Sail Ho or Sail No?
(See A. Pine, pp. 66–70, October 2011 Proceedings)
Lieutenant Brian Boland, U.S. Coast Guard—Mr. Pine brings to the surface a serious issue at our nation’s maritime academies. Sail training is indeed the finest leadership laboratory for cadets and midshipmen who will take to the sea upon commissioning. Its more practical application of real-world lessons cannot be understated, either.
As a newly commissioned ensign, I brought with me four years of varsity offshore sailing experience gained at the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. Not more than a month after reporting aboard, I found myself under way in the North Atlantic in early fall. While on the bridge as a deck watch officer in training, we came across a 32-foot sloop that appeared to be struggling along toward the East Coast. Her sails were not trimmed correctly, lines were in disarray on her deck, and the vessel was not making any headway.
I knew, based entirely on my experiences from sailing at the collegiate level, that this sailboat was in trouble. My commanding officer was not convinced, and the officer of the day and I were directed to continue past the sailboat. Thanks to support from the OOD, I again pressed the commanding officer to investigate the sailboat. Reluctantly, the rigid-hull inflatable was launched with a boarding team to appease my nagging.
They soon found one older gentleman on board who was in an advanced stage of diabetic shock, having been unable to eat or drink for several days. The sailor was in such a condition that a Coast Guard H-60 was quickly launched to medevac the man from his boat to a hospital in Massachusetts.
As the sun was fading, this left us in the precarious position of having to tow a sailboat at night in quartering seas. I quickly volunteered to sail his boat roughly 100 miles back to Cape Cod. My roommate, recognizing the adventure at hand, also volunteered. The two of us then set off for a long night. My roommate, a talented football player and classmate from the Academy, promptly got seasick and fell asleep. After 24 hours under sail, we safely delivered the boat at Provincetown. It was my time spent sailing that likely saved this man’s life and his boat.
In our current austere fiscal times, budget cuts are no doubt a necessity. But the last time I checked, soccer balls, baseball gloves, and football helmets don’t have a practical application in our chosen profession, nor do they directly contribute to lessons in seamanship. Sailing at a maritime academy places young men and women in tough circumstances where they will experience thrills and danger in a wet, cold, and sleep-deprived environment. These are the exact same conditions they will face as junior officers. No classroom can properly duplicate this environment. If cuts are necessary, sailing is the last place we should look.
Lieutenant Commander Kristian B. Barton, Civil Engineer Corps, U.S. Navy—I couldn’t agree more with Mr. Pine’s assertion that the maritime services, and ultimately the nation, will be poorly served by “reducing sail,” i.e., cutting funds and programs for training future seagoing officers on board sailing vessels. Admittedly, as a Civil Engineer Corps officer, I am a “landsman” (in Patrick O’Brian’s parlance), but I am also a relatively experienced small-craft sailor, having grown up plying the Great Lakes on board my family’s sloop. At an early age, I learned boat-handling and seamanship skills, navigation, watchstanding, maintenance, and dealing with inclement weather such as the sudden and often violent storms characteristic of the Great Lakes.
The experience resulted in my becoming a mature, responsible mariner with a profound respect and appreciation for the forces of nature and the folly of complacency. Several seasons of “around-the-can” racing in Lake Huron reinforced the value of teamwork and gave me an appreciation for how fast things happen on sailboats, despite the fact that we might only be moving along at a stately five or seven knots.
These skills served me well years later in Officer Candidate School courses in seamanship and navigation; training on board YPs in Pensacola Bay was perhaps less intimidating than it might have been to someone with little or no prior experience on the water. As a young ensign at Naval Submarine Base New London, in Groton, Connecticut, I can clearly remember watching cadets from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy sailing their small keelboats on the Thames River, even in February. I had the privilege of organizing a wardroom tour on board the Coast Guard Academy’s 295-foot barque, the USCGC Eagle (WIX-327). I wish I had even a fraction of the formal sail training that students at the maritime service academies enjoy. While I don’t have need of these particular skills in my professional capacity today, I use them on the Chesapeake Bay in my off-duty time as the self-appointed CO/NAV/CHENG/1st LT of my own 27-foot sloop. I can only imagine how enriching this training is for future surface warfare officers, cuttermen, and deck officers.
The Maritime Domain Awareness Conundrum
(See E. C. Jones and J. E. Vorbach III, pp. 28–33, October 2011 Proceedings)
Norman Polmar, former chairman, Science and Technology Advisory Committee, Department of Homeland Security—Many people would take issue with the authors’ statement that “it is a reasonable extrapolation to suggest that [semi-submersibles] could be used to smuggle weapons of mass destruction, transnational criminals, and other illicit materials.”
Accepting that terrorist organizations have limited materials for weapons of mass destruction—especially nuclear—would their executives risk those materials or key personnel in a semi-submersible that
• has a significant possibility of being intercepted
• cannot communicate with the executives for several weeks
• could have navigation problems, encounter storms, etc.
• must transfer the material or personnel at sea to a small craft for the run-in to the beach (probably in Mexico).
The small craft or, more likely, a land route must then be used to actually bring the material or personnel into the United States.
Such a high-risk route is certainly acceptable for bringing 4 or 12 tons of cocaine into the United States; even if only a quarter or a fifth of that dispatched cargo reaches U.S. markets, a huge profit is made. But is this risk acceptable for limited materials or key personnel available to terrorists?
