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Do the U. S. Navy’s surface forces ave the offensive-minded attitude nj-eded to win? Are the days of surface stllP engagements gone? And is all the recent talk about U. S. surface action grouPs (SAGs) just—talk?
Let us stop waving our arms about de- ense"in-depth against the Soviet air and antiship cruise missile threat. Reports Predict that the Kiev-class aircraft carriers k m soon be followed by a more capable 8-deck carrier, and that more Kirov risers, Sovremennyy guided missile estroyers, and Slava cruisers are on the ay- These highly capable combatants, j'h long-range surface-to-surface mis- ®s> pose real problems for our Navy. We surface sailors must translate con- fac ^°r t*le often-publicized Soviet sure threat into concrete objectives for "‘‘surface warfare (ASUW). The •j.anned expansion of the fleet to include ‘^bahawk-capable Ticonderoga (CG- ‘ cruisers and Spruance (DD-963) de-
- Shipbuilding
stroyers, four battleship surface action groups, and the programmed addition of the Arleigh Burke (DDG-51) guided missile destroyers provides the basis for a reorientation of our tactical thought, and a reexamination of strategic considerations which affect naval forces.
Antisurface warfare is the least understood and, therefore, most neglected of the major warfare areas. The basic problem is that we have too few carrier task groups to project power ashore and control high-priority ocean areas simultaneously. As a result, we lack a balance to the growing Soviet surface threat, even in those geographic areas where power projection and sea control exist in contiguous space. The air wings on board our aircraft carriers may face the unenviable challenge of conducting strikes ashore while maintaining a triple-threat posture for an acceptable level of sea control. Perhaps an inadequate number of aircraft may be available for strikes ashore. The expected attrition of attack capability against Aegis-like platforms with Mach-5 missiles, short-range surface-to-air missiles (SAMs), and close-in weapon systems compounds the tactical scenario.
Here lies the heart of the ASUW problem: how can we most effectively defeat air defenses of a Soviet task force so that tactical aircraft, if available, can successfully penetrate to neutralize the long- range surface-to-surface missile (SSM) threat and return to fight another battle? If tactical aircraft are not available for an ASUW mission, can we consistently rely on our surface-launched Harpoon missiles to engage the enemy successfully?
It must be clear to the Soviets—as clear as this airborne 16-inch shell from the battleship Iowa—that they will be forced to alter their naval tactics because of a surface action group’s ability to pound shore targets.
Surface escorts armed with Tomahawk missiles—the USS Merrill (DD-976) fires one above—complicate targeting priorities for Soviet naval forces, which would rather concentrate on sinking aircraft carriers.
How can we fully employ the offensive firepower of our surface ships, submarines, and maritime patrol aircraft in an ASUW role?
To successfully conduct antisurface warfare, three tactical objectives should be accomplished: present an offense-indepth to the enemy, maximize aircraft carrier survivability, and minimize tactical aircraft attrition. These, in turn, enhance the ability of the carrier battle group to achieve two primary strategic objectives: project power ashore and maintain sea control.
Offense-in-Depth: Antisurface warfare is, tactically, the most challenging warfare discipline to execute, because it involves a broad spectrum of platforms possessing diverse weapon capabilities. The optimum employment of these sophisticated weapon systems and sensors dictates the establishment of an offense- in-depth which is capable of initially engaging the enemy at Tomahawk missile and tactical air strike ranges, but can also mass significant firepower at shorter ranges with Harpoon missiles, Mk-48 torpedoes, laser-guided projectiles, and conventional gun ordnance.
One can argue convincingly that a carrier battle group can provide the offense- in-depth described above, but only within limited parameters. Carriers are at a premium at any given time and location. It follows that the Soviets can focus on the aircraft carrier in their ASUW tactics, because no surface combatant can threaten their Kiev and Kirov surface action groups at long range. While our surface combatants can assist in creating a cover and deception problem for the Soviets and complicate their targeting
phase, our ships do not force the Soviets to dilute their ASUW efforts.
The introduction of numerous SAGs containing a battleship and several Tomahawk-capable combatants (DDG-51s or DD-963s) and the capability to accomplish the detection and targeting phases with organic intelligence and direct support aircraft present new ASUW threats to the Soviet Navy. Moreover, a SAG’s ability to pound shore targets with 16- inch shells and threaten high-value targets ashore with Tomahawk land attack missiles must also weigh heavily on the Soviets’ (or their surrogates’) defensive planning. This is an important element of offense-in-depth—development of an offensive baseline. Only when the Soviets perceive a U. S. surface action group as being as dangerous to their naval forces and interests ashore as a carrier battle group can one expect to see the Soviets change their tactics.
Maximize Carrier Survivability: This essential ASUW tactical objective is defensive in nature; we currently conduct operations which reflect this concern. Tlie antiair and antisubmarine screening of a carrier with various assets, including frigates conducting passive area antisubmarine warfare, is typical of this tactical thinking. However, we fail to consider an equally important point: realism. We keep most of our surface ships attached to the umbilical cord of the aircraft carrier. Look for concentrations of ships, get the “Mod Kashin” or intelligence collector in the “tattletale” station with a carrier battle group, and the Soviets have solved half of their ASUW problem relatively easily. Here lies the secondary advantage of an offense-in-depth concept—the establishment of a defensive baseline.
Consider a tactical scenario where many SAGs (one of which may have a carrier) are conducting various operations, and are capable of employing cover and deception techniques which force the Soviets to look harder for “the carrier.” If a Tomahawk-capable DDG-51 is oper
ating in another SAG within the battle force, would not the Soviets also have to divert some assets to locate and targe* that threat as well? With the expansion of the fleet to increased numbers of surface ships, the ability to “hide” the carrier and allow her to operate more flexibly within the battle force becomes more plausible. Moreover, safety-in-numbers also reinforces a basic rule: in general’ the more ships in a formation, the more missiles the enemy has to fire to ensure at least one hit on each target. It is precisely this point—in reverse—which generates the third ASUW tactical objective.
Minimize Tactical Aircraft Attrition- Cruise missiles and aircraft are better than cruise missiles or aircraft. The threa to manned tactical aircraft posed by tn SA-N-6, and significantly shorter-range
SAMs and close-in weapon systems
Add
and
well recognized by our aviators, several ships to the enemy task force the complexity of the problem balloon^ Warfare commanders must closely exarn ine the multiple missions an aircraft caj rier may be required to execute, then a locate the appropriate level of aircra support on a priority basis. As is alrea •' recognized, our air wings may be task with simultaneously attacking a K‘rl group, defending the carrier battle gr°u( against air-, surface-, and subsurfac launched antiship cruise missile attac ■ ’ and conducting land strikes in support.
strategic objectives. The SAG,
with
Tomahawks, Harpoons, and the capal
ibil"
out
ity to employ air wing assets, offers aviators a more reasonable mission: is, to conduct strikes on targets—-lan . sea—which have been softened by nl sile attacks. . f
The advent of Tomahawk, whe ^ launched from the vertical launch sys* or from armored box launchers, ProVIoSt the Navy with a weapon that can t° ^ effectively enhance the performance our manned aircraft. For the first tim ^ our Navy’s history, we will arm our face ships with the capability to str^e^.[l2
gets at ranges comparable to or exce® those of tactical aircraft. We may
that
find- and
we introduce Tomahawk antiship |t land attack missiles into the fleet, tn may be preferable to coordinate the ployment of these weapons than to c ^ dinate current cruiser-destroyer and s marine weaponry.
