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How Down—or Up—Is that Airplane?
By Major J. R. McNeece, U. S. Marine Corps
In 1977, Mission Essential Subsystem Matrices (MESM) and Subsystem Capability Impact Reporting (SCIR) were incorporated into the fleet airCraft maintenance picture. SCIR is a means of reporting the capabilities of aircraft, training devices, and support e9uipment. It provides the means to document each subsystem (an aircraft ls a system; it is made up of many subsystems) rather specifically, indicating malfunction frequency, amount maintenance required, relative effect on total weapon system capabil- ■ly, etc.
. The specifics of SCIR are to be found m Naval Instruction (OpNavInst) ;442.4G. It defines missions for each item of equipment covered and de- hnes categories of capability:
A mission-capable (MC) aircraft can Perform at least one of its defined missions.
^ A non-mission-capable (NMC) aircraft can perform none of them. The MC category is further divided:
. A partially mission-capable (PMC) aircraft can perform at least one, but uot all, of its assigned missions.
A fully mission-capable (FMC) aircraft can perform them all.
Besides defining missions and capability categories, the instruction Provides a matrix of the subsystems °I each aircraft or item of equipment and indicates the loss of capability of me total system caused by the loss of each subsystem. The matrix for each fype, model, and series (TMS) aircraft !s contained in its own enclosure, and ls called the MESM for that aircraft.
The MESM is a great improvement n^er its predecessor, which was a list l subsystems tied to much broader, css descriptive categorizations. Be- s'des the specificity of documentation allowed through SCIR, the MESM is relatively easy to use.
The misuse of information provided by SCIR using the MESM is, however, troublesome. Commanders like to see high FMC, low PMC, and zero NMC. This is a natural desire based on broad definitions, but it does not lead easily to establishing specific goals at the working level. Therefore, efforts to improve the statistics are largely random in emphasis, and, through it all, we seldom ask what we need to accomplish the mission. Instead, we tend to ask what we need to make our statistics look better.
Information about aircraft capabilities is also misused because the MESM does not accurately reflect aircraft capability. The flaw is in the E—essential—of MESM. Few subsystems are essential to any mission, but, to quote OpNavInst 5442.4G, “The equipment listed is considered essential to maintain the capability to perform the applicable missions. ...” This emphasis on absolute essentiality in reporting flies in the face of the redundancy built into weapon systems. Essentiality is considered to be a flaw unless that subsystem is extremely reliable. We want an aircraft that can accomplish its mission even after the loss of one or more subsystems. In addition to not being essential to any one mission, many subsystems may be used in several missions, affecting each of them differently.
Another problem with the MESM is that missions are arranged on each matrix in an order which shows an interdependency which may not exist. For example, let us define Mission C as nuclear weapons delivery, Mission D as air-to-ground ordnance delivery, and Mission E as air defense. According to the MESM logic, if the aircraft is incapable of accomplishing Mission E, it is also unable to conduct Mission C or D. In other words, if that airplane will not fire a Sidewinder air- to-air missile, then according to the
MESM, it is also incapable of delivering 500-pound bombs or nuclear weapons. This is not the case in a real airplane.
Recognizing that the MESM and SCIR have shortcomings, 1 devised a method to derive accurate information that is useful to the maintenance officer and the operations officer. Using my approach, the commander can have a much better grasp of what his unit is capable of accomplishing and what can be done to improve that capability.
My reporting method—I call it “M3” (Major McNeece’s Method), which will have to be shortened to “M:" if I get promoted—is based on logic suitable for minicomputers (like the ones entering service in the Marine Corps) but simple enough for manual use. I have modified the emphasis of MESM. MESM identifies a subsystem, then lists the missions to which it is defined as being essential. 1 have chosen to identify the missions, then list the subsystems used in accomplishing each mission and the relative degradation caused by the loss of each subsystem. Through the use of SCIR-like alphanumeric codes, I plan to retain the advantages of SCIR. However, the det- initions of OpNavInst 5442.4G will have to be overhauled, because FMC and PMC categorizations are avoided; they are replaced by more specific descriptions.
Using my method, each aircraft is reported as capable or not capable by mission. For example, an aircraft may be capable of performing only air defense, but for that mission it may be optimally capable. This approach recognizes the difficulty of maintaining every aircraft to perform every mission. It concentrates, instead, on being able to accomplish all missions with the total number of aircraft available.
This total number changes with the
position of the observer. The pilot is interested in one airplane; he wants it to achieve one mission. If that mission is defensive air operations, he doesn’t care if his plane will drop bombs or not. The wing commander, on the other hand, has a broader range of missions to consider. His problem is to assign tasks to cover those missions. If each crew performs well, in an airplane capable of doing the assigned mission, the end result is success—whether each airplane could have performed the other missions or not.
The ability to identify the best airplane available to accomplish a particular mission has implications beyond simple achievement of that mission; it also implies improved flying safety, better efficiency of scheduling, and improved training. The assignment of a capable airplane lessens the probability of pilot overload and the resulting errors. It allows the pilot time to concentrate on honing his skills during training.
As designed, the heart of the reporting system consists of a series of mission capability decision logic diagrams (MCDLs). The use of logic diagrams or flow charts fits in well with the expanded use of computers, yet if kept simple lends itself to manual use as a backup. One MCDL is required for each defined mission of each TMS aircraft. Diagrams are constructed in four steps.
First, the potential missions are defined, based upon operational needs for the aircraft under consideration. For higher level use, mission descriptions can be coordinated among aircraft so a commander can easily see how many aircraft of all types in his subordinate units can perform a given mission.
Second, a “basic airplane” is defined. This is the key difference between the MCDL and MESM approaches. MESM starts with a fully mission-capable aircraft, takes away a system, and then describes what can still be accomplished. MCDL starts with a “basic airplane” and builds an aircraft capable of mission accomplishment. The basic airplane is considered to be safely flyable but can accomplish no mission other than flying from one place to another. It may be categorized as VMC (visual meteorological conditions) flyable—i.e., little more than a bare airplane with operational basic flight instruments—or mobile; i.e., VMC flyable with IMC (instrument meteorological conditions) instruments, lights, navigational gear, etc. Either category may be capable of combat under the proper conditions and with operational subsystems.
Third, using the basic airplane as the foundation and applying the mission definitions for the TMS aircraft, the significance of each subsystem for each mission can be determined. Each may vary in importance from mission to mission. The lack of a given subsystem may have no effect on one mission, may degrade the capability to accomplish a second, and may totally negate the accomplishment of a third.
Finally, all that remains is to construct a diagram for each mission.
In order to perform operational readiness evaluations on its units, the Marine Corps uses the Marine Corps Combat Readiness Evaluation System (MCCRES). Marine Corps Order (MCO) 3501.1 defines what missions must be accomplished, and to what standards. Referring to this MCCRES manual, I extracted four mission statements that encompass the tactical missions of an A-4M:
► Air Support: the capability to provide close air support, direct air support, and helicopter escort faced with any threat level
► Advanced Weapons: the capability to deliver advanced weapons, i.e., laser guided weapons, Shrike, Walleye, and Aero-14B Spray faced with any threat level
► Air Defense: the capability to perform defensive air operations faced with any threat level
► Nuclear Weapons: the capability to deliver nuclear weapons faced with any threat level
Defining a “basic airplane’’gave rise to two “implied missions.” Each corresponds to VMC flyable and mobile. The "basic airplane,” then, is one which will accomplish one or both implied missions.
Since the most elementary of the two is VMC flyable, a list of subsystems, components, and inspections was compiled. The loss of or failure to comply with any one would render the airplane not safely flyable. This list corresponds to the one contained in the A-4M’s MESM with the exception that “basic flight instruments” have been redefined. (The MCDL’s basic flight instruments are airspeed indicator, pressure altimeter, vertical speed indicator, standby attitude gyro, and wet compass.) Keep in mind that VMC flyability implies potential for tactical mission performance in visual meteorological conditions.
On the list of subsystems affecting mobility are those things which improve capability to the point where the airplane can fly day or night in instrument meteorological conditions. No subsystems which are exclusively tactical in nature are included.
Now, having completed the first two steps, that is, defining specific missions and defining the “basic airplane,” we examine each mission and determine which subsystems could be used in its accomplishment. Nojudgments of essentiality are made at this time. The only criterion for inclusion on a mission list is whether the subsystem can be used or not. Four lists of subsystems result, one corresponding to each defined mission. Some subsystems are included on only one list, indicating that they have no effect on other missions. Other subsystems appear on all lists, indicating broad applicability.
