This html article is produced from an uncorrected text file through optical character recognition. Prior to 1940 articles all text has been corrected, but from 1940 to the present most still remain uncorrected. Artifacts of the scans are misspellings, out-of-context footnotes and sidebars, and other inconsistencies. Adjacent to each text file is a PDF of the article, which accurately and fully conveys the content as it appeared in the issue. The uncorrected text files have been included to enhance the searchability of our content, on our site and in search engines, for our membership, the research community and media organizations. We are working now to provide clean text files for the entire collection.
IfonMDon’t Talk) Tactics
Commander Frederick J. Glaeser, U. S. Navy
ti II scenario describes what essen- battl happened t0 a U. S. Navy carrier “e 6 ®™up *n a recent exercise. The (raj1611'-' . was a highly disciplined Aus- shi *an ^r’8ate simulating a Soviet missile cjrP' While extenuating and mitigating an<jUrnStanCeS no doubt surrounded this can Llmdar incidents, the basic factors tnann6 SUrrmiar‘zed in a straightforward
^ U q f
and h Iorces knew the general position ^hii 6 sPec'l'c intent of their opponent, e the “enemy” was well beyond the
fla efS’on was building on board the eneS *ast known position of the
est'111^ WaS ^°Ur days °^> and—given his patedated Speed °i' advance—the antici- Yet attac^ m'Sbt come at any moment. Sea hS ^aWn aPPr°ached on the Arabian a> oth surface and air surveillance had ^•ed nothing of interest, fac ltl0Ut Warn>ng. two surface-to-sur- carr' m’SS'*es slammed into the aircraft j,e er> and the “general quarters” alarm
gan its strident—but belated—call to action.
This
range of either group’s organic sensors.
► The U. S. forces had a distinct advantage in numbers and force mix, i.e., air and surface assets versus only surface assets.
► U. S. forces enjoyed a substantial technological advantage.
In this particular exercise, the Australians had one clear advantage: U. S. forces were limited to a relatively small geographic area because of operational and logistic constraints. But the Australians used several innovative tactics to achieve victory:
► Choice of a route of approach which U. S. analysts viewed as impractical and improbable
► Maintenance of strict electronic silence for many days and nights, while blending with high-density shipping lanes (they relied on well-trained lookouts day and night in heavy traffic, a concept which U. S. planners considered most unlikely)
► Deceptive lighting during the final approach on the carrier under cover of darkness
The Australians lacked the strength for
a direct attack, so they out-thought their more numerous and more technically sophisticated opponent.
Those who have worked closely with the Australian and British navies usually are quick to acknowledge their discipline, operational crispness, and tactical ingenuity. Critics of comparisons between their forces and ours are just as quick to point out the advantages these Commonwealth nations have: generally well-educated personnel, the majority of whom are career-oriented, and less frantic operating tempos.
No debate on the relative merits of these factors would alter the conclusion
Developing good tactics means that we must evaluate our procedures regularly. For instance, by identifying the Soviet carrier Minsk with a code word instead of her name, is the crew of this S-3 Viking giving more valuable information to the enemy than to its own forces?
training opportunity, and temporal muddied the tactical mainstream m attempt to look good.
Bad Habits: During a battle group
rily
an
the carrier s tected. Postexercise that interceptor crews had taken g1
rea<
hug'
clut'
pains to search diligently for a wave ging incoming raid. (Searching sea
Air wing tactics boards can separate tactical wheat and chaff to produce the unit’s “bread and butter”— precise, effective tactics executed by proficient officers.
that some of our seagoing contemporaries do much more thinking about tactics; the beneficial results of their investment are demonstrated to us regularly. I will provide examples of poor procedures or techniques to illustrate the shortcomings of our own tactical thinking.
Simple Errors: A carrier air wing devised an antiship strike concept which required a radar surveillance aircraft to locate the target ship and pass her coordinates to the bombers once they were airborne. The bomber crews simply entered these coordinates in their attack computers and flew the strike profile. Several consecutive practice strikes failed to find the intended target. When tempers and accusations yielded to calmer reason, the problem was discovered. The aircraft carrier’s inertial navigation system was used to “align” the navigation systems of all the air wing aircraft prior to launch. The surveillance crews, trying to be precise, would update their navigation system by radar fixes once airborne, often correcting errors of several nautical miles. (In this particular situation, the training area was close enough to land to permit highly accurate radar fixes.) The strike crews, maintaining radar silence and keeping their initially set shipboard navigation reference, consistently missed the target by the same amount the surveillance crews had corrected. The solution was simple: the surveillance aircraft kept its original navigation data and accurate strikes were made when both detection and attack were conducted in the same relative reference system.
Lack of Understanding: A U. S. Navy guided missile cruiser made a simulated night attack on a carrier battle group in the Indian Ocean; surface visibility was good, and traffic densities were low. In spite of these conditions, the commanding officer of the cruiser attempted a “low probability of intercept” use of his surface search radar during the approach. The ship’s radar transmitted for very short periods at random intervals, sometimes with a frequency shift. High above, and many miles away, the crew of a surveillance aircraft used computer-controlled electronic support measures (ESM) to keep track of this well-meaning but inept opponent until a counterstrike was executed. During the exercise debrief, the cruiser’s operations officer was defensive until he was shown a radar scope photograph of his approach, with an ESM strobe bisecting his position. (We often fail to comprehend the advancing capabilities of practical weapon systems when new technology is deployed.)
Compliance with Poor Procedures: This problem arises frequently when fleet personnel attempt to comply with operations security rules established by nonoperators. It is normal for a carrier battle group to use aircraft to perform surface surveillance within a given radius of the force. Most such concepts require an aircraft to report by radio when contacts are discovered, providing identification and position of the vessel which has been located. Positions are usually “protected” by using a reference system (range/bear- ing or grid) with an origin known only to the participants. For example, a carrier aircraft might fly over an East German freighter and report her identity by code word and her position in degrees/nauti- cal miles from a prebriefed latitude/ longitude. Unfortunately, an intelligence analyst on the freighter, listening to the voice report and realizing he has just been overflown, can now determine the meaning of the code word and, assuming he knows his own position, easily unravel the “secret” of the reference system—• which is complicating matters for the overworked U. S. sailor trying to plot the
surface picture. It would clearly be muc simpler to report all contacts by actua name or description, and latitude longitude. Friendly forces should not be mentioned, but can be recorded for refer ence at debrief.
Misinterpretation of Results: A favor ite bogus tactic of mine is the use of trxan gulation to locate a platform which lS jamming search radars in a battle group- For example, Unit A (a ship) is being jammed and has a line of bearing to 1 source. Unit B (an aircraft) is also being jammed and has a similar line of bearing- Assuming that A and B are using [ e same radar frequency, or that the H1" ming platform is covering multiple n quencies, the bearings can be used t® generate a fix. Repeatedly, I have hear sincere operators describe their success using this technique in exercises and a vocating its acceptance as a tactical pr° cedure. However, U. S. Navy exercise* frequently work against only one janin'1- per frequency, or one platform jamming many frequencies, because of limited re sources. When this triangulation concep is attempted against multiple jammer*’ ambiguous “fixes” result. Virtually a wartime scenarios assume jamming ■> multiple sources, effectively negating this concept.
Misguided Gamesmanship: In a care fully planned electronic warfare exercis off the U. S. coast, a rare opportunity, brought together a realistic number radar jammers. The jamming was limite to a specific portion of the radar »e quency spectrum to avoid interference with nearby air traffic control rada^ During the exercise, one unit exceed expected performance in heavy jammuv Subsequent “lessons learned” cited t
excellence of the unit’s countermeasure training and listed tactical procedure* which experienced operators questione • A deeper look revealed that their tach had been “misguided gamesmanship ■ they had cheated by switching to rad ^ frequencies outside the well-publiciz exercise frequencies. Unfortunately, m . cheated themselves out of an excels
aif
defense exercise, almost 80% of the op posing raid aircraft (21 of 27) penetrate outer air defenses unde analysis reveale
ter with radar is always a challenge.) 1 raiders had simply flown inbound at unu sually high altitudes, flying over the in
rigorous assessment of
Insuffi
fleet Kiii - pnont>' (fo x diets tor tacticians)
;.,Lack Of infeemtv ,
loses
’)
disci" fr°m eacb appropriate aviation g0 *P lne and from the ship’s company. (a| r s Were required to meet regularly niMt??St Weekly) and attendance was
“andatory
attendance only those
djffi J* ,0rs' Hab'tual practice for the most disre<>- * ^ad resubed in a widespread Wa ,®3r *°r s'mP'e an<-l straightfor- defenl'PPr°aCl1' a8e_old problem of the rv m? a^a'nst tbe probable instead of Possible is alive and well.)
