Teaching Military Ethics Within a "Moral Operating System"
By Lieutenant Commander John P. Patch, U.S. Navy
We arranged the classroom desks in a circle to avoid any semblance of a traditional old-school lecture hall. Ground rules promoted mutual respect for diverse opinions. A forthright overture requesting feedback, and criticism, from the students further relaxed the atmosphere. I was surprised to realize that this relationship worked both ways: I was learning, too.
The nurturing environment of a private, liberal arts university steeped in the Augustinian tradition guaranteed a student body with a zest for the fruits of philosophy, literature, the hard and soft sciences, and, yes, even theology. A recently received Chief of Naval Education and Training (CNET) text that related numerous real-life military ethics scenarios provided a sound basis for discussion. At the beginning of each class, I gave the students an opportunity to relate an ethics case and, more important, to provide their own personal analyses and opinions.
The preceding description of a senior year Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps (NROTC) "Leadership and Ethics" class was the result of new training priorities, proven teaching methodologies, several previous failed attempts (mine), and most important, the benefit of a "moral operating system" at the institutional and personal level. I am convinced that such a combination of critical thinking and baseline morals provided a recipe for success in teaching military ethics.
The old-school philosophy of ethics in the military seems to have followed that of the larger contemporary American society for the most part. Correct moral behavior was not celebrated; rather, it was expected. An individual's inherent awareness of what actually was right or wrong also was largely assumed. Finally, prevailing social forces—religious, patriotic, or otherwise enlightened—apparently compelled most to follow these common moral codes.
Disturbingly, as many modern ethics theorists have posited, American society—and its military microcosm—has shifted from universalistic morality toward a more self-centered relativistic ethos. The litany of ethical abuses highlighted in today's media and the increase in imposed organizational ethics regulations in recent years illustrate the problem. Generally speaking, as a group, Americans are not as concerned with justice in the classical sense as they were a few decades ago. Indeed, the apparent absence of an ingrained sense of morality and social justice in growing numbers of individuals illuminates the need to teach, practice, and expect fundamentally moral behavior, especially for those who hold the public trust.
To its credit, the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps have taken on this challenge in the past few years, but it is up to all leaders—active duty, retired, reserves, officers, enlisted—to bear the burden of teaching, practicing, and expecting as moral leaders. None of us, however, will be perfect in the ideal. A military career, just as life itself, is a journey of learning; those who learn the best theoretically will be rewarded with positions of authority wherein even greater capacity to teach, practice, and expect exists. Ideally, it is a perfect cyclical process; in reality, it is a bit less perfect. Still, it is surely a noble ideal to pursue, even if career aspirations are shunted by correct moral behavior. Herein lies the opportunity to infuse the military with its own moral operating system.
How has the Department of the Navy addressed this issue as an institution? Many readers no doubt have first-hand accounts of specific successes. On the junior officer level, I have observed several instances. The first requirement is to recognize that a problem actually exists. The second is to take a concrete approach to redress not just the symptoms (stiffer penalties and a zero-tolerance for ethical abuses), but the root causes of impropriety in office: the lack of a universal moral operating system.
At the officer accession level, for instance, a renewed and dynamic approach to teaching ethics to senior Navy and Marine Corps midshipmen, if applied with honest enthusiasm, critical thinking, and leadership-by-example, stands a good chance of success. Officers, of course, upon commissioning are instantly authorized to teach, practice, and expect; through four years of instruction, midshipmen first have the opportunity to learn.
Standardized NROTC and Naval Academy instruction during the second semester of senior year now involves an effective new text, intellectually challenging teaching methodologies and media, and improved critical-thinking for a rote memorization of leadership principles has been replaced by student led discussions, group debates, ethics videos, case studies, and role-playing all ungraded. In addition, senior officers have become more involved in the teaching side of the equation. Surely their input can infuse the process with realism as they provide the unique insight of those that who gone before.
Naturally, the instructors have something of their own to add, but imagine a classroom wherein the presence of the commanding or executive officer is not a rare experience. Retired or reserve senior and flag officers also can provide a wealth of experience and guidance in applying ethical real-life situations. CNET also has capitalized on a body of modern teaching methodologies that embraces an open and supportive educational environment. Relatively junior officers now find themselves acting as innovative facilitators for critical group and individual thinking aimed at cooperative learning.
