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Commander M. R. Byington, Jr., U. S. Navy, Navigator, USS Intrepid (CVS- 11)—Lieutenant Myers’ presentation of Commander Lott’s Rules for Collision Prevention, represents a welcome attempt to define the point at which a vessel enters extremis and becomes "committed to collision.” While admitting to the Rules’ lack of infallibility, they are nevertheless described as "better and more justifiable than any system or guideline now being used to prevent collision.” Their "minimum safe range” is defined as the "minimum distance at which the approaching vessel may be allowed to close the watchstander’s vessel and still allow him the absolute minimum room to maneuver out of a possible collision.” The only parameters required to apply the Rules are collision angle and full rudder advance, both of which are readily available to the watch- standcr.
Despite some subtle hedging, Lieutenant Myers’ thesis is that the Rules permit a straightforward determination of the borderline between safety and danger, between premature and timely action. Unfortunately, such is far from the case. Any false sense of security thus engendered could be extremely hazardous and is cause for concern. As the privileged situation is far more agoniz
ing to the seafarer, it alone will be analyzed in this brief discussion. (It should be noted that discussion of privileged and burdened vessels implies that visibility allows the vessels to sight each other. Thus the International Rules of the Road apply. However, the self- defense maneuver principles to follow are valid regardless of visibility.)
Rigid adherence to Lieutenant Myers’ Rules by the privileged vessel fails to avoid collision in a significant category of cases; namely those involving the larger collision angles combined with moderate speed advantage in favor of the burdened ship. This allegation may not appear immediately evident; however, one has only to analyze a few cases for typical ship’s characteristics wherein collision angle is 120° or more, burdened ship speed is 20 to 25 knots, and own ship speed is 10 to 12 knots.
While quantitative results will vary from type to type, the time permitted for maneuver by the Rules is frequently sufficient only to alter the point of impact-assuming no assisting maneuver by the burdened vessel and no jackrabbit response from own ship’s engines. Using an example of 120° collision angle, 20- knot burdened vessel, 10-knot privileged vessel, and the tactical data tabulated by Lieutenant Myers, the following results can be approximated. At the 900-yard "Safe Range,” collision is but 60 seconds away. By then turning away, the privileged vessel alters the geographic point of impact something less than 100 yards,
delays it less than 10 seconds, and moves it only slightly further aft. Lieutenant Myers’ contention that experience has shown the Rules "to be approximately 80-to-90% effective in establishing effective 'miss distances’ ” appears ominous. Does this statement admit that they fail in 10-to-20% of the situations?
The oversights in the existing Rules are twofold. There is no allowance for the steadily varying dependency of Safe Range on both (1) collision angle and (2) speeds of both vessels. There is clearly no significance in his demarcation line two points abaft the beam (except as related to the definition of overtaking and to arcs of running lights). Safe Range must constantly increase with collision angle. Similarly, a substantial speed disadvantage makes it even less a privilege to be privileged, since Safe Range must increase correspondingly.
Recognizing these two vital relationships, it appears feasible to overcome the shortcomings previously cited. Employing own ship tactical data, a number of collision angle and speed combinations, and a deliberately selected "collision clearance,” it is possible to derive a family of "action range” curves. Collision clearance is a distance arbitrarily chosen to compensate for radar antenna or stadimeter to stern dimension, possible degradation of maneuvering characteristics, plotting imprecision, and delay in execution (See Figure 1). It is defined as the distance (d) own ship (antenna)
Figure 1 Definitions
will be from the point where collision would have occurred had neither ship maneuvered, at the time (tj) of that potential collision, assuming the privileged ship (sj) turns away at present speed upon reaching the "action range” (r) and the burdened ship (s2) makes no maneuver. It should be observed that the Closest Point of Approach (CPA) will never exceed collision clearance. It will often be considerably less because of finite ship dimensions and closure following the potential collision time. An illustrative analysis was made assuming both a privileged CV and the burdened vessel at 25 knots and collision angle of 105°. For a selected collision clearance of 500 yards, action range is 1,800 yards. However, CPA—at the stern—is approximately 130 yards and occurs some 50 seconds after tj. Collision clearance on the order of two ship lengths is thus suggested for preliminary analysis.
A complete technical description of the methodology involved is beyond the present scope. Suffice to say, it is compatible with hand calculation and plotting. A key assumption is that advance, transfer, and path through the water arc practically constant at slow to moderate speeds (approximately 15 knots and below). Hence, all speed combinations can be simplified to a "speed ratio” of burdened to privileged vessel speeds. The resulting polar graph permits action range determination using only collision angle and speed ratio as parameters. Figure 2 is an illustrative example for
the Intrepid-class CV employing a 500- yard collision clearance. For comparison, full rudder advance varies from 670 to 790 yards for this class.
Captain J. G. Denham, U. S. Navy—The author’s remarks apply only to the International Regulations for Preventing Collision at Sea (33-USC-1651).
The application of Inland Rules of the Road (33-USC-154), article 18, Rule III, provides specific action if either vessel fails to understand the course or intention of the other; also section 80.7 (b) of the Pilot Rules for Inland Waters, requires ". . . both steam vessels shall be stopped and backed if necessary, etc.”
The curriculum of the Emergency Shiphandling Course normally emphasizes this important difference in the use of collision prevention.
"Saturation Diving”
{See R. C. Shcats, pp. 54-61, September 1972 Proceedings)
Commander William I. Milwee, Jr., U. S. Navy, Assistant Supervisor of Diving, Naval Ship Systems Command— Chief Sheats has given us an excellent brief of the history and a basic discussion of saturation diving. As diving, particularly employment of saturation techniques, is a rapidly developing technology, some amplification of his remarks are in order.
Saturation diving has progressed from a laboratory curiosity to an operational capability in a short time. Saturation techniques are now in routine use in both commercial and naval diving operations. Particular impetus to the development of field application of saturation diving has come from the offshore oil industry, so that while the U. S. Navy has provided basic information and technology and has led the way to deeper depths, industry has much more practical experience. We sec here an example of gainful functioning of the much maligned military-industrial complex; technology developed in response to military requirements has a direct commercial application; in return, the experience gained in the field by commercial operators may be applied to benefit naval operations. An advantage often overlooked is that in applying this technology, American industry is placed in a most favorable competitive situation with foreign diving services organizations; with American diving companies working for foreign oil
companies, a favorable balance of payments situation occurs.
While the bottom-placed habitat, free of all surface support is extremely attractive, the state of the art, including practical and economic considerations of habitat implantment and support dictate their use for the present and immediate future be limited to relatively shallow research work. Diving systems for support of other operations invariably em-
ploy surface-mounted living and decompression facilities with a Personnel Transfer Capsule (PTC) to transport the divers between the work site and the living chamber. Using this system, saturation dives of nearly 40 days have been made, and dives of 30 days have become routine. Thirty days is considered by many to be the maximum for saturation dives if severe performance decrements are to be avoided. Diver lock-out sub- mersibles also appear attractive at first glance, but offer additional complication in life support and handling which has limited their use to date.
