For a Navy gravely concerned over a declining retention rate among its junior officers, every extension of service is a welcome vote of confidence and every separation counted as a silent rejection of a system that seems not to hear too well the questions nor consider too long the answers.
Today’s enlisted man comes into the Navy with a much higher level of education than his predecessors. He cannot be given simple answers to complex questions if he is to be motivated to re-enlist. The average junior officer, too, is a “thinking man,” a product of the same “information explosion” generation—and very often the same colleges—as the vocal advocates of the political right and left. Although the young officer is not given to the bizarre and often violent public demonstrations of his civilian counterparts, he nevertheless has many thoughts of his own.
Such thinking often takes the form of questions, questions which go unasked because of the seniority of the men who have the answers, or because the answer would be too complex to be dealt with in a short period of time, or because the would-be inquisitor suspects that his question will be answered by a “stock” answer, such as “The commodore wants it that way.”
After three or four years in the Fleet, young men who originally intended to make the Navy a career and who showed promise in their professional specialty, opt for a civilian pursuit. They leave, not always because they have a concrete offer from industry or science, but, more often, because their questions went unanswered, their potentially constructive thoughts went unexpressed or were expressed ineffectively. Their silent “votes” are cast as they depart.
Because the author has had limited exposure to submarines and naval aviation, these comments will be confined to the surface Navy.
Today’s young surface line officer knows not whether the 1980s will find him in a vibrant branch of our defense establishment or in an antiquated patrol force of militarily inconsequential ships. Current activity in ship systems procurement, although brighter now than in the recent past, seems still to suggest the latter.
To begin with, the impetus for a strong surface Navy does not seem to be as urgent as could be expected. During midshipman training, special recruiting teams explain the benefits of naval aviation, the submarine service, the Marine Corps, and occasionally the Supply Corps. The implication is that the run-of-the-mill officer will be good enough for the surface fleet.
Later, when he gets a billet in a surface combatant, the junior officer notes that the end result of many surface system procurement programs seem incomplete at best. This may be a reflection of a lack of pressure from top management to see the programs through, possibly a result of insufficient funds—funds diverted perhaps to another branch of the service that is thought to be more vital.
Some examples of this might be found in the area of weapons, where the 5-inch/54 is still regarded as a somewhat unreliable weapon a full 15 years after it joined the Fleet. The long-promised rocket-assisted projectile (RAP) came to the Fleet with a series of fire control slide rules and tactical firing limitations that all but precluded its use in anything but unopposed shore bombardment. The SAMID (ship’s anti-missile integrated defense) system, designed to confuse antiship missiles, seemed so full of “ifs” that one almost had to write the script for the enemy missile to see it function at all. An engineering officer might question the dearth of nuclear-powered ships, or why Britain’s Royal Navy and the U. S. Coast Guard, rather than the U. S. Navy, pioneered the Combined Diesel and Gas (CODAG) system. Operations personnel no doubt also have their areas of inquiry, but, rather than continue to look at systemic shortcomings, let us look at the ships themselves.
The Navy faced block obsolescence in the early 1960s. Rather than attempt a significant new construction program or cut the size of the Fleet, the Navy opted to retread old destroyers under the Fleet Modernization and Rehabilitation programs. Whether this economy reflected Congressional disinterest in the surface fleet is unimportant—but what is of significance is that it set the trend in U. S. naval thinking.
Prior to the early 1960s, a U. S. ship was considered to be the best or comparable to the best in any given class in the world’s navies. The retention of World War II vintage destroyers in the face of increasingly sophisticated Soviet air, surface, and submarine developments reflected the deliberate abandonment of parity with contemporary surface units by class, and the acceptance of complete vulnerability to air attack, in order to gain a large number of moderately capable ASW vessels.
Some later classes, such as the DDG-2 class, returned to the well-rounded design with some sophistication in each realm of combat. The bulk of our new construction, however, seems to omit at least one type of armament required to be truly “all purpose.” The latest class of DEs, although far outweighing earlier destroyers, mount only a single gun for both AAW and surface engagement, have but a single screw—hence no back-up propulsion system—and are incapable of speeds sufficient to escort carrier task forces.
