“The Frustration Factor”
(See F. B. Shemanski, pp. 27-33, April 1971 Proceedings)
Captain Edward L. Beach, U. S. Navy (Retired)—The Navy has many things right with it, but, unfortunately, some things wrong as well. Commander Shemanski is on target when he says that the easy things to find fault with are not the worst things wrong. What is worst wrong is the Navy’s failure to realize—despite all the words written to the contrary—that it is composed of people who must be treated like people. How can loyalty or energy or devotion he caused to exist in a ship, or a crew, or any other organization, when whatever organizational cohesiveness it has been able to create is callously cast aside or, even worse, overlooked as being of no account? How can “leadership” function in a climate of ultimate futility?
I can remember stories during the war about changing the entire crews of ineffective ships to improve performance. The same principle should work as well in reverse: keep an effective outfit together even if the system has to be bent a little to do so. Leadership will thus he recognized and rewarded by preserving what leadership strove so hard to create.
All of us have gone through “training cycles” in which the only things that could possibly have been “trained” were the steel and electronic mechanisms of the ships themselves; for, with rare exceptions, the people present at the end of the training cycle were not the same as those who began it. One of the things largely at fault, it seems to me, is the assumed equality of everyone with the same rate or rank. We all know this is not true, and yet we act as though we thought it were. More important still is that no matter what the caliber of the people, mixing them around all the time can only destroy the subtle morale factor which makes people perform willingly and pridefully at their highest common denominator instead of mechanically at their lowest.
If you handle people like cogs in a machine, they will behave like cogs, except that they will also retain (and accentuate, because of their lack of organizational pride) all their human failings. This is not new. We all know this. But we went off the track when we tried to institute a big, central, automated system to treat all people equally. For in doing so, we had also to treat them like things, instead of like people.
I fear that perhaps the greatest problem in our personnel practices, however, is the fact that we base them on the theory that, since the Navy exists to be ready for a war, we must maintain a very large input basis and, at the other end, a large discharge or retirement basis. One result is an overwhelming retired pay charge against the taxpayer which he now, more than ever before, resents. At the same time, the relatively young retirees are most still fully capable of doing the jobs the Navy needs done, and are themselves frustrated at being so soon, and unnecessarily, put on the shelf to make room for men still younger, and less effective for that reason. Another result is a huge bureaucracy in the shore establishment, and yet another is an insufficiency of experience at sea. I will wager, for instance, that the average age of our officer or enlisted complements of ships at sea these days is not much different from what it was during the war. That is, they are much more junior, in age, experience, and rank, than their pre-war contemporaries. During the war, heads of departments became more youthful, which was to be expected. But, after it was over, they did not regain their earlier status.
When I was a midshipman, the Commandant once delivered a talk in which he said the Navy was not just a job, it was a way of life. The emotion which clearly possessed him as he said these words made it plain that he meant them very deeply. As a Navy junior, I had been brought up in the same outlook. But it is all different now, for the Navy is more and more like a business corporation. We still maintain the fiction that time at sea is what it is all about—but our every move belies our words. Ships used to be one’s home away from home; now they are simply the place where one works. One questions, in short, where has the seagoing professionalism of the Navy gone?
One answer is that much of it has gone ashore, and in doing so has changed into something else: a bureaucracy which is beginning uneasily to realize that it is more and more missing the target and yet cannot readily rediscover its true bearings. One very small symptom of our malaise is that the crews of our ships are too impermanent. The greatest thing that could be done for the professionalism of our Navy, in my opinion, would be somehow to inaugurate a system where the average length of service on board any ship for all hands, from the captain on down, would be multiplied by some tremendous factor, like four or more. Second, the ships themselves should be re-elevated into the seamen’s home at sea, which they once were.