The current tactical necessity ^ face ships to close the enemy to ** j Harpoon range to conduct coordm engagements with the air wing lS.jeS) moved with Tomahawk antiship nll^cfa- thus opening the door for a new £e‘inC)i
tion of ASUW tactics. Indeed, the laUfl
of land attack missiles, in conjunC
■tied
l9(M
Wlth air strikes ashore, may be preferable lnthe initial stages (e.g., airfield destruc- hon) of an amphibious operation to the use of guns, which may unnecessarily nsk fire support units of an amphibious task group. Tomahawk employment ®1Ves the battle group or SAG commander a range of offensive options that he does not currently possess.
Strategic Concerns: Does a SAG make sense strategically? Certainly, if it can ully carry out a mission that would otherwise require a carrier battle group. Uch missions frequently arise in other nan high-threat areas. These areas may e described as those in which the Soviets nan most rapidly deploy their massive nd forces in conjunction with their naval and air power. The Eastern Medi- Ufranean, North Sea, and Southwest sta may be classified in those terms. As e Soviet Navy deploys worldwide, we Can expect a continuing Soviet effort to Establish overseas bases which can enable eir long-range attack aircraft to operate 'th their naval forces. As such moves n^et with success, the Soviet Union’s fategic posture will improve, increasing e Pressure for us to deploy carrier battle
t^oups—(,ut we can on]y deploy so
^ln the South Atlantic and other theaters operation, Soviet naval forces, like I rs’ will enter a surface engagement tierge|y °n their own. Could a carrier bat- group control sea-lanes in the South eel]301'0 or Eastern Pacific? Undoubt- fo ’V ^ut what other operation will we be £,rced to cancel for lack of a carrier? te°U'd a battleship SAG, under the pro- si 1Ve umbrella of Aegis cruisers or decyers, carry out the same mission? Of an|jrse- Aegis technology in the CG-47 DDG-51 classes will enable our est h l° °Perate against all but the tough- 0ulhfeats—which must be reserved for ^carrier battle groups.
•n |L>V'ct surveillance and logistic assets the' 6 ^outh Atlantic are at the end of qUjlr tethers. A battleship SAG moving tvo i anc* silently through these waters a formidable challenge to the hrn'Ct SUrve‘Hance system with its aging, hg 'ec* assets. Our SAG, on the other p,)r( ’ would count on regular P-3C sup- ljttar|d perhaps further air support from Pale"1' nat'ons such as Brazil. Ponta De froanhas is only a few hundred miles l'50n*^e maj°r Port °f Recife, and only chok m''es fronl Africa. This is a natural task 6 f0'nt through which most Soviet \vere®r°uPs would pass. If a Soviet SAG Atjato Pass unopposed into the South
bv j lc’ which could be accomplished y deploy, • ■ • ■
the impact on merchant shipping
would be immediate and disastrous. Distances make a major air strike against a Soviet SAG unrealistic. A submarine counter is possible, but our submarines are likely to be employed in higher threat areas. In addition, physical limitations on weapon loads make harassment about the only viable tactic for a single submarine operating in these waters. An obvious solution to this scenario (which is not limited to the South Atlantic) is the surface action group. With long-range air support, and logistical and additional air support from friendly nations, a SAG could keep the South Atlantic open for friendly shipping.
ASUW Deficiencies: Among the things we do not have is a comprehensive body of tactical decision aids for ASUW, which require calculation and publication. Experimenting with these hard numbers will move us out of the “testing the water” stage, and into one where the full strategic value of surface action groups can be readily deployed. A SAG commander must make optimum use of limited search and attack assets, minimizing variables that result from simple inattention or inexperience.
Why the concern for ASUW? Numerous tactics to deploy Harpoon, and even Tomahawk, abound in various publications. Tactical “experts” can point to numerous missile shots where picture- perfect communications were maintained, the target hulk location was known for days, no neutral merchant traffic existed, and a countdown to launch was achieved that resulted in simultaneous time-on-target of all (operable) missiles. But our own fleet experiences are quite different. Simultaneous time-on- target in a tactical environment is rarely achieved; in practice, simultaneity may not even be the right thing to do. Recurring mistakes and lessons learned from our ASUW operations with pick-up teams of ships, submarines, and aircraft have demonstrated there are no tactical experts in ASUW, except perhaps the Soviets, who have been practicing more specialized coordinated anticarrier warfare for years.
We have found that ASUW, more so than the other major warfare areas, requires an additional measure of tactical expertise. We need to work out, on a “steady-strain” basis, electronic warfare, Navy tactical data system interface, command, control, and communications, firing and coordination doctrine, LAMPS and air wing employment, and a multitude of other problems which can only be resolved by having a team of people and platforms work the problem over time.
Battle group integrity would be enhanced if we could orient our efforts toward training and deploying several surface action groups, as we have described them, within a carrier battle group. Nominally commanded by a tactical destroyer squadron commander, these SAGs would alternately operate with the carrier and her air wing, and independently as a detached multimission task unit. In areas where there is no routine carrier battle group presence (for example, the South Atlantic), our strategic objectives may be accomplished by a three to five-ship surface action group, including attack submarines and patrol aircraft. The sufficiently armed SAG able to fight in a three-dimensional threat environment can become a primary contributor to maritime superiority, and the backbone to naval tactics in areas where a carrier battle group is not available. Moreover, a SAG should be operationally flexible and fully capable of employing air wing strike.and surveillance assets in conjunction with organic weapon systems, should the tactical situation dictate.
Our experience in operating ships within the framework of a SAG was that normal tactical thought processes, which slanted toward antisubmarine and antiair warfare, were stimulated to inject an offensive-minded attitude into our wardrooms. Our pilots’ ready rooms have possessed this attitude for years. On the other hand, the destroyer force, normally attached to the carrier’s umbilical cord, has not emphasized offensive tactical proficiency, but has concentrated on antisubmarine or antiair warfare tactics which are reactive and defensive.
It is not an accident that the new DDG- 51 class is named for an individual who remains the ultimate destroyerman, who epitomizes the concept of offensive antisurface warfare. We need to become Ar- leigh Burkes; to train our crews and design future combat systems that will support coordinated ASUW. Tomahawk- tactical air coordination is made even more potent through the offense-in-depth provided by maritime patrol aircraft and attack submarines armed with Harpoons. Our Navy is at an important crossroads of strategic and tactical thought. Let’s start operating it in coordinated, offensive fashion. Antisurface warfare, conducted within the framework of several surface action groups, is the warfare emphasis we see for the future.
Captain Battaglini is Commander, Destroyer Squadron Fourteen; Commander Frank is operations officer on board the USS Iowa (BB-61), and Mr. Ervin is an engineer with the Aegis project at the Naval Surface Weapons Center in Dahlgren. Virginia.
Multiplying Our Contract Advantages
By Commander Ronald A. Marchetti, Supply Corps, U. S. Navy, and Lieutenant Commander James S. Anderson, Supply Corps, U. S. Navy
The passage of the Fiscal Year 1982 Defense Authorization Act, Public Law 97-86, lifted many statutory barriers that had previously limited the use of multiyear contracting as an acquisition strategy. Multiyear contracting is a method of contracting for goods and services in excess of current year (but no more than five years) Department of Defense (DoD) requirements. In a multiyear scenario, money is budgeted, appropriated by Congress, and funded in annual increments. The contracting agency retains the right to cancel its requirements for all unfunded program years after the first year. In the event of cancellation, the contractor is protected from loss of unamortized costs up to an amount stipulated in the contract (a cancellation ceiling).
Multiyear contracting is a strategy intended to provide DoD with the benefits of lower costs through increased contractor learning, the avoidance of repeated start-up costs, and the reduction of administrative expenses in placement of contracts. In addition, the long-term commitment for performance affords new sources an opportunity to compete and lessens the risk borne by new entrants to the marketplace. Finally, multiyear contracting provides contractors with a capital investment incentive that may be unequaled by the terms of any other contracting arrangement.
