THE NAVAL POLICY OF THE UNITED STATES IN THE PACIFIC AREA
By Lieutenant (jg) W. P. Roop (CC), U. S. Navy
I.
What strategy is to tactics, policy must be to strategy. Tactics deals with our procedure in the immediate presence of the enemy. Strategy gathers up the total of our naval resources and endeavors to bring them into effective action culminating in a favorable tactical maneuver. Policy seeks a still broader basis and develops a naval establishment in conformity with the objectives which the nation sets before itself, proportioned so that strategy, and in its turn tactics, may follow through to a successful outcome. Tactics forms the ships, strategy the fleet and bases, and policy the Navy.
If tactics and strategy are generally regarded as coming strictly somewhat more within the scope of the technical naval profession, it is partly due to a confusion of policy with politics. Politics, at its best, is the effort to influence policy. It is not part of the function of the naval officer to determine what the nation's objectives shall be. Their real choice lies with public opinion. It is the administration of the means for making national decisions effective that constitutes the primary function of the naval officer. However, it is not sufficient that we should accept certain materiel which is placed in our hands and keep it polished against the day when it may prove useful. The Navy has also in time of peace a campaign to carry on, namely, the setting forth to the nation of the necessities which potential war imposes. We may not tell the nation what it desires, or should desire, nor how to obtain what it desires. But we must consider the military consequences of the desires of the nation. We must clearly understand what the national foreign policy is, and what its military implications are.
Questions of policy are largely questions of information. The best information we can get may be conjectural; unfortunately that is often true also in strategy and tactics. It is, of course, necessary to know the tactical power of the various elements of the various fleets. It is also necessary to know the strategic value of the various elements of power in the larger theater of actual or potential operations. It is still further necessary to know all that is possible to know of the impelling force of the motives that carry us toward war. Unless we are in some degree able to foresee the necessities which political policy is going to impose on the Navy, there is danger that in a crisis the Navy may be found inadequate. The obvious and simple solution is to have a Navy capable of answering all possible requirements. Now that it has been determined not to do this, we must give the most earnest consideration to the question as to what the actual requirements are going to be.
This conception of naval policy, though possibly somewhat broader than that of the Regulations (N. R. 2053), is not inconsistent with it nor opposed to it. However, no detailed calculations as to our quantitative requirements in naval strength, as determined by our international relations, will be undertaken in this paper. It is desired rather to advance certain ideas as to the need for preparedness in the Pacific area, and as to the general lines which this movement might appropriately follow.
II.
Suppose the Pacific and its littoral, with the five or six hundred million men living within its drainage area, to be replaced in our thought by a similar area affording similar contacts, among a similar number of beings totally distinct from the human race yet similarly homogeneous and with an equal capacity for communication. We can imagine that the multiform relations which would be developed in such a situation would have great interest for a person with adequate means for observation, and that systematic study would be considered justified, simply as a matter of scientific activity. The value of such scientific work, it is important to observe, would depend altogether on its character of disinterestedness (in the sense of personal advantage of the observer.) It is not possible for an individual man to form judgments in the actual Pacific situation that are absolutely impartial, and even less so, where he is one of the five or six hundred million. Nevertheless, if there is to be any clearness of foresight, it is most likely to proceed from exactly this sort of detached observation; such, for example, as that of the biologist in his study of an order of life totally distinct from his own. The strategist must arrive at the same sort of personal detachment. It is necessary, we will suppose, for the gun-captain to visualize the blows his gun can deliver, as being placed by a fist on some individual's chin. But as we proceed to consideration of matters of strategy and policy, it is necessary to think in terms of large units and ultimate purposes.