A good move in the needed direction might be to give each skipper the final say over transfers of his own personnel to the point, at least, where the operational effectiveness of his ship would be considered first instead of last. I can well imagine the snorts of disdain which this proposal will arouse, and the cries of anguish were it really to be attempted. These are measures of the degree to which the Navy has gotten out of touch with the realities of what its profession used to be, and should be again.
“‘Trapped’ By Nonselection?”
(See C. A. Nelson, pp. 87-89, October 1970 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Commander Hilliard B. Holbrook, II, U. S. Navy—As a member of the group under discussion, I feel well-qualified to comment on the article. (I assume the major problem area is in the 1100/1300 category).
(1) The lack of motivation referred to could more properly be termed a developing cynicism with the organization, or at least the skepticism that Commander Nelson points out.
(2) The selection at the 13-to-14-year point is unrealistic. This apparently comes about from accelerated promotions at all levels to entice junior officers. Why not just give them more money?
(3) In line with this, downgrade billets to a reasonable level. After being passed over for commander, I then proceeded to spend about 53 months in commander billets as a lieutenant commander.
Pending an immediate solution to the problem (which is needed), I suggest that the passed-over lieutenant commanders would provide an excellent source of information to find out what is wrong, if anything, with the Navy. They are more free to speak out on disturbing trends, waste, and outdated procedures than those who have either achieved a successful career or who still think they will.
The area is worthy of serious study now or in the near future. The lieutenant commander seems to be the middle management of the Navy—“young studs and old fuds . . . .”
Cover Painting—“SS U. S. Explorer”
(See cover, March 1971 Proceedings)
Commander John R. Lyden, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)—I was chief mate on board one of these ships—young, stupid, and usually broke—yet I was devoted to this pile of metal and all of her problems. It is a kind of love, I believe, which does not need analysis and will remain long after the ship is scrapped and forgotten This painting started a chain of fond recollections. My thanks to the artist, John Charles Roach.
“Junior Officer Retention, A Lot of Little Things”
(See M. S. Harris, pp. 26-31, March; and pp. 97-98, August 1971 Proceedings)
Mrs. Jean Sundt, Editor, The Mermaid, Officers’ Wives’ Club, Amphibious Force, U. S. Atlantic Fleet—I must admit that my first reaction to the article by Lieutenant Harris was one of anger. As I read along, I found myself thinking, “Why, he’s talking about my husband, and that’s not true.” Later, as I thought more about it, however, the anger changed to regret.
I could not help wondering, did Lieutenant Harris never know an excited and proud captain to telephone a junior officer’s home to announce the good news of a promotion hot off the wires? Did he never have a captain who sent a mimeographed, biographical data sheet to his new assistant and wrote across it, “This is the man you’ll be working with?” Or another captain who lived, ate, slept Navy 24 hours a day and drove his men with such zeal that we wives, whose husbands served under him, still see his powerful influence in our men’s devotion to duty? Did he never see a personable commander at a “South of the Border” party decked out as Frito Bandito complete with paint brushes as epaulets on his safari jacket, handlebar mustache, and huge sombrero? Or did he never taste a wardroom spaghetti dinner cooked by a gourmet staff captain who complained of poor eating fare and decided to put one of his diverse interests—cooking—to good use? I could go on and on, because the colorful senior officers I have known in the Navy have been anything but rare. Of course, I cannot recall a John Wayne or Henry Fonda. And, yes, there have been some bland individuals, but in a profession that presupposes conformity and a high degree of discipline, it is amazing I have met so few.
It seems to me the sea is full of unpredictable elements and requires a cool head and steady hand more than an exciting personality guiding a ship in it. I am not sure junior officers would have been inspired by Captain Nemo, Queeg, Ahab, or Bligh, who allowed their eccentricities to cloud their judgment.
With these observations and wonderings, however, I do not mean to discredit Lieutenant Harris’ article. I simply want to climb on the seesaw of criticism and balance his negativism a little on the positive side with “. . . a lot of little things.”
