Professional Notes

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Painting the Battle Group’s Tactical Picture

By Commander Peter R. DeLong, U.S. Naval Reserve

ESM SSI combines effective use of data links, new track-management techniques, and realtime algorithms to ensure that all elements of a task force are looking at the same coherent tactical picture.

Electronic Warfare Support Measures Similar Source Integration (ESM SSI) ^ls the keystone in the battle group’s electronic warfare architecture. As a part of the Advanced Combat Direction System, Block 1 (ACDS. Block 1), it will at long last allow ESM sensors to work together to produce a coherent tactical picture lor battle group commanders. Although ACDS Block 1 will be the first to incorporate it, ESM SSI should be included in ^every combat direction system in the fleet.

Currently, ACDS Block 1, now being developed at the Research and Development Division of the Naval Command ^and Control Ocean Surveillance Center ^ln San Diego, California, is scheduled to undergo testing °ⁿ board the USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70). Although it is targeted for aircraft carriers, it ^may be installed on board amphibious ships, and on the Leahy (CG-16)- and Belknap (CG-26)-class cruisers.

Like its predecessors,

^ACDS Block 1 emphasizes an- hair warfare, but it offers improved capabilities in antisurge and antisubmarine warfare as well. It has substantially incased system range, track capacity, and level of doctrine automation. What most sets it apart from other combat di^lection systems past and pre^Sent, however, is ESM SSI’s ^c°mprehensive approach to ^{e ec}tronic warfare. _t ^he purpose of ESM SSI is JJ* automatically the line bearing and parametric out- _c^uts °f all the ESM sensors °^vering the battle group area of opera- 'ons. These sensors include the ALR-73, Sin ^{76, SL}Q‘³²’ WLR-1H. ALQ-142, nil'⁷' ^ALR-66, and others both inter- ,,^a and external to the battle group, pacifically, ESM SSI will exchange re^ts from these sensors via data links, 'angulate and track the resulting emitters and platforms in real time, correlate the results with radar and identification- friend-or-foe (IFF) tracks, classify the targets, resolve disagreements, and make the composite tactical picture available to the units of the battle group.

It will bring to ESM the same kind of end-to-end automation that has revolutionized radar tracking and correlation. The big difference for ESM is that, unlike radar, multiple ships and aircraft must cooperate to successfully build a tactical picture.

In addition to the venerable Link 11, ESM SSI is designed to take advantage of the capabilities of Link 16, an antijam, high-capacity data link based on the Joint

Tactical Information Distribution System. Link 16 provides a dedicated subnet for electronic warfare reporting and track management, and those linked by the electronic warfare (EW) subnet will be able to receive and to contribute to the EW tactical picture developed by ESM SSI, whether or not they have full ESM

SSI capability themselves.

By using new track-management techniques developed for Link 16, the electronic warfare coordinator will be able to ensure that all participants possess coherent EW tactical pictures. The composite tactical picture, which incorporates radar, EW, ASW, and other sensor data, will be exchanged on the Link 16 surveillance subnet using procedures similar to those of Link 11, but with greater accuracy and speed.

By automating routine ESM functions, ESM SSI will change the roles of the EW supervisor and EW coordinator; the latter being a role already undergoing transformation into that of the space and electronic warfare commander (SEWC). With the large amount of sensor data available, a big challenge for ESM SSI engineers has been to make the EW tactical picture comprehensible, and to help EW operators recognize and act on EW information of tactical importance. Some of the resulting man-machine interface problems

ESM SSI organizes local and remote intercepts of each emitter into a single emitter track and emitters on the same platform are associated with a single intermediate track The

ESM SS^T 1, ^(CDS’ ‘^{raCk iS b3Sed 0n in}‘ermediate tracks from radar, aloustic ESM SSIs. Unless this structure ,s exposed to operators, correlation errors are difficult to recognize and correct. umicuu io

are quite difficult—they represent things that have not been done before—but key breakthroughs have been made.

With routine tasks automated, and important data more visible, the EW operator’s job becomes more productive. This should help to create a generation of EW operators who prosecute ESM detections as vigorously as operators now pursue radar-detected targets.

A version of ACDS Block 1—called “core”—is running on the target hardware in a mockup combat information center in San Diego, and is being exercised by an extensive simulation system to verify program capabilities and reliability. The core system possesses most ESM SSI functionality, and an additional increment of software capability is planned before ACDS Block 1 is installed on the initial aircraft carrier.

Why does the fleet need it? Battle group EW today is languishing—lagging far behind its robust radar cousin. ESM is rarely employed because operators are put off by the disparity between the effort required and the results. Even on board the newest units of the fleet, ESM is a manually intensive process requiring constant operator attention. Combat direction system operators must carefully

observe lines of bearing over time to associate them with radar tracks, and signals often cease or disappear before the operator can complete the process. Creation of a fix based on cross-bearings from different units—performed entirely on operator initiative—is tedious and

time-consuming.

There is no effective way to share information with other units without coordination over voice circuits. Only a few lines of bearing and fixes can be handled at one time, and other operators, already trying to cope with large amounts of track data presented on small screens, are not receptive to ESM lines of bearing. Furthermore, EW operators are reluctant to release ESM data to Link 11, knowing that only important reports are worth the effort, and that reporting is disruptive to other units—especially when there may have been a mistake in evaluating the emitter. ESM SSI will automate today’s manual system, and solve the operator motivation problem by letting EW operators see how the information they put on the link actually makes things happen.

Operators on board EW-capable aircraft supporting the battle group— E-2Cs, S-3Bs, and P-3Cs—are also reluctant, and seldom report ESM lines of bearing over Link 11 even though they have excellent ESM equipment and an electronic horizon that shipboard operators can only envy. The LAMPS-III helicopter is a notable exception; it cheerfully pours a stream of ALQ-142 ESM

reports to the mother ship where they are displayed along with the ship’s SLQ-32 intercepts. This fully automated exchange between two units is an example of what should be occurring at the battle group level.

Indeed, tactical data links are the

lifeblood of ESM, and ESM SSI takes advantage of their capabilities. Since a line of bearing is really only half a track (it lacks range), effective use of ESM to find targets depends strongly on receiving the other halves of the tracks automatically from other units over a data link so that the bearing intersections can be tracked. ESM data must be exchanged at a rate appropriate to the resolvable target dynamics—a feat that cannot be accomplished manually except for a handful of targets. Accordingly, the ability to exchange data on the Link 16 EW subnet, as well as on Link 11, has been designed into ESM SSI from the outset.

How it works. ESM SSI attacks the problem of associating lines of bearing from different units by applying the similar sources principle; this requires that association of ESM lines of .bearing be attempted with other ESM lines of bearing before attempting to associate the line of bearing with, say, a radar track. The process lends itself well to automation by computer, and resembles the game of 20 questions. When a new ESM report comes in, the first question ESM SSI asks is, "Is there a matching ESM report already in the system?” If the answer is yes, it associates the lines of bearing and establishes an emitter track where they intersect. The emitter track, which is much more localized than either line of bearing alone, is compared with radar tracks over time until an association decision can be made. If there is no matching ESM report already in the system, ESM SSI will compare the line of bearing with radar tracks over time, looking for a match.