In this vein, the use of a multiyear contracting technique to stimulate and foster heavy capital investment for repair and overhaul of Navy ships appears appropriate. With the relaxation of the cancellation ceiling approval threshold, and the authorization of the use of single-year monies to finance multiyear contracts for supplies and services in the 48 contiguous United States contained within the new law, multiyear contracting can be used to reduce the risk that has precluded private capital investment in this industry.
Navy ship repairs and overhauls are unique commodities. The increasing complexity of electronics and weapon systems make regular overhauls less sus-
Navy shipyards, occupied with work related to nuclear power plants, need private yards to perform complex repairs and overhauls on Navy ships; multiyear contracting can provide the private yards with the economic incentive to do the work.
ceptible to fixed-price contract types. In addition, major overhauls also require contractors to possess significant physical resources—e.g., piers, cranes, synchrolifts, and dry docks. Many of the Navy’s master ship repair contractors possess neither control over nor access to such facilities. Inflationary pressures, high interest rates, and, above all, the uncertainty of guaranteed future work seem to discourage independent investments that may cost $10 to $80 million.
Defense Acquisition Regulations (DAR) set forth the conditions under which multiyear contracting may be considered. Multiyear contracting may be used when:
► The need for the requirements is firm and continuing.
► The contract will realize significant benefits or cost savings by encouraging effective competition or promoting economies in performance or operations.
► The requirements are technically stable.
► If noncompetitive, the item will be obtained only from the sole source during the multiyear period.
► Risk of cancellation is low.
► High confidence exists in the contractor’s cost estimates and capabilities.
Current regulations allow multiyear contracting in both competitive and noncompetitive acquisitions. However, firm fixed-price contracts or fixed-price contracts with economic price adjustments must be employed. Except for the escalation provisions in the latter, unit prices for each item in the multiyear requirement must be the same in all program years. Although cancellation charges o the contract need not be obligated in ad vance, they must be funded.
Overhaul and repair of surface ships encompass extensive maintenance aC tions performed by a public or private shipyard. The types of maintenance ac tions performed include repairs to a ship’s systems, modernization of equip ment through installation of major altera tions, and dry-docking of the vessel. T Navy’s current policy is to overhaul ships in or near the ship’s home port to mini mize family disruption and improve ere morale. Other key factors considered determining the industrial facility which a ship will be overhauled inclu ship complexity (nuclear or non-nucie propulsion and type of weapon system b fleet operating schedule, material tea ness requirements, shipyard WOIlCa. and qualification, shipyard capacity- pability and capacity in home port are > and DAR applications to private en prise requirements and small business
Because a contractor is unable to ve the material condition of all systems , fore the ship is delivered to his yard, s ^ repair and overhaul entail several sets ^ work specifications requiring “open a inspect” evolutions in order to deterd1^ the precise status of various equip111
c. a*00*
yards.
either public or private, are fore-
30%
'■on
^°ntinue to accomplish a minimum of
fropj' ,a§reement may not be restrained the
ay can obtain an MSR agreement be „,.e commencement of the work. MSR
'-ll'*- ’ •
Rjutent are firm-fix priced in type. effQever> not all ship repair and overhaul tgss are awarded in this manner. In the pnSe to strong encouragement from ti0l)eneral Accounting Office, invita- 0r bid have given way to requests
and systems. Thus, in this environment, a str,ct categorization of either supply or Service effort cannot be employed.
Navy shipyards overhaul the fleet’s m°st complex ships, submarines, cruisers. aircraft carriers, guided missile destroyers, and frigates; a large investment ln specialized skills, facilities, and equip- n?en| >s required. Ships of lesser com- P'exity (amphibious, auxiliary, and sup- P011 ships) have been overhauled in c°mniercial shipyards. However, an inCreasing number of complex combatants 1 * be overhauled in the private sector °Ver the next several years because of lncreasing complex ship workload in the Public shipyards. In 1981, seven combatants with complex weapon systems were H^rhauled ;n the private yards; by 1984, ls number will increase to about 23. No °rt-term changes in the number of ship(ecn- It is further indicated that nuclear: Pable shipyards will be more heavily (jjv°lved in nuclear ship work. Thus, re will be a shift of more non-nuclear nipiex ship overhauls to the private
sector.
As a consequence, private industry thgst strengthen its capability to overhaul ant c°mP'ex systems found in combat- tS' Current planning calls for the Navy
°f ship maintenance and modemiza- Work in the private sector, arg aster sbip repair (MSR) “contracts” Unique agreements, the legitimacy of lch as a contracting form is upheld by rne Essentially, an MSR agree-
a nt is a multisource basic ordering ement containing specifically ap- rcVet* classes that are unique to the ship aTair and overhaul industry. Contracts aawardcd as job orders under the MSR M4ement. Private concerns desiring an .agreement must apply to the Navy bjj’ 'I granted one, become eligible to on Navy ship repair and overhaul ^ISR ^r'vate firms which do not hold an 0,11 bidding on Navy work, provided
fore
thin' 's established, among other t^in®8’ by a preaward survey to deter- eSse b the contractor possesses the nec- tecp resources (e.g., management, c0mn,Ca1’ ^oi'ibeS' an<l financial) to ac- Push the overhaul and repair work. a8te 0r<3ers awarded under the MSR for proposals. And the Navy has awarded several cost-type contracts for ship overhaul and repair. These contracts contain standard cost-type (supply) provisions, not MSR clauses. All awards have been competitive in nature and only bidders who hold MSR agreements have submitted proposals. Thus, the validity of the Navy’s view that only qualified ship repair and overhaul firms should bid on these efforts seems to be both recognized and upheld by industry.
In solicitations for the accomplishment of complex, large dollar value overhauls over the past two years, the Navy requests for proposals have stated that a cost-type contract was contemplated and that formal source selection procedures would be used. A significant feature of the source selection process has been the identification of several ship repair firms which lack substantial physical assets, skills, and facilities to be competitive for contract award. In several instances, the Navy has had to provide key assets— e.g., dry dock facilities—or “split bid” the awards to ensure the dry dock portion of the overhaul is accomplished by a qualified source.
The Navy’s move toward requests for proposals resulting in cost-type contracts has permitted the grouping of two or more ships into multiship lots. These ships have been of the same class. The work package, including specifications, has been referred to as “notional” because of the Navy’s inability to draft complete specifications for ships in the work package beyond the lead ship. Thus, all of the ships are bid to the lead ship’s specifications with the understanding that follow-on individual ship’s specifications will be furnished about .120 days before the commencement of overhaul. This technique affords substantial flexibility to the Navy in accomplishing emergent work, the installation of various system alterations, and configuration control.
Another improvement in contracting for ship repair and overhaul was the establishment of a solicitation area policy. Such a policy, which limits the solicitations to the smallest of three geographical areas in which adequate competition is expected to be obtained, home port area or coastwide, is aimed at implementing the Navy’s objective of performing ship overhauls at or near the ship’s home port.
Thus, three key changes have been made: a shift in emphasis from formal advertising to negotiation of cpst-type contracts; solicitation and award of multiship option packages; and the establishment of a uniform solicitation area policy. It has been expected that these changes would successfully recognize the entrance of more complex ship repair procurements into the private sector, improve implementation of the overhaul-in-home-port policy, and lead to an increase in private-sector industrial capacity near major home port areas.
Although the Navy emphasizes the goal of high-quality private sector overhauls, a strong commitment from industry will be necessary to ensure that work on Navy ships is completed within budget and schedule constraints. As more and more combatant ships are overhauled in the private sector, emphasis will be placed on applying new technology to improve the private sector’s industrial work process, plant equipment, and facilities. Such improvements should result in a reduction of overhaul costs and duration; but these improvements will not be forthcoming without sufficient support and recognition by the Navy. One form of encouragement would be significant contractual incentives. This will motivate industry to build and develop a robust industrial base for ship repair and overhaul where shortfalls exist.
