Joint Planners Respond at Oklahoma City
By Commander Charles A. Spencer, MSC, U.S. Navy
The Federal Response Plan provides federal assistance to state and local governments impacted by a catastrophic disaster or emergency. The recent massive bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, on 19 April 1995, brought the joint regional medical planners assigned to Headquarters, 5th U.S. Army, Fort Sam Houston, Texas, into action under the Military Support to Civil Authorities concept. The Joint Regional Medical Planning Office—staffed by medical planners from the Medical Service Corps of the Army, Navy, and Air Force—was notified of the disaster within an hour of the actual explosion. Oklahoma City is within the 5th Army’s area of responsibility, so the emergency operations center and crisis-action team were activated. The joint regional medical planners initially comprised the crisis-action team in the emergency operations center and advised the commanding general of the medical requirements in Oklahoma City.
In accordance with the Federal Response Plan, the federal government mobilized resources in a functional approach to augment state and local response efforts in Oklahoma City. Medical support was coordinated under the direction of the U.S. Public Health Service. The initial local medical response to the bombing was superb, possibly because the local medical community recently had tested their ability to respond to a disaster situation during a city-wide emergency exercise. Military assets in the immediate medical response to the bombing included ambulances and personnel from nearby Tinker Air Force Base and Medical Assistance to Safety and Traffic helicopters from Fort Sill, located about 50 miles away. Although not specifically requested, a Critical Care Aeromedical Transport Team and a Mobile Field Surgical Team from Wilford Hall Air Force Medical Center and Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio were dispatched to Oklahoma City in the event their services were needed.
The Regional U.S. Public Health Service representative arrived on scene as part of the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s advance element of the emergency response team. Personnel from Medical Assistance to Safety and Traffic quickly established a disaster field office, from which all federal relief efforts were coordinated. A defense coordinating officer, designated by the 5th Army, and his defense coordinating element also worked in the disaster field office, which had operational control of all military assets brought to support the disaster.
The joint regional medical planners were not sent to the scene initially, because there was minimal military medical involvement following the immediate response efforts. However, by Friday, 21 April, a multiagency coordinating center was established—from which all rescue operations could be planned, staged, and coordinated. Navy joint regional medical planners went to Oklahoma City on Saturday and functioned as the federal medical representative to the multiagency coordinating center, providing a vital link between the local medical authorities and the U.S. Public Health Service. The joint regional medical planners also served as a critical medical link between the disaster field office and the military support unit at the coordinating center. Since the center operated on a 24-hour basis, the joint regional medical planners were augmented by Air Force officers from Tinker Air Force Base Hospital. Medical Assistance to Safety and Traffic personnel provided necessary communications and computer links to all agencies within the disaster field office and the multiagency coordinating center, allowing the joint regional medical planners to keep the 5th Army commander and his staff medical advisor apprised of all ongoing medical issues.
By Saturday, it became evident that the local medical examiner and his staff could not cope effectively with the enormous requirement to extract, transport, identify, and prepare the remains of the victims of the bombing. A disaster mortuary assistance team, consisting of pathologists, anthropologists, funeral directors, and administrative support personnel, arrived on scene to assist the local medical examiner and his staff with the identification and preparation of victims. A U.S. Public Health Service-sponsored civilian medical support unit positioned at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center provided logistical and management support to the disaster mortuary assistance team. A 15-person military graves registration team from the 54th Quartermaster Company, Fort Lee, Virginia, helped remove victims from the bomb site.
A concern voiced early by local medical authorities was the possibility of biohazards at the bomb site and their adverse effects upon the urban search-and-rescue teams. Since they did not have the expertise to assess these hazards either locally or within the state health department, they sought federal assistance. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in its role as primary agency for dealing with hazardous materials, but since the EPA had not been activated in response to the bombing, the joint regional medical planners referred this issue to the U.S. Public Health Service representative, who, in turn, contacted the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. Within hours, the Center for Disease Control had a team of four specialists en route to the scene. On Monday, 24 April, the Center for Disease Control team met with local and federal health-care representatives and safety officers of the urban search-and-rescue teams to gain insight into their concerns, followed by an on-scene biohazard task assessment. Their opinion was that onsite personnel had established excellent procedures for all aspects of health and safety, and the personal protective equipment and clothing used during rescue operations were adequate for the minimal biohazard task associated with that type of situation.
Included in the federal offices within the 20-year-old building were recruiting offices of the Army and Marine Corps, Army and Army Reserve Public Affairs Offices, and the Defense Audit Agency. Of the 169 fatalities in the explosion, 20 were Department of Defense affiliated, (7 active duty and 13 civilian employees, retirees, or dependents). Another 33 persons affiliated with the Department of Defense suffered non-lethal injuries, including 17 active duty. The joint regional medical planners, with the able assistance of the managed care coordinator at Tinker Air Force Base Hospital, tracked the status of the active-duty patients hospitalized as a result of the explosion.
Access to the bomb site was extremely limited and tightly controlled because of the inherent dangers present, the instability of the building remains, and a declaration as a federal crime scene. All debris removed from the building was examined carefully for evidence. Anyone allowed entry to the site had to have preapproved permission and wear a color- coded wrist band for security and identification purposes. Access to the medical examiner’s office was equally tight because of the sensitivity of the tasks being performed. During postmortem examinations, all remains were x-rayed for evidentiary purposes.
