military transformation past and present: historic lessons for the 21st century

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MILITARY TRANSFORMATIONPAST AND PRESENT

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Praeger Security International Advisory Board

Board Cochairs

Loch K. Johnson, Regents Professor of Public and International Affairs, School of Publicand International Affairs, University of Georgia (U.S.A.)

Paul Wilkinson, Professor of International Relations and Chairman of the AdvisoryBoard, Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence, University of

St. Andrews (U.K.)

Members

Anthony H. Cordesman, Arleigh A. Burke Chair in Strategy, Center for Strategic andInternational Studies (U.S.A.)

Therese Delpech, Director of Strategic Affairs, Atomic Energy Commission, and SeniorResearch Fellow, CERI (Fondation Nationale des Sciences Politiques), Paris (France)

Sir Michael Howard, former Chichele Professor of the History of War and Regis Professorof Modern History, Oxford University, and Robert A. Lovett Professor of Military and

Naval History, Yale University (U.K.)

Lieutenant General Claudia J. Kennedy, USA (Ret.), former Deputy Chief of Staff forIntelligence, Department of the Army (U.S.A.)

Paul M. Kennedy, J. Richardson Dilworth Professor of History and Director, InternationalSecurity Studies, Yale University (U.S.A.)

Robert J. O’Neill, former Chichele Professor of the History of War, All Souls College,Oxford University (Australia)

Shibley Telhami, Anwar Sadat Chair for Peace and Development, Department ofGovernment and Politics, University of Maryland (U.S.A.)

Fareed Zakaria, Editor, Newsweek International (U.S.A.)

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MILITARY TRANSFORMATIONPAST AND PRESENT

Historical Lessons for the 21st Century

MARK D. MANDELES

PRAEGER SECURITY INTERNATIONALWestport, Connecticut � London

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mandeles, Mark David, 1950–Military transformation past and present : historic lessons for the 21st century / Mark D. Mandeles.

p. cm.Includes bibliographical references and index.ISBN-13: 978–0–275–99190–6 (alk. paper)1. United States—Armed Forces—Reorganization. 2. Military doctrine—United States.

I. Title.UA23.M434 2007355.6′8670973—dc22 2007027872

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available.

Copyright c© 2007 by Mark D. Mandeles

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may bereproduced, by any process or technique, without theexpress written consent of the publisher.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2007027872ISBN-13: 978–0–275–99190–6

First published in 2007

Praeger Security International, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc.www.praeger.com

Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with thePermanent Paper Standard issued by the NationalInformation Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984).

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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This book is dedicated to some extraordinary people who areimportant to me

Bill and Debbi BarnesJonathan and Linda Bendor

Eviathar Ben-Zedeff and Tsofia Lev-RanEric and Ann FurstThomas C. HoneFrank D. KistlerClaudia Landau

Ellen and Paul LazarJacob and Shari NeufeldJohn and Nancy Ricca

Erie and Charles ShockeyJean-Claude Thoenig and Catherine Paradeise

Sarah and Robert UlisZvi-Uri and Rachel UllmannJan and MarieAnne van Tol

Wayne and Lorri Zell

And, Simon Chung, whose surgical skill made it possible for meto finish this book

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Contents

Acknowledgments ix

1. Transformation and Learning in Military Organizations 1

2. Setting the Stage: Learning at the End of the Nineteenth Century 14

3. The Future of Military Aviation between the Wars: The Army andNavy Take Different Paths 28

4. Learning to Conduct Amphibious Landings 48

5. Cooperative Engagement Capability: A MultiorganizationalCollaboration 71

6. Conclusion 84

Notes 103

Bibliography 131

Index 153

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Acknowledgments

There is only one thing more painful than learning from experience and that is notlearning from experience.

—Archibald McLeish

This book began as a study for Andrew W. Marshall, Director of Net Assessmentin the Office of the Secretary of Defense. As such, this book follows previouswork on the revolution in military affairs I have conducted for Mr. Marshall withmy long-time colleague Dr. Thomas C. Hone.1 The Office of Net Assessment isunique in government, and it is an honor and a privilege to do analysis for AndyMarshall. As has happened on my previous Office of Net Assessment researchprojects, once Mr. Marshall and I reached agreement on the broad questions toexamine, the analysis proceeded to examine and analyze questions unforeseen inmy original proposal. The questions I had anticipated in my proposal and thoseI discovered during research were the topic of vigorous argument and debate. Ihad regular—and intellectually stimulating—discussions and e-mail exchangeswith several members of Mr. Marshall’s office, in particular Capt. Jan M. van Tol(USN) and Col. Jonathan Noetzel (USAF, ret.).

I have received helpful advice, suggestions, and critical written and oralcomments from knowledgeable, kind, and gracious colleagues in preparing thisstudy, including Col. David A. Anhalt (USAF, ret.), Col. John Bower (USMC,ret.), Dr. Rex Buddenberg, Dr. Louis Capdeboscq, Cdr. Patrick Costello (USN),Cdr. John Q. Dickman (USN, ret.), Rear Adm. Michael Frick (USN), Dr. NormanFriedman, Dr. Thomas C. Hone, Dr. Perry D. Jamieson, Col. Robert Joy, MD (USA,ret.), Capt. Karl Hasslinger (USN, ret.), Dr. Martin Landau, Laura L. Mandeles,

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x acknowledgments

Joseph Mazzafro, Andrew W. Marshall, Capt. Dan Moore (USN), Capt. PeterNardi (USN), Jacob Neufeld, Col. Jonathan Noetzel (USAF, ret.), Dr. SarandisPapadopoulos, Dr. Edgar F. Raines, Jr., Erie Shockey, Dr. Dale Smith, Dr. HughStephens, Capt. Peter M. Swartz (USN, ret.), Truman R. Strobridge, Capt. DavidTitley (USN), Capt. Jan M. van Tol (USN), Mitzi M. Wertheim, Capt. Jeff Wilson(USN), and Tim Wolters. I apologize to any person who has been inadvertentlyomitted from this list.

Paul Allard and the interlibrary loan staff of the George Mason branch of theFairfax County Public Library system chased down many otherwise unavailablepublications.

In addition, I received kind and professional administrative assistance fromthe staff of the Office of Net Assessment. In particular, Rebecca C. Bash and MSgt.Ralph Smith (USAF) resolved innumerable problems.

Dr. Heather R. Staines and Dr. Elizabeth Demers, my Praeger editors, wereextraordinarily helpful, as was the Praeger editorial staff, including Nicole Azze.Saloni Jain and the Aptara production and copy editing team were invaluable. Myfriend, Fritz Heinzen, kept the work on track and handled all the difficult tasks Icould not.

I especially thank the late Martin Landau. Marty, as he was known to hisfriends, had one of the best critical minds in the social sciences. In the matterof pedagogy, Marty’s dedication to teaching—and his skill at training his stu-dents to think—are the stuff of legend. Years after attending class, Landau’s manydistinguished students tell each other stories concerning how he rendered under-standable complex and confusing political and administrative phenomena. Suchexceptional teaching ability received well-deserved recognition in the form ofthe distinguished teaching award from Brooklyn College and the Danforth Foun-dation Harbison Award. Before departing New York City for the University ofCalifornia at Berkeley, Landau was honored as a Distinguished Professor at theCity University of New York. It is not possible to separate Marty’s teaching fromhis profound and compelling research. His bibliography, covering almost fortyyears of published research, reveals a steady stream of brilliant theoretical workon diverse topics including the logic and method of social science inquiry, com-parative and development administration, decision theory, public administrationand organization theory, and American government and institutions. With hind-sight, one readily sees that the unifying theme to this diverse corpus of work isthe identification and removal of error from political and public processes andorganizations. Marty’s teaching and research greatly influenced my understandingof organizational behavior. I miss him deeply.

I also thank Jacob A. Stockfisch, whose profound and compelling work alsoinfluenced my understanding of how aviators responded to the challenges of theinterwar period.

My wife, Laura, as always, was a great source of support and help as I wrotethis manuscript. My daughter, Samantha, was especially helpful in assembling theindex. Of course, despite my intellectual debts to the aforementioned, all errors of

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acknowledgments xi

fact or interpretation are mine. The views expressed in this book are mine, and Iam responsible for any errors those noted above were unsuccessful in persuadingme to remove.

Mark D. MandelesFairfax, Virginia

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1

Transformation and Learning in MilitaryOrganizations

Among the numerous advantages promised by a well-constructed Union, none de-serves to be more accurately developed than its tendency to break and control theviolence of faction.

—James Madison1

THE CHALLENGE

Visionaries of new modes of combat are often far ahead of the technological stateof the art. Their visions, therefore, look better on paper than in real life. Whenreviewing pre-Civil War naval technological advances in steam propulsion andordnance (these eventually combined to form the propeller-driven ironside withrotating armored gun turrets firing shell ordnance), the late military historian Wal-ter Millis observed that the plans of gun and ship designers were ahead of the stateof the art in metallurgy and ballistics.2 A military historian writing in the year2100 might make three analogous observations when looking back at present-day American architects of a military revolution based on precision munitions,robotics, nanotechnology, bio-engineering, information and decision tool, com-puter, communications, and sensor technologies. First, weapon systems designersare embedding myriad new technological capabilities into organization struc-tures conceived by eighteenth- and nineteenth-century military theorists.3 Second,operations based on these military technologies require complementary organiza-tional procedures, processes, and structures that currently are not mature—and insome cases may not yet exist. And third, the organizational processes commonlyemployed to guide the interaction among people, technologies, and military

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2 military transformation past and present

organizations are flawed, so there has been little coherent thought about the orga-nizational and operational implications of new weapons technologies.4

This book is written for two very different audiences. First, the officers andcivilians who make important decisions now or who may make them soon. Sec-ond, the members of the military policy analysis community who try to defineand solve problems for the civilians and officers. The latter group is often wrong,because they search for infallible solutions amid unavailable, hidden, ambigu-ous, and imperfect information, and competing goals and preferences. PhysicistJohn R. Pierce warned against this search for infallibility—a constant in the na-tional security community—when he noted, “Novices in mathematics, science, orengineering are forever demanding infallible, universal, mechanical methods forsolving problems.”

My intent in this book is to show these two audiences that while there is noinfallible method to achieve innovation, the prospects for successfully implement-ing innovation in the Department of Defense (DoD) may be enhanced. I shall doso by examining, comparing, and analyzing how previous large-scale changes inmilitary capability—what we now call “transformations”—took place and thendrawing inferences from that analysis to current and future questions of militarytransformation. Public servants charged with the responsibility of designing, man-aging, and overseeing national security programs are rightly concerned about theprospects for innovation and learning within the DoD. There are real nationalsecurity threats to the United States, and the costs of failure are high if publicservants improperly prepare for and conduct military operations and postwar re-construction. U.S. military organizations have learned and innovated, and they cando it again. To understand how military organizations can learn and innovate, thereader will have to follow, at times, a complex argument.

The unique value of this study is its use of multilevel analysis. Most histo-rians and social scientists studying military innovation examine historical casematerial at a single level of analysis, that is, by looking at the actions of signifi-cant individuals or at the interactions of people within an innovating organization.Indeed, examining innovation from the perspective of an individual or a singleorganization has generated useful insights. Yet, this perspective has been unableto generate effective broad policy guidelines for future innovation. In the real-lifeworld of people in organizations considering military problems, nothing is sim-ple. People have to deal with “solutions” to previous problems that are proposedfor new or poorly understood issues. Risk, uncertainty, and ambiguity are con-stant companions. Individuals and organizations interact in varied and complexways. Hence, the real key to unlocking the process of innovation is attention tomultiple sets of relationships among individuals, organizations, and multiorgani-zational systems. This book will show that many opportunities exist for strategicleadership—even within an organization as large and complex as the DoD. Whenproperly arranged, interaction among groups of organizations enables effectiveinnovation by enhancing the application of evidence, inference, and logic.

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transformation and learning in military organizations 3

MILITARY TRANSFORMATION: PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS

The fascination of DoD and military officials with the concept of militarytransformation began in the early 1990s.5 During that period, documents preparedby the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD) called for “fundamental change”through implementation of the Revolution in Military Affairs. The Army, Navy,Marine Corps, and Air Force proposed transformation road maps, created battlelaboratories, designed experiments, and conducted wargames.6 Congress sup-ported these efforts. Congressional Research Service analyst Ronald O’Rourkeasserted that as early as 1986, Congress instituted changes that can be seen asexamples of defense transformation, including activities that were opposed byDoD leaders.7 In 1998, Congress required the secretary of defense to establisha Defense Science Board task force to examine DoD’s preparations for militarytransformation.8 Completing its work in 1999, the board defined transformationin terms of pursuing “bold new ways of conducting military operations to meetnew security challenges of the 21st century.” It found that DoD leadership calledfor “fundamental transformation in both military and business affairs” in strongterms, the Services were developing new concepts, sharing themes, and begin-ning to address new security challenges. In addition, the Defense Science Boardobserved that the Services and the joint community were beginning to experi-ment with new concepts of war. However, the board noted that DoD leadershipwere possibly underestimating the “focus and effort needed to affect fundamentaltransformation,” and that there seemed to be no “pervasive sense of urgency” totransform military and associated business capabilities.9

In a September 1999 speech at the Citadel entitled “A Period of Conse-quences,” George W. Bush argued the time was ripe to transform the U.S. mili-tary. Bush observed that the six-month planning period used to conduct OperationDesert Storm against Iraq was too long. He pledged to develop lighter, moremobile, and more lethal forces, and promised to appoint a strong secretary of de-fense who would be given a mandate to transform the military.10 With his electionin 2000, President George W. Bush kept his promises and appointed Donald H.Rumsfeld as secretary of defense with the directive to “transform the military forthe twenty-first century.” High among Secretary Rumsfeld’s initial two concernswere the development of a viable missile defense system and the reduction ofthe size of the Army—thus freeing funds devoted to personnel for new materielprograms central to his view of military transformation. In a speech delivered onSeptember 10, 2001 at the Pentagon, Rumsfeld observed that the primary obstacleto achieving change, innovation, and transformation was the Pentagon bureau-cracy and its processes. He proposed to transform the way the DoD works andwhat it works on.11 Less than two months later, Secretary Rumsfeld establishedan office to develop and implement transformational ideas—the Office of ForceTransformation—and appointed retired Navy Vice Adm. Arthur K. Cebrowski tolead it. Previously, Admiral Cebrowski was president of the Naval War College,

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where he was a leading theoretician and proponent of network-centric warfare, anoperational concept he believed was central to transformation.12

Crystal Balls and the Impact of New Technology

Military leaders agree that technology, in the words of then-Marine CorpsCommandant Gen. Charles C. Krulak, “will change tomorrow’s battlefield in away that none of us really understand.” This situation is not unique to the present,but it provides the context for the current concern about military “transforma-tion.” There can be no crystal ball with which the national security community13

can accurately predict the future even though DoD civilian and military leadersconstantly search for one. No operations research method can determine the sin-gle most effective apportionment of roles and missions, or identify unequivocallythe technologies, operational concepts, and associated organizational structuresthat will improve military capability qualitatively. The best the national securitycommunity can do is to organize to learn by collecting and cataloging relevantinformation, developing the means to access and critically test the information,and posing and considering alternatives in a systematic matter.14 Thus, the U.S.ability to anticipate and respond to national security challenges—and to minimizethe effect of unpleasant surprises—will depend on the quality of analysis of pol-icy tradeoffs and the way OSD, the Joint Staff, Combatant Commands, and theServices interact to provide that analysis. In the larger context of the U.S. nationalsecurity community’s response to global terrorism, this type of analysis couldimprove efforts to prevent the type of intelligence failures that occurred prior tothe September 11, 2001 terror attacks.15

The Services and Combatant Commands have conducted many good tacticalstudies, simulations, exercises, and experiments. However, these studies fail toaddress the linkages among tactical, operational, and strategic levels of warfare,or the relationships between individual-level and organizational decision makingessential to implementing the intent of combat leaders. Consequently, the nationalsecurity community does not have a robust and coherent analytical framework to(1) transform the twentieth-century U.S. military into a twenty-first century force,(2) figure out how tomorrow’s battlefield will be different, or (3) allow officersand enlisted personnel to codify their experiences and to think clearly and sys-tematically about operational concepts, technologies, or organizations. Nor hasthe analytical community developed a perspective—or credible models—to relatemilitary technologies and operational concepts at individual, organizational, andmultiorganizational levels of analysis, or consider operational complications flow-ing from the use of new operational concepts carried out with multiple generationsof equipment. Indeed, as the then-assistant director of the Office of Force Trans-formation Thomas C. Hone observed, the Army in 2003 was being challenged bySecretary Rumsfeld to explain and justify its current organizational structure. Tomeet Secretary Rumsfeld’s challenges, the Army could respond to his criticisms

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and try to give him what he wanted, or the Army could employ wargames andsimulations to determine which weapons, tactics, and military formations maywork best in particular situations. Yet, if the wargames and simulations are poorlydesigned, the conclusions drawn from them will be flawed—a likely outcomebecause the analytic community lacks the means to relate operational concepts,technology, and organizations at individual, organizational, and multiorganiza-tional levels. Therefore, the argument between the Army and its critics cannot beresolved—or even illuminated—by simulations, trials, and tests.16

Since military leaders do not have models that relate technological and orga-nizational changes with individual-level cognitive and knowledge requirements,they can’t predict the effects of information asymmetries on combat operations.Discussions about operational concepts and organizational architectures are con-ducted with little appreciation for (1) the necessity of examining levels of analysis,(2) the problems of evidence and of inference, and (3) how to accumulate, cata-logue, and retrieve knowledge about military operations. A related situation hasexisted in the analytic support to national policies of nuclear deterrence since theinvention of nuclear weapons. There has been a great deal of competent analysison narrow problems (e.g., of basing and dispersal), but precious little work onbroader issues of the sort conducted by Bernard Brodie: he examined the kindof analysis that should be done, and asked questions that were hidden behind thenumbers on a briefing chart. Indeed, the use of briefing slides to transmit infor-mation, array options, and structure decisions is a significant source of analyticfailure.17

Current official doctrine assumes it is possible to achieve a seamless for-ward and backward distribution of information, instructions, feedback, andevaluations—for example, close coordination of tactical and command units orgreater interdependence between theater and organizations located in the conti-nental United States. Such assumptions are equivalent to postulating a function-ing frictionless organization—an organization without error—conducting flawlessoperations under the most dangerous, stressful, rapidly changing, and uncertainconditions.18 The potential sources of organizational error and the cognitive effectsof sleep deprivation, fear, stress, uncertainty, ambiguity, and information overloadon decisions in combat have been inadequately analyzed, and strategies to dealwith them are not in place.19 What little official writing exists (e.g., in Joint Vision2010 or Joint Vision 2020) on information storage and processing, division oflabor, command arrangements, span of control, coordination of information andanalysis, and personnel skills offers inadequate guidance for practical decisionmaking.