To respond to the Navy’s overhaul in home port policy, an acquisition strategy must be fashioned that recognizes the procurement techniques required for many overhauls (negotiation, formal source selection, and cost-type contracts), while channeling sufficient contractual incentives to areas that lack sufficient ship repair facility capacity.
Recent Navy experience has indicated that profit, as determined under current weighted guidelines techniques, does not provide sufficient incentive to alleviate the risk associated with a contractor’s long-term construction of a ship repair facility. A recent interview with an executive of a West Coast ship repair company revealed that a dry dock large enough to accommodate the majority of surface combatants would take at least two-and-one-half years to construct and represents a $40 million investment. A survey of defense contractors conducted by the National Security Industrial Association indicated that the minimum return on assets (after taxes) for capital acquisition is 15%. In light of the necessary movement toward cost-type contracts, it is infeasible that a profit or fee level range sufficient to provide the overwhelming minimum return on assets considered necessary by industry could be authorized for an expenditure of this magnitude.
The Navy is currently packaging many multiship solicitations for contract award by using the “notional” work package technique (complete specifications for
One drawback to this strategy |S
The battleship Iowa’s recent overhaul at Ingalls Shipbuilding Division of Litton Industries in Pascagoula, Mississippi, is visible proof of the Navy’s commitment to have at least 30% of its ship maintenance and modernization work done in the private sector.
lead ship only) to price optional follow- on ships. Though multiship packages have been intended to provide an incentive for facility improvement, they have not been successful. The Navy’s unilateral right to required performance of the follow-on overhauls, though generally exercised, still requires a contractor to shoulder an unreasonable amount of risk in assuming that the future work in the option ships will provide an amortization base for a repair facility capital improvement venture. Too many variables, unknowns, and schedule slippages can void any guarantee of future work the contractor may entertain.
In recognition of the permissive language of the 1982 Authorization Act, recent expedited implementation regulations, the encouragement of innovative applications, and the imminence of changed DAR provisions expected to sanction expanded use, it is possible to explore multiyear contracting as a viable capital investment incentive for the ship repair industry. A recapitulation of the facts presented earlier illustrates that a cancellation ceiling approval threshold large enough to accommodate ship repair facilities is now within the domain of the services, and that single-year monies can be used to fund multiyear contractual agreements. A multiyear, multiship package assembled for a specific geographical area with ship repair facility shortfalls poses the best available contracting alternative to provide industry with sufficient incentives to embark on a $40-$50 million capital acquisition venture. Such an arrangement, however, requires careful and detailed planning and execution with a continuing perspective on the conditions under which Congress has endorsed multiyear contracting.
A ship repair multiyear contract poses unusual, albeit not overwhelming, challenges. A growing recognition that cost- type contracts are more suitable for major ship repair availabilities forces one to explore a multiyear cost-type arrangement, with adequate protection against “buy-ins” and suitable cost control leverage. Though ship repair is generally considered an effort of only moderate—at its extreme—technical risk, one can hardly characterize the specifications as being stable. The unknowns inherent with an “open and inspect” effort, the unique material condition of individual ships, and the inability to finalize a work package for follow-on ships at the outset of any multiyear arrangement require the presumption of contract growth through new work. The use of the experimental notional work package technique would seem to militate against the classical multiyear technique. Cost accounting standards may prohibit full amortization of ship repair facilities within the maximum five-year boundaries of a multiyear scheme. Therefore, incentives in addition to the risk-diminishing cancellation ceiling may be necessary to encourage capital acquisition progress. Finally, the use of single-year monies to finance out-year long-lead material acquisitions, a major source of multiyear savings, must be further explored.
One of the primary benefits of a multiyear ship repair arrangement is the early identification of the planned overhaul site for all ships within the multiyear package. Such identification is in accordance with the goals of the policy to minimize fleet disruption caused by less than timely decisions on an overhaul site. In addition, multiyear contracting makes possible a sufficient contractual incentive, by reducing the contractor’s risk, for substantial ship repair capital investment. By tar
geting the solicitation and award l~ specific geographical area, full con'f ance with Navy policy (overhaul in ho port) may be realized. ^e
It is striking to recognize that there alternative solutions to geographicals repair facility shortfalls other than c° tract incentives. But military construe projects, reassignment of home PortS’n0t an abrogation of home port policy are „ considered viable because of high c ^ or political sensitivity. Therefore- multiyear contract strategy seems t°^t the best contracting solution and the overall solution to ship repair faC' [f) shortfalls. Cost savings are expect be realized in increased learning f°r 1 ^ tical follow-on ship work items an x early economic lot purchases of long' ^ material. Also, some savings may he fected by the contractor’s involveH1®/1. s. the planning process for follow-on s j Finally, the exploitation of the exp3*1^. multiyear concepts to ship repair is sidered beneficial in its appli!Sw innovative techniques to a cornn that until now was not considered sus tible to multiyear contracting
|9tP
need for the Navy to provide interl _(0r cilities while those which the contr^ ^ is acquiring are being constructed o^ veloped. Another option would ^ build the multiship package with
er)d ships that would not require use of the facilities. Although varying solutions can be postulated, an important portion of Planning the acquisition will be resolving the issue of interim facilities. Another tfajor disadvantage to the strategy is the complexity of contract administration necessary for success. The contractor’s Progress on facility development will Pave to be continually gauged, cost incurrence and control will need to be watched, and new work, work deleted, or cost overrun must constantly be negotiated and priced. Schedule and quality emphasis will also be constantly shifting.
The final detriment to a multiyear cost-type contract is the inherent lessen- jng of termination flexibility as a solution P P°or performance by a contractor. Xcept in the final year of a multiyear ^augement, termination of the multi- ^car contract will invoke the provisions the cancellation clause for the out- ye.ars. The expense associated with a termination action is infinitely greater than at associated with failing to exercise an option under the current multiship confuting technique.
Though it may be possible to demon. ate some measure of cost savings asso- lcaed with advance procurement and anting on a multiyear contract, the validation of actual overall cost savings accruing to the Navy from a multiyear arrangement, in comparison with a series of single-year or single-ship contracts, may not be possible. Given the inevitable differences between ship platform maintenance requirements, the analysis required to determine the benefits of multiyear buys of weapon systems cannot be performed in a single-year to multiyear ship repair comparison. One must also consider the cost savings associated with the improvements to the ship repair mobilization base that is the main objective of this recommended contract. How does the opportunity cost of acquiring the long-term benefit of correcting a geographical ship repair facility shortfall enter the savings computation? It may be that the inability to precisely forecast cost savings, despite concurrence that it will result, is both an advantage and a disadvantage to the ship repair multiyear scheme.
Multiyear contracting is by no means a panacea for nationwide economic ills and their impact upon mobilization base capabilities. Nor is this essay meant to serve a purpose other than to suggest a general framework in which this procurement technique can be applied to a commodity that until now would not have been considered a multiyear candidate. It is considered that a multiyear contracting strategy to attract capital facility investment can successfully be adapted to the acquisition of ship repair and overhaul. The planning, execution, and administration of such an acquisition will be a challenging task, and it should only be undertaken with a full realization that certain risks will have to be assumed by the Navy in its adoption. In addition, the classical multiyear mind-set must be overcome in order to obtain the regulatory relief necessary. Despite these obstacles, it is an experiment that will fully exploit the expanded multiyear approach sanctioned by Congress; such a strategy poses the only workable solution to correcting geographical shortfalls of ship repair and overhaul facilities.
Commander Marchetti, a 1970 graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, earned an M.B.A. from the Univer sity of Virginia in 1978. Currently, he is the contracting officer for the ship overhaul acquisition branch of the Naval Sea Systems Command.