If one junior officer has served his allotted time in the Navy without encountering many senior leaders who impressed him, without enjoying to some extent our life style, without being challenged by an interesting job, then that is indeed a sad situation, one that needs changing, and hopefully, one that is changing rapidly nowadays.
“A United States Navy for the Future”
(See R. H. Smith, pp. 18-25, March; pp. 81-90, June; pp. 89-93, July; and pp. 93-96, August 1971 Proceedings)
Captain Peter F. Block, U. S. Navy—Captain Smith has summarized in a most lucid and compelling manner some of the more serious shortcomings of today’s Navy—weaknesses which are of serious concern to a great many professional officers. The actual situation may be even more alarming, if that is possible, than that portrayed by Captain Smith. He addresses the possibility that the Soviet Union may one day achieve the capability to control the seas. It can be argued that this is not the real danger. The Soviets, possessing the greater part of the “world island” and favored with internal lines of communication, probably do not need to control the seas in order to accomplish their purposes; they need simply to deny, or seriously jeopardize, our control of the seas. This they have already done, largely for the reasons cited in the Prize Essay. By this analysis, the situation is even more serious than Captain Smith has indicated. It is not the 11th hour, but the 13th.
The case for a strong, modern U. S. Navy can be summarized succinctly. Faced with exterior lines of communication, we must be prepared to make vital sea lanes at least reasonably secure. We must regain the capability to turn these exterior lines to our own advantage in the form of optional avenues of approach to a hostile or potentially hostile littoral. The oceans provide us an ideal environment for operation of strategic strike systems (Polaris may be one of the few shining beacons to which Captain Smith refers), but in addition to taking advantage of the opportunity offered, we must be prepared to defend against a potential foe’s use of the seas for a similar purpose.
A visible naval presence is probably the most effective show of force yet developed. Rapidly deployable, naval forces can be moved from one point to the next with great rapidity, and are therefore economical in terms of total investment required. Many decades of experience should have taught us, also, that when use of force is required, properly conducted naval operations can be far more effective, and far less costly in terms of lives and national involvement, than other forms of warfare. The current situation in Southeast Asia is a classic example of failure to make full use of the potential of seapower.
The need for a strong Navy, then, seems self-evident. As naval officers, we need to spend less effort competing for resources and more effort making sure we attain the best possible results with the resources we are given. Our record in this respect is poor. We have entered the 1970s with a Fleet composed in part of obsolete relics from another era, in part of new units of questionable reliability and effectiveness. Many of our new ships compare rather poorly with their foreign counterparts. We cannot adequately cope with the nuclear submarine, and we are way behind the power curve in dealing with the threat posed by the surface-to-surface missile. Our organization is flabby, with a rank structure all too similar to an inverted pyramid. We have found places to. put several thousand senior officers, excess to the reasonable needs of the Service, but in doing so, have created swollen staffs and a bureaucracy so bloated as to seriously impede the decision-making process.
If ever the Navy is to fulfill its purpose and realize its full potential, it will have to be a leaner, tougher, more modern, and far more professional organization than it is today. There are many things which can be done to get us moving, and in recent months many very good things have been done. But until we cut away the excess superstructure which makes us so topheavy, we will never achieve the momentum and sense of purpose essential to real progress. More than any other single thing, we need a major reduction in the number of senior naval officers on active duty—not just a turnover in the senior ranks, but a permanent reduction in numbers of active duty commanders, captains, and flag officers. Such a policy would create many problems, and might well cost us many outstanding officers of real value to the Service, but it would be worth the price.
Commander Tyrone G. Martin, U. S. Navy, Commanding Officer, USS Higbee (DD-806)—I think that Captain Smith has been very critical of the servant, while not assessing the role of the employer in this state of affairs.
For better or for worse, our history is replete with instances of popular, if temporary or short-sighted, goals being pursued by our government in response to the pressure of the people it serves. This is a price we pay for our democracy, and I would not change it, but there are some national objectives or positions that cannot be sustained without longterm, consistent commitment. One of these is being a sea power.