Operational saturation diving became a reality in the U. S. Navy with the operational evaluation (Op Evals) of the Mark I Deep Dive System (DDS) in 1970 and that of the Mark II DDS in 1972. The dives made during these Op Evals, 870 feet in 1970 and 1,010 feet in 1972, represent the deepest dives yet carried out in the open sea. While the U. S. Navy has an operational capability to
1.0feet, the depths which can ultimately be reached have not been determined. An effective and vigorous experimental diving program is necessary to determine ultimate depth limits and to identify and solve the complex technical problems associated with deep diving. It is not generally appreciated that life support in deep-diving is much more difficult than life support in deep space. As has been pointed out, artificial mixed gas atmospheres with very low oxygen percentages must be employed. For example, a French experimental dive to
2.0feet used a 0.65% oxygen gas mix. Instrumentation to detect and control the oxygen partial pressure to 0.4 atmospheres in a total pressure of approximately 60% atmospheres must be precise, fast-acting, and reliable. The development of galvanic oxygen partial pressure has been a great aid. Detection
ENTER THE FORUM
Regular and Associate Members are invited to write brief comments on material published in the Proceeding and also to write brief discussions on any topic of naval interest for possible publication in these pages. A primary purpose of the Proceedingi is to provide a place where ideas of importance to the Navy can be exchanged. The U. S. Naval Institute pays an honorarium to the author of each comment or discussion published in the Proceeding!.
and analysis of other contaminant gases, particularly carbon dioxide, is of equal interest. Carbon dioxide partial pressure must be kept at levels which do not present physiological problems for the divers. Robust, yet accurate, sensors are required. Most of the devices now in service can be considered barely adequate.
Communications remain one of the most severe problems in deep-diving. The destruction of the voice in the helium atmosphere is so complete that analysis and restoration by electronics is extremely difficult. Attempts to build helium speech processors using various types of electronic circuits have met with moderate success, so that voice continues to be the primary means of communications between divers and between divers and their topside support. Considerable advancement in the state of the art is required if truly effective communications are to be obtained.
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90 U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, August 1973
Thermal protection of the diver continues as a most serious life support consideration. Inadequate or ineffective thermal protection can lead not only to a loss of efficiency, but also to severe physical problems and even death. Cold and the reduction of a diver’s ability to function and think clearly has been a major contributing factor in several diving accidents. Surface-supplied hot water suits have become generally accepted by American commercial and naval divers as the best available method of thermal protection. Electrical heating has not, in general, been satisfactory, whether the power was supplied by diver-carried battery packs or through umbilicals. Electrically-heated suits arc difficult to manufacture and maintain, and are subject to failure. There is inadequate information on electric field behavior and electric shock hazards in water to allow widespread use of electrically-heated suits in the U. S. Navy. Diver-worn heat sources are of interest, though for saturation diving, heat supplied from the PTC habitat or surface seems most practical. Diver-carried heat sources would have their primary application to special warfare swimmers. I must take issue with Chief Sheats concerning the promise shown by the radioisotope heater. As he has pointed out, the heater is large and requires extensive shielding; it is also prohibitively expensive, and the use
of an isotope necessitates Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) licensing and other controls that are not compatible with at-sea working diving operations. No work is currently in progress or contemplated using radioisotope heaters. The most promising concept for a closed-circuit diver hot-water heating system employs a heater which oxidizes a metallic wool at a controlled rate.
Tests conducted at the Navy Experimental Diving Unit in 1970 verified theoretical postulations that heat lost through respiration was sufficient to cause debilitating effects upon the diver. Subsequent work has allowed the establishment of minimum inspired gas temperatures as a function of depth and the development of breathing gas heating systems for all types of deep-diving breathing apparatus.
Techniques developed in at-sea operations have shown that when making excursions below the depth of saturation, the most satisfactory method is to pressure the PTC to excursion depth so that the diver is a minimum distance from his refuge, and minimum time is lost by the diver in transiting from the PTC to the work site. I must take violent exception to Chief Sheats’ emphasis on an untethered diver working at great depth. Basic safety considerations require a diver to be provided with life support systems with redundancy, and that he be provided with a navigation system which ensures that he can return when his work is complete. By far the most accurate, reliable, and simplest navigation system is a tether to the PTC. As a diver, I must confess extreme reluctance to swim away from the PTC in cold, dark water without a tether. While excursions below saturation depth are both possible and practical, excursions will be made wherever possible by pressurizing the bell to, or nearly to, the excursion depth.
As we will be diving deep with * tether in the foreseeable future, the push-pull or positive-negative compressor system, using a ventilated helmet seems more attractive than diver-carried breathing systems. The system frees the diver from a bulky breathing apparatus, and provides him with an environment in which he can concentrate on the job at hand rather than the simple me
chanics of staying alive. The concept
Comment and Discussion 91
Hooding divers’ lungs with hyper- oxygenated liquid solutions is not by any means a practical concept for the foreseeable future, and is not being seriously considered in work sponsored by the Navy.
In planning saturation dives, saturation diver systems, or diving research programs, one should never lose sight that the basic objective of putting a man in the water is to accomplish a useful work task. To this end, all development of equipment and systems should be directed toward making the diver more effective. Every effort should be made not to encumber him with unnecessary equipment, but to simplify the equipment that he works with. As we move downward in the ocean environment, it is imperative to remember why we are there, if we are to use the tool of saturation diving most effectively.
What’s Going On Down There?”
(.See W. H. Kumm, pp. 37-45, April 1973 Proceedings)
Captain Joseph K. Taussig, Jr., U. S. Navy {Retired)—My interest in the subject was greatly stimulated in 1963, when I was hired as an oceanographic consultant by Bell Aerosystems Corporation. Among the "assets” held by Bell at that time was the first American-built small submersible, designated the PC3-X, and tamed the Sub Rosa. This little craft had been tested at sea to a depth of 225 feet, and had been "engineered” to automatically abort a mission by attaining Positive buoyancy if she went below 150 feet.
In the decade between the PC3-X and today, a great deal of money has been spent on "small submersibles” and, save for a handful of these vehicles, the returns on these investments have been ncgligible.
Those vehicles that have paid off were designed for, and have invariably oper- ated in, relatively shallow depths. All the others have had their "moments of glory”—fleeting moments, when they Performed a dive or a mission—before being put up on blocks as scientific Otiosities and industrial white elephants.
What went wrong was that the science community, understandably ob
sessed with probing ever deeper—600,
1,500,4,0 feet, whatever, wherever the bottom—devoured the financial lollipop, leaving the operational people with only the stick to gnaw on.
During the period under discussion, the Navy embarked in a series of Sealab programs to "put man into the sea.” "Successful” accomplishments of Sealab 1 and Sealab II at shallow depths, convinced the scientists that Sealab III was "ready” for 600-foot depths. This programs’ ending was prompted in great part by the death of one of the participants during a preliminary phase. Sealab IV was "on the drawing boards,” when this tragedy occurred.
Millions upon millions of dollars had been spent. Yet, today, if man lives in the sea at even 50 feet for any length of time measurable in days, it is still a widely acclaimed accomplishment.
In exploring the bottoms of the seas, the scientist has been permitted to bite off more than he could chew. We must open our eyes to this fact. And our eyes can be at least as useful below the seas as above them. They could be, and should be, our principal sensor under the seas.
We have all sorts of narrow beam sonic devices, calibrated in fractions of degrees. Yet, the resolution constraints of these marvelous devices are so relatively crude that, if the human eye were limited to the same resolution, we would be judged legally blind. One of the grossest problems of Sealab II was its emplacement on the bottom. All of the sensors used indicated that the bottom was flat and absolutely horizontal, yet the Sealab II was tilted, adding tremendous burdens to the occupants.
To attain detail of specific significance, the camera is now our major underwater sensor. Yet, unlike the camera, the eye can be panned and tilted by reflex, and the information sorted and stored by that marvelous computer, the human brain.