Commander Anderson earned a B.S. from the University of Notre Dame in 1972, and an M.S. in procurement from the Naval Postgraduate School in 1980. He is now a contracting officer in the shipbuilding contracts division of the Naval Sea Systems Command.
Jjoint” Operation
'V Quartermaster First Class Robert A. Laahs, U. S. Coast Guard
to k nd§e- He had spotted what appeared the ?,a converted fishing vessel. We told \Vj]|. "Id's commanding officer, Captain vesslarri Flanagan, U. S. Navy, that the
ta ^T<en our five-man U. S. Coast Guard 1.5lCal law enforcement team left Nor- c .’ Virginia, last summer for a 30-day <j( 'Se on board the USS Kidd (DDG- b T we were hoping to make a big drug p st at sea. But we had no way of antici- a. *nS the extraordinary action we were 'jf to encounter.
the ”e ^lrst *ew days of our cruise toward ^Caribbean in one of the Navy’s most tine e^U* §u'ded missile destroyers were plaVentful. Our team spent the days ex- intgninS our law enforcement mission— 0r dieting drug smugglers—to the sail- spe °n ^oard the Kidd. Our nights were for \ °n l'lc bridge, searching the horizon SeSUspect vessels. Boatswain’s Mate tea ^ ^"*ass Rich Burke, one of our eVe . Ambers, was standing watch the
the t)1^ w*len he caHed me to
cha " c°uld be smuggling drugs. He ^8ed course and followed her.
Cn dawn broke, we got a better look
at the vessel and we became more suspicious—she was bow heavy. Several antennas attached to her deckhouse were bristling in the morning sun. The name Ranger was stenciled on her bow in crude letters, and the home port—Tela, Honduras—along with the name, was stenciled on the stem. We had radioed the Seventh Coast Guard District operations center and asked for verification of the vessel’s Honduran registry. Finally, after three hours, we received word that the Honduran Government had no record of a registered vessel named the Ranger. Without valid registration, the Ranger was considered stateless and therefore subject to U. S. law. We hailed the skipper of the Ranger and requested permission to board his vessel. He replied that we were in violation of international law and he would not allow us to board. At that point, tactical control of the Kidd shifted from Commander, Second Fleet, to Commander, Seventh Coast Guard District. The full resources of this guided missile destroyer were now committed to a joint interdiction effort.
General quarters were sounded that afternoon, and the Kidd's deck guns and missile launchers were cycled in full view of the Ranger. We hoped to convince the skipper that it was in his best interest to allow us to board his vessel. Yet he still maintained that we were in violation of international law, and he refused to stop his boat. That evening, we were granted permission to fire warning shots. A Coast Guard Falcon jet from Air Station Miami arrived on scene and soared over the Ranger, wailing its siren, and ordered the master to stop his vessel; he again refused. At 1901, shots rang out from the destroyer’s fantail-mounted 50-caliber machine gun. The shots landed well in front of the small white boat. Twice more that evening, warning shots were fired. Well after dark the Kidd received permission to fire disabling shots at the Ranger. It was decided to wait for first light to take such action.
At 0700 on 16 July, a final set of warning shots was fired over the suspected drug smuggler. When the skipper once again refused to stop, the Kidd's 50-cali- ber gunner carefully aimed at the starboard quarter of the Ranger and 18 rounds quickly barked from his weapon. After a 36-hour cat-and-mouse game, the Ranger's engines finally stopped.
We boarded the vessel shortly after 0800. As I took my position at the after hatch cover, I was greeted by the strong odor of marijuana. A search of the vessel uncovered 881 bales of “pot” worth almost $23 million. Through our translator, we informed the master and crew of the Ranger that they were under arrest and put them in handcuffs. The prisoners were then taken on board the Kidd. With the help of three Navy engineers, our boarding team steamed the captured boat in company with the Kidd to a rendezvous with the USCGC Sagebrush (WLB- 399) off the coast of Puerto Rico. Our
Navy comrades-in-arms then departed and continued on to Naval Station Roosevelt Roads in Puerto Rico; the Sagebrush then escorted us into the Coast Guard base at San Juan.
In early August, the Kidd sailed into Port Everglades, Florida. The Seventh Coast Guard District Chief of Operations, Captain William J. Kime, U. S. Coast Guard, met the Kidd when she arrived. In a brief statement, Captain Kime said,
“Flopefully, your efforts have sent an important message to drug traffickers. They’ll know that the Navy is out there providing tremendous assistance to us, and every time they see a gray ship, they’ll wonder if there’s a tactical law enforcement team on board.”
Captain Flanagan summed up the Navy s role in the war on drugs:
“We wander around the seas in these great armed ships. We do this in queS| of peace, not in quest of any kind o war, including war on drug vessels- But if they don’t obey the laws, then we’ll have to establish order.”
The joint Coast Guard-Navy seizure of the Ranger marks another milestone >n the U. S. Government’s war on drugs-
Petty Officer Laahs, a quartermaster in the U. ® Coast Guard, has served in the Coast Guard s >P Chase (WHEC-718), Northwind (WAGB-282). a Bear (WMEC-901). Currently, he is the assist operations officer for the Seventh Coast Guard trict’s tactical law enforcement team.
haulers with other fuel elements highly visible, targetable, and serve as a one-way-to-depletion resupply expansion of the Marine Corps’
fuel
actic'
al
supply system into the forward taj support role is out of context wlttives
Dragon Wagon’s acquisition oD-)e^‘antl
Beyond the Beachhead
By Major Gary I. Wilson, U. S. Marine Corps
We marines are obsessed with our amphibious mission. As a result, our thinking is often parochial and limited to the beachhead. We tend to lose sight of the fact that the amphibious landing is simply a means of getting to the battle, and a prelude to the land operations associated with a naval campaign. The amphibious mission continues to be the Corps’ raison d’etre, as it should be. What is not well recognized is that the Marine air-ground task force has other inherent characteristics of great significance and potential. It can:
► Provide a combined arms force for a wide range of crisis situations
► Fight within a joint or combined task force in a land campaign
► Furnish an expeditionary force
To perceive the Marine Corps as nothing more than a specialized amphibious force, limited to seizing beachheads, indicates a lack of appreciation for the potential of naval campaigns. Also, it is an unrealistic evaluation given the current projected scenarios. Today, there are few scenarios not requiring the MAGTF to operate less than 100 miles inland and fewer still not requiring austere and, to some degree, self-sustaining operations through the first 15 days after the landing. These are benign entries.
In terms of hostile entries, there are equally few scenarios not requiring austere operating conditions. Viewing scenarios from this aspect challenges a great deal of doctrine and traditional amphibious warfare thinking. If, as anticipated, the Marine Corps will play a substantial role in the U. S. Central Command
ground combat component, the Corps must explore methods of supporting mobile marine forces operating 75 to 300 miles inland and beyond.
Within the Corps, two schools of thought have emerged. Many marines advocate “homesteading” on the beach until an adequate force and logistic city are established to handle the perceived threat. Other marines, small in number, advocate hitting the beach and rolling forward at prudent speed to surprise and engage the enemy inland.
Who is right or who is wrong is a moot point. Either choice will require changes in doctrine. Giving the development of a tactical combat support system (CSS) high priority and having it treated as a separate entity with respect to weapon system acquisition are paramount.
Each newly acquired weapon system carries with it an attendant logistics burden forced to fit the profile of available CSS. Until CSS is made more adaptable to overall mission requirements and those mission requirements related to and translated into flexible doctrine, new and contemporary weapon systems will not meet desired performance standards.
