Professional Notes

Cross-Decking with the Russians Can Work

By Thomas S. Momiyama

I propose nothing less than to crossdeck with the Russian Navy.

Visualize the Russian naval air force’s premier carrier strike fighter Su-33, with its hook down in the groove “on the ball” to the angled deck of the USS John C. Stennis. (CVN-74). Not far away, a U.S. Navy F/A-18 Hornet is lining up for the familiarly configured angled deck of the Russian Navy’s carrier Admiral Kuznetsov.

This particular scenario cannot be developed quickly only because of the fundamental technical difference in the evolutions of U.S. and Russian carrier-based aircraft: the Russians use ramps rather than catapults. Rigorous analyses and testing with real, i.e., existing (therefore—low cost) hardware, and careful attention to operational techniques are required before the operation can become a regular East-West alliance fleet asset. Nevertheless, we should pursue this international naval possibility. The visible will of a united superpower alliance could be the answer to containing the post-Cold War trend toward hotspot conflicts.

American’s aversion to the world-policeman role stems from a reluctance to commit U.S. troops on the ground. Americans are much less adamant about the use of air power. Intervention by air power based away from the troubled area, while potentially militarily effective, is hardly the same as a shot across the bow backed up by the obvious substance of military capability and the will of the nation-state to use the capability.

Most recently, the United States positioned a carrier task force in international waters, but sufficiently close to Taiwan and mainland China—who were diametrically poised in a precarious saber- rattling exercise. The visible presence of a readily available air interception and deep-strike capability underscored the nation’s capabilities.

The 67,500-ton Admiral Kuznetsov can embark about 50 aircraft, including the Mach 2.35 Su-33, and, as described by Vice Admiral Robert Dunn, U.S. Navy (Retired), has “joined the big leagues of carrier aviation.” [See Proceedings April 1996, page 40.] Notwithstanding subsequent published remarks by a reader who disagreed [see Proceedings July 1996, Comment and Discussion, page 25], the sound technical base and the superb performance of their aircraft bespeak Russian naval aviation’s value as an ally. These aircraft carrier-equipped countries intrinsically represent the strategic, tactical, and technical capabilities of classic sea-based air power: high sortie rate, around-the-clock, full-spectrum air warfare.

The benchmark weapon system for traditional carrier-based aviation is the conventional (instead of vertical) takeoff- and-landing aircraft with high performance, long range, high payload, and sophisticated multipurpose weapon systems capabilities comparable to land-based counterparts. The special technical challenge when designing such carrier-based aircraft is in developing systems/techniques to launch them from the forward 400 feet of a flight deck—and recover them on the aft 400 feet of a ship moving with six degrees of freedom. Even relatively smooth steam catapults impose cumulative-fatigue longitudinal g-loads, as will the potentially even more forgiving force application of the automatically controllable electromagnetic catapult, now under development. Nevertheless, the efficacy and safety of launch with on-demand energy availability makes catapults the most reliable all-weather launching device for the current long-range, high-payload, conventional takeoff aircraft.

The Russian Navy has taken a different approach. Because the Su-33 is a derivative of the land-based Su-27 Flanker unable to withstand catapult- imposed loads but does have a high thrust-to-weight ratio, the Russians chose the deck run takeoff in conjunction with a skjjump. The skijump imparts a high- angle aircraft attitude at lift off to aid in rotation to the necessary fly-off attitude and, most of all, directs the flight vector upward to ensure safe flight path as the aircraft accelerates in a ballistic trajectory.

Informal discussions with my colleagues at the M.M. Gromov Flight Research Institute (abbreviated LII in Russian) on a possible U.S.-Russia cooperative test touched upon the Russian’s concern about the Su-33’s ability to launch using a deck run on a U.S. carrier without a skijump. The U.S. carriers’ longer flight decks might provide needed additional deck-run length.

Lack of a holdback device on the Su-33 (the Russians use deck-retractable wheel chocks) and the likely mismatch of locations between our catapult-aligned jet blast deflectors and the deck take-off run initiation points for the Su-33 may also be of concern.

The Su-33s landing gear has been modified from those on “stock” Su-27s to accommodate the 30% load increase imparted by the upward sweep of the skijump ramp as the aircraft rolls onto it accelerating to reach the safe takeoff speed, i.e., zero sink rate, as the aircraft clears the bow.

U.S. Navy tests of catapult-capable aircraft in launches from the skijumps—up to a 9° ramp angle—at the Naval Air Test Center Patuxent River in the 1980s, also revealed significant increases in landing gear loads. The loads, however, were well within the limits of the Navy’s carrier- based aircraft design. There was more concern about the reduced takeoff airspeed attainable with the skijump—as much as 40 knots lower than the F/A-18A’s safe single-engine minimum control speeds, although within the safe ejection envelope.