Military Transformation and Military Revolution

The concepts of military revolution—that is, a significant qualitative improve-ment in operational capability—and transformation address a common theme.20

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Both highlight the important role of well-designed experimentation to prevent ac-cepting faulty assumptions and inferences. And both involve linking new organi-zations and processes, new technologies, and new operational concepts to achievegreatly improved operational capability—or, in Admiral Cebrowski’s words, a“sustained American competitive advantage in warfare.”21

However, the symbolic and bureaucratic uses to which the concept of mil-itary transformation has been put—particularly, justifying advanced technologyweapons programs—only reiterate the language of military revolutions, and haverobbed the concept of its substantive meaning.22 The assumption underlying manyof the military Services’ proposals for new transformational technologies is thesame as that for components of military revolutions: higher technical perfor-mance equates to higher operational capability. Unfortunately, this assumption iswrong. There is no identity relationship between technical performance and op-erational capability.23 The blind faith that paper acquisition and budgeting plansand elaborately expressed goals for new military capabilities translate directly intoimproved operational capability transcends political party and particular admin-istrations, imperiling the goal of planned and directed military transformation.Military transformation is more likely to occur when the DoD develops moreeffective means to (1) apply knowledge and analysis to decision making and ac-tion, (2) aggregate and integrate available knowledge, and (3) catalogue, retrieve,and analyze propositions derived from current operations’ “lessons learned” andhistorical analyses. Stephen A. Cambone, when director of Program Evaluationand Analysis, misunderstood these critical factors in creating the conditions formilitary transformation.24 Cambone was silent about the problem of organizingto produce knowledge about military operations and the relationship between ac-quisition plans and future operational capability. For Cambone, transformationwould eventually be reduced to “nuts-and-bolts decisions about which ‘platformsand programs’ to buy.”25

Just as there are no simple recipes to achieve a military revolution, there is nosimple expedient to military transformation. Successful development of weapons,doctrine, and operational concepts requires a great deal of planned, coordinated,and cooperative action among countless offices, agencies, laboratories, and con-tractors over a long period of time. Planning to achieve a military revolution ortransformation necessarily entails predictions, many of which will not be real-ized. A military transformation, like a military revolution, is most easily identifiedwith hindsight, because it is impossible to predict secondary (and higher order)effects of self-generating technological and operational change.26 Furthermore,a transformation of operational capability may be hindered, retarded, or delayedby organizational processes and actions that reduce the ability of individuals toapply knowledge and analysis to their tasks. Richard McKenna, naval historianand author of the novel The Sand Pebbles, noted that the interwar Navy’s cutbackof the machinist’s mate school (set up by President Woodrow Wilson’s Secretaryof the Navy Josephus Daniels) significantly delayed the acquisition of engineeringknowledge for thousands of sailors. Instead, sailors learned engineering through

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“long years of apprenticeship,” and the Navy deprived itself of a higher opera-tional capability achievable by the deployment of large numbers of personnel ableto act at higher levels of skills and competence.27 The Navy did not make thesame error in regard to aviation. As Navy historian Rear Adm. Julius A. Furerobserved, “Perhaps the greatest contribution made by the Navy Department to theprogram of aviation during its early years was in the education and training ofaeronautical engineers; a contribution which made it possible for the Bureau ofAeronautics, when it was established in 1921, to take on all of the functions of atechnical bureau without a lengthy interregnum for training its personnel.”28 Inother words, the Navy Department, by increasing the number of people havingtechnical knowledge and enhancing their ability to apply that knowledge, raisedthe prospects for “transformative” success. Today, Marine Corps leaders have em-braced this perspective in official documents, such as the 2005 “A Concept forDistributed Operations,” which was signed by then Marine Commandant Gen-eral Michael W. Hagee. The Concept urges the Marines to “continue to elevatethe already high competence of our most junior leaders, educating them to thinkand act at the tactical level of war, with an understanding of the application ofcommander’s intent to achieve operational level effects.” Junior leaders will betrained to perform additional technical tasks to enable them “to perform combattasks accomplished at higher levels of command.”29

These facts have profound implications for planning transformations and de-vising an organizational strategy to enhance competitive advantage. Knowledge isnot free. Resources must be devoted to creating, developing, cataloguing and stor-ing it; retrieving and transmitting it throughout the national security community;and analyzing and correcting it.

Planning Transformations

Some transformations have required more than twenty to thirty years to be-come recognized by observers, which means that most, if not all, of the seniorcivilian and military officials developing initial plans for transformational weaponssystems will not be in office to see the fulfillment of their plans and the myriadways in which they will change.30 For example, in 1973, no one in the U.S. Armyanticipated how the technologies of precision guidance would play out in theforce structure. Nor did anyone predict that reliance on precision-guided muni-tions (PGMs) would stimulate a wide range of other effects, including the needto develop new sensor, communication, and computer technologies, new plat-forms for these technologies, new occupational specialties and associated trainingcurricula, new operational concepts, and new organizations and doctrine for com-mand and control. Yet, military historian Russell F. Weigley observed that theArmy, spurred by analyses of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, “initiated the weapons-development and replacement campaign that by the 1980’s had become the mostcomplete rearming in the Army’s history. Further refinement and distribution of

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PGMs [precision-guided munitions] was conspicuously involved, but the rearm-ing extended into almost every area of weaponry.” Likewise, the Air Force inthe early 1970s began to place greater emphasis on PGMs and the organizationalprerequisites for using such weapons, for example, intelligence analyses of targetsets.31 This rearming of the Air Force also has extended into almost every areaof weaponry, 32 and continues to have rippling effects for each of the Services inacquisition, force structure, doctrine, recruitment, training, and organization.

In October 2001, U.S. forces began fighting al-Qaeda and Taliban forces inAfghanistan (Operation Enduring Freedom) using a new operational concept. Inan example cited by Air Force Maj. Gen. Daniel “Fig” Leaf about the early daysof combat, a Northern Alliance commander turned to an Air Force air control spe-cialist and said he wanted to attack Taliban forces on the next ridge. The Afghancommander thought U.S. forces would go through a long approval process, andthat the strike would come in after a day or two had passed. Instead, nineteen min-utes after the airman’s call, the Afghan commander was surprised to see a bombflying directly to the Taliban positions he had just identified.33 This operationalconcept appears to be very similar to the Hunter Warrior concept conceived andfirst tested by the Marine Corps during the Hunter Warrior Advanced Warfight-ing Experiment at the Marine Corps Air-Ground Combat Center in TwentyninePalms, California, in March 1997. Hunter Warrior was designed to examine a newoperational concept: “small teams in a non-contiguous battlespace, advanced andintegrated C3I [command, control, communications and intelligence] to provideshared situational awareness, and enhanced fires and targeting.”34 Initial thoughtabout this operational concept began in 1992, and over the next five years, it wasclarified in wargames, debate, argument, and analysis.35

The experiment, situated in a simulated littoral environment, pitted an exper-imental (Blue) force of about 2,000 (of which an average of about 100 marineswere ashore at any one time), against a (Red) conventionally armed force of al-most 4,000. During the experiment, Blue small mobile units, dispersed across awide area, used a loosely coupled (or “flattened”) command and control structure,and were linked through squad-level battlefield computers to a communicationsnetwork managed by an experimental Command and Control Center located morethan 150 miles away.36 Maj. Lawrence Roberts, a marine aviator who participatedin the Hunter Warrior experiment, also noted that Blue air and ground forces com-municated effectively using the “Newton Ericsson, a combination of the AppleNewton hand-held digital computer modified with a Global Positioning System(GPS) card and the Ericsson free-text burst-transmission radio.”37

Planning was accomplished through face-to-face exchanges between groundand air personnel. The Hunter Warrior planning process was faster than the con-ventional air tasking order process, and “greatly enhanced the capability of themaneuver force to function as a single entity within the commander’s intent.”38

Blue teams called in air strikes and long-range fire support from simulated navalunits and covert remote-operated mortars. The experimental Blue Force used asimulated network of satellites, surveillance aircraft, micro ground sensors, and

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unmanned aerial vehicles to collect information about the Red Force. As designed,the Hunter Warrior experiment relied upon free play, which allowed unanticipatedinteractions and tactical innovations to be conducted by offensive and defensiveforces.39

Although descriptions of Hunter Warrior appeared in defense trade maga-zines and newsletters, the similarity between the Hunter Warrior and the En-during Freedom operational concepts may be coincidental, and a result of theavailability of advances in communications and targeting gear.40 However, themelding in combat of ground spotters with aircraft carrying PGMs representsa remarkable example of organizational learning at tactical and headquarterslevels.41

The introduction of PGMs into the Army and Air Force, and the creationof a new operational concept melding ground spotters with aircraft suggest thatthe size and accumulated resources available to the U.S. military allow multiplemilitary transformations to proceed in parallel, at different tempos and with dif-ferent degrees of maturity. This situation has characteristics of a positive feedbackloop, wherein portions of transformation programs may interact and reinforcethe others.42 It is conceivable, however, that central pieces of transformation pro-grams may be negated by (1) weakness of multiorganizational coordination andinteraction, (2) insufficient attention and support for military thinkers throughdeliberate identification, protection, and mentoring of innovative personnel, (3)inadequate procurement of enabling technologies (e.g., reliable communicationstransmission bandwidth for expeditionary forces), and (4) the opportunity costsimposed by continuation of service programs that conflict with the transformationprogram.43

The Challenge of “Legacy”

Constraints, capital stocks, and structure are all part of the “legacy” of pastactions, acquisition decisions, and habits. It is difficult to update habits, standardoperating procedures, and tradition in changing from one organization and mixtureof forces, technologies, and operational concepts to another. Historian EltingE. Morison captured the essence of this problem in describing the use of olderartillery pieces, first used in the Boer War some forty years earlier, shortly afterthe defeat of France by the Nazis and the subsequent British retreat. It seems thatthe British employed this old and light artillery in mobile units for coastal defense.Unfortunately, these mobile units did not fire their guns quickly enough, and atime-motion expert was hired to suggest improvements. As Morison describes thesituation, the time-motion expert

Watched one of the gun crews of five men at practice in the field for some time.Puzzled by certain aspects of the procedures, he took some slow-motion pictures ofthe soldiers performing the loading, aiming, and firing routines.

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When he ran these pictures over once or twice, he noticed something that appeared oddto him. A moment before the firing, two members of the gun crew ceased all activityand came to attention for a three-second interval extending throughout the discharge ofthe gun. He summoned an old colonel of artillery, showed him the pictures, and pointedout this strange behavior. What, he asked the colonel, did it mean? The colonel, too,was puzzled. He asked to see the pictures again. “Ah,” he said when the performancewas over, “I have it. They are holding the horses.”44

On the verge of fighting a mechanized war in World War II, some behaviorsassociated with using animal power remained in operational practice. Morisonwas right to wonder what would remain after the militaries of the mid-twentiethcentury mechanized. Today, we might ask what residues of mid-twentieth-centurypractice will persist after the widespread introduction of precision munitions,stealth platforms, and sensor, computer, and communications technologies, andwill these residues of twentieth-century practice enhance organizational and op-erational reliability?

Transformation and Organizational Strategies

It is commonly asserted that concrete mission objectives, priorities, andclear metrics to measure progress are essential elements of programs to achievetransformation.45 However, examination of real cases of transformation, such asthe introduction of carrier-based aviation into the U.S. Navy (see Chapter 3),and the start of the PGMs transformation in the Army and Air Force, shows thatconcrete objectives and clear metrics are not necessary components of successfultransformation.

Indeed, given the accelerating rate of technological advance and the enor-mous personnel and financial resources devoted to national security, it is likelythat, regardless of our plans, roadmaps, and metrics, we will see one or more “mil-itary transformations” every fifteen to twenty years. However, there remains theunderstandable desire of political and military leaders not to leave such matters tochance. A central argument of this book is that military transformation will resultmore effectively from enhancing the interaction among DoD components to con-front risk, coordinate, experiment, discuss, and set priorities. This organizationalstrategy alters the incentives for how the military creates and uses evidence andinference to judge the implementation of plans and programs. It focuses senior-level attention on the role of knowledge and analysis in decision making at threelevels of analysis: individuals who think, decide, and respond to problems; in-teractions among individuals in organizations; and interactions among groups oforganizations. The historical cases explored in the following chapters illustratethese three levels, the relationships among them, and potential practical guidelinesto promote organizational effectiveness across the DoD. In particular, we shallsee that establishing “rules” of evidence may not be an appropriate first step.

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The rules of evidence used to judge new operational concepts, new organizations,and the operational capability of new weapons technologies will emerge throughpartisan argument and mutual adjustment among individuals in organizations andbetween organizations, as they learn. Similarly, regardless of what the April 2003DoD’s Transformation Planning Guidance document calls for, an effort to createa “culture of innovation”46 by promulgating policies to reward innovative thinkersand doers will amount only to verbal and written exhortations. The exhortationsto be innovative will be ignored in practice, unless organizational arrangementsinherently encourage them. Innovative thinkers and doers are more likely to berewarded and promoted when organizational leaders see their skills as an advan-tage in competition and interaction with other organizations. Even so, there willbe lags and uneven application of rewards to innovative thinkers.

Attention to the role of knowledge and analysis in decision making is consis-tent with the post-World War II observations of mathematician John von Neumann,a participant in and astute observer of official high-level strategic discussions. Writ-ing as U.S. forces were undergoing a major transformation due to their adoptionof nuclear weapons, von Neumann noted “the enormous importance of the mostpowerful weapon of all; namely, the flexible type of human intelligence.”47 Indeed,von Neumann asserted that human intelligence—the ability to pose analogies, toinfer, to marshal evidence, and to test and evaluate assertions and arguments—hasa greater impact on the conduct of war than atomic weapons. Von Neumann’sargument is relevant to today’s discussion within the DoD and in national se-curity journals about transforming the military to exploit new technologies andoperational concepts, and thereby, to achieve qualitative improvements in militarycapability.48 As an anonymous officer serving in Iraq noted, “the most high-techweapons in the U.S. military reside in the ‘brain housing group’ of soldiers andMarines.”49

This chapter’s opening quotation from James Madison represented his beliefin the importance of the structural arrangement of organizations in controllingsignificant sources of error in government. The logic of Madison’s argument toreduce error in government has never been applied to any of the post-World WarII DoD reorganizations. In fact, as the U.S. defense establishment has grown,become ever more differentiated, and been reorganized repeatedly, interactionwithin and among the department’s components has not improved—the interactionis certainly not of a higher quality than that displayed by the interwar navalaviation community or the interwar marine amphibious operations community. Itremains for the current generation to improve interaction and analysis among theseorganizations.50

OUTLINE OF THE BOOK

The book is organized into a series of case studies that illuminate some keypractical and historical questions of organizational learning:

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� Toward what concepts of operation should we evolve? How should theUnited States compete in specific missions?

� What organizational forms and arrangements may exploit U.S. technologi-cal and personnel advantages?

� How should the national security community organize itself to develop newoperational concepts and new organizations appropriate to new technolo-gies?

� Is the use of knowledge and analysis in creating new operational conceptsand organizations more or less effective today than it was in the periodbetween World War I and World War II?

� To what extent do today’s analytical tools and computer and informationtechnologies provide symbolic cover for a reduced application of knowledgeand analysis to military problems?

Chapter 2 introduces the problem of organizing to learn by examining thepost-Civil War Army and Navy. Chapters 3 and 4 focus on the interwar period.Chapter 3 compares how the Navy and the Army Air Corps aviation communitiesapproached technological and operational uncertainty. Chapter 4 examines theproblem of the development of amphibious operations in the United States MarineCorps (USMC) and the Royal Marines. Chapter 5 moves to the present timeperiod and explores how the Navy is developing new operational concepts toexploit the set of technologies comprising cooperative engagement capability.Finally, Chapter 6 applies the insights derived from the case studies to currentefforts to guide military transformation.

SUMMARY OF KEY POINTS

1. Weapon systems designers are embedding many new technological ca-pabilities into military organizational structures conceived by eighteenth-and nineteenth-century military theorists.

2. Operations based on new military technologies (including precision muni-tions, robotics, nanotechnology, bio-engineering, information technology,computer, communications, and sensors) require complementary organi-zational procedures, processes, and structures that currently are not matureor may not yet exist.

3. Current organizational processes do not stimulate coherent thought aboutthe organizational and operational implications of new weapons technolo-gies.

4. There is no crystal ball that can predict the future accurately, determinethe single most effective apportionment of roles and missions, or iden-tify the technologies, operational concepts, and associated organizationalstructures that will improve military capability qualitatively.

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5. A military transformation, like a military revolution, is most easily identi-fied with hindsight, because it is impossible to predict secondary (andhigher order) effects of self-generating technological and operationalchange.

6. A military transformation may be hindered, retarded, or delayed by organi-zational processes that reduce the ability of individuals to apply knowledgeand analysis to their tasks.

7. The methodological key to unlocking the process of innovation is attentionto multiple sets of relationships among individuals, organizations, andinteractions among groups of organizations.

8. Military transformation will result more effectively from enhancing theinteraction among DoD components to experiment, to discuss, and to setpriorities. When properly arranged, interaction among DoD componentscreates effective innovation by enhancing the application of evidence,inference, and logic.

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2

Setting the Stage: Learning at the Endof the Nineteenth Century

A far better indicator of the viability of military institutions over the long haul . . .is the quality of professional thought. Historically, the force which thinks best fightsbest. The required exchange of ideas is invariably painful and difficult, but the internalintellectual battle which it entails must be won if we are to survive.

—John F. Guilmartin, Jr.1

INTRODUCTION

Noted military historian John F. Guilmartin, Jr., directs us to inquire into whetherand how professional military thought is translated into acquisition programs,doctrine, tactics, and training. This chapter will examine the professional military’snineteenth-century encounter with the need to apply knowledge and analysis todecision making about new weapons and operational concepts.

SMART PEOPLE AREN’T ENOUGH

The achievements of the industrial and scientific revolution were used for thefirst time on a large scale in the American Civil War.2 Consequently, the post-CivilWar period of 1865 through 1899 was the first in which senior civilian and militaryofficials began to confront the implications of a requirement for a greater role ofknowledge and analysis in decision making. This post-Civil War thirty-four-yearperiod offers some important insights as we look at the actions of civilian andmilitary leaders in our own time.

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setting the stage 15

Congress opposed a large standing army, and with the conclusion of thewar, reduced greatly the army’s size and budget authority. Officers competedbitterly over retention of their commissions. Many senior officers recognized thepotential combat impact of new weapons technologies, such as the flat trajectorymagazine rifle, high explosives, smokeless powder, and quick-firing artillery. Butthere was disagreement over mid-term and long-term consequences of those newweapons for tactics and training, weapons acquisition, and the organization ofcombat forces. Senior leaders had little hard knowledge to help settle complextradeoffs between old and new weapons and old and new tactics. Finally, therewas disagreement over the nature of the threat. Most military and civilian leadersthought future conventional conflicts against European foes were unlikely. Thethreat at the time was the conflict with determined Indian peoples in the west.The frontier war against the Indians shaped post-Civil War thought about forcestructure, tactics, training, and acquisition in ways that were inappropriate forcombat against European adversaries.3

Army senior leadership had few resources with which to work. As civiliansand officers tried to figure out what should be done and how to achieve thoseends, a difficult situation was made worse by way the Congress organized the WarDepartment’s decision processes, the wide geographic distribution of troops, slowland transportation away from rail lines, and inadequate Congressional expendi-tures to train full regiments. Then and now, there were no a priori and analyticallycorrect answers to the many design questions facing senior military leadership:

� What force structure would be most appropriate to defeat existing and futureadversaries?

� How would we transition from a force structure appropriate to existingadversaries to one appropriate to future adversaries?

� What changes in recruitment and force structure would lead to an effectivefighting force against known and unknown adversaries?

� What new weapons technologies and weapons should be pursued and pro-cured?

� How should training be organized and what should training be designed todo?

� What tactics would be effective against an entrenched adversary employingnew rapid firing shoulder arms and artillery? How should we devise andchoose such tactics?

� What operational concepts should guide the design of tactics? How shouldcommand and control in loose order formations be organized?

How familiar these questions sound. As in today’s military, the post-CivilWar era featured a weak role for knowledge and analysis in decision making andinsufficient appreciation of the need to organize to learn.

Late nineteenth-century members of Congress, and senior military and civilianleaders, did not understand the necessity of institutionalized experimentation,

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tests, maneuvers, and retrievable bodies of knowledge in order to learn; thatis, developing processes, methodologies, organizations, and relationships amongorganizations to evaluate claims about force structure, roles and missions, weaponsacquisition, and doctrine and tactics.

Then, as now, military leaders did not understand that how they were organizedto learn—or more correctly, were not organized to learn, accumulate, and accessknowledge—affected the way options were conceived, discussed, evaluated, andimplemented. To be sure, today’s military and civilian leaders and analysts re-peat slogans about the need for experimentation. But mere words are inadequateto address our intellectual and conceptual weaknesses. As noted historian PerryJamieson observes, there were few books available for officers interested in study-ing tactics. Indeed, the nineteenth-century army “had no permanent process forcreating and revising an officially authorized set of tactical principles, recognizedand taught throughout the service.”4 And this failure to organize to learn extendedbeyond questions concerning force structure, roles and missions, to weapons ac-quisition, doctrine, and tactics, and even to basic questions of camp hygiene andcause of death.5

The post-Civil War Congressional reorganizations of the Army were designedto minimize cost rather than to support experimentation or learning.6 During theReconstruction era, there were two armies: an army that conducted normal dutiesunder executive command, and a Congressional Army in the South. In 1877,with the abandonment of Congressional Reconstruction, the Congressional Armymerged into its Northern counterpart.7 In July 1866, Congress decided the structureof the War Department when it set the number of regiments (this number changedseveral times during Reconstruction and afterward). In addition to the regiments,Congress set up ten administrative and technical bureaus called departments. Thebureaus were independent of the Commanding General (CG) of the Army andanswered to the secretary of war and Congress. The CG’s authority was limited;he could not control logistics and had to persuade the secretary before he could alterany of the bureaus’ activities. Staff officers representing the bureaus were assignedto the various army area commands, but these officers were more responsible tothe bureaus than to the CG. The Congress designed the War Department’s politicaland authority relationships so that the CG had no authority to pose tradeoffs; hecould not order systematic testing or maneuvers over several years to determine theimplications or “externalities” of one bureau’s activities—or lack of activities—onanother. Nor could the CG easily implement remedies for perceived weaknesses.Such political relationships made it extremely difficult even to conceive of theneed for institutionalized experimentation, testing, and analysis of the results ofthese activities through interaction among organizations or offices.8

Significantly different from today, civilian contractors and consultants hadless leeway to thoroughly pervert decision making—but senior Army officers,without really trying, did a good job on that score by themselves. The artistFrederic Remington was a keen observer of frontier military life. In an 1893 letterto the newspaper Sun, Remington described the Army’s veteran leadership:

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The old gentlemen who have taken care enough of their health to get into the highgrades . . . are responsible for the dry rot which is disintegrating our army to-day. Itwill probably take a war to make them resign. . . . There are plenty of infantry fieldofficers who couldn’t get a pony past a dead dog in the road if they were followingtheir regiments in action.9

During the Civil War, participants recognized that new weapons technologiesand tactics gave a great advantage to the armies operating on the tactical defensive.As Jamieson notes, “the introduction of rifled shoulder arms, the power of artilleryon the defensive, and the use of [ever more sophisticated] field entrenchments . . .

all weighed heavily on the side of the defense.”10 Soldiers advancing in close-order, linear formations were devastated on the “deadly ground” in front of theirdug-in counterparts.