Sincg our officer corps is for the most worldmte igent’ dedicated> and hard
flawed'f’A*10"^ C3n °Ur tact'cs be so
includes- *'St poss'kie explanations
we 3Ck ^nowledge and training in guy’s*)11 s^steiT,s (ours and the other
taCficsdeqUate t'me ava'iub'u to develop
^ No objective, tactics
'cient priority (for example, no integrity (nobody ever
lution |Cf t'13n Present a hypothetical so- actuai ° ^*S Problern’ I will describe an effect' S?StCni wb'cb produced precise, office*VeJ.acdcs and tactically proficient Id S fM military urdt 'nvolved was a
famil'- UV^ carr'er a'r wing. Those not it sur'ar W*t*1 carrier operations may find comm051*1® [^at tbe air w'ng is a separate comm'311^ subordinate to the ship’s targelv^'u8 officer but employing a achie , lndePcndent tactical doctrine to are taVC 0Perational objectives. Air wings Wing CllhCally autonomous, and no two air 3lth0S Skare a common tactical doctrine, -j, U8b many similarities exist, prog *S Part'cular air wing had a tactics tion ^a*11 established by written instruc- lished taCt'cs executive board was cstab- nian r’ CornPrised of the squadrons’ com- tniss'°fficers. The air wing’s fare f nf Were grouped into related war- rine *S ^ant*a'r’ antiship, antisubma- f0 ’ etc-)- A separate tactics board was a so C /°r eac^ m*ssion area, headed by flcerM*1 commanding or executive of- drawn ‘ ,cmbcrsb'P °f these boards was
vyat....... 3' excusing only those on
uf, ' (There was much complaining tj,e , constant meetings at first, but most cam 6rS Worked willingly once it be- atl(j e c*ear that the boards had a purpose •bade visible progress.) mis ..e b°ards examined each assigned Wjt|S'?n and established working groups the ■ . ^ defined tasks. For example,
survan!lsurface warfare board had surface grou61 atlCe and antiship strike working lan UfS ^ specific task for the surveil- Ce 8r°up might be the resolution of
ultra-high frequency communications problems plaguing recent surveillance operations. The strike group might be tasked to gather the available information on the capabilities and vulnerabilities of a new shipboard missile system and to assess the effectiveness of current strike tactics against this new threat.
In response to tactical deficiencies or changing threats, a board modified existing tactics or wrote new ones. Following a “quality control” review for safety, tactics board members planned a series of exercises in which the new concept would be tried. Board members briefed the missions, flew in them, debriefed them, and wrote summaries. After several executions (to filter out distractions such as weather or equipment malfunctions), the board met to evaluate the results. If there was a perceived gain in effectiveness as a result of the new procedure, lessons learned were incorporated into a draft tactical proposal. The executive board then reviewed the concept while other members of the air wing (those not involved in the development process) tried the tactics and provided comments; the executive board then made a judgment.
Approved tactics became the “bible” for the air wing. Mission planners were not permitted to deviate from approved tactics unless safety or an unusual aspect of the operation dictated a change. The philosophy was that well thought-out tactics, executed with the precision born of familiarity and practice, were most likely to succeed.
Tactical standardization did not excuse anyone for failure to apply common sense to the specific situation at hand. Far from being inflexible, standardization reduced the effort needed for the administrative and logistic aspects of mission planning.
It also allowed greater concentration on tactical objectives, such as proper target selection and choice of time and place for maximum effectiveness of the mission. Similarly, standardization resulted in a reduction of tension (“What exactly am I supposed to do now?”) and more clarity of thought in execution. Following successful missions, it was common to hear an element leader say in the debrief that he had seen an unexpected option open up and felt confident in exploiting it, knowing that he could rely on supporting elements to be at the preplanned position.
This system of tactics development never led to rigidity and stagnation: fleet operations and personnel turnover are too dynamic. The air wing inevitably discovered a new experience for which the approved tactic was less than satisfactory. Similarly, new officers arrived, bringing
fresh ideas or more up-to-date knowledge of new developments in intelligence or technology.
In most air wings, such perturbations would have had little impact. In this case, since every officer in the wing was either a tactics board member or rooming with one. new ideas were always heard. Also, since tactics boards were required to meet regularly, they studied new concepts more readily than might have been the case for groups convened randomly.
All right. This air wing spent a lot of time meeting and had standard, well-exercised tactics. But was it successful? Without the test of combat, it is impossible to say with assurance. Many alumni of this air wing have sustained widely recognized reputations as innovative but meticulous tacticians. Also, in meeting shipmates from that period, I am always impressed that, after they grimace at the memory of the “cruise of a 100 tactics meetings,” they admit that they never felt so ready for combat and so confident of success.
The Navy’s shortfall in tactics is caused simply by a lack of priority. This problem can be corrected with:
► Command attention—essentially setting the priority
► A structure for tactics development, suitable for the platform or force involved
► Implementation of common problemsolving techniques
► Standardized use of approved tactics, with emphasis on understanding, training, and crisp execution
Our attitude toward tactics should be guided by the idea that tactics development is not an art, but a careful science. In an active tactics program, sound concepts are generally evolutionary, not revolutionary (unless capabilities and or the threat change dramatically). The validity of existing tactics must be challenged constantly; those challenges must in turn be questioned so that changes will not be made simply to give the impression of improvement.
History tells us that effective tactics are a key factor in military success at most unit and bperating force levels. It falls to us naval professionals to stop talking about tactics and begin thinking clearly about how we intend to fight and win our battles at sea.
Commander Glaeser. a 1965 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, has served in four airborne early warning squadrons, including commanding officer of VAW-123. Currently, he is attached to the OpNav stall in the Navy Space Systems Directorate, involved with improving the tactical utility of space systems. His article, "Guerrilla Warfare at Sea.” was published in the August 1983 Proceedings.
Aircraft Maintenance and the Paper Chase
Navy
By Captain John C. Roach, U. S. Navy, and Lieutenant Commander Dennis H. Genovese, U. S.
of the
wide variance in the make-up of loca ) initiated aircraft check sheets.
►Coordination between the TyComs. particularly on aircraft configuration con trol, was notably absent. This corn pounded the problems for interfleet air craft transfers and complicated 1 workload associated with programme overhaul and repair at depot sites.
►Policy guidance, directives, reporting criteria, and administrative procedur differed between TyComs, all of whic were detrimental to the adoption an implementation of a cohesive naval avia
Since the early 1950s, naval aircraft inventory has declined to a level which must be considered as spartan. The advent of new aeronautical technology offered the “promises” of aircraft with greater maintainability, improved logistics support, positive and timely aircraft configuration control, and more economies in the use of personnel resources. Each succeeding generation of naval aircraft introduced into the fleet was “advertised” as providing a quantum jump in aircraft maintainability, improved mean flight hours between maintenance actions, technological breakthroughs in mission capability, and the implementation of logistics analysis prediction models that would ensure adequate support. Aircraft manufacturers, Naval Air Systems Command managers, and logistic experts in the Aviation Supply Office, individually and collectively, predicted that the new technology, computerized logistics prediction modeling, diagnostic testing, and close adherence to prescribed doctrine would both ensure and enhance readiness in fleet combat aircraft.
It is now the early 1980s and, though the aircraft inventory is approximately one third as large as it was 30 years ago,1 we struggle with reduced maintainability, decremented mean flight hours between maintenance actions, out of control aircraft configuration status, diminished supply support response, and significantly reduced operational readiness.2 Yet, we had been assured that more economical and effective use of personnel resources, the advent and application of new technology, and the exploitation of new generations of computer hardware would lead to improved management of aircraft maintenance material resources. In the face of this, the question emerges, Why, after 30 years of alleged improvements, do we have such abject failure? This question is especially apropos when we consider that about three times as many personnel support each aircraft in the active inventory today than were needed 30 years ago.3
In the early 1950s, prior to the implementation of the three-level approach to aircraft maintenance, and prior to the introduction of the maintenance material management (3M) automated data processing (ADP) program, the Commanders, Naval Air Atlantic and Pacific, were responsible for fleet aircraft maintenance. To effect their responsibilities, they devised and implemented individualized and tailored maintenance program concepts. The quality and depth of maintenance, as well as control over aircraft configuration, rested almost solely with each type commander (TyCom). The same was true for aircraft readiness and, to a lesser extent, the effectiveness of material support.
To assist managers of fleet aircraft maintenance, the TyComs developed a maintenance index record (MIR). The MIR was technically accurate, timely, reliable, and comprehensive, covering the essential elements comprising the scheduled maintenance planning process. It identified the status of aircraft changes, applicable maintenance instructions and notices, engine and avionics changes and bulletins, and other pertinent aircraft maintenance data. The MIR was provided annually to all user activities and caused a negligible administrative burden for fleet units. Military professionals at the E-7 grade level (prior to the establishment of the E-8 and E-9 grade structure) assigned to the staffs of the TyCom headquarters administered, maintained, and monitored the MIR program.
This same TyCom staff of dedicated professionals provided the naval aviation maintenance community a resident pool of expertise fully responsive to assistance requests by the fleet about maintenance and logistics problems. Advice and guidance were accurate and timely. Given little automation, support for the large and diverse on-board aircraft inventory depended upon innovative management techniques, cost-effective approaches to the use of resources, and commitment to dedicated leadership from lower echelons of aircraft maintenance and material management, all encouraged by the TyCom staff. Increased productivity, enhanced motivation, and effective control over each of the logistics elements were attained through personal involvement and dedication from those intimately familiar with the problems. In turn, both responsibility and commensurate authority to correct the deficiencies were delegated to the lowest maintenance level, with the expectation that responsible authority would be unhesitatingly exercised to resolve problems and correct planning deficiencies.
The system, with its inherent nearautonomous control of aircraft maintenance by the TyCom, worked well. However, by necessity, there were two separate and unique systems, each under
control of a TyCom who had exclusive aircraft assets to carry out a well-defme mission in a specific geographic area without overlap. On occasion, there w a need to reassign or transfer assets fronj one fleet to another to meet operation3 requirements. When this need was no longer an isolated or infrequent occur rence, problems surfaced that overtax^ the systems which were never designed cope with such instances. Among t problems that surfaced, the following were considered significant: ,
► The range, scope, and depth of sch® uled aircraft inspections varied wide ■ from one activity to another for the sa type, model, and series because tion maintenance program.