Now it is one of our characteristically generous American beliefs that there is room for everyone on the planet, if we will only stop fighting and work together. Our tender-heartedness even extends to the point of solicitude for the feelings of dumb brutes, as witness our laws against cruelty, and against use of animals in biological experiment. Since many persons never arrive at the detached viewpoint, even with respect to such a matter as vivisection, it becomes impossible in general for them distinguish between detachment and cruelty. This is an intellectual defect which must be overcome. Cruelty, of course, no one can condone. But what an absurdity it is to permit a distaste for harrowing thoughts to dominate our foreign policy! We set great store by the idea of equality among men; what we sometimes fail to perceive is, that even after the Declaration of Independence and the Emancipation Proclamation, equality can only be achieved by struggle. We have a noble ideal; let us hope that the course of world events may not lead us in the direction of abandoning the struggle to realize it. But if we are not going to abandon it, how can we undertake to declare our opposition to all international struggle, as a matter of principle? How can we yield to the easy belief that, having arrived at the premier position in the world in point of wealth and standard of living, we can continue to discharge the responsibilities of that position solely by entering on an evangelical campaign to convert the world to our own ideas of pacifism?
It is not possible that the modern world should tolerate the suppression of the individual incentives and humanitarian instincts, which have come to operate more powerfully in our own country than elsewhere. It is still possible, however, to claim a virtue in that loyalty to one's nearer associates, which transcends one's obligations to humanity at large. In fact, the stage at which the development of human character now stands is such that it is precisely in that devotion to our neighbors that we find our most effective antidote to the vagaries of an anarchism which, however beautiful it may become at some future epoch, leads, at present, only toward unhappiness. Altruism may eventually furnish the ruling motive in human relations; for the present it must be tempered with an intelligent regard for the necessities imposed by things as they are.
It is, therefore, necessary at the outset, not only to divest ourselves of passion and hatred, so that our views may be unclouded by our desires, but also to set aside those generous impulses upon which everyone would like to be able to act, and consider matters purely on the basis of our own best ultimate national interest. We believe ourselves to be free from aggressive designs. We believe, in a way, that the salvation of the world depends on America. Let us beware of the complacent idea that this belief is shared by everyone. We desire to see the world freed from the curse of war. Let us avoid the too sanguine hope that such a decisive and complete break with the past can be accomplished without risk and sacrifice, courage and determination.
III.
What do men fight for? A very great deal of thought has been given to this question since 1914, and broadly two opposing opinions have arisen. One is that war is the culmination of a chain of circumstances, of a cycle of events; if only the chain can be broken at a single link, if only the cycle can be brought to its turning point without the mobilizations being set going, then the crash can be postponed; and possibly by a series of compromises the postponement might be continued indefinitely. The other view is that although war is catastrophic, superlatively wasteful, and subversive of nearly everything that civilization strives for, nevertheless it is the only method so far available for the definitive resolution of certain deep-lying conflicts of interest. According to this view compromise leads only to the accumulation of grievance. The only way to put an end to war is to make it unnecessary, by finding another means of settling matters which war, however great its cost, does have the merit of settling.
Without further discussion we will accept the second of these theories. We will agree that the unity of the United States could not have been achieved, or the ascendancy of Germany in world-power could not have been checked, without war. We will immediately inquire what sort of questions they are which it takes war to settle. Broadly, there are two matters with respect to which men may arrive at that stage of desperation, where war is the only way out: one is their standard of living, the other is their inner convictions. There are two currents which may drift toward war; one proceeds from a conflict of economic interests, and the other arises in political or religious motives.
It would make a highly instructive study in economics to obtain a direct numerical comparison as to standard of living, between the various communities bound together by the Pacific Ocean. Such a study would encounter very serious difficulty, however, owing to the dearth of definite data. There might also be some question as to the standards of comparison. Many of the comforts which we enjoy, others profess not to desire. We are, however, on fairly certain ground in establishing the following scale of standards, beginning with the lowest:
Malaysia.
China.
Mexico.
Japan.
South America.
Australia and New Zealand.
Canada.
United States.
The larger part of the Chinese population lives in such a state of chronic poverty, that the provision of enough food to sustain life monopolizes their attention. That the Japanese stand at a level intermediate between ourselves and the Chinese, is shown by the fact that American labor, when placed in direct competition with Japanese labor, is seriously embarrassed by the capacity of the Japanese to accept (we will not say withstand) greater hardship. And in the presence of Chinese competition, the Japanese is similarly embarrassed. In default of statistics we will cite a single case which, though possibly extreme, is typical. Incandescent bulbs are at present being manufactured in Shanghai by an American firm. In America, in 1921, a daily wage of $10.00 was being paid for a daily task of 1,000 bulbs. In Shanghai the wage was forty cents for 2,000 bulbs. At that same time the actual cost of bare nourishment was not greatly different in Asia and in America. Rice raised in California was exported in quantities to Japan.
