aires. Accompanied by me and the U. S. Chargé d’Affaires, the admiral was received by the President of Argentina. I had requested an interpreter who could speak both English and Spanish, and he was promised to me, but failed to appear. The President, not being very strong in the English language, used me as his translator, directing me to tell the admiral that he was “very glad to receive him at Buenos Aires, that the Argentine people felt great affection to the people of the big nation of the North, that the Argentine Armed Forces felt great admiration for those of the United States and that he hoped the relations between both countries would become more intimate every day.” When the President finished, his speech had been so long I could not remember it, even in Spanish, and could only say: “The President is very glad to have you here.” The Admiral, then asked me to answer the President that “he was very pleased to visit Buenos Aires, that the North American people had great admiration for Argentina, that his country’s Armed Forces had a high opinion of the Argentine Armed Forces, and although they were small they had a high morale and were well-trained, and that he hoped the relations between both countries would become more intimate every day.” Of course the only thing I remembered was: “The Admiral is very glad to be here.” And so, there was an abrupt finish to my career as a translator.
On another occasion, my friend Lieutenant Z. was Commander’s aide in our old sailing school ship, the Presidente Sarmiento. Knowing French, Lieutenant Z. performed as aide at the port of Burdeos where the ship was at anchor because of pier space. When the commanding officer and the aide were leaving the ship, in white uniform for a ceremony ashore, while descending the accommodation ladder, Z. stumbled and fell into the water. Very angry, the commanding officer decided to go on alone, ordering the aide to change his clothes and wait for the launch he would send back to him. When Lieuten[a]nt Z. was again on deck wearing another clean, white uniform, the boat had not yet come; however, some people in a motor-boat close by, admiring the beautiful sailing ship, offered to take him to the pier. As there was a lovely young French lady in the craft, the lieutenant accepted very willingly. Descending the ladder, he jumped lightly to show off his athletic ability, and landed feet first on top of the small cabin, which was made of plywood. The wood broke and the lieutenant fell inside; only his head, minus cap, was visible. His uniform was again ruined. A third uniform, borrowed from a shipmate, saved the day but this time the executive officer took no chances; he ordered the lieutenant into the other ship’s launch, which was still on deck, and had it lowered with the aide seated safely inside.
To these brief observations may be added these conclusions:
When any naval officer has arrived at the senior grades, he has a broad experience gained through a life of excitement and sacrifices. This life of experience and sacrifice cannot be considered complete if he has not been assigned at some time as aide to a very important commandant where he has performed the multiple tasks, consisting often of being a distinguished telephone operator, a slave of the buzzer, a patient subordinate during long, waiting hours, with nothing definite to do, an obliging liar at times, always with a smile and ready to perform every order, be it to transmit an important operational command or to dance the rhumba with the admiral’s wife.
Furthermore, those aides are the only ones who, when they become commandants and have an aide of their own, have the opportunity to transmit to future generations, all the traditions of those unsung heroes with aiguillettes on their shoulders, who constitute one of the pillars of the naval organization.