One might ask: “Where do they fit in the military spectrum?” If the DEs are good for ASW only, why not escort with submarines from the older attack classes? These boats would probably provide better ASW detection and countermeasures by being in the attacking boat’s environment and could also be considered better countermeasures against possible surface attack. The minimal AAW capability of the DEs single 5-inch/54 would not be missed to any extent. Thus, the advantages of a surface combatant in the escort role—i.e., being able to engage air and surface threats at extended ranges as well as being able to conduct ASW operations—has in this case been negated for economic reasons. The junior officer is left asking, “At what point does economy yield to effectiveness?” How economical is it to escort convoys with ships that offer no air or surface protection to their charges or themselves?
The central surface ship question, then, is this: Why doesn’t the U. S. Navy arm all its surface warships with surface-to-surface missiles and thereby rid them of the essentially subservient appellation, “escort ship.” If this were done, enemy planners would not be free to concentrate their thoughts on U. S. carriers and submarines; they would have to consider how to locate and destroy a great many more potentially dangerous units.
The Knox-class economy syndrome leads to still further questions. If no surface-to-surface missile system similar to Styx or Gabriel has been purchased for the U. S. fleet, will the surface navy be denied a role it might easily fill in shore bombardment and antishipping? How will shore bombardment be conducted in the future in the face of anti-ship missiles unless we have missiles which are tactically accurate for troop support and outrange coastal defense missiles? How will ships defend task forces or convoys against surface-to-surface missiles in the immediate future? If the Soviets shadow our formations with “Kynda”-class missile frigates, why not station similar ships to shadow them or the amphibious ships they sometimes escort?
There are many other areas where improvements might be made in the present to the benefit of morale and operational effectiveness. For example, if ships are clearly incapable of performing a particular task, why subject their crews to senseless drills in that task? A case in point might be AAW exercises for old destroyers armed with the 5-inch/38 and Mk 37 gunfire control system. The 5-inch/38 gun, which originally joined the Fleet in the 1930s, was long a reliable surface and AAW weapon; but, with supersonic attack aircraft and stand-off weapons, is reliability alone the key?
Regardless of the gun’s limited range and the age and limitations of its fire control system, hundreds of 5-inch/38 armed ships are subjected to endless antiaircraft practice shoots which prove nothing more than that we could be moderately effective should the Soviets be cooperative enough to attack our fleet with prop planes traveling one at a time at about 165 knots in regular beam or end-on runs.
Fleet exercises are scarcely better—and often less realistic. Old destroyers may catch a glimpse of their intended opposition, but it is just that, a glimpse, as jets roar out of the haze totally undetected. In spite of this demonstration of combat ineffectuality, the would-be-stricken destroyer is allowed to continue in the exercise. Unfortunately, there would be no such reprieve in actual combat.
Why not scrap the old ships and place the surplus manpower thus created on a “blue and gold crew” manning system? The funds which would have been used in the increasingly expensive upkeep of ships having only moderate chances of combat success could then be thrown into research and development, increased crew salaries or other benefits for increased retention, and for funding the construction and upkeep of new ships. The possibility of “blue and gold” manning offers still more benefits than our current one-ship, one-crew system in terms of cyclic training, deployment, upkeep, and leave periods. Professional naval personnel could plan their lives around deployment schedules. Systems of maintenance and repair could be more easily regulated. The professionalism of crews and teamwork could be highly developed by participation in extensive study programs and mock-up training during nondeployed periods. This might pave the way to solving still another naval problem, that of “partial crew turnover.” Often, for example, a crew will complete pre-deployment training with a given fire control and gunnery team. At some point during the cruise, key personnel will be transferred or discharged. If a regular cyclic operating system were established and correlated with manning requirements, crew enlistments and extensions could be made to run from yard period to yard period. Recruits could be graduated and given designators to form complete units. When the ship entered a certain phase of her schedule, such as the end of a long overhaul, a new “blue” crew could take over as a unit, having completed thorough mock-up training. It could then go through refresher training as a cohesive unit which would be with the ship for a fixed period. Some months later, a new “gold” crew would be cycled in, the career-oriented personnel from each retiring crew being placed in a pool to season other crews then forming.
In spite of the admitted difference in mission, why don’t we make more of an effort to study and learn from the operations of Soviet naval vessels on a Fleetwide basis? It is well for senior intelligence officers and well-read individuals to be intimately aware of Russian ships, aircraft, weapons, doctrine, and tactics, but little of this filters down to the average OOD or even to the assistant operations officers. Few lieutenants (junior grade) know what the various classes of Soviet ships or aircraft look like, yet they may have to make instant reaction decisions based on recognition of such ship and aircraft types. Little has been done in explaining the purposes and capabilities of Soviet two-ship formations, the capabilities and limitations of standard Soviet weapons, and other factors of which all junior officers should be cognizant. For example, Soviet vessels reportedly use their radar very sparingly to avoid detection by electronic countermeasure equipment, while we electronically illuminate the seascape constantly; yet, there has never been any overall explanation as to why our doctrine is preferable to theirs.