Comparisons like this are familiar enough not to require amplification. The disparity between the Asiatic standard of living and ours is so immense that, for our present purpose, it may be regarded as one of the fixed conditions of Pacific relationships that no person accustomed to average American living conditions would be likely to survive a complete shift to average Asiatic living conditions.
Now modern communications are having the effect of placing the various Pacific communities in new and intimate contacts with each other. The result of free intercourse will certainly be to give rise to a tendency to equalization of the standards. There are, of course, many forces by which the tendency to equalization is opposed. Thus customs duties and exclusion laws operate partially to restrict intercourse. Also in America the higher standards of consumption are paralleled by higher standards of individual productivity, the fruit of mechanical genius and a talent for efficient organization. Again, there are America's unmatched and untouched natural material resources. We may with certainty depend on retarding the process of equalization. But it is almost equally certain that we shall not be able to stop it altogether. The standard of living in Asia is rising. Is it rising fast enough to satisfy the pressure for equalization, opposed as it is by the various agencies which can be brought to bear? If it is not, then the only remaining alternative is that our own standard must fall.
An individual suddenly transferred from the average working conditions at Gary to those at Han Yang would simply perish. But a nation faced by the prospect of a lowered standard of living will certainly make desperate efforts to add to the strength of those forces, which we have mentioned as acting to retard the movement toward equilibrium. If the nation is unable by peaceable methods to resist a gradual decline, or even unable to maintain a moderate rate of progress, is it not fully to be expected that there will be an attempt to establish more favorable conditions by an appeal to force? We are confronted, we will say, with this situation: Chinese development proceeds to the point where an industry requiring large quantities of unskilled and semi-skilled labor, based on extensive natural resources—in a word, the steel industry—is carried on more cheaply in China than in America, and very much more cheaply, so that Chinese steel can be delivered on the Atlantic seaboard with a margin of thirty per cent for duty and still meet competition from Pittsburgh. Steel consumers are able to prevent an increase in the tariff. Every possibility of cheapened production in America has been followed through. American sales managers will certainly not overlook the alternative of forcing an increase in Chinese costs but control of Chinese production is found to be firmly held in other hands. Is not some sort of intervention almost inevitable? A billion dollar corporation at home has passed dividends for three years. The basic industry is sick. Millions of men are unemployed. An American diplomatic mission in an Oriental city is engaged in negotiations. Murder in the Orient is sometimes lightly regarded; a number of American officials lose their lives in suspicious circumstances. What American administration could resist the pressure for war?
IV.
Turning to the matter of political and religious ideas, we find again, among the various nations of the Pacific, very wide differences, not only of degree, but of kind. Whatever the number of nominal adherents to the religions of self-abnegation may be, religion seems to exert no restraining influence on aggressive enterprise. While the intense individualism of America finds some counterpart in the extremely decentralized social order in China, both are sharply contrasted with the highly developed national organization of Japan. Military matters, especially, are handled by Japan with a directness which is impossible in our own case. And combined with these contrasted orders of social organization, we find Japan and America each holding fast to the conviction that it has a certain mission in the world. Thus, our effort to Christianize the Orient generally, and the formulation of our Open Door policy; and on the other side we find such a sentiment as this:
"The rise of Japan and the abolition of extraterritoriality have exploded the superstition that the world is to be ruled by the whites."
It is impossible to peruse the quite voluminous literature in this connection without realizing that we are here approaching the fringes of a highly controversial subject. There is nothing at all to be gained by entering into the merits of this controversy here. Reference is made to two books by British authors which may be specially commended for their impartiality and clearness.
Leaving aside all questions as to Japan's intentions in California, China, Manchuria, and Siberia, all question as to the "yellow peril" and the "white peril," we will content ourselves with the observation that the unbalance in the standard of living as between Asia and America, together with the contrast between the two civilizations expanding and developing on the opposite shores of the North Pacific, create a situation the like of which in the past has never failed to lead to war. If war is to be averted in this case, it will require positive constructive action of a kind which was not available to prevent the disaster of 1914.
