The Case for a Fifth Naval Shipyard
Lieutenant Kim’s excellent article mentioned three potential locations for a new shipyard. Among these, he included the former Naval Air Station (NAS) Alameda. I was surprised that he did not consider the Hunters Point Shipyard across San Francisco Bay.
As far as my online research reveals, most of the former yard remains unused, including three large dry docks and a giant gantry crane built to lift battleship turrets. The rail spur to the Cal Trains/Union Pacific mainline is overgrown but appears intact on Google Earth.
Current urban redevelopment plans for the yard could be modified to provide much-needed affordable workforce housing, and existing dry docks and piers could be rebuilt, saving time and money. Combining both Alameda and Hunters Point into a new Bay Area Naval Shipyard would seem to have much merit. If both were rebuilt, ferries and barges could transport labor and material across the four miles between them. The USS Hornet Sea, Air, and Space Museum—docked at former NAS Alameda—might provide an excellent educational piece to recruit new workers and build up public support.
I’m no expert, but those three dry docks that once held battleships and carriers are just sitting there surrounded by empty land. They might still be useful to a Navy in need of more major repair facilities.
—Benjamin Turon
The author responds:
San Francisco’s Hunter’s Point was certainly on my radar as one of the more viable locations for the shipyard. However, drawing on my engineering experience at the U.S. Navy facility in Sasebo, Japan, I believe that attempting to reactivate the dormant facilities at Hunter’s Point would prove nearly impossible, and building on the open spaces that ex-NAS Alameda provides would be the easier option. Consider:
Sediment and general neglect. The Hunters Point dry docks and piers have not been dredged or properly maintained since 1986. Even with Sasebo’s 300-plus workforce and $30 million annual maintenance budget, we were barely getting ahead in keeping the piers and dry dock intact against an onslaught of salt, waves, and marine life. While I have not made an on-site assessment, my educated guess is that accumulated environmental damage would make it uneconomical to repair. Much of the facility would need to be demolished and then reconstructed. On the other hand, NAS Alameda’s airfield affords a more or less blank canvas with which to work.
Cost of living. Alameda is not the most affordable city in which to live, but San Francisco proper still remains one of the most expensive. At present, an average bedroom in San Francisco costs north of $3,900, while an average one in Alameda is about $2,900. While on-site government housing could in theory offset the high rental prices, the rest of the cost of living in San Francisco is extraordinary. In this regard, Alameda would be a “middle ground” where the Navy could recruit from a large metropolis while not having to compete with its wages and cost of living.
The Shipyard Shortage Is a People Problem
I read Dr. Pitrof’s article with interest and some familiarity. In the 1980s and 90s, my company transported petroleum by tug and barge, and our ships often used Cramp’s remaining cleats and bollards to moor equipment while awaiting orders for the next load.
To the author’s three considerations for shipyard revitalization—management with experience, a pool of skilled labor, and retention resulting from a good backlog of work—a fourth should be added: workforce mobility.
Within 15 miles of Cramp’s there existed Sun Shipbuilding and Drydock Co. in Chester, Pennsylvania; New York Shipbuilding in Camden, New Jersey; and the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, which employed more than 11,000 civilians when I was there during the refurbishment of the USS New Jersey (BB-62). With multiple employment options in close proximity, workers could change employers to wherever they perceived the best opportunity.
Any new shipbuilding capacity should be situated where workers can be attracted and skill levels developed through training and on-the-job experience with a career-retention model in mind.
—CAPT William S. Bates, USN (Ret.)
Prize Law Can Help the U.S. Win the War of 2026
Heave to, and Prepare to Be Boarded
The authors present soundly crafted descriptions of how prize law might profitably work for the United States, but they do not account for the cost-effective counteraction the Chinese could easily take should this become troublesome: reflagging.
The robust U.S. merchant marine faced a similar situation during the Civil War, when depredations by Confederate raiders led many commercial ship owners to increasingly change the registry of their vessels to Great Britain and other nations as the rebellion continued.
Unwilling to risk alienating their trading partners, ship providers, and potential allies by attacking ships flying their flags, the Confederates were unable to meaningfully affect maritime trade to and from the Union. Should Chinese companies re-register their ships in Russia or other China-friendly countries, Washington would face the same dilemma as did Richmond 165 years earlier: how to interdict trade with China without bringing those other nations into the war.
In 2026, the United States would be challenged just as Germany was in both world wars. When Germany tried to choke off trade with Britain, sinking even a handful of U.S. vessels risked provoking U.S. intervention, an extremely undesirable outcome. Doubly vexing for Nazi Germany, the Japanese dared not interfere with Soviet shipping from North America to the Far East for the same reason, even after Japan was at war with the United States and Canada.