After the war, inventors made more deadly—both singly and in combination—all sorts of weapons, and continuing improvements in weapons capabilities ex-acerbated the tactical and operational difficulties. For example, breech-loadingcannon using metallic cartridges replaced muzzle-loaders, and smokeless powderincreased firepower. Flat trajectory, smaller bore, rifled shoulder arms increasedthe accuracy of concentrated fires from entrenched troops.11 Army engineers de-signed increasingly sophisticated fieldworks. The firepower of entrenched troopsmade it difficult for attackers to maintain cohesion, regardless of their forma-tion. This problem had hindered Civil War assaults, as many officers later recog-nized. Thoughtful army officers realized that continued technological improve-ments would make offensive operations even more dangerous to troops attackingsoldiers in defensive positions and possessing a variety of weapons capable ofdirecting dense volumes of accurate fire.12 Three examples make the point: in an1874 Harper’s New Monthly Magazine article, Gen. George B. McClellan warnedthat traditional formations could not survive the long-range, rapid, and accuratefire delivered by modern weapons. Americans called this territory between oppos-ing troops employing modern weapons the “danger zone” or the “deadly zone.”13

Lt. Gen. Philip H. Sheridan, in his November 1884 Annual Report of the Lt. Gen.of the Army, predicted combat operations much along the lines of World War I’sWestern front. Sheridan argued: “Armies will then resort to the spade, the pick,and the shovel; both sides will cover themselves by intrenchments, and any troopsdaring to make exposed attacks will be annihilated.”14 In 1886, an anonymousinfantry officer observed that

With the advent of breechloaders and Gatling and Hotchkiss guns, foot soldiers de-ployed in two-line formations of the Civil War became simply food for gunpowder.The single rank is now and will be the only one used in battle, unless, indeed, the lineshall become still more attenuated by the introduction of an open order system.15

While American military leaders understood the tactical impact of technolog-ical changes, they did not draw out the broader operational and social implications

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of new military technologies. With hindsight it is clear that not only tactics andstrategy had to change, but the Army needed procedures and organizations thatcould design and critique adaptive strategies more effectively and with greaterrapidity. How was the situation perceived at the time? How did the existing orga-nization affect the understanding of challenges and courses of action? What didthe Army do?

The Army leadership examined proposals for new tactics. They acknowledgedthat the translations of European tactical manuals used during the Civil War hadproved inadequate and they wanted to have a set of tactics independent of Europeanmodels. Emory Upton provided distinct views about tactics stimulated by his ownCivil War experience. His tactical manual, A New System of Infantry Tactics,Double and Single Rank, Adapted to American Topography and Improved Fire-Arms, was published in 1867.16 Building on a New System of Infantry Tactics,Upton’s assimilated tactics, published in 1874, were “manuals whose commandsand formations were compatible among the cavalry, artillery, and infantry, so thatan officer could move, for instance, from the artillery service to a cavalry regimentand quickly learn the drill of the new unit.” Upton and his comrades were the firstU.S. officers to study infantry, cavalry, and artillery together and “design a systemapplicable to all of them.”17

One of Upton’s goals was to move men more efficiently than in the platoonsand sections of pre-Civil War drill books. He accomplished this task by creatinggroups of four; infantry would march in columns of four, deploy into line by groupsof four, and maneuver, flank, or wheel in contact with the enemy in groups of four.He also introduced single-rank tactics. Breechloaders and repeating breechloaderswould greatly increase the firepower of an infantry regiment so that it could bedeployed in a single rank, rather than two-line formation.

Acceptance or rejection of Upton’s new tactics partly depended on beliefsabout the tradeoff between firepower and shock. With the increased firepower ofinfantry regiments in single-ranks of soldiers using breechloading and repeatingbreechloading shoulder arms, shock tactics—that is, the use of heavy columns orclose-ordered advancing lines to overcome a defender with a bayonet charge—would become very costly to the attacker. The single-rank tactic also mitigatedthe kind of deadly volleys experienced in the Civil War by exposing fewer men toenemy fire.

Upton’s tactics were not the last word on the relationship between firepowerand shock in combat. Criticism of Upton’s tactical system began in 1867, the yearin which it was introduced, and continued into the 1880s. For example, Upton’scritics argued that the system did not degrade well under the confusion of combat,when casualties would require the remaining men to renumber themselves tomaintain sets of four. During the 1880s several officers offered alternatives toUpton’s system, but none gained War Department approval.18

In January 1888, Secretary of War William C. Endicott authorized a board ofofficers to review each combat arm’s tactics. The panel was swamped with pro-posals from theorists who believed that their ideas deserved the War Department’s

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approval and certification. Eventually, drafts of tactical manuals for infantry, cav-alry, and artillery were sent to the adjutant general, and were reviewed by asingle officer from each combat arm. The Commanding General of the Army Maj.Gen. John M. Schofield, Secretary of War Redfield Proctor, and President GroverCleveland endorsed the manuals, dubbed the Leavenworth manuals. These manu-als became the Army’s authorized tactics through the Spanish-American War. So,twenty-six years after the Civil War, in 1891, the Army finally had manuals thatinstructed officers how to maneuver and how to command their troops in combat.These three manuals were the first official documents to discuss the separate prob-lems of offensive and defensive fighting. Nevertheless, some officers criticized the1891 manuals for their length and complexity. In 1894, such criticism led Maj.Gen. Schofield to reevaluate the three manuals, but the changes were minor.19

Throughout the 1880s and 1890s, there was no single and clear agreement inthe Army on the changes necessary to accommodate new weapons technologies.A fairly large group of officers gave little thought to the development of newtactics because they believed that existing tactics and organization were adequateto defeat the Indians in the West, and that foreign wars were unlikely. For theseofficers, existing well-understood military problems shaped their perception of theneed for new tactics and organization, and the threat for the foreseeable future didnot seem to warrant the effort to make changes. Indeed, campaigning against theIndians mixed periods of intense activity and hardship with less-active periods ofresupply and replenishment.20

A few Army officers, including some senior officers who accepted the needto adjust to new weapons technologies, pushed ahead with the consideration ofchanges and new proposals. Understanding the implications of new weaponstechnologies required recognizing the new capabilities as different from currentcapabilities and then designing or devising appropriate organizations, doctrine,and training to adapt. This difficult task was complicated by other problems Armyleadership faced, including the absence of enabling technologies, such as fieldtelephones and radios, that would later make loose order formations practical;manpower and resource constraints; the preoccupation with unconventional war-fare against Indians; and daily mundane activities to which soldiers had to attend.These other problems created tradeoffs, some unrecognized at the time, in whetherand how the Army could devise means to adjust to new weapons technologies.21

During the 1880s and 1890s, the soldier’s daily routine on the frontier con-sumed most of his time, so that there was little time for tactical study, fieldmaneuvers, or even parade-ground drills. For those inclined to tactical study, therewere few available books or discussion forums. With little time or resources, howcould military men study, think, and design solutions to future problems? Theongoing war against the Indians demanded the attention of the entire Army andfurther discouraged officers from thinking about future wars against unknownor unlikely adversaries. With hindsight, Jamieson notes, historians identified themassacre at Wounded Knee as the closing event of the Indian wars, “but con-temporary army officers did not see it that way at all. They did not see Wounded

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Knee to be . . . a final, decisive end to a well-defined war. They understood theIndian wars as a long-running, open-ended conflict, without a clearly marked be-ginning or end.”22 Finally, although some general officers wanted to hold largefield exercises, the small size of the Army and limited budgets militated againstgathering a sufficient number of soldiers together for drill and examination oftactics. Commanding General John Schofield opposed field exercises because hedid not have the money to hold them.23

The need to create knowledge to define and answer questions about forcestructure, tactics, and organization was recognized by some influential people,although the way exercises were conceived and evaluated limited their usefulness.Lt. Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman, commanding general of the Army after theCivil War, recognized the need for serious study of military problems. In a letterto Francis V. Greene, an officer who had observed and written a lengthy report onthe Russo-Turkish War,24 Sherman stated:

Modern war calls for a larger measure of intelligence on the part of the individualofficer and soldier than it did twenty years ago. . . . Tactical changes are forced onus, . . . thus necessitating more study and preparation on the part of the professionalsoldier, than in former times.25

By the 1890s, the Army was following Sherman’s recommendation to give moretime to practical field exercises and maneuvers instead of classroom studies of tac-tical theory and parade-ground drills. Army stations all over the country conductedtactical exercises. These field exercises, as Jamieson notes,

Were sometimes conducted as part of a post’s inspection: the visiting inspectorsdescribed to the battalion or troop commanders a theoretical situation, such as an enemyadvance against their station, and the officers deployed and maneuvered their men tomeet this imaginary contingency. These exercises tested the ability of commanders tosolve practical tactical problems and their soldiers to operate in the field.26

The exercises conducted during the 1880s and 1890s emphasized realistictarget practice and skirmish formations to examine the individual skills and ini-tiative of both officers and enlisted men. But, even when they did try to conductrealistic field exercises, the results were of little advantage in deciding difficultand complex tactical questions, because those managing the exercises gave littlethought to organizing them—that is, to stating clearly what combat outcomes theyexpected so that deviations from expectations could be analyzed—or to integrat-ing small-scale exercises into larger ones. New techniques or new technology thatmight have been developed further were lost for a time. For example, in 1882, anobserver at an Artillery school field exercise saw gunners create new techniquesand use new technology, including a field telephone. These techniques and tech-nology would not be fully developed and capable of widespread deployment forseveral more decades.27

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Military leaders were bombarded by the sometimes useful, but more oftenuseless, proposals and weapons, gadgets, and machinery of nineteenth-centuryinventors. Moreover, in any exercise, it was unclear what actions constitutedevidence of a successful attack or defense. Exercise referees faced a difficulttradeoff between continuing an exercise uninterrupted so as to enhance its realism,or to disrupt the realism by stopping the exercise so that men and officers couldlearn by evaluating the positions of their units. This dilemma was neither simplenor easily solvable, but senior leadership also did not make it a topic of constantreview and study. One colonel studied umpiring in the American and Europeanarmies, but failed to develop a satisfactory system, and no continuing studieswere commissioned. Together, these conditions made it next to impossible toderive useful answers to pressing tactical questions. For example, in criticizingthe 1891 Leavenworth manuals, some officers worried about the difficulty ofcontrolling troops in combat due to the physical distance between leaders inloose-order formations. But it seems that no maneuvers were proposed to examineand test this question about command and control of loose-order formations. Asa result, in the 1890s, some officers continued to resist loose-order formations.28

Such resistance is not surprising, as army leadership did not make it a priorityto establish evidentiary standards and a fund of knowledge that related meansto ends and tactics to outcomes, so that progress could be made in exercises toanswer such questions. Congress did not structure the War Department to createsuch knowledge, and senior Army leadership did not emphasize the importance ofcreating and accumulating tactical and operational knowledge in testimony beforeCongress year in and year out.29

The organization of the nineteenth-century War Department and the Army’smanagement style allowed only limited trial-and-error learning about potentialbattlefield situations faced by the Army. For example, the technology representedby the Gatling and other machine guns outran tactical theory. By the 1890s, Armyofficers still had not resolved the questions that the introduction of these weaponshad raised during the 1860s and 1870s. Officers asked good questions: shouldrapid-firing guns be considered as artillery pieces or as a new type of ordnance?How did rapid-firing guns fit into the Army’s organization? What tactics shouldgovern their use? But there were no easy answers to these questions, and answerswere provided only on the self-initiative of bright individual soldiers.30

In the 1870s and 1880s, Maj. Edward B. Williston tried as hard as any singleofficer to resolve uncertainties about the machine gun’s role and organization.His battery systematically tested a variety of rapid-firing weapons and tactics forthem—these were the only such experiments conducted before the early 1900s.Convinced that machine guns were uniquely valuable, in 1886, Williston advocatedthat they be organized into a separate service. After this proposal was rejected,Williston urged that, at the very least, the infantry-versus-artillery question beresolved by assigning the quick-firing arms to the artillery. But the Army itselfwas not organized to do on a wide-scale what Williston did on his own; that is, toorganize to learn.31 As a consequence, there was a good deal of disagreement not

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only about tactics, but about the potential operational capability of new weapons,and the need to devote resources to the design of maneuvers and training. Ineffect, there were no independent standards of proof and no organizational meansto enhance the potential to learn regardless of the heroic efforts of individuals.Without a systematic program to develop knowledge about new weapons andtactics, the tradeoffs revealed during actual operational use stymied any thoughtsabout doing new things with new weapons. Officers were reluctant to use Gatlingguns because experience against the Indians showed the difficulty of movingGatling guns over rough terrain, a significant drawback in mobile warfare againstIndians.32

THE NAVY AND THE WAMPANOAG

Like the Army, the Navy had individuals who conducted significant researchon various technologies that enabled future progress. In the words of historianFrederick S. Harrod, “much of the work involved was unsystematic, and thelines between amateur tinkerer and scientific researcher were frequently not welldefined.”33 The fate of the warship Wampanoag illustrates how the Navy featuredthe same defect in organizational learning and knowledge accumulation as thepost-Civil War Army. The Wampanoag story took place amid deep reductions inthe size and budget of the Navy, intense competition over promotion and careeradvancement, and passionate debate over the status of line versus staff officers.

During the Civil War, commerce raiding by CSS Alabama and CSS Florida,both built in British navy yards, seriously degraded U.S.-British relations.34 Torespond to this situation, Congress authorized the construction of a new class ofscrew frigate warships—to be the fastest in the world—for commerce destruction.This class of frigates would be used to attack British ports and commercial vesselsduring war. The Wampanoag, the lead ship in this new class of frigates, waslaid down in 1863.35 It was not ready for sea trials until 1868 because mostnaval construction had stopped with the end of the Civil War. Benjamin FranklinIsherwood, chief of the Bureau of Steam Engineering, designed the propulsionplant and specified the hull configuration, while Naval Constructor John Lenthall,chief of the Bureau of Construction and Repair—with advice from clipper-shiparchitect B. F. Delano—was responsible for the overall design.36

As specified by Congress, Isherwood’s design placed great emphasis on at-taining maximum speed.37 The design, however, had some drawbacks. Convenedin 1868, a board of line officers led by Rear Adm. Louis M. Goldsborough (one ofthe most respected line officers in the Navy) was very critical of the Wampanoag.38

Chief among the board’s complaints was the limited capacity for storing coal, wa-ter, ammunition, and supplies in the underwater portion of the hull, as the hullwas narrow. The crew’s accommodations also were confined because more than25 percent of the ship’s coal had to be stored on the berthing deck. The engineeringspaces were vulnerable to battle damage. The ship’s sails were small, and poorly

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proportioned and distributed. Finally, there were some complaints about heavyrolling of the vessel in a seaway due to the location of the ship’s center of gravityand the slimness of the hull.39

Yet, the Wampanoag’s speed also offered significant operational and tacticaladvantages over existing warships, and, especially, merchant vessels. Commis-sioned on September 17, 1867, the Wampanoag was ordered to sea for her steamtrials in February 1868. The report of the trial trip submitted by Capt. J. W. A.Nicholson to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles concluded that the Wampanoagwas “faultless in her model, and, as a steamship, the fastest in the world.” CaptainNicholson also noted the Wampanoag’s various performance shortfalls, but addedthat improvements could be made easily.40 The Board of Engineers, consisting ofT. Zeller, J. S. Albert, and J. H. Long, noted that the ship averaged more than 16.7knots over 37.5 consecutive hours of maximum speed, and into a mid-winter gale.The engineers concluded that the Wampanoag’s maximum performance could bemaintained easily during a passage across the Atlantic Ocean “and we are of theopinion that it is not equaled for speed or economy by that of any sea-going vesselof either the merchant or naval service of any country.”41 Heavily armed with three5.3-inch Parrott rifled cast-iron guns, two 24-pound howitzers, and other guns, thespeedy Wampanoag class of frigate could have very quickly altered the balance ofpower at sea.

To fully appreciate the Wampanoag’s performance in her sea trials, we mustrefer to steamship performance of the time. The fastest commercial ocean steamerswere the City of Paris (of the Inman line) and the Ville de Paris (of the French line).Each made the westward trip across the Atlantic at an average speed of 14.5 knots.The fastest British navy steamers, the Warrior and the Black Prince, were classifiedas 14-knot steamers. This determination, however, was the result of a speed trialover a measured mile, rather than over a period of several days and varying weatherand sea conditions. Although speed was a primary factor in commercial steamshipdesign, the Wampanoag’s performance was only matched eleven years later, in1879, by the steamer Arizona, and by the British warships Iris and Mercury.Twenty-one years after the Wampanoag’s sea trials, another American ship—theCharleston—finally matched the Wampanoag’s sustained speed.42 Yet, despiteher performance in sea trials, the Wampanoag decommissioned on May 5, 1868.Renamed the Florida on May 15, 1869, she was laid up until 1874 when shebecame a receiving and store ship at New London, Connecticut. In 1885, theFlorida was sold.43

Noted military historian Elting E. Morison argues that the Wampanoag wasa tremendous intellectual achievement by its designer, naval engineer BenjaminFranklin Isherwood. The ship type also offered tremendous strategic advantage tothe U.S. Navy. Morison writes:

Isherwood took a single element, the marine steam engine, which in its primitivecondition was surrounded by ignorance. By his work he moved far beyond the existingstate of the art. This in itself was a considerable achievement, but he went beyond that.

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He thought of the effect of this single element upon all the other connected elements.Because he did so he went on to develop novel ways to transfer the power availablein the engines and then proceeded to act with success in a related field not strictly his,ship design. He then went even further in his calculations. Proceeding from his conceptof the fast, heavily gunned vessel that could keep the sea for long periods, he reachedthe conclusion that such ships if built in large number would alter the contemporaryideas of naval warfare. Rejecting the existing doctrine of harbor defense, blockade,and independent actions, he produced the concept of total command of the sea by theactions of fleets of ships in remote waters. He argued this proposition with force andclarity thirty years before it occurred to Alfred Thayer Mahan at a time when Mahanhad all the material elements at hand to force him into making such a generalization.44

It is clear that the Wampanoag was a remarkable ship for her time, and her fatebegs the question: why did the Navy reject her? The conclusion of the Civil Warended the potential need to attack British ports and commercial vessels—and theremoval of this mission meant that steam propulsion was no longer necessary to theNavy. Senior naval officers wished to return to pre-Civil War duties and missions.Morison believes that line officers rejected the Wampanoag because its adoptionwould irrevocably change the age-old way of life at sea under sail—includingthe status of line officers. In From Sail to Steam, Alfred Thayer Mahan recountsa conversation that illustrates Morison’s point about Navy officers’ resistance tochanging their way of life at sea.

