Suppose you had half a dozen apples, someone gave you three oranges, and you subtracted five sacks of flour. How many automobile tires would you have left? Impossible? Our elementary school teachers might have said so, but according to the experiences of Seabee supply officers during the war, this was logical mathematics and smart business. With materials short as they always were due to limited shipping spaces, widely spread allocations, and a multitude of other reasons, bartering based upon curious mathematical twists was a necessity.
The job of supply in a Seabee battalion was not only a matter of procurement, storage, and issue of all the tangible needs of the individual thousand-man units, including provisions, lumber, equipment, tools, toiletries, clothing and pay, but also it was a competitive battle of wits in a wide open market of trades and deals.
Computing values of a few boxes of automotive spare parts in terms of cases of beer, or vice versa, was not at all out of the ordinary in advanced areas where the mission of Seabees was to build whatever was needed to sustain fighting and support forces.
The Seabees became famous during the war for accomplishment of gigantic construction projects under the most adverse conditions of weather, terrain, and enemy action. But bridges were not built without lumber, buildings were not erected without materials, airfields were not completed without equipment, rolling stock could not run without spare parts, nor could a man drop his tools and fight the enemy without guns and ammunition.
This is where the battalion supply officer came in. In addition to meeting the major needs of the battalion as a whole, the supply department operated the little services which, though seemingly unimportant in the winning of a battle or the building of a bridge, were of tremendous importance to the well-being and comfort of the men. These were the barber shops, cobbler shops, sundries stores where one could buy combs, chewing gum, soap, etc. There were laundries and even watch repair shops.
These activities usually formed the very heart of the recreation areas in Seabee camps overseas, and walking through such sections one could catch a bit of the old frontier atmosphere with the rugged facilities, makeshift barber chairs, and blaring signs, all intermingled with the generally high spirit of a man’s world in the realm of adventure and danger.
The supply officer had to have the right kind of clothing for the men for whatever climate they were in, whether in Alaska or in the steaming jungles of the South Pacific. His all-important job was, of course, feeding the men. In short, the supply officer’s job was to furnish his battalion with everything it needed to keep going, and failure in supply often meant failure in the project. All the intangible assets of skill, experience, and training in the world could not span a river without the tangible materials with which to use those assets.
What made the function of supply particularly interesting, as well as harassing, was the fact that not all supplies were plentiful, and it took a great deal of business acumen and shrewd salesmanship to obtain things for the outfit.
Unforeseen obstacles in forward areas, inspired either by natural or enemy forces, often changed the classification of items from top essential to useless, or vice versa, thereby creating excesses and shortages which called for redistribution.
Consider the battalion which, upon briefing prior to its landing, had been informed that it would land on a broad, hard coral beach. For handling pallets and boxes, a fork-lift was thought to be an excellent piece of equipment for expediting unloading. Had that unit actually landed where it was originally planned, the fork-lift would have indeed saved many manhours of work.
But last minute orders brought them in to another beach. There was no coral, not even a real beach—just soft sand for a few feet, then hip-deep mud reaching right into thick jungles beyond. The fork-lifts were immediately dubbed useless.
The only compensation in this unfortunate turn of events was the fact that at least the supply officer had an excess item to use for trading collateral.
It was no wonder that during the early months of Seabee war service, redistribution was effected on a competitive basis. One had to try to find what he wanted, if it was at all available, and then try to get it by bartering. And such trading was real business on a truly commercial scale.
But the curious thing about these “commercial” enterprises was that money and money values, as such, had little to do with the net evaluations of assets.
An example of this is the fact that a supply officer with a box of cigars worth five dollars could not get as much in trade as the person with a dollar and eighty cents’ worth of beer.
Any economics professor will tell you that one of the primary principles of economic theory is that when demand exceeds the supply, value takes a jump. In advance areas where the supply was determined by shipping allocations, monetary values had practically nothing to do with the true value of commodities. Under such conditions worth was determined largely by availability—in short, worth was not computed in dollars and cents, but rather by quantities of other available goods.
One particularly complicated transaction exemplifies this fact. A supply officer wanted just one ton of fresh provisions which a ship, preparing to sail for the States, had “for sale.” The ship’s supply officer had lost several cargo nets during some hazardous loading operations and found himself short on that item. His terms were definite: one ton of provisions for three cargo nets.
Three cargo nets at an average price of $45 each are worth $135, as compared with a ton of fresh provisions which amounted to around $800. The trade was deemed a good one by both parties.
Since the battalion supply officer had no cargo nets, he had to get them somewhere if he wanted his provisions. He found a unit ashore with three spare cargo nets, but to them three cargo nets called for six jeep tires.
