Comment and Discussion

 

 

 

ensure that his troops will stand up to the “flashing bayonet.”

If “iron discipline” is to be likened to “the case-hardened gears in a 10-ton truck,” we had best devote our research efforts to devel­oping some new form of lubricating leader­ship; no known form will stand up to the friction we will generate when we try to con­tain a twentieth-century sailor in a nine­teenth-century gearbox.

Rather than revert to the disciplinary practices of the past, let us, as Herman Mel­ville so aptly wrote, “have another captain to rule over us—that captain who ever marches at the head of his troop and beckons them forward, not lingering in the rear, and im­peding their march with lumbering baggage- wagons of old precedents.”

As our standard we might well take the words of the late Admiral Forrest P. Sherman before the Naval War College on 16 June 1950: “The only discipline which will surely meet the test of combat is one that is based on the fact that all hands have pride in a great service, a belief in its purposes, a belief in its essential justice, and complete confidence in the superior character, skill, education, and knowledge of its leaders.”

Lieutenant H. J. Connery (Medical Service Corps), U. S. Navy.—In their various references to the imposing upon, stripping, and restricting of the traditional military leader’s prerogatives, the authors are literally inviting attention to the decreasing limits that are being imposed upon the expression and demonstration of individuality within the military. At the same time they insist we must all agree that individuality must be sup­pressed.

Their presentation of this highly question­able premise, as fact, may very well have colored their approach to the extent that they may be shooting for a bull’s-eye while aiming at the wrong target. They state, “in building military teamwork, the first step to be accomplished, as all must agree, is sup­pression of individuality.” They then state that this is indisputably true.

In my opinion this is very disputable. Should ever we all agree to this, we would become overwhelmingly ineffective as mili­tary organizations. Might not it be more realistic to say, and believe, that “in building military teamwork, the first step to be ac­complished is training to direct the expres­sions of individuality within the limits pre­scribed by organizational traditions, rules and regulations, and that within these lim­its there remains room for the expression of all kinds of individuality?”

Today’s career military leader, officer or enlisted, must be a versatile individual. He has to be so in order to thrive, function, and succeed in ever-changing organizational and world-wide environments. Although it may be said that, in some respects, “military per­sonnel are all alike,” there remain many re­spects in which each is different from the other. Although we may be more alike than we are different, the differences among us contribute directly to the effectiveness and uniqueness of our organizations.

What military leader, effective or ineffec­tive, is not known among his contemporaries for his individuality, for those aspects of be­havior, character, personality, etc., that make him distinct and unique? Verification of this is all around us. Just listen to what people talk about and have to say in assessing their juniors, peers, and seniors.

We occasionally hear reference to the nega­tive attitude of military personnel. This is usually stated in a derogatory sense. How­ever, we tend to forget, or neglect to consider, that military personnel are continuously re­minded of what they cannot do. Depending upon the timing, location, situation, and par­ticular command, the limits may be so re­stricted that there may seem to be little left in terms of what they can do. When this hap­pens, in fact, or in distorted perceptions of the situation, it is no wonder that we observe negative behavior of the “so-what” and “I- can’t-do-anything-about-it” variety. Under such conditions, the officer or enlisted man who can continue to demonstrate effective behavior, who can get the job done in the ex­pected manner, and who can continue to promote the traditions and values of his organization, is truly a man of individuality.

In spite of the position they take, it appears that the authors reflect a sincere concern for the increasing limitations upon the expres­sion or demonstration of individuality by operational leaders in the military structure.

When such leaders, who are held responsible for ultimate performance in which there is no success in being second best, begin to feel that their hands are tied, it is indeed time to be concerned. Somebody might well listen.

"Drone in a Fog”

(See page 144, September 1960 Proceedings)

Lieutenant (jg) M. K. Pedigo, U. S. Navy.—The drone flight from Hazlewood has been incorrectly reported in over half the newspapers and magazines which carried the story of this event.

Hazelwood was operating about ten miles off Newport on 16 June 1960, in heavy fog, with visibility reduced to 100 feet. We were conducting tests with an HTK-1 helicopter which carried a safety pilot but was outfitted for drone operation. Drone operation is re­mote control flying and the control may be either from a shore base or a ship.

During the tests, a seaman fell in the ship- fitter shop and cut his right thigh. The cut was very deep and loss of blood could not be stopped with Hazelwood’s sick-bay facilities. If the seaman’s life was to be saved, quick transfer to a hospital was necessary.

The thickness of the fog prevented the ship from steaming into Newport’s congested harbor and likewise prevented a routine flight of the helicopter. The helicopter pilot loaded the injured seaman into his aircraft and took off, only to find that the fog hemmed him in. He was forced to return to the destroyer and land. The ship’s helicopter controller then suggested he could drone control the heli­copter through the fog to shore, using his remote controls and radar in the ship’s CIC.

The helicopter took off again and was drone controlled to within 100 yards of a landing point at the Underwater Ordnance Station, Naval Base, Newport. The pilot had control only when taking off and while landing.

"Up from Ashes—The Saga of Cassin and Downes”

(See pages 33-41, January 1961 Proceedings)

Lieutenant David E. Swan, U. S. Naval Reserve.—Though devoted to Cassin and Downes, this article mentioned their sister

ship, the Mahan-class destroyer Shaw, which also was in drydock during the Pearl Harbor attack and had her bow blown off. A jury bow was fitted, and she proceeded under her own power to Mare Island, where a new bow was obtained and attached. She then re­turned to action.

