Professional Notes

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.

That Dangerous Polyester Look % Lieutenant David M. Kennedy, U. S. Navy, and Lieutenant William R. C. Stewart III, Medical Corps, U. S. Naval Reserve

Depending on the aircraft type, only 3% to 10% of accidents involving U. S. Navy aircraft result in fires. However, these fiery mishaps account for a dispro­portionate 65% of aircraft accident heaths. Many of these deaths could have been prevented if precautions had been employed to prevent or decrease the se­verity of bums sustained by the victims.

The severity of a bum depends upon heat intensity and duration of exposure, t'lrst-dcgree bums are similar to sunburn and are characterized by red, tender skin, i econd-degree bums damage the under­tying layers of skin, causing blisters and ^severe pain. Third-degree bums involve me tissues beneath the skin (including the nerves) and yield dead tissue which will not regenerate, causing permanent scars and disfigurement. Although the heat of an accidental fire is difficult to control, decreasing the exposure to heat through the use of proper clothing and safety equipment can significantly decrease the severity of burns.

Dearly purchased experience has taught the Navy that different fabrics have extremely variable characteristics when exposed to fire. Unfortunately, some of these lessons are either ignored or not promulgated widely until after yet another tragedy causes an all-too-tempo- rary interest in the subject.

In the 1970s, the United States experi­enced a polyester revolution which in­cluded widespread use of a polyester fab­ric weave known as double knit. The fabrics were hailed as lightweight, inex­pensive, and easy to care for. The Navy leaped into the polyester/double knit pro­gram with both feet, authorizing almost every uniform to be manufactured from the material. As an example of this tran­sition, enlisted jumper white uniforms (formerly all-cotton) were reissued in an all-synthetic material. Corfam poromeric shoes continued to be popular as an “easy to care for” part of the uniform. It became commonplace for a sailor to be clothed almost entirely with synthetic materials.

A disturbing fact became clear about the polyester and poromeric materials. The Naval Safety Center concluded that clothing made of 100% polyester fabric poses a serious bum hazard because the fabric melts and clings to the skin when exposed to temperatures in excess of 500°F. Short of melting, the Naval Safety Center also discovered that double knit materials have increased heat retention properties—enough to convert a first- degree scald into a second-degree bum, for example.

In addition, a disturbing set of events occurred which seemed to reflect doubt on the advisability of using polyester materials for naval uniforms. A chief petty officer wearing double-knit khakis was severely burned when exposed to flash fire in a ship’s fireroom. Safety Center experiments showed that corfam shoes burned and melted when subjected to flame. A U. S. Army aviator wearing a Nomex flight suit received fatal bums following a crash traceable to the melted nylon undershorts and undershirt he was wearing. (His Nomex flight suit was in­tact and his copilot, wearing Nomex with cotton undergarments, was only slightly injured.) In more recent experience, Royal Navy crewmen wearing polyester coveralls suffered severely aggravated polyester slag burns during the Falklands Conflict.

97

We often say that our safety regula­tions are written with blood, and, in the case of synthetic materials, they have been. To the Navy’s credit, changes were enacted immediately in the face of such irrefutable experience: 100% polyester uniforms were prohibited from opera­tional firerooms. The wearing of long­sleeved shirts was encouraged on board ship. Only undershirts made of white cot­ton or cotton/polyester blend were au­thorized, with round-neck undershirts required with the jumper on board ship and in areas where industrial fire hazards exist. Flame-retardant clothing (long re­quired of flight crews) became mandatory when engaged in hot work such as weld­ing, when exposed to open flames during boiler light-off, and when performing spark-producing work such as grinding. Finally, the following criterion for evalu­ation of uniform suitability was added to Navy Uniform Regulations (1305.1.6) in the late 1970s: “The ability to protect, or at least not present a hazard to person­nel" (authors’ emphasis).

One curious aspect of these positive steps, however, is their very limited scope. They seemed to be based on a be­lief that fires are confined to spark and flame-producing industrial work environ­ments, and that fires on board ship are limited to firerooms, boiler rooms, weld­ing operations, and grinding. Our hard- earned corporate experience has shown, on the contrary, that fires can and do occur anywhere. We are obliged to exam­ine the scope of the prohibition of 100% polyester uniforms by answering some questions: How many of all bum deaths and injuries suffered by Navy personnel have been confined to firerooms, boiler rooms, and machine shops? How many have been confined to ships? And how can we justify the wearing of 100% poly­ester uniforms anywhere on board ship when each crew member must be pre­pared to fight fires (that is, be part of the damage control solution)?

We can be justifiably proud of the Navy’s stalwart stand in favor of ship­board construction materials that are safe—or at least not dangerous—when exposed to the inevitability of fire at sea. The methods take longer and the materi­als cost more, but we can justify the ef­fort in terms of lives saved and ships that remain in operation. Recent fires in major hotels and on board airliners are driving home this hard safety lesson to our civil­ian counterparts. An example of this is the controversy surrounding the fire that engulfed Canadair’s DC-9 Flight 727 in which 19 persons died. Time magazine of 3 June 1983 described what has almost become the standard post-airline mishap response: “In Washington, aviation offi­cials debated once again whether more stringent regulations regarding fire-resist­ant materials inside jetliners should be imposed. The disaster was likely to put pressure on the FAA to formulate fire- prevention policy for airline cabins.”

The irony of accidents is at work here. Not just that we could easily prevent the cause of any accident (“breaking a chain of events” is often heard) but that certain injuries could have been reduced or elim­inated altogether by very simple precau­tions. In the case of 100% polyester uni­forms, the irony is one more of commission than omission, and for that reason is doubly ironic.

So, we may ask, why not get rid of the polyester danger to fleet personnel? The reason why we can’t get rid of it is be­cause the danger has just been reintro­duced. As of 1 October 1983, certified Navy twill—made of polyester materi­al—became the approved fabric for dress, liberty, and ceremonial uniforms. In the face of all we have learned about the dangers involved with certain syn­thetic materials—and the positive steps the Navy has made to eliminate these hazards—we have taken a large step backward. In the Naval Safety Center’s own words (Weekly Summary 17-83): “The new Navy uniform is called ‘Certi­fied Navy Twill.’ Actually, it’s 100% polyester despite the salty designation. More important, it melts well . . . . ”

Prescribing a demonstrably hazardous material for use in demonstrably hazard­ous work environments, in direct contra­diction to stated Navy policy and docu­mented experience, may very well constitute the ultimate irony. We urgently need to reevaluate the use, and require­ment for use, of polyester materials in any Navy uniform. As experienced cal­culated risk-takers, we learn to pick and choose the risks we take carefully. Let’s eliminate this unnecessary one.

Lieutenant Kennedy is the training officer for VA-27, which is currently stationed at Naval Air Station Lemoore, California.

Lieutenant Stewart is currently serving with Marine Air Group 29 at Marine Corps Air Station New River, North Carolina.

Radiation Tactics

By Captain Randell H. Prothro, U. S. Navy (Retired)

Zonari was 20 years old and he felt great pride in being the navigator for the entire Persian fleet, led by King Xerxes; 1,000 ships and more than 200,000 men were embarked. Zonari’s sister, Leonotra, was quite proud of him and came to see him off. She cautioned Zonari to carry out the king’s orders to stay out of sight of land and to maintain silence as they approached the Greek coast off Salamis. The third night out, after he sighted the North Star to measure its elevation and confirm his position, Zonari issued new orders to the helms­man, then he thought again about the speech King Xerxes had given all the ship captains just before their departure from Byzantium. Any captain who displeased Xerxes would be summarily removed from command and probably executed, but Zonari felt sure that the king was right. If they remained undetected, the chaos and confusion of surprise would make the total destruction of the Greek fleet not only possible, but highly likely. When he returned to Persia, his family would be honored and he would be rich from plunder. Perhaps he might even bring home a few slaves.

Several days later, Zonari knew that his navigation had been perfect, and they would arrive to fall on the Greeks just at first light. But now the wind was falling and the sea was very calm. If they could not maintain the required speed of ad­vance under sail they would be forced to use the galley slaves to row. The slave master, in charge of the oarsmen, was a noisy gladiator champion who took great delight in cursing and lashing his slaves. But worst of all, he had instituted a flute cadence by which the oarsmen knew ex­actly when to stroke and when to glide. The flute would surely be heard by the lookouts on the Greek hills and on their ships, especially on such a calm night. Zonari was concerned and spoke to Xerxes. Shortly thereafter, just before dark, the signal officer sent a message to the other ships: “no repeat no flutes

IF WE ROW TONIGHT. SET EMCON ALFA.

Themistocles, the Athenian admiral, appreciated the geographic advantages of Salamis. The restricted approach made his forces, outnumbered four to one, nearly equal to the Persians. The breeze that came up each morning and brought

^UP a ground swell in the narrow channel through which the Persians must ap­proach would give him a definite advan­tage. He also knew the Persians would come at first light, for his lookouts, al­though hearing nothing, had seen the thousands of lights used by the Persians for station keeping. Emission control (EmCon) had been only partially set.

As it turned out, Xerxes lost 200 ships and 20,000 men, not counting the 200 captains and his navigator Zonari— ^whom he beheaded. Soon after Salamis, he withdrew from Greece and from the Mediterranean, thus allowing the glories °f ancient Greece to flourish, from "'hence came some of our own love of freedom and democracy.

Today, much as Xerxes did in 480 “ high-ranking U. S. Navy surface warfare admirals would sack a command- fore launching offensive attacks. In rare cases, EmCon has been employed by unit commanders to avoid a superior enemy or escape entrapment. During World War II, EmCon was much tighter than in the Ko­rean and Vietnam wars, mainly because enemy counterintelligence was much more sophisticated and extensive.

The flow of message traffic from the operating forces has always been the first to be controlled under certain EmCon conditions, but the incoming flow also is controlled lest the increased activity to the operating forces from headquarters inadvertently signals the preparation for important combat or intelligence activi­ties. Most EmCon has been associated with communication traffic from head­quarters, and with both message traffic and other emissions from the operating forces. In fact, we have not forgotten vis- combatants. So far, all aircraft carriers have been equipped with the AN/SSQ-82 (MUTE) to satisfy the EmCon opera­tional requirement. The top priority for future installations of SSQ-82 has been switched from amphibious ships to cruis­ers and back again, with selected am­phibious ships now to be followed by frigates and cruisers.