By Thursday, 27 April, it became evident that no additional survivors would be found in the bomb site, and the multiagency coordinating center was deactivated. At that time, the joint regional medical planners relocated to the disaster field office and assisted the U.S. Public Health Service representative in working other health-care issues, including providing for psychological counseling for rescue personnel involved in the operation. The joint regional medical planners mission concluded on Sunday 30 April.
The utilization of the joint regional medical planners during the Oklahoma City tragedy was somewhat different from their traditional role, and it serves to illustrate the flexibility the military medical planner must demonstrate when responding to major disasters in the civilian sector. Although a minimum of military medical assets was used in Oklahoma City, a thorough knowledge of the Federal Response Plan, including the interactions among the various health-care agencies, was necessary to carry out the mission effectively. Military medical planners can anticipate increasing relationships with their civilian counterparts as the military expands its responsibilities further under the Military Support to Civil Authorities concept.
Commander Spencer is a Senior Joint Regional Medical Planner at Headquarters, 5th U.S. Army, Fort Sam Houston, Texas.
Predicting Acoustic Propagation in Shallow Water
By Commander Michael Ford, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
In one of several recent articles on littoral warfare in Proceedings, Eric Rosenlof made a dramatic case for the reality of the diesel submarine threat in littoral waters. (See “Contingency Blues,” Proceedings January 1995, pages 53-57.)
He cited the proliferation of modern, capable diesel submarines and modern torpedoes, and pointed out some of their likely targets: sealift and amphibious ships—and Aegis cruisers and destroyers on station to provide theater ballistic missile defense.
It should come as no surprise that most littoral waters are shallow, perhaps less than 100 fathoms. In this writer’s experience, the need to operate in shallow water, particularly against submarines, has long been a source of some embarrassment for the Navy. Not the least element of this embarrassment has been uncertainty about the reliability of deepwater acoustic warfare experience and capabilities when transferred to the shallow-water environment. Since that is where the action is going to be, it seems reasonable that—in addition to tactics and weapons—the Navy should assemble the analytic tools to operate there. Prediction of shallow-water acoustic propagation performance is an important one of these analytic tools.
The ocean as a medium is very conducive to sound propagation; passive sonar against submarines in the deep ocean may yield ranges of hundreds of miles. In contrast, ranges of non-acoustic sensors such as radar are on the order of tens of miles against (unlikely case) a surfaced submarine. Radar against snort and electronic support measures masts is much worse, even discounting clutter and near-surface refractive problems. Accordingly, despite continuing incremental gains in non-acoustic sensor development, antisubmarine warfare is acoustic warfare. (See Figure 1.)
Given this certainty, we must quantify sensor performance. The effectiveness of passive sonar against submarines may be addressed analytically, i.e., in quantitative physical terms, by using the passive sonar equation:
SE = SL-PL-AN-SN+DT
- SE is signal excess, the level of sound available at the receiver output for detection, location, and tracking.
- SL is the source level, the level of sound produced by the target.
- PL is the propagation loss over the distance between the target and the receiver.
- AN is the ambient noise, the non-target noise level in the sea in the vicinity of the receiver.
- SN is self noise of own platform.
- DT is detection threshold, the capacity of the receiver to discriminate between all the sound present and the desired sound from the target.
When the sonar system is just doing its job, signal excess will be zero. Systems analysts studying ASW operations have a strong interest in knowing how far away the target will be at the SE=0 point, i.e., the maximum detection range. On this parameter depend such esoterica as national force-level planning and major combat system procurement, and also such practical things as ASW tactical planning. Given the reasonable assumption of some accurate knowledge of target source level, the strongest single element in the equation is propagation loss, and prediction of this parameter becomes a worthwhile task. Predicting it in shallow water is both intrinsically interesting and very important, given today’s littoral operations.
Analysts who need to know propagation loss, either in the deep ocean or in shallow water, have a number of options that span a spectrum from the simplistic to the immense and unwieldy. Two of these may provide a useful background for understanding the approach to shallow-water acoustic propagation discussed here.
Rule-of-thumb. A first-order approximation of propagation loss can be made by assuming spherical sound-spreading loss. With addition of a value for absorption as a function of the propagation frequency, PL=20 log r + ar, where r is range in thousands of yards and a is an attenuation coefficient on the order of .001 at 100 Hertz. This rule’s weakness is that it discounts the path over which the sound energy is attenuated, and it neglects the contribution of reflections from the surface and bottom. It is, accordingly, more of a guess than an approximation, even in deep water. In shallow water, as we will see, the weakness is still more pronounced.
Table 1: Sea State vs. Frequency |
| ||
Sea | Wave Ht | Freq | X |
State | (ft) | (Hz) | (ft) |
0 | 0 | 100 | 50 |
1 | 0-1 | 400 | 12.5 |
2 | 1-3 | 1,000 | 5 |
3 | 3-5 | 4,000 | 1.25 |
4 | 5-8 | 10,000 | 0.5 |
5 | 8-12 |
|
|
6 | 12-20 |
|
|
- Modeling. The study of sound propagation in the ocean leads logically to modeling, a technique for obtaining useful solutions to problems unmanageably complex in the real world. But a mathematical model to predict sound behavior in the ocean, while vastly simpler than the real ocean, must still be formidably complex. Typically, the more complex the model, the more likely the answer is to be accurate enough to be useful. Also typically, however, the more complex the model the less usable it is by non-specialists.