The previous Shaw, a four-stacker of 1916 vintage, in which this correspondent’s father served, had a remarkably similar fate while attached to the Queenstown Patrol in World War I. On 9 October 1918, she collided with S.S. Aquitania, which she was escorting, and 12 men were killed. Shaw lost her bow, but made Portland, England, under her own power, then proceeded 160 miles at 11 knots to Portsmouth Dockyard, where a jury bow was fitted. She then steamed to Brest, where a permanent bow was built and attached.

"Reappraisal Is Not So Agonizing” and "A Modern Navy for Modern Defense”

(See pages 52-61, November 1960 Proceedings)

Commander Roy C. Smith, III, U. S. Naval Reserve.—One of these two related articles argues for more specialists and the other for a continuation of the present com­promise between generalists and specialists. Both recognize the need for more specialists and the problems of career planning for the sub-specialist general line officer, but they propose different solutions to the problem. Yet the industrial and service approaches cited in these articles need not be so far apart.

General Electric, for example, hires grad­uate engineers and runs them through a two- year training course, six months in each of the four major engineering fields with the last one in the new graduate’s college field. At the end of the two years, the new engineer has had a fairly broad background and is given his choice of which field to stay in as a specialty. He nearly always chooses another type of en­gineering from that he studied in college. From then on he stays in his specialty, but with sufficient basic understanding and con­tacts to keep abreast of developments in the others, until tapped for executive administra­tion.

The Royal Navy gives its midshipmen and sub-lieutenants a fairly broad coverage of de­partmental duties before putting them into

specialties. Those officers who go into Gun­nery, ASW, CIC/Air Defense, Navigation, Communications, etc., are still unrestricted line officers fully eligible for command at sea; they spend all their sea tours and much shore duty in their specialties, but are not handi­capped in moving on to command. The path leads from division officer to department head to executive officer in an ascending ladder of experience and responsibility, not necessarily across several departments. It cannot truly be said that this system does not work.

We must face the fact that time no longer permits an unrestricted line officer to serve in all departments of a ship long enough, with appropriate training courses, to acquire semi­specialized knowledge of all, as in prewar days. On the other hand, the unrestricted line officer who becomes a specialist through training and postgraduate courses accepts a risk that his ultimate career pattern may be a handicap in promotion to higher ranks. Fur­ther, the cost of training an officer for ASW in one tour and for Air Defense or something else in another is too expensive, and that sys­tem does not provide us with an adequate level of skill in either.

The proper answer is to preserve the unre­stricted line officer for the ultimate specialty of command, but to give him a sub-specialty in his middle years. Like General Electric, we can rotate the new ensign and lieutenant (jg) through the departments of his first ship(s), using short functional training courses as necessary to teach him to perform his duties. He will still have to qualify as an officer of the deck underway and probably as a command duty officer in port, which quali­fications will provide the over-all view needed to tie his departmental experiences together. At about four years he should be assigned to a career specialty as in the Royal Navy, and his future duties should as far as possible be in that field until he becomes executive or com­manding officer. There must, however, be no discrimination between specialties or against these specialists either by detailers or selection boards; these officers must have equal op­portunity for choice jobs and for continued promotion.

Assignment to a career specialty should be followed by postgraduate courses as a lieu­tenant and the present postgraduate pattern continued. Administrative and executive training will follow normally through more responsible jobs afloat and ashore, leading eventually to the higher level staff and war colleges. Correspondence courses outside the specialty should be encouraged or in some cases required; since the officer will not be having to learn a new field when he goes to a new job, he should have more time available for outside study. Equally important will be the improvement in levels of skill in special­ized fields, continuity of those levels when officers are relieved, and an appreciable re­duction in the present cost of training people for a one-time job.

We can no longer expect a destroyer cap­tain to be an expert in every department of his ship; it is enough that he be expert in one and reasonably familiar with the others so as to understand their problems and to make correct decisions. We must, however, acquire a much higher level of skill in the technology of the department heads and their assistants. This can be done only by sub-specialization. Certainly it should not be too difficult to ad­just our thinking to marry these two concepts of administration and training.

Lieutentant Harold H. Sacks, U. S. Navy.—Lieutenant Leis, whose own career pattern appears to have been that of the gen­eralist, has stated the case for specialization in the most painless manner yet. If I under­stand correctly, he has reaffirmed the validity of the concept of generalization, but con­cluded that for better or worse the present needs of the service demand more specializa­tion, and that these needs are immediate and must Lie served, even if at the expense of traditional concepts. The correctness of this view would appear so obvious as to require no comment, but a few points remain un­clear and a few questions remain unasked.

First, why have we waited so long to accept and deal with what is apparently the in­evitable? Why were so many knowledgeable people so blind to the need for specialists? Until two years ago, I was advised by su­periors that I was embarked on a very high potential career pattern, with solid grounding in Gunnery and Operations in large and small combatant types. I was told that “the spe­cialist knows more and more about less and less until, just on the verge of promotion, he is disqualified.” I, and hundreds of my con­temporaries, resolved to learn more and more about more and more, for the good of our careers and the good of the service, and all this with the blessings of those who should have known better. A fellow lieutenant, who has spent eight of ten years’ service at sea, was recently informed, upon applying for ad­mission into the surface nuclear program, that he was a good engineer, but a little too old to be of much use. Too old at 31?

Second, optimistic as I would like to be about the compromise suggested by Lieu­tenant Leis, it seems that the problem of squeezing so much learning and doing into 30 years is much worse than he imagines. The creeping evolution of the 20-year career pat­tern is so much with us that to think in terms of 30 years seems almost old fashioned. No wonder my colleague was too old at 31. His career was half over and he didn’t know it!

