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The OV-lOs and the crews that flew them are all but gone, and this is not a plea to retain them. It is rather some observations on a series of personnel decisions made during the 1980s in the Marine Observation Squadron (VMO) community that led to the loss of the only Marine Corps aviation asset whose sole purpose was to be the eyes of the ground commander.
Almost all of the decisions were reactions to breaches of flight discipline and accidents that resulted from failures in flight leadership—and leadership in a flying squadron relates directly to the tactical proficiency of the flight leaders. If an officer cannot hack it, rank will not save him. Failure to recognize this fundamental concept was—and is—epidemic in the VMO community.
Several of the accidents involved personnel previously identified as marginal- to-incompetent aviators. Leadership— moral courage—could have prevented these accidents.
Several institutional factors contributed to the problems, which began in the early 1980s. The biggest was the lack of an OV-10 Fleet Replacement Squadron, which left it to the two active Fleet Marine Force (FMF) squadrons to train replacement aircrews. Inevitably, the everpresent and higher-priority operational commitments took precedence over training, which was stretched out to the point that some aviators required 11-13 months to complete the 15 flight hours and 10 or so syllabus sorties to qualify in accordance with Naval Air Training and Operational Procedures standards. Becoming proficient enough to make a real contribution to the squadron’s mission was pipe dream for many.
I
Training was so backlogged at one point that VMO-1 had 23 replacement aircrews—but not enough qualified pilots to support two simultaneous detachments.
Nevertheless, the community maintained its reputation for tactical proficiency. Aviators who persevered and qualified as Forward Air Controller (Airborne) and Tactical Air Coordinator (Airborne) were good at their jobs. Unfortunately, when their leadership potential
was neither fostered nor nurtured, they began leaving the service. Their resignations, attributable at least in part to actions by short-sighted, unimaginative superiors, were the first trickles in the flood that swept the squadrons away.
One attempt was made to alleviate the replacement aircrew problem in the short term. Some first-tour aviators, with two to two-and-one-half years on station, were allowed to return to the Naval Air Training Command for duty as instructors. These aviators, with approximately 300 flight hours of fleet experience, by and large did not enhance the image of the observation community. The successful ones transferred to the Navy; others who were not augmented into the regular Marine Corps left the service. The performance of this group of aviators can only be described as disappointing. Moreover, the leadership potential of the successful ones was never developed in the community, because none of the group returned for a second tour in Broncos.
But there was more to the problem than just too many replacement aircrews—their ability in many cases was suspect. OV-lOs were a dumping ground for the those who finished at the bottom of the advanced jet training command and the combination of weak first-tour aviators, scarce flight time, and drawn-out training cycles set up squadrons for the initial wave of aircraft mishaps and deaths.
The pilots were only part of the equation, though. Aerial observers (AOs) drawn from the infantry and the artillery were crucial to mission success; they were the strength of the squadrons. The ground combat-arms experience they brought to the squadrons was an immense advantage on the battlefield, and the aviation knowledge they took back to their units when they left the squadron was the best advertisement that Marine aviation could hope for.
Their two-year “Swing with the Wing” tour was time very well spent. Although it counted as a “B” billet, the AO could stay in the Fleet Marine Force, fly the Bronco, and deploy everywhere. Most important, he learned and practiced every
facet of supporting arms coordination
This sounds great, but there was5 catch: it was a one-time tour. After t"° productive years, the fully trained AO 0 the community—never to return if he wanted to stay competitive for promt1' tion. The squadrons constantly lost 50* of the pilot-AO team; as individual A1 developed the credibility to provide tW flight leadership that was so desperate!) needed, they left.
Field-grade AOs posed a different and significant—problem. First, a field'] grade, ground-combat-arms officer doin- a flying tour with the wing is suspect, W definition. As the career counselors con' tinually expound, he should have bee" serving in his primary specialty, devel; oping that all-important “credibility- Then the issue of individual tactical pr°' ficiency reared its head. As commission^ AOs got only one flying tour, most field grade AOs had completed their academ11 AO training years before being assign^* to a squadron. They were out of date, and as a group, they proved that you cannl‘ teach an old dog new tricks.