The degree of stealth offered by the SSQ-82 has been evaluated thoroughly, with measurable emissions being de­tected; EmCon was set in less than a sec­ond. So now we have achieved two criteria for an effective EmCon strategy—rapid execution and satisfac­tory quietness. Unfortunately, no evalua­tion of tactics or operational implications was made, even though the important need for orchestration was inherent in the EmCon operational requirement. In other

^lng officer if he failed to set EmCon fast enough, but that does not solve the prob- nt- The day of silencing the drums and ^utes is over. We have gone from an ^agrarian nation to an industrial nation and ^e now evolving into an information­processing nation. There are a multitude ^ drummers and listeners, not just over ^e horizon, but in the heavens and under seas. We can still hide for a time, but must do more—we must orchestrate ur assets. The concept of EmCon must ange; _{We ncet}j _t0 think in terms of radi- ^U‘ⁿ tactics and not stealth, mission control is trapped in a f dset. It i_s considered only a method jjJ ^av°'ding detection. In this role, it has * remarkably successful and has been ^e by forces in the field and at sea be- ual emissions and reflections, and have developed and used many excellent cam­ouflage techniques. Nevertheless, the mental concept is, and always has been, stealth. That simple, single-purpose con­cept is no longer adequate. If we expect to survive tomorrow, we must begin to think radiation tactics today.

An operational requirement (OR) for emission control—long recognized al­though unwritten—was formally ap­proved in 1975 for the purpose of defeat­ing the Soviet Navy’s ocean surveillance system and the antiradiation missile threat. However, again the concept is one of silence and not tactical manipulation or control of radiations. This current re­quirement covers major combatants and ships which operate in support of major

The use of emission control to avoid detection is a radiation tactic that surface warriors understand and use. The integration of new technology in the battle group offers other radiation tactics.

words, we did not brainstorm radiation tactics:

►  How to manage the battle

►  How to deceive the enemy when close in with decoys or when at long range with false transmissions

►  How to choose the most effective re­source for defeating the enemy

►  How to limit the broadcast of informa­tion by using data links and bistatic re­flectivity

► How to cause an antiradiation missile to guide to a centroid position

These options and more are available today, because for the first time, we have instantaneous control of our transmitters from direct current to light. Also, elec­tronic countermeasures have matured. The advent of sophisticated, accurate, and rapid reduction of error analysis in detection and tracking systems and weap­ons, through the use of microelectronics and minicomputers, has stimulated de­velopment in the countermeasure world. Most countermeasure systems are devel­oped to stand alone and are oriented to­ward specific weapon systems, such as strike aircraft, fighter aircraft, or ships.

This point-defense mentality is caused, in major part, because programs and projects are funded as line items (pro­gram elements) for the development and introduction into the fleet of new capabil­ities. The program/project manager sa­lutes and carries out his orders. No one identifies money for integration of sys­tems, especially competing systems. There has been talk about integration, but because of the difficulty of interfacing systems that use different sensors and processing techniques, or are tightly operator-oriented, there has been only limited success. The electronic warfare community recognizes the need for coordination and orchestration; in most cases, so do the operators—they just haven’t gotten organized.

No mission or platform sponsor is re­sponsible for and, more importantly, properly funded for accomplishing inte­gration in a meaningful way. The control and monitoring of emissions must move rapidly toward integration, with manage­ment coordination at the officer-in-tac­tical-command level within a task force, to effectively tailor emitter shutdowns and lightoffs, and to preclude inadvertent broadcasts that might destroy the effec­tiveness of the entire battle group. Time is of the essence when using radiation tactics; less than 30 seconds are available to tum off or on all equipment required to counter an antiradiation missile. The mis­sile is difficult to detect, the range of de­tection is short, and the time from detec­tion to impact is only a matter of seconds—the time to act is always now.

The combat direction system for the Arleigh Burke (DDG-51 )-class destroyer can be a stepping-stone for approaching battle group integration. Technology sim­ply will not stand still long enough for us to adequately define, much less achieve, “total” integration. It is important that some operators recognize the need for radiation tactics and are calling for inte­gration and orchestration. The generic surface warfare officer, like his aviator counterpart, is an activist, a gun cocker, a missileer who is basically prejudiced in favor of hard kills. He feels more secure when the enemy is blown away, or falling out of the sky, or exploding and sinking.

Electronic countermeasures are more passive: the missile flies just out of range, or drifts off course and disappears into the sunset. Our warrior is never sure whether the countermeasure really worked or if the missile simply failed. Electronic warfare development that would cause the missile warhead to deto­nate, or the missile’s controls to execute a violent maneuver at the press of a button, would certainly make it easier for the operator to accept the concept of radia­tion tactics with electronic warfare and EmCon as being on a par with guns and missiles in the combat direction system. Chaff dispensers, decoy systems, antira­diation missile detection systems, and “gate stealers” can give the shipboard operator this confidence. Now he needs an integrated command and control sys­tem with a decision aid device that can use test results, propagation estimates, environmental factors, kill probabilities, and the subjective judgment of the officer in tactical command to help him choose the most effective radiation tactic: hard kill, soft kill, avoidance, deception.

The important fact is that countermea­sures against command, control, and communications are a tactical choice to defeat a threat just as effectively as a gun or missile. Today, when time is so criti­cal, success in combat depends on an in­tegrated command, control, and commu­nications system that includes a decision aid that can quickly evaluate the available intelligence inputs and, using situation- oriented values, formulate a course of action and recommend a tactical choice to the officer in tactical command.

Stimulate your thinking; expand on a defensive concept that will allow you to enhance your force survivability by using radiation tactics to deceive enemy sur­veillance (e.g., rapidly shifting the radar and communication guard duty between widely separated ships). The shifting position of an apparent target might de­grade a surface, air, or space system used for localizing and identifying targets. If your force is under attack by antiradiation weapons, can you shut down all emis­sions at or near the frequency on which these weapons are homing, while simul­taneously launching a decoy or chaff? The possibilities are endless.

Do something today—think radiation tactics. Find the dollars, take the respon­sibility, organize, go in harm’s way and develop today what you need for survival tomorrow.

Don’t wait for Xerxes to chop off your head.

Captain Prothro, a graduate of the U. S. Naval Acad­emy in the Class of 1945, flew Navy aircraft for 21 years; he was the commanding officer of VF-151 in 1962 on board the USS Coral Sea (CV-43). Cur­rently, he is the founder/president of Hunt Enter­prises, Inc., an engineering consulting firm in Chevy Chase, Maryland.

Dogfights of the Future

By Commander Robert A. Weatherup, U. S. Navy (Retired)

This article is concerned primarily with the challenge of increasing fighter effec­tiveness once the aircraft are in the air. At some point in the future, runway vulnera­bility considerations may lead to more aggressive development of vertical or short takeoff and landing (V/STOL) fighters—at least for land-based aircraft. At that time, the V/STOL challenge will probably be the major challenge for the vehicle designers. However, since the V/STOL challenge can be treated as a separate issue, this discussion is directed at those factors which are expected to determine future fighter effectiveness once the aircraft are airborne. It is as­sumed that the initial contact between friendly and enemy aircraft will involve two or more aircraft on each side, so that there is an implied requirement for com­mand and control, tactics, and airborne fire control, including the possibility of missile assignment.

Much of this discussion is concerned with air-to-air missiles and fire control systems. This does not imply that there is no further need for improvements in the aircraft itself. In fact, quite the contrary is true. For example, there will continue to be situations where fighter aircraft are

required to close and identify unknown aircraft which intrude into airspace of in­terest. For this identification-type mis­sion, the fighter needs a speed at least equal to that of the intruder. In the some­what similar wartime intercept missions, high fighter speed increases the area (coverage) over which the fighter can be effective. High fighter speed also in­creases the speed and range of air-to-air missiles since the missiles start their free flight with a higher initial velocity. This effect can be considerable against high- altitude enemy targets. It is also possible ^to conceive of situations where high ^sPeed provides the fighter with the option °f terminating an engagement. In short, there are and will continue to be advan­tages associated with such simple aircraft Parameters as high speed.

Various threat projections indicate that ^u- S. fighter aircraft will probably be outnumbered in the early days of any aer- >al combat with the Soviet Union. Ide- ^al|y, a U. S. flight leader will want to reduce the number of enemy aircraft with a long-range missile attack, and then . e the option of closing to a maneuver- ^lng engagement. For example, on some missions such as a fighter sweep, a flight ^eader will probably be free to decide Whether to close on the enemy survivors of his missile attack, or turn and go home ^or more missiles. From a fire control Point of view, the flight leader should use ne results of his missile exchange as the asis for his decision. An aggressive ight leader will close on the enemy sur- ^V'^v°rs if he knows that his missile ex- ange has given him a local superiority m numbers, position, or capability.

Until the relatively recent development

0     *f*^c F-14/Phoenix system, a fighter Pilot was essentially limited to single air­^craft attacks. The F-14/Phoenix system can have as many as six missiles in flight

one time, aimed at six separate targets, rule this system was designed primarily °r fleet air defense, this multitarget ca­Pa ility should be valuable in more gen- ^ral air-to-air combat. In this connection, advanced medium-range air-to-air t_e'^Ss^^e (AMRAAM) is expected to ex- oriu similar multitarget capabilities to Uch more general air-to-air combat sce- ⁿ°s, and will introduce a new era of RAA ^{air com}f^|at- Although the AM­in *^{s ex}pected to provide for a major

1     rease in fighter effectiveness, it also reduces a requirement for additional

fc control capabilities. _vvjJ"^ul1 exploitation of the AMRAAM require a track-while-scan feature in _a ra(f^ar of the firing aircraft. With such _Nvj_i^eatUre, the AMRAAM will be some- ^{at H|}re a “little Phoenix” in that a pilot

will be able to have several missiles in flight at the same time, aimed at several different targets. The AMRAAM will have an active seeker which will “lock- on” to its target at some point during the missile’s flight. This active seeker capa­bility is sometimes called “fire and for­get” or “launch and leave.” In theory, there could be occasions where a pilot would have several missiles in flight against several separate targets and be free to “forget” his AMRAAM missiles and then maneuver to bring his Sidewind­ers and/or gun to bear on additional enemy aircraft. While this may be an ex­treme case, it does illustrate that the AMRAAM will provide significant new capabilities. It also indicates a need to handle much more target data if the AMRAAM is to be fully exploited.