True, the authors are specifically proposing capturing rather than sinking Chinese vessels. But to believe Vladimir Putin would countenance the seizure of Russian-flagged merchant ships without responding forcefully while the United States is stretched thin by a war in the Pacific is probably not a risk worth taking.
—CDR C. A. Janiec, USN (Ret.)
The Constellation Controversy and the Navy’s Culture
The authors have a valid point: Sadly, it is not too hard to find examples in the Navy’s history in which leaders sacrificed integrity and honesty to protect the service’s reputation or in misguided “ends justify means” decisions. Such behavior usually backfired. However, to say that naming a new class of frigates Constellation somehow represents an institutional failure is a contrived and flawed argument.
The new class is named after the 1797 frigate USS Constellation, which in turn was named after the field of stars in the flag of the United States. With due respect to the authors, there is nothing disreputable about the American flag or the battle and service record of the 18th-century Constellation.
In 2020, then–Secretary of Navy Kenneth Braithwaite, an avid student of naval history, informed me that he wanted to name the new class of frigates after one of the U.S. Navy’s first six frigates. With the USS Constitution still in commission, we talked through in detail the positive and negative attributes of the names United States, Constellation, Chesapeake, Congress, and President. The Constellation, the second of the first six frigates completed and the first to defeat a major foreign warship, was his choice.
The secretary was well aware of the historical controversy regarding the second Constellation, which was conclusively determined more than 25 years ago not to be the original frigate. I will not attempt to defend the indefensible actions of some in the Navy that ultimately led to the museum ship currently in Baltimore being modified to have the outward appearance of the 1797 frigate rather than the 1854 sloop-of-war she actually is. That few in the Navy besides serious naval historians would be aware of this should be of no surprise, but neither does it reflect an institutional failure to understand history by the present-day Navy. It is the reputations of the people involved that are tarnished, not the name Constellation.
In fact, the authors downplay the historic significance of the “otherwise unremarkable” 1854 Constellation. This ship is the only warship still afloat that served an active role in the U.S. Civil War and was the last all-sail warship built for the U.S. Navy. In 1859, she served as flagship for the Africa Squadron on successful anti–slave trade patrol. She conducted one of the Navy’s first humanitarian missions, helping to alleviate famine in Ireland in 1879. Also, the ship served as in-port flagship for the Atlantic Fleet during World War II.
Neither the cancellation of the battle-cruiser Constellation (CC-2) while on the building ways nor the “mutiny” that occurred on the aircraft carrier Constellation (CVA/CV-64) in November 1972 tarnish the name.
However, the Navy’s initial attempt to downplay the seriousness of the latter is an example that makes the authors’ point. The truth was subsequently dragged out bit by bit in painful and embarrassing detail in the media and in congressional testimony, making the incident seem even worse than it was—and damaging the Navy’s reputation anyway.
The problem, then, is not that the Navy fails to understand its history; rather, it is the too frequent failure of Navy leaders to live up to the standards of integrity to which we claim to adhere, and to which the vast majority of Navy leaders in history have adhered. The answer is in our own core value: “honor.” Live by it.
—RADM Sam Cox, USN (Ret.), Director, Naval History and Heritage Command
It Is Time to Review the Naval Academy’s Curriculum
While no harm, and potentially much good, can come from a review of the U.S. Naval Academy’s core curriculum, as we do so, let us remain focused on what the Naval Academy is and, more specifically, what it is not.
On active duty at the major command level and in industry at the chief executive level, I have led thousands of people who were graduates of colleges and universities across the country.
The Naval Academy is not a finishing school for senior national leaders. It is not even the end of an apprenticeship program for Navy and Marine Corps leaders. It is the end of a training program that qualifies one to begin an apprenticeship. Even compared to the most prestigious Ivy League and other “tier one” schools, it fares extremely well.
My experience is that, in recent years, academia has largely failed American society. It is true that many of my best leaders were not Naval Academy graduates. It is equally true that some of my worst leaders were graduates of prestigious MBA programs. In general, it is the rare university graduate who is ready out of the gate.
We used to say university teaches people how to think. Now, many universities teach people what to think, and that dynamic is causing the schools to fail society. Either because personal aptitude is more important than education, or because educational institutions have become echo chambers crafted to breed people with the “right” outlook, today schools that take a trade-school approach to undergraduate education tend to fare better in the real world.
The Naval Academy bucks the negative trends and, hence, fares better than most. Review the curriculum? Sure.
But I would be judicious before I would be willing to tamper with one of the few schools that has not become polluted by recent pseudo-advancements in education.
—CAPT William Toti, USN (Ret.)