► Carrier air groups and squadrons hom ported under one TyCom, and deploye ^ under the administrative and operation control of another, were confronted wi an imbroglio of procedures and instruc tions in the areas of management, rea ness, and reporting. The two control sys terns often were contradictory; c°a formance to both was almost impossib ■ The introduction of the Aviation Ma,lj^ tenance Material Management System 1964 was to have provided the manage ment tools required for efficient and ec° nomical use of personnel and mater' resources in the performance of aircra maintenance.4 The achievement of niaX' mum operational readiness of naval avia tion systems and equipment provided t basis for the Naval Aviation Maintenanc Program relative to maintenance respo" sibilities and policies for all activity concerned with the maintenance of naV , aircraft.5 The collection, analysis, aIY use of pertinent data to assist all levels 0 management concerned with the Nav Aviation Maintenance Program, if Pr°P erly applied, would avert potential Pr0 lems. This was the designed intent oft aviation 3M program.
evolved ■t^at t’me’ the 3M system has tem 6 mt° 3 kbor-intensive ADP sys- cnlio rec^u’r‘n§ ter>s of thousands of data tenev" (0rS at tke 'owest levels of compe- then ° per^orm technical research, and Vo C°mpile and prepare the data for the Puter'°tu appet'te °1 the ubiquitous corn- view h • Computers’ products are re- lyst C, historical perspective by ana, 3na maintenance managers. As on emented, the 3M system imposes an aviat°US ‘^ministrative task on the naval svste'011 ma'ntcnancc community; 3M Unw,m Stat'st‘cs alone can overwhelm the
1 40oTw?n 3n avera8e’ approximately (Map \ maintenance action forms are Hi iand support action forms (SAFs) age ' Cd 'n £ac^ m°nth to support a man- th ent data system (MDS) which, for
and m°St- part’ suPPorts staff functions nienfr°VldeS echelons of manage- retinri 3 plethora of historical data reve ,S' Purther, 3M system statistics
those wh1’ °n 3 typical wooing day, aircr f 110 per^orrn maintenance on naval 1 ->(.a | are committed to filling in
and Sa bl°cks on the 66’000 MAFs
ma; . generated to document their
mamtenance actions.7
■grj 6 ones who perform maintenance Ve hhle, if any, direct benefit from assiduous devotion to data collec- et, the system was touted as an aid
to both the maintenance man and the manager. In actuality, it has burdened the maintenance man with “administrivia” and has inundated managers with huge quantities of raw 3M data which overwhelm analysts by their sheer volume.
Management tends to become preoccupied with management information systems and has developed a predisposition for ADP products. Extensive use of computers in the real world of aircraft maintenance management has not proven to be the panacea for most of the long-recognized, real-time problems faced every day by naval aviation maintenance managers and artificers. It is obvious that computers and their products are not the answer to the very real maintenance problems of motivation, involvement, personal concern, and dedication. Neither have they proven to be cost-effective when measured against the use of existing resources or the problems created by shortfalls in aircraft material readiness. Extensive use of ADP and its equipment brings -with it a structured, depersonalized approach to all problems associated with aircraft maintenance material readiness. This tends to inject a “corporate Navy” ideology into the operational forces in the prosecution of their assigned missions. During the past 20 years, the depersonalization process, abetted by the
ADP system, has had a destructive effect on aircraft maintenance material readiness in fleet units. During this period, there has existed an increasing challenge and pressing need for motivated artificers, involved petty officers, concerned division officers, and dedicated leaders at all levels of command. It is chimerical to believe that ADP and computer systems can be designed, structured, and implemented as a substitute for personal involvement. Computers neither accept responsibility nor exercise authority, and substituting their management systems for an active leadership role can guarantee only failure.
Advocates of current approaches to aircraft maintenance material management may believe that the tenor of this discussion threatens the use of ADP and MDS. In defense of their position, they likely will point out that the more sophisticated weapon systems, heavy dependence upon exotic materials, greater use of composite structures, and constantly changing technology, have posed special problems. No real exception is taken with their point of view; but rationalizing the problems away in this manner smacks of sheer sophistry and does not come to grips with the existing maintainability dilemma, or adequately account for the degradation in material readiness— which worsens rather than improves as the ADP burden increases. In the development of new weapon systems and weapon system technology, there has been a requirement to identify problems impacting on maintainability, reliability, and material readiness early in the development cycle. It was the intent that modem analysis techniques could resolve predicted problem areas prior to those systems being introduced into the fleet. Yet predicted problem areas continue to exist long after the systems’ introduction into the fleet. This is attested to by those technicians and maintenance professionals involved in all three levels of aircraft maintenance. The failure is not so much technological as it is the misapplication of technology. It has created untold costs to the fleet in lost confidence and in excessive man-hour expenditures in attempts to correct problems that should never have existed.
Further compounding the real problem
in maintenance management is the false sense of complacency foisted upon managers who are advised that today’s Navy recruits have more formal education, more inquisitive minds, and greater total awareness than their predecessors. In most cases, no amount of formal education can supplant the need for involvement, commitment, concern, and dedication. Even the mechanical skills and technical abilities of today’s youths do not seem to compare favorably with those possessed by the youths of even 20 years ago. Reducing “hands on” training at the Navy “A” schools through the use of self-paced textbook concepts compounds the problem.
Many ADP systems are proposed because of ready access to data, and the opportunity for quick response when there is little need for the data and no need for timely response. A management information system (MIS) by itself does not resolve problems, it merely identifies them. For the most part, problems which are identified have been long-standing and are already known to the maintenance manager. The continuing evolution of automated MIS has expanded the role of problem reviewers at the expense of problem resolvers, particularly since it is axiomatic that problems are much easier to review than to resolve. Re-identifying and reviewing problems rather than resolving them only delays the initiation of remedial action. MIS may identify our problems with brilliance and alacrity, but we have lost the facility and ability to resolve them once identified. For example:
► The automated MIS creates additional and different administrative and management problems.
► The automated system is used as an excuse for unresolved problems, i.e., it has become a common practice to blame the impersonal computer—“It’s in the computer, and we will just have to wait!”
► Action is delayed until scheduled automated reports are promulgated and distributed to verify the existence of a known problem.
► The integrity of the system is attacked or defended because of the alleged questionable quality of input data.
Comparing today with the 1950s, three times the number of personnel support one third the number of aircraft. But with more than a million maintenance and support forms being fdled out each month, it is a wonder that anyone has time to fix anything.
► Continuous expansion of the system has generated voluminous reports and data (much of which are unused), to a point where it has become contradictory and unmanageable.
► Often problems requiring ADP initiatives are delayed until ADP requirements are fulfilled, thereby deferring problem resolution until ADP hardware and software deficiencies are corrected.
The management information systems now in an automated mode have been developing and expanding for a number of years without the wherewithal to resolve the problem of the lack of available, prepositioned resources to meet operational requirements. Initiatives for new systems, proposed changes to current systems, and modified approaches to those in existence continue to evolve without a comprehensive review of pr°b" lems associated with systems in use. To reduce problems associated with the introduction of such initiatives, the following questions should be asked:
► Is the proposed system, change, °r modification essential?
► Who is making the proposal, and who will benefit from the proposed initiative-
► Will it have a negative impact on available resources?
► Does it positively or negatively motivate personnel?
► Are there other systems that will adequately satisfy the requirement?
► Is there a nonautomated system that
U. S. NAVY (C. CHRISTENSEN!
► i ajCommoclate the requirement?
or ■ \a substitute for personal initiative,
resPa ", t esigncd t0 support a one-time research effort?
tinnaf ac^.'evernent of optimum opera- sourrpreadlneSS relates directly to the re-
quiremente3!?16 ‘° mCet mission re'
of .up s; * 'le urgency and contiguity Pact recpurement have the greatest im- COn n C. 'nc*'v'dual, or individuals, rennir^ d‘rect*y with meeting mission Port r,emejtS' In Seneral, direct-site sup- to air r°r*deS tde most dramatic response t0 tht aU readiness, and can be attributed short SCnSe °* resident urgency and a gene rCfCt‘Ve logistics pipeline. The ur- ^ requirement tends to dimin- (jjr- l 11 moves upward and out from the genp’ 'i^a'n command—i-e., an “ur- UP th t ■ requirement on Friday sent urgent6 Cham evolves int0 a “routine” dav if re9u>rement the following Mon- i°cati ernoon at higher echelon remote resnp0n-i' Accordingly, authority and imJ n^ib.hty to resolve requirements he rn ln" °n °Perational readiness would thCv °re effective and better served if DeripWCre resolved by those directly ex- P^nencmg the greatest urgency.
asses' °ldd readily apparent that a re- PrUdeSrnent whcre we are headed is *he fu? ’ ddle course to be considered for °Per t'UrC *S t0 strengthen and support the f0rce [1]°|na' readiness of our deployable oDn otherwise further delays the
view Un'1^ t0 exPiore, analyze, and re- Pand' ^ro^*erns associated with our ex- crea ln® technology. It is becoming in- advaSm^ 'mPerative that we exploit the provntages °f computer hardware, im- modTents in analysis and prediction advy6 lcchn'ques, and the accelerated \yj)j,nces *n automated data processing, gain h KCrC are rnany advantages to be tinupH uaval aviation through the consol^ exP*orat’on of ADP hardware and Prim-ar,e’ comPUter products must serve \ye ari y t0 enhance aircraft readiness. Ve,o-Us‘ discourage or eliminate the de- (hat *3lTlent ar)d use of computer products uian-SerVe °n^ t0 titillate the curiosity of atte ;|8CrS and administrators and direct prob|lon it°m the resolution of those reudinmS direClly affecting operational
p . *
°”*ng a study group to review and Win ^ °n t*le Pr°hlems delineated here Iarly° f,y perPetuate the problem, particu- grou ' chartered similarly to past study £ TtfS ^°r example: length StUd^ wd* comprehensive and
ble “rice bowl” syndrome.
