The Elephant in the Engine Room
Commander Barrion’s first-rate article tells us that the Coast Guard has not adapted to the reality of its complex assets. I began my career as a naval engineer in the late 1960s, when the technically advanced 378-foot high-endurance cutters were being introduced.
I was privileged to serve on the commissioning crew of the USCGC Gallatin (WHEC-721), engineering officer of the Dallas (WHEC-716), executive officer of the Boutwell (WHEC-719), and commanding officer of the Morgenthau (WHEC-722) and Douglas Munro (WHEC-724).
Those vessels were considerably more technically complex than the vintage, World War II–era 327s, 311s, and 255s they were replacing. Noteworthy were novel features such as the machinery control and monitoring system, combined diesel-or-gas-turbine propulsion plant, and gas-turbine emergency generator. There was no established training on the engineering systems; the first commissioning crews gained competence serving in the shipyard as the cutters were being built, observing the experts and attending various manufacturers’ in-house courses. Hence, post-commissioning operations went well—until the original engineering crew members completed their tours and moved on.
This lack of experience and training was evident when I stepped on board the Dallas and found a number of systems either not working or jury-rigged. I had a wonderful time self-educating, troubleshooting, and fixing the multitude of problems, but this was not the way our service should have been operating. Certainly not Semper Paratus—always ready.
From that moment forward I began a journey to get the service’s naval engineering program to invest in the training necessary to develop the requisite skills for shipboard engineers. We did embrace the concepts of maintaining more on the go, relaxing the silos, diving deep with the experts, and participating in the heavy maintenance actions. These actions, coupled with the relocation and proper outfitting of the Engineering and Weapons School in Yorktown, Virginia (where I also served as school chief), became the way ahead that successfully enabled most of the 378s to serve the Coast Guard for 50-plus years.
The author’s recommendation for a quasi-specialization of engineering rates is worth considering. The 378-foot cutters’ predecessors were staffed with engineers who might spend a decade or more on a particular ship, assignments managed by local geographic districts. As the new cutters were being introduced, the Coast Guard moved to centralize all assignments through headquarters. Shipboard assignments changed radically—to three-year tours—further feeding the elephant.
I have little doubt about the necessity of Commander Barrion’s recommendations. The Coast Guard must get rid of the elephant before, as she says, the elephant grows enough to sink the surface fleet.
—RADM Fred Ames, USCG (Ret.), P.E.
Task the Fire Scout as a Horizon Reference Unit
When a warship is tasked to perform duties as the carrier’s horizon reference unit (HRU), it is because the carrier’s landing signal officers (LSOs) would appreciate some help from a light on the horizon in the direction of approaching returning aircraft. The role of the HRU is not easy, but it is important, and it provides an excellent opportunity for serious shiphandling. There are, of course, times when an area air-defense platform might be better positioned up the threat axis; however, short of an imminent air threat, the advantages of employing a destroyer as the HRU far outweigh the disadvantages.
Despite Lieutenant Sims’ suggestion, this is not a misuse of a warship. The destroyer’s good fortune to oblige the request is at the very least an excellent cross-community opportunity between the surface combatant and aviators on the big-deck platform. Yes, HRU duty requires a more robust engineering configuration, so it will consume more fuel. But the opportunity to position on station and aggressively maneuver away from the carrier’s forward aspect as it pivots to reset downwind for the next launch-and-recovery cycle is one of those rare opportunities to “drive it like you stole it.” This is how you get younger officers’ attention: Teach them and then make them do it without senior leaders breathing down their necks. This is serious operational shiphandling at its best.
Disaggregated operations may leave only one escort to protect the carrier. It is HRU duty that earns the trust of the aircraft carrier’s bridge. Getting the cruiser or destroyer around the carrier from 3,000 yards astern takes practiced ability. When doing so, there is no more 3 – 2 – 1 rule. It is a beautiful thing to see, but it takes practice to tame these “Formula 1 warships.”
The hazy horizon, where the HRU is often required, is more common in the Middle East and even less likely to be necessary with more advanced recovery optics tools being introduced to the fleet.
The question is: Why is HRU not being taught in the Navy Shiphandling Simulator Trainer? The first time shiphandlers do these maneuvers should not be live at sea. These amazing simulators should be used for varsity shiphandling training—a single unit behind a constructive carrier, or a two-ship simulator with bridges linked.
HRU duty is an important skill and valuable on several levels beyond the HRU function itself.
—CAPT John C. Nygaard, USN (Ret.)
Planning for the Next War Must Be a Mixture of Art & Science
Admiral Piercey wrote an insightful and timely piece on operational planning. I fully agree on the need to make operational decision-making and planning a mixture of art and science.
I would add that the commander’s estimate process should be added to his list. The first step should be to remove the estimate process from Joint Publication 5-0: Joint Planning Process (JPP). The ultimate purpose of the commander’s estimate is to make a sound decision. Hence, it must be highlighted (as it was in the past) instead of being meshed with the joint planning process. Operational decision-making and operational planning are related but not identical in their purposes.
