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Come on, Little Beaver % Captain Peter J. Doerr, U. S. Navy (Retired), and Lieutenant David A. Rosenberg, U. S. Naval Reserve
In the September 1984 Proceedings, Captain Robert Powers’s article, “Come “ack Little Beaver,” served as a useful contribution to a complex and controver- s,al subject: fleet organization. It was a strong argument for the Navy to increase ne stability and continuity of unit organizations—usually referred to as unit “integrity.” The focus of Captain Powers’s argurnent, however, was misplaced. In ne final decade of this century, unit integrity will be necessary even more for attle groups than for destroyer squad- r°ns. Post-World War II Navy experience and selected aspects of that war in the acific (the latter cited by Captain Powers) support this more comprehensive goal.
Since World War II, unit integrity has Waxed and waned. One high point was achieved in the 1960s by Task Groups “Ipha and Bravo in the Atlantic Fleet and p antisubmarine warfare groups in the acific Fleet. In the latter, in particular, reasonably stable destroyer and escort StlL|adrons remained with the same carriers and wings for as long as 18 months at a ''me, including workup and deployment. This contrasted with the assignment of destroyers to carrier strike groups °r much shorter periods. Within the destroyer force itself, there was some ScNadron integrity in the 1960s, but Scluadron shifts were not uncommon and Un't integrity was often effective only for Ifansits.
. The ASW group example of unit integrity was outstandingly successful in what, as Captain Powers recognized, counts m°st: combat readiness for tough prob- t-riis such as coordinated ASW. It was mis unit integrity that, at least in part, made ASW Group Three—the last of the stable groups—so effective during the riptide exercises of the early 1970s in eveloping innovative and effective tac- hns for countering the Soviet Echo- and riharlie-class nuclear-powered guided- missile submarines.
At the end of the 1960s, aging hulls and declining shipbuilding budgets ended ne ASW carrier program and, with it, the ASW group. The non-ASW war in Viet- narn made extraordinary demands on de-
Arleigh Burke’s legacy to destroyer commanders (here, Admiral Burke with the commanding officer of the USS Caron [DD-970] in 1977) included the ingredients of battle group success: dynamic leadership, ship and unit integrity, and teamwork.
stroyers for attack carrier plane-guard and gun-line duties. An excess of demands over assets led fleet schedulers to ignore and soon forget the many benefits of unit integrity.
This “too hard” argument against unit integrity, which Captain Powers also cited, is not always valid, however. The next high point of unit integrity also came at a time of stringent scheduling demands: The Iranian hostage crisis of 1979-81. The difference at that time was two-fold. First, the Seventh Fleet commander fostered unit integrity by developing the “macro” scheduling process, which Captain Powers recommended. Second, the distance of the North Arabian Sea from the rest of the Seventh Fleet’s operating areas made frequent changes to battle group composition very expensive in terms of time lost in transit. As a result, the battle force—Seventh Fleet groups in the North Arabian Sea— had unit integrity forced on them. Confirming the fleet commander’s new policy and despite the almost total lack of training facilities there, the battle force commander was able to report to the Commander, Seventh Fleet, that continuity of operational assignment was producing readiness (as measured by typical fleet exercises) far superior to that obtained under circumstances prevailing in the rest of the Seventh and Third fleets. This demonstrated readiness led the Commander, Seventh Fleet, to extend group integrity as a scheduling guideline to other task forces. It also led Commander, Third Fleet, and the Pacific Fleet type commanders to strive for greater group integrity during workup and transit to deployment.
Unit integrity at all levels works whenever the Navy can assemble the resources and the will to do it. However—to generalize from these postwar examples—the Navy has rightly emphasized battle group and ASW group integrity, of which destroyer squadron integrity is only a part.
TTie Falklands Conflict offered more evidence of the need to foster higher echelon integrity. One of the few universally accepted lessons of that war is that a navy, even against a relatively small military power, needs airborne early warning to fight a modern war, and there is no sign of a destroyer-based replacement for the E-2 Hawkeye. Moreover, although the Aegis antiair warfare system, the Tomahawk cruise missile, the Standard (SM-2 ER) RIM-67B missile, and their successors may someday make surface action groups formidable, independent, offensive formations against a strong enemy, that day has not yet arrived. To fight any enemy with a reasonably modern strike force, the Navy must have the coordinated surface and air capabilities of the battle group, if not a multicarrier battle force, and those capabilities can only be optimized by continued stress on battle group and force integrity. Distributed power within, rather than outside, the battle force is what the Navy must seek in the near- to mid-term. The carrier and its air wing will remain the centerpiece of tactically effective task groups for some time to come. Destroyer squadron integrity fosters good leadership, has administrative conveniences, and is a mandatory building block of battle group integrity. Combat readiness, however, depends on the effectiveness of the carrier air wing- destroyer team.
A good example of unit integrity today is the destroyer squadron based in Yokosuka, Japan. This squadron approaches 100% unit integrity both as a squadron and as a permanent part of the USS Midway (CV-41) battle group. The squadron commander has responsibility for all aspects of his ships’ performance all the time. He is also the permanent ASW commander for the Midway Battle Group. Destroyer squadron and carrier group staffs, carrier and destroyer ships’ companies, and Air Wing Five officers work together year-round in a variety of exercises and contingency operations. Through such cooperation, they develop a high degree of rapport and empathy, which makes service in the group professionally satisfying. More important, the team approach drastically reduces the amplitude of the swings in readiness.
World War II experience also supports the importance of group integrity. However, when looking back at lessons learned to help solve the problems of the present, it is important to note that the solutions of the past were not necessarily as neat at the time as they may appear today. Taking Captain Powers’s example, then-Captain Arleigh Burke’s Little Beavers operated in combat against Japanese Navy surface ships in the Solomon Islands for just over six months at the very end of the South Pacific campaign of 1942-44. When Burke took command of the unit on 22 October 1943, Destroyer Squadron (DesRon) 23 was composed of new destroyers commanded by experienced regular line officers, and manned by well trained but not combat-tested crews. He had little more than a week to organize his eight Fletcher (DD-445)- class destroyers, which had never operated as a unit before, into a cohesive fighting force before the invasion of Bougainville, the largest of the Solomon Islands, on 1 November.
While DesRon 23 distinguished itself in action supporting Rear Admiral A. S- “Tip” Merrill’s cruisers in repulsing a Japanese surface force in the Battle of Empress Augusta Bay on the night of 1-2 November, Burke’s Little Beavers did not hit their combat stride until three
Weeks later, when five DesRon 23 ships wet five Japanese destroyers in combat Cape St. George on the night of 245 November. In that battle, Burke’s destroyers sank three enemy ships without taking a single hit. In the last five months of Burke’s tour as Commander, DesRon •-3, the unit fought in another 20 comat engagements, mostly antishipping sweeps and shore bombardments, as °ugainville was secured and the great apanese base at Rabaul, New Guinea, 'solated and strangled.
% this time, U. S. technical and numerical superiority had been achieved in e South Pacific. It was a far cry from p at then-Commander Arleigh Burke, °mmander of Destroyer Divisions 43 and 44 an(j DesRon 12 first confronted P en he arrived in the South Pacific in ebruary 1943. While Burke began de- eloping the innovative combat tactics 0r independent destroyer night actions uring tj^e Spr;ng ancj summer 0f 1943—
aking advantage, in particular, of U. S. radar superiority—he was unable to imP ement these tactics in his first three °uth Pacific commands, because a criti- ,a shortage of destroyers in the war zone ePt his ships scattered on escort and . acr duties. Destroyer squadron cohe- S'Veness and integrity only became possi- e with DesRon 23, when sufficient ^Umbers °f destroyers were available in ,e Pacific for most other pressing as- Slgnments.
h should also be remembered that, hen DesRon 23 began operating as a c°mbat unit in October 1943, it was as- 'gned to operate not as an independent °rce but as a source of escorts for the our cruisers of Admiral Merrill’s Task orce 39. Indeed, the nickname “Little eaver’’ is directly related to this assign- The pot-bellied little Indian boy, ho came to symbolize the Navy’s most ,drn°us destroyer squadron, was the side- lck to the popular comic strip character ed Ryder. The nickname was applied to I esPon 23 by Burke because the little ndian was a uniquely American fighting yrnbol. It was doubly fitting because his ®*>troyers were the Little Beavers for "^rriirs cruisers.