Today’s F/A-18C/Ds therefore stand to benefit from the Admiral Kuznetsov's 12° skijump and the wind-over-the-deck advantage at sea—with careful buildup tests to match the aircraft structural loads to the carrier’s ramp geometry and to develop a safe operational envelope.

As Rear Admiral George lessen, U.S. Navy (Retired), and others, have advocated [see “The Ski Jump Is the Future,” Proceedings September 1995, pages 29- 34], skijumps provide significant benefits for certain non-V/STOL aircraft. As Dr. John W. Fozard, British Aerospace’s “Father of the Harrier and the Ski Jump,” has pointed out, however, the ski-jump is for a very high thrust-to- weight ratio aircraft that can accelerate rapidly during the ballistic trajectory period, e.g., V/STOL aircraft transitioning from thrust-borne to wing-borne flight. A fundamental change may be needed in the West’s carrier-suitable aircraft design philosophy with respect to a very high thrust-to-weight ratio. The Su-33’s ratio is well over 1:1; the F/A-18A in the U.S. test had a ratio of about 0.7:1. It may be time for a serious review of the ever-increasing demands for payload and range versus the tactical and operational advantages of increases in basic aircraft performance.

The Joint Strike Fighter (JSF) program portends a possible closing of the gap between the V/STOL skijumpers and the conventional catapulters. The concept of the short-takeoff/vertical-landing (STOVL) version of the JSF for the United States and United Kingdom AV-8B Harrier follow-on, together with the now institutionalized skijumps of European NATO navies, bodes well for the eventual adoption or adaptation of the skijump in U.S. naval aviation.

Brigadier General Joseph T. Anderson, U.S. Marine Corps, Vice Commander of the Naval Air Systems Command and a Harrier test pilot, has espoused the idea of equipping catapult-toting U.S. super carriers with a retractable ski jump—possibly mounted on a monorail—to provide dual maximum launch performance for STOVL and conventional aircraft.

The Naval Air Warfare Center Aircraft Division (NAWCAD) has developed the concept of a small articulated ski jump at the end of the catapult power stroke to add an extra takeoff performance of the catapulted aircraft, a concept used by the French Navy on the carrier Foch during trials of their new Rafale fighter. Growth derivatives of the longer-range, higher- payload conventional naval JSF may be able to exploit the skijump evolution. Today, the Navy has a real opportunity to investigate the benefit by cross-decking an F/A-18 to the Admiral Kuznetsov.

The Russians did adopt the constant glide-slope approach and arrested landing pioneered by Western navies, and they use an optical landing system similar to the U.S. Navy’s Fresnel-lens.

The Russian shipboard arresting-gear engine and cable-payout designs probably are quite similar to ours. Specific performance characteristics, however, such as the maximum energy level, peak-to- mean pressure ratio, cable run out, cable wear-strength and replacement criteria, engaging speed envelope, etc., of the Russian and American arresting gears must be examined comparatively before any cross-decking can occur.

Developing a U.S.-Russia joint naval air capability must be a single project with two distinct efforts:

• Russian naval and technical units should test Su-33 and perhaps Su-25UTG aircraft compatibility with a U.S. carrier.
• Their U.S. Navy counterparts should test the F/A-18 on the Admiral Kuznetsov.

Previous exchange visits between the U.S. Navy Test Pilot School at Patuxent River and the Russia’s Gromov LII test pilot school at Zhukovsky (Moscow Region) indicated a budding Russian interest in testing the Su-27K(Su-33) on board a U.S. carrier, with a special interest in feedback from the U.S. pilots. Apparently, U.S. Sixth Fleet representatives have expressed similar interest in “joint Russia/USN carrier operations to promote cooperation and professional competence.”

NavAir and Patuxent River have made preliminary studies of engineering data requirements and necessary phased tests if trials proceed. The analyses determined that trials are feasible, but noted technical challenges associated with matching two high-performance aviation systems.

Russian and U.S. Navy engineers must conduct detailed engineering analysis of the structural compatibility of the Su-33 with the Mk 7 arresting gear and analysis of Su-33 takeoff performance given the deck run available on U.S. carriers. Shore-based arresting-landing tests at Patuxent River would be followed by shipboard launch and recovery trials.

A cross-deck operation is not a cross-deck operation until each party of the alliance has established a quid pro quo operational capability on the other’s deck. Operating from the Admiral Kuznetsov offers the only realistic way for the U.S. Navy to conduct at-sea tests, because the Russian carrier is the only ship in the world equipped with both arresting gear and a ski-jump.