I was told by Mr. Charles King, when President of Columbia College, that he had beenpresent in company with [Admiral Stephen] Decatur at one of the early experimentsin steam navigation. Crude as the appliances still were, demonstration was conclusive;and Decatur, whatever his prejudices, was open to conviction. “Yes,” he said gloomily,to King, “it is the end of our business; hereafter any man who can boil a tea-kettle willbe as good as the best of us.”45

Historian Lance C. Buhl argues that Morison’s explanation is too narrow.The line officers’ rejection of steam engines extended to engineers as well,and was animated by conflict over status, authority, and organizational power,46

which explains the highly emotionally charged rhetoric and animosity towardIsherwood.47 Indeed, the debates and arguments about the operational capabilityof the Wampanoag were excessively ad hominem.48 However insightful, Buhl andMorison view the actions and proceedings surrounding the Wampanoag only fromthe perspective of the problems and interests faced by particular individuals. His-torian Paul A. C. Koistinen adds that during this period, the United States faced nomajor overseas security threats and Congress was far more interested in develop-ing the underdeveloped West and maximizing trade with Europe and other partsof the world. These goals required only a small Navy, and Congress repeatedlyrejected individuals’ appeals to build a larger, more advanced Navy adequate forwar in Europe or to acquire colonies in the Caribbean and the Pacific.49

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These arguments beg the question of what evidence—at what levels ofanalysis—is appropriate to determine how knowledge and analysis affected deci-sion making in the Navy and Congress. Absent from these historical analyses isan appreciation of how relevant Navy organizations did not interact to produceevidence and incentives to learn and accumulate knowledge. If Navy organiza-tions had interacted in a way that produced and accumulated knowledge, it is stillpossible that a fleet of Wampanoags would not have been built and deployed. AsNavy Captain Jan M. van Tol correctly observes, deploying a fleet of Wampanoagswould have posed major operational and logistical challenges, including the costof establishing and maintaining overseas coaling stations.50 Nevertheless, the ab-sence of interacting Navy organizations prevented such issues from being raised,discussed, and debated, and thereby obviated choice.

COMPARING THE ARMY AND NAVY

In summary, the lack of substantial intellectual effort devoted to organizingto learn created a significant design problem for senior army and naval officersof the post-Civil War era. They might recognize one or more problems due tonew weapons technologies, but had no basis on which to judge if the effects ofthose problems were really serious. Neither senior army nor naval leaders hadthe organizational means to figure out how to respond to new conditions or rapidchanges, how to create and evaluate evidence, or determine what evidence wouldjustify policy changes. Senior army officers did not examine exercise results fromthe standpoint of building evidence to support or reject new operational concepts.

In the Navy, senior leaders sponsored single-ship exercises, trials, and ex-periments. These efforts, conducted in relative isolation from each other, did notstimulate senior leaders to recognize the opportunities for greater combat effec-tiveness that new technologies (e.g., steam propulsion) would engender and failedto use exercises to improve or explore future operational concepts. Before theNavy’s 1873 maneuvers off Key West, at-sea multiship exercises had little impacton institutional and technological innovation. During this period, naval personnelin Washington advanced innovations designed by Navy’s technical bureau and pri-vate sector inventors. Multiship at-sea maneuvers began in the 1880s when RearAdm. Stephen Luce and the North Atlantic Squadron conducted a few threat-basedmaneuvers off the U.S. east coast. These maneuvers provided the model for Navyfleet exercises over the next fifty years.51

There was no lack of smart senior leaders, but these leaders did not understandwhat sorts of organizations and interorganizational relationships would fosterlearning. Generals Sherman and Sheridan clearly understood that the future woulddiffer significantly from the past. Those civilians and officers having the intellect todevelop probing questions and to provide appropriate answers were hobbled by theabsence of organizational means to make smarter decisions. In succeeding years,no organization, or arrangement among organizations, would be designed by senior

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Army and civilian leaders—and presented to Congress—to create knowledgerelating military means to military ends.

Like the Army, no organization, or arrangement among organizations, wouldbe designed by senior Navy and civilian leaders—and presented to Congress—tocreate knowledge relating military means to military and foreign policy ends. Yet,as the nineteenth century progressed, the Navy began to improve its ability tolearn. At least three different naval organizations were established between 1873and 1900 that provided the organizational infrastructure for a multiorganizationalsystem. In 1873, the Naval Institute—a private organization dedicated to navaland maritime issues—was founded at the Naval Academy in Annapolis. There isno organization like the Naval Institute in any of the other armed services. Thezeal with which the institute guards its editorial independence has varied over theyears, but it remains a forum to discuss ways and means to improve the Navy. In1884, Rear Adm. Stephen B. Luce founded the Naval War College—the first warcollege in the United States and the first military service institution in the world tobe designated a war college. And, on March 13, 1900, in General Order No. 544,Navy Secretary John D. Long established the General Board, “the most importantof all Navy Department boards during the first half of the twentieth century.”52 TheGeneral Board was given no administrative or executive responsibilities, nor didit have command authority over other Navy Department components. In addition,the board had no special relationship with the president. Its purpose was simple: toprovide the secretary of the Navy advice on war plans, naval bases, ship buildingpolicy, and other questions. In accomplishing these tasks, in a harbinger of its rolein doctrinal evolution and technology development, it coordinated the work of theNaval War College and the Office of Naval Intelligence.53 The first leader of theGeneral Board was Adm. George Dewey, the most distinguished naval officer ofhis time. After Admiral Dewey’s death in 1917, it became policy to detail onlyvery senior officers as chairman of the General Board, “often the one who had justrelinquished command of the Fleet and was on his last tour of duty before retiring.”Most of the other board positions were filled by senior officers who had occupiedhigh command positions in the Fleet and would reach retirement in a few years.Such officers were “energetic” and independent thinkers.54 With the creation ofthe General Board, the necessary parts of a Navy multiorganizational system couldbegin to interact on discrete problems, and create incentives to produce and useanalysis and knowledge to define and answer questions about naval technologiesand combat.

Chapter 3 will look in detail at the role of such multiorganizational systemsin how the army and naval aviation communities addressed new technologies.


1. Congress’s reorganization of the post-Civil War Army made it difficult forArmy leaders to conceive of the need for institutionalized experimentation,testing, and analysis.

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2. The demobilization of the post-Civil War Navy made it difficult for Navyleaders to conceive of the need for institutionalized experimentation, test-ing, and analysis.

3. Congress did not structure the Navy and War departments to create tacticaland operational knowledge, and senior Army and Navy leaders did notemphasize the importance of creating and accumulating knowledge intestimony before Congress.

4. As the nineteenth century progressed, three different organizations wereestablished—the Naval Institute, the Naval War College, and the GeneralBoard—that provided the organizational infrastructure for a multiorgani-zational system.

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3

The Future of Military Aviation between theWars: The Army and Navy Take Different Paths

The present [September 1941] maneuvers are the closest peacetime approximation toactual fighting conditions that has ever been undertaken in this country. But what is ofthe greatest importance, the mistakes and failures will not imperil the nation or costthe lives of men. In the past we have jeopardized our future, penalized our leaders andsacrificed our men by training untrained troops on the battlefield.

—Gen. George C. Marshall1

INTRODUCTION

Writing in 1962, Bernard and Fawn Brodie observe that the “choice of strategiesand of weapons systems is not only more difficult than it has ever been before,but also involves questions that are deeply and essentially baffling.”2 Expandingon that idea in From Crossbow to H-Bomb, they surveyed the role of knowledgeand analysis in combat and in preparation for combat—through the design andproduction of weapons and the invention of operational concepts. Their conclusionis hardly surprising: “the military problem [of choosing new weapons systemsor inventing new operational concepts] is, even in its stark outlines, not onlybeyond the competence of any one person or group of persons but beyond thecompetence of any one profession.”3 The implications of this conclusion areprofound; they lead serious observers to ponder how (1) Department of Defense(DoD) senior leaders manage their attention to issues and problems, (2) the DoD isorganized to identify and integrate disparate domains of knowledge when makingdecisions about new weapons or operational concepts, and (3) the DoD mayimprove interaction among professions, offices, and persons.

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the future of military aviation between the wars 29

It is never easy to devise an effective set of organizational arrangements, pro-cedures, and processes dedicated to learning how to do new things. The obstaclesto learning encountered by the U.S. Joint Forces Command (US JFCOM) offera case in point. Goal displacement—the substitution of intermediate goals forthe ultimate goal—has dominated the way the US JFCOM conducts its programof military experimentation. In this program, the important measure of organiza-tional performance is the “outputs”—the scheduling of large numbers of tightlyprogrammed experiments each year. The tight scheduling of experimental eventsmeans that there is inadequate time between each event to apply what is learnedfrom a previous experiment to the next. Lost in this frenetic scheduled activity isthe time to think, analyze results, explore concepts, and exploit serendipity; conse-quently, each event has little value as an aid or stimulus to learning, and the entireprogram does not allow for the necessary accumulation of knowledge.4 Adm. Ed-mund P. Giambastiani, Jr., formerly commander of US JFCOM and currently vicechairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), did not change the practice of conduct-ing experiments in this mechanistic manner.5 An August 2006 self-evaluation byUS JFCOM’s experimentation directorate admits attenuated relationships betweenends and means and structures and processes, and ineffective strategic planning.Employees complain about goal displacement and a lack of understanding of theirleaders’ organizational priorities.6

The late Capt. Edward L. Beach, naval historian and commanding officerof the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear-powered submarine, described a similarsituation in the pre-World War II Navy. Beach showed how training was under-mined through goal displacement, wherein the original goal of improving combateffectiveness was supplanted by the instrumental means—training and competi-tion in training—so that the original relationship between training and combateffectiveness vanished. Writing of the pre-World War II training, Beach observed:

Training was the shibboleth to which we all subscribed. Along the line, competitionbetween ships and units had been instituted as a means to improve training, andby 1941, winning was more important than anything else. Upon it hung prizes andpromotion—not to mention that indefinable “ship’s spirit” that denied the impossible.Many were the stratagems devised to improve one’s score, including demonstrationsthat unsatisfactory equipment could be used despite failure by others. Thus, machineguns that rusted in minutes on exposure to sea air, and hence were of no value whateverto naval warfare, were overhauled just before practice firings and afterward repackedin heavy grease—making them unusable—until cleaned and overhauled for the nextpractice. Undependable diesels were maintained by working engine-room crews dayand night, sometimes until they dropped in warm corners for a few moments of sleep,all in the name of making a poorly designed engine room perform so that the shipwould not “get a bad name.”

Similarly, depth-charge attacks were graded on the excellence of the charts pre-pared afterward, in which a perfect score was achieved if all the little circles depicting“lethal radius” touched each other: that is, the submarine could not pass betweenthem, ergo it must have been “sunk.” Such results required only a little skill with a

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drawing pen. Similarly, ship engineers routinely squirreled away extra fuel in theirtanks during noncompetitive periods, so that during engineering competition it couldbe doled out as necessary to indicate less fuel used than was the case, and thus showoperational economy for the judging period. One battleship won the engineering “E”(for Excellence) by cutting off virtually all internal heat, lights, and power, and dras-tically reducing fresh-water consumption, becoming practically uninhabitable in theprocess. A gunnery “E” was once awarded because the ship was given a slight list,by judicious use of fuel, exactly equal to the precalculated elevation required of theguns, which could therefore be fired at a faster rate. Performance was the criterion bywhich careers rose and fell; practice always had to be successful, regardless of whatwas tested. Torpedo readiness tests, for example, were always preceded by a thor-ough overhaul of the torpedo to be fired, regardless of whether such a test accuratelyrepresented probable wartime conditions. In extreme cases, actual “gundecking” tookplace (a “gundecked” report was composed on the gundeck and sometimes bore littlerelation to the real task and data involved).

Those who raised voices against such practices (and there were many) wereusually put down as being too lazy to engage in real competition. The payoff was inresults, regardless of usefulness or applicability to improved efficiency, and the fervorwas analogous to the hysteria over college football.7

This chapter will examine the problem of experimentation and learning atsenior levels of the Army and Navy. It will explore this problem by contrasting theNavy’s and the Army Air Corps’s aviation communities between World War I andWorld War II. The Army and naval aviation communities both faced constrainedbudgets and immature technology. Aviation technology would remain immaturefor decades. During the interwar period, good aircraft designs were mainly theproduct of fortuitous and time-consuming trial-and-error research. In the Wrightbrothers’ lecture delivered in December 1946, famed aerodynamicist Theodorevon Karman observed that the field of aerodynamics was still a collection of“mathematical and half-digested, isolated, experimental results.”8 The NationalAdvisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) was established in 1915 and afew years passed before systematic experimental research into propellers, wingshapes, and airfoils would begin to accumulate.9 Hence, senior officers evaluatingthe claims, predictions, and hopes of aviation enthusiasts could only know thatthey did not have the knowledge to make decisions about military aviation. It alsowas not clear when sufficient knowledge to justify choice would be available. Thedifferent organizational means the Army and Navy aviation communities usedto deal with their uncertainties is the critical factor in judging their respectiveoperational and technological progress.

THE INTRODUCTION OF CARRIER-BASED AVIATION INTO THE NAVY

In an unplanned way, the Navy organized itself to make smart choicesabout uncertain aviation technologies and operational concepts for carrier-based

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aviation.10 The story begins in the years before World War I, during a time whenthere were strong opinions but few facts about the use of military aviation at sea.In 1908, after Glenn Curtiss flew from Albany to New York City (in 170 minutes)to claim the New York World’s $10,000 prize, the World’s editors claimed: “Thebattles of the future will be fought in the air! The aeroplane will decide the des-tiny of nations.”11 A Scientific American editorial in 1910 stated that “to affirmthat the aeroplane is going to ‘revolutionize’ naval warfare of the future is to beguilty of the wildest exaggeration.”12 Others predicted high promise. In 1913, RearAdm. Bradley A. Fiske suggested the use of airplanes as “the simplest, cheapestand most readily available means of defending certain of our island possessionsagainst invasion or capture by a foreign power.”13

Although the Wright brothers were the first to demonstrate heavier-than-air-powered flight controlled by an onboard pilot, the United States quickly fellbehind the Europeans in experimenting with the new technology.14 By 1914, thetechnical performance of European aircraft exceeded that of U.S. aircraft, withU.S. development stymied, in part, by litigation between the Glenn Curtiss andWright companies over patents.15 Once World War I combat began, the higherperformance of European airplanes allowed them to do some interesting things,including reconnaissance, dropping torpedoes against anchored ships, aerial ar-tillery spotting, and close air support during the Somme offensive in 1916.16 GreatBritain pioneered the use of naval aviation during World War I. Toward the end ofthe war it designed and built the world’s first aircraft carrier, Furious.17 The air-craft launched from British carriers attacked land targets and engaged in scoutingand reconnaissance. U.S. Navy officers worked closely with their British counter-parts during the war, and emerged from the war convinced that aircraft would beeffective weapons.18

Post-World War I Organizational Interaction

Over the course of fewer than ten years, a set of relationships—a multior-ganizational system19—grew up in the Navy encompassing the Fleet, the Bureauof Aeronautics, the Naval War College (NWC), and the General Board.20 Thismultiorganizational system identified and corrected errors in the development ofnew technologies and creation of new operational concepts. How this multiorga-nizational system developed its critical role in the introduction of carrier-basedaviation into the Navy is central to the differences between the Navy and Armyaviation communities.

By 1919, aviation questions had become a matter of public concern. TheNavy’s General Board recommended to Navy Secretary Josephus Daniels that hepropose to President Woodrow Wilson and the Congress a program to constructaircraft carriers and develop effective aircraft. The following year, cumulativeexperience and aerodynamic research had created the necessary background fornew arguments about the role of aircraft and its status with respect to established

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weapons platforms. The institutional Navy broadly concurred that changes indoctrine and procurement were necessary. The General Board stated in its annualreport (dated September 24, 1920) that aircraft carriers “should be considered asan absolutely essential type in a modern fleet. For the United States Navy they areurgently needed.”21

The debate over whether aircraft would drive the battleship from the seaand replace it as the Navy’s main offensive weapon was initiated by the chiefU.S. advocate of air power, Army Brig. Gen. William “Billy” Mitchell.22 OnDecember 5, 1919, he appeared before Representative Fiorello La Guardia’s (R-NY) congressional committee on aviation and argued that an air force alone couldprevent hostile invasion, and an air force alone would soon be superior to a navy fornational defense.23 Nevertheless, informed opinion doubted the ability of aircraft,at the existing state of technology, to alter immediately and profoundly the conductof warfare.24 La Guardia (who took a leave from Congress to serve in the AviationCorps during World War I) noted the extremes of the debate: There was a tendency“on the part of some members of the House to pooh-pooh the airplane and regardit as a mere experiment or a toy. There was also a tendency on the part of othersto regard it as a miracle weapon that would win the war. I argued against bothattitudes.”25

Meanwhile, senior Navy officers Rear Adm. William F. Fullam and RearAdm. William S. Sims wrote newspaper and magazine articles (e.g., in the NewYork Tribune and Sea Power) and testified before Congress about the promise ofair power. Rear Admiral Sims’s January 1920 charges that the Navy had beenunprepared for war by 1917 stimulated the Senate Committee on Naval Affairsto hold hearings. The hearings substantiated Sims’s opinions while increasingthe size of the public audience for discussion about military aviation policy.Articles about naval aviation began to be published in major national and regionalnewspapers. Behind the scenes, senior naval officers became convinced that navalaviation merited its own bureau. In 1919, Navy Secretary Daniels and CNO Adm.William S. Benson had opposed the creation of a Bureau of Aeronautics. Thebureau chiefs and then-director of Naval Aviation, Capt. T. T. Craven, supportedthat decision. Mitchell’s public attacks on naval aviation changed their views.26

In mid-October 1920, the Navy began a series of bombing tests, includingbombing against an obsolete and anchored battleship. Although these tests wereconducted secretly, photographs showing ship bomb damage were smuggled to theLondon Illustrated News and published in December 1920—shortly before sched-uled House hearings on future Army and Navy appropriations. These photographsalso were published by major American newspapers amid cries for a thoroughdiscussion of naval aviation. When he testified before the House AppropriationsCommittee, Mitchell seized the opportunity presented by the press frenzy over theship bomb damage photographs to belittle naval aviation. Mitchell argued for aunified air service and claimed that airplanes would sink warships.

The challenges posed by air power advocates led Senator William EdgarBorah (R-Idaho), on January 25, 1921, to demand an investigation of what

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constituted a “modern fighting navy” including analysis of the value of the bat-tleship construction program.27 In the meantime, on January 22, 1921, NavySecretary Josephus Daniels asked the Navy’s General Board to report on whichtype of ship should be the future mainstay of the Navy.28 On February 2, 1921,the General Board reported that “From the ancient galley period to the presenttime . . . the strength of navies has always been based upon the number and powerof its ships of the fighting line; that is, of its battleships.”29 The General Boardalso noted that several seemingly critical challenges to the battleship had been metsuccessfully. In the 1880s, cheap torpedoes were touted as the weapon capable ofmaking the battleship obsolete. This threat, however, was answered by increasedunderwater protection, larger defense batteries, and larger, faster, more effectivedestroyers. In World War I, submarines were declared to be the main threat. Thisthreat, again, was answered by the use of destroyers and other fast ships armedwith depth charges and listening devices.30

The Board predicted that “future employment of aircraft in connection withnaval operations will introduce new problems of attack and defense of far-reachingimportance. They will become increasingly valuable adjuncts to the fleet . . .[Yet, at the present time] the defense of surface ships against aircraft attack,whether by bombs or torpedoes, seems fairly well solved.”31 The proponentsof submarines and aircraft, stated the Board, ask the Navy “to accept hopes foraccomplishment . . . It would be the height of unwisdom for any nation possessingsea power to pin its faith and change its practice upon mere theories as to thefuture development of new and untried weapons.”32 In other words, the GeneralBoard argued that the evidence for the claims of aircraft proponents was simplyinsufficient and inadequate.

The Board cited a report with conclusions parallel to its own submitted bythe British First Lord of the Admiralty to Parliament.33 Senior Navy officerssupported the Board’s conclusions. For example, Adm. Henry Mayo (the WorldWar I commander of the Atlantic and European Fleets), Adm. Charles B. McVay(chief of the Bureau of Ordnance), and Adm. David W. Taylor (chief of Bureau ofConstruction and Repair) gave public speeches, published articles, and presentedCongressional testimony in support of the General Board’s views and arguments.Foreign navy officers, including British Admiral John Rushworth Jellicoe, FrenchAdmiral Lucien Lacaze, and German Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz, joined the frayand wrote in favor of battleships.34 Navy Secretary Daniels also argued against theviews of air power advocates and vigorously criticized Billy Mitchell’s attemptsto qualify himself as a “naval expert.”35

In February 1921, air power advocates received support from three importantofficers: Rear Adm. William F. Fullam, Rear Adm. William S. Sims, presidentof the NWC, and Rear Adm. Bradley A. Fiske.36 Fiske believed aviation “wasdestined to bring a revolution in warfare in comparison to which the revolutionbrought about by the invention of the gun was like a vaudeville performance.”37

In testimony before the Senate Committee on Naval Affairs, Rear Adm. Fullamargued “the Navy Department utterly neglects the future. It does not have a single

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long-range submarine fit to operate with the fleet. Without an air force our navycannot exist against a navy with one.”38 At the National Republican Club, Simsadded a description of a battle between two fleets, one of sixteen battleshipsand four aircraft carriers and the other of twenty carriers, each with an equalcomplement of auxiliary ships:

The airplanes of the battleship fleet would be swept out of the air. The only defensethe battleship fleet would have then, as it would be unable to close with the swifterairplane carriers, would be through anti-aircraft guns. I have had some knowledge ofgunnery, and accurate gunnery is possible only when the target is in the same plane.The percentage of hits by anti-aircraft guns on the western front during the war wasless than one out of a thousand.