Many commanders do not see CSS as their tactical concern, and a discussion of tactical logistics quickly puts combat arms personnel to sleep. To most of them, CSS is regarded as a system which always provides and never really fails. Sure, it is slow at times, but it never fails to any disastrous degree. And, obviously, CSS is not a weapon system: it cannot shoot, go bang, or fly.
Philosophically, this is true—realistically, it is not! CSS is a tactical weap° ' Without CSS, vehicles do not m°V0J weapons do not shoot, and aircraft do n fly. Loss of CSS generally means an a ^ favorable outcome in combat. L . should be considered as a tactical weap ' instead of taking a backseat to operati°n choreography.
Indications are that current CSS nie^t ods in the area of fuel resupply are adequate to meet the challenges ofs porting Marine air-ground task force s narios 75 to 300 miles inland. Curr ^ fuel resupply methods, and those to introduced with the “Dragon Wag0 logistics vehicle, impose a signit'c burden upon the tactical commandc rates of advance, which will be reStrlC|1j- to the speed of the logistic support ve^f cles. The current fuel resupply system ^ a Marine air-ground task force ha . functional place in benign entries an° ve support areas. However, it does not a place in the forward tactical a.^f Dragon Wagons married to cont" ^
only
The
fi-
with the
object'
of “truck cargo.” The capability* ^ function of this vehicle in the >° an tactical area may be exaggerated1 1 1 j, attempt to justify acquisition tn multiple-emission capabilities. . to A new logistic approach is nee 0f provide a tactical and organic me
Uel resupply to the forward MAGTF. A upique method of operational fuel resup- P*y was demonstrated for the Marine I v?S 'n September 1982, using an plt P-7 tracked landing vehicle and two '' 53 helicopters.
. The LVTP-7 was configured with a 200-gallon bulk fuel system, consisting 1 an antisurge fuel bladder and integral
of
disi
ton,,
^ntander a significant degree of flexi-
and organic independence. The two
Pensing unit. The entire system was . esigned as a “slip-in” package requires no modification to the LVT. The LVT chcal refueler was operated in the l,r|/surf mode and negotiated rigorous train with the slip-in fuel package in ;,Uce. There were no adverse effects on
he vehicle.*
Two CH-53 helicopters were config- with a 2,000-gallon aerial bulk fuel uvery unit consisting of an antisurge adder and dispensing unit. The CH-53 r'3l bulk fuel system was used in sup- r11 of desert helicopter operations at dij °te *ocat'ons- Fuel resupply was con- ra^ted directly from the helicopter’s
FVT tactical refueler and CH-53 *al fuel delivery unit offer the combat
i . **
^lity
a erns are a matched set in support of e forward MAGTF. The LVT refueler ,.
^83 p ^VHson. “Logical Logistics.” November si0_ roceedings, pp. 116-119, for further discus- 0 the LVT slip-in fuel bladder.
can serve as an organic means of fuel resupply for tracked or combat wheeled vehicles without dependence upon fol- low-along conventional wheeled refuelers. This means the MAGTF will have a rapid force response in terrain suited to tactical vehicles (tracked/com- bat wheeled), but not easily negotiated by conventional wheeled tankers/refuelers. The LVT refueler is not externally different from other armored vehicles, and tar- getable as a logistic support asset.
In addition, the LVT is not limited to a one-way-to-depletion role; the slip-in bladder may be readily removed, and the vehicle made available for other missions (i.e., medical evacuation, troop transport, and cargo hauling). The LVT refueler may also continue to perform its fuel supply role by being refueled from aircraft, ground storage sites, or another bladder-configured LVT.
The CH-53 aerial bulk fuel unit carries 2,000 gallons of fuel, which is deliverable at a speed 15 times that of conventional wheeled tankers. The range extension feature of the system allows fuel to be transferred from the bladder to the aircraft’s main fuel tanks. With range extension, the CH-53 is able to deliver fuel supplies far in excess of its normal oneway capability, with enough remaining fuel to top off an LVT refueler.
Both the LVT slip-in package and CH-53 aerial bulk fuel unit can furnish a
Were it not for an effective combat support system, these marines would have no TOW missiles to fire from their launcher. Without supplies, neither battles nor wars are winnable, which is why logistics needs to be thought of as a tactical weapon.
refueling capability in support of helicopter gunships and Harrier aircraft displaced and sited forward in marginal terrain. This is important when considering the need to maintain helicopter gunships with the Marine air-ground task force and the range enhancement achieved from an organic fuel resupply concept. In addition, the landing craft air cushion vehicle can be configured with a similar bladder system to carry 18,000 gallons of fuel.
Within the Marine Corps community, it may be argued that the ranges to which this equipment and concept will provide resupply fuel are not realistic, and current and projected equipment will support projected scenario requirements. This argument is parochial and reflects the basic problem of attempting to effect change with existing equipment and doctrine not related to mission requirements.
The Marine amphibious brigade (MAB) is a significant force. Augmented with air-to-ground and air-to-air aviation, the MAB possesses sufficient force projection power to serve as a formidable threat. However, there is little probability that enough time will exist in the initial employment of an MAB to permit the establishment of a large logistic site on the beach while awaiting the arrival of additional CSS assets. The enemy’s probable reaction to our “homesteading” on the beach will be to evict us, primarily with his air power, a threat marines have not faced since World War II.
Major Wilson is a graduate of the State University of New York, currently assigned to the Fourth Marine Division.
i^MPS III: Blue water Technology, Backwater Tactics
oy I •
■eutenant Commander G. Pat Tierney, U.
b
Nj Member the days when the U. S. $Cay advertised the LAMPS Mk-I (SH-2 tj0 Pr'Je) helicopter as a purely “reac- \Ve|^ry antisubmarine warfare vehicle? r^a ’ image must have stuck, because Or, ^ People still think that “pouncing” orenerny submarines is the dominant— Th°nly-—tactical role of the LAMPS-I. theory that commissioned LAMPS . Navy
was that the mother ship would first gain sonar contact; then, at the right moment, the helicopter would leap into the air and pounce on the submarine.
But the fact is that the Mk-I is hardly ever used in such a fashion. Air officers, commanding officers, and screen commanders in the fleet have found plenty of more useful missions for this ship-air
weapon system: sector and bearing
searches, delousing plans, airborne alerts, surface surveillance, intelligence collection, and over-the-horizon targeting, to name a few. Antisurface warfare has become a valid mission for the light airborne multipurpose system called LAMPS.
One big reason why the “pouncer”
empirical, experimental, and anal}'11' studies. One tactical study made on continuous airborne alert concept is P sented here in analytical form to dem° strate the feasibility of keeping a Mk" ^ airborne in a screen environment for10 r periods of time. ,
A continuous airborne alert was proposed for SH-2s in 1974; experime1^ were later conducted in the Medite11^ nean. A mathematical model was dev oped in 1980 at the Naval Postgrads ^ School to study the probability of succe ^ of a finite number of Mk-III aircraft i ^ battle group screen in maintaining ^ fixed-point station for a prcdeterrtUU^ period of time. In practical terms, experiment sought to answer two
:ti0°
aft
aired
to submarine threats, how many
the
the total number of hours that an a*rcr can be operationally flown (up
With greater airborne time and better technology, LAMPS-III can do much more than hunt for subs. For starters, it may be able to provide continuous surface surveillance for battle groups.
tactic has few followers among tacticians is because it tends to defy coordination. For single ships, on-deck alerts have some merit, but the screen or multiLAMPS environment bears new problems and opportunities. It is not realistic for each LAMPS to spring into the air whenever someone yells “Contact!” Multi-LAMPS operations drove the fleet to some fresh thinking, but the pouncer tactic still persists in the minds of tactical theorists.
