“ ... to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.”
Of all the fine traditions of the United States Navy, victory itself is the greatest. Unfortunately the fruits of victory often hide the seeds of future defeat.
Victory at sea in World War II added another glorious chapter to naval history, another example of the invincibility of inspired leadership in action.
The quarterdeck of the Missouri had hardly been cleared of the vanquished enemy when postwar politics began to hazard our nation’s sea power. Budget planners almost succeeded in accomplishing with fiscal policy what no enemy fleet had been able to do in combat.
Then Korea proved a graphic, timely, and fortuitous demonstration of the vital necessity for sea power—one that even the most rabid advocates of massive retaliation dared not attempt to refute. Subsequent events have since served almost daily to affirm the U. S. Navy’s preeminent role across the spectrum of finely graduated force in projection of our national power.
Now it would appear that we of the Navy might feel inclined cautiously to congratulate ourselves in our present enjoyment of hard won public understanding and support.
Never since World War II have the U. S. Navy’s capabilities in support of the national defense effort been so generally and incontrovertibly recognized. Never since 1945 has the Navy looked so good from an external viewpoint.
But let us cast an eye inward. As the strength of our nation is the total strength of its states, so the effectiveness of the U. S. Navy is the total effectiveness of its ships and aircraft. From the vital viewpoint of the ship, therefore, how do we now stand—where are we going?
From the vantage point of more than a dozen years at sea, four consecutive commands, and two tours in the Pentagon, my opinion is that the U. S. Navy is in the grip of a fight against a force so strong, so insidious as to threaten seriously the combat effectiveness of each seagoing unit. The U. S. Navy today faces a message gap—a struggle to communicate a sense of purpose and direction and motivation which could be more decisive than any naval action in world history.
Never before have we had so many reams of instructions—and so little actual communication.
Never so many directives—and so little sense of direction.
Never so much required leadership training —never so little effective leadership.
This situation is common to many large organizations, since man has, in this century, developed a remarkable capacity for constructing mammoth organizations without the concomitant capability of managing them.
This crisis in administration is inevitably accompanied by a rising tide of paperwork, a blind fascination with administrative detail as an end rather than a means, a compulsive dedication to the word rather than the deed.
At no time in the history of our Navy has the commander of a ship had more combat potential at his command. Yet never before has the captain been rendered so powerless by administrative detail to command his own ship effectively.
Let us understand from the outset that the paperwork revolt of the captains (so evident in recent issues of our professional forums) is only a symptom, not the disease. It is only a part of the administrative ataxia syndrome which strikes at the roots of human understanding and motivation.
Deteriorating dramatically since World War II, this situation has now reached the point where only swift, drastic, and far-reaching remedial action can hope to succeed.
During the period 15 June to 15 July 1962, my last month as commanding officer, 272 different papers requiring some specific action crossed my desk. This was, of course, in addition to hundreds of incoming and outgoing dispatches. During the same period, the ship was deployed with the Sixth Fleet and was underway about 75 per cent of the time. The wardroom officers were on a one-in-three watch basis and inquiry revealed that they spent 60 to 70 per cent of their waking hours off watch in processing paper.
It was fortunate that we even managed to transit Gibraltar, for the month prior to deployment featured administrative chaos to a degree, alongside of which HMS Pinafore would have been dull and not very funny.
Having been in home port only a matter of weeks the entire preceding year and having aborted refresher training to take part in Caribbean contingency operations plus a couple of “Mercury Shoots,” the ship sorely needed every minute available prior to shoving off for the Mediterranean.
The administrators, however, had other plans. To the Commodore, this was an ideal opportunity to conduct his administrative inspections on all ships in the squadron and for the Flotilla Commander to insure the Type Commander that each item of the pre- Mediterranean check-off list in each ship was completed. In addition, since “running in place” and “push-ups” are somewhat hazardous while underway in the North Atlantic, we had to complete the requirements of the physical fitness program while alongside.
As the ship glistened in her hastily applied coat of fresh paint over old rust, the liberty- starved crew lined up gingerly on the tacky weather decks. The officers hastily assembled voluminous, recently gun-decked records in the wardroom and the various departmental offices. They were all worried because they had previously spent a large part of their time acting as inspectors on other ships of the squadron and consequently had little time for their own preparations.