At this time, we begin to make qualitative judgments by examining each list and considering each subsystem as it affects that mission alone. It becomes apparent that there are three broad categories involved. The loss of the subsystem:
(a) has no effect on mission capability; (b) causes some degradation ot mission capability; or (c) renders the aircraft incapable of accomplishing that mission.
The first of these is easy to handle, as is the last. In the first case, the subsystem is removed from the list, its loss is of no consequence. The last case indicates true essentiality to mission capability; there is no middle ground.
In the second case, that subsystem whose loss causes some degradation requires more consideration. The loss may have a small effect, a large effect, or something in between. For simplicity, we label three degrees of degradation: slightly degraded, degraded, and severely degraded. As an accounting device to provide a quantitative indicator of a qualitative judgment, degradation coefficients of L 3, and 5 are assigned to each degree o degradation from slight to severe- These coefficients are used to evalu-
*“Loss" means it will not perform the function for which designed.
ate cumulative degradation, which will be explained later. Other complexities arise which are related to the functioning of the subsystems themselves.
Some subsystems may be used in mission-specific modes; therefore, the loss of one mode may severely degrade capability for one mission while not affecting that of another. (Those subsystems must be considered mode by mode as each affects individual mission capability.) In some cases, the value of having an operational subsystem—hence, its relative degradation of capability if lost—varies with those other subsystems that are op- national. A backup subsystem or mode °f operation has relatively low importance if the primary is working, but may be truly essential if the primary ls not.
Interrelationships must be accounted for in some order of importance or relative degradation that should be based upon tactical considerations. For example, an airplane not capable of dropping bombs may still accomplish an air support mission by carrying rockets only. If a plane can neither drop bombs nor shoot rockets, ,ts guns must be considered.
The four mission subsystem lists are fhen arranged in an arbitrary order, '•e., no priority of missions is assigned, and alphanumeric codes much like SCIR’s equipment operability codes (EOCs) are given to the subsystems. Elimination of duplication results in progressively shorter lists when the subsystems are arranged by EOC. The implied missions of the basic airplane are similarly arranged. See Table 1.
Finally, a Mission Capability Decision Logic diagram must be constructed for each implied mission of the basic airplane and for each tactical mission. Using the principles of flowcharting, it was easy to handle the complexities brought on by use of various subsystem modes, one changing importance of subsystems, and interrelationships of function.
The MCDL diagram for the VMC flyable A-4M is straightforward; if any Z-coded discrepancy exists, the airplane is not VMC flyable and is “down.” The MCDL for A-4M mobility becomes more complex because more subsystems are involved and because the loss of no one subsystem, with the exception of "IMC instruments,” is sufficient to render the airplane not capable. This is where the role of the degradation coefficients enters.
Each appropriate subsystem with EOC B02 through B16 is assigned such a coefficient in this MCDL. The coefficients are summed up for inoperative subsystems. If the sum is greater than some arbitrary number, then the cumulative degradation is labeled “excessive.” This helps account for the increased workload of the pilot caused by having several so-called minor gripes on the airplane, and it provides an indicator to the maintenance officer that the quality of a particular airplane is dwindling. For example if the TA- CAN (B02), instrument lights (B05), drag chute (B08), IFF Mode 3/A,C (B09), and external fuel (BIO) are all inoperative, the sum of the individual degradation coefficients is 1+3+1 + 1+ 5 = II. For A-4M mobility, the maximum allowable cumulative degradation is set at ten. Therefore, when the last step of the MCDL is reached, excess cumulative degradation is said to exist, and the airplane is labeled not capable of mobility. (For each mission, the maximum allowable cumulative degradation is arbitrarily set at ten—except that for A-4M air support, which is 15.)
The handling of external lighting in this MCDL shows a simple example of subsystem interrelationships and the varying value of a subsystem, depending upon what else is operational.
Table 1 Aircraft Subsystem Codes
204 Nose Wheel Steering
205 Electrical System (lest Emergency Generator)
Z06 Emergency Generator
207 Ejection System
208 Survival Equipment
209 Oxygen Equipment
210 Airframe 2'1 Power Plant
2U Pressurization/Air
ZO] Drag Chute Cannister 2^2 Landing Gear 203 Brakes
Conditioning
213 Hydraulics
214 Engine Instruments *
2'5 Flight Controls
2>6 Jet Fuel Starter
217 Advisory/Warning Lights
218 Fire/Overheat Detection
219 Basic Flight
Instruments **
220 Internal Fuel System
21 Arresting Equpiment
22 UHF Radio
-3 Engine Inspection
Z24 Special Inspection Z25 Conditional Inspection Z26 Phase Inspection Z27 Corrosion Inspection Z28 TDC
*Engine Instruments: EGT, RPM, EPR, Fuel Flow. Oil Pressure **Basic Flight Instruments: A/S Indicator. Pressure Altimeter. VSI, Standby Gyro. Wet Compass
B01 IMC Instruments *
B02 TACAN B03 Engine Anti-ice B04 Pilot Heat B05 Instrument Lights, including Floodlight and Thunderstorm Lights B06 Exterior Lights, including Probe Light, excluding Fuselage Lights B07 Anticollision Lights, one operational B08 Drag Chute B09 IFF Mode 3/A, C B10 External Fuel Bll IFR, Receiver B12 IFR, Tanker
B13 JATO B14 Catapult System BI5 Approach Lights B16 MCL
B17 Auxiliary Receiver B18 AFCS except Stab Aug B19 Stabilization Augmentation B20 APC
*IMC' Instruments: Clock W/ Sweep Second Hand AJB-3A W/Turn And Slip AOA Indicator
C0I Hud Nav Mode C02 Hud CCIP Mode C03 Hud BARO Mode C04 Standby Reticle C05 Radar Altimeter C06 FM Radio C07 Secure FM Radio C08 Secure UHF Radio C09 Secure IFF CIO Radar Beacon Cl I Electrical Fusing to Bomb Carrying Stations C12 Bomb Carriage & Release to Bomb Carrying Stations
C13 Rocket Carriage & Release to Rocket Carrying Stations
C14 Mk-12 Guns 05 GPU 2/A Gun Pod C16 Weapon Release Computer C17 AWRS C18 GCBS C19 ALR-45 C20 ALR-50 C2I ALE-39 C22 ALQ-126
DO I Shrike Wiring D02 ADL or SIDS and Shrike Launcher D03 Aero 14B Wiring D04 Aero 14B Control Box D05 LST
D06 Walleye Wiring D07 Walleye Scope
E01 Hud A/A Mode E02 Hud MSL Mode E03 Sidewinder Wiring
F01 AMAC F02 LABS
igure 2 Mission Capability Decision Logic— A -4M Mobility
SLIGHTLY 1)1 OK Mil I) III
If both exterior lights (B06) and one anticollision light (B07) are working, there is no degradation. If either B06 or B07 is working, then the degradation coefficient is three. If neither is working, the degradation coefficient is five. The MCDL for A-4M air support starts with an examination of the basic airplane. If it is degraded at all, the MCDL assigns a degradation coefficient of three as a handicap. Other features are the same as previously discussed. The treatment of the HUD, however, deserves attention.
The HUD NAV mode (C01) is considered separately. It aids in navigation and not in ordnance delivery. HUD CCIP (C02), HUD BARO (C03), and standby reticle (C04) are handled in such a way as to account for their interrelationships and their changes in importance, dictated by what other modes are working. The standby reticle is extremely important if neither HUD BARO or HUD CCIP is working, but is not so important if either is working.
The description of the subsystems involved in weapons carriage and delivery (C12,CI3,C14. and Cl5) is also designed to account for complex interrelationships, and to show that an airplane that can only shoot rockets or can only shoot guns still has at least some capability. There may be a specific mission that is tailor-made for it.
A subsystem can appear with more than one EOC. The “clock with sweep second hand” is defined as a part of “IMC instruments” (B01) and is included as part of that EOC in the MCDL for A-4M mobility. Because of the importance of timing in close air support and direct air support, the clock is included again in the air support MCDL and is assigned its own individual degradation coefficient and EOC.