The subsequent World War II history of Captain Burke and DesRon 23 should also be kept in mind. In March 1944, Burke was ordered to become chief of staff to Vice Admiral Marc A. Mitscher, Commander, Fast Carrier Task Force 58. Slated to be named commodore of one of the first squadrons of Allen M. Sumner (DD-692)-class destroyers then arriving in the Pacific, Burke chafed at this assignment at first, especially because of Admiral Mitscher’s initial coolness toward him, and because he preferred combat command to staff work. Nevertheless, he remained with Mitscher through the summer of 1945, and thus played an important role in the campaigns that secured the place of the fast carrier task force as the Navy’s chief offensive tool. DesRon 23 itself joined the Task Force 58 screen in March 1944, and operated with the fast carriers for the rest of the year through the Marianas, Leyte Gulf, and Luzon operations before being assigned to other duties.
The heyday of independent destroyer surface action groups in the Pacific War was, thus, relatively short—some six months in 1943-44. Before that time, there were generally too few ships to keep together as cohesive, combat-ready units. After the spring of 1944, the fast carrier task forces came to dominate offensive naval warfare.
The World War II Little Beavers are an example of the combat readiness achievable with good unit integrity under dynamic leadership. Captain Powers was, indeed, right. However, they also testify to the fact that then, as now, destroyer squadron integrity is important not just to maintain or improve surface warfare effectiveness but also to contribute to battle group integrity and effectiveness. Furthermore, until the Navy gets a destroyer- based airborne early warning capability (perhaps from an advanced vertical short takeoff and landing aircraft), and more effective surface-based antiair and strike warfare weapons (with better munitions than the current conventional Tomahawk land-attack cruise missile), the battle force and battle group—not the surface action group—will remain the Navy’s primary general-purpose task organization.
The challenges before the Navy now and in the future require greater integration of the warfare communities, not reliance on (or a return to) established or traditional ways of doing things. Indeed, in many of the situations the Navy will face tomorrow, the key ingredient of success may well be the integrity and flexibility within a single ship in performing several tasks simultaneously and well. Beyond this, the Navy may very well need new combinations of ships, aircraft, and special units. A modification of Captain Powers’s thesis is called for: by all means revitalize destroyer squadron integrity and macro-schedule for the battle groups with heavy input from destroyer squadron commanders. But broaden the horizon a bit.
Come on, Little Beaver; you’re Red Ryder’s partner, once again.
Captain Doerr is currently a defense analyst with KAPOS Associates, Inc. While on active duty, he served as Chief of Staff, Commander, Carrier Groups Four and Eight. Before that assignment, he was a senior fellow at the Strategic Concepts Development Center at the National Defense University. Previous billets included Assistant Chief of Staff for Plans and Policy, Commander in Chief, U. S. Pacific Fleet; Commander of Destroyer Squadron 15; and Assistant Chief of Staff for Plans and Policy, Commander, Seventh Fleet. Captain Doerr has a master’s degree in law and diplomacy with specialization in East Asian affairs from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy.
Lieutenant Rosenberg is a member of Chief of Naval Operations Intelligence Estimates 0166 reserve unit in Washington, D. C., and is a professor of strategy at the Naval War College in civilian life. He has been a member of the Strategic Concepts Development Center at National Defense University, taught history at the University of Houston and at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and has been a consultant to various Navy offices. The author of numerous articles and studies on the postwar U. S. Navy and nuclear strategy, Lieutenant Rosenberg is now completing an authorized biography of Admiral Arleigh Burke for the Naval Institute Press. Lieutenant Rosenberg has a bachelor’s degree in history from American University and a master’s and doctorate (with distinction) in history from the University of Chicago. He recently received the Exceptionally Gifted Fellow award from the Macarthur Foundation.
approving Chemical Defense Readiness
Commander James W. Williams, U. S. Naval Reserve
The Navy is boosting its efforts tough advances in equipment, training, and doctrine to defend against an increasing chemical warfare (CW) threat. But in e routine struggle to do too much with
too little on board ship at sea, a breakdown in CW training persists. Among fleet officers, obsolete or incomplete information combined with some pessimism translates into a poor state of chemical defense readiness. Without a change in attitude in the wardroom, flawed readiness could easily hinder a ship in completing vital missions or lead to unnecessary loss of life in trying to complete
those missions—especially in the Mediterranean and Southwest Asia areas of operation, where the greatest threats exist.
The Threat: In 1969, the United States stopped producing and stockpiling chemical munitions. In 1975, the government formally subscribed to the 1925 Geneva Protocol, banning the first use of toxic chemicals. In 1980, it announced that its primary goal was worldwide, verifiable chemical disarmament. And in 1985, President Ronald Reagan’s Review Commission on Chemical Warfare concluded that the usefulness of existing stockpiles was rapidly declining and that protective capability alone was inadequate as a deterrent. Delays in producing binary chemical munitions, where two nonlethal components mix in flight to produce a toxic agent, meant the United States had virtually disarmed unilaterally.1
Meanwhile, CW capabilities in the Third World have spread, creating threats in new areas. It is now estimated that at least 13 nations outside NATO and the Warsaw Pact have CW weaponry, including Iran, Syria, Israel, Ethiopia, and Libya. Despite pushing for nuclear and chemical disarmament among superpowers, the Soviets have publicly obstructed embargos on arms sales to the Third World and may have also supplied CW capabilities to several Third World countries, including Egypt and Cuba. The Iraqis have developed an independent production capability.
The nature of the threat from these countries is also significant. Besides blister agents, there are also limited quantities of nerve agents. The significance of this proliferation and use is that barriers to CW—both psychological and technical—have fallen. The apparent aberration of the Egyptian-Yemeni warfare of the 1960s threatened to become a familiar type of warfare for the region by the early 1980s. Iraq began using toxic chemicals in the late 1970s against Iran and has continued to use various agents intermittently. Recent evidence published in 1988 indicates that Iraq used CW agents against its own civilians in rebellious Kurdish areas.2
U. S. Naval Implications: These regional developments could impinge directly on U. S. naval forces in traditional power-projection roles. Unlike large- scale, open warfare in which military casualties are generally accepted as a cost of achieving national goals, the public during peacetime tends to measure military success in terms of a force’s ability to maintain a presence without incurring any loss of personnel. As the attacks on the U. S. Marine headquarters in Beirut and on the USS Stark (FFG-31) showed, mere presence in a hostile region risks death and destruction. Casualty levels that would be insignificant in wartime could force an administration to restrict peacetime measures to the point of negating the use of military force as an instrument of national policy.
Such restriction could easily be a conscious goal of a Third-World country. Even a single chemical attack— insufficient to produce more than a handful of fatalities on a single ship—that leads to a U. S. withdrawal could be a major victory for the user in a delicately balanced regional struggle.
The mere threat of CW can similarly contribute to success. Inexpertly applied, protective measures against CW can encumber military operations to the point where they fail to maintain a credible presence. A nation simply declaring that it had a CW capability and threatening to use CW close to the U. S. ships could force crews into protective garments, which at present levels of training and supply likely would impair shipboard operations. The result would be a propaganda victory, at least. Since U. S. policy foreswears the use of CW except in retaliation and then allows retaliation only to bring a rapid cessation of CW, a Third- World country could employ limited CW or threaten its use without much fear of retaliation.
The threat to U. S. naval shore facilities is real, too. For example, even discounting a terrorist attack, port facilities that might play key roles in providing logistical support to U. S. forces in the Mediterranean or Southwest Asia are within the range of aircraft or missiles carrying toxic payloads. Third-World countries that might want to prevent the employment of U. S. forces would consider the use of CW very attractive.3
For years, Navy concerns about the CW threat dealt with the Warsaw Pact, representing a high-risk but low-probability threat—not with what has become the immediate and most probable threat— Third World users. Because many believed that, first, the Navy was extremely unlikely to encounter the threat and, second, that existing countermeasures would be ineffective even if attacked, a sense of fatalism developed, which accelerated the decline of material and training readiness. Today, crew members generally think that they can not perform normal tasks while wearing chemical protective gear based on insufficient instruction, their resistance to practice in the equip
ment, and a failure to follow recommended CW defense procedures. Since many have no confidence that they coulu even survive a CW attack, they see no reason to think about how they might perform mission-essential tasks under actua CW conditions. Real material deficiencies, magnified by the lack of confidence, have led many crews to adopt the view that the Navy lacks any effective countermeasures to a CW attack. Therefore, they say, it is worthless to attain an) degree of material or training readiness.