For nearly 200 years, we, with our near-insular position in the world, have toyed with seapower. The strength and capabilities of our Navy and merchant marine, together with the shipbuilding industry needed to sustain them, have waxed and waned according to the pressures and interests of the moment. A few spokesmen have always been present to point out the geographic necessity for the United States to be a maritime nation, but this fact has not become fundamental to our outlook in the way it apparently did in ancient Phoenicia, or, more recently, in Great Britain. Our people and their government should recognize and adopt this idea, not as a passing whim, but as an article of faith.
When recognition is achieved that the United States is irrevocably a maritime nation, then the political leadership must decide what form our seapower is to take and what it is to accomplish. Considering the Navy alone from this point on, our civilian employers must tell us what they want a navy for—what they want it to be able to do. With this guidance available to us, then the professional sailors can set about determining and recommending the types and numbers of ships and weapons required to fulfill the assigned missions. A succession of programs can be developed to continue, at a relatively constant level of expenditure, to maintain and upgrade the requisite forces. Many of our problems today, I believe, stem from this lack of longterm direction and the natural resultant tendency for every manager to worry about his slice of the pot most immediately and only vaguely about the “whole picture.” This is not to say that sincere dedication is lacking, only that the reins from the top are not consistently applied, nor is the team always well matched.
There are two other elements which contribute to the state of our Navy today. One is the attitude that everything we build or do must be a counter to something done or built by someone else, currently the Soviet Union. We are now deeply concerned about anti-ship missile defense because, over the past two decades, the Soviet Union has produced a spectrum of such weapons. Other examples will come to the reader's mind, I am sure—examples where we are now planning to acquire something for use in the 1970s in response to something the Soviets did in the 1960s. Must we always have someone provide us with an in-being threat before we can develop a weapons system? Are we so unimaginative? The list of things our Navy has done to give a potential opponent fits is sadly short.
The second of the two elements alluded to is the tremendous insulation that has built up around American defense-related industry and labor over the years. It is well known we have largely priced ourselves out of the world in some areas, for example, in the shipbuilding industry. This insulation seems to have resulted in a lack of true competition in these industries. Private ventures to create weapons, vehicles, and the like for potential sale to the Department of Defense or allied countries are rare, unlike the practice in many European countries. Contracts here are awarded as much on political grounds as anything else, spreading the wealth and generally emphasizing “buy American.” It is this last element that has particular importance, for it stifles competition from outside our own economy. Some have said that we should not become dependent on outside sources of supply for weapons, but that argument is hard to sustain in face of the fact that we already are dependent upon overseas sources for some 76 designated “strategic materials.” Another article in the same issue of the Proceedings, Lieutenant Commander O’Neil’s, “Gun Systems? For Air Defense?,” takes note of a series of excellent, proven lightweight, automatic weapons produced by S.P. A. OTO Melara in Italy, including a 5-inch, 54-caliber. Why shouldn’t we arrange to produce this under license, at least, instead of pursuing our own development of a lightweight system of the same caliber (for the Spruance-class destroyers) and suffering through all the growing pains? A few such programs might provide incentive for more imagination and old-fashioned American get-up-and-go in the home industries.
And, contrary to Captain Smith’s comment that “The only surprise here can be that it took so long for Mahan to come through in Russian,” recognition of the need for seapower in order for a nation to be a great power dates back more than two centuries in Russia. Efforts to become a sea power have been recurrent in Russian history; it has been the efforts of stronger powers, principally Great Britain and France, that prevented any lasting success until now. With the demise or demobilization of most major navies at the end of World War II, the Soviet Navy found itself well up in the power structure largely by default, and the national leadership was quick to perceive the opportunity of the centuries. Persistence finally would pay off.