In MCO 3501.5, advanced weapons for the A-4M are considered to be Shrike. Aero-14B Spray Tank, laser- guided bombs, and Walleye. Two facts are keys to the handling of these subsystems in the MCDL for A-4M advanced weapons: probably no airplane is going to carry all four at one time, and although an airplane may be wired for a weapon, it may not be configured for it—i.e., it may not have a control box, launcher, etc. These facts give rise to individual considerations for each weapon and three new subcategories:
► Not capable (NC) for that weapon
► Capable but not configured (CBNC)
for the weapon
► Capable and configured (C&C) for the weapon
Each of the weapons was assigned a weapon code: W1 (Shrike), W2 (Aero 14B), W3 (Laser-guided bombs), and W4 (Walleye). The assignment of a third character to the weapon code yields a weapon capability code: (lb capable and configured; (2), capable but not configured: and (3), not capable. Thus, a weapon capability code of W12 indicates that the airplane is capable but not configured for Shrike: W33 indicates not capable of laser- guided bomb delivery; W21 indicates capable and configured for Aero-14B Spray Tank.
Not being capable of delivery of a weapon does not add anything to the cumulative degradation coefficient. Unless other degradation is serious, the final result of the MCDL is a report of capability based on weapon capability codes. This provides an exact inventory of what advanced weapons can be delivered by which airplanes. This is a more precise treatment than is found in the MESMs of OpNavInst 5442.4G.
These, then, are the MCDL diagrams for an A-4M. The mission definitions are based upon doctrinal missions and are assigned no priority; that is, one is considered to be as important as any other. Each subsystem is examined as it functions for each mission; it may be examined in more than one MCDL; it may have more than one EOC. Each subsystem is assigned a degradation coefficient to help account for its importance. Indeed, it may have two or three different coefficients, depending upon what other subsystems are operational. The outcome of each MCDL diagram is a determination of capability to perform a particular mission and a cumulative degradation coefficient, which is an indicator of the “quality” of that airplane’s capability to perform that mission.
In compiling a report of the outcomes of the MCDL examinations of capability, it is useful to list the defined missions in a manner similar to that in the MESM:
Z: Not Safely Flyable A: VMC Flyable B; Mobility C: Air Support D: Advanced Weapons E: Air Defense
, this latter |?nt of the "1 upNavlnst 5
F: Nuclear Weapons Delivery The Z mission (not safely flyable) is assigned to that aircraft with any Z- coded discrepancy. That aircraft is not mission capable (NMC). Missions A and B are the implied missions of the basic airplane. Any airplane that is capable of either mission A or B is mission qualified (MQ). Missions C, D. F, and F are the operationally defined missions of the A-4M. Any airplane that is capable of one or more of these ls mission capable (MC).
Consider VMA-999, a fictitious Marine A-4M squadron with ten airplanes. After examining each airplane’s capabilities with the MCDLs, d table (see Figure 3) can be constructed with an “X” in a block in- mcating capability. The most basic accounting of capabilities would consist °f simply listing the numbers of airCraft by mission capability. Based upon such a simple list, four management objectives can be logically set and listed ln order of priority. First, drive the '’timber of Z airplanes to zero. This JPeans getting all on-hand airplanes into lyable condition. Second, achieve (finality between missions A and B.
' ms is making sure that any flyable a,rplane can operate under all condi- 'ons. Third, achieve equality among OiRelational missions C. D. E, and F y attacking the most severely degraded mission first. This sets in mo- '°n a seesaw-like shifting of focus that maintains a balanced effort. For example, the maintenance officer of can see that his airplanes are weakest in Mission F. He can look o tour specific airplanes (Figure 3) and choose two or three to repair. Having j'c’Paired those, focus would then shift 0 Mission D and the airplanes not capable of that mission, ln this manner, ,e '^constantly looking at the mission dt is most degraded. Remember, this Process occurs only after completion the preceding two objectives (either SUccessful completion or work StopPage). Fourth, achieve equality be- ''een MQ airplanes and MC air- banes. This is ensuring that all basic a'rplanes can accomplish any as- Sl8ned mission.
objective is the equiva- ully mission capable" of 442.4G but is arrived at ,n a logical, orderly manner. Follow- 8 the objectives in order allows the aintenance officer to quickly formate a plan for accomplishing reams. Specific subsystems on specific
AFCS
W/O STABAUG \ BIS
NO
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY DEGRADED (I) '
STAB
AUG?
BI9
NO
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
SLIGHTLY
DEGRADED
(I)
airplanes are flagged in such a way that setting work priorities is easy and dynamic; with minicomputer use, the plan is based upon timely analysis.
For statistical purposes, Figure 3 can be used in a manner that provides further information. The rule that underlies this treatment is that the percentages reported are those of possible missions in each major category. Referring to Figure 3 and restating the rule another way, percentages reported are those of “Xs” attained in each category to the “Xs” that are possible in that category. This means that only in the Z category (NMC) is the reported percentage equal to one of airplanes.
From Figure 3, then, VMA-999 can report the following:
► NMC: 2/10 or 20%
► MQ: 14/20 or 70%
►MC: 25/40 or 62.5%
The difference between these percentages and the ones obtained through SCIR is readily apparent, and arises from the orientation toward reporting on the ability to perform missions. It is obvious that NMC -I- MQ is not 100%. The reason for this is that two of VMA-999’s A-4Ms are not capable of Mission B, that is, degradation exists in the MQ category, which defines the basic airplane. Let’s define a term “basic degradation percentage” (BDP), such that: NMC -I- MQ + BDP = 100%. This BDP accounts for the degradation in the MQ category and indicates something about the quality of the basic airplane. A low BDP indicates low degradation and high quality.
Following the same reasoning, another term called “operational degradation percentage” (ODP) can be
Figure 3 MCDL Management Matrix
NMC Miss. Qua!,____________ Mission Capable
Mission | Z | A | B | C | D | E | F |
Aircraft No. 1 | X |
|
|
|
|
|
|
2 |
| X | X | X |
| X |
|
3 |
| X | X | X | X | X |
|
4 |
| X | X | X |
| X | X |
5 |
| X |
| X | X | X | X___ |
6 |
| X | X |
| X | X | X__ |
7 |
| X |
| X | X | X |
|
8 |
| X | X | X | X | X |
|
9 | X |
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 |
| X | X | X | X | X | X__ |
Totals | 2 | 8 | 6 | 7 | 6 | 8 | 4__ |
defined such that: NMC + MC + ODP = 100%. This ODP is the same sort of indicator for the MC category as the BDP was for MQ.
Using these definitions, then, VMA- 999 can report:
► NMC: 20%
► MQ: 70%
► MC: 62.5%
► BDP: 10%
► ODP: 17.5%
These numbers help the commander quantify the quality of his operational airplanes, since each degradation percentage (BDP and ODP) is an indicator of the amount by which each category is degraded. Other information to show reasons for degradation (maintenance or supply) c?n be included. Because of the specim subcategories defined under Mission D (NC, CBNC, and C&C), an expansion of the advanced weapons column is necessary to show exact capability-
This report provides the squadron commander and his superiors with an exact accounting of what can be operationally accomplished with on-hand assets. The air group commander sees what he can do with all the A-4MS under his command. He can see what remaining capability he has if a certain number of them are committed to a given mission. He can more easily determine the mix of A-4Ms and A-6Es. for example, on a deep air supp01^ strike. The commander of the marine amphibious force can see at a glance what assets he has to mount an am defense if mission designations are correlated between fighter and attack aircraft. The MCDL approach takes information from the maintenance o - ficer and presents it in such a way tha
't is useful to him and the operations officer.
The MCDL approach has a final feature that falls in the domain of the squadron commander alone. Recall that degradation coefficients are as- S|gned and summed to account for cumulative degradation. This information will indicate to the squadron commander the exact quality of his a>rplanes. If most of them have high cumulative degradation coefficients, he has an indication that more atten- t'°n should be paid to repairing these lower priority subsystems. He knows ’hat his pilots are carrying a high
workload.
Conversely, in a crisis, he can look tor places to override the “excessive cumulative degradation" flag that has been raised on some airplanes. For example, an airplane may be flagged as excessively degraded for nuclear Weapons delivery because of several down subsystems, including LABS. If a Particular target is designated for a ’aydown delivery, the squadron commander can exclude LABS from con- aeration, since it is a subsystem used ln loft bombing. That airplane might now be one of the most capiable for delivering a weapon on that target.
With the ability to account for each subsystem and to quantify its effect on the accomplishment of a mission, each level of command has more and better information; but the greatest improvement comes at the lowest level. The maintenance officer has a rational method to examine his aircraft and assign priorities. He can assign airplanes that are more capable for the missions scheduled by the operations officer. The operations officer can see specifically what assets are available and can plan more logically for mission accomplishment.