These processes flow together smoothly, so that an emitter track can, for example, start out as a single line of bearing detected at long range; graduate to a moving area of probability (ellipse) supported by two, then three lines of bearing; associate to a newly detected radar track; revert to a single line of bearing (still associated to the radar track) when two of the supporting units lose ESM contact; and, continue to exist even when contact is lost on the radar track. Under some conditions, ESM SSI can maintain a tactical picture without turning on battle group radars at all.

Space does not allow a full discussion of the similar sources principle, but the

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sociation. Of course, the EW coordinator, EW supervisor, and the tactical signals exploitation operator are free to make and break associations manually at any time for any reason. Automatic decisions, me human ones, will sometimes be '''tong. ESM SSI makes no apology for ms fact, and counts on an attentive EW supervisor to set things right.

Every emitter track, whether supported y a single line of bearing or several, is undated by a Kalman filter that refines emitter position estimate over time.

nng measurements need not be taken

mathematical and practical evidence of 'ts efficacy is compelling. ESM SSI makes its comparison of lines of bear- mg based on measured parameters, not °n the emitter classifications that may be attached. In other words, two intersect- mg lines of bearing with radio frequences of 5400 MHz, pulse repetition frequencies of 853.2 Hz, and scan periods °f 2.3 seconds, are going to be associated automatically by ESM SSI whether or not they have been classified, and whether or not the classifications match. The logic applied is very conservative—if the match is less than excellent, the association does not occur (although links to potentially matchable emitters are maintained in software so they may be reviewed by an operator).

The design approach considers a false association to be worse than a missed asthe

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^Slmultaneously in order to produce good Results—an important feature. Units are Jee to report ESM data as rapidly or as °wly as the situation warrants, without special coordination with other units. An Perator who hooks an emitter track for ^Isplay will see the size of the area-of- m ability ellipse shrink as measurement ^P ates are received from the bearing _e ^Urces> ^an(J the course and speed of the ^ltter track will gradually stabilize near flit ^{tfUe va}*^ue- Even though the Kalman trih ^{F Wor}*^cs *^5est when multiple units con- _bi‘^{Ute re}Ports, it does have some capa- onl* ^ ^l° ^t*° ^tar§^e’ motion analysis when Tu°^{ne un}'^t '^{s re}P^ortmg an emitter, ste ^{6 em}'^{tter trac}king process is a key tin? ^In derating EW from its non-real- _0n ^e reputation because it is performed th_e^eVeiT ’rack, and because it removes bani¹¹¹⁶¹^³¹¹’⁰⁸ triangulation to the P ground where it belongs.

ESM^>r<5c^0nC00l^,erat*^ve radiating targets, ®lock i Sm ^main role in ACDS

_a target classification, calculating SpO q ^candidate emitter classes (e.g., ^emitt ’ Erond, LN-66) for each metrfVu¹¹^ based on reference to a para- g]_e ^C ’brary. Only rarely is there a sin- _emi^{an lc}*^ate because so many different ^er classes exhibit overlapping parameter ranges.

For each emitter class, the set of platform classes (e.g., CG-16, Kresta 11, Forger) on which it can appear is known. ESM SSI takes the union of these to produce a complete list of candidate platform classes for the emitter track. If different emitter tracks have been associated, the list of candidate platform classes for the resulting track is the intersection of the lists for each of the constituent emitter tracks. This list is intersected with the list of platforms in the electronic order of battle for the target operating area to produce ESM SSI’s list of candidate platform classes. Speed and altitude data from radars is also used to eliminate candidates. An algorithm calculates a confidence for each surviving candidate platform class.

ESM SSI and its parent, ACDS Block 1, do not act in isolation from other systems. Both the sensor data from which they draw conclusions, and the conclusions they draw, are exchanged with other units over data links. Indeed, a major reason for having an ACDS Block 1 is so the benefits of its comprehensive tactical picture can be provided without the expense of duplicating ACDS on every unit. Although not widely recognized, how to coordinate the sharing—the coherent tactical-pictures problem—is one of the two main engineering problems of Navy command and control; the other is how to prevent sensor data from reaching tactical users by more than one route. The problem of building a coherent tactical picture among cooperating units is especially difficult for ESM because lines of bearing do not stand alone, but must be associated in order to build a tactical picture at all.

ESM SSI’s approach to the coherent tactical pictures problem appears to be the simplest possible. Changes to the Link 16 EW message standards that implement the approach were approved by NATO in 1989. Fundamental to ESM coherence is the requirement that, when an operator on one ship pushes the “associate” button, the same action occurs on every ship on the link. This sounds straightforward, but is tricky because every ship has track data that it does not put on the link, but which is integrated into its local tactical picture. Further, the sequence of data receipt is the strongest determinant of correlation processes, and cannot be made the same for different units because of communications latency. Finally, the update rates for local sensors are greater than for remote.

This should be sufficient evidence for the claim that it is impossible to achieve identical tactical pictures among units. It is possible, however, to achieve coherent tactical pictures; that is, it is possible for different units to agree about the relationships—the correlations, associations, and pairings—that exist among the tracks they hold in common. The most important consequence of coherence is that every participating unit knows to which target each track number refers. Without coherence, units are forced to assign track numbers independently.

One of the benefits of the ESM SSI approach to coherent tactical pictures is that it thrives on diversity. Manual and automatic sensors can be intermingled, each doing what it does best, without forcing each system to go through unnecessary steps in order to present an artificially uniform product to other units on the link. One unit might report only radio frequencies, another pulse-repetition frequencies, and another scan periods. Automated units might divide up their direction-finding duties by band. Virtually any division of duties by the EWC will provide the benefits of data fusion synergism and parallel processing quickly and directly.

Development of ESM SSI has required whole new ways of thinking about EW— which, of course, creates a new set of problems to be solved. The word “track,” for example, no longer has the simple meaning it had in the Navy Tactical Data System. In ACDS Block 1, the typical target is represented by a “multitrack,” that consists of a radar track based on the correlated tracks from multiple local and remote radars, a correlated IFF track, possibly an acoustic track, and an ESM SSI platform track made up of associated emitter tracks comprising associated intercept tracks.

If people and systems such as ACDS never made correlation and association errors, it would not be necessary to expose the underlying track information to the operators. Errors are inevitable, however, and operators must be free to examine and modify associations until the tactical picture is correct. In the past, association errors rarely had to be corrected because tracks were almost never associated. ESM SSI makes it possible for EW operators to do what they intended to do all along.

As ESM SSI succeeds, it will be incorporated into every combat direction system in the fleet. Fortunately, participation in coordinated battle group ESM is not an all-or-nothing proposition, and ESM SSI capability can be added incrementally. Units can report intercepts of interest to them, and let others do the association decision-making—or they can do it themselves. The only essential re-

quirement is to be able to send and receive Link 16 associations for parent ship ESM intercepts.

ESM SSI will also have a beneficial effect on EW operator performance and morale. Until recently, EW operator skills had been waning as operators with knowledge of manual ESM receiver systems were supplanted by operators of automatic ESM systems. Recent training initiatives have been effecting a dramatic turnaround. ESM SSI will accelerate this upward trend by enabling the EW coordinator, EW supervisor, and the tactical signals exploitation operator to concern themselves with the significance of the data they are observing, rather than being occupied with the data itself.