It is difficult—extremely so—to eliminate subjective analysis from any approach to the problem of seagoing administration. In an effort to come as close as possible to an objective approach, I analyzed articles and letters appearing in the Naval Institute Proceedings and other professional publications over the past ten years. This effort, coupled with full and free discussion with shipmates, commodores, and fellow skippers revealed the following general consensus of problem areas.
We have every right to expect, and reason to believe, that our top leaders are dedicated men responsive to the needs of the Fleet. These key officers are inevitably drawn, by virtue of their positions, further and further away from the realities of life at sea, closer and closer to the international crisis of the moment. This leads to a growing dependence on series of briefings to keep in touch— briefings which are too often prone to elaborate the inconsequential and ignore the obvious. Probably the most important factor is that the most recent minor combatant command held by those who are presently of flag rank probably occurred during or just after World War II at which time our paper tiger was just an innocuous kitty. There is understandably, therefore, little first hand appreciation of the urgency for remedial action.
It is unfortunate when the top command loses touch with the troops and no longer knows the realities of life at the working level in the Fleet. It is even more dangerous when they are not aware of what they don’t know.
Of this we are certain; no action to curb this administrative schizophrenia afflicting us at the working level will be effective unless taken at the top. Further, this action will not be taken unless a means is found to lay the issue before the U. S. Navy. It is this purpose which prompted the writing of this article.
Special reports from the ship as well as additional tasks (special surveys, tests, etc.) are often required without concurrence or knowledge of the ship’s operational commanders. Even in the case of directives proceeding through the inflated chain of command, the ship or squadron at the bottom of the administration heap receives the initial instruction plus an interpretation, paraphrase, and usually amplification from every rung of the descending ladder. The subject file folders afloat are bursting with this plethora of duplication. At sea there is neither room enough to store it all nor time to read it.
For better or for worse, there is an unmistakable trend in Washington toward civilian control of the various Bureau functions which if extended will result in civilian command. The rash of recent programs in Leadership, Physical Fitness, People-to-People, etc., superimpose a staggering, time-consuming, administrative workload on an already shaky foundation. If the officials (military or civilian) responsible for inflicting some of these programs on the ships could actually observe the end result, they would be appalled. The spectacle of bluejackets running down a pier against a stopwatch while stores lie on the dock awaiting the heavy physical labor of loading—or of sailors trying to get their chinning requirements done in a State Four sea— would be excruciatingly funny if it were not basically tragic.
Consider the problem of the captain who dutifully orders compliance with the leadership program and sends the crew off to classroom space ashore while losing an afternoon of supervision of yard work per week, the lack of which may later spell disaster at sea. This same captain will probably be among the first to admit that a great deal must be done to improve leadership in his command; however, historian Douglass Freeman said just about all that needed saying about leadership, “Be a man, know your stuff—take care of your men.”
No one would deny that taken singly each of these programs that originate from above has some individual merit. Herein lies much of the problem. If this were not so, they would be much more difficult to justify and hence to perpetrate on the Fleet. When examined from the standpoint of total effect in terms of man hour consumption, however, the result is serious enough to produce ulcers in the best adjusted executive officer.
This is just one more conclusive bit of evidence of lack of effective two-way personal communications between the Fleet and the Washington Bureaus.
This is by no means the full story. Even were the Civil Service planners actually aware that these best laid plans had gone askew, they would not be in the least deterred from future efforts. Even if the perpetrators of these administrative crimes against the Fleet knew how the program, which they hail so proudly, was miscarrying in practice, such knowledge would not result in its elimination. The civilian planners are exerting increasing influence in the various bureaus, particularly in the areas of training, and any cessation of programs or diminution of administrative record supervision also constricts the empire and hence the GS status of the individual administrator. Why the officers assigned to the Bureaus permit and encourage this procession of prefabricated programs to be foisted upon the Fleet is more difficult to understand.
One might logically suppose that as a former CO rotates ashore to Washington, he might dedicate himself to the solution of this problem. Instead, most of us become a part of it.
But regardless of culpability, gentlemen of the Bureaus, if you believe that a ship of destroyer size or smaller has time and personnel to implement properly all of these directed programs in the face of a wartime operating schedule; if you really consider that the end results bear any positive correlation with the programs’ designed objectives; if you believe in the validity of a fragment of politically- prompted favorable endorsements in the face of the mass of silent dissent, then you are deluding yourselves and diluting rather than reinforcing the combat readiness of the Fleet.