Ships generally have failed to ensure that the material they have on hand is serviceable, have stored good material m environments that ruin it, and have failecl to allocate scarce training time to accomplish meaningful CW defense training_ Maintaining a nearly complete state ot unreadiness is made easier by shifting the burden of responsibility from the executive officer, who Naval Warfare Publics- tion 62-1(B) tasks with chemical, biolog' ical, radiological (CBR) defense training' to the damage control assistant (DCA)- The DCA is usually the most junior off*' cer in the engineering department, unprepared, based on both experience anJ rank, to fight for a usable piece of the training pie. Widespread pessimist11 about the effectiveness of CBR defense material and training helps ease the conscience of officers who do not study existing doctrine or try to figure out how to employ it. It’s much easier and more comfortable to label CW defense as "to° hard” than to confront its various dimensions and take responsibility for iinprov-
Doctrine, Equipment, and Training I For the Fleet: The pessimism in the flee* about a CW defensive capability, to 3 great extent, reflects an incomplete plC' ture of current developments. Navy lead' ership, in fact, has taken positive steps to | improve defensive capabilities, increas- L ing command emphasis on doctrine- equipment, and training.
In the area of doctrine, for example I the Navy has developed a concept of op' HE erations to drive research, development- 11 and acquisition. The Navy is also moving I to reduce confusion by splitting chemical I U and biological issues from radiological LH defenses. One spin-off will be requirements to have separate bills for chemical H^| and biological defenses and radiological I defense. The use of the term CBR has I bred confusion among crews about the nature of the threats and appropriate Bfl countermeasures. During training exer- I cises, crews have expended unnecessarily I the new chemical protective overgar- ^ ments (CPOs), which have a limited shelf
1 e once their packaging is opened, to Practice for radiological defense. Normal w°rk clothing provides as much radiologic Protection as anything else. Crews ave also pulled out chemical detection ■ts for radiological drills and dosimeters or chemical incidents.
The Navy, in addition, has started Emphasizing the distinction between S eaming condition,., which pertain to general threats, and protective measures y creating distinctive terms. Mission oriented protective posture (MOPP) now applies to shipboard actions. Individual nemical protection levels (ICPLs) apP les only to levels of individual protec- 10"and solely with a chemical threat.
With regard to equipment, the Navy ns purchased several new developments.
c most important function in CW de- ^nse is detection. The new chemical nrfare directional detector is a forwardlooking infrared device that detects an ofh nt C.*ouc* an<^ permits one ship to warn ers in a group of impending attack so ey can avoid the cloud or, at least, “a°Pt an adequate MOPP. The chemical I ®ent monitor is a British device that al, Ws Quick, local monitoring of nerve and nlster contamination. This device mini- 1Zes training requirements for survey rsonnel, delays in damage assessment, unnecessary decontamination efforts assure recovery from an attack.
New materials offer great improve- I ents in protection. Advanced, though utcd collective protection systems are °mg into new-construction ships. The °r,tish Mk-Ill Quit thf» PPn a
high degree of individual protection from known agents. The MCU-2/P mask provides a similarly higher degree of protection than the old Mk-V mask and allows for a better field of vision and voice transmission and easier breathing. The improvements in vision and breathing will also reduce the psychological effects of encapsulation in protective equipment, which British studies have estimated contribute to 12% of the casualties on the chemical battlefield. Finally, the Navy has purchased quantities of pyridostigmine, a drug that provides a measure of immunity to the effects of the nerve agents.4
The several improvements in naval training encompass new schools, manuals and videotapes, and materials. The Navy now has five schools. A two-day course provides an introduction to basic survival skills applicable to either afloat or ashore assignments. The basic afloat CBR defense course lasts five days. Both of these courses are available at the fleet training centets. In addition, the Navy initiated a four-week shipboard CBR- defense operations and training specialist course at the U. S. Army Chemical School at Ft. McClellan, Alabama, in 1987. In April 1988, the Navy conducted the pilot course of a similar, eight-week course for disaster preparedness officers and specialists aimed at shore activities. Both of the courses taught at Ft. McClellan enable students to train in the chemical decontamination training facility (CDTF), which includes practical exer-
r*ic*»e ncinrr actual tnYiA QOPntc I?or>ont 1»r to enhance the ability of people who already have the basic training but lack the confidence- and credibility-building experience of actually working in a toxic environment, the Chemical School listed the two-day CDTF portion as a separate course. The Navy also sponsors a two- week disaster preparedness training course for ashore activities.
For regional instruction, the Navy provides several types of training software. The Navy CBR Defense Training Handbook, first published in 1985 and extensively revised in 1988, compiles essential information found in several doctrinal and technical publications into a readily available and usable format. In addition, threat briefs are available on slide and videotape as is a standard CBR defense personnel qualification standard package.
One of the glaring deficiencies in CW defense training has been the absence of some device that provides realistic training for survey personnel. Through normal supply channels, commands can now buy a realistic simulator for the M256 detector kit—the M256 TRAINS. Packets in each kit simulate one response of the M256 to exposure to various chemical agents. One packet also undergoes no change, indicating that no agent is present. Although each packet is expended when used, the color changes are permanent, allowing the expended packets to be used again for practice in color identification, either to orient new personnel or to provide refresher training. Similar reuse of expended CPOs from the training allowance and those whose shelf life has expired could multiply the amount of realistic, hands-on training available in the fleet without any increase in programmed costs.
A number of recent directives and other initiatives show modest increases in command emphasis. In order to emphasize training as a way to achieve readiness, for example, the Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, in July 1987 prescribed minimum training requirements for personnel and units. To help implement this directive, several members of Naval Reserve Radiological/Chemical Warfare Emergency Response Team, Atlantic, 108, met with representatives of Atlantic Fleet staffs in November 1987
Despite the imposing protective gear, the Navy is maintaining a nearcomplete state of chemical warfare unreadiness. With forethought, however, personnel can turn fatalism in the face of a CW threat into decontamination efforts that will allow their ships to remain in the Fight.
Defending Against “the Poor Man’s A-Bomb”
The U. S. Navy’s attitude toward chemical-biological warfare (CBW)—collectively known as toxic warfare— has been erratic over the past several decades, surging when there was strong evidence of a potential enemy’s capabilities, waning in the absence of immediate danger. In 1987, a U. S. Navy vice admiral holding a major policy-making position commented in response to a question on the vulnerability of U. S. warships to nuclear and chemical attacks at sea, “I just don’t want to think about those problems—we have enough on our plate already.” Such a response may be typical.
Understandably, obvious and immediate considerations, such as the complexity of conventional war, budget machinations, various regional crises, and weapon system problems have occupied the Navy’s attention. However, an increased albeit tardy concern about toxic war is now on the edge of the Navy’s plate. A quick rise in concern about toxic war followed by an almost equally quick decline is the usual U. S. pattern. There have been several examples.
The first period of serious U. S. Navy interest in CBW dates from late in World War I, after the effectiveness of chemical warfare had been extensively demonstrated by land armies. The leaders of U. S. and other major navies planned to develop the means for conducting chemical war at sea, but these plans were largely abandoned and forgotten in the post-war years.1
A second period of naval interest began in the mid- 1930s, after Italian forces used chemical weapons against Ethiopians and, it was asserted, the Japanese army used chemical and biological weapons against Chinese forces in their lengthy conflict. In the United States, however, widespread disapproval of such weapons delayed the strengthening of the almost non-existent U. S. CBW arsenal until World War II broke out.
During the war, Germany, the United States, Britain, and the Soviet Union created large stockpiles of chemical weapons and were capable of producing substantial quantities of biological weapons, as well. Although the use of such weapons was seriously considered on several occasions, they were not employed in combat. A major restraint against such use was fear that an enemy would retaliate with similar types of weapons.
In the early post-World War II period, U. S. concern about CBW again declined, but was reversed soon after the outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950. Communist propagandists, probably at least in part to explain away the consequences of bad sanitary practices by North Korean and Chinese forces and to justify Communist-bloc biological warfare research, alleged that
U. S. forces were employing bacteriological weapons on an enormous scale in the conflict. Concern about CBW during the Korean War period generated a number of studies and research efforts by U. S. forces. None of this work had any lasting effect on the Navy, and interest died away in the mid-1950s.
The next period of concern commenced abruptly in the early 1960s. The heightened concern appears to have followed the unexpected acquisition of then- secret, high-level Soviet writings on a variety of military subjects through the efforts of Igor Penkovskiy, a colonel in Soviet military intelligence (GRU), a defector in place within the Soviet Union.2 It may be significant that from the early to mid-1960s, Western sources estimated roughly one-third of the Soviet Union’s nonnuclear, filled munitions would carry chemical agents.
The U. S. Navy’s response to this perceived Soviet CBW threat included the conversion of the destroyer Herbert J. Thomas (DD-833) to test the feasibility of “hardening” ships against chemical and biological agents. Reportedly, the collective protection system (CPS) or “citadel” was found to be an effective . method of protection, but was considered too expensive to be incorporated into the fleet. After a few years, the ship was stripped of specialized chemical defense equipment and sold to Taiwan. In the absence of new, hard intelligence about the CBW threat, interest once again dwindled. Again, the U. S. Navy’s attention span seemed to be no more than about three years.