Unfortunately, the pouncer theory drove almost all the tactical design work on the LAMPS Mk-III (SH-60B Sea- hawk). Most of those studies revolve around a placid, prewar, open-ocean setting with idyllic water conditions. A multitude of tactical and surveillance aircraft eliminates the need to worry about air and surface threats. LAMPS then dutifully responds to a contact from a long-range towed array or hull-mounted sonar. Under these circumstances, an on-deck reaction may be a good tactic. However, an aggressive, multithreat combat scenario could make the on-deck alert ineffective. LAMPS Mk-III, like Mk-I, should have a variety of tactical air plans for an array of tactical situations, including poor acoustic water conditions or launch weather, carrier battle group or surface action group air defense, and carrier aircraft mission saturation/attrition. Other tactical areas that need planning include dominant missile and or air threat environments, ocean surveillance ship LAMPS Mk-III coordination, and the
cruise missile submarine threat.
Fortunately, LAMPS Mk-III survived the theoreticians and—thanks to the engineers—emerged as an extremely versatile system. With longer legs (four hours air time), advanced navigation, better maintainability, and several high-technology sensors and communication systems, the Mk-III can adapt to almost any tactic. Unfortunately, tactical design parameters spilled over into the tactical employment doctrine. Those delegated to pioneer Mk-III tactics must now ride out endless at-sea hours reinventing the tactical wheel; but the Mk-III should survive this stage too. The short legs, poor navigation systems, and antiquated equipment that retarded the growth of earlier shipboard helicopter systems are not barriers to the abundance of new tactics within easy reach of the SH-60B Seahawk. The plum of this tactical cornucopia is surveillance. Theoretically, the Mk-III can perform any type of surveillance mission, and some of these missions can be shared on a single flight. The Mk-III’s long-range data link capability of acoustic, electronic, and radar intelligence—out to missile threat ranges—will prove to be priceless.
Many attempts are made to use the Mk-I system in a surveillance mode, with limited success. This is because its habitat lies within the direct control of the screen commander/antisubmarine warfare commander when better airborne platforms do not. With the advent of the composite warfare commander concept and the demise of the LAMPS element coordinator, LAMPS falls under the antisubmarine warfare commander’s screening forces. Surface surveillance and antisurface warfare missions become secondary. Because Mk-III multimission potential transcends the boundaries of surface, subsurface, and air warfare commanders, it may be awkward to expl011 Mk-III’s fullest potential. However, the Mk-I system has proven that it can pr0" vide surface surveillance and act as a quick-reaction vehicle against submarine threats in the same flight, with the same loadout and air crew. The Mk-I also a fords the screen some degree of antiship missile defense; this kind of mission ver satility can and should blossom wlt Mk-III.
What, then, is lacking for the Mk-III to convince the tacticians that it has a * more ability than previously advertises ■ The key is endurance credibility'' workable, reliable method of keeping 311 aircraft, or several aircraft, airborne perform long surveillance mission^ Could a battle group or convoy screen helicopter ships keep aircraft contm ously airborne, as in the case of aircra carriers? How many screening heliesP ters would be needed, and how long mea could keep up airborne coverage na^
been the concerns that inspired seve r • ticai
the
tions. To establish a continuous aid alert picket station for radar and e tronic surveillance and airborne reac are required? And how long can. e(j picket station be reasonably ma'n!a!raft before mechanical failures cause a'r|Ljr to miss their launches or abort
flights? . hie W
The model was made believam
using a variable that most aviators un
stand: operational availability (P°ArC’raft
statns)
divided by the total number of hours ^ given period. For example, supP0* 0f SH-2 were listed as flying, or caPa^jVe(i flying, a mission for 600 hours >n a 7 jts month. With 720 hours in that moot > Poa would be 83%. . j[lC]e-
, if84
We will also assume that Poa lS0f- pendent of flight hours flown with a
launch Jpi) of ,aUnch
range of monthly flight hours (2000 hours per month). In this operational environment, each Mk-III detachment ^'11 operate and be supplied indepen- ently, and each will fly for combat read- |ness on a monthly basis unless it is down.”
If we have a number (N) of single-airCraft Mk-III detachments on board ships w'thin the screen and only one airborne a,rcraft is needed on a common station at Orne, then we would have a parallel rstem of aircraft station keeping gov- ^ed by the law of composition of independent probabilities; we can represent ls mathematically. If only one aircraft S Dofpntially available to make the first of a series, then the probability that aircraft actually meeting that is:
Pi = POA
It
th°wpver> with two aircraft available for e first launch, their unavailabilities are umplied and subtracted from one:
pi = 1 - (1 - POA)(l - Poa) =
1 - (1 - Poa)2
N aircraft available for the first q ncb’ the probability of having at least e aircraft meet that launch is:
Pi = 1 - (1 - Poa)N S( ^Ssuming the first launch gets to its the'011 anc* comPletes Its mission, what is get Pr°bability that the second launch will tj0ii°ff the deck to relieve the first sta- ’ Since the on-deck population is now " 1). the probability that at least one aircraft will be up for the second launch is:
Pi = 1 - (1 - Poa)N~‘
The probability that the first and the second launch can be made is:
Pi = P, x P2 = {1 - (1 - Poa)n} x {1 - (1 - Poa)^1}
For M successive launches, the probability (Pm) is:
Pm = {1 - (1 - Poa)n} x {1 - (1 - P0a)n_1}m_1
Pm then represents the probability that M successive launches can be made independently over a period of time. If we pick a minimum acceptable probability of success for this plan to work, say 75%, then using the current fleet P0a, and the number of aircraft N in the screen, we could determine M (the reasonable number of successful launch cycles).
If you use an average assumed Pqa of 70%, then—with four helicopters—we can complete 11 launches with 75% probability of success; 11 launches means a finite number of hours on station. Using Te for endurance time and TA for total airborne on-station time, and assuming (for example) that the Mk-III picket station was an average of 15 minutes flight time from all ships, then:
Ta = M x Te - (2 x 15 min.) or, with a 4.0 hour TE:
Ta = 11 x (4.0 - .5) = 38.5 hrs.
With five aircraft in the screen, airborne alert time jumps to 126 hours; with only three aircraft, TA drops to 13.1 hours.
With sufficient numbers of aircraft, airborne alerts can cover large, tactically significant windows of time for the screen. Granted, these figures are only estimates, and these models depend on several assumptions that may not be valid in wartime. However, they show that, in naval encounters, a screen has alternative tactics available to it; 38.5 hours of airborne time are the gift that four aircraft offer to the screen. If used wisely, the LAMPS Mk-III can be realistically applied to expanded-role missions.
The “M” in LAMPS still means multipurpose, and the sophisticated, multiple systems of the Mk-III are ready to take on more work. The continuous airborne alert study should open other possibilities for Mk-III tactical expansion. Navigation and endurance problems have been solved, but the Mk-III’s tactical doctrine still flies the faded colors of the sit-on- the-deck-and-wait pouncer theory. It is hoped that by the time Mk-III deploys in strength, warfare commanders will hold the air plans to an array of tactical employment schemes. This intricate ship- aircraft system deserves more than a mono-tactic.
Commander Tierney has twice served as a LAMPS officer-in-charge with HSL-33 and HSL-34. He also has served in the USS Koelsch (FF-1049), USS Spru- ance (DD-963), and USS Lockwood (FF-1064). He holds an M.S. in ASW systems technology, and is currently attending the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island.
j^etrating the Water Curtain
By K“rt Stehling
Nue to.
or severely attenuates most
foi
w*re must be embedded within a
fac'116 op tbe most >ntractable problems ]0nln8 the U. S. Navy today is that of tg^'fi'stance (more than 500 kilome- tQ ’ secure communications from land theSubmerged submarine anywhere in °Pa°Ceans’ at any depth. The water is
Ifjhp /. -
reas01 radiation which can transmit friable amounts of information. djst0Ustic means work fairly well for ateences less than 100 kilometers, and Hi0j ' Pecially suitable for communication ?s arnong submarines, surface ships, verv, u°ys. Electromagnetic radiation at <et0n,8 wavelengths (more than one ki- Piass Cr'^ can Penetrate the ocean water ff0rrito almost any point in the ocean S'nce a/anb'base(J transmitter. However, ti°n | ae antenna size increases propor- tennay .w'tb wavelength size, the an- very large piece of real estate, a project which thus far has proven to be impractical for the Navy.