But they were majors and became de' partment heads: another recipe for disay ter was approaching the boiling poin1' Many of them who should have bee] providing the leadership for the squadron instead, time and again, in every clii”1 and place, demonstrated their tactical i"' competence—and leadership in a flyi"] squadron is based on tactical proficiency
The results were predictable. First, tW field-grade AO, or pilot for that mattcr' because of his marginal tactical pro!' ciency, did not provide flight leadership Second, as a department head, he dfj nied someone else the opportunity to the position and develop as a leader, h’ credible frustration set in on the partl' tactically proficient aviators who ha been in the squadron three and four yeah' directed to train the senior personnel, the! ended up stagnating behind them.
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Officers who rose above mediocri1' were routinely stifled by their senior' Displays of leadership and tactical cellence by a junior aviator were pe,l ceived and treated as a threat. Many 0 the young OV-10 pilots resigned
years of frustration. While Marines do not desert their posts under fire, it is unfortunately true that the only legitimate Protest an officer can make in some cases 's to resign. Many promising officers did just that.
Recent promotion boards have deep- sixed the few pilots who persevered. How tactically proficient captains, who hold every OV-IO qualification possible, can be passed over for promotion can be understood only in light of the conditions Prevailing at the time. Worse, no OV-IO Pilot with back-to-back FMF tours has
been promoted to major recently. If officers of skill and experience are not promoted, where is the leadership to come from?
All this brings us to the summer of 1985 when a Bronco and its crew were lost in an aircraft mishap. One of the corrective actions taken to prevent recurrences was to increase the number of field-grade officers in the squadrons to provide leadership and instill flight discipline. In practice, the policy opened the OV-IO community to second-tour pilots transitioning from helicopters, and the old Bronco
Just flying the aircraft is not hard— but flying it at low altitude, turning hard to stay close to the action, monitoring several radios, and sorting out a confused battlefield complicates things considerably.
nemesis—its reputation as a marginal aviator dumping ground—surfaced again.
In a purely unscientific, undocumented, biased opinion, roughly 25% of all pilots transitioning since 1986 have been successful. Some came to OV-lOs to get fixed-wing, multiengine turbine flight time to make them more attractive to the airlines; some came to run away from their old communities. The successful ones came to be OV-IO pilots.
While flying the OV-IO is relatively simple, developing the tactical proficiency required to make the air-ground system work can take a lot of time. Unfortunately, many of the transition pilots had difficulty just flying the airplane. Unlearning helicopter habit patterns was a tough nut to crack. And while experience in one aircraft would seem to make it easier to develop leadership in another aircraft, this most emphatically has not been the case in the Bronco community, especially with respect to field-grade officers of whom much is expected.
Spatial disorientation was commonplace. Transport helicopters rarely engage in violent maneuvering in all three dimensions. Inverted flight is not something that helicopters do well or often. Yet this is precisely the OV-lO’s regime: hard maneuvering in all dimensions, slice turns, and inverted flight. Staying ahead of the airplane while spatially disoriented is almost impossible. For many of the transition pilots this proved too much.
Once the transition pilot was in the community, however, he stayed. All of the problems of the tactically incompetent field-grade AO came with the tactically incompetent field-grade transition pilot.
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One attempt to develop leadership from within and to foster continuity was made: the Supporting Arms Coordinator (Airborne) [SAC(A)] program was initiated to train proved, FMF-experienced AOs as naval flight officers. With a few exceptions this program has worked well. But even the exceptions proved a significant drain on the rapidly diminishing energy reserves of the community.
The Marines who made the high-level personnel decisions no doubt had the best of intentions. The Marines who made decisions that kept known incompetent aviators in cockpits, or sent infantry lieutenants who would not make captain over to be AOs, or decided that marginal helicopter aircraft commanders could be
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During Operation Desert Storm, a single detachment of long-endurance OV-lODs with integrated forward-looking infrared systems, laser rangefinder-designators, and trained air crews provided round-the-clock reconnaissance and served as indispensable communications links with all supporting arms agencies. The ground Marines in Desert Storm loved the OV-IOD, but the last Marine Corps squadron. Marine Observation Squadron (VMO)-4 in Atlanta, Georgia, is scheduled for decommissioning in March 1994, leaving our Marine ground forces without that critical link in the combined arms system—which is not what it used to be, either.