The level of concern was to drop further. In part to reassure Soviet leaders of U. S. goodwill. President Richard M. Nixon in November 1969 renounced any future U. S. use of biological weapons and suspended production of toxic chemical weapons. This suspension was originally intended to continue for only a limited time unless the Soviets also suspended production. Because of domestic political pressures, the restrictions on U. S. programs were prolonged. Another indicator of the level of concern was the U. S. Army’s abolishing of its Chemical Corps in 1974. At that time, the Army’s “chemical specialists” numbered about 1,600.
Large quantities of herbicides and small quantities ot tear gas were used by U. S. forces in Southeast Asia, but in January 1975, they also were labelled as toxic agents. In response to this, the Soviet Union signed a convention with the United States in April 1972 restriding the production, stockpiling, and use of biological weapons. At the time, the absence of meaningful verification and enforcement measures in the convention did not seem particularly significant. Accordingly-
and surveyed CBR defense training needs. These reservists developed and began implementing a plan to meet those needs for the Commander, Naval Surface Forces, Atlantic. The reserve billet training plans for several programs already include the CBR defense personnel qualification standard. In this respect, reserve training can directly influence the readiness of active forces through the reserves’ performance of annual training on board ships and at shore facilities. The exposure of an informed group to those new to CW defense training measures is essential to improve readiness Navywide. Except for Mideast deployers, reserve readiness in CW defense may surpass that of the active forces. In March 1988, the Commander, Naval Surface Reserve Force, held a conference to look at improving CBR defense training for all reservists.5 And, recently, the Navy compressed the
course, “An Introduction to Chemical- Biological, and Radiological Defense, into a one-day curriculum now being conducted at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
Improvements Using What’s at Hand- Even without receiving new equipment— most of which will remain in short supply for some time—fleet personnel need not and should not settle for the despair and fatalism that seems to prevail in the face
^eapons.5
This charge may have been partially con-
So
had
occurred at Sverdlovsk, but claimed that it was paused by a natural, non-pulmonary form of anthrax. °viet spokesmen vehemently rejected proposals for reign, independent investigation of the various claims
1 least 13 nations outside NATO have CW weap- ®nry. Here, victims of an Iraqi chemical bombing ear the Kurdish town of Halabja last March recover in a makeshift hospital in Tehran.
both U. S. CBW capabilities and concern about Soviet capabilities declined in the face of other priorities.
In spring 1975, U. S. concern at the national level escalated once again; Dr. Elliott Hurwitz’s article, the Navy Prepares for a Chemical/Biological War,” ^le August 1982 Proceedings discussed some of the y. ground for this change.3 Also, the analysis of So- ,e|-made Egyptian CBW equipment deployed in the t rah-Israeli war of October 1973 contributed to a eightened level of concern. The Soviet protective ma- erial provided to an Arab client was reported to be uPcrior to that available to the U. S. armed forces.
'i sequent reports of vigorous Soviet efforts in sev- areas of toxic warfare capabilities tended to sustain ., _ 8h level of national concern. One report indicated at in 1975, Soviet military planning for an attack on c °Per,hagen, Denmark, included use of a 24-hour in- aPacitant gas.4 Another report from a Soviet emigre lcated that in September 1974, Yuri Ovchinnikov, a awly promoted vice-president of the Soviet Academy Sciences, had launched a major effort to exploit vances in genetic engineering as the basis for new
'rmed by a Soviet official when, in December 1987, alentin Falin, head of the Novosti Press Agency, ./nted that if the U. S. deployed space-based weapons, e Soviet Union might respond with new-type weap- ns> such as those based on genetic engineering.6 Other reports suggest that as of April 1979, a eaponized form of pulmonary anthrax was being pro- uced at Military Compound 19 in Sverdlovsk (in the s*atic part of the Soviet Union). After a long delay, viet and foreign apologists admitted that an incident
By Raymond A. Robinson and Norman Polmar
and counterclaims, while other Soviet spokesmen somewhat ambiguously denied that the Soviet Union was producing biological weapons. Soviet propagandists did not merely deny this charge, but took the offensive. In a long-running propaganda campaign, they charged that the United States was producing and using immense quantities of biological and chemical weapons in all major areas of the world. Allegedly, many tens of thousands of people had been killed, and millions injured by these U. S. weapons. Supposedly, the AIDS (acquired immune deficiency syndrome) virus was one of the many “weapons” created by the United States. The Biological Warfare Convention of 1972 seems to have been of no value in resolving the various charges about biological warfare.
On the basis of reports from Southeast Asian refugees, the U. S. government charged in September 1981 that Soviet-supplied toxic “yellow rain” had been employed by Communist Vietnamese forces since 1975. Vietnamese officials and their foreign friends denied these charges, but prohibited any independent, on-site investigations. (The Vietnamese were also reported to have used lethal chemical warfare agents against Chinese forces in 1979. One account related that trip-wires detonated booby traps, which exposed Chinese troops to the agents. The troops then became ill and died within a day or two.7)
By the early 1980s, the U. S. military had shifted back into a “concern mode” regarding CBW. The Navy belatedly initiated a procurement program to provide protective suits for crewmen on board carriers, surface combatants, and amphibious ships, and pursued another program to provide CPSs or citadels in certain warship classes. The Arleigh Burke (DDG-51)-class guided-missile destroyers would be the first U. S. naval ships with a built-in CPS, while amphibious ships would have this feature retrofitted. Present schedules call for the first two ships in this program to be completed in 1988; as much as 22% of the fleet could be “hardened” by 1992, provided the program is funded by Congress and supported within the Navy.
Today, however, the U. S. Navy is not capable of sustained operations in a contaminated environment. In truth, U. S. naval ships cannot function even for brief periods. Reports of Iraq and subsequently Iran employing chemical weapons in the Persian Gulf conflict heightened concerns over this situation beginning in 1983.
The conflict in the Persian Gulf has raised the specter of U. S. naval forces becoming the victim of CBW attack. Such an attack could be accidental, as was the
a CW threat. With some forethought ar|d insightful response, the amount of Contamination that a ship would have 0 undertake to resume combat operations VVlt*1 minimal risk to the crew would Probably be small enough to handle with- °ut having to withdraw from the fight. At w°rst, the existing equipment—if prepay cared for and used—provides a meaSUre of protection that would drastically reduce the number and severity of casualties that might be expected in the absence of any effective countermeasures. The history of exposure to CW attacks has shown repeatedly that even poorly- equipped forces with some training and a positive attitude have been able to survive and fight. Real casualties and operational defeats have come only when those launching CW attacks have been able to combine the toxic agents with surprise and when those under attack exhibited a failure to use what rudimentary defenses were available.
Although far from perfect, existing doctrine offers realistic measures to overcome a CW attack. NWP 62-l(B), “Surface Ship Damage Control,” looks beyond a preoccupation with survival and limited recovery from casualties and emphasizes fighting the ship in a toxic environment, using a broad, tactical, and operational perspective rather than a nar-
Iraqi attack against the USS Stark (FFG-31) with air- launched Exocet missiles, or intentional, as was the Iranian mine laying, which damaged the USS Samuel B. Roberts (FFG-58). Beyond the conventional means of delivering chemical and biological agents by aircraft, missile, and artillery shell, Soviet writings have referred to the use of sea mines ladened with toxic agents possibly for countering amphibious operations.
Beyond defensive equipment, offensive chemical weapons also have been proposed for the U. S. fleet.
In April 1987, Admiral Lee Baggett, Jr., at the time Commander-in-Chief of the U. S. Atlantic Command, told the House Appropriations Committee that U. S. Navy possession of chemical weapons would help to deter Soviet use of toxic weapons against U. S. forces and would also provide an incentive for the Soviets to negotiate an end to chemical weapons. Admiral Baggett also indicated that
‘‘[the Navy’s] posture does nothing to discourage them [the Soviets] from using chemical weapons. If they did and we had to fight in protective clothing, with masks and all the other inconveniences, they could fight in a shirt-sleeve environment. The balance would clearly be in their favor.”
None of the existing U. S. unitary-type chemical weapons are carried on board naval ships, and. in fact, all such U. S. weapons are scheduled to be destroyed by 1994. These outdated weapons—few of which are suitable for naval use—are difficult to handle and store, especially on board ship, and there is a large percentage of “leakers.”
The weapons now being developed are of the binary type (that is, relatively benign chemicals that are combined into toxic form within the weapon itself only when it is about to be fired or released). Binary weapons, therefore, can be more safely handled in ships and at forward air bases. The Navy’s chief binary weapon will be the Bigeye bomb, deliverable by Navy and Marine Corps fighter-attack aircraft. Full-scale production of the Bigeye is scheduled for 1990.