ESM SSI is not the be-all and end-all of ESM data fusion. Its importance lies, rather, in its potential to lift battle group EW over a threshold. As it succeeds, ESM tracks will become as fully automated and integrated as battle group radar tracks now are. Once this threshold is crossed, incremental improvement of EW capabilities will accelerate, and ESM will evolve in much the same way as radar.

Commander DeLong is a Senior Systems Engineer at Hughes Aircraft Company, Fullerton, California. As a reservist, he is the Navy Science Assistance Program coordinator in the Office of Naval Research. He has a Ph.D. in mathematics from the University of Minnesota.

Build the Striker—A Tough Ship

By Rene Loire

Warship architecture has not evolved significantly since early in this century. Revolving missile launchers, for example, are arranged in the same manner as conventional gun turrets used to be, and masts are still tall enough to allow target visualization by radars well beyond the horizon line as seen from bridge level—as in the days of optical range finders. Yet warships have become excessively vulnerable. Use of light alloy metal to build the superstructures, as initiated by the Italian Navy prior to World War II, provides an excuse for keeping them obese and causing extravagant radar signatures.

Because they are too complicated and flimsily built, today’s ships have lost the ability to take hits like the armored battleships and cruisers of the past. Such vulnerability came to light in 1982 when the British fleet dispatched to the Falkland Islands had four destroyers-frigates sunk (including HMS Sheffield lost to an air-delivered Exocet) and nine more ships severely damaged in just three weeks by the small Argentinian Air Force and Fleet Air Arm.

In 1987 in the Persian Gulf, the USS Stark (FFG-31) was “Exocet-ized” with loss of life and a $90 million-repair bill. A new kind of ship predator has indeed appeared: the sea-skimming missile. Ex- ocets have been used in combat about 700 times and won fame courtesy of two of Aerospatiales’ foreign customers—Argentina and Iraq. Amazingly, except for the U.S. Navy, which has launched a total of four Harpoons on two separate occasions, none of the countries that produce sea-skimmers has used them in action.

Ironically, the U.S. Navy’s recently decommissioned half-century-old Iowa (BB-61)-class battleships could certainly survive sea-skimmer stings that would destroy warships of the currently popular ornamental kind. As for a sea-skimmer defense, it remains to be seen whether the high-rate-of-fire Gatling guns that have been developed, such as the Phalanx, Goalkeeper, and Meroka, will stop an 18-inch diameter Exocet closing orthogonally at the speed of sound, within the three or four seconds it takes the missile to transit the gun’s effective range.

Vice Admiral Joseph Metcalf III, U.S. Navy (Retired), in a January 1988 Proceedings article entitled “Revolution at Sea,” recommended two major changes in ship design and shipboard weapons:

>■ A warship should be commanded and the combat situation monitored from a space concealed in the hull. Encounters within visual or gun range are unlikely, eliminating the requirement for a bridge or any other superstructure.

► Only self-propelled weapons should be carried, and they should be stowed vertically in launch silos.

“Le Frappeur, ” alias “The Striker. ” The ship in Figure 1 is in part an implementation of Admiral Metcalfs concept. Indeed, it is a topless vessel and carries silo-stowed missiles in quantities such that it can repeatedly strike hard, thus the aggressive designation. There are specific features, though, which take their inspiration from the author’s experience with offshore construction and shipbuilding industries.

The hull structure, for example, complies with current tanker building practice. Significantly, whereas HMS Sheffield was set afire by an undetected Exocet and the Stark was crippled by two such sea-skimmers, of which only one was detected, and only one actually exploded, few of the tankers targeted by the Iraqi Air Force during the Iran-Iraq War were complete losses (even though some claims were made to expedite insurance coverage). Only when engine rooms were hit, as heat-seeking guidance systems homed-in, did the vessels sustain casualties or damage beyond economical repair.

Tankers are strongly built of plates up to two inches thick, as opposed to the 3/8- inch plating in most of today’s frigates. Precisely because of their use as oil carriers, they incorporate watertight pressure-resistant bulkheads that would keep them afloat should a few tanks—of the total of 15 to 30—be devastated. Another feature we have stolen from the merchant marine is the sturdy low-speed diesel power plant.

Low freeboard and deflective armor• A missile that skims the sea to the very end of its trip to evade antiaircraft defenses cannot fly lower than ten feet above sea level (surely higher over rough seas or if supersonic). My vessel therefore has only ten feet of freeboard, and maintains it by using segregated seawater ballasting as fuel is consumed. Hostile sea-skimmers might well overfly the deck. If a hit is sustained, it would be opposed by six-inch-thick sloped armof plate, which might well cause the missile to ricochet.

Plate thickness measured horizontally is 19 inches, thicker than the 16-inch armor belt classically carried by 16-inch gun battleships that was supposed to resist supersonic piercing projectiles of equal size. The kinetic energy of one-ton 16-inch shells amounts to four times the energy of a .5-ton Exocet, and is twice that of the Franco-German ANS supef' sonic missile.

Reduced water drag. Despite the concerns of some who are more used to ³raised bow, the low-freeboard design by no means suffers reduced seakeeping capabilities. Water drag at high speed even be reduced by letting waves freely flush the bare deck. Moreover, because there is no superstructure—hence no sad area—the ship is not affected by strong

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^Cfoss winds that might otherwise have put !^ts axis at an angle with its path, thus Increasing water drag (to say nothing of ead winds, a consideration that has indeed some tanker designers into stream- ^ln>ng the castle and companion funnel). null arrangement. Typically, the ves- displaces 12,500 metric (long) tons cn fully laden; her light displacement ^s ,000 tons. But her targetable profile j| much shallower than the 7,500-ton ^conderoga (CG-47)-class Aegis cruis- lar ^^oc*^u*^ar construction means that

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8 er cost. Moreover, small increases in beam, and draft ensure much itv ^6r ^^Ue' ^an<^ missile-stowage capac- y, and permit thicker structural plating. _m ^{6 Walls} and deck are 1.6-inches (40 sli ^ant^ should resist splinters and

,r,r^e> *^{n eve}nt of overflying prox- (20 ^'^^Usei* missiles. There are .8-inch ₍ -") ’hick frames at unusually tight

lab -^eet meters) spacing and no tion°^r Tu^enS'^Ve’ ^we'^^eti rolled-steel sec- inrt^S • j ⁶ '^luh's built of 12 prefabricated, p_rj ^1Vl<auahy floatable modules and is l_en ?^a!i^ca**y shaped over 60% of its tj_c | ' ^here are seven structurally iden- fabr' ^moc*^u*^es’ which result in lowered HQ 'caOon-assembiy costs—200 man- ^rs Per metric ton versus 550-plus man-hours in a conventional thin-walled frigate. Hulls for other versions can be made longer or shorter than in the basic 500-foot-long Striker by adding or deleting a 42-foot module amidships.

The benefits of modular construction are well known, especially when the time arrives to update such ships with new or improved equipment by exchanging hull modules.