Off went the battalion officer in quest of six tires, keeping an eye open, of course, for a better source of nets if he should spot any. After all, the best commercial concerns do a little shopping around; and besides, he might make a better deal somewhere else.
Finding a unit with plenty of extra jeep tires, he discovered that they too had terms. They needed some engine parts, a carburetor, some seals, a filter, and some copper tubing, in return for which they would give up the tires.
The search went on until the battalion officer found an army truck company with some spare parts for which they demanded just two cases of ice cream mix. He knew where he could get mix, but the holders of that valuable commodity had terms also. They wanted the use of his boat in exchange for some ice cream mix.
The supply officer made some hasty calculations and agreed to allow them the use of the boat for two full days for six cases of ice cream mix. The deal was made. His promise of the use of the boat would have to be fulfilled—but God help the man on an island who displayed the lack of good judgment to go back on a promise!
He got his mix.
Two cases of mix were delivered to the army unit for the spare parts, the spare parts went for tires, the tires for the nets, and the nets were turned over to the ship’s supply officer for one ton of fresh provisions.
The battalion supply officer not only got what he needed, but he made a little profit of four cases of ice cream mix on the side, which he had not anticipated.
Who said you cannot add or subtract oranges and apples? Six cases of mix plus spare parts minus two cases of mix plus tires plus cargo nets equals provisions. Phony arithmetic? Maybe so, but darned good business.
What about the battalion supply officer's time spent in all that? Well, he was getting paid to make sure his battalion ate well.
The amazing aspect of the above series of transactions was that money values had nothing to do with them; and when all deals were consummated, everybody was happy.
Another officer was confronted with the problem of finishing the floor of a warehouse he was building. Finding an outfit with plenty of lumber, he was asked to hand over 20 five-gallon water cans if he wanted the lumber. lie went back to camp, picked up a couple of cases of boneless beef which he had in excess, proceeded to an army unit, and offered his “wares” for 35 water cans. The proposal was accepted with pleasure, whereupon the supply officer turned over 20 cans to the lumber outfit and got his materials to finish his floor job.
Thus another impossible mathematical manipulation was accomplished; 35 water cans minus 20 water cans plus lumber minus some fresh beef equals one warehouse floor and 15 water cans profit.
In carrying on such functions of procurement the supply officers had to be veritable salesmen as well as buyers with ability to make quick decisions on current values and then to consummate the trades. And those who had keen perception in the changing demands and needs were the successful ones in the business of Seabee supply.
But supply duties were not confined to such activities. The operation of a thousand- man general mess, for instance, was a fulltime job in itself with the management problem involved in supervising cooks, bakers, butchers, provision warehousemen, financial accounting, menu planning, procurement, and maintenance of the high naval standards of meals.
No supply officer, indeed no Commanding Officer, could escape the bald fact that food was always the greatest single factor governing the morale of men, and particularly men in construction work. Men engaged in heavy physical labor all day long want and need good food and plenty of it, and they are quick to complain about poor rations or inadequate quantities thereof.
Seabees were no exception, and though a supply officer might know all the current regulations, military courtesies, naval traditions, and logistics fundamentals, he was not worth much if his food was not tops.
Aside from the internal management of a galley itself, the problem of transporting large loads of provisions from places of obtainment to the refrigeration plants and warehouses required more than mediocre ability to organize working parties, trucking schedules, and unloading schemes in such a fashion as to avoid spoilage in hot climates.
In addition to the physical aspects of food handling, the supply officer had to account for his provisions by money values. The average cost of feeding a full battalion for a month was around $16,500, or $550 per day. And supply officers had to carry over $25,000 worth of provisions on hand to meet continuing and emergency needs.
Battalion supply officers’ jobs did not end with the feeding of personnel. Their duties in connection with the ship’s store confronted them with the personnel and management problems of coordinating the activities of a barber shop, tailor shop, watchmaker shop, cobbler shop, clothing store (clothing and small stores), and a general store.
The Ship’s Store was a self-supporting, profit-making enterprise in which profits are limited to 15 per cent of gross sales. Think of the business problem of remaining within that limitation and at the same time establishing prices to cover losses due to breakage in shipment, pilferage, battle damage, weather spoilage, etc., and still have enough profit to afford an adequate battalion welfare fund.
The problem of setting prices commensurate with demand and supply required careful consideration, and the officer’s ability to feel the needs of his own men determined the degree to which he was able to avoid having a lot of useless and unsalable items in his store. Store management also involved being a veritable “czar” over critical items of personal consumption such as beer, soap, cigarettes, and other limited commodities. Officers had to be cognizant of the over-all supply situation which dictated possibilities of future availability.
The average monthly sales in a battalion ran around $10,000 to $15,000 per month; and in battalions located in isolated areas where the ship’s store was the only place a man could spend any money, the average was sometimes over $30,000 per month.