Captain Smith focused on the Soviet submarine force, saying that it is the foremost expression of Soviet naval power, “. . . the largest submarine force ever created prior to war.” Let us not forget, as a proof of Russian persistence, that the same statement could have been made in 1938, when there were four times as many Red as there were Nazi submarines. But the maritime threat we face today must not be looked at solely as being embodied in a single element. No, it is the total weight of Soviet seapower—Navy, merchant marine, fishing fleet, oceanographic research fleet, and shipbuilding industry—controlled, focussed, and directed from a single point in consonance with established, long-term national goals, that needs to be studied and considered when we, the world’s most reluctant and haphazard seapower, chart our future course.
“Wartime Training for Merchant Marine Officers”
(See J. W. Schute, pp. 102-103, March; and p. 97, July 1971 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Commander W. D. Jones, U. S. Navy, Assistant Head, Naval Science Department, Marine Maritime Academy—Encouraged by the Maine Maritime Academy’s general review, up-date, and increase in its curriculum, and their helpful interest in improving that of the Naval Science Department, our curriculum was overhauled two years ago and initiated last year (it will take four years to fully implement). We were also aided by the latitude allowed by the Bureau of Personnel in setting up courses and content which would best accomplish our mission, while taking into account the individual differences of the various maritime academies, as well as the more basic differences between ROTC and OCS objectives and missions. We arrived at a curriculum that incorporates most of Captain Schute’s thoughtful suggestions, as well as many new ideas that are extensions of his train of thought. The depth of these courses and their content retention by the student after several years are hindered by the time allotted us to teach them, but that factor, being unchangeable, provides us with a challenge as instructors and administrators to continue refining for optimum value.
There were several points in the article which may at present be fact, but shortly will not be or should not be. Of late, the difficulty in obtaining jobs on graduation, and our programs for improving the lot and quality of our personnel have sharpened the graduates’ interest in the Navy either as a career or an alternate profession until the country can use them again in merchant vessels. The Navy, in turn, can certainly use their technical skill and practical leadership abilities, especially on the ensign-through-lieutenant levels, and can usually assign them billets that enable them to up-grade their Coast Guard licenses. The naval careers of Maritime Academy graduates such as Captain Schute, are the finest kind of evidence of how well they do in upper ranks. The students are well aware that their diplomas are as good a beginning to distinctive naval service as the Naval Academy itself, perhaps, and certainly better preparation than four years of liberal arts college.
During peacetime, we face a continuing problem of holding enough merchant billets open for these graduates to maintain even a nucleus of capable and experienced officers to man our merchant vessels in event of war. It might be feasible to widen our Navy mission to give more of these men a place in our ranks at this time. This could be done by giving the state maritime academies contract NROTC units, or simply increasing our present Naval Science Departments’ abilities to meet present and future course needs, or to fulfill such a wider mission, by grouping them together administratively under a central control rather than, as at present, being separate substations under various area college NROTC unit heads. Opportunities should be made for the student to take paid summer cruises at midshipman salary in appropriate Navy ships (AO, AE), as well as a warmer welcome into some of our specialty ranks, such as engineering duty officer and the nuclear program.
“Stand By To Repel Boarders . . .”
(See T. D. Parham, p. 104, March 1971 Proceedings)
Gary J. Chester—“Stand by to repel boarders . . .” by oneself? Many times I have stood up to defend the United States, its flag, its military Services, and its ideals. Articles and letters of mine have appeared in college papers and in both Cleveland and New York newspapers. Where is the support that I have expected?
The only comment I received on an article supporting the Laotian operation was from an avowed dove—she did not agree with my stand, but she felt I presented it very well and brought out several good points. A letter to the editor printed in The New York Times, supporting the hard hats parade of 8 May 1970 was (in his own word) “peculiar.” Letters calling for a total military victory in Indochina have given me the privilege of receiving unsigned letters and Communist literature attempting to “cleanse” me of my “fascist, neo-Nazi” thoughts, and several pamphlets asking me to support the “peace” movement.