Modeling acoustic propagation in shallow water presents four problems which are not particularly important in the deep ocean, but which become dominant in the shallow environment:
- Transition from spherical to cylindrical sound spreading—The transition takes place when the expanding spherical sound wave encounters the bottom and the surface. The consequence of this encounter for acoustic propagation prediction is a change of rate of sound attenuation. When the change takes place, and the time difference between the bottom and surface encounters, have a significant impact on the geometry and arithmetic of the computation.
- Dimensionally significant surface roughness—As sea state gets higher, surface roughness (wave height) becomes closer to the wavelength of the sound.
The effectiveness of the surface as a reflector is accordingly reduced; more sound is reflected in random directions. Table 1 compares the dimensions of the sea surface at several sea states with the wavelengths of some sound frequencies of interest for passive sonar.
- Disproportionate effect of bottom absorption—The composition of the bottom affects the amount of sound energy reflected versus absorbed. Absorption by the bottom is largely a function of bottom composition, and is depth-independent. In shallow water, however, there are many more reflections from the bottom. Hence, the bottom loss, difficult to predict already, has a much larger effect than in deep-water propagation.
- Unpredictable bottom reflections—The roughness of the bottom has a separate contribution from that of the absorbative quality; a rough bottom tends to scatter sound in random directions, reducing the amount which reaches the receiver. (See Figure 2.)
There is a need for a genuinely worldwide ocean model, one that can provide shallow as well as deep-ocean predictions. A principal obstacle to incorporation into the existing deep-ocean model of the factors described above, particularly those relating to bottom absorption and reflection, is a lack of detailed information about many operationally significant shallow-water areas. “The Challenge of the Coastal Shallows,” (Proceedings December 1994, pages 79-81) described a Naval Meteorology and Oceanography Command long-range plan to perform shallow-water environmental measurements in an attempt to develop the data necessary to extend the present environmental prediction system into shallow waters with useful accuracy. Given the expediencies of schedule and budget, however, this will take time.
Empirical Modeling. Because events may not wait, it would be well to have an interim prediction approach at hand. Fortunately, there is one. In his classic text. Principles of Underwater Sound, Robert J. Urick of the Catholic University of America presents a solution for shallow-water propagation loss that is both manageable and usefully accurate.
His solution is in turn based on a 1962 paper by H. W. Marsh and M. Schulkin in the Journal of the Acoustical Society of America (Volume 36, No. 6) “Shallow Water Transmission.” Schulkin and Marsh observe that adequate information about environmental conditions is rarely available, and that solutions are computationally intensive even with adequate information. According to the authors, "There is thus the need for comparatively simple equations representing the average sound field, while retaining dependence upon the principal features of the environment.”
Marsh and Schulkin were employed at the Marine Electronics Office, Avco Corporation, associated with the U. S. Navy Underwater Sound Laboratory, when they wrote the paper and had access to more than 100,000 propagation-loss measurements. These had been done in the actual ocean, as opposed to a model tank, were made in shallow water at representative passive sonar frequencies, and represented a wide range of conditions. They were thus in a position to relate theory to observation and develop a semiempirical approach to the shallow-water problem. The measurements were fitted to predicted data to generate environmentally tuned propagation expressions and to generate expected-error tables to match the expressions.
The Marsh and Schulkin expressions use bottom depth, bottom type, sea state, mixed layer depth, and frequency. Two bottom types are considered, sand and mud, which represent the extremes of bottom loss conditions. Nine discrete frequencies are used: 0.1, 0.2, 0.4, 0.8, 1, 2, 4, 8, and 10 KHz.
Their expressions for shallow-water attenuation consist of an equation to define range fields, a set of two tables for environmental conditions, a set of three equations which serve to compute the predicted loss as a function of the tabulated values, and a table of error values.
- Range fields—The prediction expressions are presented for three range fields: Near-, mid-, and far-field, which are defined as a function of the parameter H, where:
H= 11/8(D + MLD)]
when D is the bottom depth, MLD is the mixed layer depth, and H is in kilo- yards. H is further defined as the “skip distance,” the range to the first bottom reflection. Near-field is defined as range less than H; mid-field as range greater than H but less than 8H; and farfield, which is not of practical interest, as range greater than 8H.
Near-field anomaly (kL)—The near-field anomaly represents the mean contribution to the sound field of the multiple bottom and surface reflections in decibels (dB). It is represented by a nine-by-twelve matrix of values entered with sea state, mud or sand bottom type, and frequency.
Attenuation factor (ay)—The attenuation factor is the loss per cycle in dB for surface and bottom reflections. Like near-field anomaly, it is represented by a nine-by-twelve matrix of values entered with sea state, mud or sand bottom type, and frequency.
Propagation loss equations—The equations below are those for the near and mid-fields respectively:
PL=201ogr+ar+60-ky
PL= 151ogr+ar+a7- (i-1) +51og//+60-ky H
where r is the sensor-to-source range in kiloyards, and other variables are as discussed above.
Error Prediction—Error for propagation loss predictions made using the above equations is estimated by comparing actual measurements in the ocean to the results obtained from the equations under the same conditions. The probable error is as shown in Table 2 and Figure 3.
The beauty of the Marsh and Schulkin expression is that someone who has had the basic ASW courses can, with a copy of Urick in one hand and a calculator in the other, do a useful job of determining shallow-water propagation loss.