Sims concluded:

I told Chairman [Thomas Stalker] Butler [R-Pennsylvania] of the House Committeeon Naval Affairs that the only thing he and his colleagues could do in deciding uponthe building program was to accept the preponderance of the evidence; that they wouldprobably decide wrong, and that, as usual, the United States would continue to suckhind teat in naval construction.39

The press evaluated Mitchell’s charges about the advantages of air powerfavorably and argued he should be given an opportunity to test his claims.40 OnFebruary 1, CNO Adm. Robert E. Coontz and Adm. David W. Taylor told theHouse Committee on Naval Affairs that the vulnerability of the battleship toaircraft had been tested thoroughly, and there was no need to test it further. Withina week, senior Navy officials reversed that view.41 On February 7, Daniels wrote toSecretary of War Newton D. Baker that the Navy was contemplating conductingbombing tests on naval vessels to simulate aerial warfare, and suggested theexperiments be conducted jointly with the army. Baker accepted the offer andthe Joint Army and Navy Board42 was asked to study the problem and makerecommendations.

On February 28, 1921, the Joint Army and Navy Board approved the pro-gram of tests to be conducted between June 1 and July 15 and recommendedexperimental goals and targets.43 In advance of the experiment to demonstrate thefeasibility of air attack of battleships, Secretary Daniels declared that he would“stand bareheaded on the deck of a battleship and let Brig. Gen. Mitchell . . . takea crack at him with a bombing airplane.”44

Targets for the tests included two obsolete U.S. battleships, Iowa and Ken-tucky, the German battleship Ostfriesland, cruiser Frankfurt, three destroyers, andfour submarines. The German ships were to be attacked by aircraft first, and thenif still afloat, by a division of destroyers at 5,000-yards range. The most spec-tacular attack was planned against the Ostfriesland by aircraft dropping 550- and1,000-pound bombs. Admiral Coontz detailed the purposes of the tests, as follows:

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1. The ability of aircraft to locate vessels operating in the coastal zone andto concentrate on such vessels sufficient bombing airplanes to make aneffective attack.

2. The probability of hitting with bombs from airplanes a vessel under wayand capable of maneuvering, but incapable of anti-aircraft defense.

3. The damage to vessels of comparatively recent design resulting from hitsfrom bombs of various types and weights.45

The intervening months before the tests were filled with bureaucratic ma-neuvering and wild claims. Army aviators were so sure of their ability to defeatsurface vessels that they suggested the fleet be allowed to fire back at the planeswith antiaircraft guns. In other words, the aviators lobbied to increase the realismof the tests.

The test results were ambiguous to military professionals. On the one hand,the tests proved that aircraft could sink unarmored submarines, destroyers, andcruisers. The sinking of the captured German battleship Ostfriesland showed thatbattleships could be sunk by aerial bombardment. The sinking made front pagenews. On the other hand, there were mitigating factors: weather was ideal andtargets were stationary, the attacking aircraft were not themselves under attack, andthe Ostfriesland, an old battleship, did not have modern compartmentation, armor,and pumping systems. The many differences between battle and test conditionsrendered the inference invalid that battleships had become obsolete.46 Battleshipproponents minimized the air power (and submarine) threat by presenting thebattleship as an evolving weapon system.47

In September 1921, the bombs landing on the USS Alabama during bombingtests added new arguments. Officers observing these tests argued that aircraftwere the best defense against air attack, and that aircraft carriers were absolutelynecessary. Air power proponents became ever more convinced of their own views.The lack of test realism did not give them pause. Instead, air power advocatesaroused the press and public to discuss the issue of air power. Journals printingarticles on the debate included: Aviation, Aeronautical Digest, Aerial Age, U.S.Air Service, Scientific American, Army and Navy Journal, United States NavalInstitute Proceedings, Sea Power, Outlook, Review of Reviews, Literary Digest,and World’s Work. Air power advocates attracted arms controllers and proponentsof economy in naval expenditures, who believed that air power promised muchcheaper national defense.48 Partly in response to the public posturing over airpower, senior Navy leaders decided to shift the navy aviation program from underthe Director of Aviation within the office of the Chief of Naval Operations toa separate bureau. The Bureau of Aeronautics was authorized by Congress in1921.49

In the meantime, in 1919, Rear Admiral Sims, president of the NWC, hadinitiated a program of tactical and strategic games and simulations at the NWCthat addressed the potential of naval aviation. He also demanded that wargamerules for the use of aircraft be realistic. That is, he used real data culled from fleet

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exercises to write wargame rules. NWC faculty corresponded regularly with fleetnaval aviators to become aware of “lessons” from experience that could be usedto refine the games.

By 1922, Rear Admiral Sims had instituted a process whereby the potentialof naval aviation deployed with the fleet could be established systematically andrigorously through tactical and strategic simulations at the NWC. These simula-tions addressed various issues concerning the effective employment of aviation,including how aviation should be based and supported and how aviation mightbe used—given anticipated technological developments. Rear Admiral WilliamA. Moffett at the Bureau of Aeronautics paid close attention to fleet exercisesand NWC wargames, and used that information to write proposals for higherperformance aircraft. He also provided to the NWC wargamers estimates of fu-ture aircraft performance. The wargamers used these estimates in simulations andwargames to examine potential future military operations. The inferences drawnfrom NWC wargames, influenced by Bureau of Aeronautics estimates of futureaircraft performance, were provided to the Fleet to inform the operational is-sues examined in exercises at sea. The results of these exercises were used inlater NWC wargames and by Bureau of Aeronautics officials to set new technicalaircraft requirements.50

The Navy pursued this sort of interaction and rigorous analysis despite con-tinued uncertainties and doubts about naval aviation. Speaking at a Kiwanis Clubmeeting in 1922, former assistant secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt,stated, “It is highly unlikely that an airplane or fleet of them could ever successfullysink a fleet of Navy vessels under battle conditions.”51

By 1923, the Navy had in place the multiorganizational analytic system of theGeneral Board, the Fleet, the NWC, and the Bureau of Aeronautics. The GeneralBoard played an especially important role in the deliberations about the interplayof carrier design, aviation technology, and operational concepts. The GeneralBoard’s members asked demanding questions about tactics, operational concepts,and risks of developing new technologies. In effect, the concerns, deliberations,and questions posed by the General Board about aviation created informal rulesof analysis and evidence. These informal rules of evidence were honed by theinteraction of the General Board with the Fleet, the Bureau of Aeronautics, and theNWC. Senior officers constantly sought to gather information about matters theyneeded to decide, and this concern was passed along to other Navy organizations.

Despite continued analysis and refinement of thinking about naval air power,naval aviation remained subordinate to the battleship throughout the 1920s and1930s. The analysis conducted in 1924 by the General Board’s Special PolicyBoard played a key role in maintaining the position of the battleship.52 The SpecialPolicy Board heard testimony that made it clear that proponents of battleships andair power saw limits in each other’s positions, but none in their own.53 The Board’sreport was an internal Navy document that justified the retention of the battleshipstrategy for two reasons. First, civilian aviation experts projected technologicallimitations in aircraft performance. Second, those charged with advancing aviation

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had achieved their own prominence in the context of battleships, and saw aviationas supporting rather than challenging battleships. In essence, their conclusionsderived from an incremental analysis of existing operations and doctrine. Thenew technology was examined in terms of value added to known and understoodoperational capability. There were no accepted analytic tools (e.g., a gedankenexperiment or a test of a hypothesis that can be performed only in the mind) topermit an examination of technology, operations, and doctrine radically differentfrom what members of the Special Policy Board knew and had experienced. Thus,a different employment of naval aviation was only a possibility if a rival navalpower should pursue a very different aviation mission, such as offensive operationsutilizing torpedo planes.54 Such an examination would be much more difficult toconceive (and carry out). It would involve analysis of implications and effectsmuch more remote from those experienced by members of the Board.

In 1925, the General Board issued a special report that supported the institu-tional and technological supremacy of the battleship and its partisans. The GeneralBoard defined the Navy’s technological needs in terms of two strategic missions:to gain, and then maintain control of disputed seas and sea communications. Thesemissions involved fighting the adversary’s fleet, which required a mixture of ships,the most important of which was the battleship.55 The General Board recognizedthe aviation threat to battleships, but NACA and MIT (Massachusetts Institute ofTechnology) civilian aeronautical experts did not foresee the rapid technologicalevolution of aircraft. Future improvements of aircraft were presented as more lim-ited than those of the battleship, even in the context of naval arms treaty ceilings.For example, the General Board compared calculations of the expected numbersof hits delivered by battleships and aircraft in war based on the Washington Treatylimitations. This analysis favored battleships.56

The 1925 scheduled rotation of naval commands also had an important effecton the analysis and furtherance of the possibilities of naval aviation. Capt. (laterAdmiral) Joseph M. Reeves left the NWC (where he had been a leader in theconduct of wargames) and was appointed Commander of Aircraft Squadrons.He was given broad authority by the Battle Fleet CINC to experiment and testideas about tactics and strategy. To that end, he used the experimental carrier, theLangley, to examine different ways to conduct operations. In the NWC wargames,Reeves learned that the greatest effect from a carrier’s aircraft was as a group.However, in operational trials, Langley’s take-off and recovery times were tooslow to deliver the requisite pulse of aircraft and ordnance against opposing ships.Reeves drastically cut the take-off and recovery cycle and increased the numberof aircraft that could be operated from fourteen to as many as forty-two.

The Naval Aviation Multiorganizational System

Writing in 1949, Gen. Henry A. “Hap” Arnold observed that the 1925Mitchell trial stimulated naval leaders to become “air-minded in a big way.”57

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Even with hindsight, Arnold simply did not understand how the interactions ofofficers (such as Reeves) representing the General Board, the Fleet, the NWC,and Bureau of Aeronautics determined organizational activities, including simu-lations, wargames, fleet problems, and new technology initiatives. The interplayof organizational units and activities created a multiorganizational system thateffectively conducted systematic analysis of the potential of new aviation and re-lated technologies and operational concepts. Unlike their Army Air Corps (AAC)counterparts who made strident assertions about the value of aviation withoutembarking on a program to develop knowledge about technology or operations,senior navy officers accepted the technological uncertainties of aviation. Theydid not try to mandate a decision to choose either battleships or aviation as anapproved means to deliver ship-killing ordnance. Navy leaders, in particular themembers of the General Board, recognized such a decision would be premature.

It is worth reiterating that the creation and evolution of the multiorganizationalnaval aviation community was partly accidental. No naval leader decided thatinteraction among offices concerned with aviation would be an effective forum forlearning. Yet, once the interaction among the General Board, the Fleet, NWC, andBureau of Aeronautics began to direct analysis and testing, the relationships amongthese organizations strengthened. Furthermore, no naval leader thought to applythe aviation multiorganizational arrangement to other strictly naval problems, forexample, the Bureau of Ordnance’s development of torpedoes. During the earlyyears of World War II, torpedoes furnished by the Bureau of Ordnance sufferedthree types of failures: unreliable depth control, premature explosions, and low-order explosions. Contemporary observers noted that scarce funds limited realisticdevelopmental testing. Yet, the lack of interaction among offices and personnelinvolved with torpedo development more readily explains both the absence ofsufficient testing and the want of any demands for realistic testing. In a 1943speech to the Torpedo Station at Newport, Rhode Island, chief of Bureau ofOrdnance, Rear Adm. (later Adm.) William H. P. Blandy, remarked:

Even with the relatively meager funds available in time of peace, much of the worknow being done after more than a year and a half of war, could and should have beenaccomplished years ago. . . . That the work was not accomplished during peace orearlier during this war or, so far as the Bureau’s records disclose, that no one either inthe Bureau or at Newport apparently questioned the inadequacy of the design withoutsuch tests, shows a lack of practical appreciation of the problems involved which isincompatible with the Bureau’s high standards, and reflects discredit upon both theBureau of Ordnance and the Naval Torpedo Station. The Chief of the Bureau thereforedirects that as a matter of permanent policy, no service torpedo device ever be adoptedas standard until it has been tested under battle conditions simulating as nearly aspossible those which will be encountered in battle.58

With hindsight, a remarkable feature of this interwar history is that the U.S.Navy embarked on a self-evaluating course of inquiry regarding aviation despite

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the risk that it could lead to significant reductions in budgetary commitments tobattleships. Outside organizations, including Congress, made explicit the aircraft–battleship tradeoff. In modern times, some commentators have argued that only anoutside agency (e.g., one committed to operational testing) can engage in the typeof inquiry carried out within the Navy in the interwar period. The Navy’s interwarexperience evaluating carrier aviation shows that when self-evaluation involves theinteraction of separate offices, an outside agency may not be necessary to ensurethat rigorous analysis is conducted on technological and operational possibilities.

It also is important to emphasize that in the matter of carrier aviation, no sin-gle Navy office acting on its own could have pursued carrier development to thedetriment of battleships. Naval civilian and military leaders faced rapidly chang-ing technologies and uncertainty about the relationship between new technologiesand operational concepts. Given this decision problem, the most effective strat-egy was to discover organizational goals through action rather than to announce“vision statements” or goals (say, in 1919 or 1921) and use these as the basis foran acquisition program. The interaction of the four organizations permitted theNavy, as a whole, to initiate and implement innovation in aviation technology andoperations, despite doubts that persisted about carrier aviation until the onset ofcombat in 1941. The Navy’s aviation community addressed the problem of doc-trine development, operational concepts, and acquisition of new technology quitedifferently from the Army Air Corps (AAC) and the Army Air Forces (AAF).

THE ARMY AIR CORPS: THE PRIMACY OF INDEPENDENCE FROM THE ARMY

While there were Army airmen (such as then-Maj. Claire Chennault) whoadvocated attack aviation and proposed to experiment with new operational con-cepts (such as warning net stations and aerial reconnaissance) during the interwarperiod, majority opinion focused on long-range bombardment.59 Air doctrine for-mulated at the Air Corps Tactical School (ACTS) during the interwar period hadfour elements. First, bombing population centers can defeat an enemy. Second,the airplane is an offensive weapon. Third, military aviation should be centrallycontrolled by an airman who should be coequal with land and sea commanders. Inoperations with ground or sea forces, airmen should decide how air assets shouldbe used. And fourth, the priorities for air attack should be to (1) establish air supe-riority over the war theater, (2) interdict movement of enemy troops and materiel,and (3) provide close support against enemy troops.60

The formulation and reiteration of these doctrinal principles were not sub-jected to vigorous debate, historical analysis, or field experiments. No consciouseffort was made to develop or test propositions about the relationship betweenthe feasibility of precision bombardment and bombing particular target sets onthe one hand, and combat results and ultimate political outcomes on the other.61

For example, there was no vigorous intellectual debate or experimentation in theACTS—or anywhere else in the AAC—about the contribution of then-existing

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aviation to ground combat, naval operations, or even long-range bombardment.62

Nor was there a perceived need to improve the realism of AAC maneuvers andtests, or to reexamine the results of previous maneuvers as aviation technologyimproved.

Assumptions built into the Air Corps maneuvers—about developing and test-ing operational ideas and the importance of good public relations—mitigatedlearning. The 1931 Air Corps maneuvers were the largest held to that date. AirCorps Chief Maj. Gen. James E. Fechet assigned his assistant, Lt. Col. BenjaminD. Foulois, to command the exercise. The maneuvers became a very large logis-tical exercise involving a series of aerial demonstrations over major cities in theeastern United States and Great Lakes region. The public was fascinated by theaerial display, and Army Chief of Staff Gen. Douglas MacArthur and PresidentHerbert Hoover were pleased. There were no serious accidents.63

As Foulois biographer, Col. John “Fred” Shiner remarked, Foulois was a“‘doer’ rather than a great thinker.” Foulois’s intellectual approach to the exercisemissed opportunities to learn, for example about the limitations of bombardmentaircraft in air warfare. Clair Chennault, a participant in these maneuvers, describedthe efforts to examine the interaction between bombers and fighter-interceptors,noting that effective interception of bombers depended on the warning system,which,

Was a loose network of spotters who reported vaguely by telephone. Chief functionof this net was supposed to be warning civilians to take cover rather than to providedefending fighters with intelligence for interceptions. Normal orders to defensivefighters then went something like this: “The enemy bombers reported over Point X at9 a.m. Take off and destroy them.” It would then be 9:15, and X was twenty miles away.When we flew to X and returned after failing to sight any bombers, it was accepted asundeniable proof that fighters could not intercept modern bombers. . . . Major GeneralWalter (Tony) Frank, official umpire, concluded that “due to increased speeds andlimitless space it is impossible for fighters to intercept bombers and therefore it isinconsistent with the employment of air force to develop fighters.”64

Over the next two years, Chennault complained about the flaws of the 1931maneuvers, and especially about the absence of (1) a functioning aircraft warningnet, and (2) the provision of radio intelligence to defending fighters in the air. Con-trast AAC context for organizational learning described by Chennault with thatof the Royal Air Force (RAF). By 1934, the RAF’s Fighting Area Headquarters“had already developed most of what it would need for 1940, and was acquiringthe rest through a sharp and rising learning curve. It had a large and experiencedbody of strategic air defence personnel, the only ones in the world, under a seniorcommand dedicated solely to that task, organized in an effective way, possess-ing the world’s most sophisticated C3I [command, control, communications, andintelligence] system, and training for remarkably advanced operations.” Beginningin 1933–1934, through the development of “radar, high performance cantilever

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monoplanes with eight wing-mounted machine guns, and the systematic improve-ments of air tactics,” the RAF’s Fighting Area Headquarters began to solve itsremaining organizational problems. Only the RAF used radar effectively in airdefense. The RAF succeeded in 1940 against the Luftwaffe because the RAF hadspent the previous twenty years preparing for a repeat of German air attacks.65

The 1933 War Department budget funded maneuvers to be held during Mayin California and Fort Knox, Kentucky. Air Corps Chief Maj. Gen. BenjaminD. Foulois assigned Maj. Gen. Oscar Westover, assistant chief of the Air Corps,to command the California exercise. The California maneuvers had just begunwhen they were cancelled because Air Corps officers were needed to run theCivilian Conservation Corps.66 Despite the cancellation of the California exercise,Westover’s assumptions had hardened. He concluded that (1) high-speed bombers(e.g., Martin B-10 monoplanes with a top speed of more than 200 miles perhour) could fly through enemy air defenses unhindered, (2) the lower speed ofpursuit aircraft (e.g., the Boeing P-12 biplane) made them a minimal threat indaylight and useless as escorts, and (3) fighters could not operate efficiently orsafely at high speeds. Westover developed these conclusions before the advent ofradar and further progress in the design of engines and monoplane fighters. Theconclusions were not reevaluated until wartime experience over Germany showedthe viability of high-speed fighter aircraft and the vulnerability of tight formationsof well-armed bombers.67

In the meantime, the maneuvers held at Fort Knox did little to examine tacticaland operational assumptions about the use of aircraft as weapons. Chennaultcomplained that the exercise plan was developed by a board of Air Corps officersthat did not include any fighter pilots. During the maneuvers, Chennault had, asTammany Hall leader George Washington Plunkitt might have commented, “seenhis opportunities and took ‘em.”68

[The] fighters intercepted and “attacked” the bombers by day and by night, using high,intermediate, and low altitudes on every attempt that was made. Before the maneuverperiod was half completed, the bomber boys set up a deafening clamor, blaming“unfair conditions,” and began limiting the freedom of action of the defending pursuitforce. . . . [T]he simple addition of three mobile cavalry field radios, manned by trainedobservers, plugged a blind spot in the warning net and enabled the First Fighter Groupto intercept every bomber attack launched.69

In the ACTS, the quality of thought about the potential of aircraft in combatwas no better than that developed by AAC headquarters staff in Washington.70 In1935, the Air Corps Board—composed of the commandant of the ACTS and sev-eral ACTS staff—ruled a technological impossibility the development of a largepursuit airplane capable of (1) speeds 25 percent higher than existing bombers, (2)a higher ceiling capability, and (3) an extremely high rate of climb. The board al-lowed continued experimentation on pursuit aircraft designs, but urged resourcesbe concentrated on bomber self-defense.71 The Air Corps in general, and the

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ACTS in particular, showed little interest in the experience of the Spanish CivilWar—despite the use of modern aircraft by each side. Other branches of the Army,however, took a keen interest in that combat, and concluded that the strategic bom-bardment of cities and industries had little effect on morale and modern fighterscould be quite effective against bombers. These conclusions were unwelcome inthe AAC, and did not stimulate a reexamination of doctrine, operational concepts,tactics, or acquisition programs.72

Brig Gen. William “Billy” Mitchell’s proclamations about air power wereprimarily a means to force public officials to accept and implement his recom-mendations (in the manner in which he stated them); his tests were public relationsstunts—not experiments within a systematic program to learn more about the usesof aircraft in combat; indeed, some of these stunts “backfired badly for the AirCorps.”73 Neither Mitchell, nor other senior airmen, proposed or willingly or-ganized the kinds of systematic tests, field experiments, or maneuvers such asthose being conducted by the Navy’s aviation community. Air Corps and GeneralHeadquarters (GHQ) Air Force flying tests were driven by the desire to respond topublic relations problems, such as the need to demonstrate a long-range capabilityto President Franklin D. Roosevelt.74 Moreover, and—this is a critical point ofcomparison with the Navy’s approach to aviation—the organizational componentsof the Army’s aviation community did not interact to produce knowledge abouttactics, operations, and technology. The absence of sufficient funds to experimentand analyze is not an appropriate excuse for the performance of the AAC aviationcommunity (note Rear Admiral Blandy’s remarks above). Neither the AAC northe naval aviation community had adequate funding during the interwar period.However, the AAC was funded at an increasing percentage of overall spendingthroughout the interwar period. AAC leaders never thought that they were receiv-ing enough. The leadership of other Army branches thought that the AAC receivedtoo much funding support.75

The Army Air Corps leaders resisted interacting with such other Army combatbranches as the field artillery. Prominent military historian Edgar F. Raines, Jr.,has noted that Air Corps officers developed the technical requirements for artilleryobservation aircraft by reflecting on World War I experience—not by working withfield artillery in exercises and maneuvers. The prime Air Corps concern was speedfor survivability, and they designed observation aircraft that were too fast to allowspotters to identify targets and too large and heavy to operate close to artillery.76

The Navy’s General Board, composed of senior admirals, mediated claimsabout tactics and technology. Its demand for empirical proof and justifications forproposals made naval air power proponents devote resources, time, and thoughtto developing evidence. As noted above, the NWC conducted wargames thatpointed to possible uses of aircraft. Fleet exercises tested these ideas and gener-ated demands and requirements for new technology. The Bureau of Aeronauticsdeveloped requirements for new technology to exploit the tactical and operationalpossibilities revealed by the wargames and fleet maneuvers.77 These differentnaval organizations did not always agree, and their leaders did not necessarily

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like each other. Yet, their interaction—the tests, discussion, disagreements, andarguments—focused the discussion on empirical proof, and thereby produceduseful knowledge about tactics, operations, and technology.