Excellent stuff. I’ll admit I had not thought much about what the curriculum at Annapolis includes these days, but this article got me thinking that a deep review by people who are both higher education professionals and former/retired naval officers would be a smart thing to do. Maybe the superintendent would form such a group to reassess what we are preparing midshipmen to do across the spectrum of service in the Navy and Marine Corps and in society for the rest of their lives.
Commissioning officers into the fleet and then sending them through basic warfighting training is far too slow a process. It takes two years post-graduation before they have even a clue as to what they are supposed to be doing to ensure their ships can fight. Even then, that’s pretty iffy.
Maybe what is required is to ensure every midshipman is fully qualified for surface warfare duties before graduation. Think yard-patrol craft training on steroids, with a whopping number of hours of simulated combat scenarios. Consider a Kobayashi Maru training simulation (named for a famous scenario in the Star Trek franchise). Linked simulators would provide a realistic approach to how the Navy has done warfighting for decades.
Bottom line, if the Navy can teach midshipmen cyber operations at a highly classified level, it also should be able to give midshipmen a deep understanding of combat tactics, fleet maneuver, joint operations, and so on.
—CDR Jon R. Olson, USN (Ret.)
No One Should Think the War Will Be Short
Sea denial has been on everyone’s lips for the past few years. Drone swarms like those Iran has demonstrated in the Red Sea have fed a widespread consideration of new possibilities for the counterinvasion mission, which might make the defense of Taiwan more practical than previously thought.
But make no mistake: The growing effectiveness of antiaccess/area-denial systems is a net negative for the United States and its Pacific friends and allies, because sea denial—in the form of either a successful defense of the Taiwan Strait or a blockade of China—will not be enough. In a state of mutual sea denial, in which China cannot cross the strait and the United States cannot supply the first island chain by sea, failure will arrive rapidly, because the first island chain is too populous to be supplied by air.
Realistically, it seems improbable that countries whose commitment to Taiwan’s defense is lukewarm to begin with would endure hardships comparable to those of the German people from 1914 to 1918 before bowing out of the fight. It seems far more probable that an effective blockade of the first island chain would, under present circumstances, rapidly bring Japan and the Philippines to terms, even if supplies of critical military materials could be provided by air.
Commander Cobb wrote, “A reflexive desire to immediately surge forces into combat and win a rapid victory is misaligned with current capabilities, risk tolerances, and escalation management principles.” Unfortunately, any other policy is probably misaligned with the objective of achieving an agreeable stalemate, never mind a “quick victory.” There is, after all, a time and a place for Corbett—and a time and a place for Mahan. In a Taiwan scenario, we will probably not be afforded the luxury of gently prodding at the edges.
If China can blockade Taiwan into submission, it can simultaneously or subsequently blockade the rest of the first island chain. As Commander Cobb notes, the Chinese Communist Party’s long-standing political commitment to reunification suggests it is unlikely to settle for half measures. If the Navy’s business is averting the loss of the first island chain, that will entail some serious risks. One of them is probably a major sea battle within the first few months. We can either accept that risk—or avoid it and accept the consequences. But there is no easy way out.
And, as long as we are dwelling on inconvenient facts, it bears mentioning that China’s massive nuclear expansion is probably not unrelated to China’s intention to retake Taiwan; so nuclear escalation is another risk that we will have to accept unless we are willing to give up on the whole balancing enterprise. On the increasingly outmatched strategic nuclear arsenal of the United States hinges not just the struggle for East Asia, but also the contest for the entire world. So, if nothing else, can we please make a serious effort to get those Columbia-class submarines done in time?
—Ben Ollerenshaw
Readiness Does Not Equal Lethality
While “readiness” and “lethality” are not interchangeable, readiness should result in lethality. If readiness plus properly defined and evaluated requirements does not equal lethality, the requirements must be reexamined.
In the P-8A Poseidon/maritime patrol and reconnaissance community, my colleagues and I were buried in dozens of readiness requirements, from pilot proficiency (daytime/nighttime landings and flight hours, non-precision/precision approaches, etc.), to antisubmarine warfare (tracking targets, time to attack), etc. Most were effective in ensuring crews and aircraft were properly prepared to fight.
But some of the requirements had limited real-world practicality and could easily be sea-lawyered. For example, crews have only limited opportunities to track submarines or autonomous Mk 39 Expendable Mobile Anti-Submarine Warfare Training Targets (EMATTs). Occasionally, two separate crews were on the same plane, trading seats midflight to track the same submarine or EMATT. Is the requirement being met? As defined by the readiness requirements, yes. But does this result in true proficiency and lethality? Probably not. It is certainly better than nothing, but not great.