Remember: This is for shallow- water only; there is no term in the expression for temperature variation over depth, hence no allowance for refraction. Shallow water is defined as that which propagates sound chiefly by reflected paths; 200 fathoms depth is the practical limit for this assumption.
In this age of the ubiquitous personal computer, an examination of Urick will suggest to many readers that the Marsh and Schulkin expressions would be easy to implement in software. True. A good implementation would enforce the 200 fathom depth limit. For those without the time or inclination to write code, the author has written a program implementing Marsh and Schulkin. and placed it in the public domain.
Some improvements could be made to the approach as described by Urick in the course of a software implementation:
- Specific Frequencies—The Urick tables provide for nine discrete frequencies; a software implementation could interpolate for any frequency between the .1 and 10 KHz bounds.
- Bottom Type—The expressions and tables in Urick provide for only mud and sand bottom types; Schulkin and Marsh provide some more basic equations that are substantially more specific. Since bottom type is a major determinant in propagation loss calculation, and may be determined for many areas from available sonar atlases, it could improve accuracy to use a wider range of entry of this variable.
U.S. Navy concern for littoral operations has concomitant implications for shallow-water ASW, and consequently for prediction of acoustic propagation loss in shallow water. Shallow water poses substantial challenges for analysts attempting to predict propagation loss. These arise principally from a greater number of sound wave interactions with the surface and bottom than are encountered in deep water. The shallower the water, the more complex the prediction problem, yet effective and resource allocation demands a useful capacity for prediction.
The approach described can provide useful predictions of shallow water propagation loss pending the development of a large-scale whole-ocean propagation prediction model as described by Carron, Haeger, and LaViolette in the “The Challenge of the Coastal Shallows.”
Commander Ford is a Senior Engineer at Techmatics Incorporated. The executable program is available on the World Wide Web at www.techmatics.
Accessorizing Ship-Launched Cruise Missiles
By Lieutenant Shawn Hart, U.S. Naval Reserve
The USS Bunker Hill (CG-52) launched this BGM-109 Tomahawk land-attack missile during Operation Desert Storm. Suhmunitions can increase the effectiveness of such missiles—but only if the Navy decides to make it happen.
Now that cruise missiles have proved their reliability and accuracy, they should be equipped with self-propelled smart submunitions to expand their capabilities and to overcome advances in cruise missile defense systems.
The Falklands Conflict showed how devastating antiship cruise missiles could be and the employment of Tomahawks in Operation Desert Storm and Bosnia has demonstrated the reliability and accuracy that is possible in the land-attack role: the success rate for the 291 Tomahawks fired against Iraqi targets was 80%. In 1993, after Iraq failed to comply with U.N. resolutions, Tomahawks achieved an 82% success rate in a 45-missile attack on a nuclear fabrication facility and a 70% success rate in a 23-missile attack on Iraqi intelligence headquarters. In September 1995, U.S. ships launched Tomahawks against Bosnian Serb air defenses in northwest Serbia.
In all cases, the Tomahawks engaged high-value targets without placing high-value delivery platforms at risk. The lesson that potential adversaries may have learned is that most antiair warfare (AAW) hardware and procedures are ineffective against low-flying cruise missiles. Investments in cruise-missile defenses therefore will increase—but smart submunitions could offset these advances.
Smart submunitions could not only increase the capabilities of every platform capable of firing cruise missiles, but also increase the survivability of individual missiles.
The conventional payload of a Tomahawk is limited to either a single high-explosive warhead in the BGM-109B land-attack missile and BGM-109C antiship missile, or packets of bomblets in the BGM-109D. Harpoon missiles carry a single high-explosive warhead. The new Joint Standoff Weapon (JSOW) is scheduled to carry either two types of bomblets or a single warhead.
Guided submunitions could degrade an enemy's AAW capability. Cruise-missile defense advances are developing along three lines:
The gun approach is based on the wall- of-metal theory in which a gun with a high firing rate continuously fires at an incoming cruise missile.
The missile approach follows the traditional surface-to-air missile (SAM) engagement sequence in which a fire-control system computes a fire-control solution and fires a semi-active missile that homes on the radio-frequency energy reflected by the incoming missile. Other SAM systems use autonomous infrared- guided missiles that home on the heat given off by the target.
The newest approach uses a laser to confuse or burn out components in the incoming cruise-missile seeker.
The following ship or land-based engagement-planning example illustrates the effect of these AAW defenses. Since any attack plan must incorporate enough missiles to overcome the defenses, consider a target that requires two missile impacts for destruction. Because some missiles will undoubtedly be shot down by the AAW systems, additional missiles must be launched to ensure that two will get through. Although submunitions would be too small to destroy most targets, they could damage AAW system hardware, disrupt systems, cause confusion—and decrease the number of additional missiles required for any given mission.
Radar antennae are particularly susceptible to damage from submunitions because antenna covers must be radar-transparent and therefore they cannot be heavily armored. Weight restrictions on ships and mobility restrictions on many land-based systems further limit the amount of protection afforded to AAW system components. As a result, penetrators or small pieces of shrapnel may be able to disrupt AAW systems by knocking out the vulnerable components.
If several incoming cruise missiles each discharged four submunitions traveling at Mach 2.5, several things would happen. First, the command structure would have to set engagement priorities. Any decision to engage one or more of the new incoming missiles would require a new fire-control solution. If the radar crosssection of some of the submunitions were altered to make some appear larger, further confusion would result. If the number of submunitions saturated the defense system’s close-range capabilities, some of them would get through.