The professional virtues which cause a naval officer to advance in peacetime are not necessarily those which are most important in war—in fact, they are generally far different. This fact was borne out during the early days of World War II when the administrators briefly but disastrously had the conn. In our uneasy peacetime, the qualities of tact, affability, and administrative impeccability are exaggerated out of all proportion over those of courageous confidence, shiphandling ability, and durability in command. We have literally arrived at the unhappy juncture where a well phrased endorsement is more important career-wise than a well-handled night replenishment operation, and discreet discussion at the Type Commander’s conference more meaningful than a smart “Med Moor.”
In this game of papyrus ping-pong, any number can play and all who can, generally do. Our administrative tribulations, although ultimately traceable to the top, are compounded by the efforts of all echelons between.
During World War II in destroyers in the Pacific, we had one mimeographed tactical publication (I believe we called it PACFLT 10), the General Signal Book, necessary communication codes and pubs, plus the scarcely dried order for the next strike. We fought a pretty good war in destroyers—at least our side won, and we did it with a minimum of paper.
After World War II in the interests of consolidation of tactical and administrative procedures within the U. S. Navy and to promote uniformity of understanding and action by the then newly formed NATO naval forces, a series of NWPs, NWIPs, et al., came into being.
Although commendable in theory, in practice these publications instead of solving the problem, became a part of it. Every operational commander in the chain had a slightly different idea of how certain evolutions were to be performed and sometimes these modifications changed from operation to operation. As a result, every destroyer’s bridge began to resemble a reference library with a serious plumbing leak. Difficult in daytime, with various officers madly thumbing through assorted pubs, the reference problem was compounded at night. As a case in point, while proceeding from plane guard to screen station, our problem was whether or not to extinguish our red truck lights. We had to consult no less than three publications—ATP-1, HUK Group Op Order, Current Task Group Op Order, and the OOD dispatch board (someone recalled a recent message modification) before a decision could be reached.
Paradoxically, the requirements for keeping up with modifications to the NWPs kept us from learning basic publications themselves.
Another case in point exemplifies the administrative side of life afloat. During the ship’s last month in the naval shipyard, the captain decided it was time to get the post-navy yard training program planned insofar as practicable. This objective was put out to the officers at daily tactical school, with the suggestion that we should take into account the requirements of the Guantanamo Pre-Refresher Arrival Inspection as well as Type Commander Administrative Inspection. But we found that these two additional requirements were not in the least compatible.
On one checkoff list, individual records were required, while the other permitted an over-all or group tabulation. One completely ignored the basic stipulations on shipboard training organization set forth in NWP-50 while the other frequency referred to the NWP requirements. There were so many differences between the two that the attempt to reconcile them was most difficult, time-consuming, and unsuccessful.
With so few senior officers afloat for so short a time, administration approaches Santayana’s definition of fanaticism—“the redoubling of effort when one loses sight of the aim.” This situation is typified by an incident which happened after a severe storm at Newport, R. I., on 16 March 1956.1
As the storm abated and the dawn broke, the receding shadows disclosed no less than five ships aground and many others seriously damaged alongside by the buffeting of the 70-knot wind.
Old hands, agreed to a man, that the preceding night, clawing through impenetrable snow showers with a bare third of ship’s company aboard, had been the worst in Newport’s history. Grateful that our destroyer had escaped when one of our inboard colleagues was high and dry in Coddington Cove, we proceeded on one usable screw to a rather ticklish landing at Goat Island. On the pier a messenger awaited us with a manila envelope under his arm. As he approached the bridge, we conjectured that this was a “well done” from the Commodore—something to quote in the Plan of the Day to inspire an exhausted frost-bitten crew. Sure enough, the envelope bore the familiar CORTRON imprint.
To our chagrin, however, the envelope contained an irate memo notifying us that on the preceding Sunday our duty steward had mixed the “wet” and the “dry” garbage in the Dempsey Dumpster.
In order to accomplish anything more than a quixotic charge at today’s administrative windmill, it is necessary to comprehend the underlying issues. The normal impulse is to shrug nonchalantly and accept this impasse as a sign of the times. It is that, certainly, but it is equally certain that this is a trend which must be dramatically reversed if we are to maintain optimum combat readiness.