Obviously, detailed engineering analysis of the Russian arresting gear and the projected compatibility of the F/A-18 structural capability with the geometry of the Admiral Kuznetsov’s ski jump will be required. Shore-based ski-jump and arrested landings at the Russian facility would be followed by sea trials.

The overall program would bring together two navies that have taken technically different routes toward sea-based aviation. In addition, the sea trials would constitute a bona fide international cooperative test and evaluation program that could be funded rationally under one of the defense research, development, test, and evaluation (RTD&E) budget categories.

As long as the ski jump launch technique remains an option for future carrier-based aircraft, RDT&E funds from specific aircraft programs such as the F/A-18E/F or JSF might be used for the proposed trials as a proof of concept.

The Department of Defense Foreign Comparative Test program might provide another funding source. The requirement for follow-on U.S. procurement of the foreign product when tested superior could be met in this case if certain concrete engineering aspects of the carrier- based fighter design for ski jump launch—as an original Russian product—could be imported for incorporation, modification, or even eventual co-production. Aerodynamic shaping, control logic, flight and engineering techniques, fundamental design concepts, or even shipboard equipment might fall into this category.

If the Nunn-Quayle initiative on cooperative R&D programs with the former Soviet Union republics remains in effect, it too would be a further appropriate funding source.

No private-sector firm—United States or Russian—could undertake a program of this technical scope and defense impact, which leaves it up to the administration and the services. Accordingly, the Pentagon and the Russian Federation’s Ministry of Defense should expedite the establishment of a standard information exchange agreement, which is now being staffed; the Su-33 and F/A-18 shipboard test program would be a specific annex to the agreement.

The project calls for no new technology. Rather it is a novel application of the existing governmental assets of two separately grown technical cultures. For the United States, the project provides an opportunity to test a new dimension in naval tactical aircraft capability. I urge the public sectors of both the United States and Russia to take the initiative.

Mr. Momiyama, a retired member of the Navy Department Senior Executive Service, is active in international aviation communities as a freelance advisor. Starting as a flight test engineer at the Naval Air Test Center Patuxent River, Maryland, in 1957, he retired in 1995 as director of aircraft research and technology programs at the Naval Air Systems Command.

The Whole LPD-17 Story

By Major Thomas E. Lloyd, U.S Marine Corps (Retired)

Maintaining amphibious forces and carrier aviation should be the Navy’s primary goal for the 21st century—and the third-generation amphibious transport dock (LPD-17) will be a major step along the way.

The ship will replace four amphibious-ship classes:

• Newport (LST-1179)-class landing ship tank
• Anchorage (LSD-36)-class landing ship dock
• Charleston (LKA-113)-class landing cargo assault ship > Austin (LPD-4) class

The challenge for the LPD-17 designers is to improve existing capabilities while introducing new ones. Accordingly, they have adopted a computerized design based upon three basic warfare functions: transporting elements of the assault echelon to the amphibious objective area (AOA), providing command and control, and acting as a seaborne logistics base.

The result is an advanced amphibious warship that incorporates most of the retiring ships’ capabilities along with enhanced command-and-control, survivability, and self-defense features. Several time-tested capabilities have been eliminated, although some would argue that they are critical at the assault-echelon level:

• The LPD-17 will not be able to beach itself or launch causeways.
• It cannot pump bulk fuel ashore or make a 360° turn on its own axis in shallow water.
• Its over-the-side handling is limited to about 10 tons; its predecessors could handle 30 tons.

The doctrine of naval power projection espoused by “ ... From the Sea” and the capabilities of landing craft, air cushion (LCAC), to launch assaults from over-the-horizon have transformed the focus of amphibious operations. The MV- 22 Osprey tiltrotor and advanced assault amphibian vehicle (AAAV) will reinforce these capabilities.

Given better mobility, landing force objectives are likely to be deeper inland; secure beachheads may not be established. With deeper objectives secured by air-mobile infantry and faster, more versatile combat vehicles such as the light armored vehicle operating well forward, forward ammunition refuel points can be staged deeper inland. All this will require greater reliance on air- and mobile-loaded ground transportation and less reliance on beach support. For extended operations, maritime prepositioning ships, fast sealift, and other follow-on-ships will provide logistics support.

The LPD-17 is designed for these changes. Those who view it only as a replacement for the past, rather than as a benchmark for the future, are ignoring modern warfare with its emphasis on flexibility, maneuver, and technology.

No ship, regardless of design, can silence all criticism. Tradeoffs and compromises are inevitable: some are made for fiscal reasons, others because of operational necessity. The requirement for a smaller radar cross section resulted in a smaller crane on the LPD-17—in this case, increased survivability was the tradeoff for less crane capacity.