Propulsion. The power plant is a set of four low-speed (90-125 revolutions per minute) two-stroke diesel engines such as Sulzer eight-cylinder 14,500 brake horsepower RTA-52s, which can be fitted in a 33-foot-deep hull. Unlike gas turbines, they do not require large superstructure stacks to feed them with air.

Two propellers, actuated through step- up gearing, ensure speeds of up to 28 knots. Thanks to the low fuel consumption inherent in such engines, and because the fuel tanks have a 3,000-ton capacity, top speed could be sustained for some 16 days, enabling the Striker to escort nuclear-powered carriers far more effectively than can conventional steam- or gas turbine-powered escorts. On two engines at 70% of maximum throughput, a Striker could sail 48 days at 20 knots.

Low-speed diesels are noisy, and easily detectable by submarines. This could

The Striker has no superstructure; low freeboard and deflective armor help defeat sea-skimming missiles. Her vertical launching system carries large quantities of various missiles, permitting saturation attacks.

be corrected in part by (reluctantly) shifting to quieter medium-speed, light JP-5 fuel-fed engines, provided temptations to introduce mechanical complications such as turbocharging are fended off. It would be better to rely on controllable-pitch props and laterally acting thrusters to help dodge torpedoes, if detected. Low-speed diesels are preferable because they have been proved extensively in commercial operation and they are very reliable— 30,000 hours between overhauls. Such engines can be serviced and maintained in most parts of the world, which would suit emerging navies still without maintenance facilities.

Manning. Thanks to automation and electronics, 250,000-dead weight-ton- tankers are now sailing with crews of 28 (including cooks and stewards), and sizable passenger planes such as medium- range Airbus A320s and even intercontinental Boeing-747s are flown with a crew of two in the cockpit. Warships' com-

Had the Iraqis during Operation Desei Storm been in a position to launch si multaneously the 200-plus French-sup plied Exocets left from the Iran-Iraq wa and stored in bunkers near Basrah (mos or the bunkers were destroyed by AS-3( precision missiles fired from equall French Jaguar strike aircraft), they couli have almost instantly cleared the north ern part of the Persian Gulf of most o the Coalition fleet.

Satellites are providing increasing imagery. Even though some are not fully effective at night or during bad weather, many can discriminate hostile target ships

plements can likewise be reduced drastically by computerization and mechanical simplification. Launching silo-stowed missiles in the right direction at the press of a button is a matter of software—you do not have to man gun batteries, reef sails, and board enemy vessels anymore.

A Striker’s complement need not exceed 35-40 men. Two alternating crews could be provided to maximize sea time, however. Substantial savings would result. Because humans, like gases, classically tend to crowd any volume provided to accommodate them, crew quarters would have to be minimized during the design phase.

Weapons. There are four generous weapon-dedicated midship modules in the basic design; these typically provide 280 single-missile launch silos. Should small, short-range Stinger-like antiaircraft missiles be carried, the numbers could go higher. Missiles could also be loaded in packs of several units to speed up rearming or exchanges. In any event, missile types would be chosen to reflect the ship’s mission at the time.

At least 50 sea-skimmers should be carried. This would make it possible to fire salvos of up to ten missiles (each of them complying with a dedicated target- illumination code so as to avoid mutual confusion). It would be extremely difficult for a targeted ship to destroy, decoy, or dodge all of them, if they were launched within range simultaneously. Chances are high that it would be overwhelmed and hit. The situation could even be made worse for the target should t e sea-skimmers carry sub-munitions such as supersonic laser spot-guided mini-missiles.

Fire and forget. Some conservative thinkers maintain that a tall sensor mast is mandatory to ensure decent detection ranges and to control missiles in flight; no doubt such an array is still useful (at least for a few more years). Any such mast should be retractable, similar to a submarine periscope, to reduce its radar signature.

from non-targets—friendly or neutral ships—using the same technology as fiber-optic guided missiles. Conventional ship radars cannot do this. Furthermore, Harpoons, Exocets, and Otomats, while ascending after launch, can begin autonomous target-tracking.

As an example, let us assume that the target is 30 nautical miles distant. Sea- skimmers might travel this distance in three minutes. During that short time, the target, even sailing at 30 knots, could not move more than 1.5 miles from her position when the salvo launched and would probably not be able to move out of the missiles’ homing device field of view. Countermeasures and decoys plus last- ditch defensive weapons such as Phalanx or Goalkeeper would be her only hope.

There is a trend toward fire-and-for- get weapons and tactics, at least at short and medium ranges. For submerged submarines, it is probably the only tactic available. At longer ranges, within range of Tomahawk cruise missiles, the Global Positioning System can provide the necessary guidance, including target videoimaging and identification.

Costs. For the price of three conventional fleet frigates, a navy could buy at least four Strikers plus replacement modules for use in refits. Critics are concerned that the prodigal use of the Strikers’ extensive missile inventory will drive up the costs and put such ships out of reach of all but the largest navies.

There are two responses;

In the first place, one should compare consolidated costs of financing, purchasing, maintaining, and operating both types of ships—the Striker and a conventional frigate— before limiting the discussion to the missile inventory. Productivity in terms of days at sea per man and in cost per hit inflicted on the enemy must also be considered; the Striker emerges from such comparisons definitely more cost- effective. Furthermore, thanks to its thick, corrosion-resisting hull, mechanical reliability, and operational versatility, the Striker maintains a high residual value in the international second-hand market.
The second answer is that if you cannot afford to load every silo—don’t tell anybody! The U.S. Navy, for example, for a long time neither confirmed nor denied that the Tomahawk cruise missiles carried in its ships had nuclear warheads. The Striker’s foes could be left guessing about the status of its launch cells.

Midship modules could house equipment and weapons other than missiles. A Striker could be rigged as a 150-man commando-carrier by installing readymade portable quarters in the hold. The ship also could be used as a low-profile.

armored fleet oiler or tender. One module might shelter a helicopter on a platform that would be jacked-up above deck for takeoffs and landings. Furthermore, a Striker could be used as a near-stealth, vertical takeoff and.landing aircraft carrier, rigged to carry up to eight Harrier aircraft.

In a sense, spacious fuel tanks make any Striker an oil tanker. Interestingly, a fully laden, 25,000 deadweight-ton commercial tanker has about the same low freeboard; one might be converted to a missile-launching test-bed prior to implementation of the Striker concept. A low-cost reserve striking fleet could even be built in this manner. Pending mobilization and weapon installation, converted flush-deck tankers could be operated commercially. Were additional power—more cylinders added to the basic engine—and other war-specific equipment built-in, the related extra costs would be borne by the government.

Stealth. Assuming that the radar array is retracted, waves and the ship’s own wake will partially hide the Striker’s ten- foot freeboard. Water screens can improve the situation further; the water would enter at the bow, impelled by the ship’s forward motion, and be discharged through two continuous orifices. The system would be calibrated so that the proper flow velocity is ensured at a speed of 20 knots. The power required to lift the water to deck level would range from 3,000 to 6,000 horsepower, depending on the thickness of the water screens and the flow velocity required to offset wind effects. During the Iran-Iraq war, pumpgenerated water screens were used at the aft section of some tankers to decoy Silkworm heat-seeking missiles.

