We have started naming our warships—particularly our most potent ones—after all the wrong things. To the nation at large, the Navy is known by its ships. Our choices, therefore, must be both judicious and appropriate.
In a few months, the Navy and the administration will have the opportunity to pick a name for our nation's latest capital ship, CVN-77. With political interests to be satisfied, elections to be influenced, debts to be paid, and injustices to be righted, the choice undoubtedly will be ... wrong.
Our Heritage
Our British naval forefathers gave us many fine traditions. The system for naming our vessels used to be one of them. The largest British capital ships draw their names from former ships, and generally they are meant to inspire. This includes such fine names for vessels as Invincible, Ark Royal, and Illustrious. Smaller classes of ships are named after countries, or begin with a common letter. What naval enthusiast didn't admire the names of the Tribal-class destroyers of World War II (Zulu, Ashanti, Maori) or the Colony-class cruisers, whose names conjured up images of a far-flung empire (Jamaica, Uganda, Trinidad)? More recently, naval heroes have lent their names to British warships—Howe, Rodney, Nelson—proud names with the tradition of the sea behind them.
The Good Old Days
As the U.S. Navy grew to prominence at the turn of the century, our nomenclature for ships began to take shape. At first, the largest capital ships—the armored cruisers—were named after cities. When the battleship came to the fore, we began naming battleships after states and cruisers after cities. We strayed once (Kearsarge [BB-5]), and there must have been political pressure to see that the constituents of New York were satisfied as well as those in Pennsylvania and Ohio, but generally the system worked. We believed that young men would want to serve on the ships named after their home cities or states.
Lesser ships had their own systems—destroyers for heroes (naval and otherwise), submarines for fish.
At the end of World War I, new classes of ships emerged. First came the battlecruisers. Fast and powerful, they were to be named after battles. Shortly afterward came the aircraft carriers. The Langley (CV-1), converted from the collier Jupiter, was named for an architect of flight. But when the Washington Naval Treaties forced the ill-starred battlecruisers to be either scrapped or turned into aircraft carriers, those that survived brought along their battle names—the Lexington (CV-2) and Saratoga (CV-3)—and a tradition was started. Almost.
The next carrier, the Ranger (CV-4), honored a previous naval vessel. The alternating pattern continued with the Yorktown (CV-5)—named after a battle—and the Enterprise (CV-6), Hornet (CV-8), and Wasp (CV-7)—which honored ships—and into the Essex (CV-9) class. For the plethora of carrier names chosen during World War II, the Navy more or less conformed to this schizophrenic pattern. There was one exception—the Shangri La (CV-38)—but its mellifluous sound and roots in the Doolittle raid argued in its favor.
Meanwhile, battleship and cruiser names were geographic; submarines swam silently; and the list of names for destroyers and escorts ran long and honorable.
At the end of the war, however, as the three largest carriers ever built were being commissioned, a tradition-breaking event took place. The class that was to commemorate the great sea battles of World War II—including the Midway (CVB-41) and Coral Sea (CVB-43)—had a sister named after the recently deceased President, Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVB-42). The crack had opened.
The Confusion Begins
The fleet assembled during World War II would last well into the 1960s. Other ships would be built, but not in such numbers. Fewer hulls meant that names, particularly those of the largest and most visible warships, would have to be doled out wisely. Right from the start of the post-World War II building program, confusion set in. The first escort ship was named not after a hero but after a city (Norfolk [DL-1]), and not just any city-the headquarters of the Atlantic Fleet. The first carrier was to be named United States, though she would never sail. Cities started popping up everywhere-escorts, amphibious landing docks, refrigerated stores ships. The next carrier, the Forrestal (CVA-59), honored the first Secretary of Defense, and the door to chaos opened a little wider.