Motorized gasoline (MoGas) is another illustration of conflicting requirements. The LPD-17 carries 10,000 carries gallons to meet the needs of embarked Marine and Navy units, a decision made over the almost universal objections of the surface Navy.

The lost capabilities can be offset by other means. For short operations, fuel bladders can transport bulk fuel ashore; for sustainment, the follow-on echelon ships can provide it. Handling trucks with cranes always was manpower intensive and time consuming; the LPD-17’s self-deploying side port will embark and debark a five-ton truck in minutes—and only a driver is required. Containers can be mobile loaded on five- ton trucks or logistic vehicle systems (LVSs). Over-the-horizon doctrine has appreciably diminished dependency on causeways and LST beaching.

Many LPD-17 critics misunderstand the basic reasons for its selection, which was driven by two requirements:

• Amphibious lift for 2.5 Marine expeditionary brigades
• Forward presence

The latter reflects an ongoing requirement to maintain 12 amphibious ready groups (ARGs), each with a big-deck amphibious assault ship (LHA/LHD), an LPD, and an LSD.

Naval analyst Norman Polmar has recommended scrapping the present LPD-17 for a full flight-deck design with a starboard island structure similar to that on the LHD. (See “The U.S. Navy,” Proceedings June 1996, pages 83-84.) Aviation, however, was not the primary consideration for developing the LPD-17. Moreover, the 1990 Department of the Navy Integrated Amphibious Operations and USMC Air Support Requirements Study (DoN Lift Study) highlighted the requirement for a medium-size amphibious ship with sufficient aviation assets to act as a secondary deck. Forward-presence requirements also emphasized the need for a secondary aviation ship in the ARG with enough command-and-control capability to operate independently when required.

The proposal to build a ship with a full-scale LHD flight deck on a smaller hull overlooks fiscal reality. Even a scaled-down LHD version—in terms of hull, command, control, communications, computers, and intelligence—probably would cost more than the LPD-17. That expense coupled with the cost of redesign, research, and feasibility studies to answer engineering and architectural concerns would be considerable. For instance: Will a turbocharged LSD-41 diesel propulsion plant handle the additional weight of a full flight deck? Answering such questions would inevitably delay construction for several years.

Furthermore, given the increased cost, it is unlikely that enough ships would be built to maintain today’s levels of forward presence. Plans call for 12 LPD-17s to match the planned number of amphibious ready groups. Larger ships, but fewer of them, might reduce to two the number of ships in the ready groups. Two-ship groups would be less flexible, and the number of groups also might be reduced, which would require more frequent and longer deployments.

The article attributed the LPD-17’s higher cost to its “comprehensive global command-and-control system,” and questioned the requirement for extensive command-and-control facilities since it is "highly unlikely” that LPDs will operate independently.

This assertion ignores history. Fewer ships and more requirements often make splitting a ready group an operational necessity. In the 1980s, LPDs operated independently in the Persian Gulf. More recently, the USS Ponce (LPD-15) deployed to Liberia with a special purpose Marine air-ground task force. Command-and-control requirements long have been overlooked, misunderstood, or ignored on board amphibious ships; every amphibious ship plays an active role in directing amphibious operations, either as the flagship or as a primary control ship.

In the case of the LPD-17 modern integrated command-and-control systems give it the flexibility to operate with an ARG or independently. The ship also can act as a tactical control platform for Marine expeditionary units special operations capable (MEU/SOC), or any other assigned joint, naval task force, or MAGTF missions. Such operations require not only voice communications, but also satellite links, computer communications, and intelligence gathering and dissemination capability.

The LPD-17 has the command-and- control capabilities it needs. We are in the midst of a technological revolution and the ship must be a part of that revolution, or it will be obsolete before its keel is laid.

Amphibious warfare continues to be scrutinized. Some in the Department of Defense and the Congress believe that it is outmoded. Others think that there are less expensive alternatives to amphibious ships; they argue that commercial and fast sealift ships can transport weapons, ammunition, and equipment to trouble spots with fewer manning requirements, and lower procurement and operating costs.

Well-intended suggestions promoting the inclusion of fast sealift and prepositioned ships into the assault echelon send the wrong signals to the Defense and Navy Departments as well as to the Congress. Assertions that the vulnerability and survivability of an amphibious ship versus a commercial one are not major issues ignore the lethality of modem warfare. Furthermore, reactionary proposals to keep outmoded LSTs detract from the real and critical requirement for state-of- the-art amphibious warships.