Several factors would determine the necessary range for an anti-radar smart submunition. Cruise missiles fly at low elevation where the earth’s curvature prevents surface vessels or land facilities from detecting and engaging them at great distance. Once detected, a fire-control solution must be computed, an AAW missile fired—and must fly out to engage the incoming missile. This means that the necessary range is closer than the vessel’s horizon and may be inside many vessels’ maximum AAW range.
When fired against vessels, submunitions may be effective against those with layered AAW defenses and against multiple smaller ships with one AAW system that may be operating close together for mutual defense.
Various submunition designs might be effective. The Navy is developing the Advanced Rocket System (ARS)—a 2.75-inch rocket with a 15,000-meter range in the loft mode, a ten-pound payload, and a velocity of 1,000 meters per second. Specifications for this weapon include an antipersonnel variant that can cover 15,000 square meters and an antihelicopter variant that can cover 2,500 square meters when fired in a four-round salvo. A modified version of the ARS may be effective against AAW defenses when fired as a submunition salvo from a cruise missile. The Hydra 70 was designed with specifications similar to the ARS and one variant now in production, the M255 Flechette, may be effective as an antiradar submunition. Another possibility is the BLU-108 Skeet, a self-forging fragment antitank bomblet with its own infrared (1R) sensor. Targeting of these rockets could be supplemented if the vessel type were known and the height of the target radar were entered manually in the flight program prior to launch.
A submunition seeker head that could home on infrared energy or specific radar frequencies would improve effectiveness; specific radars could be targeted if radiofrequency energy sensors were incorporated into a submunition design that could provide inputs to a simple guidance system.
A wedge-shaped cruise missile dispensing system with separately packaged submunitions would permit standardized submunition development. Since several types of submunition configurations are possible, a standardized package would be cost-effective. Figure 1 shows one possible design with a submunition in a standard wedge container bolted into the airframe and connected to the payload processor with an umbilical.
Submunition targets also could be designated remotely using technology being developed under the JSOW program. This would allow for mobile land-based AAW systems—Scud missiles, for example—to be designated remotely. In addition, after expending all of the submunitions, the cruise missile itself could be designated onto a target—giving Marines the option of requesting cruise-missile support when beyond the range of naval gunfire. At sea, SH-60s with designators could prove useful in littoral scenarios where belligerent patrol boats might be mixed in with friendly and neutral units.
The next step beyond remote designation might involve a cruise missile embodying artificial intelligence that would accompany other cruise missiles during a land-attack mission, or precede manned aircraft and attack AAW threats on its own initiative en route to the target using external resources or an internal dedicated electronic support measures wedge.
An engagement-support submunition, linked to the firing platform and offering remote-control possibilities, could provide a picture of the target area, terminal control, and battle damage assessment. Fire-and-forget weapons are double-edged swords because the target must be located and identified before a weapon is launched—a downside that may be particularly relevant in the post-Cold War era where hot spots contain many players.
The danger of using a fire-and-forget weapon was demonstrated in 1987 when an Iraqi aircraft accidentally engaged the USS Stark (FFG-31) with an air-launched Exocet cruise missile in the Persian Gulf. The pilot probably thought that he was looking at a tanker carrying Iranian oil when he fired at the Stark and killed U.S. sailors. Future littoral warfare inevitably will involve friendly and neutral vessels mixed in with the combatants; therefore, to make our cruise missiles more useful, a means of positive control should be investigated.
A terminally controlled missile could be configured with one- or two-way communications. One-way communication would provide updated targeting information from the firing platform; two-way communication would provide a picture of the target area and enable battle damage assessment relays back to the firing platform. These capabilities would give a tactical action officer the options of engaging or not engaging the target. Satellites provide obvious link relays; an engagement-support submunition fired vertically outside AAW engagement ranges might be another. Such a submunition could be self-propelled or suspended from a parachute.
Figure 2 shows a fully accessorized engagement-support submunition. After being ejected from the cruise missile, the booster would fire and fall away, the folded rotors would deploy, and the motor would engage. All information collected by the cruise missile would be passed to the engagement-support submunition for relay. At longer ranges, an SH-60 might help relay sensor information for target identification. The submunition could continue to send damage assessment pictures back to the firing platform until it ran out of fuel.
Finally, to produce mission-specific missiles, one or more high explosive wedges could be added to provide additional offensive capabilities to a missile with a couple of submunitions.
Smart submunitions could increase the effectiveness of U.S. cruise missiles by adding capability and flexibility, making them more cost-effective and canceling foreseeable advances in adversary AAW systems. The bottom line is that investments in high technology translate directly into fewer U.S. casualties during conflicts.
At this juncture, it makes sense to focus on improving our cruise missiles because they have proved themselves to be accurate and reliable delivery platforms, and they can be fired from most of the Navy’s combat ships and submarines. Designing flexibility into proven systems makes even more sense when one considers that naval planners are faced with fewer resources to plan for a greater number of worldwide contingencies.
Lieutenant Hart, who this year graduated from Gonzaga Law School, Spokane, Washington, served as the Missile Fire Control Officer on the USS Arkansas (CGN-41).