Strikers versus submarines. Could a nuclear-powered attack submarine do a better job than a Striker? After all, a submarine is totally concealed from the enemy, and can launch missiles from its torpedo tubes. A September 1991 Proceedings article, “SSBN - Poseidon + Tomahawk = SSGN,” by Lieutenant Wade H. Schmidt, proposed that the U.S’ Navy convert some nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) into Tomahawk launchers. A Striker, however, would be superior in several respects;

A surface ship can survive some flooding when hit, whereas a holed submarine is a dead submarine.
An attack submarine has no more than ten torpedo tubes and thus cannot fire saturation volleys repeatedly like a Striker Lieutenant Schmidt’s converted SSBN^Scould fire a total of 144 shots.
The cost of a Striker is much lowef than that of a submarine because it'^s

structurally simple and built to commercial standards.

^ A submarine faces strategic limitations; •t cannot operate in shallow waters such as the Persian Gulf, the North Sea, the Baltic Sea, the South China Sea, and other bodies of water. A Striker, however, could come close to the shore and support land operations almost anywhere except in frozen seas.

As a general rule governing technical design, simpler is better. Most of the Striker’s features, such as tanker-like structures and low-speed, two-stroke diesels, are proved and in common use. They will not cause teething troubles. The truly innovative gamble is limited to advanced fire-direction systems carried on board the missiles and to global positioning systems. Our easily modernized ship cannot cover the whole range of marine warfare needs but is still versatile.

She can deal deadly blows and survive enemy fire—a true ship-of-the-line. The venerable and nearly invulnerable lowa- class battleships, which proved so efficient launching Tomahawks in the recent Gulf War, have once again left the fleet. The Striker would prove a good substitute at much lower cost.

Mr. Loire graduated from the Ecole des Travaux Publics in Paris and has spent more than 40 years in design and construction engineering of land- and marine-related structures, including tanker-dry bulk carrier berths, harbors, and single point moors. He has worked for Hersent and Equipements Mecaniques et Hydrauliques in France and spent nine years on various engineering projects in the United States.

Were Naval Medical Forces Prepared?

By Captain Erwin F. Hirsch, Medical Corps, U.S. Naval Reserve

Doctors at shock-trauma centers in peacetime are faced with many of the same injuries and wounds they will have to treat in war. The Navy should expand its current trauma-training program.

/^peration Desert Storm required an '^-'extraordinary deployment of medical resources, a reservists recall, and the simultaneous adjustment of U.S. military health-care facilities to provide care to ^el>gible beneficiaries.

Fortunately, the number of U.S. and oalition casualties was astonishingly ^0w- As a result, the deployed medical resources, the evacuation system, and the continental United States preparations -ⁿt untested in their ability to absorb arge numbers of casualties. ⁿy review of medical operations, therefore, is comP tcated by many assumptions.

I believe, however, that conclusions can be drawn rom experience in the 'etnam War, involvement ^ln civilian trauma activities, ^a” Participation in Oper- ^atl0ns Desert Shield-Desert Mondial!

ni ^'^m*ⁿ'^sh the accom- foments of those who Pupated in these events.

The Navy Medical Department is responsible for • ^e. ^ehvery of health care v \!^S broadest context to: y m^aval forces afloat Navy and Marine Corps

times''¹'¹^ ^{personnel at a11}Naval service depen- el: ■?, ^retirees, and other Ibr* i^{e reci}P^ients in the i_n ' ?.^{d States} or on naval

a ations throughout the world re V'S- Navy enjoys an outstanding _0n / ^ln the care of its deployed forces sand⁰³¹? '^^{s S}*¹‘P^S- The health of thou- ^s °f sailors and Marines is protected

by a combination of senior petty officers working independently or in association with general medical officers. Experience, training, performance reviews, and re- search-and-development programs all play a part in this success.

Medical support during armed conflict is unquestionably a more formidable challenge since the elements of training, clinical practice and performance review are not available as in other missions. This presentation concentrates on this area.

Upon notification of combat deployment, it behooves the Medical Department to establish the size and composition of the medical response. These resources can be identified as facilities, supplies, personnel, and the implementation of research protocols in support of the operational forces.

Facilities. During the Vietnam War, combat casualty care was carried out by the U.S. Navy primarily in third-echelon facilities. The availability of rapid helicopter evacuation, and the locations of the medical treatment facilities made care at second echelon unnecessary.

The large medical treatment facilities were usually tents augmented as the intensity of the conflict increased by wooden frameworks, plywood floors, and tin-roof additions. The Naval Support Activity hospital, intended from the start to be a more permanent structure, was developed around Quonset huts expanded eventually by plywood additions. In addition to these shore facilities, the hospital ships USS Repose (AH-16) and USS Sanctuary (AH-17) were positioned off-shore along the coast of I Corps near Danang. The equipment in all of these facilities allowed for state-of-the-art trauma care surpassing in many instances compara- «*<mss ble facilities in the United States.

During the intervening years, the U.S. Navy undertook major programs to upgrade medical treatment facilities. Two new hospital ships, the USNS Mercy (T-AH-19) and the USNS Comfort (T-AH-20) were put into service to serve as second-, third-, or fourth-echelon hospitals, and to care for

The Navy's foresight has given the fleet two large, new hospital ships— here, the USNS Comfort in the Gulf. They have splendid facilities, but their helipads are too small to handle multiple helicopters simultaneously.

up to 1,000 casualties each. Third-echelon medical care was to be delivered at 500-bed fleet hospitals, three of which were deployed for Operation Desert Storm. These climate-controlled facilities are capable of handling all kinds of casualties. The tactical requirements of this last campaign required medical capabilities close to the front, where resuscitation and life-saving surgical procedures could be performed. While modifications and improvements will always be necessary, the different facilities provide a physical environment where excellent patient care can be provided.

Underway access and transfer of casualties to and from the hospital ships should be reevaluated. The ships’ single helipads have space for only one helicopter at a time; if a helicopter is delayed on the pad, for whatever reason, other inbound helicopters will be forced to orbit, or divert to another ship. The clinical and operational implications are obvious.

Transferring casualties by helicopter from the medical treatment facilities presents a more significant challenge. U.S. Navy operational procedures mandate that these operations be carried out during daylight, thus limiting the time available. Furthermore, prior to loading the aircraft, the crew chief is required to give a safety brief and provide all passengers with the appropriate safety gear, a process that can consume up to 30 minutes for a CH- 46. If 100 to 200 casualties require evacuation, the process could effectively close the facility to incoming casualties for prolonged periods of time.

Personnel. The medical personnel deployed during Operation Desert Storm had excellent clinical qualifications. With few exceptions, however, operational training and exposure to the care of the injured (clinical training) was marginal at all levels, although these shortcomings would have corrected themselves with the passage of time.

That effective command is essential is a given. A medical military mission, by the nature of the differences among the different type of health care providers, requires experienced and knowledgeable leadership that integrates these diverse resources into a cohesive medical unit. In order to establish this cohesive unit, the command structure should provide an en

vironment that best employs the expertise of available personnel. These assets often may be stationed within the military structure at levels not normally expected to participate in the decision-making process. Finally,the command should be an advocate for the professional staff in voicing their concerns and recommendations to operational leaders.