The primary objective of a multitarget air-to-air missile system is to avoid over­kill on some targets while failing to en­gage others. While it may not be possible to accommodate all desirable fire control functions in a practical system and a real­istic scenario, several functions stand out in their importance and need to be evalu­ated accordingly.

The first function is to detect potential enemy targets by radar and/or passive electronic countermeasures. For simplic­ity, the following analysis does not in­clude a significant discussion of the prob­able effects of electronic counter-meas­ures and counter-counter-measures.

It is appreciated that various electronic techniques will confer advantages until the opponent changes tactics, and/or de­velops new equipment. However, the objective of a multitarget air-to-air mis­sile system will not be changed.

From an individual pilot’s point of view, he needs to gain contact with his own radar. In a defensive mission, the pilot may be under control of an airborne warning and control system or a ground control intercept system. In this case, the control station will probably place the fighter in a position where its radar will detect an approaching enemy which has been detected and tracked by other sys­tems. On an offensive mission such as a fighter sweep, the pilot will be depending on his own radar (or other sensors) to make the initial detection of enemy air­craft targets. In either type of mission, the fighter’s detection range should be large enough to provide time for addi­tional fire control functions before the opponents are in range. In an ideal case for target designation, a flight leader would collect the following data:

► Number of radar blips

►  Number of aircraft in each blip

►  Target (or blip) tracks

►  Identification friend-or-foe (IFF) re­turns, if any

At or near the maximum detection range, it may not be possible to count individual aircraft, although there may be some in­dication as to whether a radar blip con­tains one or several targets.

Based on the best data available, the flight leader must assign the radar blips to his individual aircraft. Ideally, the final objective is to fire a missile at each enemy aircraft on which a firing solution can be obtained. Lacking information as to the number of aircraft within each radar blip, doctrine might call for desig­nating the blips about equally to each air­craft, with the flight leader being free to select the most threatening blip(s) for his own target(s). In any event, the flight leader must exercise a command and con­trol function.

From a command and control point of view, there is a need for a secure data link to designate the various radar targets to individual aircraft. Obviously, this data link should provide for rapid designa­tions. However, squadron doctrine could provide a backup method to achieve standard radar target designations in cases of equipment failure and/or severe jamming.

After a radar target has been desig­nated to an aircraft, the pilot is expected to perform these functions:

►  Track his radar target(s)

►  Determine the number of individual

The AMRAAM, slated for operational use with the fleet in 1986, will give our fighter pilots greater firepower in air-to-air combat.

aircraft (to the degree possible)

►  Assign his missiles “about” equally to enemy aircraft or radar targets

►  Obtain conservative firing solutions

►  Check IFF—if there are no friendly indications, complete firing preparations

►  Fire and update missiles until lock-on, or possibly to a “forget” time

About this time, the individual pilot, or his flight leader, will probably be plan­ning attacks on survivors of the initial missile attack. While this outline of fire control functions is somewhat idealistic, it does illustrate the functions which need to be considered in anticipation of the ini­tial operational capability of the multitar­get AMRAAM which is expected in 1986.

Against a semiactive missile such as the AIM-7, the enemy can be expected to use a separated formation so that there would not be more than one enemy air­craft illuminated within the real beam of the attacking aircraft’s radar. On the other hand, an enemy aircraft commander might use a clustered formation against a multitarget missile system. In either case, once the missiles are in flight, the ex­pected number of enemy aircraft killed (E_k) will be determined primarily by two missile parameters: the missile’s single shot kill probability (P_Kss), and the mis­sile seeker’s target selection capabilities when fired into a clustered radar target. In this context, aircraft spacing in a clus­tered radar target would be large enough to prevent the loss of more than one air­craft to any given missile, but small enough to limit the radar’s ability to “count” the number of individual air­craft in a radar target at the expected mis­sile launch ranges. The missile seeker’s target selection capabilities are illustrated in Figure 1.

In theory, a missile can have any of the following target selection characteristics when fired into a clustered radar target:

►  Single Target Selection: That is, all the missiles would home on the nearest or brightest target. This would result in a massive overkill on one target. The AMRAAM will have features designed to preclude single target selection.

►  Random Target Selection: This case results when any given missile is equally likely to lock-on to any given target. Ran­dom selection is a convenient mathemati­cal concept for analysis. Some experts feel that a random target selection will be achieved almost automatically since radar returns tend to scintillate (build and fade) in a random manner. In any event, it is hoped that the AMRAAM will approach a random target selection when fired into a clustered radar target.

►  Perfect Target Selection: This case re­sults when an equal number of missiles can be assigned to lock-on to each indi­vidual target aircraft. It is probably unre­alistic to think of perfect target selection against clustered targets. (Against widely separated individual aircraft, it is antici­pated that missiles can be assigned in an essentially perfect manner.)

Figure 2 illustrates the effect of the missile seeker’s target selection capabili­ties when a salvo (ripple launch) of eight missiles is fired into an enemy formation containing various numbers of aircraft. The figure of merit is the expected num­ber of enemy kills for a missile having a single shot probability of kill of 0.7. This table demonstrates the vital importance of having a missile seeker which will avoid single target selection and approach a “random draw” in its target selection capability. For the case shown, an eight- missile salvo is probably justified if there are indications of three or more enemy aircraft in formation.

In the general case, neither the flight commander nor an individual pilot will have perfect information. In this connec­tion, it is noted that the aircraft spacing in a clustered formation will be large enough to prevent the loss of more than one aircraft to any given missile, but small enough to limit target discrimina­tion at the predicted missile launch ranges. Thus, there will be cases where it is not possible to count the number of enemy aircraft in any given radar return. Therefore, decisions as to radar target designation and/or missile assignment will usually need to be made on incom­plete information.

Figure 3 shows the expected kills as a function of the number of aircraft in a radar return and the number of missiles fired into the radar return. This table as­sumes that the missile seeker has a ran­dom target selection capability and a sin­gle shot probability of kill of 0.7.

Random Target Selection

Perfect Target Selection

*Pk_ss = 1.0 (4 Missiles, 4 Targets)

One to Four Kills— Expected: 2.73 Kills

Four Kills

Figure 4 is similar, except that it as­sumes the missile has a perfect target se­lection capability—which is not likely against a clustered target. However, the primary observation from both tables is that a pilot should be provided data as to the number of individual aircraft in a radar return if he is expected to employ his missiles effectively. This would be especially true on a fighter escort mission where a pilot would be interested in con­serving some missiles for possible use later in the mission. Phrased differently,

All Missiles Home on Nearest or Brightest Target

T

Eight Missile Salvo (Ripple) P_Kss = 0.70

w

j/>

■o

£

o

0)

CL

X

LU

--------------------------- 1----- 1---- 1----- 1----- 1----- 1----- 1---- 1—

3456789                                   10

Number of Aircraft in Radar Return

Single target selection must be avoided.

Need random target selection which approaches perfect target selection.

11

the pilot would not want to waste several missiles on a single aircraft. This require­ment to count aircraft in a radar return presents an additional technical challenge to the designers of fighter radars.

It appears that Doppler beam sharpen- tng may not produce the target resolution required to count targets in a clustered formation. It has been suggested that it might be possible to improve radar range resolution to the point where individual aircraft can be counted. That is, it would be almost impossible for an enemy pilot lo keep his formation in a line abreast and facing radars from various directions at the same time. In short, there should al­ways be some variation in the range to different aircraft even in a clustered for­mation. It is understood that, in theory at ■east, radar is capable of very precise ^range measurements; perhaps it would be Possible to count by variations in range. *n any event, we have a technical chal- ^enge to improve radar resolution so that ^a Pilot will have a more rational basis for decisions as to the number of expensive missiles which should be fired into a radar return.

A flight leader also needs to know the results of his missile attack. If it turned out to be largely successful, the flight eader would probably elect to close and mish off the survivors. On the other and, and on certain missions, a flight eader would have to use discretion in eciding whether to close a numerically ^suPerior enemy force. This would be es­pecially true if most of the friendly mis- ^S|les had been expended without apparent ■tect on the enemy formation. In short, .re *^{s 3} need for a kill assessment func- ^l0n- Improved radar resolution would Provide for both raid assessment before aunching the missiles and kill assess- ^nient after missile impact. In this sense, ■mproved radar resolution appears to be ^ssential in fire control systems designed ^or full exploitation of AMRAAM-type missiles.

... hill assessment function implies , ^at Ihe missile impact points for all of ■ ^e missiles in a multitarget salvo (ripple *J*nch) should be observed by the radar me firing aircraft. That is, radar obser- ¹⁰ⁿ of impact points would provide _eⁿ_n^put data for kill assessment. If the my should employ a widely separated °rrnation, the friendly missile impact mts would be separated by considera- ₍j ⁶ distances in both azimuth and eieva- ⁿ, Preliminary analysis indicates that hjrehanically scanned radar systems will the^^U'-^e              m fheir scan volumes as

missiles in a salvo (ripple launch) fired°^aCh *^^e'^r            ' impact” points when

ugainst a widely separated enemy

8­

7­

6­

5

4­3­2­1 - 0

0 1

formation. Fortunately, the development of electronically scanned systems appears to provide the scan volume required to exploit AMRAAM-type systems against widely separated targets. Thus, it appears that radars based on electronic scan will be required in future airborne fire control systems in order to increase scan volume for the kill assessment function.