What are some other solutions? One which comes to mind at the moment is the rapid expansion of present pilot programs which send selected Naval Academy graduates on to postgraduate school before they go to sea. Despite the horror expressed by some at the thought of a newly commissioned officer going anywhere but to sea, an expanded program of this sort is one of the most hopeful measures to be taken. At least 20 per cent of each graduating class should be slated for post­graduate work upon graduation. Doubtless a significant percentage could easily proceed to postgraduate school after three years at the Naval Academy, provided they were part of an accelerated program for gifted midship­men, selected after perhaps the first year. This schedule would enable the graduates to get down to the business of going to sea in ships not long after their contemporaries. But this, and similar programs, must eventually lead to a schism between the highly-educated spe­cialist and the sea-going officer, whose erudi­tion is less tangible, but equally necessary to the well-being of the Navy.

"Torpedo Rafts”

(See pages 154-155, September 1960 Proceedings and pages 162-163, October 1960 Proceedings)

Arthur M. Wilcox, Charleston, South

Carolina.—Accurate descriptions by Con­federate officers of the Federal torpedo rafts, like that reported on by Mr. Sydney Jack­man in “The Federal Navy’s Missing Raft,” are contained in the Official Records. It would be interesting to see how they compare with the wreckage on the beach at Dolly’s Bay, Bermuda.

Naval officers who read Mr. Jackman’s story ought to know that the raft is a memento of an occasion upon which U. S. officers, dis­tinguished for their bravery and competence, allowed themselves to be talked out of a vic­tory.

The torpedo rafts were designed by John Ericsson, Monitor's builder, to cope with Con­federate “torpedoes” (mines) in Charleston Harbor. They were a primitive form of mine­sweeping gear. They were also clumsy and worthless items of equipment which proved a dangerous encumbrance to the Fleet at a criti­cal moment.

Mr. Jackman’s article leaves the impression that the torpedo rafts were never used for

their designed purpose, but at least one of them was. USS Weehawken carried one into Charleston Harbor on 7 April 1863, on the occasion of one of the great naval ironclad attacks against that important Southern harbor.

Mr. Jackman describes the rafts as having “two heavy arms” and a wedge-shaped sec­tion at the other end. Actually they were shaped like giant bootjacks.

The angle between the arms was intended to receive the bow of the vessel assigned to push the contraption into enemy waters. The raft assigned to Weehawken was responsible for delaying the whole Federal force of nine ves­sels when it attempted to get under way on 7 April to achieve the much-desired penetra­tion of Charleston Harbor. It fouled Wee- hawken's anchor cable.

Despite the difficulties of maneuvering his ship with her clumsy false prow, Captain John Rodgers managed to push the raft as far as a line of beer barrels the Confederates had anchored in the vicinity of Fort Sumter. At that point, Captain Rodgers reported, he encountered a mine and blew one up with his minesweeping raft.

The evidence is strong, however, that there were no mines, at least not where Cap­tain Rodgers said he found them. What the Federal Navy, on the basis of faulty intelli­gence and ingenuous trust in enemy propa­ganda, took to be mines and obstructions placed across the main ship channel, were really nothing more than the aforementioned beer barrels with a few strands of rope at­tached. The Confederates thought they might entangle the screws of warships.

“There were positively no torpedoes among them,” said Captain John Johnson, the Con­federate engineer at Sumter, “and there was, moreover, an opening three hundred yards wide between them and Fort Sumter entirely clear of all obstructions.”

Nevertheless, Captain Rodgers, Admiral DuPont, and many other Federal officers talked themselves into believing that mines were there. As Weehawken approached the beer barrels, her captain hesitated. Then, as the monitor backed and filled, the Federal line fell into confusion right under the guns of Sumter. It never did regain formation or direction and, as a result, the battle was lost.

At some point during the fighting, Wee­hawken cut loose her raft and it drifted onto the beach at Morris Island, a few hundred yards away. The Confederate engineer who later inspected it there took note of its mas­sive construction. He reported:

It consists of two layers of white pine timbers eighteen inches square bolted together; a reenter­ing angle 20 feet deep to receive the bow of the vessel; fifty feet long, 27 wide; a layer of beveled timbers on the front forming a bow; seven heavy iron plates through which passed chains directly down and over the sides through hawser pipes.

To these were attached grappling irons with double prongs; suspended underneath the sides and bow in the countersinks of the plates were loose iron rollers apparently to facilitate the draw­ing of the chains through the holes when the grapplings took hold.

Why were the Federals willing to encumber themselves at a critical moment with such un­wieldy burdens? Newspaper reports, alarmist talk from back home, and idle chatter in the wardrooms all contributed a share to a de­featist viewpoint which prevailed in the Fed­eral force off Charleston. A well-considered estimate of the situation might have changed the picture entirely.

E. B. Canfield, Pittsfield, Massachusetts. —I have read Mr. Jackman’s article with considerable pleasure. Perhaps a little more of the story of the raft may be of interest.

In early 1863, Admiral DuPont and his monitors were preparing for their ill-fated at­tack on Charleston. The Navy Department was anxious for the success of their new moni­tors and knew that Charleston Harbor was well filled with torpedoes and other obstruc­tions. Therefore, John Ericsson was asked to design a device to protect the monitors and at the same time permit them to clear the chan­nels. Ericsson’s answer was the “torpedo raft.” Made of two layers of 18-inch square white pine timbers, the raft was approxi­mately 50 feet long and 27 feet wide. A 20- foot deep V notch was cut into one end to receive the bow of a monitor. On the other end, two booms supported a torpedo about 13 feet below the surface, although the depth was adjustable. The draft of the Passaic-c\ass monitors in use at Charleston varied from 11 feet 6 inches to 12 feet. The torpedo which was to blow up the obstructions was approxi­mately 23 feet long and 10 inches in diameter, containing 600 to 700 pounds of powder. Air chambers were mounted ahead of the tor­pedo, supposedly to direct the force of the explosion. Ahead of the air chambers and extending the width of the raft was the trigger board, which, when pushed against an ob­struction, would set off the explosion. The weight of the raft is estimated at 70 tons, al­though figures as high as 90 tons may be found.