Still, as in the past, U. S. military concern about CBW promises to be short-lived, largely because of tightening military budgets. Over the past several years, there have been strong incentives to concentrate funding on familiar and relatively popular programs at the expense of new, “nasty” programs, such as CBW and tactical nuclear warfare at sea. A less tangible but probably important consideration in funding is the climate of opinion engendered by the long-running, ongoing U. S.-Soviet negotiations looking toward a treaty limiting chemical weapons. If prospects for success are so high as to justify continuation of these negotiations, then the Navy may not be inclined to spend scarce resources on countering Soviet CBW capabilities. Given these and other considerations, it is not surprising that policymakers prefer not to think about the vulnerability of U. S. warships to chemical (and nuclear) attacks at sea. Neither is it surprising that the Navy’s CBW efforts are being slowed in favor of other, higher-priority programs. The question is whether such a lowered pn- ority is justified.
As noted by Dr. Hurwitz, by the late 1970s, U. S. Navy leaders considered the Soviet threat substantial enough to require expensive countermeasures. The CBW threat is likely to have increased since those years, for as the Secretary of Defense and others have noted, between the late 1970s and mid-1980s, the Soviet “chemical” warfare capabilities were increased with additional troops, improved organization, and additional, upgraded equipment. The Soviet Ground Forces (army) alone is said to have between 45,000 and 60,000 “chemical” troops.8 The Defense Secretary’s remarks were oriented toward the ground forces, but in the absence of contrary information, it would be prudent to assume the Navy and other military services shared in this growth. The number of Soviet “chemical” warfare specialists now in uniform appears to be several times the total proposed for all U. S. forces.
The Soviet media has never admitted that the Soviet Navy has an offensive CBW capability, but it has boasted of the navy’s means of defense against toxic weapons and other means of mass destruction. In a January 1982 article in the journal Voyennaya Znaniytt aimed at future conscriptees, a Soviet writer notes that a ship’s hull can be rapidly sealed against contaminated air, protecting not only the crew, but also food and water. In addition, each crew member is supplied with personal protective gear for use against “mass-destruction weapons,” the Soviet term for nuclear and CBW weapons. Other Soviet articles note the great value of ships’ wash-down systems in combating toxic agents. According to Western sources, even some Soviet merchant ships have been built since about 1967 with washdown and CBW-resistant citadels for emergency use in wartime.
Beyond the Soviet CBW threat, there are some 17 other nations that now have the capability to produce chemical weapons, according to Admiral Baggett’s April 1987 testimony before Congress. In June 1987, Soviet arms negotiator Yuri Nazarkin noted that whereas only the United States and the Soviet Union admitted possession of chemical weapons, 9 to 15 or
row, technical one. The disparity between the two approaches represents the difference in viewpoint between the commanding officer or, at least, the operations department and the engineering department. Even in its technical aspects, NWP 62-1(B) represents a broad understanding, as opposed to a simplistic application of a few procedures. For example, the publication addresses well the realities of ship ventilation and the implications for operating in a CW environment, analyzing the dynamics of airflow, including irregularities and rates of exchange. Those dynamics will influence the onset of and then the recovery from a CW attack. In addition, the Naval Ships Technical Manual, chapter 470, contains realistic guidance on the limitations of personnel engaged in different kinds of work in different climatic conditions at various levels of MOPP/ICPL.
Combined with tactical doctrine that provides guidance on maneuvering the ship to minimize the effects of contamination, existing doctrine provides the basis for maintaining operations under conditions where an imminent CW threat exists and through a scale of attack as great as a U. S. warship is likely to encounter in a Third World area. The countermeasures washdown system—especially if activated before a ship encoun-
a> Cuba, and Nicaragua.9 Indeed, Dr. Robert M. es> the Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, re-
Possibly as many as 20 nations have such weapons. In Member 1987, Secretary of State George Shultz "'rote ‘Now we face a worldwide diffusion and use of c emical weapons—thus breaching the international tnoral consensus of more than half a century.”
Today, an armed conflict is more likely to occur be- ween the United States and a smaller, poorer state j. an w''h the Soviet Union. From this it could be in- erred that U. S. naval forces may encounter toxic at- ack from Third World nations in the same manner that fan has used guided missiles and mines against U. S. arships. U. S. preparations, therefore, should not be riven solely by reference to Soviet capabilities and ^tendons, but also by the efforts of smaller, potency hostile states to acquire toxic weapons against ‘ch U. S. ships have little defense. ox*c weapons have sometimes been described as the Poor man’s atom bomb.” The rulers of several poten- |*y hostile, “poor” countries have reportedly ac- lred. °r will soon acquire, such weapons. According Press reports, Libya, Iraq, Iran, and Angola have ready used toxic chemicals in combat, even against ‘Vrlllans, and probably will do so again. An Iranian 'cial has warned that if Iraqi use of chemical weap- s Was not halted soon, then use of such weapons 'ght become “commonplace.” j l ven North Korea’s record over the past 40 years, also would be wishful thinking to expect sustained Prudence from that country’s rulers in the use of toxic eaP°ns that are generally believed to be in their arse- Qa . Other potentially hostile states holding inventories soviet-made chemical defense equipment and probay capable of quickly adding toxic weapons include
Ctlha nnH Mirarcmno ^ InHppH Tlr RnK^rt \/f
Gati ^nUy declared: “The most immediate threat to world ^ace and to the security of the United States and its ,es may well come from the proliferation of chemical anibiological warfare capabilities in the Third World.”10 the U. S. Navy has an extremely modest chemical/ iologiCai warfare defense program under way. Pres- „Ure to reduce the defense budget and to reallocate nds to maintain operating tempo and force levels, bring intense pressure to cut peripheral programs, ^ch as ones that Navy leaders “just don’t want to lhlnk about.”
Surprise, astutely employed, is a powerful tactic, he Soviet’s armed forces, in particular, are keenly avvare of its importance as are many of the non-aligned hations that have hostile intent toward the United fates. The U. S. military establishment has been the v,ctim of surprise on many occasions, most recently by
the truck bombing of the Marine headquarters in Lebanon in 1983 and by the Iranian use of mines in the Persian Gulf. Future “surprises” could easily include an enemy’s use of toxic agents.
The U. S. Navy must begin thinking seriously about this threat. A program, even as low-level as that now in place in the Navy, must be pursued and protected from budgetary cuts, with increased emphasis on planning, exercises, and the development of warning and protective gear to permit Navy ships to survive such a surprise attack and continue to perform their missions.
'Frederick J. Brown, Chemical Warfare: A Study in Restraints (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1968).
2According to the Penkovskiy reports—paraphrased by the CIA and published in 1965—“And let there be no doubt: if hostilities should erupt, the Soviet Army would use chemical weapons against its opponents. The political decision has been made, and our strategic military planners have developed a doctrine which permits the commander in the field to decide whether to use chemical weapons, and when and where.” Oleg Penkovskiy, The Penkovskiy Papers (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Co., 1965), pp. 249-250.
3Dr. Elliott Hurwitz, “The Navy Prepares for Chemical/Biological War,” U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, August 1982, pp. 113-116. 4Joseph D. Douglas, Jr., “The Expanding Threat of Chemical-Biological Warfare: A Case of U. S. Tunnel-vision,” Strategic Review, Fall 1986, p. 42.
sMark Popovskiy, Manipulated Science (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Co., 1979), pp. 229-230.
6Editorial, “SDI vs The Plague,” The Washington Times, 8 January 1986, p. A6; “Grave New World,” Aviation Week and Space Technology, 25 January 1988, p. 15.
7William Beecher, “Toxic weapon used on Chinese?” Boston Globe, 30 July 1982, p. 15.
department of Defense, Soviet Military Power: An Assessment of the Threat 1988 (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, April 1988), p. 78. This edition also notes that the Soviets have acknowledged now having up to 50,000 tons of poisonous substances—the world’s largest CBW stockpile.
9Soviet assistance to certain Third World clients in the CBW field has been ongoing for more than 20 years. In early 1988, for example, the commander of the Soviet Ground Forces’ chemical warfare service, Colonel General Vladimir Pikalov, led a military delegation to Syria to discuss further Soviet military assistance to that Arab state. Syria is reported to be producing chemical weapons, with Soviet assistance, in plants near Damascus and Homs.
l0Dr. Robert M. Gates, speech before the annual convention of Association of Former Intelligence Officers, 15 October 1988, McLean, Va.
Mr. Robinson served in the U. S. Navy from 1945 to 1948. He later served as an intelligence analyst with the Central Intelligence Agency and then with the Defense Intelligence Agency. Retired in 1984, he lives in Arlington, Virginia, and is a frequent contributor to the Proceedings.