My personal association with small submersibles unfortunately spanned only the first seven years of this capability, as it became obvious that there was no room in the fiscal palace for an advocate of a step-by-step learning curve. The money was all earmarked for a specific "mission,” and nobody was interested in learning how to do by actually "doing.”
But in these seven years, I was able to observe a lot of operational accomplishments, attained through the expenditures of so little money as to be embarrassing.
I saw the PC3-X trace submarine cables under extremely adverse conditions. I saw the PC3-B, a later model, retrieve torpedoes and find 17 pieces of the bomber which lost the Palomares H-bomb; I saw PC3-As assisting the Army and Air Force in retrieving missile parts in the Kwajalein and Eniwetok lagoons; I saw the PC3-X approach, hover, inspect, and then direct a swimmer to bottom-moored mines; I watched the PC3-B inspect the sides of the Tongue of the Ocean to prove that the Fathometer traces failed to show that the cables were being laid over an overhanging cliff; I swam with the PC3-X, and found that she could actually tow me faster than I could hang on—and could even feed me air from inside the hull.
Picky, picky, picky little "accomplishments” these, alongside the glamor of the Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle (DSRV), built subsequent to the loss of the Thresher; or the exploration of the Scripp’s Canyon off La Jolla; or the "cruise” of the Ben Franklin along the Gulf Stream; or the final recovery of the H-bomb by the Alvin and the Alumi- naut.
By 1970,1 had exhausted my capabilities to plead with "the Navy” to put two or three shallow-depth, small submersibles in the hands of operationally- oriented young officers and sailormen, and, uninhibited by scientists, let them start to find out what the actual capabilities and limitations might be. That is the way we are really going to find out "What’s Going on Down There?”—or, more properly, how we will determine "What We Can Do Down There?”
"Buoys Will Be Buoys”
(See ). F. Meade, pp. 74-79, November 1972;
and p. 108, March 1973, Proceedings)
William H. Mahler, Chief Engineer, SS American Apollo—Regarding Ernest Brown’s comments in March, for nigh onto 28 years, the standard practice in the American merchant marine, when
a pilot is on board, has always been that positions are fixed by taking bearings on fixed objects (tanks, towers, stacks, and the like) rather than buoys. All too often, buoys have been found to be out of position, and with true channel depths not always as represented on the latest charts, the merchant vessel, frequently drawing close to 30 feet (we do our best to ease the balance of payments), constantly runs the risk of grounding. During periods of reduced visibility, it is mandatory that buoys are used—but always with caution.
The use of a drafting machine (gadget) is as dated as four-stack destroyers. Yachting suppliers peddle them as "salty” instruments to weekend sailors, who will buy anything touted as "professional.” We use parallel rulers and simple triangles only because they have been proven to be the quickest method of establishing position. Their use has been found safe and practical.
Pictorial—"Ship Camouflage (WW II): Deceptive Art"
(See R. F. Sumrall, pp. 67-81, February 1973 Proceedings)
Captain W. J. Ruhe, U. S. Navy (Retired)— Ship camouflage as "deceptive art” reached its high watermark on 7 January 1944. But, unpredictably it was something other than the scientific research "measures,” described by Robert
Sumrall, which can be credited with the ultimate in deception.
The USS Crevalle (SS-291) had started from Fremantle, Australia, in her secure 21 camouflage coating. But en route to the South China Sea, however, her skipper decided that some additional black striping on top of the haze-gray paint would be useful "to help confuse the enemy.” So, while still south of Lombok Strait and Japanese-held territory, he put four seamen down on deck in broad daylight to "slap some black paint on her topsides, to really fool them.” The seamen carried sketches of the sort of stripe-job desired, but a degree of creativity and haste in applying the paint was to be allowed, because of the great tenuousness of the situation. At any instant, a Japanese reconnaissance flying boat might be spotted cruising down the eastern part of the Indian Ocean, forcing a quick clearing of the decks and a crash dive.
In whirlwind fashion, the four men completed their slap-dash job and climbed below, after prophesying, "The Japs will have a helluva time telling who we arc, now!”
Several days later, we had messages indicating that we’d pass the USS Puffer (SS-268) that night and later, the USS Ray (SS-271) as they headed home, down Macassar Strait after successful war patrols. Almost on schedule, around midnight, our radar picked up a closing contact. The low, knife-thin silhouette
of a submarine could be picked out of the heavy curtain of blackness. The skipper promptly blinked our recognition signal on a hand signal-gun to prevent any misunderstandings. The black shape shied away from the Cn- talk's closing course and didn’t reply until it was passing abeam at about
4,0 yards. Then a tiny shielded light blinked out, "I hope you left some liquor for us, we’re thirsty.” That was typical of the Puffer’s skipper.
All we knew about the Ray was that she’d shot all of her torpedoes and was headed home in our direction. So, when at dawn another submarine was spotted heading for the Crevalle, the skipper again opened up with a light to exchange recognition signals. The dimly- blinked reply from the approaching sub seemed to look right, but it was virtually unreadable in the gathering light. And, alarmingly, the sub continued to head for us as though wanting to get off an important message at close range. At less than 2,000 yards, it became apparent to the men in the Crevalle's bridge that the closing submarine was much smaller than a U. S. sub, and might be a British or Dutch boat well off station. But even this assumption was rapidly dispelled as the odd-looking submarine suddenly turned broadsides to the Crevalle. There was a horrifying yell from our port lookout. "He’s got a rising sun {sainted on his conning tower!”
Comment and Discussion 93
Immediately the Crevalle was swung hard to starboard to point her stern towards the enemy sub. As the stern tubes were brought to bear, two torpedoes were fired. The wakes of the torpedoes ran to intercept the apparently unsuspecting submarine as she continued on a broadside course. But short of her, both torpedoes exploded prematurely, throwing up a geyser of water and bits of flying shrapnel. ("Damn the torpedoes” had become by then a familiar expression in U. S. subs in World War II.)
The enemy sub dove before the Cre- tW/f could reload, and no shots were taken at us. There was no explanation for the peculiar actions of what must have been a Japanese Ro-type submarine °n patrol, even though later we carefully ^constructed all that had happened.
Almost two months later, and a day before entering Fremantle on return from war patrol, a team of side cleaners »as put down on deck to get the submarine cleaned up "for entering port.” I was first down on deck and the port side of the Crevalle was revealed to me 'dth a bit of shock. It was suddenly dear to me why the Japanese submarine bad thought we were a friendly boat— just another Japanese submarine, well °ff station. Black swaths of paint haphazardly streaked the gray sides of the superstructure, but that shouldn’t have fooled the enemy sub. In the center of 'he conning tower, however, there was a big rectangle with a black rising sun Nnted in the middle of it!
ASW and the Modern Submarine”
(5* S. E. Wright, Jr., pp. 62-68, April 1973 Pnctu/ings)
Hilton F. Speers— In May 1972, when the Proceedings, Naval Review Issue came out, i immediately noticed Captain R. H. Pith’s article "ASW—The Crucial Challenge.” My attention was originally 'Wn to the article by the accompany- lng photograph: a (jMrwg-class de- S'foyer, a couple of S-2 aircraft, and a helicopter, all working as a team to prosecute a submarine contact. The de- stfoyer in the picture was the USS Oz- °otttn (DD-846), in which I served for two tors and I remembered being on the
bridge during that particular ASW exercise in 1963, one of the very few in which the Ozboum had services of both aircraft and a submarine.