Amphibious operations are essential for expeditionary warfare. They deliver combat power ashore using air and surface craft, provide logistics and medical support, and offer the landing force a critical link to the sea. These capabilities give expeditionary forces the ability to reinforce or quickly withdraw—and they cannot be matched by a non-cohesive collage of sealift, commercial transports, and cargo planes.

To that end, the Navy must continue to focus on littoral warfare and maintaining a modern amphibious fleet. The LPD-17 is a giant leap in that direction.

Major Lloyd is a writer. He retired in 1995 as the officer in charge of LPD-17 mission systems design at the Naval Sea Systems Command.

Test Marines on Performance—Not Memory

Major Richard E. Lanicek, U.S. Marine Corps

As I waited to board the airliner, I struck up a conversation with a member of the ground crew; he had just finished training. “So, how does it feel to be on the job at last?”

“Great,” he replied, “I’ve never worked on an airplane before.”

“What? But you just finished school!”

“Yes, sir. I graduated with a 97-point average,” he beamed.

“But if you’ve never worked on an airplane before, what kind of tests did you take in school?”

“Multiple choice and true-false,” he said.

Still feeling comfortable after that fictional conversation? Well, hang on, because the Marine Corps takes that flight every day—in real life.

There is no Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) consisting primarily of answering rote-memory test questions that require only simple recall. Yet, how many Marine Corps schools have you attended where you were certified competent by such tests, rather than your demonstrated ability to use the same equipment, doctrine, tactics, techniques, and procedures you were expected to know at your job? Unfortunately, indications are that only about 20% of the tasks students perform at many Marine Corps formal schools are duplicated on the job.

Yet the Corps does have an effective way to teach: the Systems Approach to Training (SAT). It is not unique to the Marine Corps; rather, it is one of many models of instructional systems design used by corporations, businesses, government branches, and the other services.

Its basic premise—efficient use of school resources—depends on the following:

• Determining what tasks the Marine will perform on the job
• Arranging those tasks in priority
• Designing the curriculum to teach the highest-priority tasks
• Ensuring the Marine can actually perform those tasks before leaving
• Evaluating the process continually to refine and streamline the procedures

Relatively few Marines, including the personnel assigned to formal schools, understand the process. Many believe it is simply another term for the old Technique of Military Instruction—a mechanical, inadequate, and obsolete method of platform instruction still in the curriculum at numerous Marine Corps formal schools, including The Basic School, Drill Instructor School, and the Professional Military Education Academy at Marine Corps Air Station El Toro, California. These schools use platform- and lecture-based instruction and test memory and recall ability—which conflicts directly with the performance-based evaluations needed by Marines to ensure job competency.

Beyond confusing the two approaches, the most significant problem related to implementing the systems approach at Marine Corps schools is that the schools test only enabling learning objectives and use tests that are easy to grade—true/false and multiple choice—as opposed to performance, essay, fill-in-the-blanks, and matching. The result is that Marines graduate by memorizing low-level enabling learning objectives for rote-memory tests. The absurdity of testing officers at top-, mid-, and basic-level schools with 100-question multiple-choice tests that anyone with a good memory can take and pass with a perfect score is obvious.

The SAT process consists of five interactive and continuous phases: analysis, design, development, implementation, and evaluation. Analysis is orchestrated by task analysts at the Standards Branch, Training and Education Division, in Quantico, Virginia. The products—the tasks whose sum defines an MOS or special billet—are the Individual Training Standards (ITSs) published in a Marine Corps Order 1510-series. The orders list the real-world tasks a Marine performs on the job, including the steps or series of actions required. Furthermore, the order sets priorities for the tasks by annotating which will be taught at the formal school and to what extent, and which are reserved for managed on-the- job training.

The Fleet Marine Force defines the jobs by providing the content of the ITS orders, which are developed with input from both school representatives and FMF subject-matter experts. The standards provide a blueprint to the school for its curriculum. Clearly, schools exist to support the FMF by providing graduates certified competent in their jobs. Here lies the crux of the problem; more often than not, schools do not directly evaluate the student’s ability to actually perform the tasks.

Learning analysis is the process by which the school translates the individual standards into learning objectives: enabling and terminal.

Each standard becomes a terminal learning objective, reflecting the individual training standard exactly. Resources—read money—are the only reason for not achieving this goal. If the individual task were to “Engage a target with the TOW missile,” for example, and the cost did not allow every student to fire a missile, the terminal learning objective might be altered to “Engage a target with the TOW missile simulator.” The goal of the instruction is still to train Marines to use the TOW missile, not the simulator. The simulator is simply a training aid.

Enabling learning objectives are derived from the steps required; each step, however, does not become automatically an enabling objective. These are generated by analyzing the individual standard’s steps and determining what the student needs to know (knowledge) or be able to do (skill to perform each step)— these become the enabling objectives.