Since 1969, the Department of Defense (DoD) has been trying to install antennas for long wave radiation at sites in Wisconsin and Michigan. The current DoD project, known as ELF for “extreme low frequency,” has been stymied by an injunction handed down by a Wisconsin court last January. The plaintiffs, the state of Wisconsin and Marquette County in Michigan, argued that DoD’s 1977 environmental impact study on the project was inadequate, and that construction on ELF should not be approved until another study was made; DoD has appealed the decision.
Laser light, in the visible green wavelength region, can penetrate water distances up to a kilometer, which suggests possibilities for close-range communication, but nothing for long-range traffic. A 1981 experiment conducted by GTE proved the feasibility of communicating through clouds -and ocean water with blue-green laser light.
Not only can acoustic energy, light beams, and long wavelength radiation penetrate seawater, but some nuclear and subnuclear particle (nonwave) radiation can easily pass through the oceans and the entire Earth! The most penetrating nuclear particle is the neutrino: this elusive entity carries no charge, and may not even have a mass. The neutrino is suspected of emanating from the sun, the Milky Way, and most stars in other galaxies, hurtling through millions of light years of space, unhindered by masses of hydrogen, dust, or other matter.
When these solar, galactic, or
FNAL coded beam somewhere in ocean, how does he know where to
the
look
Id pr°' radi3'
tion, detectable by photoelectric sens°r
of
QCe'
ROCK
extragalactic neutrinos reach the Earth and its atmosphere, they pass through it. About one in a trillion seems to collide with a nucleus of atmospheric or terrestrial matter, which generates a shower of secondary particles called cosmic rays. If one wants to study the origin—or at least the energy—of a neutrino, one must study the properties of these secondary particles; the most energetic and prominent one is the muon. Unlike the neutrino, this particle has both an electrical charge and mass. Thus, the muon readily interacts with its physical environment; if it happens to be water, the muon’s path is revealed by a faint flash of light that resembles the trail of a meteor in the sky. Such light pulses, called “Cerenkov radiation,” are produced by a complex interaction between the muon and the water’s atoms of hydrogen and oxygen.
In the 1970s, I participated in a series of undersea cosmic ray experiments off Grand Bahama Island. The reason for doing them underwater was that water is a medium that filters out stray and “uninteresting” cosmic ray particles (protons, electrons, etc.) which clutter photographic or electronic detectors with unwanted “noise.”
A colleague, Dr. P. Kotzer of Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington, and I began to study muons with photographic means at shallow depths (less than 100 feet) in an undersea habitat. This technique of capturing and identifying muon and other particle tracks on photo emulsions poured within the habitat proved to be moderately successful. We soon realized, however, that the signal-to-noise ratio would be improved at greater depths, since only the most energetic, and therefore most useful, neutrino-muon combinations would be present.
It was also apparent that photoelectric detection of Cerenkov radiation would greatly surpass the photographic technique in resolution and sensitivity. Thus, we began a series of dives to 1,000- and 2,000-foot depths. For these dives, we used the Johnson Sea Link (JSL) minisub owned and operated by the Harbor Branch Foundation (HBF) at Ft. Pierce, Florida. This nonprofit organization, a leader in undersea research in the United States, had previously organized and supported a number of 1,000-foot dives to the ocean floor. There, HBF had placed an aluminum chamber (the “cosmic” chamber); through the JSL’s lockout hatch, we transferred a photographic emulsion cassette into the chamber and left it there for several months. A cassette was retrieved every six months or so and the emulsion plates were developed. The many faint trails in the emulsions were then analyzed at the University of Washington’s cosmic ray laboratory.
The photoelectric detection system (known as “Cyclops”) used in these experiments was one of several funded by the Office of Naval Research in Arlington, Virginia. They were used to detect neutrino-muon activity in large water tanks a few miles from the exit beam of the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory (FNAL) in Batavia, Illinois. The FNAL generates energetic protons which in turn can produce neutrinos at the exit beam end of the circular accelerator, almost a mile in diameter. It was the Navy’s interest in considering neutrinos as message carriers to U. S. submarines around the world which motivated the Lermi Lab experiments. The Office of Naval Research wanted information on neutrino-muon distribution and interaction in water so that estimates could be made of the problems of physics and engineering physics which might attend later experiments in the ocean. In this regard, three questions arise concerning such an investigation: How can the neutrino beam be directed into the oceans? Can information be impressed upon the beam? Can a target submarine detect such a beam?
First, the Fermi Lab’s beam could be “bent” at some new location in its circular path, so that the proton-neutrino beam would cut across the United States and emerge into the Pacific Ocean near, say, Seattle. Baseline evaluation experiments could be conducted in that area near Puget Sound, using available academic, naval, and industrial facilities.
Currently, the beam exits in a northerly direction toward Lake Michigan. If beam directions were to be changed for the Navy, then an orifice would have to be created at a point permitting the beam to exit tangentially toward the Northwest. The proton beam would not exit by itself. It stays in its circular orbit because it is bent by hundreds of peripheral electromagnets, whose field both focuses and curves the beam until it exits at a designated point where a special set of magnets “twists” the beam tangentially away from its circular path in the “storage ring.” A new set of magnets would have to be installed at the new orifice. This could be an expensive business, costing many millions of dollars; the accelerator costs hundreds of millions.
Second, whether the requisite data or information needed by a submarine commander could be carried by the neutrino beam is doubtful. The protons whirling about in their storage ring can be pulsed, and certain signals resembling Morse code can be applied. The neutrino beam resulting from the protons would bc pulsed in the same fashion. If a simple code word were to be sent, the accelerator could handle it—anything more complicated might need some redesign of the machine at a cost of many millions!
Third, we have seen that special type5 of detectors, such as those used in ® JSL, can detect the interaction of nen trino-muon activity in the ocean. If ® submarine commander is to “view’ tn
for it? Although the beam may have expanded from a few feet to several miles 1 diameter by the time it reaches the ocean- it may still not be wide enough to <nte^ cept our submarines, which could scattered all over the Indian and PaC11 oceans. .
One answer might be to have certa neutrino-muon detector and data storag arrays deployed at dozens of deep °c ^ bottom sites around the world. These ceiving centers, never more than a 1 hundred miles from submarine opera11,, areas, might be queried periodically long-range sonar. More likely, those c ters could acoustically rebroadcast neutrino beam information they recei which the submarines would pick upc tinuously, or else extract with a co query. A neutrino-muon detection sys1 could be placed inside a submarine » were big enough. Water would not used as the detection medium, but ra some scintillating liquid which cou duce bright flashes of Cerenkov
But once again, we face the problern positioning the submarine where she intercept the neutrino-muon beam- 1 estingly enough, a neutrino comma ^ tion system—just like the long length radiation system—cannot be i by submarines to return messages- ( practical neutrino generators, why ^ as large as buried antennas, are still large—much too big for any curre operational submarine. ,
Navy physicists are well aware 0 ^ problems and limitations of a neu ^ muon communication system; it 111 ^nt- that these will prove to be insurrno^, able. There is at least some meager fort for the Navy from the realization^t|, a possible alternative to long wave u. radiation exists to achieve global co ^ nication links to our submerged sU rine forces.
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Mr. Stehling is a senior scientist at the anic and Atmospheric Administration in Maryland.
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