SEALs Adapt to Changing Times—Almost
By Commander Thomas Katana, U.S. Naval Reserve
As the hot sun set over the SEAL Team Eight compound on a muggy day in August 1993, Construction Man Second Class Tony Gehl checked the special weapons box a final time before helping to load it into the van with the last of the SEAL Strike Platoon equipment headed for the USS America (CV-66). Along with the other 16 SEALs in his platoon, he said goodbyes to all and boarded the bus for the Norfolk Naval Base piers. The ship sailed for the Mediterranean the next morning—the third consecutive Atlantic Fleet aircraft carrier to deploy with a fully integrated Naval Special Warfare capability.
Naval Special Warfare’s efforts to adapt to a rapidly changing world and to support the Navy’s new strategic direction as described in “Forward . . . From the Sea,” have positioned the SEALs well for responding to the uncertain times ahead; SEALs on carriers is but one example. Building on past lessons learned and with an eye focused on the future, Naval Special Warfare has been aggressive in developing a wide range of new methods for operating effectively in the 21st century.
At sea, SEALs have devised methods for rendezvousing with and launching from submarines that reflect the tactical realities of a post-Cold War world. In the air, a long-range insertion capability has been developed using C-2A aircraft launched from forward-positioned aircraft carriers. On land, operations using state-of-the-art laser markers have been choreographed with strike aircraft for conducting pin point precision bombing.
Clearly, Naval Special Warfare has recognized the need to adapt to change. In one particular area, however—enlisted advancement—SEALs uncharacteristically appear to be anchored firmly in the past.
Most sailors are detailed to sea and shore-duty assignments according to their rating—a simple and effective system that matches job requirements with trained sailors. Yeomen are assigned to yeoman billets and corpsmen to corpsmen billets. In contrast, enlisted SEALs are not assigned by their rating; they are detailed as SEALs—a most effective means of matching unique job requirements with specially trained personnel.
But SEALs are not tested for promotion on their knowledge of SEAL skills. Although specially assigned, trained, and employed as SEALS—and even thought they devote 365 days a year honing highly perishable and physically demanding special operations skills—they are, nonetheless required to take an examination in their rating for advancement. SEAL Yeomen, for example, take the Yeomen exam and SEAL Hull Technicians take the Hull Technician exam for advancement. This does not make sense: Is a SEAL Yeoman a SEAL or is he a Yeoman?
This is not new. In 1979, Aviation Electrician’s Mate First Class Harry Kaanoi Kaneakua, a highly decorated SEAL combat veteran with an outstanding record in Naval Special Warfare, was selected as the Naval Technical Training Command’s candidate for Shore Sailor of the Year. Unfortunately for Harry, he was not ultimately chosen for this all-Navy honor.
As explained in a Chief of Naval Education and Training letter to the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (Manpower, Personnel and Training), the Shore Sailor of the Year selection board did not consider Petty Officer Kaneakua as the best candidate because of his age—36—and extended time in rate—9 years. The letter went on further, however, to explain that Petty Officer Kaneakua’s situation merited special attention because the decade that he had served as a SEAL coupled with the technical nature of the Aviation Electrician’s Mate rating most likely explained his past inability to score well enough to pass the Aviation Electrician’s Mate advancement examinations.
In response, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (Manpower, Personnel and Training), then Vice Admiral Robert B. Baldwin, summed up the problem as “. . . another one of those cases where we make a good SEAL try to stay competitive in something that he’s not really doing day by day.”
Over the past 15 years, several arguments have been made for continuing to test SEALs in their ratings for advancement. Foremost among these arguments is the perceived belief that the variety of different ratings in Naval Special Warfare provide a degree of work-place flexibility, establish a broad base of basic knowledge, and maintain skill diversity needed for the development of innovative solution to operational problems
These arguments quickly fall apart, however, when viewed in light of the common-sense premise that a sailor should be tested for advancement on the skills required for doing his job. Three points, in particular, support this assertion:
- Being a SEAL is a full-time job.
- Naval Special Warfare is a distinct specialty, not a hybrid of ratings.
- Special operations demand proficiency in skills found outside U.S. Navy rating manuals.
It takes an unusual individual to perform the wide range of Naval Special Warfare skills—mentally challenging and physically demanding—and which perish quickly without constant training.
As a recent SEAL Team commanding officer (CO) involved in developing innovative force employment options for Post-Cold War contingencies, I have seen first hand how counter productive the current rating-based system is. In practice, the vast majority of SEALs discard their rating on the Silver Strand of Coronado, California, upon graduation from Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training— returning to the manuals only twice yearly to cram for an advancement examination. This counter-productive charade wastes valuable time needed to keep mission-essential life-or-death skills honed.
The perception that SEALs incorporate their basic rating skills into their daily jobs is simply not true. SEALs are bright, imaginative, and resourceful sailors— carefully screened and selected for these very attributes from the best that the Navy has to offer. They are the kind of sailors who would excel anywhere—but the technological expertise and hands-on knowledge required to work proficiently in any Navy rating cannot be achieved by just studying the manual.
While I was in command, my Air Operations Department Head was a very capable and intelligent SEAL Gunner’s Mate recently turned Hull Technician who spent the little free time he had diligently cramming for the chiefs’ test. Like most SEALs, he had changed ratings in hope of finding open advancement opportunity in a rating that wasn’t too technologically intense—open not in the sense of being needed in Naval Special Warfare (SEALs, remember, are not detailed by rating) but open in the sense of being needed in the fleet. When asked whether he actually could perform any of the skills in his new rating, such as welding, he replied confidently “Yes, at least on paper.”