I was a fresh-caught ensign at the time, and held the main propulsion assistant (MPA) billet. But during the ASW exercise in the picture, I was acting as JOOD. Actually, I was bridge phone talker for our ASW officer, who was the OOD during Condition IAS. I remember being terribly confused by the whole operation, but assumed that everyone else on the ASW team knew precisely what to do, how to do it, and what to do it with in order to "kill” that submarine.
During the course of my tour in the Ozboum, however, I learned that the ASW picture was not as rosy as I had thought. The Ozboum had only recently completed a FRAM overhaul, and she boasted all the latest ASW equipment: AsRoc, a DASH hangar, homing torpedoes, and best of all, a big SQS-23 sonar. Regrettably, all that fine, new equipment seemed to contribute very little to our effectiveness as an ASW vessel. Detection ranges were short; thousands or even hundreds of yards, instead of the miles our ASW officer hoped for. Our tracking capabilities, despite our fascinating new attack computer on the bridge, were limited; we usually had to rely on attack methods developed for use by World War II ships equipped with "searchlight” sonar. And our fearsome AsRoc, with its vaunted "standoff” capability, was mostly decoration—we could not stand off from a target without losing contact. But I was an engineer, so I seldom thought much about ASW. I assumed that the ASW experts were busy solving the problems the Ozboum encountered when she tried to deal with a submarine. Then in 1965, I left active duty. After that, the only experience I had with ASW came when I attended CIC school in San Diego during a month-long active duty training (AcDuTra) tour in 1970. I noticed at that time that the classroom theory and the "practical” training in the mock-up were strikingly similar to the elementary ASW training I had received in the Ozboum.
Then in 1972, I read Captain Smith’s article in the Naval Review Issue. According to the article, ASW still suffered from
most of the problems I remembered from the early 1960s. One statement of Captain Smith’s seemed particularly pertinent: "ASW teams of ships and aircraft have 'few strengths and many grave weaknesses,’ of which the most important is that the destroyer 'has needed the strength of the others in the team to have a reasonable chance of survival, drawing more benefits from the association than she has given.’”
As Captain Smith went on to point out, most of the destroyer’s shortcomings as an ASW weapon, stemmed from her doctrinaire dependence on high-power, low-frequency "long-range” sonar as the primary search and attack sensor. I remember the Ozboum’s experience with her new sonar. Even then, we were painfully aware that a submarine could hear us coming much farther away than we could detect her; we knew that our sonar was, in effect, the sub’s primary acquisition and tracking device. And even if we detected a sub, we could not hold contact much beyond 1,500 yards—not much greater than the sonar ranges achieved by World War II destroyers. In fact, the slight increase in range made possible by the "23” sonar may have been a disadvantage. A submarine officer once told our ASW officer that it was better for a destroyer to stay about 1,000 yards of the sub being attacked, because the short range complicated the sub’s fire-control problem. Stand off outside that close-in circle, the submariner said, "You’re setting yourself up for a torpedo.”
Captain Smith’s article seemed to pinpoint an important aspect of the ASW problem—the destroyer herself, relatively blind to the sub, yet easily detectable by the sub, and terribly vulnerable to the sub’s torpedoes.
Then came the April 1973, Proceedings, and Lieutenant S. E. Wright’s article. Lieutenant Wright pointed out, and suggested a solution for, another major segment of the ASW problem: lack of training. Reading the article, I again thought back to my experiences on active duty in the Ozboum. Our ASW officer was an ambitious young lieuten- ant (j.g.); he worked hard and tried to do a good job. But even at the time, we all knew that he lacked both experience and training although he had been to the ASW school in San Diego. Most
of the other officers had even less training than the ASW officer. Then too, we all had other pressing duties—engineering, gunnery, communications, and the like. With the best willin the world, we were simply not capable of making the Ozboum into an effective ASW ship. So we went about our duties, fondly hoping that "they” (the Department of Defense, CNO, somebody) were solving the problems of ASW.
It now appears that "they” were not making much progress toward an effective ASW force in the U. S. Navy. Doctrine, tactics, and equipment apparently remain at virtually the same level as that when I left the Ozboum in 1964. The ASW situation, it seems, has not improved.
Captain Smith and Lieutenant
Wright, however, sounded one hopeful note with their respective articles: knowledgeable observers, in this case the two authors, have identified two major problem areas and have suggested ways to overcome those problems. They have opened the way to fresh new lines of thought among Navy men—and others—who are concerned with the ASW problem. There is at least a chance that those new lines of thought will result in action, and eventually will help the Navy build a really credible antisubmarine warfare capability. We who revere our Navy’s proud heritage and recognize its important role in modern international relations will continue to hope for that eventuality.
"Secrecy in Government”
(Set R. L. Taylor, pp. 72-77, March 1973
Proceedings)
Lieutenant Marc T. Apter, U. S. Naval Reserve-R—Vice Admiral Taylor makes a very strong case for secrecy in the conduct or our Foreign and Department of Defense Affairs. But, this is the only part of the secrecy in government topic now in the news, in which there is very little argument. The debate is really over whether the press has a right to information about domestic issues, and also whether the press can be stopped for political reasons from printing disclosures of domestic corruption.
This has nothing to do with the Navy, and should not be in the Proceedings.
Smaller, Yes . . . More Professional?
Lieutenant CommanderJohn P. Kelly, U. S. Navy—"The Navy announced today the retirement of an additional 40 ships.”
"This is to advise you that the projected rotation date for your reassignment ... is being adjusted. This action has been necessitated by the constraints imposed by the severely limited permanent change of station (PCS) funds available now and in the foreseeable future.”
Implicit in those two quotations are the factors of reduced selection opportunity, reduced command opportunity, lengthened time in grade, delays between selection and promotion—and even promotion freezes. For the past several years, our increasingly severe money crunch has resulted in a broad range of force reductions, and disheartening personnel policies.
Still, no matter how bleak things may seem, some good may come out of the present sticky officer personnel situation in the Navy, and we may emerge from our present quandary with a smaller, more professional officer corps. And that’s good! But we won’t get such a corps with words alone. It will be smaller; it will not necessarily be more professional.
The problem obviously, is broad and complex; any approach to it will of necessity be narrow and admittedly over-simplified. Having said this, let us consider one of the most neglected aspects of personnel management in the Navy—career planning.
The U. S. Navy, as all the Services, employ a "pyramid” system of officer personnel manning. In the past, the base of the officer pyramid for a given year group depended largely on the size of the Navy at the time of service entry, and the future size of the navy, as seen in the eyes of the personnel planners. As a year-group advanced up the pyramid, its size shrank, but at a healthy rate, and ideally there were sufficient billets available to offer good prospects for advancement, without sacrificing healthy competition.
In 1968, the Navy had 932 ships on its active roster; today that figure has fallen well below the 600 mark. Such drastic reductions were not foreseen
when the bulk of today’s lieutenants, lieutenant commanders, and commanders entered service. Such accelerated unanticipated reductions invalidate the pyramid for a given year group. There are simply not enough billets to permit a desirable advancement opportunity.
To complicate the problem further, the Navy has, over the past several years, resorted to massive "early out” programs to meet end-strength constraints, thereby hacking away at certain year groups at the base of the pyramid. At the same time, senior officers in oversized year groups must be retained because of tenure, thereby cutting promotion flow to a trickle. The net effect of the foregoing will be glaring imbalances in the officer personnel structure fot years to come, and staggering problems for the individual and the personnel planners with respect to career planning-
Career planning in its broadest sense encompasses both our careers in the Navy and our plans following retirement. As such, career planning must be recognized as an individual responsibility—not that of the Bureau of Naval Personnel. It is incumbent on the individual officer to analyze, periodically, his talents, his performance, and his potential in the light of what lies ahead both within and without the Navy.