The choice for these positions has been the subject of much debate. Should the commanding officer of a medical treatment facility be a Medical Corps (MC) officer, a Medical Service Corps (MSC) officer, or a Nurse Corps (NC) officer? If the decision is made by survey, each group will insist that the position should be filled by someone within their group.

Indeed, I do not believe that all physicians, all MSC officers, or all NC officers by virtue of their training have any special qualifications to be in command. The choice should be made by either selection and training prior to deployment or by a natural selection process by which some professionals ascend to successful leadership positions within their practice An integral component of the selection process should include an assessment of the candidate’s suitability to lead a health care team during a deployment in support of combatants. Command of a deployed medical treatment facility extends beyond assuring the smooth integration of the clinical resources, to a thorough awareness and knowledge of the facility’s role and relationship to the mission of the forces it supports.

Training. Wars are infrequent enough that there will rarely be sufficient medical officers with combat experience The training of the medical department personnel, active and reserve, thus is a major challenge—which can be improved significantly. The recently completed campaign, and possibly those of the future, will likely be characterized by a rapid mobilization and deployment followed by a high-intensity, relatively short-duration military action. This scenario will preclude the luxury of a “learning curve,” and yet medical care should meet the expected standards from the very earliest phases of the operation.

To achieve this state of readiness active duty and reserve personnel should be thoroughly familiar with the concepts of echelon care and the specific mission and capabilities of each of these facilities. Clinical guidelines in the care of conventional warfare injuries need to be developed and disseminated among active duty and reserve personnel. These should familiarize the department members with the stresses and difficulties inherent in a medical evacuation system where large number of casualties will require transport for extended periods of time.

Beyond operational considerations, clinical exposure to trauma care is essential. While the Advanced Trauma Life Support course and the Combat Casualty Care Course experience provide an introduction to the subject, it would be pre- sumptious to expect that attendance equips one to care for trauma patients. It thus becomes a priority for the armed forces to expose their medical personnel to trauma care in the civilian setting and to involve those reservists with trauma- care experience in the training of MC, NC, and senior enlisted personnel at clinical facilities throughout the country.

Such programs exist on a small scale now, and they should be coordinated so that lessons learned at different facilities are incorporated into a realistic military operational plan. To accomplish these tasks a permanent advisory panel it* trauma care should be established to review these programs and modify them when necessary.

Personnel with special qualifications in the care of casualties are usually avail' able in the active and reserve force. These personnel should be identified, allowed to participate in the planning process, and

then deployed as advisors so that their ^expertise can be available to those who need it.

Supplies. Many of the supply officers °r those in position of command during Operation Desert Shield-Desert Storm ^were at times frustrated by a never-end- ^lng list of what was needed—but was not available—leading to levels of frustration that spilled onto the television screen and Printed media (ABC’s “Nightline” and ‘he New York Times).

Questions were raised as to who de- ^C|des on what type of supplies or equip^ment is to be deployed. An attempt to establish the level of input into this process y active duty and reserve medical officers with an interest and expertise in the care of the injured failed to show that ^SUch input was sought.

Trauma care has changed in the past quarter of a century and therefore what ^suPPlies are to be deployed should be reevaluated using a combination of civil- •an and military criteria to meet realistic ^mfion requirements. We have been un^a le to identify the mechanisms that mon' °r these changes and adapt them to a ^ePloyable force. While a circa-1960 lagged and easy to repair field X-ray unit ^ls satisfactory for basic radiological sur- (a concern voiced by some), and n staples are not as necessary as por- ayed in some articles, certain types of future material, used routinely in ab- ^m|nal surgery to save time, was un- y.ailable. Not only were the type of sup- P res at times a concern, but the quantities to * February 1991, just prior

he ground phase of the campaign, ^ere was enough suture material on oard the Comfort to perform 30 laparo- irues i_n effect, two to three days of ^e,r'^Um''^ntensity casualty load, he expected number of casualties is

determined by those knowledgeable in the potential tactical scenarios, and determining the amount of medical supplies required to care for these casualties is the responsibility of the medical department. Major trauma centers in the United States can provide the rate of use of consumables for different kinds of injuries, and it would seem logical for the Defense Department to work with these civilian trauma centers to gain access to such data. A similar mechanism should be developed that updates equipment and supplies, and authorizes changes. Training programs for those involved using simulation techniques in the echelon care of combat casualties would improve the effectiveness of the personnel and allow them to perform their tasks with less apprehension when called upon to do so.

Research. Advances in medical care have been associated for nearly a century with experiences gained during war. At the end of each conflict, however, there remain a number of unanswered questions—most of which cannot be answered in a non-military setting. The evolving changes in medical ethics preclude the inclusion of patients into therapeutic research protocols without their informed consent, in most instances an impossible task in forward areas during war. The prospective collection of clinical data, however, to develop a data base from which answers to clinical problems may evolve is both ethical and feasible. While individual physicians have developed some data collection systems, there has been no coordinated effort to implement such a program.

The recent military operation in the Persian Gulf witnessed an impressive deployment of medical resources, which fortunately were not needed. While improving the deployed facilities may be necessary, overall they were most appropriate for the function for which they were designed. Access to the hospital ships and most important, underway evacuation of casualties, however, remains a concern if the facility should be simultaneously receiving incoming traffic.

While the clinical qualifications of the active duty and reserve personnel were excellent, serious shortcomings in operational and clinical training were evident at most levels. Selection criteria and training for potential commanding officers should be established. The lack of integration of Navy medical resources throughout the theater was evident. This coordination could be achieved by the presence of a flag officer whose staff would include active duty and reserve naval officers with expertise in combat casualty care.

Research and development is an essential part of combat casualty care, and a renewed effort to establish Navy-wide prospective protocols to collect data that will address unresolved clinical problems need to be considered.

Were we prepared? The answer overall is probably yes, but there were many areas that could have been improved upon prior to August 1990— and in the months of buildup that preceded the opening of hostilities in January 1991.

Dr. Hirsch is Professor of Surgery at The Boston University School of Medicine, Boston, Massachusetts. He served on active duty as a staff surgeon at the U.S. Naval Support Activity, Danang, in 1968-69 during the Vietnam War. He was recalled to active duty in August 1990, and served at the Naval Hospital. Charleston, South Carolina; Naval Hospital Portsmouth, Virginia; and joined the USNS Comfort in the Persian Gulf in January 1991, where he served throughout the Gulf War.

SEALs in Desert Storm

^Taval special warfare forces have Gulf ^een °^{n act}*^ve duty in the Persian the ^s!^nce Operation Earnest Will in _whe^Spr!ⁿ⁸ *987, and they were ready n the call came to support Operation g^ert Shield-Desert Storm. _eratj^XP^er'^ence gained during recent op- j_rnDr°^ns.'ⁿ *he area proved valuable. The knn,^ec ^1VE P^erformance of the new 60- hish ^Fountain 34- and Setton 30-foot and ?n^er^{ed b}°^ats (HSBs)-and the 24- _(Rm ' °°t rigid-hull inflatable boats

desert on~^dUr*ⁿ® Operation Eastern 0 in Jordan, paved the way for

their operational debut in Desert Shield- Desert Storm.

After Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Central Command, directed his Special Operations Component commander. Colonel Jesse Johnson, U.S. Army, to oversee and coordinate the overall special operations effort.

Subsequently, the Navy’s Special Warfare Command, under Rear Admiral George R. Worthington, deployed a Naval Special Warfare Group—an organizational first. Organized as Naval

By John B. Dwyer

Special Warfare Task Group Central (NSWTG-Central) and commanded by Captain Raymond C. Smith, commanding officer, Naval Special Warfare Group One, the task group was headquartered at Dhahran, Saudi Arabia. It consisted of a headquarters element, two task units, two task elements, a special element, one detachment of Fast Attack Vehicles (FAVs), and three special boat unit detachments, which included one HSB detachment—two RHIBs, three Setton craft, and two Fountain craft—and one joint communications support element. The

Dune buggies like this one carried light armament and proved Gulf War^S ^ ^{SEALs ran8ed Ion}8 distances throughout the

task group was augmented by three Kuwaiti Navy combatant craft and Kuwaiti Navy-Marine units.

Commander John A. Tilley, SEAL Team 5 commanding officer, served as group executive officer and officer-in-charge, Naval Special Warfare Task Unit-Central, located at Ras A1 Ghar. Task Units Mike and Sierra were headquartered at Ras A1 Mishab, while Task Element Kilo consisted of SEALs based on board a Kuwaiti Navy Sawahil-35 class boat.

Naval special warfare forces conducted most operations as a unit, but did on occasion operate with other U.S. and Coalition special operations forces. SEALs worked with U.S. special forces to train Saudi counterparts in close air support and naval gunfire communications procedures. Continuing a job begun in January 1990, when a SEAL Mobile Training Team trained a Royal Saudi Navy SEAL platoon, SEALs worked with their Saudi counterparts to help reconstitute the Kuwaiti Navy.

During Desert Storm,

SEALs conducted strategic reconnaissance, early warning patrols along the Kuwaiti border, hydrographic reconnaissance, direct action missions, mine hunting, and combat search and rescue. In addition, they boarded ships in support of maritime interdiction operations.

On 5 January 1991, SEALs embarked in HSBs and RHIBs began conducting nightly patrols along the Saudi coast from Ras AI Mishab up to Mina Saud, Kuwait. The patrols were designed to prevent infiltration or attack by Iraqi small boats, collect intelligence on Iraqi small-boat operations, and establish a presence in northern coastal waters.

As in previous Gulf actions, the enemy put oil platforms to military use. On 19 January two U.S. Army OH-58D helicopters, flying from the USS Nicholas (FFG-47), came under fire from four oil platforms in the Durrah oil field in the North Arabian Gulf. In response, the Nicholas and the Kuwaiti ship Istiqlal opened fire on the platforms, while the OH-58D gunships hit them with rockets. Iraqi troops were observed on the

platforms following the initial engagement, and SEALs from the Nicholas secured them after a brief but intense fight. The SEALs killed 5 Iraqis and captured 23 prisoners, along with numerous

weapons and demolitions; there were no

^SEAL, ^c.^asualties- ^Thjs engagement marked the Gulf War’s first close-quarters action between U.S. and Iraqi forces and the prisoners were the first captured’ On 24 January, Iraqi forces on Qaruh Island—30 miles off the Kuwaiti coast—

^f,^°"°^H-^{58D helico}P^ters operating off the USS Curts (FFG-38). Following a gun and rocket attack by the helicopters the Iraqis raised a white flag, and the Curts SEAL element subsequently secured the island, which was being used to gather intelligence on Coalition naval and air activities. This was the first

Kuwaiti territory reoccupied during the war.

SEALs also participated in Desert Storm’s only maritime combat-search- and-rescue operation. On 23 January, a U.S. Air Force E-3 airborne warning and control system (AWACS) aircraft reported a U.S. F-16 pilot down in the water two miles off the Kuwaiti coast. The frigate Nicholas, the closest ship, was assigned the rescue mis- ~ sion; the ship’s SH-60B! launched, and two SEALs I went into the water to secure J the pilot. Thirty-five minutes I elapsed between the time the ! ship was notified and the time the helicopter cre\V i winched the pilot on board- SEALs flew on board every ' SH-60 alert flight throughout ? the war, a total of 118 such j sorties, which were often di- j verted for mine countermea- j sures work or aerial reconnaissance.

SEALs and special forces detachments conducted special reconnaissance missions at night along the Kuwait- Saudi Arabia border to gather intelligence on front-line Iraqi units. They used FAVs on many of the missions. These vehicles, capable of 80 miles per hour, are modified dune buggies that mounted one .50-caliber machine gun, two M-60 7.62-mm. machine guns, two AT-4 missile launchers, and six light antitank weapons. SEAL Team Five ranged hundreds of miles in the FAVs using satellite navigation and night- vision goggles.

Four FAVS were the first Coalition vehicles to enter Kuwait City. Senior Chief Petty Officer William Weber was in one of those vehicles: “Nobody knew exactly what was going on in the city,” he said' “We knew the Iraqis had left, but there were still weapons lying around all over the place.” Roadblocks and eight-fo^otberms, placed by the fleeing Iraqis to slow the advancing Coalition forces, pro' sented no difficulties for the three-maf FAVs, which simply drove around over them. SEALs later escorted the U.S- ambassador to the U.S. Embassy upon hb return to Kuwait, and then provided perimeter security for the facility.

On 17 January 1991, Iraqi forces ih

Proceedings / July

SEALs Plan for Future

The current Naval Special Warfare (NSW) Tactical Mobility Plan addresses the need to replace aging craft such as the Mk-3 patrol boat and the Mk-8 and Mk-9 SEAL delivery vehicles (SDVs). Based on a Commander-in-Chief, Special Operations Command (CinCSOC) analysis of operations assigned to Special Boat Squadrons by theater commanders in chief, a mix of coastal patrol and interdiction.

long-range insertion, and medium-range insertion craft will be required for low-intensity conflict and regional contingency missions.

Coastal patrol and interdiction craft will be required to: Operate in the ocean at high speeds in a low- to- medium threat environment and will have to be able to do mdependently in the open ocean at high speeds ^ Remain on station for ten days Conduct sustained infiltration/exfiltration, counterinsurgency, countemarcotics, and foreign internal-defense missions.

The craft must provide tactical mobility for a SEAL ^s9uad and have a direct-fire weapon capability, plus be ^{e to} serve as a diving safety and administrative support craft. A Boston Whaler-type patrol boat, light (PBL) is ^emg built to meet this requirement, k , 170-foot USS Cyclone (PC-l)-class of coastal patrol th^>dtS '^S I³⁶'⁰® built for Special Boat Squadrons to satisfy th^6Sf' ^recl^u'^renients- PC-1, a Vosper Thomycroft design, is ^{1e lrst} °l 13 boats being built by Bollinger Shipyards in

Louisiana. At this writing, it was scheduled for delivery to SBS-2, Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek, Virginia, in late May 1992.