Mr. Polmar, author of Guide to the Soviet Navy (Naval Institute Press, 1986) and The Ships and Aircraft of the U. S. Fleet (Naval Institute Press, 1987), writes the Soviet Navy and U. S. Navy columns of the Proceedings. He is director of the USNl Military Database.
ers an agent cloud—for example, drasti- ^a11 y reduces the amount of contamina- 10n that reaches the interior of the ship or jiettles on and adheres to exterior sur- aces- Some recent repetitive trials of j-fevvrnen performing combat-critical asks at sea showed that sailor ingenuity ln response to the encumbrance of ICPL actually improved performance of some asks by eliminating unnecessary steps in 'he existing routine.
The current instability of various regions throughout the world combined with U. S. policies and requirements for the Navy to project power into areas where CW is a reality, creates the real possibility that U. S. Navy ships and personnel manning installations on foreign soil may one day experience a CW attack. In fact, all that an enemy must do to endanger operations of strategic significance is to present a credible threat, forcing ships’ crews to adopt defensive measures as a safety precaution. Under these circumstances, all Naval officers bear a responsibility to ensure that they and their personnel are well-equipped, educated, and trained to survive a chemical attack and continue the fight.
'Edward M. Spiers, Chemical Warfare (Urbana, II: University of Illinois Press, 1986), provides excellent
historical coverage; on U. S. policies and practices, see Hugh Stringer, Deterring Chemical Warfare: U.S. Policy Options for the 1950s (Washington, DC: Pergamon-Brassey’s, International Defense Publishers, 1986). The U. S. Chemical Warfare Review Commission, Report of the Chemical Warfare Review Commission (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1985), is an excellent source for both historical and relatively current information.
2Alexander Ivan Galtsin, “A Soviet solution to the Gulf problem,” Jane's Defense Weekly (JDW), 28 November 1987, p. 1258; ‘‘Chemical Warfare—A Growing Threat,” Defence Attache, No. 3, 1987, pp. 23-24; ‘‘Iraq Now Middle East’s Biggest Chemical Weapon Producer,” JDW, 27 February 1988, p.
336; Thalif Deen, ‘‘Iran—Meeting its Arms Requirements,” JDW, 28 November 1987, pp. 1276-1277; Yossef Bodansky, ‘‘Learning Afghanistan’s Lessons,” JDW, 20 February 1988, p. 311: Kenneth Adelman, ‘‘Chemical Weapons: Restoring the Taboo,” Orbis, Fall 1986, pp. 443-455.
3Gen. Frederick J. Kroesen, USA (Ret.), et. al., ‘‘Summary Report: Chemical Warfare in the Third World,” Institute for Defense Analysis Paper p2017, April 1987.
4Geoffrey Manners, ‘‘Psychiatric Help for UK Soldiers in Future War,” JDW, 18 January 1988, p. 48. 5Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, Instruction 3500.20, 22 July 1987, subject: Chemical, biological, and radiological defense readiness and training.
In 1987, Commander Williams became the assistant director for Educational Services, U. S. Army Mi *' tary History Institute, Carlisle Barracks in Pennsylva nia, where he also instructs in the Army War College- He is currently with Military Sealift Command, Mi * east, 105. In 1984, he became the Historian, U. • Army Chemical School and joined Naval Reserve Radiological/Chemical Warfare Emergency Re sponse Team, Atlantic, 108. Commander Willial^s began his Navy career in 1969 as an explosive or nance disposal officer and attended the U. S. Army Chemical School. He has a Ph D in history an served as an instructor at the U. S. Naval Academy-
Electronic Warfare is In Vogue in Moscow
By Neville H. Cross
Our Navy is a focal point for the most recent achievements of science and technology. Nuclear missiles, powerful propulsion plants, and radar and electronic equipment have given it new qualities and advanced the Navy into the rank of forces of strategic significance—N. I. Smirnov, former First Deputy Commander-inChief Soviet Navy
The importance now attached to electronic warfare is beginning to penetrate the very foundations of combat theory in the Soviet Navy. This new emphasis was evident in 1979, when Sergei G. Gorshkov stated, “Superiority in the field of development of military radio electronics is becoming one of the essential conditions for military superiority over an enemy.”1 And one of the lessons the Soviets learned in the Falklands Conflict was, as Rear Admiral-Engineer G. Popov wrote in Morskoy Sbornik in November 1982, that the country whose armed forces prevail in the electronic spectrum will have a significant advantage in the next war.2
The Soviets realize that to fail in this spectrum means to lose both surprise and initiative. To the West, a loss in electronic combat simply means using less sophisticated weapons and reverting to a different set of procedures. But such a loss in the Soviet Navy may prevent missiles from reaching their targets.
Today, the Soviets are trying to develop means of overcoming Western electronic combat countermeasures. It has been proved, for example, that “in the field of electronic warfare, passive air defense systems work.”3 The Soviets are studying ways to bypass such systems.
Both the Baku (foreground) and the SSV-33 are loaded down with sophisticated electronics. An omen of things to come?
Another area of focus is on antiship missiles, which, because they are susceptible to jamming, can be decoyed off the target. To overcome this, one Soviet officer proposes that the “operating time for home-on-jam systems be cut to the minimum to avert [the Soviet system from] locking onto the wrong (decoy) target.”4
The best indication of how the Soviet Navy is devoting more and more resources to try to equal the U. S. Navy’s electronic capability is the appearance of the fourth ATev-class carrier, the Baku, and a new class of ships designated the BAL-AUX-2 (for Baltic-built Auxiliary) the lead ship of which is designated SSV- 33.
The role and purpose of this, the world’s first nuclear-powered electronic warfare ship, illustrates a notable differ
ence between the approaches of the U. Sand Soviet navies. The Soviet Navy is developing a number of dedicated plat' forms at once rather than working °n each weapon system individually. The Soviets have deployed all of their most sophisticated electronic and communications equipment, as well as what would seem to be the first phased-array radar,in this 850-foot ship. (The second such radar is on the Baku.) While the SS^' 33’s purpose appears to be similar to that of a civilian space observation ship, the ship is heavily armed and has a naval pennant number. So this ship actually >s more likely to use sheer power and the capability of its transmitters to suppresS Western jamming. Its role would be lit-1 j to disrupt, deceive, and deny the enemy the use of electronic equipment, and thef
o destroy enemy platforms through the oles made in their defenses. This type of s >P would be responsible for offensive support of a Soviet Navy task force and orreducing the enemy’s electronic capa- bdities.
^ electronic environment is forcing e Soviet Navy to develop a combat the- 0ry that can keep pace with the strategic an<J technological nature of a global uavy. Thus, the appearance of such a ship 3s instigated another phase in the Soviet . avy s combat theory. If the Soviet Navy |s to challenge the U. S. Navy’s elec- ronic warfare systems, it must have the rne‘lns and the weapons that would provide it with success in action.
In the not too distant future, one may be able to state that the success of the Soviet Navy is a direct result of its electronic capability in action. Currently, while the Soviets acknowledge the importance of electronic combat in articles and discussion, its place in battle has yet to be defined. The navy’s basic military theory is once again changing. The Soviets likely would exploit any U. S. reduction in the research, development, and capability of electronic warfare. They may well obtain an advantage by progressing swiftly and forcefully with electronic warfare on a ship the size of the SSV-33.
'S. G. Gorshkov, The Sea Power of the State, Oxford: Pergamon, 1979, p. 208.
2Maj. Ralph M. Bruner, U. S. Army. “Soviet Military Science and the Falklands Conflict—Part III,” U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, January 1986, p. 140.
’Ibid., p. 142.
“Ibid., p. 140.
Mr. Cross is currently a freelance writer and consultant on military theory and defense technology in Great Britain. He received a bachelor’s degree in war studies from Sunderland Polytechnic in 1983, a master’s degree in the same subject from King’s College, University of London, in 1985, and has worked in the research department of Vickers Defence Systems. His articles have appeared in many publications.
Mgking Use of Unmanned Air Vehicles
% David R. Ramey
. Both the threats and the opportunities today’s naval warfare are greater as a testdt of several emerging technologies.
e most obvious growing threat is the ■tcrease in numbers and variety of the antlship cruise missile (ASCM) and the ev°lving performance, capability, and sophistication of the several versions of j ls threat. While the United States and .s aBies have developed their own ver- ?10ns °f the ASCM, the Soviet Union as’ by far, the most diverse and threatening assortment of these modern weap- Pns’ Moreover, all of the countries that ave manufactured antiship missiles have ottPorted variants of them to other na- 0ns, some of which have subsequently ecn turned on their suppliers or their SuPpliers’ allies.