Retaining a squadron of OV-lODs in the reserves until a suitable replacement platform is fielded would be prudent.
Marines travel light and do not have the heavy artillery assets that support their Army brethren. Naval gunfire used to fill in the gaps, but the big naval guns that served the
A Farewell to (Combined) Arms, Unless . . .
By Major D.H. Fisher, U.S. Marine Corps Reserve
Keeping Marine Observation Squadron (VMO)-4’s new OV-lODs—here over the expeditionary airfield at Twentynine Palms, California—alive and well in the reserves would be a very smart thing to do. It’s not too late.
someone else’s problems were not being malicious. They were trying to give a good deal to a good guy. Besides, they probably rationalized that it wouldn’t hurt anyone.
What Is a Mobile Inshore Undersea Warfare Unit?
By Lieutenant Samuel W. Asbury, U.S. Naval Reserve
In any event, the VMO community throughout the 1980s was a magnet for marginally effective officers. The concentration of such mediocrity in one small aviation community represents an institutional failure of leadership, laid squarely
Littoral warfare, the new buzzword in Navy circles, is coastal warfare— coastal sea control, harbor defense, and port security, executed both in coastal areas outside the United States in support of national policy, and in the United States as part of this nation’s defense.
In any event. Mobile Inshore Undersea Warfare (MIUW) Units have been in
Corps so well in every major conflict since World War II have been silenced—victims of post-Cold War budget cutting. Most U.S. Navy ships now sport only a single 5-inch/54 caliber gun mount—and some have only a 76-mm mount; neither has the range or destructive power required. Shore-based antiship cruise missiles may force our ships farther off shore, decreasing even more their limited range. Tomahawk and Harpoon missiles are essentially useless in the direct support of Marine infantry.
Although there is much talk about new systems, there is no money in the current budget to develop, test, or buy any of them. Scratch naval gunfire from the combined arms team.
Marine aviation must take up the slack. Rotary-wing Marine air provides the ground commander with mobility, logistics support, and potent attack helicopters that can offer tremendous short-term punch for the ground commander. Their limited range and payload, how-
Iever, craft.
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at the feet of the Marine Corps.
The individual errors and failures of leadership are heartbreaking—they have contributed to 16 deaths and 25 aircraft losses. What is inexcusable is that many of the victims had been identified to the command as accidents waiting to happen. The losses occurred in peace and in war and we were fortunate that more were not lost during Operation Desert Storm. The U.S. Marine Corps, and the OV-10 com-
this business since the Vietnam War, but many otherwise knowledgeable naval officers seem to know little about their mission and capabilities. It is time for Navy exercise planners to use some valuable assets that are too often overlooked.
Proceedings/January
The units’ primary mission is to conduct surface and subsurface surveillance of amphibious objective areas, harbors
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munity in particular, allowed this to hap" ship pen. It was a betrayal of trust. ■ chor
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Captain Stolzenberg, an OV-10 pilot and 1981 N‘iV-' | t-1 Academy graduate, served as a Weapons and W ,e tics Instructor and Aviation Safety Officer with Ma" "'1th rine Observation Squadron (VMO)-l while on activ- 1 Corp duty. An honor graduate of Amphibious Warf.V; j School, he flew 18 missions in OV-lOs during Of r eration Desert Storm. He resigned from the Mari'11’
Corps in 1992 and is an associate engineer with RSVt . test Technologies in Houston, Texas. I tlity.
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and approaches, roadsteads, straits, ah' eye; chorages, advance bases, and other id' dini; shore areas of military or economic in1' and portance to support the requirements ot D mobilization or contingency plans. Sec Wor ondary mission capabilities include con1' port mand, control and communications, cod' tties trol of airborne mine countermeasure* Aral helicopters, control of surface midc
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In short, units monitor and facilitate command and control in littoral zones. The missions put the units squarely Within the primary Navy and Marine Corps focus on littoral warfare.
The Total Force policy—integrating regular and reserve units—is probably best exemplified in the MIUW community. The 28 units are commissioned and have active-duty personnel. The active- duty to Selected Reserve (SelRes) personnel ratio within each unit, however, is about 76:93%.