► Study group sponsor and team membership will change over time because of planned rotations, thus changing the emphasis and outcome of the programmed review.
► The study group will report out to the system.
► System reviewers will re-identify and review the “perceived” problem, with problems remaining much easier to review than resolve.
► Status quo again will be preserved. This pre-ordained approach is part of
the problem we are trying to resolve, and is why we have had little success to date. It is unfortunate and regrettable that the only study groups with strong measures of success are those formed and chartered to develop a review that supports established and foregone conclusions.
If lowered aircraft readiness, reduced flight hours between maintenance actions, decremented aircraft configuration control, degraded weapon systems reliability, declining maintainability, and increased personnel support requirements are accepted as harbingers of the future for naval aviation, then we are right on course. If that portrayal creates alarm, then there is an urgent need to stop—to assess where we are, and where we should be headed—and take deliberate, resolute action to alter our course.
'Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (Air Warfare) Aircraft Management Information. NavWeps 00- 80P-1, Branch Op-51. Washington, D.C.
2Flight Activity of Navy Aircraft, Annual Report. OpNav 50-104, Washington. D.C.
2NavAir Headquarters Military Manpower Plans and Programs. NavWeps 00-80P-1, Washington, D.C. 4OpNavlnst 4790.2B. Vol. 1, Ch. 1, p. 1-1-1.
5 Ibid. p. 2-1-16.
6Navy Maintenance Support Office Reports for CY- 81, NAMSO 4790.A7152-01, Mechanicsburg, PA.
7 Ibid.
Captain Roach joined the U. S. Navy in 1942 as an apprentice seaman. During World War II, he served in the USS Evarts (DE-5) and USS Thomas E. Fraser (DM-24), and took part in the Iwo Jima and Okinawa campaigns! Having served seven tours in aircraft maintenance and three tours in aircraft intermediate maintenance, he is now Director, Logistics Systems Development at the Naval Aviation Logistics Center in Patuxent River, Maryland. Captain Roach holds degrees in business administration and management science.
Commander Genovese joined the Navy in 1968 and was commissioned through the NESEP program in 1974; his bachelor's degree is in meteorology from the University of Oklahoma. He also holds a master's degree in management from the Naval Postgraduate School. Currently, he is workload control officer for the Logistics Systems Development Directorate within the Naval Aviation Logistics Center.
Goalkeeper: A Last-Ditch Defense
By H. J. Jansen
Goalkeeper’s GAU 8IA Gatling gun is the same model used by the U. S. Air Force’s A-10 Thunderbolt II aircraft. It fires 30-mm. armor-piercing shells at the rate of 4,200 rounds per minute.
gun-aiming point, open fire, carry
out kill
fol
No current defensive naval gun or missile system can deal effectively with the threats posed by combinations of sea-skimmer missiles, electronic countermeasures, and surprise attack. To counteract these threats, combinations of systems must be available to provide for successive layers of defense. Systems designed for last-ditch defense must be able to destroy the incoming warhead which penetrates other layers of defenses.
This warhead kill is mandatory because a missile, even when severely damaged by other defense systems, may continue toward a target from sheer momentum and still explode. For last-ditch defense, timely detection, accurate tracking, precise aiming, high rate of fire, and extremely fast response are mandatory. In addition, system reliability is extremely important, especially in a multitarget environment.
After extensive studies and feasibility demonstrations, Goalkeeper, a last-ditch defense weapon system, has been developed under Royal Netherlands Navy contract by Hollandse Signaalapparaten B.V. (Signaal) in the Netherlands and General Electric in the United States. Technical evaluation began this past fall, and operational evaluation will be completed sometime next year. This joint development by industrial companies from two NATO countries is an encouraging example of a project aimed at finding cost-effective solutions for urgent requirements of the Alliance.
Goalkeeper is designed as a standalone system, which enables “hands- off’ operation under all operational circumstances envisaged today. It is compact in construction and layout. Although the system is autonomous and fully automatic, the system can be operated remotely from the ship’s combat information center.
Any air defense system should search the sky continuously, assure timely detection, identification, and classification of any potential threat, select the target
which is most appropriate for engage ment, designate it to the tracking system and the weapon, predict an accurate
assessment, and be ready for immediate engagement of the next target. These le tures are incorporated in Goalkeeper an ^ are automated to such a degree that t truly can be called a “fire and forget system.
For the search function, Goalkeepe has an I-band, high-powered, pulse-t° pulse coherent search radar. I-band lS used to achieve the optimum balance among target reflection, low-lobing ® feet, and atmospheric penetration. T"1 will ensure detection of small targets, >n all-weather and in hostile electronic war fare environments.
A synthesizer-driven traveling wave tube transmitter is used. This provides high power for burn-through and permits great flexibility' in frequency and Pulsl- repetition to counteract jamming. An an tenna rate of 60 revolutions per minute ensures a high data rate, both for detec tion and accurate tracking of pop-up an violently maneuvering targets. The an tenna has a vertical beam width of $ and is biaxially stabilized to ensure g°° performance and a continuous track np date independent of the ship’s movement- Detection probability is further enhance by the application of such processing techniques as digital pulse compressi°n and fast Fourier transformation.
Digital moving target detection has been incorporated into Goalkeeper f°r unambiguous range indication in clutter conditions. Similarly, pulse repetitn111 frequency stagger and frequency diver sity are valuable anticlutter, blind spee avoidance, and electronic counter-coun termeasure features. Dual receiver chan nels enhance fast video processing, P,c extraction, track buildup, threat evalus lowed immediately by automatic desig nation of the tracking antenna al1 weapon onto the priority target. This has been possible with the use of advance software techniques. Continuous searc enables fast engagement of subsequen targets in a multitarget scenario.
Target designation is followed by acquisition on the dual-frequency I- an K-band tracking radar, a technique Pat" ented by Signaal with the principle proven in more than 150 systems already- The K-band pencil beam provides accurate image-free and continuous track data
Cnnr VCr^ *ow a^'tude of sea-skimmers, made Tu’ automatic comparison is and K°h signa,/no'se ratios of the I- runti^ i and- returns to ensure uninter- me tracking in a degraded environ- count nl‘c^utter and electronic counter- acciirftrmCaSUres lealures also safeguard has th 6 tracGn§- In addition, the system tareeK Capat>i,ity to engage high-altitude dern ' Low'*evel performance has been suncrnS,ratedin tracking trials on small, tin„ Sfaic m'ss'les with an altitude sets ot five meters.
!rad(lSCC' °n tde stahle three-dimensional used process’ digital processing is Auto ° ?red’ct lhe hit point accurately. Point*1131'0 caphralK)n and closed-loop hit for correction are used to compensate
data T errors ar|d inaccurate ballistic fuick Ut°matic assessment ensures duri en8a8enicnt of successive targets rated^f3 InU*dtar®et attach- The incorpo- and *r'n® ^octr*ne enables automatic tarpo?^tlma* en§a8ernent cycles against fcCts of the next priority.
rate ^ GoaIkeeper GAU 8/A gun has a and ° i ^'re T.200 rounds per minute aDn,a e,11°nstrated low dispersion for its
and fCatl°n’ More than 650 GAU 8/A Sun the I w Systems have been produced for ^ A>r Force A-10 aircraft. With Cume,than seven million rounds fired, a 30 (;)ffve reliability of more than bee mcan rounds between failures has We"1 demonstrated. This unbeatable p() ap°n reliability will be of prime im- ance when responding to multitarget situations. Goalkeeper’s ammunition feed and storage drum holds sufficient rounds for several targets to be successfully engaged before reloading. Spent cases and unfired rounds are returned to the drum, thus avoiding above-deck debris. The below-decks location of the feed and storage drum provides a protected environment for reloading. Reloading can be accomplished either with the manual loading tray or, more rapidly, with the mechanical bulk-loading system.
The development of the kinetic energy ammunition was contracted to NWM De Kruithoorn in the Netherlands. This company is carrying out the provisions of the contract in close collaboration with Ar- matechnica Corporation in Santa Barbara, California, which has a proven design capability for requirements of very specific rounds. The ammunition will be of the armor-piercing, discarding sabot type in a 30-mm. cartridge to maximize impact. This type of round has an extremely high lethality.
Extensive simulations of Goalkeeper’s performance have been carried out by Netherlands defense laboratories, based on detailed modeling of the system. In these simulations, the effectiveness of Goalkeeper is expressed as a single figure—the kill range—which is the range at which a target has been "killed” with 95% confidence.
All targets considered have been assumed to be fitted with armor-protected warheads. Based on the results of these simulations, supersonic targets with armored warheads are expected to be destroyed at a range of 500 meters. A second similar target, arriving immediately after the first, would be destroyed at about 400 meters. These values have been achieved for numerous target profiles, scenarios and boundary conditions. Among other things, the following characteristics and environmental conditions were taken into account:
► A crossing range equivalent to the length of the ship
► Missile navigation properties
► Missile flight profile perturbations
► Missile heading errors
► Ship’s glint effects and deliberate maneuvers of the missile
► Ship’s movements at sea
► Sea clutter
► Precipitation clutter
► Landmass clutter
► Electronic warfare
Goalkeeper is designed to tackle the missiles that have penetrated other defenses or have been detected at ranges where other systems fail to react properly. It is a systems approach: in-depth analysis and an unbeatable weapon reliability to guarantee the survivability of a ship against modem multimissile attack.
Mr. Jansen is the coordinator for research and development at the Naval Weapon and Communications Command, Royal Netherlands Navy.