The absence of such institutional relationships in the AAC hindered its abilityto create useful operational doctrine in advance of combat and to forecast tacti-cal problems and potential solutions. As a result of the absence of the interplaybetween vigorous analysis and systematic field experiments and maneuvers, noACTS officer writing about the future of air power anticipated the need for impor-tant ancillary technological developments necessitated by bombing campaigns.Consider, for example, whether long-range bombardment would have been pos-sible without the application of earth-moving equipment—developed for civiliancivil engineering tasks—to construct air fields. But there were no doctrinallydirected calls for improvements in such equipment. Other notorious failures ofdoctrinal analysis included (1) the opposition to the installation of wing bombshackles that could accommodate droppable fuel tanks, (2) the view that bomberscould defend themselves or evade enemy fighters if attacked, and (3) the relatedneglected development of long-range fighter escorts.78

The interwar failure of the Army aviation community to create rigorous ex-perimentally based analyses about the potential use of aircraft in combat continuedduring the early years of World War II combat in Europe. No congressional com-mittee, secretary of war, Army Chief of Staff, or chief of the Army Air Corpsdirected the Air Corps to create an air-ground doctrine through the interplay ofmaneuvers and vigorous argument.79 The failure to do so was a failure of strategicleadership. Senior U.S. airmen did not consider air-ground coordination to be anissue worthy of serious examination even after they observed Germans use aircraftwith ground forces to defeat France; they neither requested nor designed joint air-ground exercises of close air support.80 Senior Army officials, who also observedGerman air-ground coordination in France, were quite interested in the issue. InAugust 1940, Gen. George C. Marshall directed his G-3, an airman—Brig. Gen.Frank M. Andrews—to produce studies that could guide aircraft acquisition andtraining. Andrews’s response of September 26, 1940, contained five mission typesled by close air support. He also noted the AAC was inexperienced (by Europeanstandards) in close air support, and recommended that (1) air-ground tests be con-ducted soon and (2) a large number of ground troops and airmen be trained towork together.81

Meanwhile, Army Gen. Lesley J. McNair (commander of Army GroundForces) believed new operational concepts should be based on experience, thatis, on testing alternative ideas and maneuvers, and that ground troops and airmenshould work together in simulated maneuvers and operations. McNair, focusing onthe German style of ground warfare, began to remake the ground forces’ doctrineand structure.82 But while the Army expanded, the leaders of the Army Air Forces(AAF—created on June 20, 1941) devoted little attention to training with groundforces or to techniques implementing coordinated air and ground operations.83

Field Manual FM 100-15 Field Service Regulations, Larger Units, June 29, 1942,

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simply advocated the general principle of attaining air superiority within an entiretheater of operations.84 While the AAF procured B-25 Mitchell and B-26 Marauderand A-20 Havoc bombers for possible army support, neither air nor ground leadersadvanced clear statements about concepts that could implement effective joint air-ground operations. The April 1942 Aviation Support of Ground Force Field Manual31–35 did not require direct communication between a supported ground unitand the aircraft attempting to provide support. Not surprisingly, ground soldiers’requests for direct air support were usually unsatisfied.85

In early 1941, experiments on air-ground coordination were conducted, de-spite the opposition of AAF leaders, as part of the Louisiana Maneuvers. Piperand other light aircraft manufacturers offered to lend the Army aircraft to test forliaison and field artillery spotting. Piper Cubs were so effective in the maneu-vers that the Army rented the aircraft and civilian pilots for the GHQ maneuvers.Again, these light aircraft performed extremely well. As a result, a requirementwas written for six to ten Piper Cubs to be organic to each Army division and corpsartillery for artillery fire spotting and liaison. These aircraft would be piloted byArmy, not AAF pilots. (After World War II, these pilots advocated and pioneeredassault concepts. The AAF, despite its initial opposition to the concept, tried, butfailed, to bring the liaison aircraft under its control.) In spite of the peacetimeneed and opportunity to develop operational concepts—doctrine—for air-groundoperations, the AAF did not do so, nor were AAF leaders willing and eager exper-imenters. Consequently, operational concepts were developed in the field by trialand error. For example, the need for coordinated air-ground-naval operations in theMediterranean led to the development—without the aid of peacetime experimen-tation or prior doctrine—of procedures and concepts to coordinate air operationswith ground and naval units.86

Speaking of the arrival of the AAF in Europe, General Henry H. Arnoldobserved: “our program was still untested in combat, but we were sure that wewere right.” As the late military historian Walter Millis noted, “the event wasto prove that in many respects they were not nearly so right as they thought theywere.”87 Maj. Gen. Claire Chennault was considerably less diplomatic than Millis.Chennault observed that the same Air Corps officers who ignored the evidence heproduced about the use of fighters during the 1933 Fort Knox exercise, “were incontrol of the air force in 1942 and 1943 when hundreds of unprotected B-24’sand B-17’s were shot down over Europe.”88

Indeed, it is difficult to look at pre-World War II air power doctrine as muchmore than assertions unsupported by evidence from field tests, experiments, orearly war experience. During the interwar period, the AAC’s components didnot interact systematically to produce knowledge and there continued to be littlecoherent argument and debate among airmen, and between airmen and othermilitary thinkers, about the validity of air power doctrine, the supporting evidence,or tests to resolve the issues. Airmen reiterated doctrine, and made little effort toanalyze and test it.89

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CONCLUSION

In the 1960s and 1970s, an illiterate argument about the relative ease ofaccomplishing social tasks became quite common. It began with the question,“If we can go to the moon, why can’t we. . . ?” The thought pattern behind thisargument is now evident again in proposals for undefined innovative organizationsto exploit the potential of “transformational” or RMA-type technologies. Goingto the moon was a relatively simple task compared with the military organizationproblem we face. What is the difference? Going to the moon was very complex,but only along the single dimension of technological capabilities. To be sure,the engineering design problem was daunting. Yet, the design effort was setup in a very cooperative environment; a single new agency was given a cleargoal. Potential side-effects and concerns—for example, international relations—did not side-track NASA’s main task. Enormous resources were provided. Theorganization was able to draw upon production capabilities, technological know-how, and research capabilities of an entire society. The conditions of success wereclear: people would walk on the moon. No politician demanded a long-range planor “vision” document in advance of the task; and no one was asked to anticipatethe profound consequences of the moon voyages, for example, the new perspectivewe gained when we viewed the earth from space.

In contrast, since the mid-nineteenth century, national security decision mak-ing increasingly has required a multidimensional increase and application ofknowledge encompassing and integrating a wide range of fields. Yet, for much ofthis time, Army and Navy leadership approached their tasks, responsibilities, andduties unconscious of the imperative to organize themselves to learn. The militaryleadership of the nineteenth century—and the leadership of the correspondingcongressional committees—did not set up a permanent process to create and re-vise operational concepts and tactical principles for combat based on analysis ofcombat experience, exercises, maneuvers, and experiments.

With every passing year, engineers and scientists invented new and improvedweapons, high explosives, and related technologies that materially affected theconduct and outcome of combat. Once Orville and Wilbur Wright invented aflying machine in 1903, it was not long before aviation was applied to militaryproblems. The Army and Navy pursued two different approaches to developingknowledge to exploit military aviation.

There are two important comparisons between the Army and Navy interwaraviation communities to keep in mind as this book explores conditions to transformthe military for the twenty-first century: First, the interwar naval aviation commu-nity unconsciously created a multiorganizational system—an interactive relation-ship among various separate and independent agencies dealing with aviation thatfostered the development and evaluation of new technology and effective doctri-nal operational concepts. The interwar Army aviation community made assertionsabout air power but made little effort to test those assertions systematically. The

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Army aviation community, facing the same political and budgetary constraints thatconfronted its naval counterpart, did not have a multiorganizational system—aninteractive relationship among its components that tested ideas. As a consequence,it was unable to develop its technology, doctrine, and operational concepts as wellas its counterpart in the Navy.

Second, individuals played critical roles in the formation and continuingoperation of a multiorganizational system. Senior Navy and Air Corps officershad different tolerances for the necessary negotiation, mutual adjustment, andargument that are fundamental to the operation of a multiorganizational system.Perhaps unconsciously, they had varying appreciation for the corrective role of ex-perimentation and analysis in the invention of new operational concepts, the devel-opment of new technologies, and the perfection of human-machine-organizationsystems.

Gen. George C. Marshall, in this chapter’s opening quotation, recognized thatthe complexity of current human-machine-organization military systems makesintelligent experimentation essential to the prudent expenditure of resources andvictory in combat. Furthermore, he understood that it is far better to gain infor-mation and knowledge by letting theories die under intense peacetime criticism ofexercises, wargames, and analysis than to gain the same information sacrificingpeople in combat.

Chapter 4 will examine how the United States Marine Corps and the RoyalMarines addressed the problem of devising operational concepts and doctrine toconduct amphibious landings.


1. The military problem of choosing new weapons systems or inventingnew operational concepts is beyond the competence of any one person,group of persons, or of any one profession. The key problems concern(a) how the DoD is organized to identify and integrate disparate domainsof knowledge and (b) how to improve the interaction among professions,offices, and persons.

2. In an unplanned way, the Navy aviation community became organizedas a multiorganizational system that made smart choices about uncertainaviation technologies and operational concepts for carrier-based aviation.

3. The Navy’s multiorganizational system encompassed the Fleet, the Bureauof Aeronautics, the NWC, and the General Board. The General Board’sdeliberations, concerns, and questions created informal rules of analysisand evidence.

4. The Navy embarked on a self-evaluating course of inquiry regarding avia-tion despite the risk that it could lead to significant reductions in budgetarycommitments to battleships. No single Navy office acting on its own couldhave pursued carrier development to the detriment of battleships. Doubts

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remained about carrier aviation until after the onset of combat in WorldWar II.

5. No program of analysis developed in the AAC to review and analyzeoperational concepts, tactics, doctrine, or acquisition programs. Air leaderswere not willing experimenters; they reiterated doctrine and made littleeffort to analyze or test it.

6. The Army aviation community, facing the same political and budgetaryconstraints that confronted their naval counterpart, did not have a multior-ganizational system—an interactive relationship among components thattested ideas. Consequently, the Army aviation community was unable todevelop its technology, doctrine, and operational concepts as well as itsnaval counterpart.

7. Individuals play critical roles in the formation and continuing operationof a multiorganizational system. Senior Navy and Air Corps officers haddifferent tolerances for a multiorganizational system’s negotiation, mutualadjustment, and argument—and a different appreciation for the correctiverole of experimentation and analysis in the invention of new operationalconcepts and the development of new technologies.

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4

Learning to Conduct Amphibious Landings

Our Admirals and Generals felt that with courage and a brave face our troops couldland. It was true that the well-armed Turks were amply ready and could easily con-centrate against any army which could land and supply.

—John Masefield1

Until we have determined upon the force and organization necessary, and have trainedand equipped it (insofar as peace time training permits) so that it can actually executethe tasks foreseen with the maximum mobility, celerity and efficiency, the Corps willhave failed to properly perform its assigned duty. This training should complete andverify the type, number, and suitability of equipment necessary, all of which, naturally,in the beginning must be based upon the experiences gained by ourselves and othersin campaigns of the past.

—Col. Robert H. Dunlap (USMC)2

INTRODUCTION

This chapter reviews the experience of the U.S. Marine Corps and the British RoyalMarines in developing amphibious landing doctrine during the period betweenWorld War I and World War II. The conduct of amphibious assaults entails thesuccessful performance of interdependent and very complex organizational tasks.Individually and collectively these tasks have a high probability of failure.3 In re-viewing the development of amphibious tactics used in World War II, Marine CorpsLt. Gen. Holland M. (“Howlin’ Mad”) Smith wrote that such operations involved“the highest and most inclusive degree of coordination yet achieved.” Indeed,Smith argued, amphibious warfare’s “most lasting and significant contribution to

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learning to conduct amphibious landings 49

military science” was organizational, that is, in the “combination, cooperation,and coordination” of forces.4

The creation of amphibious doctrine and tactics, the organization of forces tocarry out the mission, and the acquisition of materiel to conduct operations alsoare interdependent and complex organizational undertakings with a similarly highprobability of failure. In the United States, the thinking and analysis to accomplishthese tasks were conducted in the context of rigorous criticism of error. Lt. Gen.Smith noted that amphibious doctrine progressed “by trial and error—many errorsin some cases—but each error was converted into a lesson applied to the nextoperation.”5

Some aspects of the Royal Marines’ situation and problems are not fullyanalogous to the U.S. Marine Corps (USMC): with a worldwide empire, Britishcivilian policymakers were less interested in seizing advanced bases, and theRoyal Marines (RM) was not closely aligned with the Royal Navy.6 Nonetheless,as described below, some senior Royal Navy officers were interested in the need toseize advanced bases. Their concerns were largely precluded by the organizationof the British national security establishment. Thus, the juxtaposition of the U.S.Marine Corps and the Royal Marines during the interwar period provides anexample that complements the analysis offered in Chapters 2 and 3: how militaryservices become organized to learn has a direct impact on the quality of thedoctrine produced and the equipment acquired.

A Historical Note

Amphibious landings and assaults have a long history as operations to sup-port empire building. Military historian Alfred Vagts discusses, among others,Greek, Roman, Saxon, Viking, and Norman amphibious operations.7 The famousBayeux Tapestry represents an amphibious operation, and was commissioned byArchbishop Odo (half-brother of William I the Conqueror), an eye witness toWilliam’s 1066 invasion of England.8 Lt. Gen. Victor H. Krulak and military his-torians Jeter A. Isely and Philip A. Crowl note that Swiss-French general AntoineHenri Jomini, in Precis de l’Arte de la Guerre (1838), laid out the broad principleson which all phases of an amphibious operation are based. These principles in-clude deceiving the enemy about the point of debarkation, selecting a beach withterrain and hydrographic conditions favorable to the attacker, employing navalguns to support attacking troops, landing artillery as soon as possible, seizingthe high ground commanding the landing area, building supplies ashore quickly,and transforming the operation from amphibious to land warfare.9 In 1861, RearAdm. S. P. Lee and Rear Adm. S. F. DuPont anticipated a future role for marinesin conducting amphibious landings, but their idea was not acted upon. Later, in1896, then Lt. Commander William F. Fullam proposed the marines be organizedfor expeditionary duty to support the fleet. This proposal, too, was not actedupon.10 Thus, although a great deal had been written about amphibious assaults

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by the 1920s, little had been accomplished to translate such musings into militaryorganizations, operational concepts, and equipment appropriate to the tasks.

Security Environment Constraints: Arms Control Treaties

During the period between World War I and World War II, two factors struc-tured the efforts of those developing a doctrine of amphibious assault upon hostileshores and the application of that doctrine during combat. The first factor was thesilence of international arms control agreements on amphibious assaults, whichpermitted the signatory nations to explore and develop this capability. On Decem-ber 14, 1920, Senator William E. Borah (R-Idaho) had introduced a resolution—later appended to the 1921 Naval Appropriations Bill—calling for an internationalconference to reduce naval armaments. In response, President Warren G. Hard-ing invited the principal powers to a conference on naval disarmament and otherquestions related to Pacific territories. On November 12, 1921, Secretary of StateCharles Evans Hughes convened the International Conference on Limitation ofArmament in Washington, DC, and proposed a comprehensive plan to limit navalforces. By February 1922, the delegates had created three interrelated treaties thatshaped naval policies of the United States, United Kingdom, and Japan, with eachnation’s military free to develop an amphibious assault doctrine and operationalconcept and equipment as it saw fit. Article XIX of the Naval Limitation Treaty(signed by United States, United Kingdom, Japan, France, and Italy) prohibitednew bases in Asia and the Western Pacific outside of carefully defined “homelands” and maintained coastal defenses and fleet repair and maintenance facilitieswithin the treaty area to 1921 levels. Applied to U.S. bases in the Philippinesand Guam, to British Hong Kong, and to Japanese Formosa and central Pacificislands, this treaty provision formalized Japan’s world lead in amphibious forces,doctrine, and technology—demonstrated dramatically by the 1914 attack onKiaochow (or Jiaozhou) along the Chinese southern coast of Shandung province—and enhanced the U.S. requirement for an amphibious assault capability in aconflict with Japan.11 To fight Japan, the U.S. Navy would have to steam westacross the Pacific Ocean while facing attacks from air and sea forces based on theJapanese island chains.

The second factor affecting the development of amphibious assault capabilityin the United States and Great Britain was the interaction of the separate agenciesthat dealt with amphibious operations. The key factor in whether and how theinterwar Army and Navy aviation communities learned about the employment ofaircraft in war was how the Services organized themselves to learn. Similarly, howthe USMC and the RM organized themselves to consider the task of amphibiouslandings was a significant factor in the resulting tactics, doctrine, materiel, andtraining. In examining the actions, interactions, and organizational arrangementsof each Service, the key point of comparison again is the existence or absenceof a multiorganizational system, that is, interaction among partially overlapping

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organizations. Before examining the British and American approaches to amphibi-ous operations, this chapter briefly reviews the Gallipoli Campaign, the seminalWorld War I experience relevant to the development of amphibious operationsdoctrine, training, and equipment.

GALLIPOLI

The Gallipoli campaign was one of the most disastrous Allied defeats ofWorld War I. The initial plan to open the Dardanelles Straits was developed byFirst Lord of the Admiralty Winston S. Churchill and First Sea Lord John Fisher,with the support of Secretary of State for War Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener. In1915, British and French leaders decided that if they could control the DardanellesStraits and Constantinople (now Istanbul), they would be able to ship supplies toRussia, their ally against Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and knockthe Ottoman Empire out of the war. In February 1915, a British naval fleet disabledsome small forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles. After this initial success, thefleet steamed north to a more strongly fortified Turkish area, where it was forcedto retreat.