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Major Fisher, a Supporting Arms Coordinator (Airborne) with VMO-4, is a survivability engineer with Lockheed Aeronautical Systems Company. He was an Electronic Countermeasures Officer with VMAQ-2 while on active duty from 1977 to 1984.
short endurance. Given limited flight time and training opportunities, the AH-1 community cannot be expected to add new missions and retain a reasonable degree of proficiency in the plethora of missions already assigned. The AH-1W also lacks the OV-lOD’s FLIR and laser designator and there just are not enough attack helicopters to go around.
• The OV-lO’s survivability on the battlefield has been questioned. Granted, it is slower than the F/A-18 and cannot hover in defilade like a Cobra, but its IR-suppression system, IR jammer, and decoy flares controlled by a missile-launch detector provide it with an unmatched capability to survive against IR-guided missiles. (The two OV-lOs lost in Desert Storm were OV-lOAs without IR suppressors or advanced countermeasures.) In comparison, the F/A-18, with the largest infrared signature of any aircraft in the Marine Corps inventory. lacks a missile-launch detector and an IR jammer—and the threat from IR missiles is increasing.
Remotely piloted vehicles (RPVs) have their place above the battlefield, but they currently offer no direct link between the ground commander and the RPV control site and their field of view is very limited. As a result, ground commanders cannot get an overall picture of the battlefield.
Augmenting VMO-4 reserve flight crews with a limited number of active-duty personnel would ensure continued support for ground forces and preserve the highly perishable skills of the pilots and SAC(A)s. When a suitable replacement platform is obtained, possibly an AH-1W or a smaller V-22, such as the XV-15, modified specifically for the SAC role, the reserve squadron can train the new active-duty air crews.
Some argue that the Marine Corps cannot afford to maintain a small number of special-mission OV-IODs; Marine Corps ground forces must decide quickly if they can afford not to.
ever, cannot replace the massive firepower of fixed-wing aircraft.
Neither can they replace smaller, slower, turboprop, fixed- wing aircraft with long on-station times; besides, their other, very important missions would suffer. The answer is what we have—Marine Observation Squadrons, whose legacy of providing ground commanders with command and control, reconnaissance. plus artillery and naval gunfire support—is unequaled. The concept worked in the Korean War, in the Vietnam War, and again in Operation Desert Storm: the need for a dedicated observation aircraft is clear, as are its characteristics, including the ability to operate from unimproved air strips and roads.
All Marine Corps OV-IODs have been updated with FLIR systems to provide day and night video imagery to the ground commander; advanced solid-state, multiband VHF/AM, VHF/FM, UHF, and HF radios; and effective countermeasures to protect against infrared (IR)-guided surface-to-air missiles. Most important, the OV-IOD pilot and Supporting Arms Coordinator (Airborne) team’s primary mission in life is to support Marine infantry by providing a dedicated, flexible link between all elements of the combined arms team. Unfortunately, the Marine Corps has chosen to cast this aside in the name of economy.
The two-seat F/A-18D, touted as the OV-lOD’s replacement, is inappropriate for the mission for various reasons. In fact, it offers everything you do not want in a FAC(A) platform: high speed (try picking out a six-digit grid on a target at 420 knots at 5 G’s—just unfolding the 1:50,000 map is tough enough); short endurance (even if a tanker is always available, the F/A-18D must frequently leave the area for 20-30 minutes to refuel); large geographical separation of the aircraft and crew from the ground forces; and a part-time approach to supporting arms coordination (which probably does not rank in the top five training priorities for F/A-18D air crews).
The AH-1W has also been suggested as a replacement, and although it resolves many of the F/A-18D’s inherent problems, it still suffers from the problem of task saturation and
During fiscal year 1992, personnel participated in Projects North Star, Fuertas Defensas, and Blue Star; Operation Wall- eye; and Exercises Dragon Hammer (Sardinia), Ocean Venture (Camp Lejeune), a»d Display Determination (Turkey).
During Operation Desert Storm, units Worked closely with U.S. Coast Guard Port security units in friendly port facil- 'hes at A1 Jubayl and Dammam in Saudi Arabia, and Manama, Bahrain. Units also
provided security, communications, and logistic support for port clearance operations in Kuwait.