The growing capability of modem, Jyered, and integrated air defense sys- ems presents another threat. These sys- ms, properly employed, can severely ‘mit the ability of naval aircraft to prose- ^te strike or antisurface warfare tASUW) missions successfully. Increas- jng attention, therefore, has been devoted 0 Protecting mission aircraft and to suppressing the air defense systems. This it- SeB dilutes the effectiveness of the attack Slnce substitution of self-protection ePuipment for ordnance reduces the mission payload.
One of the opportunities currently emerging in naval warfare is the unmanned air vehicle (UAV), and a subcat- e8°ry of the UAV, the remotely piloted Vehicle (RPV).1 Suitably configured variants of this platform can contribute sig- mficantly to countering ASCMs and antiair defenses, in addition to augmenting "e organic surveillance capability of surface combatants.
Missions and Requirements: The Israeli armed forces used UAVs in 1982 in several operational roles. Some UAVs used stabilized television cameras and data relay for reconnaissance and artillery spotting and others acted as jammer vehicles and decoys both to locate opposing surface-to-air missile (SAM) sites and to force the opponent to expend missiles harmlessly. The ensuing air attacks by “real” Israeli aircraft were met with a minimum of resistance and few losses occurred. This demonstrated effectiveness of UAV employment obliges military planners of the world to consider this technology both as a potential capability as well as a potential threat.2
Since that time, NATO countries have exerted considerable development effort in exploiting this technology. The U. S. Navy, in particular, has deployed and operated a shipboard version of the Israeli-designed, U. S.-produced Pioneer RPV on board the USS Iowa (BB-61) during operations in both the Mediterranean and Arabian seas. Despite some initial difficulties in climbing the learning curve, the use of these fixed-wing platforms for naval gunfire support (NGFS) target spotting and correction, as well as over-the-horizon (OTH) surveillance, must be termed a success. According to Naval Air Systems Command Program Manager Captain Penn E. Mullowney, the Pioneer vehicles logged some 207 flight hours during the 1987-88 Iowa deployment.3
In spite of this success, there are some drawbacks to the existing Pioneer system that argue against its long-term ability to accomplish all conceivable UAV missions. Among these problems are the cumbersome methods of launch (by a rocket-assisted takeoff booster) and recovery (by a large net), the sheer size of the Pioneer vehicle (16.9-foot wingspan and 14-foot length), the use of gasoline as fuel, and the large number of operation and support personnel required for the current system.4 These difficulties might be insurmountable for smaller ships, which have manning, storage, and deck handling limitations; more severe ship motion; and the competition of other systems for the available space. Accordingly, before UAVs are employed from smaller ships, these problems must either be eliminated or reduced to acceptable levels. Furthermore, an acceptable smaller ship system must augment current capability or provide new capability, and must have sufficient operational payoff to justify adding a new system to already-crowded warships.
In response to the emerging UAV technology, in 1987 the NATO Naval Armaments Group (NNAG) established a special working group, designated SWG-11, to determine UAV system small ship requirements for NATO. Captain Mullowney of PMA-263 was named to chair the group; an industry support group also was tasked to provide, gratis, amplifying information and study effort in a number of areas, including mission definition and mission essential equipment.5
The NATO SWG-11 established several ground rules as the basis for its study and analysis effort. First, it defined a small ship as any ship displacing between 250 and 8,000 tons; this category includes every type of warship from the Federal Republic of Germany’s fast pa-
The Pioneer UAV proved itself in combat in 1982 when the Israelis used it against the Syrians. Here, a rocket assists the Pioneer’s takeoff from the Iowa; a net will recover it. Two operators control the UAV from a single, three-station console.
trol boats to the U. S. Navy’s Spruance (DD-963)-class destroyers. Second, while it recognized that it would be possible to install an RPV or UAV on a nonhelicopter-capable ship, SWG-ll’s standards would not allow the UAV to displace helicopters on ships that already have them. This clearly limits the size of acceptable UAV systems. Finally, the group identified an operational need for several varieties of UAV in several range and endurance categories. It also mandated a common control system for all versions of UAV.6
During the course of the study, other forces were at work. Growing congressional concern in the United States about multiservice proliferation of different but similar UAV systems resulted in a Congressional Directive mandating that the Department of Defense establish a joint UAV organization to avoid duplication. Congress had no qualms about the three categories of UAV generally agreed upon as required (short range, medium range, and long range), but did have serious questions concerning the need for specific armed service UAVs. This joint office has been established within the purview of the Joint Cruise Missile Project Office under the direction of Rear Admiral William C. Bowes. Army Colonel Michael Norris is deputy director under Admiral Bowes, and a joint UAV master plan has been delivered to Congress. The release of some $ 137 million in development and procurement funds is projected.7 As in the NATO effort, an industry support group has been established to assist in defining requirements. Table 1 details the UAV variants specified in the DoD Master Plan, together with some of the anticipated payloads.
In the meantime, the NATO special working group has been working to determine the direction of naval use for small-ship UAVs and RPVs. In addition to surveying and assessing the current state of development of these platforms, the group also is developing the definition of appropriate and feasible missions and determining the payloads necessary to perform these missions. Currently, six candidate missions and three submissions are envisioned for UAV systems. These missions are
► Airborne early warning (AEW)
► Over-the-horizon targeting (OTHT)
► Electronic warfare (EW) with electronic warfare support measures (ESM), jamming, and decoy as sub-missions
► Amphibious operations support (including NGFS)
► Antisubmarine warfare
► Communications relay
Battle damage assessment (BDA) is a sub-mission. These missions are in addition to the NGFS spotting mission that the Pioneer system is already performing. The culmination of the NATO SWG-11 efforts should take place this year when three of the candidate vehicles will be demonstrated in operations from naval ship vessels.8
While some limited study is underway regarding the use of fixed-wing UAVs and RPVs from small ships, the problems associated with launch, recovery, and storage of these relatively unwieldy ait' craft have, so far, eluded solution. The SWG-11 effort, therefore, has concentrated on rotary-wing (or at leas! semirotary-wing) unmanned aircraft- These types of UAVs permit vertical- takeoff-and-landing operations, which are much more amenable to the limited space available on small ships.
Candidates: There are three developmental UAVs that could be potential candidates for the U. S. close range and the U. S. and NATO standard short range for small ships. These are the Bell-Boeing Pointer, a miniaturized UAV version ot the V-22 tilt-rotor aircraft (semi-rotary wing); the Canadair CL-227 Sentinel, a dumbbell (or peanut)-shaped vehicle with the contra-rotating blades between the engine and fuel-upper bulge and payload- lower bulge; and the British ML Aviation Sprite, a miniature helicopter with contra-rotating blades that is by far the smallest of the candidate vehicles. Some of the salient characteristics of these platforms are listed in Table 2.9
Comparing these characteristics reveals a wide variance in the three systems. The low payload capacity of the ML Sprite might limit the number of missions this UAV could accomplish. While the Canadair Sentinel and the Bell- Boeing Pointer have comparable payloads, the Sentinel would need about twice as much time to station. Neither the Sentinel nor the Sprite could perform a mission that required a ceiling greater than the 10,000-foot Sentinel and Sprite maximum. On the other hand, operating and handling the smaller Sentinel and Sprite would probably be easier. All of these factors need to be addressed in
Table 1 UAV Variants Specified in the DoD Master Plan Together with Selected Requirements*
Maximum Range from
Speed
UAV Variant Control Station
Loiter Time Hours
Required Payloads
Close-range
Short-range
Medium-range
Endurance
30 km | 1 to 6 hours | Unspecified |
150 km | 5 to 12 hours | Dash Between |
|
| Loiter Points |
700 km | None | High Subsonic |
300 km | To 36 | Unspecified |
Source: “Matrix of DOD Nonlethal UAV Requirements,” Electronic Combat Report, 17 June 1988.
Table 2 Potential Candidates for DoD and NATO Small Ship Close- and Short-Range UAVS* Sizes: Height Weights:
Rotor Span Takeoff Max Spd Endurance Development
Ceiling Hours
Imaging, Electronic Warfare Imaging, Communications Relay, Electronic Countermeasures, Meteorological Designation, Nuclear-Biological-Chemical Imaging, Meteorological
Same as Short Range plus Signals Intelligence and Measurement Intelligence
Vehicle Mfr Designation
Storage** Payload Knots
Status
Bell-Boeing Pointer | 5 ft High 18.5-ft Span 360 ft3 Stor | 550 lbs 75 lbs | 160 | 25,000 |
Canadair CL-227 Sentinel | 5.5 ft High 9.25 ft Diam 30 ft3 Stor | 420 lbs 100 lbs | 70 | 10,000 |
ML Aviation Sprite | 80 lbs 13 lbs | 70 | 10,000 |
2.5 Hover
3-4 Depends on Payload,
Mode of Operations
2.5
a>rcraft and ASCMs. Indeed, much larger ^sterns have been proposed and—to s^nie degree—funded to perform the kW mission; the naval airship is an example.
ePth; other physical and operational inflation must be incorporated in approbate mission analyses.