V.
The effort to maintain peace in the Pacific might be directed along either of two different lines: we might endeavor to establish another method besides war, for accommodating and resolving the existing conflicts of interest by formulating statements of principles for guidance in settling disputes and obtaining, by force if necessary, adherence to these principles; or peace may be maintained by the traditional method, imposed by the unquestioned superiority of a single power, or a coalition of powers.
In considering these matters we must not overlook the possibility that the peace may be preserved to our own disadvantage, and that this might occur by either of the processes which we have mentioned. We can depend on it that no generalized principle will work for us and against our neighbors all the time. For example the acceptance of the Hay doctrine with respect to China is held, in some quarters, to establish a principle which, consistently adhered to, would open the door in California. And as to an imposed peace, what assurance is there that it might not sometime be imposed from the West, by a military force based on the man-power and material resources of the Asiatic mainland? Without shouting about the "yellow peril," it is nevertheless necessary to take these eventualities into consideration.
Let us adhere to fact and avoid controversy. Nothing can be clearer than this: by the terms of the agreements reached at the Disarmament Conference at Washington, one of the various possible courses of events is definitely excluded, as far as the immediate future is concerned. The United States, by agreeing not to fortify any of her possessions west of Honolulu, has definitely withdrawn to a position from which Asiatic waters are entirely out of the range of action of naval forces of the types now available. Guam is 3,300 miles from Pearl Harbor. In the hands of an enemy it could not be successfully attacked without the establishment of an intermediate base, and the guarantee of secure communications between that base and the American mainland. For such an enterprise our present naval forces are entirely inadequate. It is therefore an accomplished fact that the United States is incompetent to enforce peace in the Western Pacific. In view of Mr. Bywater's masterly exposition of this subject, it is unnecessary to expatiate further upon America's weakness there—a weakness which the agreement not to fortify bases west of Honolulu has immensely accentuated since Mr. Bywater's book was written.
Does this signify the entire withdrawal of the United States from Asia, and the abandonment of the Hay Doctrine? In the military sense, yes. In the political sense, no. The same conference was the occasion for the reaffirmation of the Hay Doctrine, the supersedure of the Anglo-Japanese alliance, and the abrogation of the Lansing-Ishii agreement. We reassert all our claims to influence in Asia, and accompany these assertions by a military withdrawal.
It would seem that this would limit future developments to two alternatives: either we will depend on the force of reason and the world's public opinion to prevent peace being imposed from the West, or else we will depend on the strength which China can develop on her own account to prevent the use of her great resources by another power for the purpose of obtaining the mastery of the North Pacific. In point of fact there is a third alternative. It is the alternative which seems most likely to be chosen, and it furnishes the key to our future naval policy.
The third alternative is this: dependence will be placed on naval power which is potential only. In the past, the existence of a fleet in being has been the power that has served to resolve the impasses of diplomacy. It is now expected that the capacity for rapidly creating such a fleet shall serve the same purpose.
VI.
Let us examine the implications of this idea. First of all it is necessary that the matter should be very clearly understood, both by ourselves and by our potential enemies. There is no way in which naval power can more surely lead us into war than by giving an impression of weakness which we do not intend shall exist. We insist on the considerations for which we believe our potential strength should command attention, while from the other side the flow of events is too apt to be influenced only by our actual strength. It lies in man's nature to discount the future. If our potential strength is to be left undeveloped, we must at all events make it clear to what extent it would be developed if circumstances should require. Otherwise, we will find it necessary either to acquiesce in a situation involving the loss of prestige and influence, which would go with exclusion from Asiatic affairs, or else we will find it necessary to carry through to a conclusion a war which will ultimately require the development of a very large part of our latent power.
As it happens, total permanent withdrawal from the Western Pacific is not consistent with our past policy, is not consonant with our obligations already assumed there, nor is it conducive to our own best interest. There appears to be no actual intention of thus reversing our policy, but the important thing is that this should be clearly understood.