This is not a criticism of this SEAL’S capabilities: He is a first rate marksman, ace parachutist, and a wizard in the use of any field radio—all the skills desired in a SEAL. It is, however, an indictment of an advancement system in need of change.
Being a SEAL requires continuous skill improvements over a broad area. The never-ending training cycle focuses on honing the ability to move, shoot, and communicate—and experienced SEALs must be capable of supervising the full range of training operations. Because advancement is not tied to the attainment of specified Naval Special Warfare skills and qualifications, however—but is determined by passing an unrelated rating exam—it is impossible to gauge SEAL skills and qualifications either by rating or pay grade.
A SEAL First Class Machinist’s Mate could be qualified to supervise dive, parachute, and weapons training exercises whereas a SEAL Intelligence Specialist Chief Petty Officer may not. Although the Intelligence Specialist Chief had to meet specific requirements of the Intelligence Specialist rating to be advanced, he did not have to meet any Naval Special Warfare technical requirements.
Naval Special Warfare has left to the Fleet Rating community the responsibility for setting the standards and determining the skills required for SEAL advancement. Consequently, responsible growth and effective management of enlisted SEALs is impossible to achieve.
A SEAL Team is an in-depth mix of technical skills, profound individual physical capability, and uncommon will. The technical skills come from special training, military courses, civilian schools, and off-duty involvement in many demanding activities—parachuting, for example. The resulting expertise has proven invaluable in developing innovative solutions to operational problems.
The new methods for operating effectively in the 21st century mentioned earlier were all developed by forward-thinking enlisted SEALs. Two extraordinary SEAL Chief Petty Officers—an Electrician’s Mate and an Intelligence Specialist—developed the procedures for rendezvousing with and launching from submarines. A SEAL Gunner’s Mate turned Hull Technician perfected the C- 2A long-range insertion capability; and Naval Special Warfare’s foremost laser expert, a SEAL First Class Boatswain’s Mate, spearheaded operations using state- of-the-art laser markers.
This diversity of skills, resourcefulness, and imagination is not the result of any rating “A” school training acquired very early in a SEAL’S career—it is the result of the countless special military and civilian schools that each SEAL attends throughout his Naval Special Warfare career complemented by outside interests, experience, and a willingness to walk the edge.
There is a better way to advance SEALs. Naval Special Warfare trains to a Mission Essential Task List (METL), a concept that provides the architecture for maximizing training by identifying those skills that are needed most to accomplish Naval Special Warfare missions. Using METL, time and training is best directed in honing only those skills that are necessary to achieve mission success. The concept demands focused effort and requires that SEAL training relate directly to mission accomplishment—and so should testing for SEAL advancement.
It is time to rethink the current advancement process. At the minimum, advancement requirements should be aligned with SEAL training and mission requirements. SEALs not only should train to METL—they should promote to METL. They should be tested on the skills that have already been identified as essential to conducting Naval Special Warfare operations: combat swimming, long-range small boat navigation, parachuting, field communications, and the precision use of special weapons. These skills are not found in Yeoman, Hull Technician, or Electrician’s Mate rating manuals.
Naval Special Warfare must take responsibility today for determining the skills and standards required for testing and advancing SEALs tomorrow. It is time for change, Despite the rating insignia a SEAL wears on his shoulder, a SEAL is fundamentally and foremost a SEAL.
Commander Katana is an attorney and businessman in Baltimore, Maryland. He has commanded SEAL Team Eight and, earlier in his career, served as the Naval Special Warfare Enlisted Detailer at the Bureau of Personnel.
We’re Short-Changing Wounded Marines
By Chief Hospital Corpsman Daniel T. DuBois, U.S. Navy
The Marine Corps should reevaluate its methods of evacuating front-line casualties. Despite the train-like-you fight Pep talks, there has been no real change in medical evacuation (medevac) policy.
Marine Corps reluctance to commit even a limited number of helicopters to medical evacuation is outlined in Fleet Marine Force Manual 4-50 (Health Services Support Manual) and recent personnel manning documents. Assignments of Search-and-Res- cue Medical Technicians (Navy Enlisted Classification 8401) were curtailed by Headquarters Marine Corps on the basis of “The Marine Corps doesn’t do search-and- rescue” and “medevacs are lifts of opportunity”. This flies in the face of Joint Publication 1-02 that clearly states: “Each service is responsible for providing forces capable of performing CSAR (Combat Search And Rescue) in support of its own operations in accordance with its assigned functions.”
An 8401 corpsman was on board when we got Captain Scott O'Grady out of Bosnia—yet we have no mission for 8401s? How can we let a wounded Marine die in a medevac helicopter when something as simple as correcting an airway problem might have saved his life?
None of the five Marine helicopter squadrons that have deployed to the 1st Marine Aircraft Wing since last April have brought any 8401s with them. Three of the five, however—those that have CH-46s and UH-1Ns—have placed two of their general duty corpsmen on flight status to cover assigned medevac missions. The 8401s that leave the Wing are not being replaced; it seems easier to kill a program by neglect rather than open assault.
Present plans call for evacuating casualties from the front lines using stretcher teams and high-mobility multipurpose wheeled vehicle (Humvee) ambulances. Once a wounded Marine is placed in an ambulance, however, there is no way a corpsman can render anything but the most basic care. Casualties are stacked two-high in a cage that prevents even such basic aid as cardio-pulmonary resuscitation—these ambulances are not set up to provide advanced life support. Remember, time is the enemy of the wounded; the longer it takes to get a casualty to surgery, the lower the chance of survival.