A recent study of AMRAAM showed potential advantages in other fire control and missile parameters: range and missile velocity effects, maneuver time available (MTA) in dueling situations as a function of missile velocity and seeker range, mul­titarget scenarios, and “forget time” as a function of missile seeker capability. The specific values of these parameters are of interest, but the important conclusion is that there are major effectiveness gains available from multitarget fire control and missile systems. Can we maintain such systems? If we go ahead with even more advanced missiles, fire control sys­tems, and aircraft, it appears that they should be designed as systems so that the various components are compatible. For example, there are only limited advan­tages to having a long-range missile un­less the aircraft has the detection range, fire control system, and payload capabil­ity necessary to support the number of missiles which can be employed in rea­sonable multitarget scenarios.

In summary, it may be that future air- to-air combat will be influenced more by missiles and fire control systems than by aircraft performance. This does not sug­gest that aircraft design has fully ma­tured. However, it may suggest a change in emphasis if we feel that advanced mis­sile and fire control systems can be main­

Additional Gain From Perfect Target Selection

Gain From Random Target Selection i

12

tained in a reasonable state of readiness. Presuming that the United States seeks to maintain a superiority in air-to-air combat through superior technology, ten specific functions need attention.

Detection Range: The greater the de­tection range, the more time is available for fire control functions. Simple detec­tion tends to be a “knee of the curve” problem which leads to diminishing re­turns as power is increased, etc.

Target Discrimination:       The goal

should be the ability to count individual aircraft. Perhaps discrimination by range difference has merit. Improved discrimi­nation would improve both the raid as­sessment and kill assessment functions.

Radar Scan Volume: The goal should be to provide scan volume sufficient to observe the impact points of all missiles in a salvo against a widely separated enemy formation. Mechanically scanned systems will be deficient in this area. Electronically scanned systems appear to provide major scan volume increases in both azimuth and elevation.

Data Link(s): The flight leader must be able to assign targets. The data link(s) must be secure, jam resistant, reliable, and fast. Ideally, the flight leader might punch an address button and then assign a particular target to his wing man by “touching” the target blip on a display.

Identification Friend-or-Foe (IFF): This is both a technical problem and an operational problem. Possibly, the firing doctrine should permit firing on threaten­ing targets so long as they do not show friendly indications. Ships have often operated on some variation of this doc­trine. In any event, we must not permit Americans to be killed by inferior enemy

01                          2345678 9     10    11    12

Number of Aircraft in Radar Return

• The individual pilot needs a raid count prior to missile assignment—especially on escort missions.

missiles while holding fire and trying to confirm the enemy character of a radar target. A relatively free firing doctrine tends to ensure attention to IFF mainte­nance, check-in calls by returning flights, proper approach procedures, etc.

Missile Speed and/or Range: Is it time to try ramjet sustainers in air-to-air appli­cations? Some Soviet surface-to-air mis­siles (SA-4 and SA-6) use ramjet sus­tainers. The U. S. Navy’s Talos missile used a ramjet sustainer. Ramjet sustainers would provide earlier impacts and/or greater missile range.

Air-to-Air Antiradiation Missile: It is presumed that the enemy will employ various forms of airborne radar and/or jamming systems. Is there a requirement for an air-to-air antiradiation missile de­signed for use against airborne radiators? This potential weapon is somewhat anal­ogous to the antiradiation missiles used to suppress ground-based radars and other radiators. Since passive ranges on radiat­ing (jamming) aircraft may not be very accurate and/or because of long range to standoff jammers, the air-to-air antiradia­tion missile probably should have a ram­jet sustainer for long-range performance. Perhaps the proper solution would be a missile with a ramjet sustainer and a mis­sile seeker which would go active if the radiator should shut down.

Missile Single Shot Probability of Kill:

As used here, this includes missile relia­bility. If the services could be certain of perhaps P_Kss = 0.7, they might consider doctrines wherein one missile would be assigned to one target—if their aircraft also had the maneuverability to kill any survivors of the missile attacks later dur­ing the close-in combat. If the single shot probability of kill is much less than 0.7, it will be necessary to employ doctrines which assign two missiles to each enemy aircraft. Obviously, the payload require­ments on the aircraft and the missile costs will double if it is necessary to assign two missiles to each enemy aircraft.

Missile Seeker’s Target Selection: Sin­gle target selection must be avoided when firing on clustered or group targets. Can a random target selection be approached? Will the services afford enough tests to determine that a random target selection capability has been approached?

Missile Seeker Range: A long-range missile seeker obviously increases the “forget” time. It also provides more maneuver time to the firing aircraft, greater launch ranges when a “lock-on before launch” doctrine is required after the opposing aircraft are mixed in an air combat maneuvering environment.

In earlier times, the country tended to procure advanced systems as soon as they were technically feasible. However, there is now considerable evidence that the ser­vices are having difficulty in maintaining and operating the products of our high- technology industry. The aircraft industry can build better air-to-air missile and fire control systems; these systems can even be justified on a cost-effective basis when they are operating at reasonable availabil­ities. High availability is the product of trained, experienced, and dedicated mili­tary manpower, good maintenance de­signs and concepts, adequate spares and support, and frequent testing of the com­plete system in operations which simulate the wartime environment. This challenge to improve availability is the greatest challenge of all. There is no simple engi­neering solution to this challenge, but it must be met if more complex systems are to succeed.

Commander Weatherup, a 1940 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, served during World War II as a pilot in the Pacific. On 15 April 1945, while flying an F6F Hellcat from the aircraft carrier USS Indepen­dence (CV-22), he engaged an enemy “George” fighter and sent it crashing to the ground. It had been piloted by one of the Japanese Imperial Navy’s top flying aces: Ensign Shoichi Sugita, who had been officially credited with shooting down more than 70 U. S. aircraft. Commander Weatherup recently re­tired from a major aerospace corporation as an opera­tions analysis specialist.

Personal Commitment: Missing and Presumed Lost?

By Commander Dennis L. Zveare, U. S. Navy

Time: 1400 Local. Place: Mid-Atlantic °n board the USS John Smith. High-fre­quency emission control is in effect with ute Task Group Orestes (a ship-to-ship teletype circuit) operating in long-range ■ntercept (LRI) mode; the John Smith is ^{net c}°ntrol station. The staff communica- hons officer walks into radio central and 'nds the wrong group frequency in use, ^and the transmitting power level almost ten times greater than required.

The foregoing is but one example of a virtually limitless number of incidents ^at Point to a significant problem in our ^way of doing business at sea. In sum, we ^are squandering talent and expertise rough simple oversight and lack of at- ^ention. We fail in our operations by not ensuring that vital information is made available where needed. We ask our peo- P e to play _a game without telling them _t°^w toe game is played, what the objec- ^{1Ves are}. or what rules govern the out- th^>nte and we insist that they win all of j.^e games played. We fail to provide suf- ^1Clent information to foster an under­funding of the problem at hand and ereby obviate the opportunity for each ®am member to get involved an form a Personal commitment to success. In the _at °'|^{t term}, toe Navy suffers an immedi- ^e toss in operational readiness and effi- lency. i_n the long term, retention— suff’ ^°^{rCe rea}^'ⁿess and integrity— ers from misuse and low self-esteem, he Navy spends vast sums of money ,_lst^educato and train its officer and en- _n^S ed corps. As a result, we enjoy a tech- ca _an(j operational advantage over the th ^and enhsted personnel manning equ' °^V'^{et Nay}y- Our people know their jj 'Pment, and can operate and maintain _er^eXceP^t'onally well. Procedures for op- fin T”³* ^emPtoyment are taught and re- j_n ^C torough individual and team train- are "^,^^{en a s}h'P puts to sea, these teams _si ^ready and able to carry out their as- toa|^lni_[^l"^nts- It is at this point, however, roo ^{t3C Nay}y’^s propensity for “mush- Bt management” takes over, in ^3C^ ^crew member has his part to play Pu^ymg out the command mission, most ^td’^s obligation is difficult when ^ston ^{Crewrnen not} told what this mis- frie u '^{l a war} 8^ame played against Wp^ ^ trees'? If so, who are they? Wh ^enemy forces do they represent? toem ^{3re t}*^{1£ m}'^es? Are ^we told to find ^shoul i°^nly’ ^{0r are we to} toem? Or All t ^Wereal|y ^ ^trymg ^to avoid them? ⁰⁰ often, sonar team members, for example, know only that they are in port and starboard watch rotation and that they should stand a taut watch. Commitment cannot be built around such a pittance of information.

The radio watch stander of our opening example, usually inundated with a myr­iad of hectic problems, has been told only that he should operate his Task Group Orestes in an LRI mode. He doesn’t know why, and may not even appreciate the tactical objectives and significance of LRI communications. High levels of transmitting power hold no meaning to him. Why, then, expect him to meet a challenge he has not been given? In his mind, his job is to get messages in and out, and to see that these messages are properly routed. He does have a commit­ment to succeed based upon his percep­tion of the job at hand which, in turn, is based upon the information he has been given. He simply has not been given enough information.

Each man on board ship should be in­volved and aware of his operational re­quirement. The quiet antisubmarine war­fare platform operating in a covert mode to maintain passive, unalerted contact on an enemy submarine can be thwarted by an inadvertent and uninformed shift to active-mode sonar transmissions. Al­though he does not understand acoustics or appreciate the ramifications of coun­terdetection range, the machinist’s mate who takes a hammer to his hull-mounted pump can be equally devastating to suc­cessful operations.

The solution to the commitment prob­lem requires three things; an appreciation of the problem, prior planning, and an investment of time.

The entire crew needs to be told the basic mission of the ship and what broad requirements this lays on each man. For example, if two days of a line period in­volve covert detection and tracking of an enemy or exercise submarine, then this should be promulgated along with a few words on special procedures in effect, such as electronic and acoustic emission control and the rudiments of the quiet ship bill. All crew members now feel in­volved in the operation; they understand what they have put to sea to accomplish, and, invariably, they go all out to con­tribute to its success. Opportunity for the inadvertent act that destroys the objective has been much reduced.

A skipper will not be blessed with a committed crew if he keeps them in the dark. Each crew member needs to understand the nature of his ship’s mission, and how his personal responsibility can affect the crew’s performance.