British and French leaders then decided to conduct an amphibious landingoperation on the Gallipoli peninsula at two points, north and south, to defeat theTurks in the middle. However, during the initial landings, the Allied forces didnot surprise the Turks, who were alert and ready. Turkish forces were entrenchedin the heights of a rugged terrain unfavorable to the attacker, and naval bombard-ments could not remove them. Contrary to then-current intelligence estimates andassumptions of later historians, the Allies did not land against a feeble foe led byan ad hoc command arrangement. Instead, the Allies faced the “best-trained andbest-led infantry divisions in the Ottoman Army.”12 Furthermore, on the Alliedside, a high proportion of troops and officers were inexperienced.

Between April and June 1915, three bloody battles were fought, during whichthe Allies gained and lost several thousand yards. In August 1915, the Alliesattempted another assault at Suvla Bay, which also failed. Finally, in December1915, Allied leaders decided that the situation was hopeless and evacuated thetroops.

The failure of the Gallipoli campaign has been ascribed to several rea-sons, including inadequate preparation, shortage of munitions and troops, Turkishstrength, mistakes of various individuals, and the Allied misuse and nonuse oftheir combat, training, doctrine, procurement, and supply organizations. Britishmilitary leaders misunderstood the complexity and difficulty of connecting avail-able military means and technology with campaign goals. The performance ofthese military leaders led David Lloyd George to call them “the trained inexperts(for they were actually trained not to be expert in mastering the actualities of mod-ern warfare).”13 As time passed, British military leaders learned how to organizeartillery, coordinate combined arms and counterbattery fire, and conduct accurate

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naval gunfire and air observation. Yet, improved ability to conduct operationsoccurred too late in the Gallipoli campaign to be decisive.14

Military historian Timothy H. E. Travers illustrates civilian and military lead-ers’ failure to use their organizations competently by citing Brig. Gen. SimpsonBaikie of the 29 Division in Gallipoli who

Castigated the War Office Ordnance Department for artillery and shell shortages. . . . Hewas surprised to find that no one was paying attention to the consumption of artilleryshells; that no arrangement for the supply of shell from England had been made; andthat there was a serious deficiency in high-explosive shell.15

Such organizational shortfalls extended to all significant aspects of the cam-paign and to the interrelationships among them (e.g., the relationship between sup-ply of artillery shells and tactics).16 During training for the campaign, lip-servicewas paid to cooperation among various types of artillery and naval gunfire, but noeffective process for such cooperation was conceived. Actual wartime experiencewas necessary to force attention to the necessity of designing and implementing aprocess to coordinate artillery and naval gunfire.

Contemporary analysis of the Gallipoli campaign was stymied by five factors:disputed command relations between the Army and the Navy; conflict over theconduct of the operation between British commanders and the Australian-NewZealand expeditionary corps; fleet operational failures before the landing; conflictwith French forces assigned to the campaign;17 and a longstanding cultural prej-udice against empirical analysis of warfare. Combined, these factors added up toa failure by military leaders to conduct strategic analysis. Senior British officersdid little to gain an appreciation for the difficulty and complexity of interservicecoordination,18 or to try to understand where and how technology, such as theinternal combustion engine and rapid-fire weapons, fit into warfare. The viewsof General Sir Ian Hamilton illustrate this point. In the middle of the Gallipolicampaign, General Hamilton argued that “warfare was really quite simple, all thatis needed was higher courage and better morale than the Turks, and success wouldfollow.” On June 7, 1915, Hamilton told Kitchener, “there was no need for strategyor tactics, just courage.” He made the same argument to Churchill in mid-June.19

Small wonder that Prime Minister Lloyd George was frustrated by his military“trained inexperts.”

General Hamilton’s substitution of belief in the primacy of morale for ahard-headed causal analysis of combat operations is consistent with the attitudesexpressed by senior British officers years earlier. In June and July 1901 lecturesdelivered to the Royal United Service Institute, Jean de Bloch (the world’s firstscientific arms controller) had confronted the same attitude in response to hisanalysis of the impact of military technologies on tactics, operations, and na-tional economies and societies.20 From today’s perspective, the two chief causesof the Gallipoli campaign’s failure—as well as the fighting in Europe—wereorganizational: (1) the absence of specialized offices—coordinated by leaders and

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guided by formal processes and procedures—that could match activities (means)with goals (ends), and continually survey their environment for signs of trouble(conflicts between means and ends) and (2) lack of leadership recognition that theirorganizations (and organizational processes and procedures) were poorly matchedto their assigned tasks. British military and civilian leaders made no preparationto convert industry from civilian production to the production of war materiel,nor did they devise plans to expand the military.21 In other words, they simplydid not understand how to use their organizations, nor did they understand thatinattention to the relationship between organizational means and ends would havehigh political and military costs.

Following the Gallipoli fiasco, nonmilitary observers examined the campaign,but the experience was presented fatalistically rather than as a “laboratory for iden-tifying and correcting the operational flaws that might have swung the campaign tothe allies.”22 John Masefield’s Gallipoli was published in 1916 and written primar-ily for an American audience. Masefield, later the poet laureate of Great Britain,was a friend of General Sir Ian Hamilton. Many prominent European militarypundits concluded that amphibious assaults were infeasible, primarily becauseof improvements in aircraft, artillery, and machine guns. For example, militarywriter Alexander Kiralfy concluded that then-modern weapons and continentaltransportation systems would preclude amphibious operations on the Europeancoast, and Basil Liddell-Hart argued that land-based air power could defeat anamphibious assault.23 Needless to say, their analyses were flawed because theydidn’t grasp the use of experimentation to test operational ideas and the applicationof technologies.24

The British military’s analysis of Gallipoli did not produce conclusions orinferences that were more defensible than the civilians’. In 1919, the Admiraltycreated the Mitchell Committee to write a report on Gallipoli. The Historicalsection of the Committee of Imperial Defence published official histories of WorldWar I. They were intended to be accurate summaries of operations. However,neither Royal Navy nor Army officers liked Sir Julian Corbett’s 1923 accountof Gallipoli in Naval Operations, Vol. 3, or Brigadier-General Cecil Aspinall-Oglander’s 1929 Military Operations: Gallipoli.25 None of these studies providedthe starting point for further armchair analysis, or a program of experiments orexercises conceived to examine rigorously the Gallipoli experience.26

THE INTERWAR YEARS IN GREAT BRITAIN

Before 1914, there was little interest in the British military to form a forcewhose role would be to conduct amphibious assaults to seize, fortify, or protecttemporary naval bases. With the outbreak of World War I, the Royal Naval Divisionwas fielded quickly as an ad hoc division, and composed of three brigades, one ofwhich was the Royal Marines. The Royal Marines’ job was to conduct amphibiousoperations. With the end of the war, however, the Royal Naval Division disbanded,

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resulting in the loss of the division’s combat lessons, as no organization preservedand examined the division’s wartime experience.27

The total number of people engaged in defining and setting military and ac-quisition policy during the interwar years was smaller in Britain than in the UnitedStates. The number of senior civilian leaders was smaller, too. The Committee ofImperial Defence, established in 1904 by Prime Minister Arthur J. (later Lord)Balfour, was the primary British political and military planning organization dur-ing World War I and World War II.28 For most of the years between 1919 and1939, the Committee of Imperial Defence (presided over by the Prime Minister)had only five members. In 1922, Prime Minister David Lloyd George establishedthe Chiefs of Staff Committee that advised on air, sea, and land policy. The Chiefsof Staff primarily devoted themselves to planning and operational problems, andthe Inter-Services organization worked out the details.29

One implication of the small number of people involved in policymaking isthat there were fewer opportunities to identify and correct policy errors throughinteraction of policymakers and their staffs. The patterns set by the formal andinformal relations within British government limited access of a wide sector ofpeople to defense policymaking, and hence, limited opportunities for error iden-tification and correction. Most of the committee members were drawn from thearistocracy30—a sector generally unimpressed with the concept of merit appoint-ment and promotion.31 Government decisions were made by small groups of menwho depended on each others’ good opinions.32 As British political scientist Her-man Finer observed, “it was etiquette that each [chief of staff] should not criticizethe conceptions of the other.”33

The British military’s cultural prejudice against empirical analysis was rein-forced in the interwar years by the organizational relationship between the militaryestablishment and civilian government, which discouraged multiorganizational in-teractions. As military historian Allan R. Millett notes,

The British military establishment made it difficult for operational development of anysort to receive a fair hearing, and the Parliamentary form of government itself simplyreinforced innate military conservatism. Budgetary restraints provided a convenientexcuse for maintaining the status quo, but the British armed forces might have donefar more within the prison of fiscal restraint. . . . The Royal Navy and Army simplyassumed that amphibious operation presented too many problems for them to solve inpeacetime.34

A formal government rule that constrained planning and spending also re-inforced the ineffective organizational interaction between civilian and militaryplanners. In August 1919, Winston S. Churchill, as secretary of state for war,issued an order to the military services that they should plan and develop spendingestimates assuming that the British Empire would not be engaged in a major warduring the next ten years. Called the Ten Year Rule, this government order wasadopted as a planning guideline by the Committee of Imperial Defence (CID).35

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In 1928, Chancellor of the Exchequer Churchill successfully urged the Cabinet tokeep the rule in force until the Cabinet specifically acted to revoke it. Although theCabinet abandoned the Ten Year Rule in 1932, the spirit of the Rule was retainedas a limit on planning and spending. During the 1930s, senior civilian and militaryleaders failed to examine whether the Rule continued to be appropriate to the secu-rity environment in Europe. With hindsight, Lord Ismay recalled, “I am struck bythe extraordinary modesty—or even inadequacy—of the recommendations whichwe put forward from time to time to the CID. Economy had become so ingrainedin us that we asked for no increases which could not be justified in the greatestdetail.” Lord Hankey, secretary of the CID, also recalled how deeply the Ten YearRule was ingrained in decision making: “When I woke up in the morning, I’d say‘Good God, the Ten-Year Rule starts in again this morning.’”36

Although the British military still viewed the Germans as the main enemyin Europe, there were no Admiralty or War Office plans to conduct combinedamphibious landings in Europe against enemy opposition.37 Royal Navy leadersthought that amphibious operations were not as important as other programs,such as carrier aviation, the destroyer force, strengthening the battle line, or thesubmarine force.38

The existence of formal and informal obstacles to the development of newoperational concepts, however, did not translate into inactivity. In October 1919,a group of 169 officers drawn from the three service staff colleges met for a weekto examine the defense of Hong Kong and Singapore, and concluded that the1913 Manual of Combined Naval and Military Operations should be revised toincorporate World War I experiences, e.g., the early deployment of artillery, theneed for aircraft, and the use of tanks in the first wave to counter machine gun fire.A few months later, the Board of Admiralty (the Royal Navy’s highest committeefor policymaking), concerned about the coordination of forces complicated by theorganizational birth of the Royal Air Force and the adequacy of existing fixedbases, ordered naval staff to prepare a mobile base plan, and to devote specialattention to air operations. In 1920, Board of Admiralty officers, working throughthe Royal Navy Staff College, convinced the RAF and army to participate in ajoint committee—the Inter-Department Committee on Combined Operations—todevelop a new manual on joint operations. In June 1920, the joint committee metand defended the status quo by “asserting service independence and rejecting theimportance of preparations for opposed landings.”39

Some Board of Admiralty officers disagreed with the Inter-Department Com-mittee’s conclusions, and, in 1921, called for a review of amphibious operations byRoyal Navy Staff College officers. This effort resulted in The Manual of CombinedNaval Military and Air Force Operations—Provisional (completed in 1922). Aninterservice committee led by Army Staff College Commandant W. H. Andersonproduced a chapter on combined operations for the 1921 Army Field ServiceRegulations. In 1925, the Manual was revised to include a discussion of “lessonslearned” from the biannual staff colleges’ joint operations exercises. It is not clear,however, what useful knowledge appropriate for planning could be gleaned from

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the exercises held between 1925 and 1935. As military historian Donald Bittnerobserves, the exercises consisted largely of “time studies focusing on the unload-ing of ships, construction of piers, and the erection of guns; hill gradient and roadtests, and beach trafficability and landing craft load assessments.” The exerciseswere not tactical and did not relate individual tasks to each other in the context ofamphibious landings.40

Academic military analysis was isolated from other sectors of the military,and although problems were identified (e.g., tanks could not be landed on beaches,air cover was unreliable, and artillery cover was ineffective), no solutions wereexplored. The staff college discussions were not informed by exchanges withoperational forces or acquisition personnel, and local commanders initiated theonly field exercises conducted in the 1920s—the 1924 Bay of Bengal landing toprotect Singapore and the 1928 landing in Moray Firth (Scotland)—to providenew and different training. The next landing exercise, conducted in 1934, wasprimarily a communications test.41

Through the mid-1930s, senior Royal Marine officers did not try energeti-cally to make their organization become, in military historian Allan R. Millett’swords, “champions of amphibious operations.” In part, the Royal Marines werepreoccupied with other organizational issues, including force reductions and a re-organization to combine the Royal Marine Artillery with the Royal Marine LightInfantry. Senior Royal Marines were timid in advocating a changed role withinthe military establishment. In 1923, the Admiralty called for a review of thewartime role and training of the Royal Marines. Admiral Sir Charles Madden leda committee that examined the question for six months and issued a confidentialreport on August 20, 1924. The report reasserted the need for traditional marineduties, e.g., marines aboard warships for landing party and gun crew service. Thecommittee’s report also recommended that marines serving ashore train to seizeand defend temporary bases and to conduct amphibious raids upon enemy coastalbases. One background paper used for guidance by the Madden Committee was a1924 address made to the Naval War College by USMC Commandant, Maj. Gen.John A. Lejeune. The Madden Committee reported:

Many of the observations in Major-General Lejeune’s report apply forcibly to theBritish Corps. . . . We wish here to point out that there is much in the report to showthat the United States authorities have given considerable thought and attention to thefunctions, organisation, and training, of their Marine Corps, and have included in it aconsiderable body of men trained to operate with their fleet and to secure for it suitableoverseas bases, so essential in a Naval war conducted at some distance from bases inthe United States. We should be glad to see the value of the Royal Marine Corps forsimilar operations appreciated with equal clearness.42

Senior Navy and Marine officers agreed with the conclusions of the MaddenReport. Yet, Admiralty officers decided they could not ask for more money toincrease the size of the Royal Marines, and senior Royal Marines did not object to

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that decision. Senior leaders of the Royal Marines were content to “provide elitedetachments for ships and ad hoc battalions for colonial service,” and discourageddissent by lower level Marine officers about the limited institutional role for theRoyal Marines.43 It was not until 1927 that a limited responsibility for amphibiousoperations was given to the Royal Marines.44

The 1929 stock market crash coincided with a crisis within the services; therewere disagreements over the coordination of joint actions, equipment shortages,a renewed Japanese threat to Singapore, and budget cuts. In the 1930s, the RoyalMarines organized annual exercises “to test landing craft, vehicles, and equipmentneeded to disembark a heavy artillery force over an undefended beach or at afriendly port.” While there was an awareness of inadequacies of doctrine, proce-dures, and military technology, the scope and scale of these exercises providedlittle guidance for solving these problems in conducting an amphibious assault.45

The Admiralty received reports about developments in the United States and Japanon amphibious operations, and was anxious about its own ignorance and inexpe-rience in amphibious warfare. In 1936, the Royal Naval Staff College preparedanother revision to The Manual of Combined Operations. At about the same time,RN Captain Bertram Watson prepared a memorandum for the Admiralty that wasused to persuade the War Office and Air Ministry to support studying amphibi-ous operations. Military historian Kenneth J. Clifford called this memorandum“one of the most important papers in British combined-operation history.”46 TheDeputy Chiefs of Staff committee working on The Manual of Combined Opera-tions “concluded that joint operations needed a permanent institutional advocate,”and serious preparations to develop a capability to conduct amphibious assaultoperations began. The Manual was issued in 1938, and an institutional advocatefor joint operations was created.47 The Chiefs of Staff Committee establishedthe Inter-Service Training and Development Sub-Committee (responsible to theDeputy Chiefs of Staff) and the Inter-Services Training and Development Centre(ISTDC) at the Royal Marines base of Eastney Barracks, Portsmouth. The initialstaff was led by RN Captain L. E. H. Maund (later Rear-Admiral), and included astaff of army, RAF, and RM officers, and some clerks. The ISTDC had a budgetof £30,000 to conduct research on amphibious operations.

The following year, the ISTDC struggled to reconcile theoretical studies ofamphibious operations produced by the staff colleges and the Admiralty withthe development of prototype amphibious ships and landing craft. The ISTDCstudied the “relationship of airborne operations to landings and the special en-gineering requirements of defending and overcoming” defenses on beaches. Italso provided an educational perspective to the senior levels of British defenseplanning, the Chiefs of Staff Committee and the Committee of Imperial Defense.Captain Maund had seen the 1937 Japanese amphibious operations in Shanghai,and he advocated development of amphibious capability. Maund convinced Maj.Gen. Hastings Lionel Ismay (later Lord Ismay), secretary to Deputy Chiefs ofStaff Committee and Committee of Imperial Defense.48 Ismay saw that the RoyalMarines trailed the United States and Japan in the development of amphibious

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capability. Nevertheless, as late as November 1938, the Admiralty did not antici-pate the need for amphibious combined operations against particular targets, andwas not amenable to spending money to study the issue. No other high-rankingmember of the British military establishment proposed the need for an amphibi-ous assault force. By 1939, Brigadier Bernard L. Montgomery “was the onlysenior army officer who had commanded an amphibious landing force, his own9th Infantry brigade” in a July 1938 assault at Slapston Sands, near Dartmouth.49

Senior military officers continued to express doubts about the necessity ofamphibious operations. In 1937 and 1938, Air Vice Marshal Richard Peirse of theDeputy Chiefs of Staff argued that amphibious assaults against an enemy withoutair power were unnecessary, and impossible against an enemy with air power.Military historian David MacGregor observes that the British interwar amphibi-ous doctrine was based on “suspect assumptions”—e.g., the need for absolutesecrecy in planning, surprising the enemy, and small and simple operations. Therelationship among the ISTDC, staff colleges, and the Admiralty did not generatea demand for empirical experimentation. The analytic effort to create amphibiousdoctrine and to assert alternatives was conducted in isolation from empirical study.There appears to have been no program of experimental efforts or exercises to testthe assumptions of amphibious doctrine.50

British political leaders “provided no external connection within Parliamentfor amphibious operations,” and “the discipline of the party system and civiliancontrol made it difficult for military missionaries to sidestep the bureaucracy.”Winston S. Churchill did not have a leadership position in Parliament and noone took his place to ask questions about the status of peacetime preparationsfor warfare. A few specialized shipbuilders embraced amphibious warfare, but noother industrialists did. The Board of Trade, which regulated the merchant marine,rubber-stamped military views on transport requirements.51

The outbreak of war in September 1939, as military historian Correlli Barnettobserves, “led not to an expansion of the ISTDC but to its disbanding. After all,what with a new Western Front in France and the prospect of fleet battles and thebomber offensive, there was not going to be any such thing as [amphibious assault]operations—or so the service mandarins believed.”52 The ISTDC was revived inJanuary 1940, but it was not a central piece of any multiorganizational system thatguided exercises and experiments complemented by wargames or other analyses.

In summary, British military leaders directed little attention to amphibiouslandings until 1940.53 When World War II began, there was (1) little doctrine onamphibious operations, (2) only some prototype equipment and the start of pro-duction lines, (3) little available equipment, (4) poor estimates of the quantities ofneeded equipment, (5) some amphibious operations study groups, (6) no commandand staff organization to plan, and (7) no permanent organization to train troops orconduct operations.54 Lt. Gen. Howlin’ Mad Smith recalled that the Royal Marineswere “carefully restricted in latitude of opinion and activity.”55 In comparison tothe United States and Japan at the start of the war, the British had the greatest gapbetween forces and requirements. The war—and Winston Churchill’s demands

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as Prime Minister—finally galvanized British efforts and they “pioneered in thecreation of specialized techniques and equipment for landings, the creation of jointstaffs, and the orchestration of naval forces and landing forces.”56

The British experience of being unprepared to conduct amphibious operationsat the outbreak of World War II validated George C. Marshall’s dictum that “it isutterly impossible to improvise military organizations.”57 Marshall did not denythe possibility of rapid innovation to solve pressing operational problems or thatsuccessful military operations could be improvised. Instead, he was referring tothe need for detailed analysis, deep thought, and experimentation prior to creatingorganizations for the purpose of accomplishing new tasks.