The senior-year course focuses on the ends of leadership. For some midshipmen it is in fact the first time that they have considered their true purpose as officers. Cooperative learning efforts are time-proven methods that provide the opportunity for involved, deeply personal examinations of issues. Indeed, the new CNET course has the potential to become a most satisfying experience for students, instructors, and senior officers alike. During a discussion on the propriety of using government vehicles to run personal errands, I recall a midshipman reasoning that, since "all the junior officers during midshipman summer cruise did it—so why not?" At first. I was disappointed by what I perceived as his lack of judgment; later, he confided that he simply had never had the opportunity to "give it much thought," following instead the example from more senior individuals. Big surprise.
I found that these new instructional approaches provided the forum for serious critical thinking, allowing abstract ethical principles to be applied to practical everyday situations that the midshipmen might actually encounter in the fleet. This new CNET-led approach is a refreshing way to address a difficult issue. Inculcating a moral operating system, however, is a challenging task for leadership and ethics instructors; I found that elaborating on some of my own ethical dilemmas and mistakes to the midshipmen proved to be a good opener.
Another attempt in recent years to focus new service members on ethical issues lies in the seemingly simple, but critical concept of the core values: honor, courage, and commitment. If lip service is paid to these virtues, they will go unheeded up and down the chain of command. If they are incorporated into all levels of the chain, by way of teaching, practicing, and expecting, they can go a long way toward shaping a moral operating system. This is easier said than done, especially with the destructive impact of "Do as I say, not as I do," fleet leadership. General Charles Krulak, former Commandant of the Marine Corps, appears to be one of the few senior military leaders who delivered the core values message effectively, and then followed up his rhetoric with action.
Although we never approached perfection at Villanova University's NROTC unit, we did have a few small victories that made a difference. I recall one Performance Review Board where a freshman midshipman was made to stand tall in front of an intimidating U.S. Marine Corps lieutenant colonel for an instance of cheating (copying a homework assignment during class) that was brought to the attention of the freshman instructor/advisor by a university faculty member. I remember having a sense of the utmost respect for the professor as he made an emotional statement about his dismay upon finding out that his previous discussion with the NROTC staff could result in the midshipman's disenrollment from the NROTC program. The professor had brought up the issue with the staff only because he was so disturbed by such behavior from an otherwise talented and enthusiastic student. He went on to state that he had a newfound respect for the U.S. Navy as an institution, somewhat rare among academics, not only because of the gravity placed upon the infraction, but the dedication with which the staff pursued the moral development of "our" midshipmen.
I still feel very lucky indeed to be associated with, and to have benefited from, the very real moral operating system present at that particular university. I hope that other NROTC units benefit similarly from such a positive learning environment. Close to tears as he listened to the board's verdict, the 18-year-old midshipman got another chance: he had to admit his failing in front of the entire battalion of midshipmen during the next drill period in a very poignant way. He also lost a year's scholarship money for his error. Although blemished, he has demonstrated a renewed resolve to earn the right to wear the Navy uniform again. My prediction is that he will make his parents, his school, and his country very proud of him in the future.
The experience stands in my mind as one of effective teaching, practicing, and expecting moral responsibility. Certainly it provided an opportunity for that midshipman to do some serious soul-searching as regards ethics. Moreover, it provided an occasion for the rest of the midshipmen in the battalion to do the same, bringing to mind their own personal shortcomings.
Critical thinking, group discussion, practical case-study applications, and perhaps a personal reevaluation of one's own moral operating system became a standard part of the four-year NROTC/Naval Academy course of instruction recently. Kudos belong to those responsible for implementing this crucial curriculum change. In addition, the recently instituted Navy-wide "Leadership Continuum" appears to be a good attempt to provide an ongoing forum for ethical issues after commissioning.
Now, the challenge is placed squarely upon all the rest of us to teach, to practice, and to expect. We all can help to develop a military moral operating system.
Lieutenant Commander Patch is a Naval Intelligence officer with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Commissioned from the Villanova University NROTC unit, he qualified as a surface warfare officer and taught ethics and leadership to midshipmen first class at his alma mater from 1994 to 1996.
Where Are the [Experimental] Dreadnoughts?
By James L. George
Although it has been more than a decade since the demise of the old Soviet Union, there is still considerable confusion about exactly what this new post-Cold War era will look like. One thing, however, seems rather clear: While there will be constant crises and perhaps even the occasional major regional conflict, there will be no old Soviet-like major power threats for many years.
Even the Pentagon believes that no major power "peer competitor" will appear until at least 2015. We are, in short, in another interwar period.