Individual ratings and personnel man-

Pr°cced

ning watch stations require much more information. The antisubmarine warfare attack team, for instance, should know virtually everything available for the spe­cific task at hand: detect, track, kill, or avoid. All available intelligence on the threat—what class of submarine, capa­bilities, probable location, expected tac­tics, assumed objectives—should be a matter of common knowledge among the attack team members. They also should be able to answer pertinent questions about the operation: Who is is charge? What other friendly forces are involved? What is the area of operations? What is own-force track? What are the oceano­graphic, hydrographic, and meteorologi­cal conditions? What are the constraining rules of engagement? Now, each member of the attack team can get personally in­volved because he can recognize the spe-

Gaming for the World cific challenge, and (believe me) he will be ready to accept it.

The members of a radio gang will not take LR1 communications lightly if they know why and how it affects the mission. The machinist’s mate will not send out sledge hammer locating signals through the ship’s hull. Perhaps equally impor­tant, the skipper now has an entire crew which is interested in participating, eager to succeed, proud of its contributions, and consequently content. In the long haul, this feeling of self-worth will carry over and go a long way to enhance the Navy’s retention efforts.

The old Navy adage that you don’t have to be told why, you just have to do as you are told, is still valid. It is, how­ever, often misused and taken out of con­text. When the commanding officer or­ders general quarters to be set, no explanation is required; the adage holds. But to withhold meaningful intelligence and tactical logic wastes talent, expertise, professional advice, reduces operational efficiency significantly, and increases the likelihood of errors.

In a time when we find ourselves badly outnumbered by the Soviets, it seems tragic to reduce our significant edge in technology, personnel, and training for want of a bit of free and readily available information. To realize a maximum re­turn on investment, involve your crew and provide the essentials for personal commitment.

Commander Zveare, a 1966 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, holds an MS. degree from the Naval Postgraduate School and completed the naval command and staff curriculum at the Naval War Col­lege. Currently, he is executive officer of the Recruit Training Command in Orlando, Florida.

by Lieutenant Commander Tracy D. Connors, U. S. Naval Reserve

Last summer, the fifth annual global war game (GWG) concluded at the Navy’s Center for War Gaming at the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. The global war game is a research tool designed to identify major issues in peace and war, and the critical period in which nations slip from diplomacy to hostility. It combines into one scenario many of the separate theater operations which have been gamed during the pre­ceding year. It includes air, land, and maritime activity, along with extensive logistic and political action to help keep the game realistic. Because three weeks-—rather than four or five days— are devoted to play, it is much broader in scope than other games played at the Naval War College. The long playing time affords opportunity to assess the sustainability of forces and to observe the interplay of political and military actions.

The game casts some 350 of our country’s best civilian and military minds into decision-making roles, and chal­lenges them to respond to imaginary but potentially real world crises. The GWG is a test bed of current strategic wisdom in that it is a forum to “assess the fit of what

These U. S. Air Force, Navy, and Army officers recorded the clash between NATO and Warsaw Pact forces in Europe’s central region during the Naval War College’s fifth annual global war game.

we have and to design the shape of what we need.”

The GWG places major emphasis on logistics; it begins within the context of a preplayed strategic mobilization plan. Strategic transportation, tactical mobil­ity, and industrial base weave the entire game. Operationally, the game revolves on the strategic and tactical turns of events created by the players. The game format varies from that of a structured game to that of a seminar game, in order

to enhance the exploration of critical is­sues in a timely manner.

In addition to investigating issues in­volved with the planning of global strate­gies, the GWG also strives to obtain im­portant insights into:

► Maneuver concepts to enhance crises strategies without foreclosing warfighting imperatives

► How naval forces make a strategic dif­ference

► Form and size of logistic systems

U. S. NAVY (P. SALESO^J

needed to support extended operations

► Strategic concepts for mutual support of campaigns ashore and at sea

. fnterservice cooperation and orchestra- hon of joint operations £ Employment of Fleet Marine Forces

► Impact of strategy and maneuver on force effectiveness

The initial scenario for GWG-83 was a worldwide conflict resulting from unrest ^ln Central Europe and a “Red” (Soviets their allies) attack on that region, hen players reported to the center, hostilities” had commenced several oays previously.

The global war game is played by mili- ^ta[y officers and civilian executives who fake the role of “Blue” (U. S. and its ies) commanders, versus those playing . ^e adversary role of Red commanders. It 1? an interactive game pitting Red against me, and attempts to take into considera- *°n the participation of all the allied and aonaligned countries which would also ^e involved if the conflict were world- *J?e. Specialists and expert players pro- ^lde anticipated reactions by various countries to events of the conflict which j* ^ect them. Not only does this provide °^r a multifaceted exercise, but it gives P ayers experience in dealing with realis- ^{c re}actions from other countries and ,? ^Uces artificiality. In the middle are the reen” forces, or the game controllers. ^ere are military officers—reserve and active.—p]_{us ot}j,_{er ex}p_erts who direct,

, ^ance, and umpire the game. Green ay pervades between and around the ^Ue and Red play, just as it would in the ^VTv! ^rea*'world global hostilities, f he governments of both Red and Blue ces are played by invited guest ex- ^s- Unified and specified commanders ]_g^e Played by assigned Naval War Col- ge students and by members of the Stra- ColT ^^tUC*'^es Group at the Naval War pi ^e8^e- Operational commanders are _ofr^ycd hy Post Command Course (PCC) Red^™ ^ant* l^^aval War College students. „ commanders are played by intelli- _c- ^exPerts from many defense and _ar '^Ian agencies, and Green personnel tech ^ ^ayecl hy reservists, political and partial ^exPerts from the Defense De- dem⁰¹⁶⁰¹’ ^c'^v'l'^an contractors and aca- _UlT) !^{cs> an}d Center for War Gaming P'rcs and analysis personnel.

*n th °^^a. ^^ar Oamc-83 is the final game ^e initial set of five such games. Ex- OWc*^CeS gained during the first four tesi ^S P^rovrded insights into many stra- usual ^C°^ncepts- Following GWG-83, the a cu E°^str8ame analysis was conducted; ga_Ir|^t'^t'^U'^at'^Ve analysis of the entire five- ^{e Se}ries will be prepared.

Among the Blue team’s strategic con­cerns in GWG-83 were:

► Covering all threat axes

► Maintaining maximum posture along the central front in Europe

►  Isolating potential or de facto Red team allies

►  Executing strategic mobility options quickly to ensure reinforcements and re­supply of critical forces and allies

►  Implementing U. S. industrial base production at the earliest time, preferably before hostilities commenced

►  Maintaining rapid and secure sea lines of communication

“We were very successful in reaching these objectives,” reported Captain Mar­shall B. Brisbois, U. S. Navy, director of the Center for War Gaming. “We were able to achieve our objectives related to these concerns.” He indicated, however, that game play was not long enough to determine whether or not efforts to accel­erate industrial base production would have been successful; this issue may be the subject of a future game.

The most important “derived insight” reported by. Captain Brisbois was “the importance of early decisions. The earlier decisions to take positive steps are made, the better off we are going to be later in the process,” he said. These decisions are critical during the crisis phase in order to determine some of the options such as force posturing and mobilization prior to a crisis.

Another important insight is that stra­tegic mobility and logistics sustainability can be decisive factors in a successful resolution of a crisis. This emphasizes the importance of early decisions, early mo-

Navy Secretary John Lehman and Captain Gallotta know that “It isn’t whether you win or lose,” since nei­ther side theoretically wins, “but how you play the (war) game” that counts.

bilization, and the early implementation of reinforcement and resupply plans.

During a global war game, Sims Hall is alive with gaming activity. Virtually all of its spaces are used for game play. At any one time, several hundred game players at countless decision and control centers are involved. Game play is a combination of manual gaming and com­puter-supported play. Major at-sea play in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans is con­ducted on the naval war gaming system computers; land campaigns are conducted at the game tables using computer mod­els. The naval warfare gaming system is the primary means of gaming the war at sea. The primary means of gaming the land war is the McClintic theater model. Manual gaming is conducted using vari­ous charts and maps, including the global navigation series, joint navigation series, and operational navigation series, fur­nished to game participants as needed.

A random slice of just a few of those centers would reveal;

►  In an upstairs room, the “Politburo” is meeting. The Red premier is leading his regular afternoon discussion about what is happening at this stage of the conflict. Both positive and negative events are being reviewed, with discussion focused on how Red forces can exploit areas of perceived Blue weaknesses.

►  At another end of the rambling Sims Hall, in the Blue government spaces, the

107

“Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff” and his team are translating the political decisions made by the acting U. S. “President” (meeting with the “National Security Council” several tables away) into military actions taken by the “com­manders-in-chief” of the various Blue unified and specified commands.

►  Meanwhile, on the game floor of the Nott Auditorium, another team is plotting air strikes on various central and southern European targets.

►  A few feet away, at the Blue central region table, team members are trying to stem the advance of the Red second eche­lon. This team is keeping track of the air war which is seesawing across Europe.

►  At the Red forces European theater of military operations table, game partici­pants are.tracking Red’s progress on the central front.

►  In the Green team spaces, military and civilian agency representatives are as­sessing developments affecting Third World and nonaligned nations, focusing for the moment on those located in the Pacific theater as seen through the eyes of various nations involved in the hostilities there. Other team members are preparing messages to both Red and Blue from gov­ernments in Asia, South America, and Europe.

►  In the computerized game control spaces, Green controllers sit hunched in­tently in front of screens filled with glow­ing, flashing information on various as­pects of the air and maritime conflicts.

►  Nearby, at the Pacific submarine table, players monitor and engage targets in the western Pacific.

►  In another comer of the control room, a team tracks and maneuvers all Red forces conducting the war in the Pacific.

Lessons learned in the four previous global strategy games were combined to create the foundation for this game. For example, logistic considerations played a major role in GWG-83. As Captain Bris- bois explained:

“By tracking certain specific essential stocks, we get a better feel for the sus­tainability of forces and of our ability to fight a longer war with conven­tional weapons. Global conflict will not necessarily lead immediately to the use of nuclear weapons, if at all. The United States must be prepared to fight and win a conventional war.”