You see, Captain Parham, there are young Americans (I am 20 years old) who are willing to defend America. There are more ready to defend America than you may think. The news media in America today feels safer covering liberal and left wing news makers and allowing the conservatives and right wingers to wither on the vine. I am not famous nor am I rich, but I do believe that I can justly say that more of America’s college students support America than oppose her.
When one hears or sees a young American he does not agree with, I would suggest several guidelines to keep in mind while talking to him or just passing him on the street:
George Washington had long hair; General U. S. Grant and President Abraham Lincoln were not exactly clean shaven; and General George S. Patton, Jr. was not exactly a conservative dresser according to military regulations.
Extreme right wingism and unquestioning loyalty to national policy or goals is as wrong as constant derision of the same. Our country would have been better prepared for World War II had we listened to Colonel William Mitchell and Sir Winston Churchill.
Yes, America may not seem ready to “. . . repel boarders . . .” However, should the need ever arise, you will see many young Americans manning the defenses—the same young Americans who today are questioning our elected officials about America’s priorities, both domestic and foreign.
“The Career Officer as Existential Hero”
(See D. G. Deininger, pp. 18-22, November 1970; p. 91, April; pp. 99-100, June; and p. 97, July 1971 Proceedings)
Dr. Edwin Vieira, Jr., Consultant, U.S. Naval Ordnance Laboratory—Lieutenant (j.g.) Deininger would have our military leaders cast aside these “outmoded absolutes” to embrace instead a new vision of heroic fulfillment, with duty “internalized” in some charming, psychological morality play for which each individual’s ego is the sole critic. Were this incautious proposal not an arrant apology for moral anarchy, it would yet be objectionable as a descent into the perverse depths of emotional hedonism. The author projects as his heroic ideal the concept of “doing a job, and doing it well.” But he conveniently forgets to consider that all human activity is purposeful, directed at some end. Surely that end cannot be the merely personal, subjective satisfaction of having performed a labor. For then, what historical standard of value could ever be applied to any human endeavor? If such were the case, what objective distinguishments could ever be drawn between those military officers who serve the Western democracies and those who serve totalitarianism? Do they not all seek opportunities to work with people, to influence others, to master a discipline, to develop excellence, and to do battle with potentially overwhelming adversaries? Were not Hitler’s SS minions and the brutal Myrmidons of the Gestapo as much “existential heroes” by Lieutenant Deininger’s nebulous definition as those who struggled against them for six bloody years? Would his concept of duty and personal fulfillment vindicate their horrendous excesses, and does it justify the service of those officers who now stand in arms against our nation? Would he feel morally comfortable serving their despotic governments, or prosecuting the ignoble ends for which those governments now strive? If he would, then it Is hardly surprising that he finds himself at odds with the “dogmas” of American idealism. If he does not, then the logical inconsistency of his thesis commends it to the dust-bin of philosophical irrelevance.
Unfortunately for the author, there are no moral retreats, no remote existential hermitages aloof from the exigencies of history, where egotistical young men can salve consciences stricken by the pangs of an inchoate sense of unremitted duty by affirming “personally chosen, relative values.” Such values are the dross of history, not its essence. Life compels us all to make difficult moral choices, choices predicated on the world as we find it, necessarily external and impersonal. But we are never alone; centuries of history and the lessons of countless immortal lives serve as our wise preceptors. It is by adherence to that counsel, by appreciation of the historically vindicated ideals which inspirited those lives, that we can reconcile our personal fortunes and our inner compulsions to strive for righteousness with the demands of an apparently impersonal history.