For the 7 April attack against the forts, Chief Engineer Alban C. Stimers recom­mended that two of the monitors be equipped with rafts complete with torpedoes and grap­nel hooks. However, this recommendation was not carried out. Weehawken’s Captain John Rodgers, and others felt it would be unwise to arm the rafts with the torpedoes because of the possible danger of coming into contact with other ships. Rodgers pointed out that “the anticipation was not ill-founded. Two ironclads actually came into collision with the Ironsides and she had to stop to avoid the Weehawken.” Weehawken, the lead vessel, did carry a raft into battle; however, it was equipped only with grapnels. Rodgers took his ship close to the obstructions extending from Fort Sumter to Fort Moultrie but did not run upon them for fear of entangling the ship. Here, perhaps, the torpedo might have helped.

But it was while at anchor that the damage was done, “ . . . the sea converted the raft into a huge battering ram. ... Its motions did not at all correspond with [the] motions of the vessel. The raft rose while the vessel fell, and the reverse. It was a source of ap­prehension lest it should get upon the deck or under the overhang.” In addition, some of the lashings had broken in crossing the bar. After the raft had started some of the 5-inch bow armor, it was cut adrift to be captured by the Confederates as it drifted ashore on Morris Island.

Later, Rodgers offered to blow up the sunken Keokuk with an armed raft but rough water, combined with 24-inch-long ringbolts pulling out of the raft, thwarted the attempt.

Early in November 1863, further experi­ments were made, and on the sixth try one of the torpedoes was exploded to show its effect on a monitor. Patapsco pushed the raft at 3 or 3J knots in deep water, and when the sub­merged torpedo exploded, the shock was hardly felt aboard ship. However, the water was thrown 40 or 50 feet in the air and the forward end of the raft was raised about two feet but fell back undamaged.

At that time three rafts were available, and both Commander T. H. Stevens, Patapsco’s Captain, and T. J. Griffin, Assistant Inspector of Ironclads, who had together carried out the experiment, felt the device would be effective for removing and destroying obstructions. Further enthusiasm was not apparent, how­ever, and this invention appears to be one of a very few of John Ericsson’s which was not completely successful.

"USS Dunderberg—Old Thundering Mountain”

(See page 825, July 1955 Proceedings and pages 158-159, November 1960 Proceedings)

Rear Admiral John D. Hayes, U. S. Navy, (Retired).-—Dunderberg was built by the fa­mous New York shipbuilder, William H. Webb, but the design, I believe, was that of John Lenthall, Chief Constructor of the Navy. Lenthall was the last of a long line of out­standing American builders of wooden ships and the man who gave the Navy such fine ships as Wabash, Hartford, and the 90-day gunboats of the Civil War. Dunderberg was his only ironclad ship. Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles, in his Diary, does not state specifically that her design was Lenthall’s, but he does state that Lenthall vetoed mount­ing her guns in revolving turrets of the moni­tor design and insisted they be in casemates like those in Merrimack.

Admiral S. F. DuPont does make it fairly certain that Dunderberg was Lenthall’s design. In a letter to Secretary James W. Grimes of the Naval Affairs Committee, Du Pont recom­mends that Lenthall be confirmed in his reap­pointment as Chief Constructor and writes: “I left him the other day at work on the draft of an iron ship which will leave the Warriors and La Gloires out of sight—-just as his Wabashes, Minnesotas and Merrimacks were in advance of their class the world over.”

Lenthall had been left out of most of the Civil War ironclad shipbuilding operations,

ft

which were run by Assistant Secretary Fox, Chief Engineer Stimers, and most important of all, John Ericsson. In a sense, he brought this exclusion on himself, for at first he wanted little to do with an ironclad program. “Some of these young, smart, modern improvement, spirit of the age fellows should take hold of it,” he wrote DuPont, when the latter sug­gested that one of the sloops of war authorized by Congress in February 1861 be plated with iron.

Secretary Welles tells us in his Diary that he recommended the disposal of Dunderberg over the protests of Secretary of State Seward and Secretary of War Stanton. Seward was con­cerned that she might go to France, the coun­try that had taken advantage of the Civil War to get a foothold in Mexico. Stanton thought that even with her green timbers behind her armor, Dunderberg, together with Ironsides— which had proved herself in the war as no other monitor had—would be excellent deter­rents against the naval ambitions of the two major power's in Europe.

Naval officers, led by David Dixon Porter, were resentful that despite millions of dollars spent by the Navy Department during the war, there was hardly a vessel on the Navy list suitable to challenge the navies of England or France.

Without wanting to appear to be pedantic, may I point out that Dunderberg was never commissioned in the U. S. Navy and there­fore was never “USS.”

Captain Richards T. Miller, U. S. Navy. —In Lieutenant Colonel Rankin’s fine article, the unspecified builder of Dunderberg was Wil­liam H. Webb, a most successful New York shipbuilder, who left his entire fortune (some of which was gained through his astute han­dling of Dunderberg after the U. S. Navy de­cided she no longer was needed in the forces of that day) to Webb Institute of Naval Architecture, located in New York City. The school was founded by Mr. Webb several years before his death to fill a national need he had long recognized as a shipbuilder—a school of naval architecture.

Today nearly one-half of the civilian per­sonnel in the Preliminary Design Branch of the Bureau of Ships, as well as some of the engineering duty officers who also actively participate in the design work, are graduates of this school.