Captain Richard A. Gallotta, U. S. Navy, Director of Operations, Navy Cen­ter for War Gaming, added his insight:

“We are not primarily interested in testing tactics, of the specific effec­tiveness of weapons systems or force engagements. The primary mission of the global war game series is to re­search and explore the effectiveness of naval forces in a global conflict, and to analyze the combinations and contributions of U. S. and allied naval forces in implementing a global war strategy. A global war game as played at the War Gaming Center of the Naval War College is an interrelated set of theater conflicts—European, Pacific, etc.—all being played out on the game floor simultaneously.”

Players draw a general comparison to World War II when the United States and its Allies were simultaneously engaged in Europe, North Africa, Indo-China, and the Pacific. “The principles of war do not change,” explained Lieutenant Colonel O.E. “Bud” Hay, U. S. Marine Corps, player in all five global war games. “Lessons from the past, particularly those learned during World War I and World War II, provide a general frame­work for reference during global war gaming,” he said. This does not mean, however, that the global war game reen­acts the past and fights the last war all over again. “In many ways,” Captain Gallotta explained, “the execution of a maritime strategy—the contributions that maritime forces can make—has not changed conceptually in hundreds of years. The potential enemy is still located across the seas from us.”

“The majority of the important things we learn from these games are not gener­ated by the computer,” said Captain Robert J. Naughton, U. S. Navy, game analysis chief at the Center for War Gam­ing. “The ideas and strategic options that surface within a game come out of the minds of the men and women who partic­ipate,” he said. An important measure of the game’s effectiveness is the reaction by Red players to Blue initiatives. “Therefore, we get credible Red players to provide that realistic challenge,” Cap­tain Naughton said.

The global war game is the only setting in which all of the factors that impact on strategies needed to defeat the enemy are looked at simultaneously and realistic­ally. These include logistics, interservice cooperation, Navy aid to forces engaged in land battles, and how allied naval forces around the world can work more effectively together. “The significance lies in the fact that all of these are exam­ined carefully and in great detail to gain insights and ideas into the best ways to use all our naval forces, including the marine forces,” Captain Gallotta said.

While who wins or loses a war game is a consideration, it is not the most impor­tant consideration, since neither side the­oretically wins a war game. Other things are being tested, including gaining criti­cal insights into the use of military re­sources, including the use of sea power. In fact, “if a choice of a strategy doesn’t work and Blue loses, in the long run the United States is better off for having that loss take place in a war game. It’s a risk­free loss,” Gallota explained.

Professor Thomas Etzold, member of the Naval War College’s faculty, added that “it is easy to see that it is not in our interest to have a short, disastrous war— a quick defeat of some kind. The Center for Naval Warfare Studies has a responsi­bility to think about how to fight success­ful war whether or not the nuclear weap­ons issue is advanced.” Strategic planners at Newport agree: the United States must be able to fight what may be a protracted, conventional war. The levels of some conventional war stocks, how­ever, have some authorities worried about whether the United States could do this under some conditions.

Dr. Etzold pointed out:

“There is a permanent dilemma built into this issue. We certainly need to invest in the munitions and consum­ables which would be used in any pe­riod of hostilities. The evidence we have had out of the Falklands and the Middle East all indicated that the con­sumptions of ordnance and consum­ables will be sudden and rapid. On the other hand, you need to spend as much as possible on the systems themselves, those that will help you get out ahead of the adversary in terms of technical advantage, or get you into the next generation of weapons sys­tems. There is no way of ever really solving that dilemma.”

The future of the global war game has exciting prospects for the Center for War Gaming, which considers it the center­piece of its annual calendar of about 30 games.

Editor’s Note: The October Proceed­ings (Special Issue on Education and Training) featured an interview with Rob­ert J. Murray, the first director of the Naval War College’s Center for Naval Warfare Studies. Mr. Murray provided further insights into war gaming; see "A War-fighting Perspective,” pp. 66-81 ■

Lieutenant Commander Connors served on active duty with the U. S. Navy from 1957 to 1969, rising in rank from airman recruit to lieutenant. As a reserv­ist, he is the executive officer of Public Affairs Cen­ter Detachment 106 in Norfolk, Virginia. Currently* he is the Washington, D.C., manager for the defense electronics division of Gould, Inc.

Getting the Big Picture into Our CICs

^fiy Lieutenant Peter M. Grant, U. S. Navy

Centralized control of a ship’s combat ^system assets enhances the capacity to conduct coordinated, modem warfare at ^sea- The shipbome combat system uses vast amounts of information to control and coordinate the ship’s weapons and sensors. The display of this information requires augmentation by large-screen summary displays; their use would be r^nch more effective if they interfaced 'rectly with the tactical computers proc­essing combat information.

The last 30 years of warfare develop­ment have seen the increased use of digi- 1 computers in an effort to extend man’s ^a ’Ijty to process combat system infor­mation. Great advances have been made jn the development of command and con- rol doctrines which help in the decision­making processes during a battle. As this f^rea has developed, an increased burden as been placed on the combat informa- •on center (C1C) to correlate and dissem- ^lnate information. CIC has, too fre­quently, seen a proliferation of watch unders and complex equipment to cope •m these added burdens. The Navy is moving to replace plexiglass status ^0ards and summary plots on board each operational ship with computer-driven, ^^rge-screen displays. The coordination activities using large-screen summary *^splays is far more efficient than through ^e use of individual consoles. This is specially true when that coordination is anneled through a computer.

. he commanding officer and the tacti- and^aCt*°ⁿ °^"^lcer (TAO) must have rapid complete access to tactical informa- on, decisions as to which threat to en- * ^whh what weapon system must te .^^{e ma}de within seconds. Current ^c niq_{Ues use(}j _tQ p_resent ttic tactical ^c are to the TAO do not meet his re- th '^reJ^nents- Current research has shown tact' ^ar2^e'^screen displays interfaced to tion'^Ca* ^^{ata com}Puters may be a solu- the*^{1 com}*^3at information center of Pla ^near ^.^{Uture w}’ii have large-screen dis- the^ ^Wh'^ch P^resent a real-time picture of to ^a?^l'^ca' situation, allowing the TAO pn, • ^rapid decisions in a high-threat

en^onment.

com^⁶            i"'^rst defined a need for a

l9gj^5uter'driven large-screen display in _CU]_t- ' ^fter years of false starts and diffi- ^cati'^eS '^{n meetm}g the demanding specifi­er u^{nS reC}*^U'^re(* of equipment destined p_ra Se 'ⁿ a marine environment, the first liver h *^ar8^e~^screen displays were de­^ed to selected fleet units in 1970.

These displays interfaced directly to a digital computer and were capable of dis­playing digital readout alphanumerics, Navy tactical data system (NTDS) sym­bology, and charts or maps. But they did not receive wide fleet use because of a ten- to 15-second persistence rate of dy­namic data. However, these displays did mark the beginning of a virtual explosion of interest in large-screen technology.

Research into the large-screen display field can be divided into two separate areas: active media and passive media. In active media, emitted light generates the display of information. In passive media, ambient light produces the display; the hardware merely acts as a “light valve” to pass the desired information. This medium acts very much like the human optical sensor system in that the observer reacts to the display as if he is looking into the screen rather than looking at it.

During the years between World War II and today, the Navy tactical data system has become the backbone of the fleet’s combat direction system. This system was designed to relieve the console oper­ators of the more tedious tasks involved with search and detection, while allowing more time to be spent in target tracking and weapon acquisition. However, the human side of the NTDS interface has been mired by the administrative tasks of computer control. Information required to maintain summary plots and status boards is passed verbally via sound-pow­ered headsets. Watch standers become rapidly saturated with information when passing tasks. This can cause a watch stander to miss important information and, in the extreme case, not allow the TAO to spend adequate time evaluating the overall tactical situation. The current fleet standard display console is the digi­tal AN/UYA-4; it has no provision for automatic updating of large-screen sum­mary displays.

The 1970s saw much effort put into the development of a computer-driven, large-screen display. Researchers at the Naval Ocean Systems Center (NOSC) in San Diego, California, played a major role in the Navy’s research studies in this area. NOSC has led the field in the area

RCA

The U. S. Navy’s Aegis-equipped Ticonderoga-c&m cruisers use com­puter-driven large-screen displays to provide tactical action officers with rapid and complete information that modern warfare requires. The old status boards with their duty plotters are on the way out.

Un

of liquid-crystal light valve (LCLV) ap­plications to large-screen displays. In partnership with Hughes Aircraft Com­pany, they demonstrated the ability to project a multicolored image onto a large-screen display in 1971. Liquid- crystal display technology offers several

potential advantages over cathode ray tube (CRT) display media; these include the ability to observe information in high ambient light, lower weight, less space, and lower power consumption. John Marez and I. Perry Nerenberg describe the unit in their 1977 report to NOSC, “Multicolor Liquid-Crystal Light Valve:”

“[The display projection unit] accepts computer-processed information and projects a dynamic picture on a large screen for command and group view­ing. The unit consists of a write CRT, liquid-crystal light valve, xenon pro­jection lamp, polarization cube, map/ chart slide unit, projection lens, and other optical components .... [The] result is a display image of vivid yel- low/white and other color symbology on a full-color map or chart back­ground.”

The LCLV uses twisted-nematic field effect (TNFE) technology. This technol­ogy generates a display that is acceptable for viewing under ambient light. Such viewing would allow CIC personnel to stand watch in a lighted environment and eliminate the physiological stresses brought on by working in a darkened space. LCLV power requirements are low. The device does require the use of a polarizer to properly orient the data stream through the projection lens; this produces a reduced viewing angle. Marez and Nerenberg report that operational test results of the TNFE liquid-crystal light valve devices during display of dynamic symbology successfully demonstrated an application for use in shipboard com­mand and control centers.

