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By Rear Admiral Dave Oliver, U.S. Navy
Once upon a time, in one of our fleets, all of the ships, submarines and most of the airplanes were dispatched to search for a three-star admiral who had reportedly gone down with all hands on board one of our nuclear submarines. Everyone who could possibly help was scrambled to look for survivors.
Fortunately, no submarine had actually been sunk, and the admiral was fast asleep in the best bunk on board the submarine. Unfortunately, all of the Navy
Any submarine commander worth his salt can fight his boat unaided, from behind the attack periscope.
But key crew members will not grow or respect his leadership if they can’t work the problem themselves.
had been officially told that the admiral, as well as the submarine in which he was sleeping, was lost. When he woke up, he was very, very embarrassed. In addition, all sailors on the coast had been called out of their homes and warm beds and back to their submarines, ships, and airplanes to look for this admiral and his submarine. When this effort turned out to be unnecessary, all of the sailors were also very unhappy.
This incident occurred several years ago, before satellites made communications to and from submarines so much easier. At the time of the story, submarines had a great deal of difficulty talking with anyone—especially with each other. Given the options available, many submarines routinely communicated by
means of an underwater telephone.
This is a similar experience to talking to Hong Kong on one of those cheap telephones you got for answering an advertisement for a magazine. In the water, sound bounces first off fish and then is slowed by kelp and bends with changes in temperature and salt content. It arrives at your ear as only a ragged shadow of its former self. This tortuous route is not the only path sound can take, and the same words also often arrive as faint wavering echoes, after bouncing off the surface of the water or the rocks on the bottom of the ocean. The delayed echoes add to the garble of an already almost unrecognizable voice.
There are good days, but most of the time the speaker might as well be on Mars. You try to use people who enunciate clearly, and you try to keep all messages simple. Although people do get better with practice, it is never easy to communicate with the underwater telephone.
So there we were that day, our submarine acting as the bad guy and the other, the good guy. The three-star admiral was on the other ship. (In the submarine force, the admirals and other senior officers routinely ride different submarines for a day or two to determine how things are going.) The training we were doing required us periodically to meet the other submarine at specified points in the ocean to restart the problem. The other ship decided to change the geometry for the next phase of the exercise, so she pulled up beside us underwater and directed us to stand by to receive a three-part underwater telephone message.
The officer of the deck pulled out a pen and notepad and stood by to copy. Picking up the underwater telephone handset, he reported that he was ready. The other ship passed the first part of the message. The officer of the deck carefully listened and wrote down each word he heard. Two other officers, passing by, heard the incoming transmission and realized that communications were going to be difficult that day. They also grabbed pieces of
Paper, took positions close by the loudspeaker, began listening intently, and started writing. So far, so good.
Helping out in deciphering underwater Messages is standard procedure. Some People hear higher frequencies with great 'delity and others hear low frequencies so at the end of the transmission they compare notes.
Normally, that is. In this case the com- ftanding officer was a very impatient I1131!. He was also very sensitive to the atage he presented to his seniors. He was Very sensitive to the fact that the three- star admiral was on the other ship and fight hear our replies.
When the transmission was over ' Whiskey Papa, this is Oscar Sierra, ijand by for message in three parts, oreak. This is part one. Break. Intend to a|ter tie point for next event, over”), the officer of the deck looked at the other two officers and said, “What did you guys get?”
The commanding officer snatched the handset away from the young officer and sP°ke clearly into it. “Oscar Sierra, this ls Whiskey Papa, roger part one, over.” Roger” means “I have heard and understood,” so the commanding officer was telling the other ship we had heard and understood what they had sent in the first part of the message. “Over” means "e Was through talking and the other ship c°uld transmit some more without stepping on our lines.
After the commanding officer had sent that message in a very clear, articulate v°ice, which probably sounded very commanding when broadcast from the 'oudspeaker in the control room of the other ship, he took the handset away from his mouth (he did not hand the microphone back to the officer of the deck), and said to his officers, “What did you guys get?”
