NOTE: This essay written by Ensign Armknecht when a midshipman was awarded the Henry van Dyke Prize for the year of 1923 at the United States Naval Academy. It is of interest not only for its subject matter, but also because it is an indication of the trend of midshipman thought.
“HISTORICALLY, good men with poor ships are better than poor men with good ships."1
Many years have passed since Mahan first voiced that opinion. It has stood the test of time because it is based upon the judgment of time. It is a basic principle underlying centuries of naval history, universally applicable, unfailing, immutable. It is as much a key to the future as it is a rule of the past. Historical principles do not change; the applications of them vary with the age, but the principles themselves are as constant as the sun.
We need not, however, accept this statement because our greatest naval historian asserted its truth. It is merely a logical conclusion drawn from history, and, as such, may be verified by even a brief reference to the historical sources. Many are the instances where rotten hulks have been kept afloat not so much by strength inherent in their decaying timbers as by the strength of the characters and the staunch bravery of the men who fought them. One of the earliest traditions of our own Navy is the story of how John Paul Jones compelled the surrender of a better ship when his own palsied Bon Homme Richard was in a sinking condition. As long as nations settle their difficulties upon the sea Man quality will dominate Ship quality in influence upon the outcome.
1Mahan, quoted from Gunnery Instructions, 1920. Chapter I.
Man quality is in reality Officer quality. Great leaders have invariably given the credit for victory to their loyal subordinates, but it is well to remember that such loyalty is accorded only to brave, capable and resourceful commanders. It is merely further evidence of their genius that they have succeeded in inspiring such devotion in men.
We have in our Navy men whose presence on a ship insures a high standard of efficiency aboard. Their personal qualities are such as to transform a poor ship into a good one. Such a leader is of unquestioned value; in fact, it is hard to over-estimate the worth of a single efficient officer. No student of naval history will doubt that Nelson's presence on the flagship was worth half-a-dozen ships of the line to the British at Trafalgar. No one will deny that upon his shoulders rested the chief responsibility, nor will any doubt that he merited the applause of the nation which he served. In every case where the contesting forces are at all equal the direct responsibility for victory or defeat devolves upon the men in command.
If officer quality is of such paramount importance we will do well to estimate the worth of our naval leaders. We have long been estimating our strength in ships. We have calculated minutely the value of each unit in time of war. Surely it is time to apply the same test to our officers. It is obviously unfair to judge only by the best—it is even less fair to judge by the worst—of our officers. This essay is intended to estimate the fitness of the average officer for the position he must fill in time of war, to determine his qualifications and his handicaps; in short, to judge his worthiness of the trust and confidence with which the nation regards him.
This subject first attracted my attention as a purely personal problem. I had never seen an officer before I entered the Academy. I was naturally curious to learn the kind of man I was expected to become. I had also to discover whether I really desired to become that sort of man. Daily contact with officers both ashore and afloat has given me certain definite impressions which I shall here set down. I have no personal bias because I am not yet one of them. Most of the material for this essay was collected when I was doubting either my ability or my inclination to become an officer. I offer it as a candid and earnest expression of the results of three years of study.
The part of the general public interested in naval affairs knows that there are approximately four thousand five hundred officers in our Navy. It presupposes a certain degree of professional knowledge upon their parts. It expects them to know navigation and seamanship, ordnance and engineering. It realizes that they are being trained for war command, but of the nature of that training and its efficacy in fitting officers for the exacting duties of war it knows little or nothing. I shall not attempt to analyze the system of training, for the system itself is not so vital as are the results obtained, but I shall attempt to measure the result of an average amount of that training upon the average officer.
Our average naval officer has reached the grade of lieutenant. He has been in the Navy about twelve years: four at the Academy, eight at sea. He has had time in which to become thoroughly acquainted with his profession. He has become a part of the Navy. In the main he is a Navy product, educated by the Navy and for the Navy. The worth of his training will be reflected in the Navy as he makes it. There are certain elements in his education which must be examined if we are to arrive at a just estimate of the man.
The training of our average officer began at the Naval Academy. He entered after mental and physical examinations designed to weed out the less desirable. During his four years at the Academy a constant eliminative process returned to civilian life those who failed to conform to the standard. It is not pretended that this process removed all of the undesirables. Neither did it retain all of those who might have made capable officers. But it cannot be doubted that its general tendency was toward improving the quality of the graduates.