Paul Augustin-Normand, Le Havre-Ble- ville, Seine Maritime, France.—On page 158 we read, “The first seagoing armored warship was La Gloire, launched by France in 1859. This was the wooden steam warship Napoleon rebuilt to carry armor plate.” We also read that Warrior of Great Britain, launched in 1860, “was the first vessel laid down as a sea­going armored warship.”

These few lines contain two errors, the second of which is a consequence of the first. The fast ship of the line, Napoleon, and the armored frigate, La Gloire, both conceived by Dupuy de Lome, were two different vessels. The first, launched in 1850, was condemned in 1876; the second, launched in 1859, was condemned in 1879. The only connection be­tween them was that La Gloire's design was established from that of Napoleon, one of whose batteries was put ashore to eliminate the weight necessary for adding the armor plate. La Gloire, then, was designed and built origi­nally as an armored vessel. “The first vessel laid down as a seagoing armored warship,” accordingly, was La Gloire and not Warrior.

Contemporary American Cargo Ship Construction

Captain E. B. Perry, U. S. Navy (Retired). —Much has been said about the dearth of new construction for our Merchant Marine. While the enforced replacement of ships at age 20 years has been slowed down to re­placement at age 25 years, our new construc­tion program is far from discouraging. As of November 1960, 65 vessels were under con­tract—13 tankers and 52 dry cargo vessels. Of the dry cargo vessels, 51 are for the accounts of 11 subsidized operators, seven of whom are domiciled on the East and Gulf Coasts and four on the West Coast. One vessel, the nu­clear-powered, combination-type Savannah, is being built as an experimental vessel for the U. S. government. Thirty-seven dry cargo vessels are being constructed on the East and Gulf Coasts and 15 on the West Coast. East and Gulf Coast owners have committed them­selves to 40 vessels, and the West Coast owners to a total of 11 ships. It is interesting to note the average characteristics of the dry cargo

Table of Average Characteristics

	Owners
	East and Gulf Coasts		Government	West Coast
Types	Freight	Combination	Nuclear	Freight
No. ships	37	3	1	11
Length O.A.	510'	545'	587'	569'
Beam	71'	79'	78'	76'
Gross tons	9,800	14,100	10,190	10,500
D.W. tons	11,200	7,790	13,400	14,000
Horsepower	13,700	18,000	22,000	19,700
Speed	18.1	20	20	20

vessels under contract, particularly so in the light of the areas in which they are to serve.

The 13 tankers total 680,600 deadweight tons, ranging from 16,600 to 106,500 dead­weight tons per vessel. All ships, except for the experimental Savannah, are powered with conventional turbine plants. Seven of the East and Gulf Coast freighters are of the “engines aft” design. The three combination vessels being built for private ownership are being fitted for the carriage of container cargo.

There has been no tendency toward sub­mersible or semi-submersible types of vessels, ships floating on a blanket of trained air bubbles, nor ships of the hydrofoil type. The Maritime Administration is having con­structed a very small vessel of hydrofoil de­sign, but she cannot be classed as a cargo carrier. Nuclear-powered ships are generally accepted as a possibility of the future after many of the problems associated with such powering for merchant vessels shall have been solved. Some of our foreign-flag competitors have indicated that the more moderately sized and powered merchant vessels will prove to be better investments than larger and faster ships. As to our own construction, the owners have found it wise to build moder­ately sized ships for the shorter hauls with no more speed than is required by the Maritime Administration; for longer voyages, such as transpacific trips, ships of somewhat larger sizes and greater speeds are being constructed.

Recovery of Towing Wire Without Towing Winch

Lieutenant Robert B. Cress, U. S. Navy.

—Perhaps some reader can evaluate the fol­lowing method of recovering a towing wire without benefit of winch, and advise if the method has been used and if it can be im­proved upon.

Pass a mooring line from the capstan through the bull nose and lead it aft along the side of the ship to the stern. This line can be stopped off at intervals along the life lines to keep it out of the water. If one mooring line is not long enough to reach from the capstan to the stern chock, two mooring lines can be long-spliced together to provide sufficient length.

Upon completion of towing and after the tow has let go the towing wire, lead the above mentioned mooring line onto the fantail through the stern chock and bend it to the towing wire near the eye in the end of the wire with a rolling hitch. Then cast off the towing wire and ease wire and mooring line into the water clear of the ship’s rudders and propellers. This is done, of course, with the screws stopped.

The capstan crew can then heave around on the mooring line and the ship can be worked around with the engines to keep the mooring line and towing wire leading directly into the bull nose and onto the capstan head. The weight of the towing wire will keep the propellers and rudder from being fouled while working the ship around.

When the outboard end of the mooring line has been recovered, unbend the mooring line from the towing wire and take the wire to the capstan head. Passing the wire around the capstan head will not cause it to kink.

Personnel can be stationed along the deck from the capstan to the towing wire reel to handle the wire and prevent it from dragging along the deck.

This method of recovery will alleviate the problem of physically hauling a long towing wire on board; it reduces appreciably the time for recovery, since the rigging of the mooring line from the capstan to the stern can be accomplished while towing. Also, the mooring line and towing wire can be heaved in at high speed, thereby avoiding leaving the towing vessel at the mercy of the sea and other vessels while recovering her wire, as the en­gines and rudders can be used for limited maneuvering after letting go the towing wire from the fantail.

1789 Origin of U. S. Coast Guard?

Thomas French Norton, Easton, Mary­land.—Fred C. Peters, Collector of Customs for the Port of Philadelphia, has unearthed some documents which may lead historians to revise their notions on the age and origin of the U. S. Coast Guard.