The concept of the “Golden Hour” was first noted in Vietnam and later perfected by the Baltimore (Maryland) Shock Trauma Institute. Simply put, the sooner in the first hour a wounded patient is in the operating room, the greater the chance of survival. A civilian victim of a drive-by shooting, a wounded police officer, or even a traffic accident victim on a rural highway often have a better chance of survival than a wounded Marine—and not just because of their peacetime environment. Dedicated helicopters with trained medical personnel have made all the difference.
The golden hour is not suspended when a casualty is loaded on a helicopter. Patients continue to bleed internally, intravenous lines still must be monitored, and a sucking chest wound can turn into potentially fatal tension pneumothorax in a matter of seconds. Patients with head wounds sometimes vomit and their air ways must be cleared. Much can happen to a stable patient between the time he is loaded on a helicopter and his arrival at a hospital after a ten-minute flight. Don’t take my word for it—ask your local surgeon how long it takes a patient to die from an air way compromise, unread tension pneumothorax, or a host of the other complications that can accompany blast injuries or gunshot wounds.
While “Forward . . . From the Sea” presents a vision of the future, it no longer includes medical personnel trained in aeromedical evacuation and inflight medical care. Since the Marine Corps cannot dedicate helicopters to the medevac mission, the solution—at the very least—is to assign trained 8401 corpsmen to the squadrons that will inevitably get the job.
The proliferation of standoff weapons has made over-the-horizon operations more attractive. Air-cushion landing craft (LCACs) can make rapid trips to the beach and unload troops and equipment, but they are not equipped to handle litter patients. An article in the January-February 1995 issue of Navy Medicine suggested installing Marine Corps expeditionary shelters on the LCACs as an expedient. This provision, however, will not reduce the time to get a casualty back to the ship—and a heavy sea state would add even more time. Indeed, it is a step back in time to Korea and early Vietnam before corpsmen were assigned to medevac aircraft. The helicopter remains the fastest means of getting a wounded Marine to definitive medical care in the midst of battle.
The 8401 is an aircrew-qualified hospital corpsman trained in the airborne delivery of advanced pre-hospital trauma life support. Such corpsmen have proved invaluable over the years in combat. To say that they are unnecessary in joint operations or that the Marine Corps does not have a mission for them—or lacks the means to train them—is to ignore history.
While the Army has dedicated airborne medical assets, they often are not available early in an operation. This can be true even when resistance is light or absent. Elements of Marine Aircraft Group-39, conducted all flight medevac missions for the 58 days of Operation Restore Hope in Somalia. Marines often are called upon to extract personnel in danger or cover military withdrawal operations.
You ask, “Why can’t we just grab a corpsman to fly on every medevac?” Consider the nature of providing airborne medical care where three major factors come in to play: environmental, physiological (the effect off flight on the provider), and crew coordination.
Typically, helicopter noise and vibration rob the corpsman of most of the cues he relies on to evaluate his patient. Noise prevents the use of a stethoscope to evaluate lung sounds and it becomes difficult to take blood pressure. Vibration can confuse an inexperienced corpsman when taking a pulse—is that a rapid, thready pulse or just the helicopter’s vibration?. Even simple tasks such as starting an IV are more difficult during Bight. It takes a certain skill, which—in turn takes training and practice.
Physiological factors can affect the corpsman. Vibration and rapid changes of direction and altitude during terrain-following flight can combine to induce motion sickness or vertigo; building up flight time is the way to overcome these problems. How about night missions where night-vision goggles are required? Proficiency is mandatory and can be gained only through practice. Inadvertent use of a white light, red-light filter, or even a green chemiluminescent light by a corps- man unfamiliar with night-vision goggles could temporarily blind a pilot or crewman and endanger the crew. Night-vision goggle training is essential.
Crew coordination—the use and integration of all available skills and resources to get the job done—is critical on medevacs. How wise is it to thrust a corpsman with little or no flight experience into a situation where he is battling vertigo at low level, at night, while attempting to evaluate a patient or save a life?
The cost of training seems to surface in this age of right-sizing—yet there is an off-the-shelf solution. Train the 8401 corpsman to act as a second crewman or aerial observer, a position often filled at squadron level by maintenance personnel who undergo standard Navy flight physiology and water survival training, after which they are placed on temporary flight orders and put through a local flight training syllabus.
Instead, the 8401s should be assigned to specific squadrons for such additional duties rather than held at the Wing level. Once the corpsman has completed the training syllabus, he could split his time between AO and medical duties. Flight surgeons already do this. Assigning two or three 8401s to each squadron would increase flexibility.
It is time to shift the paradigm surrounding the role of the 8401. Saying that “Medevacs are lifts of opportunity,” or “That’s the way we did it in Vietnam,” or “We’ll just grab a corpsman” is analogous to saying that “Night-vision goggles are too dangerous to use in a helicopter.”
The Navy and Marine Corps invest millions of dollars training their personnel for combat and providing them with modern equipment and weapons. Placing a flight-inexperienced corpsman on a helicopter medevac makes no sense.
Chief DuBois is serving with the 1st Marine Aircraft Wing. A graduate of U.S. Air Force Para-Rescue Medical Training, he has logged more than 1,500 flight hours while serving in a variety of Navy and Marine Corps search-and-rescue billets, including Operation Deep Freeze.