This alarming flight from personal responsibility and consequent refuge in the committee decision plagues not only the Navy and the nation but the whole Free World. Writing in The Reporter a few years ago, Henry A. Kissinger summarized the problem as follows: “the fact remains that the entire Free World suffers not only from administrative myopia but also from self righteousness and the lack of a sense of direction.”
At the national level, there is in theory no bar under our constitutional Government which would rule out vigorous personal leadership and the enunciation of clear-cut objectives which combine to yield an over-all sense of direction. I submit that the recent actions of our Chief Executive substantiate this premise. In practice, however, the pressures on the highly placed policy maker, as a result of his inward personal insecurity—a desire for academic objectivity, or to reconcile conflicting points of view—tend to drive top level decisions into the laps of committees.
This is the core of the problem, the ultimate root of the problem. From this reaction burgeons in many instances the “higher incoherence” of Department of Defense policy to which we in the Navy must adapt and which we must often attempt to second-guess. Our present state of shipboard confusion can be traced ultimately to this tidewater mark; the confluence of the currents of national political expedience and the tides of Free World military security.
But we are concerned with this problem and its solution within the framework of the U. S. Navy. By the very nature of naval operations, it is the Navy which suffers most from the dichotomy between those who make policy and those who carry it out, between the planners and the operators, between the committee complex of the Pentagon and the absolute personal responsibility of command at sea. It is also the Navy that has long resisted (thus far successfully) any dilution of command authority and responsibility. It is here in the crucible of command at sea that the captain bears total responsibility for the deed and not the intent, for the total results and not the facile plan.
Should the day arrive when patriotism becomes an outmoded concept and a Navy career simply a seagoing civil service job, then we will be in sad straits indeed. It would be appropriate therefore for us of the U. S. Navy to take the lead in this struggle to reaffirm the right to return to the fundamentals of our profession and rededicate ourselves to those things and only those things which contribute to winning a war at sea.
A hint as to the course we must take comes in a letter in the October 1962 issue of the Proceedings, in which Captain Edward L. Beach has this to say:
A lot of words have been written on this subject, but very little permanently has been done about it. It is thus apparent that only a large scale frontal assault on the entire top- heavy structure can hope to succeed. Maximum support of seniors will be necessary: for each vested interest, when attacked will rise to its own defense. The creeping inflation of administration is as great as any danger our Navy has ever faced, and success in this endeavor is vital to the Navy.
The task at hand appears to be a two-fold problem:
There is an affirmative aspect, wherein a positive sense of coherent direction and clear cut current objectives must be consistently furnished the Navy by its top planning and command level. By implication, this embodies a continuing evaluation in the light of reaffirmation of the fundamental virtues and traditions which have made us the greatest Navy in the world.
There is also the restrictive aspect, wherein all present administrative practices afloat (or affecting afloat units) are continuously evaluated and drastic action is taken to curtail any programs or eliminate any details not contributing significantly to the combat readiness of the ship.
The following general and specific steps are recommended:
(1) Recognize that a most serious problem does in fact exist.
(2) Research the far-reaching and complex parameters of the problem.
(3) Realize the necessity for positive and drastic action to solve the problem and make continuing efforts to hold it within manageable limits.
(4) Resolve that effective remedial measures can be devised and that such action shall be taken.
Before enumerating specific actions which might be taken, let me reiterate that the purpose of this paper is to project an issue which I consider paramount to the Navy’s combat readiness into the open professional forum in such a manner as to catalyze top level action with this problem. Too long have we philosophically rationalized the fact that we must accept the situation as inevitable. The recommendations which follow are designed to serve solely as examples which might help to move the frame of reference of this discussion from the area of the general to that of the specific. They serve only to indicate areas in which some action must be taken and to hint at the sort of action which might be appropriate in fulfilling our general objectives.
The first specific recommendation is the formation of a Command Liaison Task Force to be headed by a flag officer (possibly recently retired but certainly of unusually broad experience and professional stature) and composed of a half dozen officers returning from sea duty in command and executive billets. This Task Force would review, at first hand, all facets of this problem as they relate to shipboard administration beginning at the Navy Department level and carrying through all intermediate echelons. This Task Force would report direct to the Chief of Naval Operations within six months after inception. In a continuing sense and with rotating short term membership, the Task Force would (after its original report) be redesignated as a permanent monitoring and control board.