After the Forrestal, tradition began to reassert itself. The carriers Saratoga (CVA-60), Ranger (CVA-61), Independence (CVA-62), Kitty Hawk (CVA-63), Constellation (CVA-64), Enterprise (CVAN-65), and America (CVA-66) emerged to project U.S. naval power. The early amphibious helicopter carriers commemorated Marine Corps victories—Iwo Jima (LPH-2), Okinawa (LPH-3), Guadalcanal (LPH-7), and the Tarawas (LHAs 1-5).
Destroyers—which were growing to cruiser-like dimensions—still adhered to a system of hero names. No cruisers came on line in the first Cold War years, but when one was built in the late 1950s, she was named for a city, Long Beach (CGN-9). Attack submarines still were named after fish, but ballistic-missile boats honored famous men from U.S. history, some of whom were not American.
The Rules Go Out the Window
As the last conventional carriers were being constructed, a tragic event shook the nation—the death of John F. Kennedy. The slain President was memorialized in CVA67, and the string of carrier names that had started with CVA-60 was broken. Then, in the early 1970s, the name Nimitz was chosen for the lead ship (CVAN-68) of a new carrier class, to honor a naval hero of World War II.
In other warship regimes, things were even more confusing. What had been DLG frigates (the Leahy [DLG16/CG-16] and Belknap [DLG-26/CG-26] classes) were redesignated as cruisers, bringing their naming scheme with them. The nuclear-powered cruisers built to escort the Nimitz-class carriers were named after states. Then, the new Aegis cruisers took the names of battles, staking out many names that previously had belonged to aircraft carriers—except for the Thomas S. Gates (CG-51), inexplicably named after a former Secretary of Defense.
The desire to build political consensus by targeting a location or group for attention continued to grow. Submarines, long the most consistently named warships, first embraced politicians (Mendel Rivers [SSN-686], Richard B. Russell [SSN-687], and William H. Bates [SSN-680]) and then cities in the Los Angeles (SSN-688) class (except for the Hyman G. Rickover [SSN-709]). Ballistic missile submarines switched from patriots to states, except for one whose name was changed to commemorate a politician, the Henry M. Jackson (SSBN-730). The politicians honored were those with long histories of patronage of the defense budget. The word was out—be among the biggest backers of defense and you can have a U.S. warship named for you.
The submarines of the new Seawolf (SSN-21)-class are named after a fish, a state, and a former U.S. President. Eight different types of ships—cruisers, attack submarines, amphibious transport docks, amphibious cargo ships, dock landing ships, replenishment oilers, fast combat support ships, refrigerated stores ships—were named after cities. For aircraft carriers, politicians picked Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69), Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-7 1), Abraham Lincoln (CVN-72), and George Washington (CVN-73)—worthy heroes all—but also Harry S. Truman (CVN-75), Carl Vinson (CVN-70), and John C. Stennis (CVN-74). Truman led the administration that wanted to eliminate naval aviation. And how many sailors know who Carl Vinson or John Stennis were? Political expediency rules.
Clearly, we have lost our way.
Here We Go Again
More than any other weapon system, the aircraft carrier is the focus of media attention. When a crisis occurs, it is the most visible expression of U.S. military might. The press reports will detail the Theodore Roosevelt battle group's movements, or the operations of the John C. Stennis and her escorts, with little mention of the other ships of the battle group. Such is the power and prominence of our carriers.
There are plans in place for the construction of aircraft carriers well into the next century; we must choose their names wisely. We could honor former presidents. Although political in nature, this at least would honor those elected by a majority of the nation's voters. In 2013 or so, the Enterprise will decommission. It would be fitting to carry on her name. Constellation, Kitty Hawk, Lexington, Saratoga, Midway, and Coral Sea also will be—or already are—available. They evoke images of valor and a proud history; let's use them.
State and city names are good choices when appropriate—for submarines or cruisers, for example—but the Navy should use them consistently.
And finally, let the politicians be honored in the districts they so admirably represented. It is there that their legacy belongs.
Commander Bouchoux is an associate partner and manager of operations analysis at Whitney, Bradley & Brown in northern Virginia. He served 22 years in the Navy and retired from the Naval Air Systems Command in August 1990.