The units have no active-duty counterparts; consequently, they must be fully equipped to perform their mission—there are no regulars to draw from. Their primary piece of equipment is the radar sonar surveillance center (RSSC) van, basically small combat information centers with sonar processing equipment. Without the vans, units cannot conduct surface-subsurface surveillance or control surface craft or aircraft—they cannot accomplish their mission. Outdated vans with obsolete equipment are of no help, yet 12 of the 28 units have old vans configured largely with obsolete equipment that is no longer supportable within the Navy supply system and only four new vans were funded for fiscal year 1993.
Along with reserve construction battalions, MIUW programs have had the most significant surface-equipment shortage problems. According to the Reserve Forces Policy Board, 20% of the units
have been unable to perform their mission because of equipment shortages. The Naval Reserve purchased 20 pieces of civil engineering support equipment— trucks, generators, etc.—in fiscal year 1992, but such equipment only indirectly supports the mission. The Navy to date seems to be accepting the current reduced readiness. Given the demands of littoral warfare, however, reduced readiness is unacceptable; moreover, it can be remedied.
Quick response is a hallmark of Navy and Marine Corps forces. Properly equipped, 28 mobile inshore underwater warfare units can be ready for lift in 72 hours. A single C-5 or three C-141B aircraft can lift the unit and its vans, which can be placed in precise locations by CH-53ES.
Alternatives: Reduce eight units to C-5 operational status and use their assets to provide replacement personnel and gear for the other 20 units; or decommission several units outright. Realize, however, that any reduction in the number of
75
units—or decrease in their operational readiness—goes squarely against the current emphasis on littoral warfare.
Law enforcement. Naval personnel may support civil law enforcement operations, although they may not actually enforce applicable laws. Mobile Inshore Undersea Warfare Units work with the Coast Guard, the U.S. Customs Service, Federal Park Rangers, county sheriffs and police, U.S. Border Patrol, and other agencies while on annual training. Such operations provide the units an opportunity to do meaningful training in detection, tracking, and communications.
Congress is willing to give the military money to support law enforcement.
Since the units have no active-duty counterpart, law-enforcement money directly helps the Navy maintain unit readiness— the primary mission.
Spreading the word. Most naval professionals know something about amphibious warfare, but know little of coastal and inshore undersea warfare, other than what they pick up form the reserve units. Both topics should be incorporated into existing Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard education and training curricula. For the Navy, that translates to adding littoral warfare to the Surface Warfare Officer’s School curriculum and adding a littoral warfare section to the surface warfare qualification books. Littoral war
fare also should also should be added to prospective commanding officer course j! in the Navy, the Marine Corps, and thi Coast Guard.
While the Mobile Inshore Underset j Warfare ship may have sailed in, she i’j not seaworthy. Equipment repairs and up, grades must be funded to meet opera 1 tional readiness requirements. Most ini', portant, naval professionals must learr more about littoral warfare.
Lieutenant Asbury is a second-year law student an« Law Review staff member at Gonzaga Universal School of Law in Spokane, Washington. A surfa^ll warfare officer while on active duty, he entered tl*| reserves in 1993 and is an MIUW watch officer.
Combat Training Can Be Done Pierside
By Lieutenant Commander Glenn M. Irvine, U.S. Navy, and Senior Chief Sonar Technician William V. Quintana, U.S. Navy
Since the end of the Vietnam War, the U. S. Navy’s training philosophy has eroded real tactical ability. Ready for deployment (which theoretically means combat ready) meant that the ship had completed Refresher Training—anywhere from two to four weeks of damage control, medical, and engineering exercises. Little time was spent training watch teams for combat.
Considering what missiles or mines did to the USS Stark (FFG-31), USS Samuel B. Roberts (FFG-58), and USS Princeton (CG-59), few would question the wisdom of time spent on damage control. What continues to be questioned is the amount of time spent training to use the ship’s combat system sensors and weapons. With the exception of the Tomahawk successes of Operation Desert Storm, the Navy has spent its time training for defensive damage control instead of offensive damage infliction.
In September 1991, in an effort to improve training, representatives from the Atlantic and Pacific Fleets convened in San Diego, California, to study the training used for Ticonderoga (CG-47)-cIass AN/SQQ-89- and vertical launch system (VLS)-capable Aegis cruisers. The team chartered itself to develop an efficient, team-building and self-sufficient method of training.
The team found that:
► Much current exercise training is ineffective in developing team warfighting skills.
