Navy
060117
The 1,000-ship navy – a symmetrical (balanced) defense against asymmetrical warfare
by Fred Edwards
Nov. 17, 2006 – In the early decades of the U.S. Navy, a captain of a ship sailing in the waters
of a foreign country often would find himself (no female captains then) required to make
decisions normally made by the President of the United States, or at least an American
ambassador. He had to add gut instinct to the orders he had received before getting underway.
Why? Communications.
The only guidance came either from another American official who had left the United States
after the ship got underway, or from written instructions brought to the captain by a courier, or
news he might receive in a foreign port about changes in world affairs, or perhaps even a simple
letter from home.
The late 20th and early 21st centuries have changed this. Today's naval commanders operate
under an umbrella of instant communications, where they might be talking directly with a
combatant commander, or maybe the secretary of defense, or even the president.
This technology continued to increase after the Cold War, and was coupled with a cost-driven
emphasis on U.S. ship construction and operations, and driven by global asymmetrical threats.
The sum of these events has created a demand for a 21st-century, globalized maritime strategy.
Accepting the challenge is Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Mike Mullen, who is the architect
with his "1,000-ship navy."
He reviewed the concept during a forum in Newport, R.I., on June 14 by outlining three aspects
of globalization that the United States must face as a maritime nation.
First, globalization of world markets and economies, corporations and peoples requires maritime
security – an extension of the "freedom of the seas" of the past.
Second, competition for energy is bound to create conflict.
And third, cooperating countries must be prepared to meet asymmetrical threats at sea:
"terrorists, proliferators of WMD and other weapons, organized criminals, smugglers, drug
traffickers and pirates" as well as the spread of ideological ideas that can create conflict.
I used the term, "cooperating countries," because the plan does not invoke a fleet of 1,000
steel-hulled, gray-painted vessels steaming in formation on patrol. It means an untold number of
craft of all sizes from countries with mutual interests that drive them to focus on stability. Mullen,
who has been promoting the idea for more than a year, called it in May “a network of
international navies, coast guards, maritime forces, port operators, commercial shippers and
local law enforcement, all working together.”
Of course, such a melange of naval and commercial water craft isn't correctly titled a "1,000
ship navy," so another name might prevail. For example, Harlan Ullman, a columnist for the
Naval Institute's "Proceedings," suggests something like "maritime partnership," after NATO's
"partnership for peace."
Whatever the ultimate name, Adm. Mullen has launched the blueprint and has mandated it to be
operational within 18 months.
He began with a test concept called "global fleet stations," where navies, coast guard
organizations and civilian services join to conduct cross-training in support of common interests.
Furthermore, the fleet stations around the world will use ships and riverine boats to assist and
promote good will with other nations' maritime services. The Navy's southern command has
offered to coordinate the initial test of the fleet station concept in its area of responsibility, which
includes the waters surrounding Latin America and the Caribbean.
As a preamble, the Navy southern command headquarters hosted U.S. Embassy naval
attachés from 18 countries last September in Mayport, Fla., to discuss theater security
cooperation. During the conference, the attachés, along with representatives from the State
Department, U.S. Southern Command, and U.S. Coast Guard, discussed plans for future
operations in the AOR, including counter-narcotics operations, maritime security, and country
visits to build partnerships and community relations.
The Navy southern command followed that conference with one in late September to consider a
pilot program for Global Fleet Stations. Attending that meeting were key officials of the Navy,
Marine Corps and the Coast Guard who will responsible for implementing the pilot. Their
commencement target date is spring of 2007.
When Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld used to speak of "transformation," many thought
he was referring only to the Army. Nonetheless, Adm. Mullen, the Navy's top admiral, is smack
dab in the middle of transformation. He has hit the deck running to create a multinational group
of maritime interests that will operate with 21st century communications. This will create a
symmetrical force to face asymmetrical threats.
060623
After the bash it was time for a cup of Joe
by Fred Edwards
June 23, 2006 -- Exactly Ninety-two years ago July 1, Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels
added a new term to the Navy's lexicon – a cup of Joe. Here's how it happened.
Daniels' General Order No. 99 of June 1, 1914, declared that effective July 1, "The use or
introduction for drinking purposes of alcoholic liquors on board any naval vessel, or within any
navy yard or station, is strictly prohibited, and commanding officers will be held directly
responsible for the enforcement of this order."
Thus ended 114 years of tinkering with a sailor's right to drink.
In the beginning, sailors were issued a daily ration of grog (watered down rum) in line with the
British navy tradition. Then, in 1794, the Congress authorized either a half-pint of "distilled
spirits" or a quart of beer. Three years later, the beer substitute was deleted. In 1831, service
members could draw 6 cents a day in lieu of their liquor ration. And in 1842, Congress slashed
the daily ration to one gill (1/4 pint), and -- a precursor of the 21st century – prohibited officers
or enlisted members from drawing a liquor ration at all unless they were at least 21.
Then, in 1851, Congress restricted the liquor ration to officers. But after two years of enlisted
sobriety, Congress again opened the ration to the enlisted ranks.
On July 14, 1862, Congress prohibited distilled liquors from ships except for medicinal
purposes.
As the century neared its end, the Navy interpreted the various laws to mean that wardroom
officers could form a "wine mess," with each member contributing funds for the purchase of
wine.
Naval lore has it that the wine mess aboard many ships stocked three kinds of wine, "Wine,"
"Wine A" (bourbon) and "Wine B" (scotch).
Then came Daniel's General Order 99.
And with it came a problem.
Here's a comparison. In today's armed forces, when an organization is likely to lose its budget
funds, if it doesn't spend them before the end of the fiscal year, it goes out and buys stuff.
For the U.S. Navy, June 30, 1914, was worse than the end of a fiscal year; it was the end of the
BOOZE years.
On that date, a large part of the U.S. Atlantic fleet – along with ships from five foreign navies --
was anchored off Mexico because of the Mexican civil war. The wine messes had sold some of
their stock to individuals and given some to enlisted men, and even shipped some back to the
states. But they had gallons and gallons of alcohol remaining. And they couldn't keep it aboard
ship the following day.
So as eight bells sounded the end of the last dog watch of the last day of the booze years, the
flagship Wyoming signaled: "Prepare to bury King John Barleycorn. Burial party of pall bearers
and mourners will call. Execute."
And the burial parties – including representatives from British, German, Spanish, French and
Dutch pallbearers -- began their rounds.
The mourners were piped aboard by wine mess attendants armed with brooms. Once aboard,
they made a courtesy call on the captain, then went to the wardroom, and finally to the warrant
officers' mess.
The wardroom on one battleship had become a mirror image of a western saloon, complete with
bar, brass rail, spittoons, gambling paraphernalia, and, behind the bar, an etched mirror
alongside a painting of a nude woman.
Pallbearers assembled aboard USS North Dakota because something special had been
promised. While they were loading up on salad, ham, turkey, beer, whiskey and wine, the
executive officer excused himself. He returned wearing a baseball mask and a chest protector,
and told the guests to fill their glasses for a toast. Raising his glass high, he roared, "Here's to
Josephus Daniels."
He needed his protection because the audience threw everything at him they could get their
hands on – food, drink, and even salad.
Just before midnight, ships' working parties threw the remaining booze over the side, in some
cases thoughtfully laid out in black boxes.
Thanks to Josephus Daniels, over the years a cup of coffee became known as a cup of Joe. It
was the strongest drink allowed aboard ship, and anybody who's been on a ship knows that
Navy coffee can be mighty strong.