The unambiguous statement of our intentions, so far as we ourselves know what they are, with due precautions to prevent a double entendre such as will sacrifice the peace of the future to the convenience of the present, thus appears in the light of a solemn duty, a substantial contribution which we could and should make to the cause of war-prevention. But this is not the only responsibility thrown upon us by the present situation. We have boldly stepped in and pursued an energetic initiative in the diplomacy of the Pacific. The best traditions of our Pacific policy have been upheld and extended. If it ever was possible for us to assume an attitude of indifference, neutrality, and nonintervention in Pacific affairs, such an attitude has now become impossible. The isolation from Europe which the Monroe Doctrine was designed to maintain, and of which our nonparticipation in the European conferences is the latest phase, is not paralleled by our Asiatic policy. The Hay Doctrine is the outgrowth of American ideas applied to Asia. These ideas are fundamentally pacific, but the application to Asia is fundamentally aggressive. Whether the motive be economic and strategic, or whether it be the evangelization of the world for democracy, in any event the fact is that we are committed to participation in Asiatic affairs; and by taking the lead in the Disarmament Conference we have increased, rather than decreased, that commitment. Whatever happens in Asia and in the Pacific, we are in large measure responsible. The treaties of 1922 occupy a central place in the international law of the Pacific, and they are our treaties. We must be a party to any action affecting the treaties or the matters with which the treaties are concerned. Whatever the terms of the treaties or of future treaties, the fact is that we occupy a leading position in any negotiations as to the relations of the world-powers to Asia. Whatever we have to say about Asia will receive attention; and if we say nothing, that also will have its significance. Nothing that we can do, or refuse to do, can alter our responsibility for peace in the Pacific.
The question as to how we may best proceed to preserve the peace is one for which an answer must be found. What means are there for protecting our standard of living from Asiatic encroachment? Is trade with China, present and potential, of sufficient importance to warrant active governmental support in its development? Is our influence for advance in living standards, for stability and freedom from foreign domination in China of sufficient value to China, to the world, and to ourselves, to justify the effort to extend it or to maintain it? Are the Philippines, from any point of view, worth keeping? Can we afford to lose prestige in the Orient, as we necessarily would by abandoning our experiment in colonial administration. What means, if any, are necessary to forestall the establishment of an Asiatic hegemony, directing China's material resources and man-power to the military or industrial mastery of the Pacific? Where is the line between yellow and white to be drawn? All these questions must be answered. By undertaking to limit the capacity of the interested powers for obtaining the answers through the use of military means, we undertake the responsibility for establishing the principles upon which to found the peaceable adjustment of the difficulties. If this responsibility is to be accepted, the Washington Conference marks a beginning and not an end.
VII.
Suppose, on the other hand, that we decline to accept this responsibility for solving these problems peaceably. They will not solve themselves. The peace cannot be maintained simply by limiting armaments. If the force of reason be not established, inevitably the appeal to arms ultimately will be made.
War, we will suppose, is again a reality. Guam and the Philippines are still subject to our military control, but both are to be had for the taking. Will they therefore be simply evacuated by the American forces? Certainly not. Every effort must be made to retain them and to prolong their resistance to capture. Such resistance is of the greatest value in gaining time for subsequent operations. Had there been no desperate losing fight at Liege and at Mons there would have been no Battle of the Marne. Such resistance has especial value in view of the probable effort of the enemy to deliver an energetic surprise action at the start, probably against the Panama Canal, with the intention of closing it before the junction of our fleets. The prevention of such a success might depend on a week's resistance at Manila.
Let us consider this point somewhat more in detail. The effectiveness of the fortifications at Panama has been questioned. It is certain that dependence is placed on the very great superiority of a shore gun over an identical gun afloat. Without passing judgment as to its probable success, it is safe to assume that some effort to close the Canal will be made. Now in the case of a very sudden onset of war, it is quite possible that the junction of our fleets might be delayed by reason of the limited overhaul facilities in the Pacific, necessitating use of the Atlantic docks. Of course the closure of the Canal at any stage would be a very serious setback, on account of the interruption of the stream of supplies; but it would be doubly so if it occurred before the Atlantic Fleet went through. Railroads can deliver supplies, but not ships.