The first liquid-crystal large-screen displays (LCLSD) were delivered to the fleet in 1982. This display device, desig­nated AN/UYA-PT525 by the Navy, is a subset of the AN/UYQ-21 display system (the replacement for the AN/UYA-4). The LCLSD is a Navy tactical data sys­tem large-screen display modified to op­erate with photo-activated, field-effect, liquid-crystal light valve devices. The LCLSD projects and displays computer- controlled dynamic information in multi­color symbology. The AN/UYA-PT525 has a large display with an area of more than one square meter. The unit is de­signed for installation on all fleet combat­ant and command ships. The first proto­type installation occurred at the Aegis combat system engineering development site in Moorestown, New Jersey.

The individual console operator will have his display supplemented by the central large-screen display. In this way, the TAO will be able to keep the total tactical picture in focus while updates to the LCLSD are made automatically through its NTDS interface. Sound-pow­ered headset communications to sum­mary plot and status board watch standers will not be required. These watch standers will be freed for other duties.

The AN/UYQ-21 display system is an outgrowth of the Navy’s need for a soft­ware-controllable display set which can interface with myriad weapon and sensor systems in use by the fleet. The system is designed to provide both sensor data dis­play (acoustic, radar, television, and electronic warfare) and computer data display (tactical symbology, graphics, and English-like descriptors) in a wide variety of operational formats. As de­scribed by Commander D. L. Leichtweis, U. S. Navy, and C. J. Bedore in their January-February 1977 Surface Warfare article, the AN/UYQ-21 data display sys­tem “consists of various configurations of consoles, large-screen displays, auto­mated status boards, remote communica­tion stations, remote data readouts (DRO’s), remote keysets and other asso­ciated equipment.”

This system has many features which upgrade CIC functions. An enhancement to the system would be a casualty mode which continued to display tactical infor­mation. In the event of a computer mal­function, the NTDS system is useless to the ship. The inclusion of an interface to the large-screen display of raw radar video, which could be selected for dis­play in the event of a casualty to NTDS, would give the ship quick access to a manual operation mode. The large-screen display could then augment radar repeat­ers for target acquisition. The TAO would still have an ability to focus on the tactical picture, and a smoother transition from NTDS to manual operations could be effected.

The introduction of the AN/UYA- PT525 to the fleet will mark a major milestone in our effort to upgrade our tac­tical abilities to fight a war at sea. How­ever, tradeoffs had to be made in the de­sign of this system which could affect its capabilities. These tradeoffs include the continued use of a high-voltage green phosphor CRT for the writing of dynamic information, the use of fragile optics for display projection, and the use of a xenon lamp to provide contrast to the displayed image. The high voltage required by the CRT and the explosive nature of the xenon lamp present safety hazards to per­sonnel. The optics used in the device present a difficult problem in survivabil­ity from blast shock. For these reasons, further research into the area of flat panel solid-state technology is required.

Recent developments in the technology of flat panel displays have shown the fea­sibility of building a flat-screen televi­sion. The CRT is severely limited in its ability to perform in a military environ­ment because its display washes out under ambient light (e.g., on the bridge of a destroyer). An inherent property of the CRT is the large voltage required to drive its electronic gun. This property poses an obvious safety hazard for use on board steel warships in a marine environ­ment. When used in a large-screen con­figuration, the CRT’s maximum diagonal dimension is limited by a peripheral reg­istry problem; the deflection angles in the scanning beam are limited to about 110°. A goal of display researchers is to find a feasible replacement for the CRT.

Several technologies offer promising alternatives to the CRT. At present, a real-time video display projection con­cept poses problems of extreme complex­ity, high cost, and component fragility; this includes the AN/UYA-PT525. Cur­rent research into flat panel display sys­tems include: electroluminescent phos­phor displays, gas electron phosphor displays, and liquid-crystal flat panel dis­plays. The technology is attractive be­cause of its ease of fabrication. It does, however, require the use of high-voltage power—one disadvantage of the CRT.

Gas electron technology is being de­veloped by the Naval Ocean Systems Center in partnership with industry. Gas electron displays are a hybrid plasma technology. The CRT electron gun is re­placed with a plasma display which be­comes the electron source that excites the phosphor-coated display tube. The first prototype unit was delivered to NOSC in early 1982 for test and evaluation.

Liquid-crystal flat panel displays have the unique capability of being operated in the dynamic scattering mode. This means that they can be viewed under ambient light. This property of the liquid-crystal device satisfies a clear-cut military need. Liquid-crystal flat panel research is being conducted primarily by the U. S. Air Force for application in cockpit instru­mentation. The presence of high-intensity ambient light in a cockpit makes this type of technology very desirable. Other liq^­uid-crystal flat panel characteristics, such as reflective nature, low weight, small volume, and low power requirements, make it an ideal technology for use in combatant ships. The main stumbling block to overcome in this technology is addressing the large number of array ma­trix elements which would be required for a large-screen display. Experiments with a six-inch-square display, using field ef­fect transistors to address a 12,000-ele- ment array, have had good results. Using the six-inch display in a modular fashion, ’1 is thought that a large screen could be devised for the display of large-scale summary information.

The joining together of men and equip­ment operating in a ship’s CIC has come to be viewed as a collection of sensor, weapon, and communication systems that must “somehow” work together. The automation of some of the routine func­tions required by watch standers in CIC trees them for the more important func­tion of decision making. In modem com­bat, there is little time to make the deci­sions which may dictate the outcome of a battle. Through the judicious use of com­puter-controlled displays, working in harmony with their human counterparts, an increased amount of control over the direction of the action will ensue. The presence of a computer-controlled, large-screen display working together with a CIC watch team becomes, in ef­fect, a symbiotic relationship. This rela­tionship will be of great benefit to the

Navy as it enters an era of reduced man­ning, coupled with ever greater global commitments.

Lieutenant Grant, a 1976 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, has attended the weapon systems engi­neering curriculum at the Naval Postgraduate School and the department head course at Surface Warfare Officers School. He co-authored an article with Lieu­tenant Robert Riche, “The Eagle’s Own Plume,” which was published in the July 1983 Proceedings. Currently, he is the weapons officer on board the USS Henry' B. Wilson (DDG-7).

jjie Coast Guard Auxiliary

^BV William G. Key

The U. S. Coast Guard Auxiliary jUSCGA) is a civilian organization; yet it ^ls uniformed, well disciplined, and re­sponsive to Coast Guard orders. Auxil- ^lary vessels are privately owned and pri­vately equipped, yet are stipulated by law |o be government vessels when under Goast Guard orders. When carrying Goast Guard officers, auxiliary boats fly ue Coast Guard ensign. Otherwise, the °ats will fly the Auxiliary’s blue ensign. Kadio equipment is licensed by the Fed- ^cral Communications Commission, but when operated in the Coast Guard Auxil- lary environment, it comes under direct government control. The Auxiliary can ^Undertake any Coast Guard mission Within the capacity of its members or Gfupment with but a single exception: it °cs not carry out any law enforcement activities and is enjoined from such mis­

■0*81

sions under current legislation.

The Auxiliary comprises the world’s most numerous aggregation of specialists in small boat operations outside the Coast Guard, which it equals in numbers. These specialists include qualified communica­tions personnel, trained instructors, and vessel examiners—all prepared to oper­ate in a military-oriented framework of command if necessary. The Auxiliary is a little-known, volunteer reserve force of inestimable value. Because it exists, the nation can contemplate using facilities and manpower of the regular Coast Guard for mine countermeasures and other naval requirements on relatively short notice.

The feasibility of such a redeployment of manpower and facilities rises from the current emphasis of the Auxiliary on up­grading its membership qualifications and facilities. The sinking of the Coast

Guard cutter Blackthorn (WLB-391) in 1980 after a collision in Tampa Bay, Florida, and other incidents requiring emergency assistance have demonstrated that the Auxiliary can and will respond quickly and effectively. They also dem­onstrated, however, that skills and proce­dures not regularly exercised can lead to human “rustiness.” This led first to the program devised by USCGA officers in southwest Florida to recertify captains and crews in their basic skills, and to as­sure maintenance of vessel equipment to strict standards. Paralleling this certifica­tion program has been the preparation of an Auxiliary Small Boat Manual designed to become the bible of the certification program as it “goes national.” Now be­coming standard in the Seventh District, and projected for all sections of the coun­try, the program will be expanded to in­clude familiarization with the new navi­gation rules and will provide a cadre of trained instructors and vessel operators.

Created in 1939 as the Coast Guard Reserve, the Auxiliary currently lists about 44,000 members, 9,350 vessels, 190 aircraft, and 1,350 land-based radio stations (mostly very high frequency) among its assets. When the Coast Guard Reserve was mobilized in 1941, the civil­ian, non-military component was recon­stituted as the Coast Guard Auxiliary. Throughout the war, the Auxiliary used private vessels for coastal and harbor pa­trol and for the rescue of seamen from disabled or torpedoed ships in coastal water. This tradition has been expanded

One task carried out by the low-profile but highly capable Coast Guard Auxil­iary is water safety inspection; about

300,0                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           private boats will be inspected this year.

to include boating education courses for the public and safety inspections of civil­ian watercraft.

The Auxiliary’s organization parallels that of the regular Coast Guard. It oper­ates in districts corresponding to Coast Guard and Naval districts. At the national level, it is headed by a national Commo­dore and Vice Commodore, who reports to the Commandant of the Coast Guard through a Chief Director of Auxiliary (customarily the rank of captain). The field organization is guided by national rear commodores for eastern, central, and western areas. Activities in each district are directed by district commodores, each with vice and regional rear commodores. Conforming to the national level, each district has a Director of Auxiliary (DirAux) whose rank may be from lieu­tenant to captain. It is these DirAux offi­cers and staff who provide liaison be­tween the Coast Guard and the Auxiliary with their support functions. Within dis­tricts, the Auxiliary structure is divided into divisions roughly corresponding to Coast Guard station areas. Each division is headed by a division captain who is responsible for the activities of local flo­tillas, which may number from five to nine. Each level is parallel-staffed for operating efficiency.

It should be noted that Auxiliary offi­cers at flotilla command level and above are elected—not appointed—although a certain element of selection inevitably is present, necessarily, and effective. Staff officers at all levels are appointed. While Auxiliary officers hold rank, they do not command. Nonetheless, the Auxiliary conducts intensive courses in leadership and management for selected members.