This should have major implications for warship and airplane designers. Now is the time to experiment with new designs to include building prototypes. With no major threats on the horizon requiring large classes of warships and planes, now is the time to build some experimental dreadnoughts, by which I do not necessarily mean all behemoth types such as the original battleship HMS Dreadnought, but rather, metaphorically, truly different designs, that, as the saying sometimes went, "made all else obsolete."
Historically, interwar periods have been times for experimentation. The greatest advances in naval warship development were made in Great Britain from the end of the Crimean War and, in the United States, from the end of the Civil War, to around 1890. While it is true that this period coincided with major advances in machinery, gunnery, armor, and with the development of new weapons like torpedoes, nations were able to experiment because it was also an interwar era.
The era was filled with one-of-a-kinds that never could have been constructed under the pressures of building fleets for war. By 1890, the experimenting had slowed and large classes were begun, but that changed again in 1906 with the building of the Dreadnought—which brought on more new types until World War I broke out. The period between the World Wars also saw great experimentation, especially in naval aviation. Even in the brief five-year period between World War II and the Korean War, the U.S. Navy built some interesting new types.
Yet today, even though we have another interwar period of opportunity, there are no truly different or experimental types on the horizon for the U.S. Navy. The arsenal ship proposal was attempt, but it was deep-six'ed. Today, the most interesting experiments in ship designs are being conducted not by the world's only remaining major sea power, but by the minor navies of the world.
There are several reasons for the lack of new, experimental types. The severe budget and time constraints are externally imposed and quite serious, but others are self-imposed: the "one size fits all" approach; fear of failure; bureaucratic conservatism; and the ever-present parochialism.
First comes money. That was the main problem during the period between the two World Wars, which included a major economic depression, yet somehow the Navy found a way to build new types. It was during this period that the greatest advances were made in naval aviation; there was similar progress in machinery, weaponry, and the development of electronic warfare in the 1930s. Even in the post-World War II 1940s—certainly one of the low points in U.S. naval budget history, which helped trigger the "Admirals' Revolt"—the Navy started some new, experimental types. In short, it is a matter of setting priorities.
Next is the amount of time required to complete hardware programs. The General Accounting Office has estimated that it takes about 23 years to get a new idea from drawing board to deployment. Thus something started now would not appear until the 2020s, just when a major-- power threat might appear requiring series production. There are three possible solutions:
- With a truly different dreadnought approach, there would be no need to solve all problems with a one-size-fits-all solution.
- A skunk-works approach would preclude interference from the normal bureaucracy, including, incidentally, the congressional pork-barrel crowd, and field equipment much faster. Lockheed's famous SR-71 Blackbird, still our fastest, highest-flying airplane, was built in about two years—and that was in the slide-rule days. The advanced short take-off and vertical landing (ASTOVL) airplane which could be broken out from the more restrictive Joint Chiefs of Staff program is a candidate for such an approach.
- Finally, while completely new types such as an experimental strike cruiser or a fat, deep-diving submarine would take years, simpler ideas and conversions, perhaps with allied assistance, could be completed faster.
For a variety of reasons the military has backed itself into a one-size-must-fit-- all mentality that tries to solve each and every problem with a single design. Unfortunately, the approach causes major delays. The current examples are the Joint Strike Fighter (JSF) for the Air Force, Navy, and Marine Corps, and the Navy's surface combatant for the 21st century (SC-21/DD-21) program.
Trying to fit all requirements from a stealthy fighter, to an attack plane, to an ASTOVL mode into one airframe or trying to find a common design for a whole family of ships is most definitely time consuming. Both the JSF and DD-21 programs date to the early 1990s and neither will see the light of day much before 2010—if then. Some of these notions, for example an ASTOVL plane, seem ripe to be taken out of their current programs for development in a skunk works, experimental environment.
Compounding the problems associated with the one-size-must-fit-all mentality is fear of failure, which stems from the understandable concern that, if you are going to build only one class, it had better be good. After all, if you commit to building 2,000-odd JSFs or to replacing all your frigates, destroyers, and cruisers with one family, a major mistake would be disastrous. Building some experimental, real prototype dreadnoughts could assuage such fears.
This would be a real plus because, if history is any guide, mistakes are going to be made. The reason there were so many one-of-a-kinds between 1860 and 1890 is that most were failures. The Captain, an early turret ship completed in 1871, had such a faulty design that she capsized, taking most of her crew as well as her designer to their deaths. During the World War I-II interwar period, many experiments failed: submarines carrying aircraft, cruiser submarines with large eight-inch guns, the aircraft-carrying airships Akron and Macon. The first U.S. carrier built from the keel up, the USS Ranger (CV-4), was designed almost without operational experience and was considered a failure because she was too small.