The three officers, who had compared notes by this time, showed him what they had agreed part one had said. Meanwhile, [he commanding officer’s “roger” and
over” had traveled through the water to the other ship at about 823 yards per second, and the other ship had begun transmitting part two, which gave us the time for the next event and the latitude of the new rendezvous point. The instant the
‘over” from the other ship warbled into °ur control room from its perilous journey through the water, the commanding officer brought the underwater telephone handset back up to his lips and said, "This is Whiskey Papa, roger part two, over,” in a very deep, measured, commanding voice. Then he turned to his officers and said, “I didn’t quite get all that, did you?”
The latter, who were scurrying as best they could, showed him what they each had, and he nodded his approval. So far it looked like they had understood every word.
Both submarines were still moving while they were talking. So they were passing into and through water with different characteristics, different numbers of fish, and different amounts of salt. Submarines at sea are always moving relative to each other. One may be slowly moving up toward the bow of the other, from where it is easier to hear, or, alternatively, sliding back toward the stem from where it is not so easy. There are any number of reasons for a change in acoustic conditions, even during a relatively short conversation. In fact, change is the only constant at sea.
When the third part of the three-part message came over, the commanding officer, as before, acknowledged: “This is Whiskey Papa, roger, out.”
“Out” means that the transmission is over. It certainly would have been better if the commanding officer had said something like “Roger, wait,” which means “hold it for a minute, I’m thinking.” If he hadn’t said anything until he knew that one of his officers had actually heard the message, that also would have been okay. But he wanted to appear commanding and decisive. “Out” says “we’ve got it.”
Then the commanding officer put the handset down and turned to his officers and asked what the third part of the message had said. Unfortunately, none of them had quite heard it. The commanding officer frantically picked up the handset and tried to raise the other submarine but our opponent had already turned away and beat feet. It was nowhere to be found.
There are quite a few possible meeting places along the 36,000 miles of one particular ocean latitude, and we did not know the longitude. Also, the instructions for the exercise specified that if either ship did not have contact with the other for many hours, the first submarine should report the other as missing.
We didn’t know where they were. We couldn’t find them. Ergo, they must be lost. After the specified number of hours we reported that status and then surfaced to take charge and coordinate the rescue operation.
It got a little more absurd, but the point has been made. Within a day the situation was unsnarled and the airplanes and ships were permitted to return to their home ports.
Leading people is a fascinating profession. It captures our attention in much the same way a professional baseball game does—those who truly understand the game realize that even the most elementary play is much more difficult than it appears when performed at the professional level.
Leadership is the same. When practiced at the professional level that is required on board submarines, it is both subtle and difficult. Have you ever watched one team, or ship, or group succeed again and again when others never do? The best leaders truly have the ability to take theirs and beat yours. Then they can trade, and take yours and beat theirs.
One of the most important characteristics of good leaders is awareness of and sensitivity to the thoughts and feelings of the people working with them. Good leaders, whether or not they show it or are even aware of their own attentiveness, constantly sense the emotions and thoughts of their people. They know, even before the individuals do, which emotional chemicals are at any moment coursing through their bodies.
Good leaders do not necessarily change their goals based on the emotions of the moment or day, but they adjust what is being done to harmonize and harness not only the group’s total physical and mental effort, but also its thoughts and emotions.
The exceptional leader does this unthinkingly. I do not know whether or not one can learn to be a great leader. Some men and women lead so effortlessly that it seems implausible that leadership is wholly a learned skill. But I do hope that it can be learned; 1 know it can be improved.
Above all, a good leader is patient. This is not to say that you always refrain from letting a particular failure result in an emotional experience when there is something particularly important you want someone never, never to forget. For the very critical issues, you could even figuratively cut someone’s throat in public in order to define, much more clearly than 100 memos, which principles and level of performance you hold sacrosanct. A good leader does not always have to be polite.