The basic unit is the flotilla. Each may number from 20 members to more than 100, although 30 is considered to be the minimum effective number. The flotilla’s world may be that of an ocean, a gulf, bay, river, or lake. Its land world may be that of a metropolis or a village. Its ves­sels may be of world-ranging capabilities or a 12-foot backwater skiff. Its skippers may be ocean operator-qualified or fish­erman-wise in the lore of woodland streams. It may have radio operators who still intone “over and out” or those who are qualified to serve as regular watch standers at Coast Guard stations.

The flotilla is managed by a flotilla commander, who is aided by a vice com­mander. Six staff officer appointments are mandatory: membership training, public education, vessel examination, operations, growth and retention, and public affairs. Optional officer appoint­ments are publications, secretary records, finance, communications, career candi­date, information systems, aids to navi­gation, and materials. In smaller flotillas, one person may fill several billets. This staffing structure extends to division, dis­trict, and national levels, with a tendency to expand “assistant” staffing to bureau­cratic dimensions at higher levels.

The mandatory positions illustrate the emphasis of the Auxiliary. Their impor­tance and influence will vary with local conditions, strengths, and abilities of appointed officers, and inclinations of flotilla commanders. Growth and reten­tion is emphasized increasingly, since the Auxiliary has many of the same recruit­ing problems that confront the armed ser­vices. An added complication is that there are no enlistment terms or officer- service requirements—and the monthly paycheck is denominated in “satisfac­tion” rather than dollars. Public affairs officer is a relatively new addition to the mandatory list, and its importance has yet to be completely comprehended. At the national level, public affairs encompass internal and external publications, liaison with industry groups, photography, com­munity relations, and media relations. Such extensive parameters are not yet common at lower echelons of command.

The influence of the Auxiliary’s public education courses on the safety of boating is difficult to measure. Annually, more than 500,000 civilians participate in six- or 13-lesson basic courses, supplemented recently with a new 12-lesson piloting course. A possible clue to the impact of this activity is that the national rate of boating accidents has been declining.

A major part of Auxiliary membership is recruited from these classes. Graduates are selectively invited to receive ad­vanced primary indoctrination and train­ing in Coast Guard Auxiliary history, organization, and operations. Before ac­ceptance and enrollment into the Auxil­iary, prospective members are required to demonstrate practical applications of their training.

Membership training is continuous; courses are available in advanced sea­manship, Coast Guard procedures, and weather, as well as many other subjects. In addition, some 200 correspondence courses available from the Coast Guard Institute are now offered to Auxiliary members.

Vessel examination is a nonpunitive program in which auxiliarists check boats for required safety equipment. Some

300,0            boats are inspected each year, of which only 50% will have been found fully qualified to receive an Auxiliary decal. Inspection reports are made for statistical purposes without identifying the vessel owners, but auxiliarists en­courage owners and operators to correct safety deficiencies that are noted.

Operations is the area of primary inter­est to many auxiliarists. In the south, this is a year-round activity, and in some areas, 70% of all search and rescue oper­ations will be conducted with Auxiliary vessels and crews. Such operations are perhaps the single most cost-effective activity of the federal government, aver­aging $15 an hour (fuel cost) versus the $150-an-hour price of a Coast Guard ves­sel. Normally restricted to coastal areas and inland waters, under extreme condi­tions Auxiliary vessels have been des­patched as far as 75 miles offshore to as­sist vessels in distress. In addition to search and rescue, Auxiliary vessels per­form weekend '^jnd holiday safety patrols, sweep heavily used areas for vessels in distress, stand regatta patrols for channel viewer traffic, check aids to navigation, transport Coast Guard personnel, and are called upon for specialized crowd control missions, e.g., the waterborne observers at space shuttle launches. More than 150 auxiliarists have been on duty at shuttle launches; a powerboat race may require as many as 35 Auxiliary vessels, manned by more than 100 members.

What motivates the volunteers to per­form such time-consuming duties, which are sometimes dangerous and often re­quire a great deal of patience? Perhaps the single most striking characteristic of Auxiliary members is that a high percent­age of them wear prior-service decora­tions on their uniforms. Having already served their country officially, they choose to serve unofficially. Prior-ser­vice decorations take precedence over Auxiliary ribbons, which in turn take precedence over foreign decorations- Recently one flotilla numbered among its members two U. S. Air Force generals, a U. S. Army general, and five Air Force colonels (all. retired)—plus a torpedo boat skipper who fought in the Pacific theater from Guadalcanal to SurigaO Strait. Several flotillas boast retired Coast Guard or Navy admirals, as well as other ranks. Since regular Coast Guard officers and enlisted personnel are also eligible for Auxiliary membership, the U. S- Coast Guard Auxiliary is one of the most diverse—and experienced—sea services in the world.

Mr. Key was an associate editor of Aviation Ne^^s (1943-46) and editor of The Pegasus (1949-56). Iⁿ 1956-57, he served as the administrative and press advisor to then-Vice President Richard M. Nixon. H^e founded, served as vice president, and later as mafl' aging director of the International Club of Washing' ton. Currently, he is the division captain of the 7th Coast Guard District, Division IX, U. S. Coast Guard Auxiliary.

correct

Barging Into the Fleet

ry inter- uth, this n some Lie oper- uxiliary ions are :ffective it, aver- rsus the ard ves- :al areas e condi- :en des- re to as- lition to sels per- patrols, ;ssels in channel dgation, and are i control bservers :han 150 t shuttle r require manned

s to per- s, which iften re­Perhaps ;ristic of percent- decora- already y, they

’rior-ser-

tce over urn take orations-

mong its nerals, ® dr Force torpedo

; Pacific Surigao ed Coast as other I officers eligible : U. S- the most services

a lion Nevd >49-56). 1“ ; and press Nixon. W ter as man- if Washing' i of the 7th . S. Coast

merchant barges can be turned into platforms that will support a ^ety of U. S. Navy missions in war or peace.

Oy Lieutenant Commander John J. Baucom, l

Large seaworthy              platforms—sea-

gotng general cargo barges, enclosed Warehouse barges, and roll-on/roll-off : ^0/Lo) barges—are plying the world’s fade routes; yet their potential military and naval applications have been essen- tally ignored. The Arapaho project,* which used a towed 610-foot merchant ^UH for a recent test, shows that a vessel nan conduct air operations while under °w. So why not extend such operations ^t0 our barge fleet?

I Antisubmarine Warfare (ASW): With a ?^r8^e’ open, relatively stable deck area, ^e towed cargo barge could become an ^eal ASW platform along our coastal fade routes. Because of the barge’s low I ydrodynamic profile, shallow draft, and ack of machinery, little noise is gener- ^ed in the water. These characteristics nj^ake the towed barge well suited to em- P °y passive and active sonars. We could ^evelop Ro/Ro trailers with towed sonar .ays for deployment on board flat-deck ^arges. Naval reservists and Coast nardsmen could use these assets, when ₍^ugmented with support trailers, for anting. An advantage of this arrange- ^ent is that little of the barge’s cargo

*p₀     .

Q,_R^{r a}dditional information on this subject, see G. ]oo-?^Urk^e'^s “What’s in Store for Arapaho?” July Proceedings, pp. 117-119.

S. Naval Reserve space is required. So in a coordinated plan, a shipping company can still pursue capital gain, while the military sector gets hands-on training with sonar gear. Time­wise, this is also advantageous, since most coastal trade platforms are at sea no more than five days at a time.

Helicopter Operations:   Helicopter

operations are conducted regularly on board most U. S. Navy destroyers, frig­ates, and guided missile frigates. With the deck area of some barges approaching

60,0           square feet, it would be relatively easy to launch and recover several heli­copters in any reasonable sea state, with plenty of room for fueling facilities and hangars. These helos could either con­duct ASW operations or transport the barge’s cargo.

VISTOL Operations: For normal verti­cal or short takeoff and landing (V/STOL) operations, there is a mini­mum area requirement for roll-on recov­eries for system malfunction and emer­gencies: about 120 by 450 feet. A 500-foot deck run will approximately double the range/payload of a V/STOL aircraft compared with vertical takeoff. A flight deck can be fashioned on multiple- deck cargo barges. On most Ro/Ro barges, securing devices are collapsible and make it possible to lav a prefabri­cated-type deck (with aircraft hold­downs) which will not affect the barge’s stability; this is possible with interlocking aluminum mats.

The dispersion of air-capable platforms will be an important “plus” in future warfare. Increasing numbers of sea-based aircraft are becoming sensor carriers rather than weapons delivery platforms. The implication is that an aircraft basing structure need not be highly centralized; in fact, a dispersed basing structure would be more effective. The sea-going barge provides an additional air-capable platform for helicopters and vertical or short takeoff and landing aircraft.

Logistic Support: Currently, the only military logistic support that oceangoing barges perform is in the Caribbean Sea, where—under Military Sealift Command charter—they supply missile-tracking stations and the acoustic research station in the Bahamas, and the naval facilities at Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico, and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The barges also make excellent air-capable depot plat­forms. In this configuration, they can be prepositioned for various missions and activated when needed. Another advan­tage of ocean barges is their draft. Small harbors which are inaccessible to large ships can be easily entered by tugs and barges, allowing the delivery of heavy machinery and standard cargo items.

The current economic slump, coupled with the reduction in steaming time for Navy ships, warrant a serious look into the use of our merchant barge assets. Schedules could be worked out to comply with the host company’s shipping plan and avoid the necessity of having to char­ter an entire vessel. With the success of Arapaho’s containerized hardware sup­port, the Navy can gain precious training facilities without significantly degrading a barge’s cargo capacity. It is unfortunate that Arapaho has been prematurely placed on the back burner since—more than ever—we need to use all available assets in countering the Soviet naval buildup.

The barge concept is cheap, uses exist­ing assets, and is workable. Such a pro­gram would be good for our maritime defense and benefit the U. S. shipping industry as well.

Lieutenant Commander Baucom earned a B.S. in nautical science from the California Maritime Acad­emy in 1972. He is a licensed master of freight and towing vessels, and is currently employed as a chief mate by Crowley Maritime Corporation.