Nearly all historians agree that the mari­time arm of the Treasury Department came into being in 1790, when Congress au­thorized the construction of ten cutters at the urgent behest of Alexander Hamilton, first Secretary of the Treasury. But Peters says documents in his possession reveal that Philadelphia had a Coast Guard vessel plying the Delaware River as early as 1789. The documents are copies of an exchange of letters between Hamilton and Philadelphia’s first Collector of Customs, Colonel Sharp Delaney. Peters is persuaded that the Coast Guard, like the U. S. Marine Corps, owes its origin to the Port of Philadelphia.

On 2 October 1789, Peters explains, Hamil­ton sent a form letter to his collectors of cus­toms asking for their views on ways and means of combatting smugglers. Delaney replied on 31 October, asserting that a fleet of revenue boats was “essentially necessary.” Noting that some smuggling was going on, “espe­cially in coffee which is an article easillyrun,” Delaney informed Hamilton:

In consequence I procured a barge with sails etc., and kept her constantly plying between this port and Newcastle with directions to board every vessel and receive their manifests, and place an officer on board. I have kept it going day and night, and directed the officer to board the river craft and inform them of his duty.

In 1790, Hamilton wrote again to Delaney, informing the Collector of Customs that Con­gress had acted favorably on a bill to set up a coast guard. The Treasury secretary wrote:

The establishment of the Custom House boats you are informed, under the confederation of Congress has been passed this time. But the circumstances which led to the temporary ar­rangement in your district appear still to be of so useful weight, as to induce a continuance of the measure until the proposed establishment shall be completed.

It wasn’t until 1791 that the cutters were ready for service. It appears from the corre­spondence that Colonel Delaney’s barge, which was in use on the Delaware in August or September of 1789, was the first such vessel used in the U. S. Revenue Marine Service, and that the Coast Guard is, in fact, a direct descendent of Collector Delaney’s revenue en­forcement boat. If so, the date of the founding of this service is not 1790 as long supposed, but rather 1789, when this small but duly authorized boat was first put into use.

“Thoughts on Japan’s Naval Defeat”

(See pages 68-75, October 1960 Proceedings)

Robert Casari, Chillicothe, Ohio.—Rear Admiral Toshiyuki Yokoi’s article is excel­lently done and provides additional under­standing of Japanese strategy of the last war. Their side of the four-year struggle has, as yet, only been touched on in English publica- dons,Heaving a great gap which I hope the Naval Institute will continue to narrow.

However, may I comment on the Admiral’s reference to the Shanghai Incident of 1937? This period, which marked the renaissance of Japanese naval aviation, saw the arrival of the Type-96 bomber (G3M Nell) with enough range to permit bombing of the Chinese mainland from Formosa and Japan. The Zero fighter, however, was not a contem­porary design, being introduced four years later in the summer of 1940. While tremen­dously effective, it does not deserve credit for awakening interest in naval aviation during that early period.

More correctly, the Type-96 carrier-based fighter (A5M Claude), which entered service with the Nell, made a more significant con­tribution during the late 1930’s, if any one design were to be selected. Its success equalled that of the Zero and must have had consider­able bearing on the inclusion of the three carriers in the 1938 and 1939 programs. The decimation of the Chinese Air Force in 1937 certainly awakened naval aviators to the power of carrier-based designs and the fight­ing potential of the carrier. The Nell, of course, was land-based.

Fleet Admirals

(See page 1159, October 1955 Proceedings)

D. R. Overall-Hatswell, Encino, Cali­fornia.—Some remarks by me on the rank of Fleet Admiral were published in the Pro­ceedings in 1955. At the time, the rank was entitled to a 17-gun salute and therefore did not rank with, but after, a British Admiral of the Fleet, who is entitled to a salute of 19 guns.

Receipt of Change No. 9 to Navy Regula­tions, 1948 prompted me to review this sub­ject, and it was with interest that I noted that this matter finally had been rectified. Change No. 8, promulgated on 10 October 1958, eliminated the wording, “Admiral of the Navy, or General of the Armies . . . Gun Salute 19,” but the Fleet Admiral or General of the Army was not given the 19-gun salute. Change No. 9, however, promulgated on 1 March 1960, authorized the 19-gun salute to a General of the Army, Fleet Admiral, or General of the Air Force, and these officers now can take their places with Field Mar­shals, Admirals of the Fleet, and Marshals of the Royal Air Force, their British counter­parts.

"Is the Versatile Line Officer Obsolete?”

(See pages 27-34, June 1959 Proceedings, pages 100­101, December 1959 Proceedings, and page 97, Feb­ruary 1960 Proceedings)

Lieutentant Commander J. C. Fry, U. S. Navy.—This is a question that cannot be an­swered without making assumptions that may not be justified. Despite numerous arguments that have been presented to support individ­ual points of view, all conclusions must be regarded merely as opinions. Captains Brink- loe and Clark have expressed widely divergent opinions on this question, and their conclusions are of interest because they are so different. Briefly stating their respective views, the former proposed that science-age technology may have made obsolete the Knox-King-Pye concept of the versatile line officer, which consequently requires a greater degree of of­ficer specialization. The latter argued that the line officer with a basic education, trained on the job in ships and on staffs, is capable of understanding the purposes and limitations of new devices and weapons, and will ably meet the challenge of the future. Since these views are not consistent and represent perhaps two limits, it is reasonable to suggest that the an­swer probably lies somewhere between them. This has been plainly recognized, since our present policies reflect this middle course.

The distribution by educational level of unrestricted and restricted USN line officers in 1959 (Cook Committee Report, 17 July 1959) shows about where we stand now; its value in interpreting the two viewpoints is limited, but three features should be noticed in passing: (1) the majority of unrestricted line officers has completed an undergraduate education (the mean educational level is lower, however, than it has ever been), (2) a smaller, but not trivial, number of naval officers has completed less than an under­graduate education, and (3) more unre­stricted than restricted line officers have com­pleted graduate courses, although the num­ber in both cases is small.