Each of us should subject ourselves a critical, self-appraisal. Where have 1 been? What did I accomplish? How well did I accomplish it in comparison with my peers? What were my needs and motivating factors when I entered service? What are they now? Have they changed? The needs and motivations of a bachelor ensign and a married lieutenant will probably differ greatly even for the same individual.
Are my skills and knowledge increasing, or am I just drifting? What quah- ties are selection boards looking fof- Where do I fit in to the operational- technical-managerial system? What 15 the system? For lack of better yardstick- a recent letter from the Secretary of thc Navy to a selection board is instructive
If, as hopefully will be the case, the Navy still meets our needs and motivations, we must determine how to mikc ourselves more competitive. As is true of any organization, the Navy is bes1 served by personnel with short-term and long-term goals, personnel whose pe('
Comment and Discussion 95
formance is stimulated because it is directed, personnel who are not drifting or motivated by the security blanket syndrome.
Unfortunately, the self-analysis that I espouse cannot be accomplished in an information vacuum—at least not that portion of career planning pertaining to our futures in the Navy. The morsels and tidbits appearing in Navy Times and an occasional BuPers notice are not enough. The best service the Bureau of Naval Personnel can perform for the Fleet is: "Tell it like it is,” even if this mans telling us only how bad is bad and at least shutting down the rumor mill.
Each and every officer should be apprised of each and every indicator pertaining to his or her competitiveness within the Navy. This includes the degree of success, or lack of success, before all screening boards regardless of their nature; it includes the command opportunity and advancement opportunity for the individuals year group by designator; and, if available, it includes a percentage ranking based on performance.
Secondly, an officer cannot plan a career at all if the promotion flow is cut off to the point of absurdity—which it is approaching. The top policymakers must take whatever steps are necessary to restore a healthy rate of promotion flow. The steps that have appeared to date, such as the temporary waiver of time in grade before retirement for captains, commanders, and warrant officers, may prove to be too little too late.
Third, professional career counsellors must be provided. A small cadre of retired officers with a broad range of experience could be hired just as retired officers work in the Navy junior ROTC program. This cadre could be continually briefed on a broad range of subjects affecting career planning: force reductions, new construction plans, graduate education plans, to name a few. Among other advantages, as retired officers they would no longer be in competition with the people they are advising as is often now the case.
Fourth, some imagination must be shown in regard to personnel management. Radical changes may be needed. Going down to the sea in Navy ships is unfortunately a one-company occupa
tion lacking the advancement mobility of outside industry. Perhaps the sacred "number” concept must be modified to provide that mobility. If year-group 62 is overstocked with surface warfare officers, perhaps a select few should be transferred to year group 61, or some volunteers transferred to year-group 63. Such transfers would be designed to restore balance and improve competitiveness and should not be confused with deep selection or a passover. Thus, career planning is an individual responsibility, but the individual cannot do it alone.
"Civilianism, Civilianization,
and the Military Services”
(See J. C. Sandsberry, pp. 62-67, November
1972; and pp. 95-96, June 1973 Proceedings)
Norman N. Rubin—Having completed 32 years of a career, including wartime service as an Air Force officer and subsequent Reserve time, it was with a sad heart that I read the article by Captain Sandsberry. There was so much of the old arrogance and blindness which I had seen in the Air Force, and had almost forgotten during a subsequent score of years at the Naval Air Systems Command.
Captain Sandsberry criticizes the burgeoning staff of the Secretary of Defense (SecDef), but ignores the top-heavy flag levels of the military. Might not the growth of SecDef’s staff have been forced upon him by the attitudes of the military? Forrestal was forced to turn to the CIA to adjudicate conflicting Service demands bolstered by Intelligence "estimates,” which were in some cases inflated by a factor of ten (I was there). Cost over-runs have been swept under the carpet by military managers, forcing the establishment of civilian watch-dog agencies.
The Captain blames "Mr. John Doe, GS-15 or GS-16 ... a recent college graduate.” No, brother Sandsberry, recent graduates do not get to be GS-15 or GS-16 any sooner than recent midshipmen become admirals.
And the statement that "As a staff worker ... he (our GS-16) faces no major consequences for his errors.” Dear me! Anybody who gets his boss, military or civilian, out on a limb, is in for
trouble. And look at the inference that "professional military experience and judgment” are subjugated to heaven- knows-what. Well, I-know-what, and so does Captain Sandsberry; he describes how officers retire to civilian (Civil Service) positions. Of the several hundred Civil Service people I have known over 32 years of government service, about two-thirds are "double-dippers,” veterans, or Reserve officers (including myself). It would be safe to say that the Captain’s opponents are mostly men of military background! And that roster includes Truman, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Johnson, and Nixon.
Captain Sandsberry’s statement that even in the lower echelons (my natural habitat) civilians over-ride the military is nonsense. One of the things which has kept me in DoD for 32 years has been the satisfaction of working with the fine gentlemen (most of them, anyway) of the military establishment. And I am sure that mutual respect and cooperation is the hallmark of civilian and military relations in the "lower echelons.”
I guess I must have missed out on those GS-i4s and GS-15S who "inevitably become 16s, 17s and iss,” enabling them to look down on the military. What never-never-land contains these magic promotions? I’d like to transfer to that outfit.
As to the connotations of the uniform: "allegiance, personal pride of endeavor,”—aren’t us Poor Foolish Civilians allowed any of that?
Incidentally, I wish that I had flight pay for every hour I have logged in military aircraft (flight test, at that) with neither flight pay nor insurance.
. Ruler of the Queen’s Navee . .
(See L. M. Kryske, pp. 72-80, January 1973 Proceedings)
Captain S. IF. Roskill, Royal Navy (Retired)— Ensign Kryske is not quite correct to say that "Churchill must be given credit for providing the British Navy with wings by founding the Royal Naval Air Service.” If he will refer to Documents Relating to the Naval Air Service, edited by myself for the Navy Records Society (1969), he will see that
up to the outbreak of war in 1914, Churchill was strongly in favor of preserving the original unity between the naval and military wings of the Royal Flying Corps. In paragraph 5 of Document 28 (page 86 of the book), Churchill stated on 12 March 1913, "I am not prepared at present to accept in principle the idea of a separation from the War Office so far as the Royal Flying Corps is concerned.”
It is true that on 1 July 1914, a Royal Warrant was issued approving the formation of a Royal Navy Air Service (RN'AS) and that date has frequently been given as the date when the Air Service was founded (the mistake appears in The War in the Air, the official history, and has often been repeated). A Royal Warrant, however, is an authorization, not an executive order; and in fact on the day on which the one referred to was signed, the Admiralty issued a circular letter in which the naval air service was described as "forming the Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps” (Document 47, page 156 of my book). Not until 29 July 1915 did that department issue a Weekly Order stating, "The Royal Naval Air Service is to be regarded in all respects as an integral part of the Royal Navy” (Document 72, pages 212 and 213 of my book). Hence, the true date of the creation of the RNAS is clearly established—and it was some six weeks after Churchill left the Admiralty.
Ensign Kryske, evidently relying on Churchill’s own memoirs, exaggerates and ante-dates his enthusiasm for the aeroplane rather than the airship. It is
true that after the outbreak of war, Churchill took that view strongly; but in the pre-war period, he accepted the production of airships without demur— though possibly with misgivings (Document 31, First Report of the Air Committee, dated 7 June 1913, pages 101 and 102 of my book and Document 41, Second Report of same body, dated 6 April 1914, especially paragraph 14, page 130 of my book), and there is no sign of any opposition from him to the production of airships, when the Committee of Imperial Defence considered these Reports.