The final step of the estimate process is the decision, not course-of-action approval as stipulated in the current joint doctrine. Making a decision is an art, not a science. It is in making decisions where the commander should apply his/her creativity, imagination, sound judgment, and experience.
Regardless of advances in information technologies, an operational commander will never have complete knowledge of the situation. Hence, he or she will have to make decisions at various degrees of uncertainty. This will often require taking substantial but prudent risks. Currently, in almost all steps of the estimate process, the risk factor is highlighted. Yet the risk should be weighed only in conducting a test of acceptability for each course of action. Obsessive focus on risk and its mitigation cannot but have negative effects on exercising initiative and creativity. And risk is not only a source of potential danger for one’s forces, but also an opportunity to achieve great success.
As Admiral Piercey notes, commander’s intent is one of the basic elements of mission command. Properly stated, it tells subordinate commanders what situation the higher commander wants to see in military terms in a given area after the mission is accomplished—the desired military end estate (or effect). It is issued two command echelons down. For an operational commander, the intent is expression of the operational vision—to think (like a good chess player) in terms of action/reaction/counterreaction, until the end state is achieved.
Another important purpose of intent is to provide boundaries for subordinate commanders, allowing them to act freely by exercising the initiative in situations in which unforeseen events occur and communication with the higher commander is unavailable. Here, subordinate commanders have an opportunity to apply their creativity and imagination to take advantage of fleeting opportunities.
Unfortunately, the JPP (December 2020, pp. IV-18) complicates the matter by suggesting that commander’s intent should include not only the end state, but also the purpose (which is already part of the mission statement) and risk. However, commanders should look forward and think positively instead of betraying their doubts about a pending operation. The JPP adds that the intent also “may include operational objectives, methods, and effects guidance.” This statement is not only unnecessary, but actually defeats the entire purpose of the commander’s intent.
There is no place for risk as part of the commander’s intent.
—Milan Vego, U.S. Naval War College
Bring the Naval War College Into the Future
Naval War College
Commander Wright’s cost-conscious, interest-based argument for shifting the Naval War College from in-resident to remote education misdiagnoses the root cause of limited U.S. Navy officer representation at the Naval War College. It also overstates the college’s success during the “COVID years.” Finally, it fails to account sufficiently for the likely outcome for remote cohorts assigned to fleet concentration areas.
As a graduate and former military faculty member of the Naval War College, I categorize the Navy’s relationship with its war college as ambivalent at best. I was cautioned against taking student orders to the Naval War College vice a higher-profile joint billet. Many Navy students have received similar counsel or attended because they had sufficient time to complete their education and move on to a more valued billet before their next screening milestone.
Unlike many of their peers in the joint force, Navy students are not screened by boards to be selected to attend. The majority attend because they are interested in the in-resident educational experience, while others attend only because they were ordered to do so. Most believe that their year at the Naval War College will not be a substantial factor toward promotion and milestone screening.
Quite understandably, many officers will not want to move twice in a year unless the value of in-resident education outweighs the costs of the instability inflicted. Without a significant change in the Navy’s valuation of in-resident education, Commander Wright’s recommendation for a remote war college might appear to make sense.
But, having taught at the Naval War College both remotely and on campus, I would argue that COVID-era graduation metrics fail to account for the quantifiable and ethereal losses incurred during remote learning. To compensate for “Zoom fatigue,” course sessions were generally shortened during remote learning. Practical exercises were strained by technological limitations. Wargaming during the Joint Military/Maritime Operations trimester and classified electives were completely stopped. Both would remain so under Commander Wright’s proposal. The Naval War College met quantitative metrics during the “COVID years.” It can be debated whether it reached the same qualitative metrics remotely as those achieved during in-person learning.
A remote experience with cohorts located in fleet concentration areas introduces a foreseeable problem. Situated near fleet staffs, midgrade and senior officers will be an irresistible manpower resource for duties not connected to war college education. I remotely completed JPME II through the Joint Forces Staff College during the summer of 2020. A significant number of my remote classmates found themselves working for their detaching or gaining commands while enrolled. It would be naïve to think that remote war college would result in different experiences. The majority of this (much larger) group of officers would sensibly prioritize projects assigned by a reporting senior over educational requirements.
I must make a disclosure: While still assigned to the Naval War College, I first read Commander Wright’s article as a member of the Naval Institute’s editorial board, with the opportunity to recommend for or against publication. As a war college teacher, I consistently pushed my students to refine their critical thinking, challenge theory and doctrine, and improve their decision-making, just as I was taught during my own war college experience. Any argument supported by facts and analysis was fair game, regardless of a service’s culture, historical ties, or equities. Frequent exposure to classmates in person proved essential to enabling an environment of trust, logical analysis, and critique across service backgrounds.