A broad interpretation of this distribution was given by Captain Kelly (December 1959) when he stated: “There is no such thing as a typical officer in today’s Navy. Each officer has his own unique combination of educa­tional background and professional experi­ence.” This is about all that can be said in a general way but, more specifically, the low mean educational level and the small num­bers of graduate-trained officers have caused some concern, as indicated by Captain Brinkloe. The Cook Board has studied the implication of these facts, and one conclusion of that Board was that an unprecedented ex­pansion in the graduate education program is required. Evidence justifying such a conclu­sion is the upward trend of new requirements for graduate-educated officers, which showed a 33 per cent increase between 1956 and 1959. Such a trend might be expected when one considers the novel developments that have occurred within the Navy during this period.

The subsequent assignment of officers com­pleting graduate programs has evidently been less intensively studied. Although Captain Kelly suggested that the Knox-King-Pye con­cept should be retained, there are possibly two reasons why this concept is less applicable today than when it was formulated in 1919.

The 1,000 per cent increase in the line strength of the Navy since the mid-Twenties should now permit a greater flexibility in the assignment of officers. The so-called pay­back plan inherently requires the training of roughly twice the number of officers needed for a specific assignment. Second, the ap­plication of the results of research and devel­opment programs to improve naval capabili­ties not only requires specialization, but a greater degree of specialization than before, which may’not be possible under the Knox- King-Pye concept.

One of the significant challenges to the fine officer today is the changing of tactics to re­flect the impact of ingenious new weapon systems. Although the importance of a single weapon system is generally understood, knowledge of the interrelation of two or more weapon systems, detection systems, surveil­lance systems, or combinations of these has been gained only slowly. The discrimination necessary for this, as well as the orientation of current development programs to fill in evi­dent gaps, implies a greater depth of special­ization than that considered necessary by Captain Clark. The ability to specialize is es­sential, if the naval officer is to lead rather than to merely follow these developments.

In the 1960 Tizard Memorial Lecture, de­livered before the Institute for Strategic Studies, Professor P. M. S. Blackett remarked, “This experiment (the analysis of radar data on approaching aircraft in England, 1936) seems to have been the first official recogni­tion that the operations of modern war are so complicated and change so fast that the tradi­tional training of officers and personnel is in­adequate.” While this remark is not identi­cally applicable in the U. S. Navy today, it is partly so, and it emphasizes an important point: it is clearly not possible to educate all line officers in the very many scientific and applied fields that are integrated within our complex naval organization. Here we must choose in the assignment of line officers be­tween logic and expediency. The a priori as­sumption that the line officer has the requisite qualifications for all line assignments within his rank structure is no longer valid. A reasonable goal therefore would be the efficient utiliza­tion of officers in line assignments, and con­sidering the size and complexity of the naval organization, apparent progress has recently been made. It should be noted, however, that the graduate program proposed to prepare officers for certain of these assignments is based upon the concept of superposition of specialties onto well-rounded line careers, in­troduced in the Navy following recommenda­tions by the Knox-King-Pye Board in 1919. At a time when depth of specialization has become considerably more important, the basis for this concept appears to be less sound and its validity, in present circumstances, questionable.

In this indefinite period of cold war there has been apparent in the Navy an increasing awareness of the importance of progress as a major objective. The brilliant success we have achieved in several naval programs, immeas­urably contributing to naval and national power, has naturally accelerated our pursuit of progress on a very much larger scale. Two consequences of these successes may be impor­tant: (1) the responsibility of specialists in contributing to the strength of the Navy is today commensurable with that of the line officers, (2) it is not entirely satisfactory to consider the fine officer merely as the cus­tomer for new products; somehow one would expect the line officer to have a closer associ- tion with the direction of our progress. This is the crux of the fine officer concept and it is here that the significance of specialization is apparent; failing to recognize this, it is here, if anywhere, that the line officer concept will fail.

"The Man Who Hid the Cruiser Dresden”

(See pages 61-66, July 1960 Proceedings)

Desmond Wettern, Surrey, England.—In this very interesting article, Mr. Baarslag makes one point which appears open to con­tention. On page 63, he suggests that had von Spee’s squadron not wasted time by taking coal from the British bark, Dunmuir, the Ger­mans could have seized the Falkland Islands against only “token opposition,” thus ac­quiring an excellent base from which to attack British trade. Would this have been the case?

When Rear Admiral Cradock was search­ing for von Spee before the Battle of Coronel, the Admiralty had sent out the old battleship Canopus to reinforce him. Cradock considered that with her speed of about 14 knots, the battleship was only suitable to protect his colliers. At the time of the Coronel action, Canopus was some 300 miles away. Immedi­ately after receiving from Glasgow the news of the loss of Monmouth and Good Hope, Canopus and Glasgow proceeded to Port Stanley, a likely German objective. Soon Glasgow left for Rio de Janeiro to effect repairs.

At Port Stanley, an observation post was set up ashore to watch for the German squad­ron. Canopus was partially grounded with her guns trained to provide the widest possible arc of fire. When the German squadron was spotted on the morning of 8 December, Canopus was not visible to the Germans, and her opening fire with 12-inch guns surprised von Spee.

Even if the British battle cruisers Invincible and Inflexible had not also been present, there seems little doubt to this correspondent that von Spee would have found the old battle­ship a tough nut to crack. Canopus was well armored and her main armament easily out­ranged the ordnance of the German cruisers.