Using SCIR and MESMs, the mission capability percentages obtained are those of aircraft—what percentages of airplanes are NMC, PMC, and FMC. These are not really useful numbers to the commander, especially with regard to the percentage associated with PMC. If VMA-999has 80% of its airplanes partially mission capable, the commander is left to wonder, “which part are they capable of?” But the basic mission capability decision logic report eliminates that question through listing airplanes by individual mission. The big winner is the pilot. He gets the best airplane available for the job.
Editor’s Note: Additional MCDL flow charts for the tactical missions of an A-4M (air support, advanced weapons, air defense, and nuclear weapons) are available upon request by writing to Proceedings.
The Nature of the Maritime Beast
Colonel Douglas G. Macnair, U. S. Army (Retired)
,, recently as October 1978, many exPerts” would have assured us of . ree things: first, that maritime crimes 'fvolving fraud or larceny would re- |?ain of minor consequence; second, aat piracy was an act with little or no Modern-day relevance; third, that the Probability of terrorism ever intruding ln’o the maritime environment was a Hotion so remote that it had to be con- s,dered “almost impossible.” Yet, in sPite of the opinions expressed by these e.xPerts, criminal incidents are occurring in the maritime environment with
Mcreasing frequency. It appears that l^e Maritime “beast” is raising its ugly
Webster’s New Collegiate Diction- ‘":v defines terrorism as “the system’ 'c use of terror especially as a means d fiCOercion " The key word in this ntinition is systematic; it implies a cthodical plan. More than anything Se> terrorism is a strategy—a strategy that applies a wide array of tactics to dominate and direct actions and choice by nullifying the will of others.
All too frequently, we fail to view terrorism as a composite of physical and psychological phenomena with effects that go far beyond the sum of its parts. In other words, there is much more to terrorism than meets the eye, or for that matter, any of the other senses; surely, those who orchestrate and choreograph the music and dance of terrorism are to be respected. They are masters in predicting the perception and response of their intended victim when presented with stressful physiological and psychological events. Terrorism is, after all, the most cost- effective form of war, especially when the form of war does not take on the mantle of either formal declaration or open conflict between nations.
Against this backdrop, I suggest that we, the West, are today engaged in a sociopsychological war of endurance which has as its principal weapons words, economics, resources, and terrorism. Targeting has thus far been focused mainly on land areas that once were the outposts of our industrialized world; now, they are nation-states vitalized by independence and technology. These sovereign developing states possess at least a portion of the resources required for the survival of all. The notions of absolute self-sufficiency by any nation have been replaced by the truths of need and dependence on international free trade. The sea-lanes through the Arabian Gulf, Indian Ocean, South Atlantic, and Caribbean constitute the critical arteries of the Western world—critical routes for merchant fleets largely owned and operated by private enterprise. Without these vessels, historically guaranteed the “right to innocent and safe passage,” the system fails. But the size of any fleet operated by the private sector is also a product of economics. Competition is keen; the margin for error narrow.
Today's war of words is accompanied by increasingly frequent episodes of disruptive and divisive acts of violence, both physical and psychological. Political unrest and instability, assassination, intimidation, exploitation, revolt, civil war, and terrorism are terms that underlie the daily media coverage of events throughout the world. Our minds have been placed under assault. Half-truths abound; facts are ignored; bias is rampant. The unquestioning mind could conclude from some media reports that free enterprise is evil, competition is destructive, and multinational companies are satanic.
In 1978, little was occurring to cause concern in the oceans industry. Fraud was present, but thought to be within tolerable limits; piracy and its potential resurgence were unthinkable; terrorism amounted to hijackings in the airline industry, a sensational bombing, or an occasional kidnapping. But even those industries adversely affected failed to meet the problem head- on, failed to see the larger issue, failed to recognize that kidnapping for ransom constitutes an excellent way to finance terrorism.
In the last decade, both governments and industries were slow to react. Those victimized by criminal incidents tended to view each incident in isolation, focusing only on the immediate adversity of the event. Unless affected directly, the broader implications were seldom recognized other than by a handful of people involved in security, intelligence, and law enforcement. Most frequently, their voices were lost in the wind.
Clear understanding begins with the recognition that fraud, extortion, and theft are ways by which the criminal entrepeneur derives his living. On a higher level of cognition, these acts may also be part of a terrorist strategy. Piracy falls into the same category—history’s lessons are resplend-
Congress needs to take preventive action against terrorism on the high seas—before more of our merchantmen are devoured by this insatiable maritime beast.
ent in detail. For ancient Greece, Rome, and Carthage, piracy was an accepted form of naval warfare; the Vikings and Moors also practiced this black art. For that matter, European maritime nations used piracy as an instrument of national policy throughout periods ranging from the 16th to late 18th centuries. The United States once fought a war (1801-05) over this very issue with the Barbary state of Tripoli, now the capital city of Muam- mar Al-Qadaffi’s Libya. Piracy did not disappear from the seas until after the American Civil War, and then only because of the general agreement among nations that the international menace was unacceptable. The interdiction of the sea-lanes of commerce by pirates all but ceased, with the exception of a few specific waters.
Terrorism shares some commonality with piracy. It, too, may be found throughout the pages of history, applied to describe wars of liberation, revolution, and civil strife. There, the commonality ends. Terrorism is a strategy; piracy is a tactic. As such, any group, faction, or country is free to adopt the strategy which in turn implements the widest array of crime as its tactics—murder, fraud, theft, hijacking, bombing, and piracy. Admittedly, it is doubtful that the criminal entrepreneur would adopt the strategy of terrorism, but the remote possibility does exist.
Will terrorism go to sea? Has it already? These questions persist, and the answers remain subject to opposing opinions and conflicting analyses.
There is, however, little reason to suppose it will not happen.
Admittedly, the Western world tends to be reactive by nature. We cope with problems only out of necessity after they appear; we are not preventive. It is the specific act of piracy that is ot paramount concern to the victim. Yet. little or nothing is done to anticipate the probability of future occurrences; consequently, early detection and/or preventive actions are fairly nonexistent. Second, other business or industrial entities should have taken note but do not—unless directly affected. The complexities of terrorism suggest that seemingly unrelated criminal incidents relate, apparent motives may not be as they appearand pattern may be as important as form.
In dealing with the issue of crime or terrorism in the maritime environment, the need for accurate, reliable, and definitive intelligence should be
apparent to all. It is the cornerstone
to understanding and, for that matter, is the basis for all other proactive actions in reaching eventual solutions- This is not to suggest that each maritime business need enter into a secretive and covert enterprise collecting tidbits of information from around the world. Rather, it implies that each should have an overt capacity to apprehend facts and propositions, reason their possible implications, and then take action accordingly.
If intelligence is the cornerstone, then training is the foundation; without the two. there can be no substan-
Number % of Total Number
1982 Incident Recapitulation 1 Jan-10 Nov 82
Incident
Air Attack | 1 | 1.29 |
Air Raid | 2 | 2.59 |
Ambush | i | 1.29 |
Disorderly Conduct | i | 1.29 |
Explosion | 4 | 5.19 |
Homicide | 2 | 2.59 |
Mine | i | 1.29 |
Mutiny | 2 | 2.59 |
Piracy | 20 | 25.97t |
Protest | 2 | 2.59 |
Rescue | 3 | 3.89 |
Sabotage | 2 | 2.59 |
Theft | 1 | 1.29 |
Vessel Attack | 6 | 7.79 |
Vessel Detained | 3 | 3.89 |
Vessel Fired At | 2 | 2.59 |
Vessel Seized | 2 | 2.59 |
War Casualty | 15 | 19.48 |
Warning | 7 | 9.09 |
| 77 | 100.00 |
ah°tC 'nc'^ents recorded are only those reported. Many others likely are not reported. Also, the Mth lnc'c*ents are probably a reflection of the more sensational incidents which are difficult to keep
12
Piracy Incidents 1 Jan-10 Nov 82
Numbered
^ °ur of these five incidents occurcd on one vessel (Afran Slur) during the period 27 Mar.-18 Apr 82. S(?lte ^orc than half the incidents of piracy took place in the Philip Channel. Scnipah. Singapore, the u,h China Sea. and the Strait of Malacca. This is the same area in which eight acts of piracy ^recorded in 1981. These incidents included attacks on four tankerships and resulted in Maritime T'nistration Advisory 81-9. released 25 September 1981.
A.
B.
C.
D.
E.
F.
G.
H.
I.
J.
K.
L.
M.
N.
O.
P.