Submarines with a Difference
By Will'am H. Kumm
s- c^ore the advent of nuclear propul- celj1 *°f Navy submarines, fuel
cal S Were considered to be the next logi- stib StC'1 *orwar<J from battery-powered Bu,niar'nes which required recharging. I ^'lh the launching of the USS Nauti- 0f'f SN-571) in 1954, the development Uel-cell propulsion was sidelined by e aaval community.
w,i,Cady years later, we are presented . a situation where fuel-cell propul- n on board submarines is actually ,0re cost-effective than the use of nu- ear Propulsion.
q /1 the broad expanse of the Arctic ha<,Can’ USe submarine tanker
ds *°ng been considered commercially PPropriate because of the presence of the su f1 'CC Cap’ wh>ch profoundly inhibits fi r ace ship transport. The technical dif- j a ly and high operating cost of Arctic j leaking tankers are strong arguments n favor of the cheaper, more efficient submarine tanker. Transiting under the polar ice cap, the submarine tanker is not an “Arctic” system, but merely a submerged system. It is a system usable in any ocean around the globe where sufficient depth exists (about 65% of the global surface).
Ice breakers are another story—their design only makes them useful for transit through heavy sea ice in coastal environments. Used anywhere else, such as in the open ocean or at the Arctic ice cap, they are not a cost-effective means of transport. In arguing the submarine tanker’s case, then, we note that Arctic sea ice conditions require the Arctic-peculiar icebreaking tanker system to do the job the hard way—on the surface. But on the other hand, Arctic sea ice conditions are neatly set aside by the submarine tanker, which does it the energy-efficient, elegant way—submerged (see Figure 1). The submarine tanker is less expensive to build, far less expensive to operate, and does not need to be nuclear propelled.
The Commercial Nuclear Ship Problem: In the 1960s, many governmental spokesmen and writers in the technical and popular press saw the promise in nuclear propulsion plants. Once perfected on board naval ships, it would become a dominant form of commercial propulsion because'of the relatively small amount of space needed for its operation, in addition to the tremendous longevity of nuclear fuel. Unfortunately, the technical and port entry difficulties encountered with the NS Savannah (the U. S. nuclear-pro- pelled demonstration merchantman), plus her high crew costs in the 1950s, caused her to be laid up.1
Starting in 1960, a series of articles and technical papers addressed the prospects for the medium-sized commercial submarine tanker. In 1969, at the time of the Prudhoe Bay oil discovery, the Gen-
P
eral Dynamics Corporation made a major effort to convince the oil industry of the commercial practicality of large, nu- clear-propelled submarine tankers for Arctic crude oil transport.2 The Prudhoe Bay oil producers, however, had already bought 780 miles of 48-inch diameter Japanese pipe for a nominal $800 million (by 1973, the trans-Alaska pipeline cost $9 billion).
During 1972-73, the research and development office of the U. S. Maritime Administration (MarAd) became interested in the commercial potential of the large Arctic submarine tanker.3 In 197475, MarAd sponsored a comprehensive study of the concept by a team of companies led by Newport News Shipbuilding.4 All these studies,3 and the various trade journal papers,6 referred to the nuclear propulsion plant as a necessary element of the system to permit the long transits under the polar ice cap. The only exception to this thinking was a 1969 proprietary study by Hamilton Brothers Oil Company of a smaller non-nuclear submarine tanker concept propelled by the German Walther cycle engine. A submarine so equipped would have transited the Arctic coastal route with periodic submergence under the ice and periodic access through openings in the ice to replenish her air supply.7 The assumpti01’ that a nuclear power plant was essentia1 for a large polar transiting submarine tanker cut off further discussion in the 1970s because of the previously men' tioned reactions against commercial nU' clear ship propulsion. But today, a solU' tion to this classic riddle has been found’ the fuel cell-propelled submarine tanker-
The Non-nuclear Propulsion Solution Fuel cells are solid-state devices sim>' lar to lead acid batteries, but with a fun' damental difference. A dry-charged lead acid battery produces no direct current power output until the reactant is added-
Marine tanker is of very large ^epM'y, !he is
more like a
design.
surface
A e reactant in this case is sulphuric acid, bv ,h etktnC power is provided to the load trv , u ‘Mery’ *ts lnternal electrochemis- Th!s c*lange can only be re- terv M y electrically recharging the bat- i., additional reactant will help.
thpr u Uel Cel1, on the other hand, nei- uuim .meS discharged, nor does it re- are T tf ^Ctrical recharging. Its reactants on ih . - °8en~r‘c'h gas or pure hydrogen such E anode side’ and an oxygen-rich gas side re airor.Pure oxygen on the cathode able ,Kan ln*4nite source of each is avail- rent mr Ce^ w'd produce direct cur- aii f ciectricity and fresh water liter-
ener 6Ver; ‘l is also a very efficient gy converter, as shown in Figure 2.8 such ,en used 'n a land-based application, prov aS by an eieetric utility, the fuel cell main't es a quiet, energy-efficient, low- Plant S’n!1Ce’ long‘endurance power the n 1CSC eharacteristics account for funri' epartmeni °f Energy’s significant dem"18 °^a ^ue* ceb development and com°nStrat*0n Pr°gram. The maritime effort UK*ty Can now eapitalize on these ts by adapting the fuel cell for sub- manne propulsion.
Um e Percentage of the submarine vol- Plan,required ^or lhe fuel cell propulsion 0xjj ’ lts ’nethanol fuel, and its on-board Sul IZer supply is relatively small. The stan ^ ln PurPose’ size, speed, and con- UlT| cy °f r°ute than she is kin to the vol- sile° lm'tec* naval attack or ballistic mis- „en ^marines. Figure 3 shows the rinpCra* arrangement of the Arctic subma- ton tan^er-9 For a 165,000 deadweight ArcfSU*3niar'ne tanher operating in the ]0c lc’ d'e displaced volume fraction ala ea ,0 cargo is more than 80% of the °f thUced volume of the ship.10 Fractions f0r e volume which have to be reserved uid SC bProPu's'on methanol fuel and liq- Pla °Xy^en needed for the fuel cell power resn\are only 1.7% and 4.5%, jur^dvdy.11 Interior space within presand aUb-S bor ruachinery, living spaces, outfit is only 3.8% of the displace- at volume of the submarine tanker.12 of l cond*tion defines a different kind Um 'S rrnarmc from the traditional vol- ^'hmited naval submarine.
0 restate the proposition of the sub- ^•ne tanker:
of fi 6 ls a 'arge, neutrally buoyant carrier (L u,ds at a temperature close to that of ^ Sh>UtS'de seawater. the fl6 *S 3 systern which carries most of clo. U’ds, whose densities are generally ; Se t° that of seawater, in “soft tanks,” ro ’ aapressurized, with the balance of ghly 30% carried in pressure hulls to °v,de needed cargo variable ballast.
► The cargo economic value penalty allocated to the self-propulsion fuel requirement, plus the oxidizer function associated with the fuel cell power plant, is small. This is true because the route via the Arctic Ocean to a transshipment facility clear of the ice cap is a relatively short (5,000 nautical miles) round trip.13
► In this service, the supposed economic advantage of the long-endurance nuclear power plant is an illusion.14 The higher capital costs of nuclear propulsion, plus its commercial maritime approval-risk and institutional unacceptability, effectively rule it out for further consideration for the Arctic bulk cargo carrier case.
► The fuel cell thus becomes the clear choice for the Arctic submarine tanker because of its high energy conversion efficiency, simplicity, fuel compatibility with cargoes such as Arctic, natural gas- fed methanol, and the lack of fundamental institutional barriers to its acceptance.
Implications of the Big Submarine
But what does all of this mean to the natives of the Arctic, to the commercial maritime field, and to the Navy?
First of all, the views of the Inuit (Eskimos), the people of the Arctic region, are important. The U.S. Inuit, who live along the North Slope of Alaska, have a governmental unit called the North Slope Borough. This borough is close to twice the size of Pennsylvania.15 These people are opposed to the prospect of coastal traffic using icebreaking tankers along the northwest and north coast of Alaska.16 Their primary reason is their dependence for thousands of years on the coastal migrating marine mammals, particularly the bowhead whale. Because the Bering Strait is too shallow for the year- round submerged passage of submarine tankers under this sea ice, submerged systems will not move westward from Arctic petroleum cargo sources such as Prudhoe Bay, or from the Canadian Beaufort Sea sources. While icebreaking tankers could technically go eastward through the Northwest Passage to the Baffin Sea and along the east coast of Greenland to ice-free waters, the Canadian Inuit have taken a firm policy position opposed to the icebreaking tanker operating in their coastal waters. Still further east, the Greenlandic Inuit have also taken a policy position opposed to the prospect of icebreaking tankers moving down their west coast through the Baffin Sea.17 That the icebreaking system is, by its nature, a coastal transiting system represents its most fundamental difficulty.
The submarine tanker is, however, quite acceptable to the Inuit because it does not move along the coast, but rather under the ice cap where there are no marine mammals. Furthermore, a submarine tanker carrying methanol cannot create an at-sea “spill” because methanol is miscible in water. Finally, the fuel cell power plant, by providing the non-nuclear solution to self-propulsion of the submarine, also makes the submarine tanker concept more acceptable to the Inuit; in the simplest of terms, she is like a whale and whales do not break ice.