This group would be empowered to exercise individual initiative and live aboard while studying the problem of the individual ship. The Task Force would be encouraged to explore the following possibilities, among others, on a trial basis:
(1) Declare a moratorium on any or all extraneous programs, reports, magazines, periodicals, etc., not necessary to the accomplishment of the ship’s basic mission.
(2) Reinstitute requirements for reports on other administrative action only after central clearance by the Command Liaison Task Force.
(3) Investigate the use of a “Noform”2 concept to standardize those reports considered vitally necessary.
(4) Prescribe that all orders to any ship be channeled through the operational chain of command.
(5) Consider recommendations to streamline the present afloat command structure with particular reference to the following possibilities.
Placement of type commanders on the staff of the fleet commander.
Elimination of Flotilla Commander from any permanent administrative identification with any units.
Elimination of the Division Commander billet and assignment of any necessary responsibilities to senior skipper.
(6) The requirement that basic NATO publications be used exclusively on all fleet exercises.
The second specific recommendation pertains to the placement of fiscal competition on the same plane as INSURV board inspections. Each type commander prescribes a certain minimum number of standard exercises to be completed and scored competitively in the course of the Fiscal year. Even under ideal conditions, this represents a formidable task—- under the usual conditions which prevail at sea, an impossible one.
It is not the difficulty of completion of the required “Compets” but the mass of observer reports which must be taken, collated, and typed up which precipitates the administrative overload. Here again there is a minimum of two or three pubs which have to be checked prior to preparing a competitive exercise report. The time-consuming semantic intricacies required to arrive at the proper “merit score” for a DesLant ASW exercise, for example, would delight the heart of a United Nations parliamentarian. It should be added here that although the minute mechanical details specific to the conduct of every competition are required to be noted and recorded in order to ensure strict compliance with the stipulated conditions, the really important factors, such as the turnover rate in key department personnel, operational conditions recently experienced by the ship, prevailing weather, sonar, and electronic propagation conditions, are largely ignored in arriving at a score. Further, all other factors being equal, the belief that a fair exercise evaluation can and will be made by an observing party mostly constituted of opposite numbers from a ship which is competing with the ships observed for the “E” is patently unrealistic.
The emphasis is on the report rather than the readiness of the ship. It is more important that the report be legible than accurate; more important that it be prompt than significant. In fact, there is in one of our type commands a typical and alarming illustration of how far one can get from the fundamentals. Of all the myriad exercises required to complete DesLant’s competitive year, there is one subject area that doesn’t even count competitively— seamanship!
This is one area in which a large reduction in the ship’s administrative work load can be quickly achieved. Abolition of these useless reports and elimination of recurrent demands for unhappy observing parties would in the course of a year provide a quantum jump in man hours available to the ship. Also it is only by employment of permanent, impartial, and uniformly well qualified observing teams that any worthwhile qualitative judgment of the ship can be made. The standard exercises would still be conducted on a voluntary basis in accordance with the needs of the ship as determined by the captain. Force Inspection Teams would then schedule a standard operational readiness type inspection for each ship annually.
This specialized inspection team would live aboard ship for a brief period in connection with conduct of scored competitive exercises and would also be able to assist in a cogent administrative evaluation.
The third recommendation is that we recognize command as a specialty. The commanding officer of a ship is always a key figure in the functioning of administration afloat. There is a distinct art in separating what should be “deep sixed” from that segment of official correspondence of any importance. It is an art which must be acquired early in order to succeed in command and one which comes only after considerable experience and no little research. It is also an attribute which, once acquired, seems to persist indefinitely. Under the present detailing concept that “everyone deserves a chance at bat,” the quick succession of new faces in the sea cabin does little to enhance the formation of the intensely personal interrelationship of skipper and crew which is a sine qua non of successful command at sea. In a poll conducted a few years ago on a representative group of destroyers, it was found that 20 per cent of the bluejackets did not even know the name of their commanding officer.
There are many other important reasons why command must be regarded as a specialty in itself. From the standpoint of administration, obvious advantages would accrue from a succession of “Command Specialists” in command. It may even be advisable to amplify the “Wet and Dry Navy” concept3 to include a “Damp” segment composed of certain officers unusually adept at both personal communications and shiphandling to act, (when on shore duty) as a bridge at Bureau levels ashore between the “talkers” and the “doers” when this expedient would facilitate understanding of the “Wet” Navy’s problems by the “Drys.”