Q.
R.
S.
^ong Kong ntlian Ocean lreland ^igeria
Channel
^enipah
China Sea rait of Malacca 1 "ailand
21
Iv.e structure. Few mariners in the rivate sector are security-minded. itVen 'n cases of those with prior milary training, little seems to have been C ‘lnsierred to the tasks being per- rrned today. Without sensitivity to bareness of the problem, without .stained and continuous flow of in- ^ rmation, without mastery of skills Cst Earned through training, it is lit- % of Total Number
100.00
tie wonder that our guard is seldom raised.
The first line of defense for any vessel rests within the jurisdictional responsibility of the master. At the moment of crisis, he typically has only his ship and crew with which to respond. What does or does not happen in that “moment” may be critical to all other subsequent events. Predictably, the response will be a product of awareness and training. The crew is not lacking in defense, except against the most dedicated adversaries, who, when the way is made easy, are all but assured of success. This success often spells destruction for the ship and death for her crew. Such destruction and death could be avoided by not acquiescing to the thoughtless following of a traditional set routine—such as accepting the pilot boat unchallenged—a procedure that proved financially disastrous to at least two ships within British waters. To be sure, law enforcement agencies and/or the military forces stand prepared in most nations to assist within the limits of their respective laws. Regardless of that assistance, it may not come with the immediacy desired.
Much can be done within the oceans industry to cope with the emerging beast of maritime terrorism and piracy. Within the United States, for example, three actions are suggested:
► The establishment of a federal mechanism through which intelligence information germane to the maritime threat can be routinely exchanged between industry and agencies of government
► The development of voluntary marine security guidelines for terminal facilities, ports, offshore assets, and vessels
► The development of a national contingency plan that provides maritime agencies/industries interface and coordinated responses necessary to react effectively and efficiently to piracy threats.
To a greater or lesser extent, these steps are appropriate wherever t he right of "innocent and safe passage” is of value. Those concerned might well question and examine the initiatives (or lack thereof) being taken within industry, government, or consulting firms to counter the threat. If analysis reveals negligence, then efforts must be made to enhance the security posture within the maritime environment—marked by deed as well as dialogue. To do less is to procrastinate.
Colonel Macnair is a graduate of the Naval War College and the Army's Command and General Staff College, where he also served on the faculty. His diversified career has included assignments ranging the spectrum of command and staff, with occupational specialties in law enforcement, security, and intelligence. He is currently employed by a petroleum-based multinational corporation.
The Hydra Launch
By Captain John E. Draim, U. S. Navy (Retired)
As missiles and rockets grow in size, problems associated with launching from naval vessels may become unmanageable. A relatively simple and straightforward solution to this problem lies in the use of the vertical floating launch technique. Rockets are suitably waterproofed, and their buoyancy is adjusted through design or jettisoned-at-launch flotation devices to make them float vertically in the water. Such a rocket can be either dropped from a surface ship or released from a submarine: its launcher, or launchpad, is the water itself.
Most rockets, being cylindrical in shape, are not at all difficult to waterproof. If there is a problem, an outer canister can be provided, which will float vertically and act as a “launcher" for the missile. At the end of World War II. the German missile engineers at Peenemunde were constructing a large canister to contain a V-2, which could be towed behind a submarine. Their plan was to surface at night off New York City and ballast the container to a vertical position. The hinged nose cap of the container would open, and the V-2 would be fired into the most densely populated portion of Manhattan. Fortunately, the war ended before this precursor to Polaris could be demonstrated!
A U. S. counterpart was “Project Hydra,” conceived by personnel of the U. S. Naval Missile Center at Point Mugu, California, in January 1960. Its purpose was to develop the vertical floating launch technology, and apply it to both long-range missiles and satellite boosters. It was believed that larger rockets and missiles had more to gain from this type of launch than the smaller, tactical types. Several dozen successful launches were carried out between 1960 and 1965. Some of these launches were short-burning boilerplate missiles, or highly instrumented rockets to investigate launch transient and underwater ignition effects. Other rockets tested were scientific research probe rockets. The most notable in this latter category was the Hydra-Iris, which was successfully launched on several occasions. On 26 January 1965, one of these rockets was launched from the Atlantic Ocean 1,000 miles east of Buenos Aires; it carried a 125-pound scientific instrument payload to an altitude of 154 nautical miles. All data were successfully returned by telemetry.
In the early 1960s, the follow-on “Project Tidal” was started at the Point Mugu Naval Missile Center. Its objective was to demonstrate the floating launch of an encapsulated Polaris A3 missile. By the time this program was cancelled in 1965, it was generally conceded that the feasibility of this type of launch had been proven.
In December 1980, when the controversy on MX missile-basing modes was raging, the author headed up a study group to investigate placing MX missiles on board fast SL-7 contain- erships (as a near-term system), and then carrying the same missiles on board smaller surface effect ships as a far-term solution. The missiles would be launched on receipt of a launch command by dropping them overboard, where they would assume a vertical floating position and be launched within a minute or two from jettison time.
Opponents of surface ship strategic missile basing invariably overstate the vulnerability of surface ships. Operating at ICBM ranges far from Soviet bases, yet close to U. S. air and naval bases, these fast missile ships would be widely dispersed, employing tactics designed to conceal their positions. The argument that surface ships can be seen by satellites overlooks many factors. Cloud cover, darkness, and bad weather degrade satellite surveillance. just as they do ship or aircraft surveillance. Also, a wide variety of electronic countermeasures
could be used against satellites, just as they are against surface- and air- based systems.
Admiral Thomas H. Moorer, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, participating in a seminar sponsored by the Congressional Research Service on 23 March 1981, said, ‘ ‘There is no way that you could attack all these ships on the sea simultaneously. . . . Ten thousand ships are out in the ocean today, and I submit that if you mix these ships up on the sea-lanes, the Soviets are going to have a hell of a time trying to identify them and attack them.” It certainly would appear that a surprise first strike against our silo-based ICBMs, whose locations are pinpointed by the enemy- could be mounted with nuclear detonations timed to occur simultaneously. It is quite another thing t0 simultaneously sink dozens of moving ships in various geographic locations-
The floating launch offers many sig' nificant advantages. First, it is probably the least expensive way yet devised to launch missiles, since the launch pad is free. Second, it permits virtually unlimited salvo (simultaneous) fire, since there can be no saturation of the launchers (i.e., 1,1 oceans themselves). Third, it provides a high degree of safety for the launching ship or launching crew, since there is a safe distance at the time of first' stage ignition. Finally, the technique places the least requirements on the ships with regard to launch equip' ment. Many types of merchant ships-
as well as naval ships, could carry the missiles so that they could be slid or dropped into the water with a mini- nturn amount of expensive modifica- hons to the missile-carrying ships.
Finally, the Soviet Navy has been Using the Hydra launch method for its SLBMs for years. Instead of the dense, solid-propellant missiles of specific gravity greater than one which our own Navy uses, the Soviets employ the buoyant, floating launch with their liquid-propellant missiles of specific gravity less than one. After floating to lhe surface, they exhibit a high degree °f stability and the launch is always Very close to the vertical (as compared w'th U. S. SLBMs which often launch through the surface at a considerable angle from the vertical).
Possibly, the Hydra-type sea launch of rockets may find application in fields °utside the arena of strategic missilery. Other attractive uses would Probably include a survivable military satellite booster. (After the mushroom ^Jouds dissipate from Vandenberg and v-ape Canaveral, what other launch pad ls left?) Antisatellite weapons could make use of the mobility of a launch ship; they could position themselves under the perigee of highly elliptic satellites, for example. There has been much concern in recent years about our lack of naval gunfire in support of amphibious operations. Hydra- launched ballistic bombardment missiles could be dropped overboard from naval combatants, and even from merchant ships. Using global positioning system (GPS) guidance, pinpoint accuracy could be obtained on fixed targets ashore. The salvo fire capability of the Hydra launch would be translated into a devastating concentration of firepower, with all warheads arriving on target simultaneously.
In a January 1982 Proceedings article, Captain Robert C. Powers proposes an “offensive-passive" surface ship combatant. His article is forwardlooking, and recognizes the need to employ advances in concepts and technology to achieve greatly improved capabilities. One possible improvement is to abandon the idea that the large, long-range rocket-propelled missiles need to be fired from on-board
vertical launchers. Instead, the "slide in the water" Hydra launch would be employed. It is a cheaper, safer, and lighter system (even with much larger missiles). Where smaller tactical missiles for antiair defense are required, an on-board launch may well be preferred. But for land-attack, long-range antiship, long-range ASW and similar missions, the use of vertical floating launch Hydra missiles should prove advantageous. The development of this type of missile would also greatly facilitate wartime mobilization, in that they could be rather easily launched from merchant or noncombatant-type ships, with a minimum of modification.