Second, the U. S. commercial maritime industry has recently fallen on hard economic times. As far as the ordinary tanker business is concerned, the orders for new U. S.-built tankers are likely to
\\\i i\\\\\\\\n\\\v\\\\\)v\;
Fuel Cell & Aux Machy Living Spaces
ARCTIC ENTERPRISES. INC.
be few and far between for some time to come. The current worldwide over-capacity in deadweight tonnage for conventional tankers exceeds many millions of tons. The Arctic is the one ocean region where there is no existing tonnage of suitable tankers already in place or readily made available. Once the notion can be set aside that icebreaking tankers are somehow “just like ordinary tankers except stronger,” then the economically superior Arctic submarine tankers can receive the attention they deserve. They would represent a new shipbuilding program and a dramatic technological advance by the U. S. maritime community.
On a strategic level, the Arctic submarine tanker fleet, transiting international waters of the Arctic Ocean, represents the type of system the U. S. needs to ensure its national supply of petroleum. About 18% of the U. S. oil supply crosses Alaska in a single pipeline with no backup. The national policy of maintaining strategic petroleum reserves (consisting of holes in the ground in Louisiana filled with stored oil) is not currently matched by a policy for petroleum transportation backup to the single 780-mile-long Alaska pipeline.18 A submarine tanker fleet, carrying methanol made from Prudhoe Bay gas, can be modified for use as a crude oil transport system in short order in time of national emergency.19 This argument for the submarine tanker system is in no sense its only justification; its clear economic superiority has already been established. Its superior institutional acceptability has also been demonstrated. The strategic transportation system need is real and.
with a growing U. S. dependence on Arctic petroleum resources, the need grows.
Third, as far as the U. S. Navy is concerned, its current mission to protect sea-lanes in time of war would also include the protection of Arctic, under-ice sea-lanes for the commercial submarine tankers; naval attack submarines could certainly provide that function in the Arctic Ocean. Because the submarine tanker route would not be through the Canadian Northwest Passage, the right of free passage is not at issue.
Once the fuel cell-propelled commercial Arctic submarine tanker is demonstrated, the Navy can then turn to this technology to supplement two of its supply missions: first, at-sea refueling of naval combatant surface ships, and second, transiting for long distances with petroleum, oil, and lubrication to supply land forces. Because of the present Soviet spaceborne radar surveillance capability, all surface tankers are pinpointed and vulnerable. The best way to hide from this surveillance radar is to get below the waves. Thus, the quiet, electric-drive submarine tanker will be able to enhance the survivability of the armed services’ own overseas supply line. At-sea refueling of surface combatants from submarine tankers, submerged well below the wave action, will become safer and more routine than the currently difficult ship- to-ship fuel transfers in heavy weather. Instead of two bodies in motion trying to maintain station while under way, only the fuel-receiving ship would be affected by the surface conditions.
Now that the energy-efficient phosphoric acid fuel cell is available in mega
watt sizes as a result of electric utility developments, the prospects for the nonnuclear submarine tanker have becontf much better. The U. S. needs the capability to perform large-volume movements of energy cargoes and fuel completely within the sea for commercial, strategic- and tactical reasons. Once the large, ft^ cell-propelled submarine is operational- smaller submarines for antisubmarine warfare and other duties can then be considered, based on the marine-rated fue cell power plant. All in all, the Arctic commercial submarine tanker is a most appropriate program within which to start the process.
Mr. Kumm has a degree in physics from Amherst College. In 1971-1973, he served with the Commerce Department as a Presidential Interchange Executive while on a leave of absence from industry. He worked for the Westinghouse Electric Corporation for 24 years before and subsequent to his two years in government. Mr. Kumm has written previously for the Proceedings on ocean-related issues. Since 1976, he has headed Arctic Enterprises Inc., which specializes in energy, ocean, and Arctic technology issues.
20 of the a nU*1 ^ront Aga*nst Supertankers,” Page ter, juiv 1(£‘lc Coastal Zone Management Newslet-
l7''Grivni , N°rttl Slope Borough. Alaska. ect •• r , United Against the Arctic Pilot Proj- the’ GrJ , and Newsle«er, No. 1-82, Published by
Tusarlii,,T k, Home Rule Information Service, ■8..,. Nuuk, Greenland.
Joint heann^h!^3’ 7“ Transportation Systems,” Synth,.,; c8 FeR)re the Subcommittee on Fossil and tlC Fuels of the Committee on Energy and
Commerce, and the Subcommittee on Energy and the Environment of the Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs, U. S. House of Representatives, 9 November 1981. Hearing Record, Committee Print, Serial No. 97-115, pp. 601-634.
,9‘‘Method of Transporting Crude Oil At Low Temperatures by Dispersion in Methanol,” Sullivan S. Marsden, Professor of Petroleum Engineering, Stanford University, U. S. Patent No. 3,926,203, 16 December 1975.
Ij^Retaking of M/T Ypapanti______________________________________
By Commander Armand L. Chapeau, U. S. Coast Guard
pot 1^82 was a nice day on the
^'VCr’ steaniing along at seven Cut/ crew lBc U- S. Coast Guard t cr Alen (WMEC-630), a 210-foot Piet ''I'11 en^urance cutter, had just com- ^ e a five-day visit to Washington, man 7. as,host for the Coast Guard Com- mo ant s change-of-command cere- ^ ^11 hands were looking foward to hom WCC^S reSt anc* recreat'°n in their prj E P°rt °f Cape May, New Jersey, ■or to their next patrol. But somewhere VirWeen tBe 1-95 bridge and Quantico, q t,lnia’ a mutiny occurred on board a phCe '°Wned’ Liberian-flag tanker. Our (j()°nc Patch with Commander, Third ast Cuard District (New York), said to proceed at best speed, board, and return control to the master.
On 12 May 1982, the motor tanker (M/T) Ypapanti, an 890-foot very large crude carrier loaded with light crude oil, notified the Coast Guard captain of the port at Philadelphia that she was due to arrive in port on the 13th. Based on the lack of required safety and pollution prevention equipment, entry into U. S. waters was denied. The vessel then anchored in international waters, 17 nautical miles off Indian River. Delaware, while the owners negotiated with Philadelphia’s captain of the port for entry. On 23 May, the crew, in a dispute over wages and allegedly poor condition of the vessel, mutinied. The alleged leaders of the mutineers were a Pakistani boatswain and a Greek chief officer. The Coast Guard did not intervene at that time because no danger to navigation existed, and the crew was not violent. The Liberian Government was contacted and asked to negotiate with the crew.
Sitting on the deck of a tanker, using an undercover FBI agent as an interpreter (“sailor” in ball cap), and negotiating with mutineers demonstrate just how far Coast Guard personnel sometimes must go to fulfill their service’s missions.
Over the next several days, negotiations went on ashore among lawyers for the owners, the Liberian Government, lawyers for the mutineers, and others; the results were generally negative. On 25 May, the Coast Guard was advised that crew members had rioted, taken hostages, and were threatening to set fire to the vessel—the Coast Guard immediately ordered the cutters Active (WMEC-618), Point Franklin (WPB-82350), and Hornbeam (WLB-394) to the scene.
The next day, after the situation had stabilized, the Point Franklin and Active resumed normal operations, and the Hornbeam remained anchored three miles from the vessel. The Ypapanti’s chief steward managed to get off the ship on the 27th. He revealed that the crew members had not been paid in nine months and only a three-day supply of food was left on board. The dissident crew members planned to fill the engine room with crude oil if their demands were not met, which included a dispute over the wage scale to be paid. At 0915 local time, on the 29th, the Alert arrived on the scene and relieved the Hornbeam.
The Alert’s orders were to anchor nearby, observe, and report significant activities to Third District headquarters. Her previous orders to board and return control to the master were cancelled. While negotiations continued, all hands on the Alert began intensive training and planning for assaulting the vessel. The Alert's officers and enlisted personnel were divided into three groups: boarding party, rescue and assistance team, and own-ship operations team. Training in the nonlethal use of force, assault tactics, and damage control procedures was conducted daily. An operations order was drafted that attempted to envision all conditions under which the Coast Guard would be required to board the vessel: fire, oil spill, injury to hostages, or negotiated settlement. Options included augmenting Coast Guard personnel with special weapons and tactical personnel from the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). A list of special equipment needs was drawn up and sent to Third District headquarters.
On 7 June, the Hornbeam relieved the Alert, which departed the scene for a 60- hour port call to replenish her supplies. While the Alert was moored at Cape May, lawyers for the owners and the crew went on board the Ypapanti in an attempt to negotiate a settlement. Before the attorneys’ departure from the tanker, the dissident crew agreed to allow the second mate, his wife, and the chief engineer to depart. As the launch left the side of the tanker, the chief officer jumped over the side and was picked up. In retribution, the mutineers assaulted the third mate.
Returning to the area on 10 June, the Alert resumed her surveillance duties. Her orders were, because of legal constraints, as before: observe and report. Later in the day, the attorney for the dissident crew members advised the Coast Guard that he was no longer going to represent the mutineers.
The Alert’s operations varied daily. Some days we stayed at anchor and others we steamed. We rendezvoused with other Coast Guard vessels to transfer personnel, conducted helicopter operations for training and logistic purposes, and we trained for the boarding of the Ypapanti. We also did a lot of fishing; finding a good fishing anchorage within the guidelines set by Third District for position relative to the Ypapanti became a matter of intense discussion.
During this period, the Liberian Government communicated an official request to the U. S. Government to intervene. On 14 June, representatives from the New York FBI office boarded the Alert and conferred about plans for retaking the merchantman. Final plans for regaining control of the Ypapanti were drawn up and team assignments made. The formation of six integrated ten-man teams, with responsibilities for various parts of the vessel, was decided upon. The Coast Guard and FBI each provided 30 trained personnel.