But you take every opportunity to train your people. One of the best ways to achieve this is to let them have the experience of taking charge when less than superlative performance can be tolerated. This encourages people to grow, and they gain confidence in your leadership. Each time you correctly analyze a situation as not life-threatening and let them work the problem, your people gain renewed confidence in your judgment.
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If everything is so critical that it requires your personal intervention as a leader, you are destined to failure. First you will lose your followers: no one can maintain the pace required if everything is of equal importance. Things simply are not the same. The care someone uses in combing his hair is not nearly as important as remembering to look both ways, every time, before crossing a city street.
In a submarine control room there is one position from which, when the commanding officer chooses, he can stand and feel the entire fighting ship wrapped around him and at his fingertips as a glove is to a hand. When you step into that one spot behind the attack periscope and act dictatorially, you instantly cut through one or two levels of management. It is as if you were bypassing the submarine’s spinal nervous system and linking your brain directly to each finger.
A good commanding officer can stand in that one position and operate the ship with practically no other officer assistance. He can directly oversee the diving and control team, the sonar team, the navigation team, the fire control team, and so on. There are times when this is necessary—when good men are beginning to panic from danger or sensory overload, or when the situation demands that one precise move be made at one precise moment, or when the ship is in danger and must be saved.
However, just because it is possible does not make it desirable. Every time you take control of your ship in this way you eliminate one training opportunity for your junior officers—probably an excellent training opportunity, if you have the nerve. It is an opportunity to let a young officer test his fledgling wings, to let him walk close and peer over the edge—with your hand near his belt.
Leadership is often just standing back and deliberately moving your branches aside so some sunlight gets down to the saplings—giving your subordinates the time and nourishment necessary for growth.
The commanding officer who would not let his officer of the deck even handle the underwater telephone had no patience and no interest in making people grow. He was so protective of his own image and so much wanted to appear in command that he acknowledged messages not yet received and relied on luck to bring the missing information in on the afternoon wind. It worked two out of three times. He would have been great in the minor leagues.
In violation of good sense and communications discipline, our submarine rogered for a message we had not re
ceived. Subsequently, because we didn’t know where we were supposed to med the other submarine, we didn’t find her We then compounded our error by brazenly and foolishly reporting that the other submarine was missing and presumed lost.
The other submarine, meanwhile, followed proper procedures for using the underwater telephone, provided clear and direct guidance, as was her responsibility as the senior submarine, and then went off to do her training, probably in a very professional manner.
Both ships were subsequently ordered to return immediately to port to discuss exactly what had happened. The commanding officer of our submarine performed a career-prolonging move—he developed his story into a brief, framed in living technicolor. Along the way, he used a little artistic license, shading some here, suffering a little memory loss there, especially about the rogers and outs. He showed up at the informal inquiry armed with a colorful brief and an engaging smile. The other commanding officer showed up armed only with the truth.
I heard that the other commanding officer was reprimanded. Life is not necessarily fair; sometimes what really happened is lost in the emotions of the moment and the inexactness of reconstructions.
But don’t waste too much sympathy on the reprimanded commanding officer. When he finally got his submarine back up to periscope depth and saw all of the high-precedence message traffic for him, he should have been quick to recognize that there was going to be some fallout. There were only two commanding officers out there in the ocean—it should have been easy for him to winnow out who were the candidates for the ceremonial hanging of the guilty. And there is no excuse if you let some son-of-a-bitch beat you in the briefing room, especially when you have truth on your side.
Some of the most worthless individuals can talk a good game, and some of the best people in the world are not natural speakers. So if you want to take the high moral ground, you have two choices: let the bad guys walk away with victory whenever you bang up against them, or recognize that speaking skills are absolutely essential to those who aspire to leadership. You must practice, practice, practice.
And when you brief, do it in color.
Admiral Oliver is the director, General Planning and Programming Division (OP-80), office of the Chief of Naval Operations. Presidio Press will publish a leadership book by Admiral Oliver this fall.