Captain Draim is a 1949 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, and holds M.S. and E.A.A. degrees in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He is a former naval aviator and was project manager (1959-62) for Project Hydra. He holds nine U. S. patents in the fields of floating launch rockets and EVA/rocket attitude control.
Is the Military Budget Out of Balance?
Stanley A. Horowitz
Occasionally, one reads or hears c°mplaints that the United States sPends too much money on fancy new ec)uipment and not enough to man and support it adequately. These beliefs are based on two observations: first, readiness is perceived to be so low uat spending more on it must be a 8°od buy; second, the political proCess and the timing of expenditures c°nspire to make hardware easier to SeH and support easier to cut.
If this is true, the United States is Setting less defense for its money than 11 should be. Improving the level of Public discussion of defense expend- ures requires an analysis of whether 1 ls cheaper to get additional defense Capability by buying more forces, or y spending more to keep smaller °rces working.
. This issue is addressed by exam- >ning four case S(Ut|jes which were done the Center for Naval Analyses dur- ln8 the past 12 years. Although these studies examine Navy systems, there ls no reason to believe that analyses 1 Air Force and Army systems would
yield significantly different results. Each analysis focuses on the production of weapon system availability by application of additional support resources.
The case studies look at the value of spare parts and people in producing equipment readiness. Specifically, they address the payoff of additional spare parts for repairing ships, fixed-wing aircraft, and helicopters, and of additional personnel on board surface combatants. Each of these four examples includes a description of research being drawn on and the quantitative relationships derived between support expenditures and system availability; costs of buying availability through support are compared with the cost of availability implicit in the life-cycle cost of equipment.
Yet, this approach cannot yield a definitive answer to questions about budgetary balance. First, it is based on only four data points. Second, it incompletely treats cases of partial capability. A ship or airplane with a broken part can successfully perform some missions; it couldn't have if it had not been bought. Third, this analysis ignores issues of employment and tactics. Is it really the same to have twice the forces that work half the time as half the forces that work all the time? Probably not, but the direction of bias is not clear. Here, the two are assumed to be equivalent. Finally, the argument that support can improve after we get the equipment—so let’s get the hardware now and beef up support when a crisis comes—is discounted. Support isn’t something that can be improved so quickly. Parts often take a year to be delivered from the manufacturer; it takes a long time to train the people required. When we are not prepared to fight with what we’ve got, chances are good that we’ll end up fighting.
Despite these qualifications, this analysis is adequate enough to demonstrate the general conclusion that we’d be better buying less hardware and supporting it more. Let us now turn to the four case studies.
Repair Paris for Shipboard Ecpdp-
Table 1 Readiness and Ship Repair Parts
| Expected | Life | Disabling |
| Serious Failures | Cycle Cost | Failure Days |
| (Per Month) | (SMillion) | (Per Month) |
Current policy | 69 | 1 | 17 |
Modified policy | 32 | 1.4 | 8 |
| Table 2 Constant Cost Trade-offs for the F-4B |
| |
| Squadron | Spares | Ready Hours |
| Size | (S Thousands) | (Per Month) |
Actual | 12 | 306 | 4,229 |
Optimum | 11 | 383 | 5,963 |
merit: In order to expeditiously repair broken equipment, each U. S. Navy ship is authorized to carry a selected set of repair parts. If a failure occurs and the proper part is not on board, repair will be delayed—perhaps substantially—while the part is ordered and transported from some distant point. It has been the Navy’s policy to stock all parts on board ship that are expected to fail at least once every four years and not stock those which fail less frequently.
Analysis of failure rates on board Knox-class frigates showed that this policy leads to 69 serious failures per month that are not covered by on board stock.' A serious failure is one associated with a part that is necessary for a ship to perform fully at least one of her primary missions. The Shipboard Parts Allowance Policy Study examined the readiness implications of changing the stocking procedures. In particular, it looked at the effect of stocking critical parts which were predicted to fail at least once every ten years. As Table 1 shows, this policy shift could be expected to cut serious uncovered failures by more than half at a marginal cost of $400,000.
Of course, not all failures which cause some mission-related performance degradation are debilitating. Examination of data on serious failures shows that roughly 5% of them cause complete inability to perform more than one primary mission. For our purposes, let us treat this 5% as causing complete unavailability of the ship and all other failures as harmless—clearly a conservative assumption. Further, let us assume that repairs requiring an off-ship part take only five days on an average—a con- ber of hours in a month that squadron planes are operational, was the measure of output. Three inputs were included in the analysis: the number of planes per squadron, repair personnel, and spares. Constant elasticity of substitution production functions were estimated.
servative assumption. As the last column of Table 1 shows, the modified policy cuts nine days from the expected number of disabling failure days per month. This is like buying 30% of a ship for $400,000, or a ship-equivalent for $1.33 million. The life-cycle cost of this kind of ship is roughly $500 million, 375 times as much.2 To the Navy’s credit, the modified policy is being adopted.
Aircraft Spare Parts: An early analysis of the relationship between support resources and equipment was completed in 1970.1 It used a production-function approach to establish the readiness of tactical aircraft. The analysis used monthly observations of aircraft at the squadron level. (Both deployed and training squadrons were included.) "Ready hours,” the num-
Table 2 shows the analysis results for F-4B Phantom aircraft. Holding costs constant, readiness could be increased by 40% if one plane were to be removed from the standard-sized squadron while using more spare parts to repair the others. This result held for the other aircraft types analyzed as well. One interpretation of these data is that when parts are not available, aircraft will be cannibalized— holding parts in bins is cheaper than holding them configured as aircraft.
Helicopter Parts: This recently completed analysis of a new helicopter is not one where additional tradeoffs of force levels for support would seem to be a good buy.4 It is a hard- to-support system, one which will be operating from ships in detachments of one or two. Thus, it will be difficult to pool demands for parts. In addition, this helicopter has an unusually high availability goal, making further improvements difficult.
We used a multiechelon inventory model to choose the location of spare parts to maximize availability for a given level of expenditure. We found that the ambitious availability g°a* could be achieved. We then adapted the model to examine trade-offs between more parts and more helicopters at high availability levels. It was found that a marginal shift to higher availability (i.e., 80% to 81%) and a lower force level (one helicopter less) could save about $4 million.
Shipboard Manning: Spare parts are not the only support resource which can be related to weapon system availability. In 1977, we completed an analysis of shipboard manning and readiness.' Readiness was measured by the amount of mission-degrading
equipment downtime on board 91 surface combatants over a period of about three years. Regression analysis was employed to relate equipment condition to the number and quality of men responsible for maintaining the equipment. Quality was measured by indicators such as education, test scores, experience, pay grade, and training- Six occupations were examined. The analysis took account of differences in ship age, operating tempo, and type of equipment.
Table 3 shows some results for boiler technicians on board FRAM destroyers. The 600-pound steam plants on these ships are relatively reliable; hence, they are influenced less by crew characteristics than other systems.
Using the same approximation employed in the shipboard parts example (i.e., 5% of mission-degrading downtime is disabling), we found that one additional boiler technician could produce 43 more hours of availability per year. This implies a cost of $750 per additional hour of availability. This is a quarter of what we pay for an hour of availability when we buy an additional ship.
The four case studies presented support the impression that readiness is short-changed at the budget table. Perhaps this is because, in part, the
Table 3 Manning and Readiness
Additional Availability Cost per Cost per Hour
______________ (hrslyr) Year of Availability
Man 43 $32,000' $750
Ship 8,7602 $26,000,000:i $3,000
includes amortization of training costs. This is an overstatement; no ship is available all the time. 'AH costs are FY82 dollars. We aren't buying FRAM destroyers anymore. This is an estimate of the annual cost to amortize our purchase and operate the ship if we were.
sponsors of support are unable to jus- hfy their requests in terms that appeal to decision makers. At best, logisticians try to explain their requests by noting what underfunding will do to their fill rates. The manpower com- tnunity might refer to the reenlistment rate or the petty officer shortfall. These approaches beg for, and often get, the response: “So what? What does that mean in terms of our ability to beat the Soviets?” This response is unfair;
most procurement requests don't answer this question very well. But it is quite natural that the warfighting implications of support just aren’t as obvious as those of shiny new equipment.