His training at the Academy was of necessity but a ground-work for the training to come after it. An attempt was made, then as now, to send out graduates who knew fundamentals well enough to use them as a guide in a further acquisition of knowledge. Of course that attempt was in some measure unrealized. Many graduates entered the service with only fragments of knowledge. What they knew was merely a composite jumble of facts, unappreciated because they were not co-ordinated and ready for use. Most of this knowledge was useful knowledge, only the average graduate had yet to learn the use of it. In this particular our average naval officer was no worse off than the graduates of other schools. His lot was even better than theirs because he had not been allowed to waste time on electives and because the goal of those four years of effort was never lost sight of by those who supervised his training.
Since graduation our average officer has had eight years in which to find his place in the organization. He has ceased to wonder whether he might not have done better "on the outside." His viewpoint has become the service viewpoint. He is definitely a part of the Navy and is fairly representative of the whole. Our estimate of him as he is today is an estimate, a fundamental estimate, of the Navy itself.
In at least one particular the average naval officer is far above the average civilian. He is definitely capable physically. He is erect, taller than the average, and generally well-developed. It is right that he should be, for there is no profession in which physical stamina can be used to better advantage than in that of a seagoing officer. If he goes up for promotion he must pass a physical examination or be eliminated. His daily life is a continual test of his fitness in that it requires of him a constant example of erect bearing and personal neatness. While it is perfectly reasonable to suppose that a physically weak man might occasionally be a very good officer, it is gratifying to know that our average officer, no matter what his other shortcomings, at least looks the part.
In weighing the mental qualifications of our average officer we must consider the quality of his leadership, his professional knowledge, and his attitude toward his profession.
The average naval officer is not a natural leader. That is to be expected, for the best available authority states that but two per cent of men are natural leaders. It would be folly to suppose that our officer personnel comes wholly from that two per cent. But a study of our average officer reveals that the habit of command is a part of him. His experience at sea as a watch and division officer has made him accustomed to being obeyed. Although he is not a great natural leader he has grown into the ability to control men. He has learned leadership because his profession requires him to be a leader. With such training it is natural that he should be at his highest efficiency when the tasks required of him are of a routine nature. He has learned to administer by following routine; he is perfectly familiar with it, thoroughly acquainted with the traditional methods of doing things. By holding to tradition he is certain of doing his work acceptably, even if not to the limit of his efficiency. From the standpoint of executive method the naval officer is one of the most conservative of mankind. It is true that executive methods in the Navy advance, but they advance through the efforts of the few officers who solve their problems in their individual ways instead of doing them by rote. Imitation is so easy that the average officer falls into conservative habits of thought. As one writer has said,2 "he finds more pleasure in old methods of doing than in new modes of thinking." The Navy, as well as the world at large, progresses through the efforts of the very small minority that will not be denied. There is such a minority in the Navy—it is perhaps a more substantial minority than in the world at large—and it is the leaven of searching intelligence which accounts for all naval progress.
Our average naval officer has a real interest in the technical side of his profession. While the examinations for promotion do not weed out all who are wanting in professional knowledge, they at least compel the officer to make some effort to learn. The facilities for learning are of the best, for every officer is purposely shifted through a variety of duties, both deck and engineering, until he knows the essentials of several departments. He has not been permitted to specialize, as has his brother officer in the British Navy; but his natural inclinations have usually led to a specialization, conscious or unconscious, in the particular phase of naval activity in which he is most interested. Thus some officers have a paramount interest in navigation and become expert navigators. Others interest themselves in gunnery or engineering, radio or aeronautics, until they are thoroughly conversant with these subjects. An officer who knows a subject thoroughly will, by his conversation, improve the knowledge of his officer shipmates in that subject. In return he learns from them the things they know well. This fact, combined with the enforced application when he occupies positions other than the one in which he is most interested, tends to make his knowledge general. And it in no wise lessens his interest in his favorite subject, the special subject which is likely to lead to his greatest service to the Navy.
2Handling Personnel—Soule. (Quoted from Colonel E. L. Munson, U. S. A.) page 113.
Because the average officer is of a mechanical turn of mind machinery in the Navy has made enormous strides compared to what Mahan calls "the art of naval warfare." In Mahan's day he was much disturbed by this attitude of naval officers. He said, in one of his addresses before the War College:
What wonder then, gentlemen of the Navy, that we find our noble calling undervalued in this day? Have we not ourselves to blame for it in this exclusive devotion to mechanical matters? . . . . . . . The steed is all; the rider naught! . . . . . . . Have not we, by too exclusive attention to mechanical advance, and too scanty attention to the noble art of war, which is the chief business of those to whom the military movements of the Navy are entrusted, contributed to the reproach which has overtaken both us and it?3
The condition Mahan pictured does not apply in the present day. The Navy is in no sense a reproach, and the popularity of the course at the War College evinces a real interest in warfare as an art. But the average naval officer—and it is he with whom this paper deals—has, as yet, too little interest in this all-important phase of his profession. It is unfortunately not possible to fight a battle every day. General quarters is an attempt to simulate locally the condition of action. But it is a drill, requiring assiduous attention to minutiæ and constant supervision of each bluejacket's part. Thus the average officer finds himself so engrossed with details that he has little time in which to imagine the larger phases of bringing the ship into action. Without proper strategic and tactical forethought the guns, no matter how efficient their crews might be, would go for naught. The importance of the study of warfare as an art is readily recognized. The more comprehensive maneuvers of recent years have stimulated interest in tactics, but there is still much for the average officer to learn concerning the conduct of naval operations.