The danger lies in the prioritization of turning red boxes green on a PowerPoint slide—pursuing the appearance of readiness at the expense of true capability and conflating readiness with proficiency. Commanders often seem afraid to not reach monthly/quarterly/annual readiness requirements for fear of disappointing their bosses or not appearing as competent as other commands with the same requirements (after all, readiness trackers are a significant component for commodores ranking commanders).
If a command cannot properly meet readiness requirements and true proficiency, its leaders should be comfortable giving the bad news. And if the readiness requirement does not make sense or is not supported by the appropriate resources to achieve it, it should be modified or deleted to ensure readiness does result in lethality.
—LT Bradley Woods, USNR
At least into the 1990s, readiness ratings included measures of both material and personnel readiness. Personnel readiness, particularly for aviation units, was time sensitive: Readiness ratings declined over time, requiring ongoing training. This was a good system for measuring a units’ capability to perform.
Two unmeasured—perhaps immeasurable—assessment factors are morale and the leaders’ judgment. Morale/command climate could be assessed using tools like those once available through the Navy’s Human Resource Management Program.
Judgment is, of course, harder to evaluate or quantify than morale, particularly for high-stress situations. Perhaps the best we can do is to ensure leaders, particularly at the commanding officer and flag levels, hold frequent, realistic exercises. The availability of tactical data networks allows such scenarios to be played by geographically remote units.
Readiness can be measured by numerous measures. Lethality, unfortunately, can only be measured after conflict.
—CDR Robert B. Pinnell, USN (Ret.)
Thanks for Everything, Mr. Roberts
The ship on which author Thomas Heggen served was the USS Virgo (AKA-20). During the Vietnam War, that ship was pulled out of mothballs and refitted as an ammunition ship—AE-30. I served as a junior officer on her in 1969 and 1970, primarily off the coast of Vietnam replenishing U.S. (and occasionally Australian) ships.
The descriptions in the book are clearly my ship; in the movie, however, they used a different class ship—I think a sister ship of the USS Pueblo (AGER-2), now docked in North Korea. Because my last name is Roberts, I was occasionally asked if I thought the Navy had intentionally sent me to the Virgo. I doubted it then and now, but who knows? While on the Virgo, I wrote to Mr. Heggen, and got an answer several months later from his brother thanking me for my letter, but saying that the author was deceased. I subsequently learned he had committed suicide. Thank you for your very interesting article.
—CDR Jared I. Roberts, USNR (Ret.)
Editor’s Note: It is not in dispute that Mr. Heggen died by drowning following an overdose, but uncertainty remains as to whether it was intentional.
An Industrial Mobilization Plan to Deter or Defeat China
Vice Admiral Morgan’s approach to the mobilization of the U.S. economy in the event of a war with China seems to be an extension of the current economy rather than the wartime economy that existed in World War II.
He writes, “If a company must change its manufacturing base, output, or workforce, it will need to be compensated.” Sorry, but no. In World War II, the U.S. government seized companies that did not conform to government production directives—Montgomery Ward in December 1944, for example. All civilian automobile production was halted in February 1942.
Under mobilization of capital, the author did not mention a top income tax rate of 94 percent (1944) or rationing (regular drivers—3 gallons of gas per week; factory workers—8 gallons per week). Sugar, fats, meat, coffee, and processed food were also rationed.
Morgan writes, “Shared technology, patents, and trade secrets will need to be preserved.” Nope. All people working on the Manhattan project had to assign their entire rights on any inventions in this field to the government. During the war, the U.S. Commissioner of Patents was able to withhold a patent for as long as the national interest required.
A war with China would require a total transformation of the U.S. economy unlike anything seen since the 1940s. To pretend that economic mobilization can be done with a few changes on the side is vastly understating what will need to be done. Based on levels of industrial production, the United States would need a short war, while China would seek just the opposite to bring its superior productive capacity to bear on the outcome. Sound familiar?
—Guy Wroble
CACO: Learning to Lead through Loss
I was assigned as the secondary next of kin and later the primary next of kin casualty-assistance calls officer (CACO) to the family of a petty officer who was one of 37 sailors killed when the USS Stark (FFG-31) was attacked in the Persian Gulf on 17 May 1987. From my initial call in support of the sailor’s parents to a hand off as primary next of kin CACO for his wife and children, the assignment challenged every aspect of my military education, training, and experience as a young naval officer.
Lieutenant Colonel Kerg’s important article not only underscores the leadership traits essential when assisting the next of kin, but also serves as a thoughtful reminder that you will never be fully prepared for the great responsibility and exceptional demands required of a CACO. Guided by a sense of duty to honor the fallen, the imperative is and always will be to act professionally with compassion, empathy, and respect for the grieving family at a time of most profound importance.
—CAPT David L. Rausch, USN (Ret.)