The final recommendation is that we close our message gap. On the other side of the communications coin, there is an urgent need for an affirmative over-all sense of direction from the top. Montgomery of Alamein sighted squarely on the heart of the matter when he said, “If battles are won they are won primarily in the hearts of men.” Just as example is the key to leadership)—personal communication is the key to motivation. Ultimately the combat readiness of any military organization depends largely on:
A thorough understanding of the importance of the unit’s objectives.
A knowledge of the details of each individual’s responsibility and the vital importance the contribution of each to the accomplishment of the over-all mission.
It is the general lack of authoritative, complete information as to what we are doing and why we are doing it (in short, the lack of a meaningful sense of direction) which is, in the main, more responsible for low re-enlistment and retention rates than long deployments and low pay.
The pride of a smart sailor in a smartly handled ship, tieing up after a productive operation, is a thing more valuable than fine gold—and harder to come by.
In many cases, instead of the informed sailor and the knowledgeable officer, we find a surprising lack of understanding of the purpose and importance of the operations in which they are immediately engaged. A recent series of interviews with junior officers of all type ships uncovered large numbers of naval aviators who did not know why the Navy required carriers, destroyer junior officers who felt that the Destroyer Force was obsolete, officers from the Amphibs who wondered why the Navy still needed them.
There is a necessity and an urgent one, therefore, for some agency near the top to fill the need for a clearer understanding of the interrelationship of the Navy’s wide effort— synthesize and communicate the Navy message to the Fleet. Somewhere, this fragmented information must be unified and related.
To do this meaningfully and effectively will require a much closer liaison between the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations and the Technical Information Officers of the Bureaus than presently exists.
As a navy, as a nation, and as the keystone of Free World military power we move in time through an era of increasing danger both from without and within.
From without, the forces of international Communism hammer relentlessly at the frontiers of freedom in the avowed purpose of destroying democracy throughout the world.
From within, we face a well intentioned but very real threat to our national military security in the form of burgeoning hyperadministration, which constantly distracts the attention of all military commanders from that which should be their primary concern— the combat readiness of the command.
Since scientific and technological advances have so far outstripped those of the social and political sciences we can only expect the international armed truce or more serious military confrontation for the foreseeable future.
Since the U. S. Navy, as sole guardian of the blue water frontiers of freedom plays a primary and increasingly important role in our nation’s security, our responsibility for maintaining maximum combat readiness is indeed immediate and grave. The gravity of this challenge is equalled only by the size of the stake which our nation has in her Navy— survival itself.
The disabling dilemma of administrative detail as it cuts down the combat readiness of the Fleet, the proliferation of packaged programs perpetrated by people ashore who “don’t know what they don’t know” about the realities of life at sea, have reached unmanageable proportions.
Action to reduce this administrative overload must be drastic and all encompassing. It will not be a pleasant or an easy task—but it must be done.
There are times in the career of every naval officer when he must stand up and be counted.
I am sure that there are literally hundreds who put the good of the ship and service above personal career planning who will rise and say as Themistocles did centuries ago “Strike, but hear me.”
The scope of this article permits only a superficial discussion of problem areas and limited exploration of recommended solutions. Many others will have better ideas; some will say it can’t be done. When a man says a task is impossible it simply means he cannot do it. We have before us a challenge we cannot ignore—a task that we must accomplish.
Corrective action in this crisis must come from the top and it must be sustained. This action must be fundamentally philosophical in nature and dedicated in deed as well as word to the reaffirmation of the traditions of personal responsibility which distinguish those who fight in the demanding and uncompromising realm of the sea.
This action must positively reassert the fundamental premise that the U. S. Navy exists to fight and win wars and that the sole purpose of the shore establishment is to support the Fleet at sea.
It means giving naval operations back to the Navy—the command back to the captain —the ship back to the boatswain’s mate.
The challenge is certain; the task is clear; the time is now.
1. See H. O. Webster, “Berth 124, Destroyer Pier One,” U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, May 1957, p. 489.
2. See A. G. Nelson, “Noforms Are the Answer,” U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, October 1961, p. 66.
3. See W. C. Fortune, “A Wet Navy and a Dry Navy,” U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, February 1962, p. 19.