This particular deficiency of officer training is characteristic of U. S. naval officer training in general. Nor does there seem to be any guarantee for periodic training whatever among the officer ranks. As a result, relatively few officers will be cycled through many schools, while other officers who are extremely busy in their assigned duties will often spend an entire tour without any formal school whatever.
In addition to this unfortunate circumstance, officer schools are often so superficial as to leave graduates with only a rough idea of the skills and technology involved in the men and equipment they must learn to supervise. It has long been the rule at sea that an officer does not participate in physical labor—but that he knows in detail how it should be done from personal experience gained in training. This seems to have fallen by the wayside as, for example, ensigns with English majors sometimes are given radar divisions for their first afloat tour. A system of officer attendance at enlisted schools, to learn the duties and skills of the rates within his division or department more thoroughly would benefit the Navy as a whole and would certainly improve enlisted junior officer relations as both would gain a greater understanding of each other’s problems.
There are countless other questions; Why are partial crews retained on board ships in port when one fully-manned “duty ship” and a four or five-man “fire watch” on the remaining ships present would suffice? Under existing procedures all ships in port are manned by approximately one-fourth of their normal complement. Should an emergency sortie be required, of what military value would be a ship at sea with only one quarter of her assigned personnel?
Another weapons-oriented question might center around why the Navy has done away with its low-level “flak” capability, especially when naval aviators can attest to its value in complementing missile defenses as used by the North Vietnamese?
Why is much of our training oriented around obsolescent systems, as in the case of gunnery schools which compare everything to the old 5-inch/38 rather than to the much newer 5-inch/54, and engineering courses which center around 600-lb., rather than 1,200-lb., steam systems?
Why develop and produce the DD-963 which has no AAW defense out to the range of aircraft standoff weapon ranges and no surface-to-surface capability against such things as the Styx-armed “Osa” and “Komar” boats?
Why does naval planning rely almost totally on carriers for offensive strikes and Fleet defense when surface ships will be “on their own” in many situations, especially on convoy duty and at times when most of the carrier air wings were away on strikes against high priority targets?
The foregoing and hundreds of other questions might easily have been answered had a means of communication been available for Fleet-wide expression. This is supposedly provided by the “Beneficial Suggestion” program, yet the author’s experience with an idea—regarding the use of tape recordings of killer whales and porpoises to be played over the underwater telephone to scare away sharks during shipboard recoveries of aviators—proved this system to be somewhat unwieldy at best. In this instance, ship’s office personnel uncovered several instructions, none of which was comprehensive, and a long debate arose as to whom such a suggestion should be forwarded since there was no central agency governing suggestions. The text of the plan was finally sent off almost six months after it was conceived and, as yet—a year later—no word has been received on its acceptance or rejection. Thus, the only one scared off was not a shark, but an inquisitive junior officer.
Much thought is given to naval planning and its implementation in the Fleet at all levels of Navy managements. But, despite periodicals dealing with special areas and the forum provided by the Naval Institute PROCEEDINGS, there remains a significant gap between views and intentions of senior naval officers and the thinking of the junior officers of the Fleet. This lack of communication leaves the average ensign or lieutenant (junior grade) at a loss to explain to an intelligent fire control technician—since he himself does not understand why—that technician should work long hours to keep operative a fire control system which would be next to useless in most tactical situations.
Perhaps, and with all due respect to rank and the wisdom and experience which rank represents, it is time for the U. S. Navy to examine its “generation gap,” to promulgate its overall goals and the methods and procedures it will use to attain them.
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A graduate of Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, Lieutenant (j.g.) Dengler received his commission through the Regular NROTC Program. He served as gunnery officer in the Pacific Fleet destroyer USS Brinkley Bass (DD-887). He participated in numerous shore bombardment missions prior to commencing a tour as a Naval Gunfire Liaison Officer and Spotter with the 1st Marine Division in Vietnam. He is now Assistant Test and Evaluations Officer at the Naval Weapons Laboratory, Dahlgren, Virginia.