Support can be evaluated on the same yardstick as procurement. It appears to be in the interest of the logistics and manpower communities to ensure that such comparisons are made. The task of logistics and manpower researchers is to develop the tools for making these comparisons on a routine basis. If they are successful, we will spend a larger fraction of the defense budget on support, which will improve our defense posture.
'James L. Bagby, Cdr. CNR 12, “Shipboard Parts Allowance Policy," July 1981.
:This may be an overstatement. Reports of disabling failures show somewhat less down time than Table 1. Also, sometimes failures are simultaneous, which hasn't been accounted for; still, 375 is a very big factor.
3S. Scott Sutton et al, INS Study 32, “A Study of Aviation Resource to Readiness Relationships," June 1970.
4Peter Evanovich, CNS 1171, “Logistic Support of LAMPS Mk-III" (forthcoming).
'Stanley A. Horowitz and Cdr. Allen Sherman, CNS 1090, “Crew Characteristics and Ship Condition,” March 1977.
Mr. Horowitz is the director of the manpower, support, and readiness program at the Center for Naval Analyses in Alexandria, Virginia.
U. S. Navy Sail Training Update
Captain R. D. McWethy, U. S. Navy (Retired)
Numerous Navy training yachts ^ere evident last summer in ports along noth coasts of the United States. A 8feat deal of progress has been made !j? Navy sailing since “U. S. Navy Sail Gaining 1980” was published two years ago (December 1980 Proceed- 'fSs). At that time, the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) had tasked the Chief Naval Education and Training !lNET) with establishing a sail train- '^8 program. The U. S. Naval Sailing Association (USNSA)—formed in —with 40 branches in Navy ports ground the world, was working with °Cal commanding officers and Special ervices in Washington to make available recreational sailing for Navy per- ^°nnel. The billet. Director of Navy ailing (DONS), was established on the staff of the CNET.
The first DONS, Commander John ■ Bonds, reported for duty in Feb- fUary of 1981. Although he is on the stalf of the CNET in Pensacola, his otnce is in Annapolis for close liaison the sailing expertise at the Naval Academy. In keeping with priorities assigned by the CNO, the Director of avY Sailing gave early attention to ne 55 NROTC units, of which 33 now ave small boat sailing programs. Ad- ■tional units will be assigned boats as Unds or donations become available.
Geographical locations will restrict only four units from implementing sailing programs. Within the established programs, larger training yachts have been assigned to NROTC units and other commands as outlined in Table 1.
In all aspects of sailing, the Naval Academy sets the standards with its fleet of 130 sailing craft. Aside from basic training during plebe summer, the sailing program at the Academy now has three parts: intercollegiate competition, ocean racing, and cruise credit. Winning the Fowle Trophy, a symbol of North American intercollegiate sailing supremacy, for six successive years is a good indication the Naval Academy’s program is doing well. The Naval Academy entered 14 yachts in the 1982 Newport to Bermuda Race. In addition, eight of the Academy’s 44-foot Luders yawls and the 98-foot ketch Astral were devoted to summer training cruises for 158 midshipmen, an increase of 128 individuals since 1980.
The Astral made three coastal cruises in both 1981 and 1982, ranging from Bermuda, the Bahamas, and Florida to Nova Scotia. She is a splendid training platform, carrying 18 midshipmen on each cruise. However, the Astral is difficult to maintain, and she is for sale. As a donation to the Naval
Academy Sailing Foundation, proceeds from her sale will be applied to the sailing program at the Academy.
The Professional Development Division at the Naval Academy had full responsibility for the summer training cruises for the first time in 1981. That year, four of the yawls, the “workhorses” of the fleet, made a cruise to New England. This past summer, eight yawls were earmarked for summer cruise, leaving the other four to the offshore racers. Officers in charge (OinCs) and their assistants, almost entirely faculty volunteers, were selected in the fall. Midshipman sailing masters and executive officers were also determined at this time. Among the 16 midshipmen selected, only four were experienced varsity sailors. Officer and second classmen training, both classroom and underway, started before Christmas, and they were joined in the spring by the plebes selected from a large number of volunteers. Training culminated after exam week in the annual 360-mile qualifying cruise around the DelMarVa Peninsula which is required of all Naval Academy yachts before summer ocean sailing.
The squadron left Annapolis on 24 May, in order to complete the seven- week 3,000-mile cruise and have the yawls back for plebe basic training in
Table I Navy Sail-training Yachts
Location | Name/Sail Number | Type Yacht |
Cornell | China Doll (NSY-1) | Hudson Force 51 ketch |
Florida A&M | Conquest (NSY-2) | Gulfstar 43 sloop |
Air OCS | Hermes (NSY-3) | Gulfstar 44 ketch |
Univ. of S. Cal. | Cyane (NSY-4) | 51-foot wooden ketch |
NETC Newport | Newport (NSY-5) | S&S 50 racing sloop |
Univ. Penn. | Centaurus (NSY-6) | Morgan 01-51 ketch |
Maine Maritime | Santee (NSY-7) | Morgan 01-41 ketch |
Univ. of N. Carolina | Rainbeau (NSY-8) | Gulfstar 44 ketch |
Univ. of S. Carolina | Swamp Fox (NSY-9) | Columbia 8.7 sloop |
Tulane | Unnamed (NSY-10) | Cheoy Lee 40 sloop |
Rice | Sea Owl (NSY-11) | Whitby 42 ketch |
The Citadel | Downwind* | Custom 33-foot ketch |
U. California | Paramour* | Columbia 38 sloop |
Jacksonville | Juno I* | Custom 30-foot sloop |
Mass. Maritime | Windlass* | Custom 48-foot ketch |
NAS Patuxent | Surprise (NSY-12) | 51-foot fiberglass sloop |
Maine Maritime | Intrepid (NSY-14) | Ericson 46-foot sloop |
Univ. of Washington | (donative charter) | Block Island 40-foot yawl |
Notre Dame | Quill (on loan) | Custom 33-foot sloop |
’University or school owned
July. Each yawl was manned by five new third classmen, two new first classmen, and two officers. The third class crew members were relieved by a second group midway through the cruise, at which time the two first classmen exchanged positions. The first classmen ran their ships with the officers offering suggestions and having final responsibility for safety. An overnight sail down the Chesapeake brought the crews to their first liberty port, the Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek. After replenishing fuel, ice, and water, they set sail the following day for Bermuda. Insofar as possible, normal ship routine was carried out—from eight o’clock reports to inspections, as well as daily work on the syllabus. Each third classman had a required body of knowledge to acquire during the cruise, all in personnel qualification standards (PQS) format. Just living with nine persons at sea on a 44-foot yacht requires a considerable amount of adapting to discomfort and inconvenience. To keep the yacht neat and carry out a lesson and study routine took character, especially as the normally prevailing southwest winds did not prevail and the squadron was close-hauled three of the five days to Bermuda. Only one who has experienced it can imagine the bucking bronco motion of a small yacht beating into a 20- or 30-knot wind at sea, all superimposed on a 20° heel
and damped down with liberal doses of salt spray, if not green water. Despite this environment, medication prevented any significant seasickness problem.
Bermuda was a welcome sight, and the crews were glad to tuck the yawls into the small craft basin at the U. S. Naval Air Station off St. Georges Harbor. The midshipmen had the chance both to explore Bermuda and to see firsthand the world of Navy patrol aviation. Each went on a P-3 flight with VP-56; some flights were ten-hour antisubmarine patrols. Departure from Bermuda was delayed a day as a result of hurricane Alberto. On 6 June, the yawls sailed toward Charleston, South Carolina.
On the way to Charleston, adverse winds registered up to 35 knots for three days. But the weather did average out to provide a chance for some spinnaker work and a bit of flat calm where the engines came in handy. The crews by this time had developed a considerable ability for station-keeping, underway replenishment high-line transfers, and signalling between ships. After a nine-day transit, the yawls made their way up the Cooper River to the Charleston Naval Station where Mine Division 125 played host. The new group of third classmen had spent two weeks in Charleston as part of their cruise and the disembarking group remained there for the same duration.
After a thorough field day and some electronics repairs, the squadron headed for Fort Lauderdale on 19 June, three days behind schedule because of bad weather. At sea, the group waS again faced with strong, adverse winds- As a result, an unscheduled stop was made at Naval Station Mayport on 22 June. With gale-force winds offshore. the squadron continued south day anci night in the intracoastal waterway—a demanding exercise in piloting—atld arrived at the Bahia Mar in Fort Lauderdale on 26 June. The midshipmen had a chance to visit four Navy ship* which happened to be in port, as well as roam Florida from Key Largo to the Everglades to Disney World. N highlight at Fort Lauderdale was anchoring most of the yachts off the beach in formation for a demonstration o spinnaker flying. .