Enabling learning objectives are purely academic in nature and are not required at all. Without them, the learning analysis must still be conducted to determine what needs to be taught, i.e., what knowledge and skills are needed.

The common misconception is that enabling objectives are the steps to accomplish the terminal objectives—and if the Marine can perform the steps, the Marine can perform the terminal objective. This is why schools test only the enabling objectives, which relate to basic knowledge and skills and are easily evaluated by means of rote-memory test questions. When a school fails to test the terminal learning objectives, however, the student never performs the tasks needed on the job, and should not be certified as competent. Yet this certification of competency is the primary mission of the school.

The solution is simple. Marine Corps formal schools and training centers must embrace the systems approach. School directors and commanding officers must ensure that every individual training standard designated in a Marine Corps order to be taught at the school has a corresponding terminal learning objective. Whenever possible, these should be evaluated based on performance, not by simple recall such as multiple-choice and true/false test questions.

Enabling learning objectives should be employed sparingly—usually when one or more specific items of specific knowledge or skills must be emphasized or recorded. Enabling objectives also are needed when evaluators feel it necessary to gather feedback at a certain point in the learning process. This allows school personnel to pinpoint suspected problem areas, e.g., in lesson planning, instructors and curriculum developers need to know where in the class they failed. Once again, these enabling objectives should be performance-based whenever possible.

Before writing curricula or stepping in front of a class, all personnel assigned to a Marine Corps formal school or training center should attend the appropriate course at Instructional Management School. School personnel at all levels, and anyone else interested in how our Marines are trained, should be familiar with MCO 1510.69 Individual Training Standards for Formal School Instructors, and the Systems Approach to Training (SAT) User’s Guide.

The next time a new Marine checks into your command, remember the airplane mechanic. Ask your new Marine about school, testing procedures, and hands-on performance. If the Marine has to be retrained, notify the school and ask if it tests terminal learning objectives. Chances are, it doesn’t.

Major Lanicek is the Logistics Officer with the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit, Camp Pendleton, California. From 1989 to 1993, he was an instructor at the Instructional Management School and a task analyst at the Standards Branch of the Training and Education Division, Quantico, Virginia.

That Was No Rambo—That Was a Hellfire

By Lieutenant Chris Fitzgerald, U.S. Navy

Captain Buzzell presents some valid points in his article “Helicopter Rambos—A Fatal Combination,” (Proceedings April 1996, pages 89-91), which address potential shortcomings of the SH-60B/Hellfire system. He concludes the Navy would be better off spending its money on more AGM-119B Penguin missiles for the SH-60B Block I upgrade, rather than investing in the AGM-114 Hellfire missile system for the SH-60B Armed Helo.

But while the conclusion may appear logical when based solely on comparison between the two weapons, it is not so logical when the increase in total system capability provided by the Armed Helo upgrade, including Hellfire, is considered.

Rather than asking, “Is it prudent to risk a $40 million weapons platform . . . ,” as Captain Buzzell does—ask, “Is it prudent to risk a $900 million ship?” Forcing the ship to engage enemy surface targets while the helicopter clears the area is an outdated tactic. Today’s Navy, operating in the littorals, will not have the luxury of extended ranges and long response times to react to small-boat threats. A combatant transiting the Strait of Hormuz may be forced to engage multiple surface targets at close range. Under these conditions, a properly armed helicopter could engage the enemy at a greater distance from the ship, deliver first-punch capability, and share the defensive burden with the ship.

LAMPS III air crews have spent hours screening surface contacts for potential threats as the force enters declared combat zones—not a Rambo attitude, but a tactical use of the LAMPS Ills that almost every small combatant has access to.

The Navy that proceeds “.. . From the sea” will be a smaller Navy with fewer aircraft carriers and fewer fixed-wing tactical assets. Arming the SH-60B is a smart, cost-effective way to deal with low-level threats while reserving our tactical fixed-wing aircraft for more severe threats and strike missions. In addition, a properly armed helicopter, equipped to engage small craft, can provide effective organic air capability for combatants operating outside the aircraft carrier’s umbrella.

Cost is a valid issue. The current cost of the AGM-119B Penguin missile is $1.4 million as compared to $32,000 for the AGM-114B Hellfire. Giving the Armed Helo an off-the-shelf Hellfire capability affords the fleet the flexibility to employ the smaller missile against small boats, oil platforms, surfaced submarines, and merchant ships at one-fortieth the cost of a Penguin. Employ the Penguin punch where it is required—against a frigate or sophisticated patrol boat. Hellfire is a cost-effective enhancement, not a replacement for the Penguin.