Equipment: The equipment currently Preferred for the AEW mission is an air- erne radar with ESM as a secondary Sensor. Installing a radar on board a SrnaH-ship-compatible UAV is probably Impractical because current and projected AVs have such small payload capacities and a large power-aperture product is required to detect low-radar-cross-section
Even though ships have a much larger radar echoing area than aircraft and mis- 1 es> installing an airborne radar within e 70- to 100-pound payload limit of AVs may not make sense for the OTHT ^ssion, either. For OTHT, however, as 0r AEW, ESM could perform at least Part of the mission. Although ESM requires a radiating target, it is a practical °ng-detection-range sensor that could Provide useful or even critical intelligence to the ship and force.
For shorter ranges, electro-optical sensors appear to fit the weight and volume limits of the vehicles, and to be effective for the OTHT, BDA, and amphibious support missions. Electro-optic sensors include both standard and low-light-level television, forward-looking infrared, and infrared search and track. While the range of these sensors is limited in bad weather, they are the current norm for a standard UAV payload and can provide extremely useful information to the commander.
The EW payloads addressed by the NNAG SWG-11 include ESM and electronic countermeasures (ECM). ECM would be separated into different missions—that is, jamming of enemy radars and decoying of ASCMs—but a common payload could perform both missions against certain classes of emitters. Indeed, jamming may be a more effective ECM technique against some of the more advanced ASCM threats than the simpler repeater-generated false target decoy. Moreover, a common jammer frequency coverage could provide coverage against both ASCM-seeker radars and certain associated targeting radars. The use of a long mission time (three to four hours) offboard jamming capability, deployed and maintained on station would offer indications and warning of a probable or possible missile attack. This capability could minimize the ECM’s reaction time. Moreover, it could permit early assessment of the ECM’s effectiveness for more efficient use of both ECM and hard- kill resources.[3]
The ASW mission probably would be performed either by a small, RPV-bome dipping sonar, or by a vehicle that would deploy one to three sonobuoys and a data relay for these or for sonobuoys previously deployed by ASW aircraft. In such a way, the sonobuoy would continue monitoring even while an ASW helicopter, for example, deployed in another field, performed another mission, or refueled.[4]
Using UAVs in the communications relay mission would extend very-high or ultra-high frequencies communication ranges by relay beyond the radio horizon. Essential communications, therefore.
Smaller ships could not handle the large, cumbersome Pioneer. The Pointer (below), the Sentinel (right), and the Sprite (below right) are the short- and close-range UAV candidates.
could be maintained, but an enemy’s ability to detect and locate over long ranges would be limited.12
Other UAVs: In addition to the short- and close-range UAVs, the U. S. Navy and U. S. Air Force currently are evaluating proposals for a mid-range UAV that would permit extended-range, unmanned reconnaissance. This capability would increase the surveillance area without risking valuable manned aircraft and their more valuable aircrews. These UAVs would be deployable from both ships (Spruance-class and larger) and aircraft (A-6 and F/A-18V13 While the currently specified payloaa is limited to optic and electro-optic sensors, the use of ESM for collecting radar order of battle electronic intelligence and locating threat emitters appears to be a logical alternate payload. In addition, using jammers on aircraft- launched, mid-range UAVs would provide added protection for ingressing strike or ASUW aircraft and could greatly reduce the effectiveness of the opposition’s antiair warfare.
UAV Advantages: One can argue that other systems available or under development could perform all of the missions envisioned for the currently projected UAV family. While this may be true to an extent, the UAV can offer some added benefits that currently—if not lacking— are at least in short supply:
► Continuity of Surveillance: While carrier battle groups and helicopter-equipped surface ships already have organic OTH capability, the ability to maintain continuous surveillance is contingent on the operational availability of the aircraft assess). During aircraft refueling or other maintenance, a suitably equipped UAV could act as a gap filler and accomplish at least some surveillance.
ML AVIATION
► Low Risk to Personnel and Equipment: The use of RPVs for artillery spotting, as amply demonstrated by Israeli forces and also by recent operations from the Iowa, allows accurate targeting and correction without risking valuable personnel and aircraft. One can argue that the use of active ECM from helicopters, which have a larger payload capacity, could provide the same or greater effectiveness in antiship missile defense as could a UAV. But because of maintenance or other mission requirements, helicopters may not always be available. Further, using a manned aircraft as a jamming decoy places the aircraft and its aircrew at risk; traditionally, the U. S. Navy has not embraced the Kamikaze principle as a viable philosophy of operation. Although the cost of a UAV and a reasonably capable payload probably will be significant, the loss of one UAV unit unquestionably would be less traumatic, both monetarily and operationally, than the loss of an aircraft and crew. The UAV has thus been termed “semi-expendable” by at least one ob-
14
server.
► Organic OTH Targeting: As increasing numbers of small units are equipped with such ASUW assets as Harpoon, the ability to target organically beyond the horizon would greatly extend area coverage
by widely dispersed units and would increase the capability of single units to conduct semi-autonomous operations. This may not always be desirable, but the flexibility inherent in such a capability is a valuable asset in itself.
► Stealth: The small size and the shapes and other design features of the candidate small ship close- , and short-range UAVs result in low-detectability signatures. Careful payload design against anticipated threat sensors also can minimize the UAV’s detectability.
While many problems are yet to be solved, the increase in individual ship capability and the offensive and defensive flexibility of force deployment justify the exertion of considerable effort m their solution. UAV technology will not revolutionize naval warfare, but it certainly can provide an evolutionary expansion in the ability of naval surface forces to perform their missions.
‘The designation UAV includes RPV as a member or subset; UAV also includes drones and other uncontrolled vehicles. For example, ASCMs are, in the broadest sense, a form of UAV.
2Steven M. Shaker and Howard B. Shaker, “Israeli Weapons Technology and the U. S. Military,” So- tional Defense, March 1986.
3John D. Morrocco, “NATO Navies Will Demonstrate Use of RPVs from Small Ships,’’ Aviation Week & Space Technology, 4 April 1988.
4Stanley W. Kandebo, “Aerospace Techniques In1' prove Accuracy of Battleship Barrages,’’ Aviation Week & Space Technology, 9 May 1988; and AAI Corporation, Pioneer RPV, brochure, 1987.
5Naval Air Systems Command; Incorporating Advanced Technologies into RPV Systems to Supp°ri U. S. and NATO Missions, proceedings from 198' RPV Symposium, 3-4 June 1987.
6Ibid.
7“DOD to Spend 2.1 Billion on UAV Procurement- RDT&E in FY 90-94, Says Master Plan,” Elec' tronic Combat Report, 1 July 1988.
8Milan M. Skrtic (Chairman, Mission Definition Study Group), Mission Definition Study Group Pe' port, SWG-11 briefing to NNAG, 2-3 December 1987.
9Bell Helicopter Textron Inc./Boeing Vertol Company, Bell-Boeing Now Present the Tiltrotor RP^^ UAV Pointer, brochure; Canadair/Texas Instruments - CL-227 Sentinel, brochure; and ML Aviation, Sphte Mini RPH, brochure.
10David R. Ramey, A Preliminary Analysis of Methods for Countering the High Speed Low Altitude Ant1 Ship Cruise Missile Threat, White Paper, 16 June 1987.
“Skrtic.
12Ibid.
I3Private Conversation with Mr. A1 Walker of Beechcraft Aviation, 19 May 1988.
,4Comment by Captain Lewis L. Cobum, USN, ca- July 1987.
Mr. Ramey currently is employed by Raytheon Electromagnetic Systems Division as a Senior Development Engineer for Systems. Since his retirement from the Navy in 1969, he has been involved with electronic warfare analysis and antiship missile defense, including 11 years at Naval Ocean Systems Center, San Diego, as an operations research analyst-
Prototype
Testing
[3] Engineering Development
Models Under Test
and Evaluation
Development
Testing
Source: Bell Helicopter Textron Inc./Boeing Vertol Company, Bell-Boeing Now Present the Tiltrolor RPVIUAV Pointer, brochure; Canadair/Texas Instruments, c-227 Sentinel, brochure; and ML Aviation, Sprite Mini RPH, brochure.
‘Estimate; assumes rotors removed and UAV partially disassembled.