"Blue Water Monitor”
(Set J. A. Knowles, Jr., pp. 78-89, March 1973
Proceedings)
Charles W. Schedel,Jr.— According to the reference book, British Battleships, by the late Oscar Parkes, the voyage of the Miantonomoh to Europe inspired the British Navy to build several large seagoing monitors, the Devastation, Thunderer, and Dreadnaught.
The design of these ships differed somewhat from that of the American monitors in that the turrets and a small superstructure were mounted atop an armored breastwork located on the main deck. The design of these breastwork monitors was intended to overcome what was then considered to be one of the major defects of a seagoing monitor-habitability. It was reported that the crew of the Miantonomoh reached Europe in a most debilitated state as the result of crossing the Atlantic with all
hatches closed and inadequate ventilation. It was felt that the design of the breastwork monitors with their hatche raised above the level of the main deck would provide superior habitability.
"No Room for Young Turks?"
(See P. Karsten, pp. 37-50, March 1973 Proceedings)
Doris Maguire—The style of treatment is not consonant with a time span of nearly 150 years. It results in the use of fragmented quotations from one period to support sweeping statements about another period. It equates the bombast of 19-year-olds with the seasoned judgment of greybeards, and it necessitates the use of a continuous flashback technique which, given th£ author’s frequent variations of tone, becomes wildly confusing. The quotation method itself generates special difr cultics through loss of context. Furthermore, an equal number of quotations could have been found to support a dissimilar view. Professor Karsten, then, must have started with a thesis, and selected material from the wealth he surveyed to support it.
The author groups his formidable array of quotations around a number ot motifs, or catchphrases, which first seen1 witty, then tedious, and finally embat' rassing. He manipulates these sample* of sheer verbal imagery as if they were not his inventions, but quantifiable objects suitable for "model” or compute* use. And he wishes to have it both way*- c.g., that the naval officer is an "aristocrat” (as in his book), and also a vena lower-middlc-class parvenu with a Civil Service mentality (as in the article). The same ambiguity holds true of *hf phrases "Young Turks” and "Mahan' messmates”; in The Naval Aristocrat they seem to refer to opposites, while in the article they have coalesced in 1 dialectical synthesis. Even as a simp'11 concept, the phrase "Mahan’s tnes*' mates” encompasses too great a range of time and spectrum of opinion. It ah1’ has a pejorative effect, in that through repetition the reader finally imagines a the Navy for 60 years sitting in a to* at a trough (plainly the public trough)- dean little piggies with their napkim tied under their snouts. It is a mat(‘r
Comment and Discussion 97
of record that, after 1872, Mahan never messed with anyone. As commanding officer, he dined alone or with invited guests in his cabin. His home was intensely selective of invitations. His letters, together with contemporary correspondence and diaries, show that he was never a "matey” person. If the connotation should be construed as intellectual, the Navy 1870-1914 was constantly divided by bitter dispute, and not only about promotion and pay, and the "band of brothers” frequently treated each other very badly. Even by Professor Karsten’s standards, Mahan is sometimes a Young Turk and sometimes a messmate, a highly anomalous situation. And why is Sims, the most Turkish of all, given such short shrift?
In spite of the author’s various demurrers and disclaimers, it is obvious that he docs hold particular views of man’s nature, and does hope to impose them on others. The idea of the imper- fectibility of man does not necessarily assume that he is totally evil and weak, or that he cannot improve. The amelioration brought to man’s ways by Western Christian culture lay at the heart of the British impcrium and American paternalism. The validity of such a concept is open to debate, and is in fact constantly debated, but its historicity is widely attested, and should place it beyond the jeering contempt of the historian, just as the historical fact of Christian doctrine should in the writing of history exempt it from public blasphemy.
"The Military Critic”
(See P. M. Flammcr, pp. 28-36, March; and
p. 83, July 1973 Proceedings)
Commander Robert W. Canon, U. S. Naval Resem-R— Since my release from active duty, I have worked for the Navy as a Civil Servant (engineering supervisor) and continued in the drilling Naval Reserve (presently a Naval Reserve Group Commander). More than once I have found myself in the position of having to summon the personal moral courage necessary to advance a well- thought-through idea, and risk the wrath of others who would do almost anything to appear to their seniors to be always right and blameless.
I should like to point out that the "Zero Error Mentality” is an affliction which attacks all age groups. It is not infrequent to see this state in people in their early 20s. I have found an effective antidote to be contained in the following quotation, "Success may yet come to men who have failed, but never to those who have quit.”
"Intervention in Russia (1918-1919)”
(See S. Shapiro, pp. 52-61, April 1973 Proceedings)
William V. Kennedy—Captain Shapiro does a disservice to the American units involved in the intervention when he states that, "Militarily, the Allied Intervention was a farce.”
When Major General, later Field Marshal Sir William E. Ironside took command in North Russia late in the autumn of 1918, he found 5,000 Americans and 11,000 British and French deployed along an arc of 450 miles, some 200 miles deep into the swamps and forests of Archangel Province. The forward units were already in contact with the Bolshevik Sixth Army, 45,700 men, apparently under the direction of Trotsky himself. To attempt to extricate the Allied forces at that point was to invite disaster. Ironside ordered them to dig in and hold on.
The Americans were largely draftees from Michigan and Wisconsin. They had only the vaguest notion of what they were doing in North Russia. Their "Arctic” equipment consisted of the standard U. S. Army winter issue woolens and overcoats.
In September 1918, the most extended American and Allied units came under prolonged artillery bombardment and infantry assaults without artillery support of their own. They withdrew 15 miles to the village of Toulgas on the Dvina River where they could be supported by a British monitor. By late October, the freezing of the mouth of the river had forced the monitor to withdraw north to Archangel. The southern reaches of the river were still open, enabling the Bolsheviks to bring up heavy guns on barges.
The Toulgas garrison consisted of Company B of the 339th Infantry rein
forced by an understrength company of the Royal Scots and a two-gun section of Canadian 75s, some 300 men in all. They were outgunned by the Russian artillery and outnumbered at least 20-1 in infantry.
From late October until about mid- November, and again in February, this small force withstood prolonged artillery bombardments and successive infantry assaults. The garrison not only held, but also inflicted losses sufficient to provoke a mutiny in the Bolshevik Tarasovo Regiment.
By the end of the winter 1918-1919, the Americans and their Allies had held all of their positions, and in the process had broken the back of the Bolshevik Sixth Army. This was accomplished without any clear reason for continuing the fight, under the appalling conditions of the Arctic winter, without what we would consider minimal cold weather gear and in the face of a seemingly overwhelming enemy force fighting in its own homeland, in its own climate, and for what was presumably a commonly-understood goal. The entire Allied effort was sustained by individual, unit, and national pride fused by the personality and the professional competence of Lord Ironside.
This remarkable performance of the American Expeditionary Force, North Russia, has been overlooked or denigrated for too long. It was anything but a "farce.”
"Eight-inch Guns Relined In
Ship/Shore Evolution”
(See W. J. Smith, pp. 107-110, April 1973
Proceedings)
Franz H. Misch— They say a picture is worth a 1,000 words, and those accompanying Lieutenant Commander Smith’s Professional Note spell out nothing but danger.
The only safety-oriented men around seem to be shipyard personnel. Can’t we afford hard hats for the ship’s crew? The loss of a senior chief doesn’t fit into any cost-effectiveness equation, and the Navy has lost valuable personnel before for lack of a hard hat.