The 96 midshipmen on the yaW cruise showed themselves to be competent and impressive “arnbassu- dors.” There were no conduct problems or unfavorable incidents. The eight identical yawls with their dar' blue hulls and midshipmen crews drew attention and interest. The impression they left in each port could not have been better.
Finally, on 3 July, the squadron headed north. A combination of *a' vorable winds and the Gulf Stream produced speeds over the ground 0 better than nine knots. But the secon
took the first of four three-week
• . .tyiici a unci aiup in
tttle Creek, the yawls arrived in An- n‘lPolis on 10 July with crews justifi- a y proud of their accomplishments. In 1982, for the first time, 123 KOTC midshipmen had a sail train- 8 option for summer cruise in six of e NROTC-operated training yachts, ‘hough the units at Cornell, Florida ‘pM, and the University of Penn- Tlvania cruised in 1981, it was not “°ne for credit. In 1982, CNET ap- ^roved the six-yacht effort on a pilot
One of these six yachts was the Uni- ersity of North Carolina’s Rainbeau.
ter being seized for drug smuggling, in £pWas impounded for many months ampa, Florida, before she became j. ailable to the Navy through the ef- ^rts °f the Director of Navy Sailing. s ls too often the case in confisca- , ns> the craft was in miserable con- w10n when acquired by the Navy. She j^as taken to Charleston where the np.adiness Support Group and person- j °f the NROTC unit put her back snhVacht condition. The NROTC mid- the^ITlen continued work on her after (lC Rainbeau arrived at her base on Neuse River at Marine Corps Air \y°n’ Cherry Point, North Carolina, cn insufficient time to give pre- th^rs tra'n'nS to the third classmen, 'nsh^*^S certified the Rainbeau for A] k°re ant* coastai cruising. Captain unit °Ster’ command'nS officer of the cruises down the Neuse to Okrakoke Island on the Outer Banks then on to Norfolk and Annapolis where they made the first crew change. Ensign Will Kain, a talented sailor who had just graduated from the University of North Carolina (UNC), was assigned to the Rainbeau for the entire summer. It fell to my lot to go out for the first day sail from Annapolis with the new group of third classmen and to pinch hit as OinC for a day, at the end of that week, en route from Annapolis to Baltimore. I was impressed by several things: that the mids scarcely knew port from starboard the first day; the efficiency and organization of the NROTC staff; the enthusiasm of the students; and how much they learned in just five days of local cruising. The Rainbeau sailed from Baltimore to Philadelphia for the city's 300th Anniversary, where the crew received a royal reception. The University of North Carolina joined Cornell and the University of Pennsylvania training yachts for the American Sail Training Association’s tall ships race from Cape May to Newport where the third UNC group took over for cruising in Long Island Sound.
Retention in the NROTC units alone may be enough to justify the sailing program. So far, correlations appear positive and significant between sailing and retention. Cornell's NROTC unit, with three solid years of innovative sailing experience, retained nearly 90% of their sophomore class this year, double the national average in previous years. The freshman class of NROTC midshipmen is their largest ever. The sail training cruises since 1977 have had approximately 100% satisfied “customers” with their combination of professional experience and high adventure. The fleet cruises vary; some are outstanding. At the Naval Academy last year, however, in postsummer cruise critiques, some 35% of the midshipmen rated their “grey ship” cruises as unsatisfactory. Lieutenant (junior grade) Ted Snider was a Naval Academy varsity sailor and participated in the two-yawl summer cruise in 1980. In a recent letter, he said: “That trip was one of the most professionally rewarding and personally satisfying experiences I have had while in the Navy. There is no [other] program at the Naval Academy that comes close to providing the superb leadership training afforded the first class
midshipman . . . that the [sailing] cruise credit program provided. Furthermore, I have found that the seamanship and navigation skills I developed through sailing have put me head and shoulders above my contemporaries here at SWOS.
While primary attention has been placed on the highly visible summer training cruises, they are but a small part of the overall program. Most NROTC midshipmen from units without small boat sailing programs are being offered the opportunity to learn basic sailing during second class summer cruise. Only officer acquisition through the Officer Candidate School now lacks regular sailing opportunity. To fill the CN O mandate for mid-grade officer training, the DONS is endeavoring to place training yachts in areas where junior officers are likely to be assigned for their first shore duty. The sloop Newport operates as our primary model in that New England town. Her crew consists of officers from the various training staffs there, working toward qualification as “senior skipper” offshore. The Newport has twice raced to Bermuda with active duty crews, including several Naval Academy Preparatory School students who will be future assets to the Naval Academy racing program.
To support the effort in equipment, the DONS has developed a standardized curriculum for basic sailing—“A,” mate, and “B,” skipper—and has coded the skills and knowledge required for advancement through to “C,” racing skipper, and “D,” senior skipper. These levels of qualification are documented in the PQS system and are being promulgated from the Annapolis office. A standard qualification and sailing log booklet has been produced. This booklet indicates both the level of qualification and the actual sailing experience of the individual. At the offshore level, a comprehensive examination for senior skipper qualification has been implemented. It is based in large measure on the surface ship command qualification exam and the British yachtmaster certificate. To qualify as an “E,” master skipper, a candidate senior skipper must have sailed at least 1,000 miles offshore as a skipper or watch captain in two or more races and be recognized as capable of racing a yacht safely anywhere in the world. To document the achievement of these levels of qualification, in addition to the log booklet, an additional qualification designator has been created. This designator will print on the officer’s data card, making the information readily available to detailers.
Fleet sail training has lagged because of arduous ship schedules and general lack of sailing expertise among officers. However, the latter is rapidly being overcome by the massive input to the fleet of junior officers with sailing experience. The DONS has developed a ready-made course of instruction which can be taught on board ship, then followed by on-the-water instruction at a shore base recreational sailing facility. More than 40 ships have requested and been provided this information. Some ships carry their own sailing craft. As demonstrated by the USS John F. Kennedy (CV-67) earlier this year, a shipboard sailing fleet and organization can be even more than a training and recreational vehicle. The Kennedy's executive officer wrote to the Royal Perth Yacht Club before a visit to that Australian city and asked if they might sail the ship’s ten Lasers from the club and also have a race. The hospitable response was overwhelming, and the exchange was mutually enjoyable for the club and the ship’s personnel.
Finally, the Navy-wide branches and individual members of the U. S. Naval Sailing Association have continued to support recreational sailing at local shore commands and they are supporting the efforts of the DONS. More shore stations are building or improving marina facilities to find they both furnish a welcome service and generate funds to augment the entire recreational program. With additional duty on the staff of the Commander Naval Military Personnel Command, the Director of Navy Sailing is Pr0‘ viding assistance to the recreational program in terms of choices in buying new boats and advice on a standard system of operation, maintenance, and equipment replacement. He has visited most major bases, reviewed their sailing operations, and submitted recommendations for improvement to their commanders. We have come a long way from the “Catch-22” situation which prevailed a dozen years ago when commands were reluctant to invest in recreational sailing craft because there was "no demand.” There was no demand because so few Navy people were capable of handling a boat under sail, and there was no way to learn without boats.
Navy recreational sailing is essentially self-supporting. Sail training haS been initiated by the Navy investment in one billet with a talented and energetic incumbent as DONS, a minimal budget, and virtually no capita' expenditure. Training yachts have come from donations or confiscated assets. These training yachts require maintenance and the small craft effort takes support, so the ultimate size o the program will depend on the funding level. The return on investment looks as if it is going to be high. Although the ultimate goal is to contribute to fleet seamanship readiness, there are also dividends in enhanced recruiting and retention. Sailing is fu£ and leads to a love for the seas which is the basis for the naval profession-
A 1942 graduate of the Naval Academy. 0'apta‘ McWethy has been Executive Secretary of *
U. S. Naval Sailing Association since 1972. is also a volunteer sailing coach at the Nav Academy and has served as OinC on numerous offshore races and training cruises. His artic for the Proceedings on sail training include, Na Sailing,” June 1973, pages 109-111, "Navy Sailing Programs,” September 1969, pages 112-1 •
and “U. S. Navy Sail Training 1980,” Decenibe 1980, pages 97-100.