► Ships lack the targets, missile allocations, exercise torpedoes, and ammunition required to become proficient.
► Critical skills—electronic pulse interpretation, acoustic analysis and air control—are not maintained after initial qualification or inspection.
► Sophisticated embedded training devices that would enhance combat skills were not being used. Because the devices were used in addition to the training instead of the existing training program, few knew what the training devices could do and even fewer knew how to use them.
>■ Limited funding dictated a need for intense, on-board training with little outside assistance.
► Combat-systems team-training evolutions, using embedded training devices, enhance warfighting team and individual skills while incorporating into the training such items as tactical memoranda, captain’s battle orders, existing combat systems doctrine, and standing operational taskings.
Admiral Frank B. Kelso II, Chief of Naval Operations, made it happen with his December 1991 message: “ . . . the ship when properly supported presents the most effective training site for appropriate operational and functional training. This allows ships to train using own equipment, system configurations and op- erational/casualty procedures.”
The capabilities of existing embedded training devices, specifically the SQQ- 89 Onboard Trainer (OBT), in conjunction with existing shore and ship based training devices, were a logical place to start. More than 15 shipboard exercises have been conducted, all designed to support the CNO’s goals of placing realistic training on board ship and achieve the objectives of the Tactical Training Strategy. The following OBT exercises are illustrative:
>• 92-1 demonstrated the capability of an SQQ-89 OBT-equipped ship to transmit OBT-generated LINK 11 data to a non- OBT-equipped ship. The USS O'Brien (DD-975) and the USS Merrill (DD-976)
participated; both were in port. Onc£l connectivity was achieved, both shipsC were able to train in dual-ship operational and localization methodology.
>• 92-5 was conducted at sea during th£| O’Brien's Tailored Ship’s Training Avail'| ability. For three weeks, the SQQ-S^ OBT was used exclusively by the ship ’ combat systems training team for anti' submarine warfare and antisurface war fare (ASUW) training. The team design^ scenarios that forced watch teams to deal with pop-up contacts, urgent and delib' erate attacks, and numerous Harpoon mb' sile engagements. During the final bat'[ tie problem (with the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Training embarked to ob serve Navy training techniques), th£ O'Brien’s Combat Systems Teams puf' sued an enemy submarine while h£( Damage Control and Engineering Team' dealt with damage indicted by an OBT generated target. Less than three month’ later, her crew used the OBT exclusively to prepare for vertically launched ASRO^ test shots.
► 92-7, conducted in port between th£ USS Lake Champlain (CG-57) and tl>£ USS Cowpens (CG-63), was the firs* evaluation of the interface test set (ITS) van, which permits a remote operator-^, five miles away—to stimulate up to seveJ OBTs independently and simultaneously'' The scenario permitted both ships to pm8] ecute two enemy submarines indepe11' dently and in tandem under control of remote test set. Controllers could enhan^ training by varying target tactics in fe' sponse to the ships’ performance.
► 92-9, conducted in port between th£ USS Chosin (CG-65)and the USS Ret (FFG-46), marked the first effort to int£' grate the ITS with a Tactical Advanc£“ Control Direction and Electronic Warfr”
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Proceedings / January
System- and Environmental Generation and Control System-developed scenario. ‘^Despite the spatial and timing problems,
1 the ITS was integrated successfully into a Naval Sea Systems Command-planned '^'Battle Force Tactical Trainer structure.
> 93-1, conducted in port between the llP USS Chancellorsville (CG-62) and the -rJ ITS van, demonstrated the capability of i1'1 the ITS/SQQ-89 on-board trainer to pro- vide tailored training. The crew successfully attacked a Type 209 diesel sub-
The SQQ-89 on-board trainer (top) lets ships like the USS Oldendorf (DD-972) conduct realistic training even while nested pierside in San Diego between the USS Fife (DD-991) and the USS Callaghan (DDG-994). (Left) an operator trains on the SQS-53B on board the USS Shiloh (CG-67).
marine target that had been inserted into the on-board trainer.
► 93-3, conducted in port between the USS Oldendorf (DD-972), the USS Elliot (DD-967), and Light Helicopter Antisubmarine Squadron (HSL)-49. It was a multiship/aircraft scenario-driven exercise. The spatial and timing problems of