A green-cross goose-egg for Lieutenant Commander Smith and all hands involved in the relining evolution.
"The Black Midshipman at the U. S. Naval Academy”
(See R. L. Field, pp. 28-36, April 1973
Proceedings)
Bruce P. Hayden—The article by Lieutenant Commander Fields reminds me of one of the very few instances during my midshipman career and afterward, when I have been less than proud of the Naval Academy and its people. That concerns the bilging, in February 1937, of Midshipman Fourth Class James Lee Johnson.
There was no question in my mind at that time, which was during my second class year, that Johnson was, in fact, railroaded out just as Representative Mitchell claimed. Johnson lived in a single room down the corridor from me, and his was the one room in the 1st Battalion that was inspected daily—usually several times a day. It was almost always possible to find a little something slightly out of line or a small bit of dust somewhere, and on report he would go. Pains were always taken to inspect two or three other rooms at the same time, so that there would never be just the one name on the report sheet, but that one name was always present. He hit it frequently for other offenses—again always in company with one or more of the other hapless plebes—and the buildup of his string of demerits was constant, as was his constant parading at extra duty.
Likewise it was rumored, at the time he was found academically deficient in English, that this was the only plebe subject which could be graded subjectively instead of objectively. There was no point in trying to flunk him in mathematics if he could produce papers which had virtually no errors in them, but when it came to judging matters of English composition and usage, the instructor’s standards were his own.
I was, and still am, ashamed of my own reaction to all of this at the time it was happening. 1 didn’t like it and took no part in it, but as a second classman intent on graduation a year and a half hence, 1 lacked the courage to stick my own neck out or say anything to anybody. I believe I was one of the few to give Johnson an occasional smile or word of encouragement, but
even this was rare, since it seemed to me that he was always under observation, and I certainly did not want to attract any attention to myself.
From my limited contact with him, he seemed a very decent guy, a smart one, and a thoroughly patient one who well knew exactly what was happening to him, but who did his best to survive nonetheless. He had lots more guts than the 200 or 300 of us who well knew what was going on but who didn’t speak out. He probably would have made a fine naval officer.
Editor’s Note: Mr. Hayden is perhaps too severe in his self-recrimination. The Naval Academy’s official records indicate that Midshipman Fourth Class Johnson resigned after his first semester in lieu of being dropped for: (1) academic deficiency in English, including a failure on the examination; (2) physical deficiency-myopia in both eyes; and (3) conduct deficiency.
"Nuremberg in Perspective”
(See R. A. von Docnhoflf, pp. 104-107, March
1973 Proceedings)
John W. Stephan, Jr. — During World War II, upon the decision and with the knowledge of the American and British heads of government, those powers embarked upon a deliberate "strategic” bombing campaign designed to destroy the morale of the German people.
The results demonstrate that the object was not to destroy military or industrial targets, but to deliberately exterminate non-combatant civilians of all ages and both sexes. One does not level entire cities the size of Cologne, Dresden, or Berlin by accident. Bombing accuracy, while deplorable, was not that bad. It was also obvious that these and other cities did not stand empty but were filled with men, women, and children. While perhaps more conveniently impersonal than the crimes for which the defendants of Nuremberg were convicted, the bombing campaign killed just as certainly and tragically. To be sure, a difference in numbers exists. Are those hundreds of thousands, buried under the rubble, an insignificant number? Their husbands, wives, or children,
if alive, don’t think so. The bombing campaign was deliberate, well organized, and it was government policy. It was also senseless, since it failed completely to achieve any purpose except to kill civilians.
Whatever the guilt or innocence of the Nuremberg defendants, how could they be judged by men representing a policy such as that described?
If there is to be war, then let us fight it to win. If there is to be retribution, then let us argue the right and wrong, and if that is our decision, then let us call it retribution instead of cloaking it in pseudo-legality.
R & D Challenge: Develop a Small Anti-personnel Mine Detector
Colonel A. C Smith, Jr., U. S. Marini Corps—The war in Vietnam is over for U. S. ground troops, but people are still victims of mines and booby traps. Such was the case in the following report filed by United Press International in Saigon on 13 May:
William C. Rasmussen, the leading hydrologist in South Vietnam, and two other persons were killed yesterday when the jeep in which they were riding ran over a land mine 75 miles east of Saigon.
Before time overcomes forgetfulness, let us remember the hard lesson from Vietnam: Individuals—civilian as well as military—have been, are being, and will continue to be killed by these "neutral killers” almost every day.
The purpose of this discussion is to save lives of the individual Marines, "gravel crunchers,” soldiers, or civilians at the grassroots level. Mines and booby traps have exacted a heavy toll of lives and property in the threc-and-a-half wars that I have been involved in, but in particular the last one—Vietnam, where, for example, in one day alone, my doctor friend was forced to cut off 21 limbs of maimed Marines.
Many of those casualties in Vietnam could have been prevented through a more concerted effort on the part of this nation’s research and development agencies to concentrate on the individual soldier’s requirements—the "little picture” as opposed to predominant "big
Comment and Discussion 99
picture” research that occurred and continues today.
For this reason, I propose an immediate research and development (R&D) effort for a mine detector, similar in size, shape, and scope to the ground laser target designator (ltd) system, resembling a small conventional hand-held firearm. Is that asking too much of this costly, equipment intensive nation of ours?
Up to now, most all of our land mine warfare efforts have been projected towards "proper care and caution,” based on knowledge of enemy devices and techniques of employment of mines and booby traps that enables personnel to recognize and avoid the hazards associated with the subject. But nobody—I say nobody—has come up with a small, lightweight, portable device that an individual, scout or team leader, can use to detect or give warning of mines and booby traps.
Is it unreal in this world today, where we are capable of launching a 100-ton Skylab space station at the cost of $2.5 billion to ". . . give us a very good understanding of man’s capability to live and work in space . . . ,” to spend more effort, time, and money on an immediate real world problem to help save individual lives? The soldier or war victim must possess a better capability to detect anti-personnel mines and booby traps.
The Silent Sentinel
Lieutenant E. C. Oyer, U. S. Navy— A chapter in history has been re-created, again, and a review now should show how a limited number of sea mines etched into Haiphong and other harbors did what sortie after sortie of bomb runs failed to do—create a blockade, through apprehension, that caused these harbors to cease functioning. And did adverse words follow, such as "bombing the dikes, hospitals, schools?” No. So with a few weapons, we did not harm a person, damage a structure, or create adverse propaganda, yet we contributed to gaining the ultimate end with a minimum of actual mine hardware that cost, probably, less than $50,000.
So effective was the blockade that when vessels were warned of mines, they
turned away, with some even adding a "thank you,” rather than run the risk. Now bear in mind, these ship captains had only our word that there were mines there, suggesting that there is a psychological advantage enjoyed by only a few weapons.
Now, let’s keep the state of the art where it is, and keep in mind, too, that some potential adversaries also know the threat posed by a single mine, for they, too, are masters in the development and use of underwater mines.
"The Time Has Come, the
Porpoise Said ...”
(See A. T. Church, Jr., pp. 34-39, January
1973 Proceedings)
Dennis A. O’Leary, Executive Officer, California Regional Water Quality Control, San Diego Region— Percival Lee Porpoise’s fine resolution to the Secretary General is laudable for its support of efforts to eliminate ocean pollution. It is most inaccurate, however, in describing the ocean off Point Loma, San Diego, as a ". . . most unsightly area ... the results of which must be repulsive to you as it has been to us.” And it is misguided and unfair in its objections to the community’s fine accomplishments in cleaning up its harbors long before environmental restoration became popular.