But Lieutenant Deininger’s vision denies any need for this moral continuity between past and future. His “existential heroism” rejects any values more transcendent than some vague concept of commitment to a relative excellence. It derives from a personal morality so disjointed from humanity and its history as to be meaningless in a social context. Such atomization may be appropriate for rebellious intellectuals and other misfits, but it is hardly so for a great nation’s military leaders. Leaders must inspire their followers, not divide and confuse them. They must embody national honor, not attack the ideals upon which that honor rests. They must define “excellence” objectively, through service to the most noble aspirations of society, not subjectively, through the pursuit of the ephemeral rewards of emotional hedonism.
Thus, the lieutenant’s “new image” presents nothing more worthy than a chimerical vision primitive in its moral perspective and destructive in its social implications. Hopefully, his theories will be met with as little professional enthusiasm among our military leaders as they are supported in his essay by the weight of philosophical or historic logic.
An Optimist Looks at the Reductions
Lieutenant Commander H. J. F. Korrell,Jr., U. S. Navy, Commanding Officer, USS Agile (MSO-421)—As commanding officer of a small ship, I find the immediately-evident short-range results of the series of ship deactivations and personnel reductions disturbing. Many of us who were “brought up” during the relatively plentiful years since Korea are seeing entire operating/management philosophies rendered obsolete by the keen blade of economic “cuts.”
Some officers and enlisted members of the Navy interpret the current “trimming of the fat” as a foretaste of doom. I regard it as a series of fortunate necessities which have unequalled potential for the betterment of the Navy.
It seems quite likely that once the initial period of adjustment to the cuts passes, the reduced number of personnel will closely approximate the number of individuals required to man and support the ships remaining in commission and those which will be built.
The very process by which we become smaller will, of necessity, create a long-needed and, I hope, fierce competition for survival within the organization. Ideally, those who do not survive will take with them much of what has long been undesirable. Hopefully, those who remain will cause or allow many of the undesirable functions to lapse with the departure of the present incumbents.
The reading of Navy Regulations has always instilled in me a feeling of respect and awe for the profession which has as its zenith “command at sea.” Awe turns to dismay and frustration as I branch out into the myriad “amplifications and interpretations” which have proliferated since 1948. There has long been a trend toward providing too much specific direction as to how vice what to do. Guidance is appreciated, but advice has subtly become direction. Command authority to use on-board talent effectively has decreased, and flexibility has eroded, although responsibility has remained constant.
Guideline publications such as Shipboard Procedures (NWP-50A) have become clubs in the hands of inadequate inspection team members. The possibility that the personnel cuts will help to reverse this trend is exhilarating.
A major result of force reductions will be an increasing need to listen and respond to the ideas and requirements of those who will make up our more professional Navy Sound Concepts, such as firmer scheduling must not be permitted to backfire in their impact upon retention because of inept implementation. All too often, schedule changes will extend an operation for an extra day, but it is rare to see a ship arrive a day early because the job has been done better or earlier than expected.
Personnel management techniques and philosophies must be revised. The freezing of a young man to nearly fixed position relative to the others of his commissioning year group must go. He must be permitted to move within his group or he is likely to choose a career more rife with competition.
The time-honored and horribly-abused “can do” spirit of the Navy man desperately needs to be given a new lease on life. The “can do,” which has been so often camouflage for bad planning or worse support, must be eliminated. “Can do” must be allowed to regain its meaning. It is not—or should not be—the shrug of acceptance and disappointment when, after a long cruise, an engineman finds there are no funds to repair his distilling plant ashore. It should not be the desperation he knows in seeing computers purchased or rented to process records of the work hours he documents repairing equipment that should have been replaced. It should not consist of the many extra hours spent by storekeepers in the pointless summarization of usage and accounting data already submitted to the same list of addressees.
Perhaps the optimism I feel regarding the results of our cuts is premature. Undoubtedly there will be grave problems and extremely painful adjustments. Much will be lost that is useful and good. Perhaps those with vastly more experience than I, may see nothing more glorious than a return to a former condition—a return full circle to a type of Navy I have only heard about. Even if we are going merely full circle, we have the hope of having learned by the mistakes made the first time around.