In the store alone, supply duty meant management of a $120,000 per year enterprise.
Among the items carried in what is called the “G.S.K.,” or general store keeping items, were swabs, brooms, wire, rope, tentage, nails, hammers, lumber, pipe fittings, electrical supplies, spare parts, general issue clothing, bedding, tableware, and a host of other items. Supply functions reached into every tiny nook and cranny of the battalion’s many activities, and in no detail could the department fail the men or officers of the unit.
The battalion supply officers each had an assistant for disbursing who handled the payrolls and payment of battalion financial obligations. The average monthly payroll of a battalion amounted to between $60,000 and $70,000 each month. To meet such rolls the disbursing officers in forward areas where banking facilities were not available had to carry well over a quarter of a million dollars in cash in their vaults.
Government regulations covering the handling of public funds are very strict, and no bank in the country can claim more stringent rules for their tellers and cashiers than Uncle Sam. Mistakes made by disbursing officers are made up out of their own pockets, and as a result disbursing duty in the Navy has had a sobering effect on young officers which under normal development in private pursuits would take years to attain.
By Navy standards, honest intentions are not enough. Accurate reporting and strict conformance to regulations was, and is, the aim in naval disbursing, and the Navy Department has a long-established policy of formal inspections of supply and disbursing officers for purposes of ferreting out inaccuracies or inconsistencies in the handling of public property or funds.
The men who found themselves confronted with these myriads of supply and disbursing problems were, for the most part, officers between the ages of 20 and 30 who had either recently graduated from college or had had but a couple of years of civilian experience in various pursuits.
Of the latter group some were budding young lawyers, some were teachers, others bank clerks, a few were in business for themselves, some were shipping clerks struggling toward top executive positions. Some had graduated from college with economics degrees, others in business administration, or commerce, and some were graduate engineers.
In the Seabees their opportunities for original thinking and innovation were even more unique than in other general billets. The sky was the limit in the exercise of individual thinking, creative genius, and initiative.
One officer in the Admiralty Islands found himself faced with the problem of trying to feed his battalion which was scattered in liny groups on about four small atolls off the main island of Manus. He had a main galley on the main island taking c?.re of 600 of the men, but each atoll had about 100 of his battalion’s men. The distances between the atolls and the headquarters camp were too great to justify commuting—hence the problem: how to feed these men and maintain any semblance of morale among them.
The supply officer solved his problem by renovating an old abandoned Japanese barge. By rigging a propulsion unit to the stern, installing a two-by-four sales room, and a tiny storeroom for provisions, ship’s store sundries, and clothing, he had a “supply ship” which plied its way among the atolls about twice or three times per week to replenish the supplies required by each 100 man gang.
Another officer, realizing how much time was being lost in transporting men between camp and a distant project three times a day for meals, had the carpenters rig him a “chuck” wagon on a cargo trailer. At mealtimes the men could knock off for long enough to eat and relax for a few moments and then go back to work with real vigor, instead of wasting a half-hour each way from job to messhall and back again over rough roads which left them grumpy and upset.
Supply officers had to be ever ready to improve their methods, their arrangements, and their systems to match the productive pace set by the engineers, and it was no simple task in view of the many and varied functions which they had to supervise.
The older men who came into the Navy as supply officers, those who had more than a couple of years of business experience, not only brought with them a maturity of outlook and managerial finesse, but they also brought with them original and stimulating ideas of doing business. Where emergencies demanded that trading be the watchword, these ideas developed as an interesting sidelight into the realm of redistribution on a competitive basis.
Most certainly, in a strict military sense, leaving such distribution to the whims and fancies of supply and demand was not a perfect condition. Higher naval authorities, sensing the need, of course created higher echelons to coordinate material and operational effort. These were the Regimental and Brigade staffs with eventually a task unit designated as The Commander, Naval Construction Troops. But the “business” of Seabee supply continued much as it had in the past.
Comparing some of the Seabee supply jobs with their counterparts in civilian life, many supply officers immediately assumed responsibilities which they would never have been permitted to assume in civil life until they had at least 10 to 15 years’ experience and had proved their ability.
The operation of the mess alone brings with it essentially the same problems of catering, menu planning, palatability of foods, procurement, and storage that any large commissary of a corporation, hotel, or restaurant presents. The general supply section of the supply department is easily comparable to the job of warehousing and distributing for a city-wide supply firm. The ship’s store and its satellite activities is comparable to the operation of a comfortable business with its management, accounting, and personnel problems. And the functions of interpreting the laws relating to pay and allowance are somewhat comparable to the job of interpreting tax laws, income tax returns, and financial reports.
Taking the whole department in one huge chunk, with all its sections and subsections, Seabee supply was indeed Big Business.