Manila in our hands would embarrass the attack on the Canal. It might not be possible to make use of Manila directly to prevent operations against Panama, for Manila does not flank the great circle route to Panama, any more than Samoa flanks the route from Honolulu to Panama. Nevertheless the delay necessary for taking Manila might be sufficient to turn success into failure at Panama. Or if operations against Manila and Panama were carried on simultaneously, the division of forces might have the same effect. Again, if operations against Manila were postponed until after the attack on Panama, failure at Panama would open the way to an early offensive on our part, in which the continued possession of Manila would not be entirely without value. It may be questioned whether any major ships would be risked in early operations against Manila or its communications. Defense against attack from other vessels would be a matter of keeping the communications open to the garrison operating against the enemy's investing forces, with offensive operations against his water communications. With our battle fleet intact, the maintenance of these communications would be a matter of the rapid development of a sufficient tonnage of cargo carriers and troop transports, with suitable protecting armament and convoy. If with the help of such forces Manila could be held. temporarily, the problem of relieving Manila would be primarily one of providing the troops, munitions, and transport necessary for land operations, and of creating an island base for operations against the enemy's water communications.
Guam, it is assumed, would be lost at an early stage. Its value to our forces would be very great if it could be retained, but it could not. Its value to the enemy forces would not greatly add to that of the numerous island bases already available. These island bases would constitute a constant source of difficulty to our line of communications, and this difficulty would be greatly increased if any of them should be sufficiently fortified to be able to resist attack without the support of mobile forces. However it is now agreed that none of them shall be so fortified. We may therefore assume that such island bases will have only such protection as it may be possible to provide after war begins. Under these circumstances, the only advantage either belligerent will have over the other will lie in the relative distances of such bases from home ports. If the enemy can maintain his island bases more successfully than we can, he will cut our communications with Manila. But if we can maintain the advantage in the island bases, it will be possible for us to cut his communications with Manila.
The defense of Manila is almost purely a strategic and tactical matter. The questions of policy were settled by the Disarmament Treaties. If Manila can be held for a few weeks, an adequate merchant navy and an assured supply of munitions would be of great assistance in the relief of the city. But the potential Navy before referred to will play no great part. If the potential Navy cannot prevent the war, it may possibly assist in ending the war if, and when, Manila is relieved. But it is far more likely that the outbreak of war will force the conversion of the potential Navy into an actuality.
VIII.
Manila has fallen. Every objective is now shifted. Manila is no longer of any importance. If Manila had been relieved, there would have been an opportunity for a peace that would leave the prestige of the United States unimpaired, and our reputation for non-aggression heightened. But with Manila gone, no choice remains. The mastery of the Pacific must be obtained, once for all. If we do not obtain it, the enemy retains it. His sea power must be effectively extinguished. It is clear that the weapons that we now possess are totally inadequate, for the essential objective is control of the Straits of Korea and the establishment of a blockade. This necessitates the destruction of the enemy fleet, which is impossible to accomplish from Pearl Harbor. Guam must be recaptured, and a first class base established there; the new fleet must be built, manned, supplied, docked at Guam, and guided to victory.
There are recruiting and training problems of course, financial problems, publicity problems, and no end of others. But behind all these is an immensely greater task, in attacking which our efforts in 1917-18 will have to be greatly surpassed. It will not be possible for us to win the war in the Pacific with anything less than the mobilization of the entire nation. The Navy has been preoccupied hitherto with development of a fleet, and to a less extent with the personnel to man it. It is now generally realized that new bases are more important than new ships. But it is not yet generally realized that in the Pacific these bases will have to be so located, that logistic problems of an absolutely novel order are presented. We must project into the remote Pacific not an airplane force, with a range of 150 miles, not a battleship force, with a range of 2,000 miles, but a complete shore establishment sufficient for maintaining the airplanes, the battleships, and a very large number of the various other types of vessels. Home production must be adjusted not only to supply the fleet, not simply to supply the munition workers with food and necessaries, but to the creation and maintenance of a base in the Far Pacific larger than all the American bases now existing in the Pacific, Operations like these will necessitate a nation-wide organization, of a quasi-military character, for purposes that are industrial.