A Different Age, A Different Navy, A Familiar Dilemma
(See S. B. Munsch, pp. 8–9, October 2011 Proceedings)
James Ulry—There is tension between creating a flexible force structure and matching means to ends. The only way to find an agreeable equilibrium is through clear strategic thinking. In an era of tight fiscal budgets, where fewer bets can be hedged and risks must be taken, the need is even greater. As Captain Munsch’s article demonstrates, the study of history is a great place to start. While no two periods are identical, the factors that affect strategy are remarkably recurrent. As long as the study generates questions, and the context of the period under study is kept in mind, there is much to be learned.
Instead of viewing this current period of fiscal restraint as one to endure, it should be embraced as an opportunity for a new era in strategic thinking, planning, and preparation. The opportunity is not just for the Navy but all the services, for what is needed isn’t only the correct naval force structure but the right force structure for the country.
This is not another call for jointness; rather, it is an invitation for true unified thinking, planning, acquisition, training, and execution. As a service with rich history and experience, the Navy should show its maturity and confidence in itself by leading the way, leaving behind parochial thinking. As in other aspects, the citizens of this country want bold answers to achieve long-term solutions to current problems. Will the Navy answer the call?
Is Naval Aviation Culture Dead?
(See J. Lehman, pp. 40–46, September 2011; and T. A. Davis, p. 6, October 2011 Proceedings)
Vice Admiral Robert F. Dunn, U.S. Navy (Retired), president, Naval Historical Foundation—Secretary Lehman’s article is well written and describes the past environment accurately. That, in fact, is the problem: It describes yesteryear and touches on how we got to where we are today. Unfortunately, it also smacks of “They didn’t do it that way in my day.” Very few old people acknowledge that the world has changed since they were young. Right after Pearl Harbor, older citizens lamented that the United States was in for a real licking because the young guys of that day couldn’t even get to the corner drugstore without using the car. We all know now those soft teenagers of 1941 more than measured up and became “the Greatest Generation.”
What the oldsters didn’t realize was that the world had changed from when they were young. So, too, has the Navy changed since Dr. Lehman was the Secretary. Given that, who’s to say the change is for the better or the worse? We won’t know that for some time to come, just like those who doubted the 1941 teenagers didn’t know how good they would become.
The author laments, “The average aviator spends a very small fraction of his or her time on active duty actually flying.” So? The F-35 and the F/A-18E/F/G require skills more akin to computer gaming than they do to flying in, say, an A-6. Besides, while one must admit it’s only a small sample, look at the incumbent vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Sandy Winnefeld: three squadron tours as an F-14 pilot, squadron CO, Top Gun instructor, CO of the Enterprise (CVN-65). Admiral Winnefeld is not alone, either. Vice Admiral Bill Gortney, Director of the Joint Staff, has over 5,000 jet hours and more than 1,200 carrier landings. Other examples are available. One wonders whence came the charge of not enough cockpit time. Perhaps revealed by such a charge is the failure to accept Washington Irving Chambers’ admonition that a naval aviator is a naval officer first and an aviator second.
As for the growth of the Office of the Secretary of Defense and joint-staff bureaucracy, how can one be certain any CNO (or SecNav) had a real say in that? Didn’t it stem from a senator named Goldwater and a congressman named Nichols? Can any CNO (or SecNav) disobey the law of the land? And when it comes to length of the acquisition process, what does the average squadron pilot have to do with that? Acquisition is something for the Pentagon and the systems commands. What the Fleet is concerned about is what it has today, and what it has today are first-rate aircraft, first-rate weapons, and first-rate sailors (albeit not enough of the first).
Frankly, “Is Naval Aviation Culture Dead?” belongs in Naval History, not Proceedings.
Commander Daniel Dolan, U.S. Navy—Reading Dr. Lehman’s article was like watching an episode of AMC’s Mad Men—a sometimes delightful and sometimes disturbing reminder of what we were like “back then.” Rest assured, today’s aviators have the “confidence and swagger” that Dr. Lehman says is missing. As one who’s been wearing a set of gold wings for 28 years, I’ve seen the changes, and I don’t think I am alone in my opinion that this is one of the finest generations of aviators our nation and Navy has ever produced. Today’s naval aviators are professional, smart, good family men and women, dedicated, and above all courageous.
Dr. Lehman, where is the impressive list of accomplishments of the post–Cold War generation of aviators, which includes four shooting wars (Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq) and numerous other small-scale kinetic operations in support of the war on terrorism? In this oversight the author shortchanges the most combat-experienced generation of aviators in our nation’s history. Dr. Lehman does not mention a single example of what naval aviation has done in the past 20 years. Rather, he creates a largely imaginary image of today’s aviators burdened with tedious paperwork and spending countless hours sitting in a lecture hall listening to General Military Training Lectures on the politically correct topic du jour. A realistic image of today’s aviators would put them forward-deployed and fighting our nation’s wars with skill and courage.
By pegging the end of naval aviation culture to Tailhook ’91 and the end of naval aviation history at Desert Storm, the author insults every winged aviator who has served in the past 20 years by omitting the outstanding accomplishments of naval aviation during this incredible period.
Somehow, despite the “750 reports” and all the PC lectures that Dr. Lehman says today’s aviators have to slog through, this generation’s post–Cold War, post–Tailhook ’91 aviators have been flying in combat zones and achieving fantastic levels of mission success. In fact, today’s generation is getting the job done with a level of tactical excellence and safety never before experienced in aviation. Since 9/11, naval aviators have flown north of 2 million combat sorties while operating in the most arduous environments on the planet. Somehow, all of this was accomplished without command-sanctioned debauchery and without excluding minorities from serving their country. The culture of naval aviation has indeed changed, and the tactical performance and safety stats alone would indicate it has improved.