The Penguin has its strengths—and its weaknesses.

► Penguin, like Harpoon, is a fire-and-forget weapon. It is instructive to note that no Penguins or Harpoons were used by U.S. forces in Desert Storm. The reason is that the Persian Gulfs heavy surface traffic led to rules of engagement that precluded use of such weapons because of their inability to discriminate between hostile, neutral, and friendly targets after launch. Hellfire, on the other hand, was widely used in Desert Storm because it was relatively cheap, effective, and most important, operator controlled by laser homing all the way to target impact.

The Penguin’s greater standoff capability may be nullified when rules of engagement require positive visual identification, as was the case in Operation Desert Storm. We can expect that the rules of engagement in future conflicts will continue to require visual identification of targets, and that Hellfire will continue to fit the bill as an effective weapon in these circumstances.

Hellfire is but one element of the Armed Helo. To limit the comparison to the Penguin missile versus the Hellfire is to ignore the additional capabilities the Armed Helo brings to the battle. The SH-60B will have one of the most powerful laser designator/forward-looking infrared (FLIR) systems in naval service: the AN/AAS-44(V). This capability will allow LAMPS Ills to stand off well outside shoulder-fired surface-to-air missile (SAM) range while designating for any third-party, laser-guided smart munition in the U.S. arsenal.

The FLIR has a 96-power magnification and its images can be down-linked in real time to the LAMPS III ship along with the radar, identification friend-or-foe, electronic countermeasures, and voice data that is already being downlinked. This capability improves LAMPS III capabilities during darkness and allows ship skippers to observe the action. The AN/AAS-44(V) is in the final phase of developmental and operational testing; fleet introduction is scheduled for January 1997.

Most important, adding Hellfire will convert the weapons stations of the SH-60B to a MIL-STD-1760 interface. Present weapons stations support only the Mk-46 and Mk-50 torpedoes, with an adapter required to interface with the Penguin missile. Making the aircraft 1760-capable will open the weapon possibilities. Maverick, Sidearm, air-to-air Stinger, and Standoff Land Attack Missile (SLAM) control pods could be folded into this new, digital armament system with a simple software change

While this is minor technical change, the result is an enormous increase in capability. With just a change of software in the black box brain of the Armed Helo a surface action group commander could see real-time FLIR imagery from a LAMPS III 50 miles away and then launch a Sea SLAM from any vertical launch system ship for control by the LAMPS III equipped with a SLAM control pod—courtesy of the -1760 weapon station. This raises command and control to a new level and does it all with organic helicopter assets—no fixed-wing support. If the arsenal ship concept is adopted, imagine a surface action group Aegis cruisers and destroyers—and an arsenal ship or two—and the firepower they could muster. Add an amphibious ready group and a Marine expeditionary unit and you have a very powerful brown-water force.

The Armed Helo program is replacing the present 7.62-mm M-60D machine gun with the .50 caliber GAU-16 to give air crews a better self-defense capability using a larger round at a greater range. The new gun will use a laser sight similar to those currently used by Navy SEALs; the weapons are being brought out of long-term storage, refurbished, and sent to the fleet. The Armed Helo’s off-the-shelf approach continues to increase capability and flexibility at minimal cost.

The LAMPS III Block-2 upgrade-the SH-60R, as it is better known—will get this capability because it is a conversion/service life extension program of current SH-60B airframe and systems. The flexibility of the upgraded armament system has enormous potential when coupled with the avionics upgrades coming in the SH-60R.

The SH-60R’s multimode radar may have a synthetic aperture mode. Consider a helicopter that could orbit miles off the coast, acquire an image of a radar contact, and pass global positioning system (GPS) targeting data down the data link to the LAMPS ship firing rocket-assisted, GPS-guided shells for Marines 30 miles inland. The Armed Helo is not just an upgrade; it is an investment for the future with the potential to support growth in both ship-based and air-launched weapons, sensors and tactics.

LAMPS helicopters have a 25-year history of evolving and adapting to provide increased capability to the fleet. They have not achieved this record by being Rambos or cowboys, but by being professional, forward-looking pioneers in tactical rotary-wing aviation. The LAMPS III community eagerly awaits the increased capabilities provided by the Armed Helo.

We don’t want to trade our Penguins for Hellfire. The fleet needs both of them.

Lieutenant Fitzgerald, a naval aviator, is an instructor with HSL-41 at Naval Air Station North Island, California, where he acts as the model manager for all SH-60B Fleet Readiness Training. He created the command's laser safety program and is a member of the Fleet Project Team established by the Naval Air Systems Command to address fleet introduction issues for the Armed Helo-Hellfire system.

How About a Library without Walls?