On 18 June, the plan for resolution of problems on board the Ypapanti was approved by the National Security Council. The plan called for a final effort by the Coast Guard to have the dissident crewmen accept past due wages, a free trip home, and nonprosecution by the United States. If the offer was refused, then the Coast Guard, acting on behalf of the Liberian Government, was to retake the vessel—by force if necessary.
Later the same day, as the Alert’s commanding officer, I was authorized to begin negotiations with the mutineers. Although begun with an offer of fresh bluefish as a gesture of good faith, the actual negotiating process was made difficult by the presence of a language barrier. I spoke no foreign languages, and the spokesman for the mutineers only spoke badly broken English.
On the morning of 22 June, the Alert again departed the scene for Cape May. Upon her arrival, 35 FBI personnel, $250,000 in cash, two tons of food, representatives from the owners of the vessel, and others were embarked. The Alert returned to the Ypapanti and moored alongside at 1630 local time. With boarding teams at the ready but concealed, helicopters at Cape May ready to respond, the cutters Cape Starr (WPB-95320) an Point Franklin loitering over the horizon, and condition “Zebra” set, the fina phase began. Captain Don Beilis an Commander Phillip M. Lebet, accompa nied by me, went on board to begin fina negotiations. At 1743, it became obvious that negotiations were at a standstill wit no hope for further progress. At appro*1' mately 1746, the general alarm on the Alert rang and the retaking of the Ypapanti began. Within six minutes, 4 was over; all mutineers were in custody and the hostages set free; no casualties were incurred on either side.
After a complete search of the vessel, the owners’ representatives positively identified the master of the vessel, who in turn identified each of the loyal crew members and officers. These persons were then released, and control of the vessel was returned to the master. Tin- mutineers and their belongings wen- transferred to the Alert. Other Coas Guard units involved in the operation were ordered to stand down.
On 23 June at 1247 local time, the Alert returned to home port and transferred the mutineers to the U. S. Immigration and Naturalization Service repatriation. The previously planne “one-day transit” from Washington- D.C., to Cape May was finally finished-
The Coast Guard and the FBI had demonstrated that they were able to act together outside of the territorial waters o the United States, complementing their unique enforcement responsibilities an capabilities. Specifically, Title 14 of the U. S. Code provides for assistance to the Department of State by the Coast Guard- and further provides the Coast Guar with the authority to request assistance from other agencies. A memorandum 0 understanding between the Coast Guar ^ and the FBI regarding matters of this type has been in effect for a number of years- In this case, the FBI had the tactical experience and expertise in hostage rescue- and the Coast Guard experience and expertise in dealing with ships. The combined talents and authority of the two agencies accomplished significant maritime hostage rescue without loss of life of injury.
Commander Chapeau is a graduate of the crim'na investigators course at the Federal Law Enforcem^11 Training Center in Glynco, Georgia, the hostage ne gotiators course given by San Jose State University 111 San Francisco, and has earned an Associate of degree in administration of justice. He is current y the director of the Gulf Region, National Narcotic Border Interdiction System.
Shipyard Overhauls
y Captain P. T. Deutermann,
U. S. Navy
, ost *'ne officers are only too familiar in! k trava'* caused by taking a ship ^ 0 'he yard for an overhaul; many of crrj must wonder if the experience is worthwhile.
cre^m°St irnmediately, each ship and her n s'nh into a “down” period when co Wor*cs and where sailors become ^mparatively underpaid yard workers.
if th* c'vd'an yard workers treat ships as the WerC *'tter ^oxes’ contributing to hav mCSS UnC* ensur*n8 that sailors will c| Ve to do their own work as well as a(eaa UP after the yard crews. In getting fQ e systems and equipment authorized rJ - ard repair, the shipyard crews often a/'1?.'!6 operable systems because they interference.” These systems then e ? lnto "no man’s land” at the other V ,°* the overhaul as the ship’s and the out S, Personnel argue about who took js what, and—more importantly—who selling t0 restore it. The ships them- shVeS’ Particularly if they are older pj'Ps. tend to settle: bearings deform, wh'^h r°tS’ w‘r'n§ soaks up humidity c c ,^eads to widespread grounds, air nditioning fan coils fill up with con- nsation and burst in winter, etc. to t ^3rC* Per'°d is a substantial setback Th rU'n'ng ar>d qnahfieation programs. inf6 SUr^acc warfare officer program goes Sa ? lmh° lor the most part; experienced Pr ?fS reenhst under various incentive j^ograms to escape the shipyard; and be°St training takes place in the classroom cause the ship’s equipment is either exnc or torn up. All in all, the shipyard
ex I*6*106 ^0r a S*1'P S company is not actly the “adventure” promised by Pruning posters.
^ ere is, however, a way in which the loa^ can wean itself from the habit of s'ng ships to shipyards for a year or ► (pC ,'n *'ve'year cycles: w lrst> depot (yard)-level maintenance has.U d f36 attacked on a ship system Ij y be., instead of regularly over- u ing the entire ship every three to five **’ systems would be overhauled When necessary.
0vS-ond, shipyards would turn from in,, au*'n8 ships in the yard to overhaul- rn®.’ and stocking for turnaround, the ^ajor components of ships’ systems. as j301 rnaintenance activities functioning . turnaround centers is not a new idea. £r^St cornbatants send their major launch- bat t0rPed° tubes, and directors to com- tu S^stems depots now; the systems rented often are not the ones shipped off.
But the idea would be novel for main engineering systems.
The critical path in most year-long overhauls runs through the main engineering plant overhaul. Boilers are retubed, major valves are reworked, and large and medium components go out through holes cut in the hull and are delivered to shops or out-of-town maintenance activities for overhaul. The ship spends a year in the yard because we choose to do all of these systems at once. But suppose we set up an overhaul cycle for systems instead of ships. Let us take the main feed system in a 1,200- pounds-per-square-inch steamship as an example.
Instead of having the entire plant torn down to parade rest, suppose we tied up the ship in home port and overhauled the feed system in the fireroom(s). Cut the access holes and pull the feed pumps, booster pumps, control valves, and any bad piping, and then rig in the new or reworked components which had been shipped from the yard in preparation for the pierside availability. Land the new components, bolt and weld, perform quality assurance, close the access, and go operational after a 30- to 45-day availability. Other systems could be overhauled too, as long as they could be done within the time frame set up by schedulers for the availability.
The current practice in the shipyard involves doing the same thing, but there is a long dead time while the components are worked on in the shops. That dead time accounts for a substantial part of the length of today’s shipyard overhaul. By eliminating such delays, we could get the same thing done in home port.
By establishing overhaul cycles for systems instead of ships, tee can avoid sentencing our fleet assets to one-year terms in shipyards, where the maxim “hurry up and wait” takes its toll on operations and crew morale.
Crucial to this concept, of course, is the availability of turnaround components. There would have to be a sufficient inventory in the Navy of main feed pumps, for instance, to allow for components to be in shipment both ways and under repair in the yard shops. For new ship classes, spares of this sort would be
The Boggs Bill: Bootstrapping Our Merchant Marine
By Lieutenant Commander John J. Baucom, U. S. Naval Reserve
made part of the initial procurement, much like the gas turbines for the FFG-7 and DD-963 classes. For older classes, it would probably be necessary to either look for components in the reserve fleet, or to retire one or two units of the class to act as “hangar queens” for their sisters. While fleet commanders might balk at the idea of early retirement of currently scarce fleet assets, it is likely that the actual availability of fleet units for operational employment would rise, because not as many ships would be locked in shipyards for a year at a time. Nor would it be too difficult to pick some likely candidates for early retirement: every home port has one or two ships wearing the sobriquet of “building number so-and- so” amongst the waterfront denizens.
This concept also offers advantages for the shipyards. The Navy yards now have to cope with the problem of loading among the trades in their work force. The yard might have three ships on the waterfront in the spring and nine ships by the fall, then back down to four ships by the winter. This up-and-down nature of yard loading wreaks havoc with the yard’s management effort to build and retain skilled production teams. But if the basis for production loading became a steady stream of component rework, it would be much simpler to program the size of the work force, because the periodicity of component rework would be stabilized.
Under this concept, boiler overhauls would be the toughest projects, because boiler components are not normally inter
In 1936, Congress enacted the Merchant Marine Act in an attempt to assist our maritime industry and stimulate shipbuilding. This act, among other things, established the shipping policy of the United States to maintain a merchant fleet able to carry all of our waterborne domestic commerce and a substantial portion of our foreign waterborne commerce. In the area of defense, the act prescribed that the Merchant Marine was to be comprised of ships ‘ ‘capable of serving as a naval and military auxiliary in time of war or national emergency.” The Merchant Marine Act had entailed a shipbuilding program with construction and operating subsidies. These subsidies were designed to equal the fair and reasonable difference between the cost of building ships in the United States and the lower cost of building them in foreign countries. The intent was to make it possible for U. S. operators to acquire ships changeable among boilers. However, neither does it take a year to retube and rebrick a boiler, nor is it necessary in the vast majority of ships to rebuild all four boilers at once. As late as the 1970s, destroyer tenders and boiler repairmen were rebuilding boilers alongside the tender; the critical elements were material and expertise. Ironically, a boiler is one steam component that must be done in situ. We do them in the yards now because we choose to lock ships up in yards for a year. So why not take all four boilers apart and overhaul them? Here again, the shipyard shops would become production lines, manufacturing boiler tubes, burner cones, and steam drum components for specific orders and stockpiles—the pipe shops could care less where the tubes were going.
The success or failure of this concept would rest on how often the ship had to tie up for a system turnaround availability. Surely after 20 years of the maintenance and material management system we should know (on the average) how often the components of an engineering or combat system need to be completely reworked. Suppose that two 45-day ship’s restricted availability periods were set up, one just before and one just after a deployment. That would add up to three months per year, and 15 months over the five-year overhaul cycle which the Navy is trying to implement. (Recall that much time in the yard is spent waiting for the shops to work the gear and return it.