3NAVAL INSTITUTE PROCEPDINGS, vol. 14, Page 637.
There are also instances where the passion for creating new weapons has not been balanced by a thorough study of their use. Take, for instance, the development of the torpedo. The modern torpedo is a marvel of mechanical complexity and efficiency. Many officers have contributed to its increase in power and effectiveness. Improvement has been steady because officer interest in it as an intriguing mechanical puzzle has never slumped. But statistics show that, in spite of the fact that the torpedo has many more ways in which to go wrong than has the man who directs it, fifty-one per cent of the misses in the last torpedo practice were caused by errors in operating the director. When it is realized that the director is operated by a commissioned officer, that it is in no sense a complicated instrument, and that mistakes in operation are in a great measure chargeable to insufficient practice on the part of the officer concerned, it is time to consider if more time might not well be spent by the average officer in drilling himself and less upon the development of mechanical aids.
Conversation with officers lately returned from the destroyer service, where officers of about average rank are in command of the units, discloses another phase of the same condition. Administrative ability of a high degree is necessary to operate a destroyer effectively. There is less discipline, less system, to help the destroyer commander than is at the disposal of the captain of a battleship. If his task is to be well performed such an officer must maintain his crew at a high state of morale, which is to say, he must be able to depend upon them for many things which he and his officers cannot personally supervise. It takes more than departmental rules, more than routine decisions, to bring a crew to such efficiency. Constant thought, constant effort are needed—and it is here that the average officer finds himself most at a disadvantage. He somehow does not dare to rely upon his own powers of mind. He does not seek assiduously for solutions to the problems confronting him. He is content to do what he knows must be done, but unwilling to consider what might be done.
This criticism of the average officer should be balanced—if we are to do him justice—by considering the degree to which men in other walks of life are limited by this same mental lethargy. Thought—earnest, plodding, brain-racking thought—is still the rarest and most valuable commodity in life. There is in the Navy a leaven of painstaking intelligence. The percentage of officers who think conscientiously about their tasks probably compares very favorably with the number of men in the commercial world who run their businesses instead of allowing business to run them.
We may safely judge our average naval officer's attitude toward his profession by the interest he shows in it. For most officers the Navy holds a vital interest. Our average officer must eat, sleep, work and travel aboard his ship. In consequence he thinks much about his ship and the Navy it represents. This interest in naval matters may limit his attainments along other lines, but it is most beneficial in developing his professional qualities. Golfers are not more enthusiastic about golf than naval officers are about ships. A new and powerful type of ship is to them a subject of absorbing interest. Our average officer is now being encouraged to express these enthusiasms to the outside world through the medium of short addresses and articles for the press. When he can do this effectively he will have added to his professional worth.
The war is recent enough to give valuable testimony as to the behavior of our average officer in time of stress. Nor should we neglect this important factor in estimating his worth to the nation. The war provided stimuli enough, necessity enough, and hardship enough thoroughly to test the mettle of our average officer. His response to that test showed that his personal bravery, steadfastness, and loyalty are to be depended upon.
But after the war came an even more convincing proof of his worth to the nation. One of the most notable exploits of our Navy was accomplished after the cessation of hostilities. It was our average officer who was responsible for the successful completion of the hazardous and stupendous task of removing the North Sea Mine Barrage. There was none of the glory of war in that operation; no foe to fight; no battles to be won. There was only the seamy side of it—hardship, discomfort, danger. It was exacting work, done under most unfavorable conditions, yet our average officer, imbued with the spirit of the thing, encouraged by the odds against him, fought on until success rewarded his efforts.
In summarizing then: our average naval officer is physically well fitted for his position, schooled by practice in the art of command, interested in mechanical advance, indifferent to war as an art and to administrative problems, enthusiastic about his profession, and capable of high courage and loyal devotion to duty in times of national emergency. As long as he retains these characteristics he may be reckoned a stalwart asset in our first line of defense, a credit to his organization, to himself, and to the nation which he serves.