The first surface combatants designed after World War II, the four Mitscher (DL-2)-class 3,675-ton destroyer leaders and especially the large (5,600 tons), single Norfolk (DL-1), were all considered failures.
Nevertheless, they taught some important lessons. Others were not necessarily failures, but one-of-a-kinds built as necessary first steps. The nuclear-powered submarine Nautilus (SSN-571), the first vessel in history to get "Underway on nuclear power," falls into that category. Although never considered a first line combatant, the Nautilus was that crucial first step for all the nuclear-powered submarines that followed. The one-of-a-kind nuclear-powered cruiser Long Beach (CGN-9) also falls into this category. Sometimes considered an expensive white elephant, she was still a useful test-bed for later nuclear-powered cruisers. The Soviet Union's fast, deep-diving Alpha submarines remained in commission only a few years, but, again, provided much useful information.
The point is that building a few experimental dreadnoughts would shift the U.S. Navy away from the current approach of trying to solve every problem with one design. More important, an experimental ship, could, like the Nautilus, be the necessary test-bed for the future. In addition, just the threat of building a dreadnought can be effective. Most analysts agree that President Ronald Reagan's decision to pursue a defense against intercontinental ballistic missiles using the Strategic Defense Initiative was the proverbial last straw for the old Soviet Union that found it could no longer compete.
Finally, compounding today's one-size-must-fit-all criteria and fear of what failure can do to one's naval career is the normal bureaucratic conservatism of any large organization. If the Navy is going to build only one family, everyone, including the Congress, wants to have an input. When it comes to a multiservice program like the JSF, the problem is even worse. If one decides to build only a single experimental dreadnought, however, the number of required approvals should be fewer and congressmen from states X and Y may not fuss so much if that single ship is built in state Z.
There remains another problem for the Navy: parochialism. Two present-day examples illustrate its dimensions.
- Air-independent propulsion (AIP) for submarines
- Ski-jumps for big-deck amphibious ships and carriers
These ideas evoke visceral, negative actions from the U.S. Navy submarine and aviation communities, yet both unquestionably are promising and should at least be explored with prototypes.
Some Suggestions
Today, the small Royal Swedish Navy might be considered the most innovative in the world. Besides the service's operational AIP submarines, it is building the multirole, very stealthy Visby-class corvette. The even smaller Norwegian Navy has recently completed a new class of surface effect ships (SES)—the Alta-class minesweepers—and is building a class of SES fast patrol boats. The French Navy is building stealthy Lafayette-class frigates, for its own fleet and export. The Royal Navy is looking at building a trimaran demonstrator as a future escort.
The old Soviet Navy, despite its sometimes stodgy reputation, was often in the forefront with not just different designs for destroyers, cruisers, submarines and amphibious ships, but completely new concepts such as the Wing-In-- Ground (WIG) Effect sea-skimming aircraft and large seagoing air-cushion vehicles. Now is the time for the U.S. Navy to take a look at some of these notions.
A host of inexpensive candidates could be considered. Two low-cost, truly experimental conversions provide examples:
- Fit one of the Tarawa (LHA-1)/Wasp (LHD-1) amphibious assault ships with a ski-jump. Out of 12 large amphibious assault ships, surely one can be used to conduct experimental ski-jump flight operations. This also would fit in nicely with experimenting for the new CVX and ASTOVL programs.
- Convert one of the retiring Oliver Hazard Perry (FFG-7)-class frigates or one of the Spruance (DD-63)-class destroyers into amphibious fast-attack transports (APDs). Either class can embark two helicopters, which would make them perfect as Marine Force Reconnaissance/Navy SEAL carriers. The original APDs were converted destroyers and destroyer escorts. APD-7s and APD-963s also would give the amphibious ready groups limited antisubmarine warfare protection; an APD-963 with her two five-- inch guns would provide much needed gunfire support.
Another low-cost idea would be to work more closely with some of our allies. Although it might not be worthwhile for the United States to build even an experimental AIP submarine, why not purchase one abroad and evaluate it?