We have, of course, a national industrial organization, and this organization is, for purposes of peace, highly effective. Given time enough, war can convert this organization into one that is moderately effective for purposes of war. But that is by no means sufficient. We must have the means for accelerating this conversion. It is fair to suppose that public opinion will be convinced that war is necessary. Everyone, we will say, will be anxious to help. But good intentions will not turn the trick. There must also be leadership. Our industrial campaign must be planned in advance. Upon whom can we depend for this leadership? Upon the civilian captains of industry? Yes, far more than was possible before 1917. Thousands of men now influential in American industry saw service with the Navy in 19 17-18. But these men lost no time in returning to their civilian occupations. The Navy has entered into their experience, but now it lies in the background. We can depend on these men to bring the Navy to the forefront of their attention after the war has begun. But that is going to be too late.
The industrial campaign must he planned in advance as carefully as the military campaign. This is the chief requirement of the policy of the potential Navy. In the event of the fall of Manila and the conversion of the potential Navy into an actual Navy, the industrial campaign will have to be won before there will be an opportunity for any further military action.
IX.
From an industrial point of view the Navy is not adequately prepared, and is in danger of going backward rather than forward. The Navy Yards, after having been built up to a very high level of achievement, are relapsing into the state where the principal concern is the matter of determining what men will be least difficult to get along without. As to the officer personnel, the outstanding feature is a sterile discussion of amalgamation of staff corps with the line. The burning question is this: how can the Navy's capacity for effective industrial action be increased consistently with other requirements?
The Navy Yards must be saved. There is talk of making the necessary dispositions so that their plant and personnel may be available for competitive bidding on government work outside the Navy. May the talk presently lead to action!
But it is perhaps even more important that the officers of the Navy should be led to realize their new responsibilities and adapt themselves to the new requirements. At the present time officers qualified for industrial responsibilities are limited to the Construction Corps, the Supply Corps, and those line officers who, while on Navy Yard or inspection duty, give serious consideration to the industrial features of their work. If the present proportion of line duties to industrial duties is as 4 to 1, a reasonable value for this ratio would be 3 to 1. It is not proposed to increase the percentages assigned to the Construction Corps and the Supply Corps, but it is maintained that the relative importance of the industrial functions of the Navy, as compared with the line functions, is greater than is at present generally allowed. The industrial functions are not so highly specialized that some of them cannot be successfully carried by line officers who set themselves to the task, but they would be more successfully carried on than at present if their importance were more fully appreciated. The trend of modern industry is in the direction of functional organization; every person must have a definite job, know what it is and be fitted to do it—not only the passer boy, but the foreman and the superintendent as well. In time of war, as well as in peace, industrial supervisory functions will be exercised by line officers. It is a matter of the utmost military necessity that these functions should be performed efficiently, and with knowledge of the limitations of industrial, as compared with purely military, organization.
It is suggested that younger line officers who are temperamentally inclined that way should be encouraged to interest themselves in industrial management and increase their familiarity with it, not only by reading and some form of instruction, but also by practical contact with men of experience, even though these should happen to be staff officers or civilians. There are deep-lying differences between naval administration and industrial administration. Neglect of the second may easily be as fatal, in a war in the Pacific, as neglect of the first would surely be.
Our great fault in 1917 was the year's delay between making up our minds and getting started. What was then done in twelve months, we must next time be prepared to accomplish in less than twelve weeks. We remember the grim comment that every day the war continued cost us $25,000,000. In a war in the Pacific, the cost of delay will be measured in larger units, if, indeed, it does not lead to consequences that are irretrievable.
We must have an efficient, even if moderate, force afloat, with adequate supply and repair bases. If behind that we can combine, with a suitable reserve and auxiliary force, an industrial organization capable of prompt action, and if the facts are known and our intentions clear, Manila may never be invested. If Manila is relieved, our potential Navy may possibly assist in the conclusion of an honorable peace. And if Manila should fall, there is nothing that would shorten the duration and diminish the cost of the long war that would follow, as much as immediate successful attack on the industrial problem.