The Navy is trying to shorten the at the same prices available to their foreign competitors by paying up to 50% (later amended to 55%) of the domestic cost of construction. The payment of direct subsidies was also authorized for ships employed on trade routes that were determined by the Maritime Administration to be essential to our foreign commerce. Therefore, it provided for payment of the difference in cost between operating a specific type of vessel under U. S. registry and operating the same ship under a foreign flag on the same trade route.
The act had also included a provision in the operating differential subsidy contract for the recapture of any profits in excess of 10% of the capital necessarily employed. The government was to recapture half of all such “excess” profits up to the full amount of the subsidy granted. To avoid future block obsolescence, subsidized operators were required to replace
c
amount of time that ships spend out o action in shipyards. Newer classes o vessels are scheduled for restricted availabilities, and the overhaul intervals are stretched out. For older classes, however, some draconian measures are being tried- Ships which normally (or at least historically) have taken a year to overhaul are having their work packages cut back, and the yard is told to produce the ship in nine or ten months instead of 12. These ships COs shake their heads and say, “Pay me now or pay me later.” Cutting the work packages does not make the repair/over- haul requirements go away.
The arbitrary compression of overhau time probably results from the frustration of type and fleet commanders that comes from losing the use of so many ships for so long. The concept outlined here could do a better job of handling both the duration and scheduling problems. The turnaround concept eliminates the dead time ot waiting for the actual overhauls. The system overhaul concept allows fleet schedulers to control when a ship will go out ot action, instead of turning the entire ship over to the tender mercies of a shipyard and hoping for the best.
all ships 25 or more years old.
Budgetary support for the construction differential subsidy has since been eliminated, and stringent restrictions have been imposed on the operating differential subsidy. A protracted effort in Congress to modernize the regulation of shipping in the foreign commerce of the United States was negated at the last minute when the Senate failed to take action in 1982. The active, privately-owned, U.S.-flag fleet dropped from 2,332 ships in 1946 to 466 in January this year. Despite an increase in U. S. oceanborne trade of almost 600% in that period, the percentage carried on U. S.-flag ships dropped from 62% to less than 4%; maritime jobs dropped from 115,000 to one tenth of that amount. From August 1981 to August 1982, about 1,400 seafaring jobs vanished from the United States, and domestic shipyard employment dropped by nearly 30%. Further aggravating the
greatest danger to our U. S.-flag
the me U- S. Merchant Marine is condition of our merchant ships. The -f aSe of the U. S. liner is 17 years stit .cort*'n8 to the Transportation In- 19 U'e *n Camp Springs, Maryland, only bulb '^S *n °Ur current inventory are dry
°vers)aiTierS (m0St'y World War 11 hold'
Pab I'S SCd~ev'^cnt that °ur shipping ca- 0 1 lty cannot carry a greater portion of nav C.0rnmerce or serve as a viable U. S. sh' 3 °f military auxiliary force. Foreign In'^S h°W carry 99% of U. S. bulk cargo. tIla 3 highly competitive world market, t ny nations have resorted to subsidies, ■ncentives, preferential financing, and s- 'reservation laws (or cabotage) de- Cq nCd .t0 S've their shipping industries zup?f)et't'Ve advantages. France, Vene- a, Mexico, Japan, Korea, and— sucl? reCently—(he Philippines provide 'neentives to their merchant fleets fleet, however, comes from the state- owned vessels of socialist and communist nations, whose economic success is secondary to social, political, and military goals. In the past 20 years, the Soviet merchant fleet has more than doubled. It now consists of 2,456 vessels and has jumped from 23rd place in 1946 to sixth place in 1983. The Soviet Union recently announced that it will build 250 new cargo vessels between now and 1985, 170 of which will be dry bulk ships.
It is interesting to note that between June 1980 and July 1981 there were four times more Soviet dry bulk vessels carrying cargo to and from the United States than there were U.S. dry bulk vessels. Currently, foreign ships carry the majority of raw materials our nation needs for industrial and defense security. There are at least ten minerals essential to the national economy and America’s defense mobilization base on which the United
The Falcon Champion, launched in September, was the last subsidized hull built under MarAd's program to make V. S. shipyards more competitive with foreign ones. But a new bill introduced by Representative Lindy Boggs (inset) may breathe new life into our shipbuilding industry.
States is more than 90% import-dependent; at least half of 20 or more such minerals are also derived from foreign sources.
Currently, there is a bill before Congress which could cure many of our Merchant Marine’s ills. Known as the Boggs Bulk Bill, the measure is formally called the Competitive Shipping and Shipbuilding Act of 1983 (H.R. 1242) and was introduced by Representative Lindy Boggs (D-LA); Senator Russel Long (D-LA) has cosponsored a Senate version of this bill, which was introduced by Senator Paul Trible (R-VA). The Boggs Bill has gone through both House and Senate hearings, and now waits to be considered by the House Committee on Merchant Marine and Fisheries.
This legislation, if passed, would require that—by 1990—20% of all U. S. bulk cargo be carried on U. S.-flag ships, built in U. S. shipyards, and manned by American crews. The law would be phased in over 15 years, beginning with 5% of cargoes in 1984 and increasing 1% each year. But it is also tied to a provision which calls for a 15% reduction in the costs of constructing and operating the ships. The legislation would also create construction jobs; at least 158 vessels would have to be built in U. S. shipyards by 1999. The act would also create thousands of jobs on board ships, in shipyards, and in allied industries. Most important, it would generate about $52 million in federal and state revenues by putting people back to work, and provide additional national security assets at no cost to the taxpayer.
The Boggs Bill, which will cost the U. S. Government and taxpayers nothing, offers a solution to our current Merchant Marine crisis, and can ensure that U. S.-flag vessels will sail on the trade routes of the world’s oceans once again in significant numbers.
Lieutenant Commander Baucom earned a B.S. in nautical science from the California Maritime Academy in 1972. While on active duty with the U. S. Navy, he served in the USS Marias (AO-57) and the USS Saratoga (CV-60). He is a licensed master of freight and towing vessels, and is employed as a chief mate by Crowley Maritime Corporation.
'See Robert Zubrin’s professional note, “What Eve Happened to Our Nuclear Merchant Marine?” m * 2 * 4 5 6 7 8 9 * 11 * * 4 August 1983 Proceedings, pp. 119-121.
2“Subsea Transport of Arctic Oil,” L. Jacobsen General Dynamics Corp. Offshore Technology C°n ference paper 1425, April 1971.
^‘Transportation of Arctic Petroleum Resources,
J. W. Devanney III and J. B. Lassiter, MIT. A rep0 prepared for W. H. Kumm, R&D Office, U. S. time Administration, under contract 3-36230, Marc 1973. „
4‘‘Arctic Submarine Transportation System—19'5,
A seven-volume study report prepared by an induS^ team led by Newport News Shipbuilding unde Mar Ad contract 4-37032, January 1975. AB°’ MarAd 1975 Annual Report, Chapter 6, R&D, seC tion on Advanced Ship Systems, p. 32.
5“National Petroleum Reserve—Alaska, Muring Transportation Systems Analysis,” study perform6 by John J. McMullen Associates, Inc. under MarA contract DO-A01-78-00-3082, Exhibit 1-4 Crude On Summary curve, pp. 1-10.
6‘‘Arctic Submarine Tanker System,” P. K. Tayl°r and J. B. Montgomery, Newport News Shipbuilding- OTC paper 2998, May 1977.
7Private Communication, Subject: “Submersib Tanker,” Jay. A. Precourt, Hamilton Brothers 0*
Co. Dec. 28, 1978 to W. H. Kumm.
8‘‘Power System Efficiency Comparison as a Fun6 tion of Size” Figure 1.3, Page 5, of U. S. Depart ment of Energy Handbook of Fuel Cell Performance- prepared by the Institute of Gas Technology,
1980, under contract EC-77-C-03-1545. Gas Re' search Institute Five Year Plan, 1983-1987, Apf* 1982. Phosphoric Acid Fuel Cells, 4.3.1., pp- 173"
177, and Table VIM, Funding For Fuel Cell Energy Systems Subprogram. ‘‘Fuel Cell Prospects Loo Brighter,” Chemical Engineering, 24 January 1983* pp. 30-33. ‘‘Portable Fuel Cells,” S. Abens. Energy Research Corporation. Published in ‘‘Internationa Power Generation,” April 1981.
9‘‘Fuel Cell Propelled Submarine Tanker System Study,” Document No. DOE/FE/15086—1. Fre' pared by Arctic Enterprises Inc. for DOE under con* tract DE-AC01-81-15086, June 1982. Figure 4.1-1- .
p. 4-2.
"Table 5.1-1, "165,000 DWT Subtanker—'Weigh1 and Volume Summary”, Page 5-8 of Ref. 13.
“Table 5.1-1, p. 5-8 of Ref. 13.
,2Table 5.1-1, p. 5-8 of Ref. 13.
,3Section 2.4 “Tradeoff to Determine Route, Dead* weight, Speed and Number of Vessels,” p. 2-6 0 Ref. 13.
l4Figure 3.6-1 “Effect of Power Plant Efficiency and Route Length on RFR of Nuclear and Non Nuclear Subtankers,” p. 3-49 of Ref. 13..
,5“North Slope Borough, Alaska, General Information and Economic Factors,” July 1976.
[1] Authority and responsibility to resolve
flUes will be diluted.
a„a nsuccessful forays will be launched
lnst the almost completely impenetra-