More important, however, would be some newer types. The canceled arsenal ship probably would have been a perfect candidate. I would like to see a strike cruiser and an experimental Alfa submarine. The cruiser could be the test-bed for all the latest missile, gunnery, and command, control, communications, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (C4ISR) gadgetry fitted out as a flagship which the fleets need. Like the original Soviet Alfa submarine, the U.S. Navy variant should be a test-bed for a fast, deep-diving submarine. At the other end of the spectrum might be a stealthy corvette/smaller frigate that would help us garner some of the lucrative export market.
Now would be a good time to look at some radical proposals, such as the small waterplane twin-hull (SWATH) frigates and carriers that have been proposed over the years. Although the U.S. Navy did build a fleet of hydrofoil patrol boats (PHMs) in the early 1980s, now might be time for a second look. While the PHMs were not deemed appropriate for the then-blue-water U.S. Navy, they might be useful for littoral warfare in places like the confined Persian Gulf. Larger air-cushion ships might be investigated—perhaps even the Soviet WIG concept. And, the list goes on.
Experimental aircraft also should be considered. As noted, an ASTOVL craft would seem to be a perfect candidate; it might have major implications for the future if we truly are seeing the end of large-deck carrier construction with CVN-77. Another might be a low-cost attack aircraft in the A-4 and A-7 tradition. Even the stealthy A- 12 program might be revisited as an experimental program as might a truly sophisticated stealthy fighter. Someone else might come up with another list. The point is: There are probably plenty of other candidates.
The U.S. Navy is no slouch when it comes to new developments, and in certain areas such as electronics, missilery, and gunnery, there are exciting new developments on the horizon. In the important electronics arena, which many analysts now consider as important, perhaps even more important, than weaponry per se, the United States is the undisputed leader. But, worried about building large classes of ships and airplanes, that same excitement might be missing for new surface combatant ship and airplane designs. The cancellation of the proposed arsenal ship leaves the U.S. Navy with only the small Sea Shadow stealth craft that, while interesting, is not a real test bed for an operational warship.
Obviously, not all of these suggestions can be built, but consideration could be given for at least one new conversion experiment, such as adding a ski-jump to one LHD, and one experimental program with allies, with AIP submarines a possibility. Both could be completed with minimal costs in a short time. The Navy should also pick one completely new experimental plane and surface combatant; ASTOVL is the most likely candidate for the plane and then one of the warships mentioned.
One thing does seem certain. It would truly be a shame to look back in 2022 when building large classes might be necessary against a new, sophisticated, enemy and regret that some more experiments were not conducted during this relatively peaceful interwar period. Now is the time to build some dreadnoughts.
James L. George wrote History of Warships, recently published by the Naval Institute Press.
JFACC and the Navy: Something Is Missing
By Captain Robert L. King, U.S. Navy (Retired) and James C. Wilson
The story of what the Navy did well—and not so well—in Operation Desert Shield-Desert Storm has been told and retold. It is clear that we learned many lessons and acted on most of them. Regarding interaction with the joint force air component commander (JFACC), however, we have fallen short. The result: In the next large operation involving air strikes, a mostly U.S. Air Force staff will make decisions on the employment of theater air resources with limited Navy input. A more deliberate approach, using a group analogous to the U.S. Army's Battlefield Coordination Detachment, would improve the process.
We have made progress. Gone are the days of delivering hard copy air tasking orders (ATOs) to the carrier by helicopter. The Navy now has a variety of paths available for delivering an ATO electronically, and the ability to parse the data to make it easier to use. Naval officers and enlisted personnel attend specialized Air Force schools in things JFACC, and the Navy has developed its own courses on the subject. It has installed equipment to support JFACCs on board carriers and command ships, for use if shore facilities are not immediately available. It has conducted joint exercises with fully functioning afloat JFACC organizations, and has even experimented with other ways to generate ATOs, using prototype NATO equipment.
On the organizational side, the Navy has designated flyaway staffs to serve as the core of expeditionary JFACC units, one active duty on the West Coast and one reserve on the East Coast. These staffs get extra training to enable them to move in and set up quickly. Battle groups in general have become attuned to the new way of operating; their staffs run or participate in targeting boards, and routinely generate daily ATOs.
As important as these specifics has been the change in mind-set, from an expectation that the Navy would be on its own in most operations, to a recognition that the other services will be involved in anything but small, non-combat evolutions. At a minimum, Air Force tankers, airborne early warning, and reconnaissance aircraft will participate in any strikes, with Air Force tactical aircraft participation virtually certain. Given all this progress, what's the problem? What is missing? Simply stated, the Navy has not prepared as well to be the supporting service in a major campaign where the joint air operations center (JAOC) would be staffed predominately by Air Force personnel. The Navy would, of course, offer up liaison officers from air wings involved in the operation, to ensure that the peculiarities of naval aircraft and carrier operations were taken into account in strike plans. It would also provide a liaison officer to look after the battle group's bigger picture interests—at least a captain—to have any influence on the daily JFACC deliberations.