Long-range insertion craft must be air-transportable and able to operate clandestinely in a high-threat environment. An improved SDV and a new advanced SEAL delivery system (ASDS) will meet these requirements.

The Mk-8 Mod 1 SDV is a free-flooding combatant submersible that will be transported to the scene inside dry-deck shelters on the rear decks of fleet nuclear submarines, thus providing long-range tactical capability. Its size and maneuverability will allow the Mk-8 Mod 1 to conduct preassault beach feasibility studies, harbor penetrations for surveillance and ship attack, and limited mine detection.

The ASDS is a dry, self-contained system that will be able to carry and protect a fully equipped SEAL squad, possess extended station-keeping capabilities, and provide a safe haven for SEALs when they are ashore. The ASDS can operate with a fleet sub providing long-range tactical mobility, or unilaterally. In this latter mode it can operate portal-to- portal for several hundred miles in a high- threat environment.

The medium-range insertion craft must be air-transportable, able to operate in a low- to medium-threat environments, carry up to a squad of SEALS, operate near shore or inshore at high speeds, and conduct sustained operations. The craft also must be capable of assuming the coastal patrol and interdiction mission if required. To meet these needs, a new patrol boat—the Mk- V—is being built to replace the Mk-3 now in the active inventory.

The 30-foot rigid-hull inflatable boat (RHIB) is already in the inventory. It is air-transportable and can operate in high sea states; its high speed, shallow draft, and across- the-beach operations capability, enable it to serve as the SEALs’ primary ship-to-shore platform.

To facilitate the possible employment of these NSW assets in support of regional CinC requirements, an appropriate mix of craft will be deployed to Naval Special Warfare Units (NSWU) worldwide:

NWSU-1 Naval Station Guam
NSWU-2 Royal Air Force Station Macrihanish, Scotland
NSWU-4 Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico
NSWU-6 Naval Air Station Sigonella, Italy
NSWU-8 Naval Station Panama.

J. B. Dwyer

Hiei ^Cln ^^uwa'¹ began preparing For durin ° h '^ncurs'^on into Saudi Arabia town^fn ^War—^{an attem}Pt to capture the _a f_Q ⁰ ^^as A1 Khafji. North of the town.

Task i i^{ITIan rcconna}i^ssance element from ^n,t Mike observed unusual enemy

activity and began relaying real-time intelligence on troop and vehicle movements. When the Iraqi columns began moving south, the SEALs called in close air support and directed missions until enemy mortar and .50 -caliber machine gun fire forced them to withdraw on 29 January.

Beginning on 16 January, SEALs from Task Unit Mike used high-speed boats and Zodiac F-470 combat rubber raiding craft to conduct a series of 11 mis-

T"«edi„_ss/_Ju|_y

1<W2

sions to gather beach and hydrographic data, and information on coastal defenses along the Kuwaiti coastline. The main reason for the missions was to provide planners with information necessary for a possible amphibious assault by Marines afloat in the 4th and 5th Marine Expeditionary Brigades.

At five miles off the coastal objective, the SEALs began a stairstep approach— using rubber raiding craft equipped with silenced engines launched from the highspeed boats. On some missions, swimmers dropped off from the craft swam all the way to the beach and remained ashore gathering intelligence for up to two hours. Iraqi patrols at times passed within 50 yards of the camouflaged SEALs, but they were never detected.

Any amphibious assault would have required clearing a path through littoral waters heavily mined by the Iraqis. The clandestine mine-hunting operations were conducted by SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team One (SDVT-1) using its 20-foot MK-9 SDVs equipped with obstacle- avoidance sonar and Doppler navigation systems. The two-man crews used the X- 19 underwater breathing apparatus that includes a rebreather to eliminate bubbles. Operating from a Kuwaiti naval vessel well offshore, the SEALs in their wet submersibles used the Mk-9’s onboard sonar to detect mines on six large- scale minehunting missions. From 30 January to 15 February, they cleared 27 square miles of water, but Iraqi mining in the sector was so extensive that amphibious operations were deemed too dangerous.

SEALs also conducted mine countermeasures to clear the way for the U.S. Navy ship movements, flying on every SH-3 and SH-60 helicopter on mine patrol. In the course of 92 sorties, SEALs destroyed 25 Iraqi mines after being dropped into the water to place charges directly on them.

Amphibious operations moved from “possible” to “potential,” as—no matter what happened—General Schwarzkopf wanted to convince the Iraqis that a major amphibious assault across Kuwaiti beaches was in the cards, which would force them to commit units to oppose the threat. As part of the deception plan, SEALs simulated an amphibious landing on the day the ground war started.

About 2400 on the night of 23-24 February 1991, two high-speed boats departed Ras A1 Mishab carrying a SEAL platoon from Task Unit Mike, plus F-470 rubber raiding craft secured to the forward deck. The special boat unit crew detachment transported the 14-man platoon to a position approximately nine miles offshore the southern Kuwaiti coastal city of Mina Saud. Six swimmers then boarded two raiding craft, which were loaded with six 20-pound demolition charges and navigational marker buoys. The swimmers motored stealthily to a point 500 yards off the beach where they shut off the engines. From that point, they swam in with the demolition charges, placing navigation buoys in an amphibious landing boat-lane configuration as they went.

They placed the demolition charges just off the beach in depths of about one foot, set them to go off at a prearranged time, then swam back to their boats for a rendezvous with the HSBs. Exactly three hours prior to the commencement of the 24 February allied ground attack, the six demolition charges detonated Simultaneously, SEALs and Special Boat Unit sailors opened fire on the Iraqi bunker complexes with .50-caliber machine guns and Mk-19 40-mm. grenade launchers from high-speed boats skirting the beach. To enhance the deception, SEALs called in preplanned naval gunfire and air strikes to support the start of the “amphibious assault.” Again, there were no casualties. Intelligence later indicated that elements of two Iraqi armored divisions—armor that otherwise would have been used against Coalition forces—had been held in place by the two Marine brigades afloat off the east coast and deception operations such as this.

SEALs recovered a total of 35 enemy prisoners of war in the Gulf, including 15 from an oil platform. SEALs in SH-3 helicopters—covered by an SH-60, a British Lynx helicopter, and an F/A-18—were winched down to the platform where they destroyed the Iraqi’s weapons, then put the prisoners on board the helicopters and took them back to the Nicholas. Twenty prisoners of war were recovered after a patrol aircraft reported seeing them on a life raft in the Northern Arabian Gulf.

SEAL Teams 1, 3, and 5; SEAL Delivery Team 1; Special Boat Units 11, 12, and 13; and the HSB detachment of Special Boat Squadron 1 conducted a total of 270 missions and sustained no casualties. Their success bodes well for the possible future employment of naval special warfare forces, which will become even more important in the post-Cold War era.

Mr. Dwyer served as an infantryman with the U.S. Army’s Fourth Infantry Division during the Vietnam War in 1968-1969. He is a free-lance writer, and has published numerous articles on naval special warfare. His book Seaborne Deception, about the Navy’s Beachjumper units, was published by Praeger last month.

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