Commander Wright’s proposal would effectively dismantle the institution and undercut an education deeply valuable to the Navy. However, he made the argument logically and in good faith, and I am grateful he submitted it to Proceedings. Despite my disagreement, I fully recommended it for publication. My experiences at the Naval War College made that decision easy.
—CAPT Tom Clarity, USN
The Unintended Consequences of the Coast Guard’s Sector Command
Commander Casey can count me in as part of the legacy group of pre-sector Coast Guardsmen. My first assignment out of Officer Candidate School in June 1990 was to Group Seattle, now part of Sector Puget Sound.
My newly commissioned mind never envisioned merging the group and Maritime Safety Office (MSO) commands into a single unit. It is interesting, as he notes, that the stand-up of sectors occurred around the same time the Coast Guard shifted from the Department of Transportation (never a good pairing in my opinion) to the Department of Homeland Security.
I served at only one Sector—San Diego. Its organization matches what Commander Casey describes, with a few nuances. Sector San Diego had in its toolkit a three-helicopter air station that flew the HH-60 Jayhawk. Commanding officer (CO) was an aviator billet, but the deputy CO billet was not. When the new CO went off for HH-60 transition training, the deputy commanded the unit—temporarily minus the air station; command of the air station shifted to an aviator billet at sector, the logistics officer. I thought then (and still do) that the division of command seemed awkward, but the people made it work. I also thought it odd that an aviator, as sector CO, had captain-of-the-port authority, which under the old MSO construct had been highly nuanced legally.
As far as I know, the Coast Guard has not done a hot wash/after-action review of “sectorization.” But it should. Commander Casey’s observations and recommendations would make a good place to start.
—CAPT David Teska, USCGR (Ret.)
Maritime COIN Is a Team Sport
A Campaign Plan for the South China Sea
China is the foremost long-term challenge to the United States in the Pacific. While China continues to develop platforms that can threaten the U.S. fleet, its practice of denying neighboring countries the use of their own natural resources and imposing its will on South China Sea (SCS) nations is a more immediate concern. The United States is failing to implement the right interface for this gray zone conflict by primarily using the assets it would prioritize in a kinetic war.
Captain Taylor advocates for “persistent low-end presence” to prevent Chinese fishing vessels and small craft from “coercing neighborhood residents” away from resources that are naturally theirs. He argues that this behavior is not being handled effectively by simple trips “through the rough parts of the neighborhood, during which time the local troublemakers keep a low profile.”
Realistically, carrier strike groups and surface action groups overmatch the small craft China employs. The size and capability mismatches between a destroyer and fishing boats do not allow for the quantity and frequency of interactions required to institute long-term change.
A fleet of smaller vessels, crewed by Navy and Coast Guard sailors and armed Marines, could be a more effective interface.
This concept could easily be taken a step further. Smaller Navy vessels deployed forward could form the basis of a counterinsurgency squadron—a “COINRon.” Flotillas of repurposed littoral combat ships (LCSs) or other platforms of similar size and capability could be assigned to such a squadron. Upgunned Coast Guard fast response cutters might serve as well, and the COINRon also could benefit from the addition of unmanned craft. This would then allow an LCS to serve as the squadron’s flagship.
This flexible COINRon model would also lend itself to the integration of other U.S. and partner nation assets. Willing partners could easily embark detachments on small craft or integrate their own vessels. The speed, mobility, and access of smaller craft would also allow other U.S. organizations and agencies to embark and monitor trends without drawing undue attention. Future inclusion of platforms such as the expeditionary fast transport, expeditionary sea base, and landing ship, medium, would add small-scale amphibious capabilities, allowing equipment and forces to reposition swiftly without necessarily escalating in the ways a larger combat force might.
Gradually implementing a COINRon model in the SCS would generate a more diversified force and allow properly matched platforms to address on a more consistent basis the problems presented by China’s aggression.
—LT Sean Cruess, USN
USS Scorpion
Correction: In my reply to Jim Bryant regarding Rear Admiral Philip Beshany’s 1997 interview about the USS Scorpion, I asserted that the admiral had told me he was aware of the secret pre–27 May1968 search for the submarine, when in fact he had said he was not aware of that event. I apologize for
the error.
—Ed Offley, Author, Scorpion Down
The Maritime Strategy: A Living Document
I read Lieutenant (junior grade) Hano’s excellent and well-researched piece with great interest.
I would like to correct one minor error. He writes: “The fleet reached a post-Vietnam low of 521 ships in 1981, with most—but not all—of the ones built during the 1940s and 1950s retired to fund modernization.” Actually, the fleet was on its way back at that point. Its lowest point came in 1976 under Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) Admiral James Holloway at 477 ships (as discussed in my article, “Zumwalt, Holloway, and the Soviet Navy Threat” in the Journal of Advanced Military Studies).
Thanks again to Lieutenant Hano for a fine article.
—CDR John T. Kuehn, USN (Ret.), and professor of military history, USA CGSC