"Seagoing Coast-Line Battleship Iowa”

(See page 153, February 1960 Proceedings and page 108, November 1960 Proceedings)

Leonard Opdycke, Boston, Massachu­setts.—Rear Admiral Williams adds interest­ing material to Lieutenant Colonel Rankin’s previous article. When Admiral Williams doubts that Admiral Sampson ever hoisted his flag in Iowa, he overlooks the occasion when Sampson took what today would be called a task force on an easterly voyage to Puerto Rico on the chance that the Spanish squadron might be located at San Juan. Rear

Admiral F. E. Chadwick’s book, The Rela­tions of the United States and Spain, The Spamsh- American War, Volume I, page 225, discusses this point.

Colonel Rankin also is slightly in error when he speaks of Iowa as “laid down as hull number BB-4, built by William Cramp and Sons of Philadelphia.” This vessel was au­thorized by Act of Congress on 19 July 1892 as “one sea-going coast-line battleship.” Designation of battleship by numbers begins to appear in the Annual Report of the Secretary of the Navy, 1897. The “BB” system dates only from an order of 17 July 1920. A hull number is properly the builder’s yard number. Iowa bore the number 276 in the series of hulls constructed by William Cramp and Sons.

"The Back-Down Approach”

(See pages 128-130, December 1959 Proceedings, pages 153-154, April 1960 Proceedings, and pages 115-116, August 1960 Proceedings)

Lieutenant Commander J. A. Moffett, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired).—As a de­stroyer escort skipper during World War II, I had ample occasion not only to refuel at sea, but also to observe others refuel. Here is an approach method which requires less time for replenishment than either the conventional method or the back-down approach.

Upon receiving the signal to prepare to fuel, station the destroyer about one point forward of the beam of the ship then along­side the tanker. While in this position you can pace the tanker and stay well clear of the wake of both ships. When the ship fueling is finished, she should drop back, permitting the next ship to close in with a minimum of course alteration and, if the maneuvering board is carefully adhered to, no change in speed.

By carrying out the maneuver in the fore­going manner, the ship can be brought to fueling position in a minimum of time and with a minimum of maneuvering. Further, all wakes are avoided, and the ship will settle down almost immediately and lessen the difficulty of handling fueling hose.

In conclusion, it is suggested that this is the most seamanlike approach to a difficult prob­lem and avoids hazarding both vessels by radical maneuvering, which actually takes longer than the beam approach. If the re­plenished vessel drops astern before increas­ing speed, wake is minimized at a time when the on-coming fueling vessel requires steady conning.

"Navigation with EarmufFs”

(See pages 137-138, May 1960 Proceedings and pages 106-107, October 1960 Proceedings)

Lieutenant (jg) J. A. Schmidt, U. S. Naval Reserve.—Several suggestions have been ad­vanced on these pages to aid mariners in determining the intentions of another ship in a passing or crossing situation. While many of these, such as special radar beacons that would furnish specific information, radios connected to tape recorders, radiophones, and lights coupled to the steam whistle, seem to offer some solution, they are all costly and complicated and generally well beyond the means of private boat and ship owners. If they cannot be universally adopted they will not solve any problems; indeed, they may even create additional ones.

The most practical suggestion to date, and the one which would probably appeal almost universally to ship and boat owners, is the use of a light in conjunction with whistle signals to indicate intentions. This single light (white, showing through 360 degrees, coupled to the whistle) can present some problems, however. The main one would be the confusion result­ing from a watch officer seeing only part of the light signal but hearing the total whistle sig­nal. Since this signal is connected directly to the whistle, it follows that its period of illu­mination will be only as long as that of the whistle signal itself, and this, by law, is brief. To enable the conning officer to ascertain the intent of another ship’s conning officer after the signal has been sounded appears to be a definite requirement.

An alternate suggestion for the use of lights would be to employ two lamps, one red, the other green, both of high intensity, mounted below the masthead light, and visible for­ward of the beam. When a passing situation arose, the ship originating the signal would illuminate one of these lights, for example, the red, for a port-to-port passing, and leave it illuminated until the other ship showed the same color lamp, thus indicating acknowledg­ment of the signal. Both lights could be left on until the ships passed, thus giving the watch officer a continuous indication of the other’s intention. An optional installation might require the originating ship to flash the lamp until the second ship responded, then switch the light to a steady glow. In this operation, the original signal would attract more attention.

Several advantages would accompany this type of installation. First, it would be visible in daylight, thus assuring positive indication of intent. Second, it would demand a response of a lamp of the same color, thus eliminating the need for aural exchanges. Third, being visible to all ships forward of the beam of those showing the lights, it would be an indication of their intentions to all other ships in the area, which would prove valuable in harbors and crowded channel situations. Fourth, at night it would prove much more positive than whistle signals or the sighting of steam plumes. This also would apply to situations of poor visibility, as one could be almost certain of seeing the light if he could see the ship, whereas a cloud of steam might be all but invisible in fog or rain. Fifth, the signal could easily be held until a response was obtained. This would eliminate the necessity for re­peated blasts on a whistle, which consume precious time and create more confusion than they cure. Sixth, it would be unmistakable. Green is green and red is red, and little doubt could arise as to the color of the light. Of course, interpretation would still be left to the individual mariner, but he sees these colors almost nightly, so is familiar with their meanings.

It would be folly to assume that this sys­tem would be a panacea for the often con­fusing meeting and crossing situations, but for the time being, it seems to be an inexpensive yet positive signal suitable for general use. The materials necessary for installation are im­mediately available and need no further re­search and development. Craft of all sizes could use the equipment, since, unlike radio, it would not be subject to a language barrier or to electronic failure. Nor is it nearly so technical and complex as is radar, which still needs expert interpretation to be a positive aid in close quarters. In short, this system could be ours today with a brief amendment to the Rules of the Road and by the installa­tion of simple, inexpensive equipment.