By Commander Robert Norris, U.S. Naval Reserve and Captain David West, U.S. Marine Corps

The naval service can join the vanguard of universities, industries, and governments now engaged in the monumental task of defining the scope and architecture of the world digital library— but must move quickly. Active participation at this stage can provide the service with a forum from which to shape the future, as well as a gateway to tremendous benefits.

On board an Aegis Cruiser in the Persian Gulf. . . Commander Mike Tryon, the ship’s supply officer, is responsible for hosting a delegation of locally Very Important People— all Muslims. His first action is to contact the Naval Service Digital Library (NSDL) Help Desk. He and the research librarian agree to divide their labor and he gets pointers to several cultural resource locations. After showing his best cook how to research menu options on-line, he spends two hours of intense research on the area’s history, culture, and traditions, tapping resources from the Library of Congress to the host country’s Cultural Affairs Web site.

While putting together a briefing for the commanding officer, he downloads the NSDL report, which contains biographical information and imagery of the ruling party, a collection of media excerpts, and lists national heroes, celebrities, and religious holidays. He notes that this week is the birthday of a Royal family heir and recommends that the skipper invite the young lad on board to celebrate. The mess puts together a blend of traditional and American food—the guests are dazzled. Sailors are given unprecedented access to the port city, lifelong friendships are begun, and the U.S. consulate sends a glowing report to the State Department. The next morning, Tryon uploads a copy of his research into the NSDL regional lessons-learned data base and secures for liberty.

The movement to create publicly accessible, electronically connected, re- source-sharing libraries finds its roots in the growing pains of the InterNet during the early 1990s. As the population of InterNet users and providers rapidly expanded in size, a substantial variance in expectations, capabilities, and needs arose—along with a collective sense of frustration with the limitations of existing information management technologies.

Despite its diversity and often conflicting objectives, the InterNet community collectively grasped that mere connectivity to electronic resources cannot guarantee utility or satisfaction. Without effective information management, the Information Superhighway will remain an unpaved dream. The search for an appropriate model upon which to base the enormous task of restructuring the world’s stockpiles of data resources uncovered the overlooked and unappreciated field of library science. Though a promising candidate, at issue was the adaptability of library technologies and practices from the realm of maintaining on-site collections of physical media to the management of remotely stored electronic resources.

While preliminary results from early digital library research projects confirmed that library science principles could be applied to the world of electronic media, they also identified a significant void in the capabilities of existing information- related technologies. In 1994, several countries, including the United States, committed their resources to numerous, large-scale, well-funded digital library initiatives; within months, hundreds— then thousands—of similar local-development projects joined in to bring yesterday’s academic, public, and private libraries into the 21st century. Each has self-motivated goals, but together they contribute to a worldwide movement that is expanding the horizon of technology and science.

The primary purpose of the Naval Service Digital Library will be to serve Navy and Marine personnel in their search for information that will solve problems, increase knowledge, and improve performance. Service members will gain unprecedented access to military, academic, research, and public domain sources of information. As an additional benefit, the library will be a repository for lessons-learned and a clearing house for late- breaking topics. The scenarios included in this article represent a small portion of the capacity such a system has to influence and enrich our lives.

On board an amphibious assault ship in the Mediterranean . . . Newly promoted Corporal Ben Banatz has been assigned the key billet of fire team leader, and must ensure that his Marines have completed or are enrolled in required Marine Corps Institute (MCI) courses. He visits the company clerk and they remotely access MCI, view each Marine’s record, and download course material and final exams. While online, Banatz queries the NSDL, requesting assistance in locating relevant sand table exercises and tactical scenarios. With help from a research librarian, he downloads recent tactical-decision games from the Marine Corps Gazette. That afternoon, his fire team conducts two sand table exercises and spends an hour working MCI courses.

The NSDL Librarian also leads him to a new data archive where he downloads recent lessons learned from units undergoing a combat readiness evaluation—all of which he forwards to his platoon sergeant. That week, his platoon receives a 30-minute brief in preparation for next month’s upcoming evaluation. The platoon leader notes this outstanding performance and schedules a leadership meeting to discuss his new corporal’s innovative approach to training.

Recognizing the distinction between data and information is crucial to comprehending the magnitude of the problems generated by world-wide connectivity. Data consist of facts and figures, stored in bulk, awaiting future use; they can be considered the raw material of information. The process of sifting through mounds of receipts (data) to isolate and extract an item of use (information) is sort of like doing your taxes—it can range in difficulty from tedious to impossible. Data overload can easily overwhelm. even smother, the process they support. InterNet users know that it is relatively simple to accumulate mounds of data, but that chasing down valuable information is a non-trivial task.