In San Diego Bay, we are once again able to observe some of Percival’s cousins from time to time, probably attracted by the now plentiful fish. All municipal sewage has been long gone out of the harbor and, except for one military base, industrial discharges are in compliance. Only sewage discharges and oil spills from vessels remain to pollute areas of the Bay, sometimes critically. This Regional Board is pressing hard for quick correction of pollution from all types and classes of ships, long overdue in our opinion. As principal user of the Bay, the U. S. Navy is working hard to end their contribution problem in the near future.
I have a notion that Percival Lee Porpoise is really an Atlantic Seaboard denizen who needs some time on the Pacific Coast to learn what is really going on. We would be more than glad to see him anytime.
"Sea and/or Air”
(See G. A. Papin, p. 87, April 1973 Proceedings)
Captain Roy A. Smith, III, U. S. Naiy (Retired) — Recently, I talked with a first class midshipman, who impressed me considerably by his logical and objective views of his immediate future. He is scheduled for naval aviation, but will not report to Pensacola until after a six-month tour at sea—for which he had requested destroyer duty but not yet received his assignment.
"Jim” was very clear that he wanted a sea tour before Pensacola; he wanted the shipboard experience and the opportunity to qualify as an OOD underway, both of which he considers as prerequisites to becoming a good naval aviator. He also considered that destroyers offered the best chance of achieving those objectives as a young, fresh-caught ensign.
But, Jim was also apprehensive as to his chances. He said, "Assuming that I go to a destroyer for six months, together with another new ensign who will be a permanent ship’s officer, won’t the skipper concern himself with training and giving responsibility to the officer who is going to remain on board rather than to one who will only be around for six months?” That is certainly a valid question, for there are very few skippers who would not take that obvious course. It is surely not the young officer’s fault that he will be moved on at just about the point that he is becoming useful to the ship. And, of course, if the ship happens to have the usual excess of junior officers in training, the six-month ensign’s chances of qualifying as an OOD before leaving are pretty remote. In too many cases, he will be given the miscellaneous collateral duty assignments that lead nowhere, with his professional development limited to becoming a junior watch stander underway and a second level assistant in the ship’s organization.
Jim’s philosophy agrees with that of Ensign Papin. A six-month sea tour is not enough to accomplish its theoretical objective of providing sea experience—for just being in a ship without reaching a reasonable level of responsibility is not the practical "sea experience” desired. He would have preferred
a longer tour at sea, delaying his flight training, in order to become a ship’s officer first. He may be luckier than most—and I hope he is—but the odds are that his six-months tour will have little real value to his professional development.
The Navy would be infinitely better off if it went back to the old philosophy of qualifying young ensigns as responsible ship’s officers before sending them off to aviation or other specialties.
Royal Navy: Far East Squadron Again?
Raymond V. B. Blackman, Former Editor, Jane’s Fighting Ships—Great Britain may be forced to reconstitute an independent naval force in South East Asia under a separate Flag Officer, Far East Squadron, if the new Australian Prime Minister decides to pull out all Australian forces from the Australian, New Zealand, and United Kingdom (ANZUK) squadron.
It was little more than a year ago that the posts of Commander, Far East Fleet, with his headquarters on shore in Singapore, and the Flag Officer Second-in- Command, Far East Fleet (FO2), at sea in his flagship, were dissolved, and the warships, operational and harbor-locked, under their command were dispersed to the United Kingdom or taken under the direct control of the Commander-in- Chief, Fleet, at his headquarters at East- bury Park, Northwood, Middlesex.
Since then, Britain has made a contribution to the ANZUK squadron operating under the defense pact with Singapore and Malaysia, and commanded by an Australian rear admiral, with a British commodore afloat. British defense chiefs have decided that Britain could not continue to operate the defense pact for the protection of mutual interests in the area without Australian support. But Britain perforce would have to keep up routine patrolling and showing-the-flag duties, for Malaysia and Singapore have only infant navies, and with the cessation of hostilities in Vietnam, the U. S. Navy forces will doubtless pull right back to Pearl Harbor or the U. S. mainland, leaving a naval void, stretching all the way from the Indian Ocean, through the Strait of Malacca, up the
Indo-Chinese coast, and across the China Sea up to Hong Kong, a void which could very easily be filled by warships of the Soviet Navy.
If Australia pulls out from Malaysia and Singapore as threatened, Britain will withdraw all military and air forces there and that will put such a strain on the schedule of visiting British warships, which also have to operate the Beira patrol, that a permanent naval squadron would have to be maintained. It would probably be based at Hong Kong, where Britain still has a foothold on shore, but would spend nearly all its operational time off Singapore to help in maintaining stability and the rule of law in the Far East, where Britain still has a crisscross of ocean trade routes and very extensive commercial and financial interests down to South East Asia.
But to muster a sufficient number of British warships in the Far East—with present commitments to the Beira patrol (needing a reserve of six frigates to maintain a rotation of only two on continuous patrol), to the watch off Iceland (which also needs more ships on standby than those that actually go up to Arctic waters), to the Mediterranean, to NATO, to operational patrol in the West Indies, and to training at Portland—a severe strain would be put on the Royal Navy’s operational and training schedules, and the Beira patrol might have to be abandoned or turned over to naval auxiliaries, for a British presence in the Far East is essential.
A commando ship carrying about 20 aircraft and a full battalion of Royal Marines could easily fulfill the commitment, which at present, is met by the skeleton British Army and Royal Air Force units in Singapore, boosted by the rotating visit of Britain’s one remaining fixed-wing aircraft carrier.
The Chain of Command
R. E. W. Harrison—Frequent discussions—oral and written—in the Armed Forces journals, give rise to a wondering speculation as to the cause of the assumption that the chain of command no longer works.
Forty years of military experience (both Army and Navy) confirms that the chain still works and the fractures
we hear so much about are due simply to one bad cause—bad personnel management.
Personal experience, from battlefield to staff assignment (in an office), all, without exception, confirms that while there are many explicit books on rules of conduct, discipline must be generated at the bottom of the chain and then proceed up the ladder of command.
The basic training of any recruit in any Service must start with the instilling of the immutable rule that orders must be obeyed, and any and all deliberate infractions will carry a proportionate and justly administered punishment.
My 40-year spell confirms, without any doubts whatsoever, that if noncoms are properly selected for assignments and promotions, we will end up with a taut ship and a happy one. Furthermore, the sergeants and chief petty officers must function as the backbone of the working organization.
To expect a very junior commissioned officer to exercise the function of the sergeant or CPO is impossible to accomplish without impairing the efficiency of military chain of command.
Sergeants and petty officers, properly selected and trained, are foremen, and all up the line—and down the line- respect them in return. Sergeants and CPOs who know their own responsibilities will always help the junior officers carry out their particular duties with efficiency.
Personal experience has proven beyond any argument that good sergeants and CPOs will properly teach and back up their junior noncoms and petty officers and make sure that they are prop crly respected by their juniors.
The foregoing is the very bedrock of a well-disciplined, taut and happy organization, and there definitely is no alternative procedure.
As the commissioned officers proceed up the line, their successful carrying out of their duties will be more effective and more pleasant if they can rely on the loyalty of noncoms and petty officers.
Finally, experience has proven that the proficient accomplishment of any Armed Forces mission, either in peace or war, must absolutely be based on these concepts and procedures.