In the end, however, the result would be a small ad-hoc group, with varying levels of training and experience. There would be barely enough time in the day to plan, participate in meetings, and make phone calls, let alone prepare the obligatory PowerPoint slides. Little time or energy would be left to work the Navy's theater issues with the JFACC and his staff, helping them to understand the maritime component commander's needs and providing direct assistance in preparing and executing the ATO.
The Army faced a similar problem in the early 1980s and created organizations known as battlefield coordination detachments (BCDs) as the solution. These are standing organizations, which exercise regularly with the numbered air forces and fall in on an air operations center (AOC) or joint air operations center for any major operation involving Army forces. Two of the detachments are assigned to standing AOCs. A third detachment at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, supports contingency operations in the Atlantic Command, Southern Command, and Central Command areas of responsibility. The fourth, a reserve unit, supports contingencies in the Pacific.
Battlefield coordination detachments are Army liaison units provided by the Army component commander to the AOC to coordinate air and land operations. Members process Army requests for tactical air support, monitor and interpret the land battle for the AOC, and help in the exchange of intelligence and operational data. A formal memorandum of agreement between the Army and Air Force outlines the responsibilities of a BCD and its host AOC.
The Navy's situation differs from the Army's in that the Navy is a significant provider of air forces to the JFACC and depends less on the JFACC for support of its maritime missions than does the Army for its land missions. But the Army and Navy have the same general need to smooth the flow of information to and from the JFACC, and to provide input on how best to employ theater air and air defense assets to meet the joint force commander's objectives.
We propose establishing maritime coordination detachments. These MCDs, for lack of a catchier name, would take advantage both of the parallels between Army and Navy needs for representation, and of the Air Force's familiarity with the Army concept. Like an Army detachment, a maritime detachment would arrive at a joint air operations center as a trained team. Unlike an Army detachment, however, a maritime detachment would have both a liaison element and an augmentee element. The liaison element would be built around the battle group liaison officers normally sent, and the augmentee element would ease the additional workload generated by naval aircraft, ships, and submarines. The resulting detachment would represent specific battle group interests and capabilities, as well as provide more general support in employment of naval aircraft and surface-to-air missile ships.
One other similarity between the Army and Navy detachments bears mentioning: air space deconfliction for missile strikes. The Army BCD coordinates Army Tactical Missile System missions on the ATO and deconflicts airspace. The Navy's Tomahawk Land Attack Missile, which also requires coordination and deconfliction, prompts a need for representation by the surface and submarine communities. Although the joint force commander, not the JFACC, will make many of the actual Tomahawk employment decisions, Tomahawks probably will be part of major strikes.
With the Navy getting smaller, creating a new staff sounds like an idea without a future. A closer look, however, suggests some possibilities. For one thing, many of the individuals in a maritime detachment would have the same kinds of expertise as those in a flyaway JFACC. There is no inherent conflict in dual-hatting people between the two organizations: The flyaway JFACC is designed to be first on scene in a growing conflict, whereas the maritime detachments would be used in a larger, land-based joint air operations center later in the buildup.
Any maritime coordination detachment, however, would be more than just today's flyaway JFACC with a different name. The two organizations perform different functions, and would require different training, even if the core skills and most of the people are the same. A flyaway JFACC trains as a kernel around which a joint but heavily naval organization would be built. By contrast, a maritime coordination detachment would train in an Air Force-dominated joint air operations center environment, both to become familiar with that environment and to accustom Air Force staffs to working with Navy detachments as standing, viable units, just as they have with Army detachments. Battle group liaison officers would join this core of expertise to fill out a maritime coordination detachment involved in an actual operation.
What will the Navy do when the next big conflict comes along—ask for volunteers and hope for the best? Maritime coordination detachments would do a much better job of supporting the JFACC and representing the Navy. The combination of sufficient manpower to do the whole job, regular training in the Air Force air operations center environment, and the team cohesion of an established unit will guarantee it.
Captain King, a naval aviator, was the Director of Training of Tactical Training Group Atlantic prior to his retirement last month. Mr. Wilson is the Center for Naval Analyses representative assigned to Tactical Training Group Atlantic.