The abrupt recognition of the need to conduct amphibious operations by thehighest level of the World War II British defense community temporarily relievedit of pressure to alter its structure—e.g., decision processes and sequencing ofdecisions, processes to empirically test planning assumptions, locations and num-bers of veto points, and redundancy and operation of communications channels.Yet, the kind of learning at which Churchill excelled—the ability to identify ap-propriate goals and to relate these to means—masked obstacles to learning withinthe British defense community. The British were able to invent, innovate, and de-velop new equipment and procedures, but they were less able to develop and learncorresponding new strategies and organizational routines. This history also showsthe great difficulty of improvising a process to learn when institutional arrange-ments and cultural habits discourage the kinds of interactions, communication,coordination, and thought necessary to learn to do new things. The presence of or-ganizations, interactions, communication, and thought necessary to do new thingsdoes not guarantee the successful development of complex capabilities such asamphibious operations. However, the absence of these almost guarantees failure.Having money to spend on equipment, exercises, experiments, and staff studygroups matters, but money is irrelevant when organizations are not constituted touse it effectively.

THE U.S. MARINE CORPS

In contrast to the Royal Marines, the relationships and interactions betweenU.S. Navy and Marine Corps organizations were more conducive to the creation ofknowledge about amphibious doctrine, logistical and organizational requirements,and specifications for materiel.

Early History

Between 1800 and 1934, the Marine Corps conducted about 180 landingoperations in various parts of the world to protect American lives and property.Prompted by the 1885 American intervention in Panama, some naval strategists

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began to advocate the construction of a battleship fleet large enough to defeat anenemy far from U.S. borders. Although not fully articulated, this strategy also re-quired overseas support bases, and the projection of forces ashore. Marine officersdid not engage their Navy counterparts in this discussion of possible amphibiousoperations.58 In the immediate years prior to the 1898 Spanish-American War,Marine and Navy officers wondered whether the Marines had any role with theNavy. Some planners at the Naval War College and in the Office of Naval In-telligence had other ideas. Navy Capt. Alfred Thayer Mahan, in his December1890 war plan against the United Kingdom, assigned the Marine Corps the task ofamphibious landings to seize a base of operations for the fleet. Later revisions tothese plans, however, did not refer to the Marine Corps in the context of advancedbases.59

Marines were inspired by the Marine 1st Battalion seizure against oppositionof a site for a naval base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, in June 1898. Such heroicsstimulated Marine officers to devote serious attention to the conduct of amphibi-ous operations. The Guantanamo Bay site was needed to support the U.S. Fleetblockading the Spanish squadron in the Santiago harbor. In effect, as military his-torian Jack Shulimson observes, “The Marines seized and protected an advancebase for the fleet blockading Santiago.” The conflict showed Navy officers thatthey could not depend on the Army to secure ground positions for naval tasks; theNavy would need its own ground force.60

By 1900, USMC functions relating to landing operations were delineated inthe “Advanced Base Concept,” which established a USMC role in the capture anddefense of overseas bases. However, over the next twenty-five years, the “seizingand defending” portion of the Advanced Base Concept actually referred onlyto unopposed landings.61 During the period between the Spanish-American Warand World War I, younger officers wanted to reappraise the USMC mission andrevamp the organization and officer education in USMC schools. In particular,these younger officers wanted to recast the USMC as ground troops in amphibiousoperations undertaken with the Navy.62 In 1900, the General Board assigned theMarine Corps the advance base mission, providing the Marine Corps with a clearrole.63 This role would form the basis of future amphibious operations doctrine.Just as importantly, the continuing interest in—and advocacy of—amphibiousoperations by admirals serving on the General Board would stimulate and guideanalyses of island-hopping strategy and amphibious operations conducted at theNaval War College, the Marine Corps, and the Navy.64

The failure of the 1915 Gallipoli operation further stimulated USMC interestin amphibious operations.65 About a year later, the Marine Corps Gazette wasfounded, which provided a forum to discuss future Marine Corps missions andjoint operations with the Navy in performing amphibious landings.66 A key factorin developing a USMC capability to conduct amphibious landings was its assignedrole in War Plan Orange to seize and hold Japanese-occupied islands in order toconvert them to advanced bases for the Navy, or at least to neutralize them asenemy strongholds. The USMC, in order to retain a viable role in U.S. national

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security, was thus obligated to develop the means to implement the war plan.67

Navy and marine planners expected that the Japanese would fight tenaciously tohold their islands, and the effort to displace them would require specially trainedand integrated ground, sea, and air forces.

The Interwar Years in the United States

By the beginning of the 1920s, personnel in four Navy Department organiza-tions were studying amphibious operations: the Office of the CNO, General Board,Naval War College (NWC), and USMC Commandant. Of these four organizations,amphibious assault was a specialization critical to the continued organizationalexistence only to the Marine Corps, but amphibious assault was not a listed duty inthe 1920 U.S. Navy Regulations.68 The situation was precarious, in Howlin’ MadSmith’s words, “no special troops existed which had been trained for [amphibiousassault]. Not a single boat in the naval service was equipped for putting troopsashore and retracting under its own power.”69 Nevertheless, Marine Corps leaderssaw that a specialized wartime mission would make the Corps fully distinct fromthe Army and provide a justification useful to Congressional supporters seekingto prevent the Army from absorbing the Corps.70

In analyzing the Pacific region security environment, Marine CommandantMaj. Gen. John A. Lejeune argued that the Navy’s logistical need for bases andsupplies required a Marine Corps capability to seize, fortify, and hold bases. In1920, Lejeune ordered his friend and long-time advocate of offensive amphibiousoperations, Maj. Earl “Pete” H. Ellis, to investigate the requirements of amphibi-ous landings and operations across the central Pacific. As an NWC student in1912–1913, Ellis participated in drafting war plans against Japan.71 In his mem-oir, Gen. Alexander A. Vandegrift noted that Lejeune’s interest in amphibiousoperations was stimulated by the Versailles Treaty, which mandated formerlyGerman-held islands in the Pacific to Japan. Ellis wrote the 30,000-word Opera-tions Plan 712, Advanced Base Force Operations in Micronesia, in seven months.Lejeune endorsed the plan on July 23, 1921. Ellis wrote:

In order to impose our will upon Japan, it will be necessary for us to project ourfleet and land forces across the Pacific and wage war in Japanese waters. To ef-fect this requires that we have sufficient bases to support the fleet, both during itsprojecting and afterwards. As the matter stands at present, we cannot count uponthe use of any bases west of Hawaii except those which we may seize from theenemy after the opening of hostilities. Moreover, the continued occupation of theMarshall, Caroline, and Pelew [Palau] Islands by the Japanese (now holding themunder mandate from the League of Nations) invests them with a series of emergencybases flanking any line of communications across the Pacific throughout a distanceof 2,300 miles. The reduction and occupation of these islands and the establishmentof the necessary bases therein, as a preliminary phase of the hostilities, is practicallyimperative.72

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According to Ellis, amphibious assaults required much peacetime training,meticulous planning, and careful tactical and logistical organization.73 AdvancedBase Force Operations in Micronesia became the center of Marine Corps strategicplans for a Pacific war by stimulating thinking about amphibious operations,field exercises, officer education, and equipment development at the Marine CorpsSchools at Quantico. The plan also formed the basis for War Plan Orange approvedin 1924 by the Joint Board of the Army and Navy.74 Military historian AllanR. Millett observes that Lejeune’s commitment to amphibious operations was arefinement of his own and previous commandants’ views—including Maj. Gen.George Barnett (commandant, 1914–1920) and Maj. Gen. John H. Russell, Jr.(commandant, 1934–1936)—that the Marine Corps should take the organizationallead to seize advanced naval bases in future naval campaigns.75

Comprehensive studies to develop doctrine and amphibious operations tech-niques began in 1921.76 In that year, Col. Robert H. Dunlap’s detailed examinationof the Gallipoli campaign was published in the Marine Corps Gazette. Dunlap—an amphibious planner on Rear Adm. William S. Sims’s NWC staff and a friendof Maj. Pete Ellis—argued that the Gallipoli campaign involved many of theproblems Marines would face in an amphibious assault, including:

(a) Landing on open beaches under fire requiring exact and careful staff work by acomposite staff of Army and Naval officers; (b) continued supply by the Navy of theforces so landed; (c) evacuation of the wounded, requiring close cooperation betweenthe Army and Navy; (d) coordination of naval gunfire with the movement of forces onshore; [and] (e) the lessons incident to night marches, combat, and supply.77

Dunlap’s analysis pinpoints numerous British planning and organizationalerrors at Gallipoli, such as insufficient attention to the effects of weather andtides in the opening stages of the campaign, too great attention to secrecy thatprevented necessary coordination of forces, and the need for careful planning in“the packing of equipment, the suitability of which must be determined by studyand observation of its use while in training.” Dunlap discussed the requirement foreffective ground transportation and a “proper howitzer” after landing, adding thatif such equipment is not available when a conflict begins, it is the Marines’ ownfault. He also discussed the necessity of coordination of aviation to support landingforces, and close cooperation—in today’s terms, joint planning and execution—between the USMC and the Navy in conducting landings.78

Similar analyses were conducted and presented to a wider audience in NavalInstitute Proceedings, Navy in-service papers, and lectures at the NWC. In par-ticular, during the 1920s, officers at the NWC devoted a great deal of attentionto the Gallipoli campaign. In 1926, the Naval Institute published an essay onamphibious doctrine by Capt. W. D. Puleston, which offered new options for ad-vocates of amphibious operations.79 Marine officers attended the NWC, Army WarCollege, and Army Command and General Staff College, where they proselytizedfor amphibious operations with Army and Navy officers.80

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In the meantime, diplomats from leading nations were crafting the naval armslimitation treaties described earlier in this chapter. The General Board opposedthe 1922 Naval Limitation Treaty’s nonfortification of bases provision. On Febru-ary 11, 1922, Major General Lejeune wrote to the General Board on the topic of“Future Policy for the Marine Corps as Influenced by the Conference on Limita-tion of Armament.” Lejeune argued that “the primary war mission of the MarineCorps is to supply a mobile force to accompany the Fleet for operations on shorein support of the Fleet.”81 The development of an amphibious capability to sup-port the Navy and continue as part of the Navy was a theme to which MarineCommandant Lejeune returned at every opportunity.82

Senior Marine Corps and Navy officers recognized the need to test conceptsand tactics for amphibious operations both in their classrooms and in field exer-cises. The 1923–1924 Fleet maneuvers were the largest conducted to that date.Two of the four problems examined during these maneuvers included the Marines:Problem Number 3 involved a forced passage of the Panama Canal by the PacificFleet against the Atlantic Fleet, and an expeditionary force of Marines operatingin the Caribbean. Problem Number 4 was more directly related to amphibious as-saults. In this exercise, conducted on Culebra Island (Puerto Rico), 1,750 Marinesbecame part of the Pacific Fleet, and 1,550 Marines, artillery, and special troopswith advance base material became part of the Atlantic Fleet. The Pacific Fleettried to seize a base in the northern islands of the Atlantic Fleet’s territory, and toestablish a blockade of the Atlantic Fleet’s home territory.

The maneuvers lasted almost one month; they involved a good deal of freeplay, and were distinguished by an empirical attitude and approach to the work athand. Although some of the Marines’ critics argued that the 1924 maneuvers werea failure, over the next fifteen years, the Marines set about correcting the errorsthey discovered. This empirical approach—identifying real problems from partic-ipation in and observations of action and testing practical solutions—paralleledthe U.S. Navy’s exploration of carrier-based aviation, and stands in marked con-trast to the British resistance to a program of empirical analysis. For example,the maneuvers revealed the need to distinguish friendly from enemy aircraft. Inresponse, the maneuver participants developed a coded challenge system and thencreated a telephone link between observation posts and antiaircraft guns.

Marine Col. Dion Williams, a participant in the maneuvers, noted that“throughout [Problem Number 4 on Culebra] every effort was made to havethe conditions as realistic as possible.” As with the carrier aviation maneu-vers, the effort to achieve realism was accompanied by intense disagreementsabout interpretive rules to judge and evaluate damage and other effects.83 SeniorMarine officers reviewed these exercises, supported the commitment to realism,and discussed the weaknesses revealed. For example, Marine Corps CommandantLejeune noted that training must involve “actual embarkation and disembarkationunder conditions as near actual war conditions as possible. This enables us to learnby experience how to handle our equipment and at the same time gives the Navyan opportunity to become familiar with the needs of the expeditionary force.”84

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The 1924 maneuvers involved the first landing problem in which 3,300 per-sonnel fought at Culebra (Puerto Rico) and the Canal Zone. Admiral RobertE. Coontz, commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet, and later Chief of Naval Opera-tions, observed “The participation of the Marine Corps Expeditionary Force withthe Fleet in the winter maneuvers of 1924 afforded the first real opportunity fordetermining the value of such a force to the Fleet.”85

The 1925 joint maneuvers involved 2,500 Marines attacking army forces atOahu, Hawaii. This exercise “emphasized the need for extensive study of . . . forcedlandings. Previous landing exercises had been conducted on a small scale, andvaluable lessons learned, but the broad importance of this type of operation hadnever been clearly demonstrated as in the exercise of 1925.”86

In 1927, the deployment of Marines to Nicaragua and China ended the exer-cises (exercises would be resumed in 1932 in Hawaii). Nevertheless, the maneuversheld during the 1920s identified tactical and materiel shortcomings, including theproblems of disembarking troops from transports to landing boats, moving artilleryand tanks ashore to help breach beach defenses, and conducting effective navalgunfire, close air support, and assault engineering.87 These problems were ad-dressed in professional journals, in implementing training for landing operations,and in the formulation of written doctrine during the early 1930s. With respectto training, for example, in 1924–1925, advanced students at the Marine CorpsSchools devoted only two hours to landing operations. By 1927, the curriculumincluded more than 100 hours of instruction about landing operations.88

Development of Written Doctrine

Although maneuvers and exercises were called off in 1927, investigation ofamphibious operations continued.89 Lt. Gen. Smith noted that the analyses ofGallipoli and of the broad task of amphibious assault were animated by the effortto “dissect every failure and locate the weak spots and failure-factors.”90 In 1927,the NWC and the Marine Corps Schools at Quantico began studying landingoperations.91 Also, in 1927, the Joint Army and Navy Board issued Joint Actionof the Army and Navy. The USMC retained its traditional missions (e.g., ship dutyand service within the Navy) in this manual, but also was assigned responsibilityfor “land operations in support of the fleet for the initial seizure and defense ofadvanced bases and for such limited auxiliary land operations as are essential tothe prosecution of the naval campaign.”92

The development of amphibious doctrine and capability was difficult anduncertain. Marine units assigned to duties in China and Nicaragua, and competitionwith other budget priorities, removed exercise and amphibious units from the Fleet,and reduced Marine enlisted strength and ability to support the Fleet. In 1931,responding to roles and missions competition with the Army, the General Boardasked Marine Commandant Ben H. Fuller to justify and rank USMC missions.Fuller assigned highest priority to seizing and defending naval bases. The General

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Board, CNO William V. Pratt, and the Office of the Chief of Naval OperationsWar Plans Division supported Fuller’s priority.93

In 1931, the Marine Corps Schools began work on a textbook of amphibiousoperations. In this process, individual marines were assigned the task of describingthe schedule of activities in a landing operation. These lists were reviewed bymore senior officers. According to military historians Jeter A. Isley and PhilipA. Crowl, an unnamed Marine captain who led the aviation committee noted thegroup developing the textbook “approached its subject . . . about the same asevery other committee, with a lantern in one hand and a candle in the other—butneither of these seemed to throw much light on the subject, so we wound up byhiding our lights under a bushel and using the imagination that God gave us touse for this particular purpose.”94 Isley and Crowl’s description makes it seemthat the Marines working on the textbook came to their subject with a tabularasa. However, for years various military theorists had provided commentary onamphibious operations and had proposed lists of activities, schedules of tasks,equipment and supplies, and tactics. In 1929, Maj. Gen. Eli K. Cole providedsuch a list to the readers of the U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings. Cole’s analysiswas serious and comprehensive. Perhaps to demonstrate the gravity of the subject,his article began with the Latin motto: Aut vincere aut mort (“Either conqueror die”).95 In 1931, E. W. Broadbent noted the deficiencies of naval gunfire andammunition to support amphibious operations, and added providing medical careto the Navy’s responsibilities during amphibious operations.96

In conjunction with the intellectual and practical work on amphibious as-sault, in 1933, Army Chief of Staff Gen. Douglas MacArthur proposed that theMarine Corps should be transferred to the Army. MacArthur’s proposal increasedthe urgency with which senior Marine officers viewed the need to more fullydevelop the doctrine for seizing forward bases.97 In September 1933, Brig. Gen.James C. Breckinridge, the head of the Marine Corps Schools, recommended toCommandant Fuller that classes be cancelled for the coming academic year, sothat students and instructors could concentrate full time on developing doctrinefor amphibious operations. Assistant Commandant Brig. Gen. John J. Russell, Jr.,and Breckinridge maintained frequent contact over the ensuing months. In March1934, Russell became Marine Corps commandant. Meanwhile, suggestions andanalyses of the developing doctrine came from widely dispersed sources. A no-table piece of work from a young Navy officer, H. K. Hewitt (later Admiral), whohad served as Fleet gunnery officer, provided a detailed assessment of gunfiresupport for landings. One participant later wrote that Hewitt’s analysis, “for thefirst time (of record) explored the subject [of gunfire support] that became so vitalto the success of landing Ops in WWII.”98

Col. Ellis Bell Miller was placed in charge of the effort to develop amphibiousdoctrine. By spring 1934, the effort had evolved into the Tentative Manual forLanding Operations, a book of several hundred pages examining amphibiousoperations.99 Prior to the release of The Tentative Manual, naval planners hadnot seriously considered that seized bases would permit strategic bombing of

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the enemy homeland.100 With the release of The Tentative Manual, for the firsttime, the entire course of instruction at the Marine Corps Schools was based onMarine missions and tasks. The Office of the CNO and the Fleet reviewed theTentative Manual before it was adopted by the Navy. The Manual was adoptedas a text in the Marine Corps Schools for the 1934–1935 term. Revisions to theTentative Manual continued through 1935, when, as Millett observes, “the Manualbecame the authoritative guide within the Navy Department for future amphibiousexercises and for research and development.” Russell approved the establishmentof a board to revise amphibious doctrine based on input from those using it to trainand to teach.101

Parallel to writing the Tentative Manual, overseas Marine brigades returnedto the United States, the “Expeditionary Force” was renamed the “Fleet MarineForce” by the secretary of the Navy, following a recommendation by MarineCommandant Maj. Gen. Ben H. Fuller, and preparations began for the resumptionof Fleet landing exercises. The designers of the Fleet Marine Force organizationwanted to integrate ground and air marine forces with the fleet.102

Resumption of Landing Exercises

In 1932, landing exercises were held in the Hawaiian Islands and at SanClemente Island (off the California coast). Millett observes that the Fleet LandingExercises (FLEXs) were used to refine “the mobilization concepts and trainingembodied in Marine Corps Contributory Plan, C-2, Orange, reviewed and revisedeach year in the 1930s.”103 In 1935, annual FLEXs began on Culebra, and wereheld on Culebra through 1940. Some of the exercises included naval gunfire andaviation support.104 The 1935 and 1936 FLEXs were limited to three battalions(two infantry and a mixed artillery) transported by two old battleships and shipsof the Navy’s Latin America constabulary, the Special Service Squadron. In themeantime, in 1936, Japan repudiated the Washington Conference Treaties, and thefollowing year began a major naval rearmament program and its war to dominateChina. In 1937, the United States and Great Britain also began naval rearmamentprograms.

In 1937, FLEX-3 was held off the Southern California coast. The Navy in-vited the Army to participate in the exercise. The Army provided an expeditionarybrigade and the USMC sent 2,500 marines. The Navy adopted the Fleet TrainingPublication 167 in 1938, which “became the official doctrine for landing oper-ations,” and reflected the growing consensus that amphibious assaults would bepossible, but difficult.105 From January through March 1938, FLEX-4 was held inPuerto Rico and involved about 2,500 marines and an army expeditionary brigade(again invited by the Navy).106 The exercises conducted in 1939 (FLEX-5) and1940 (FLEX-6), led by Brig. Gen. Holland M. Smith, drew inspiration from theincreasing world anxieties about looming war. FLEX-6 was the most realistic

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exercise attempted to date, and the first exercise in which the Fleet Marine Force’s1st Brigade was outfitted like a wartime expeditionary force in equipment andnumbers of personnel. One landing was conducted at night from rubber boats.Submarines were used for reconnaissance and to land scouts. Underwater de-fenses were built to obstruct access to beaches. Training emphasized fire controland the use of different types of ammunition against expected targets.107 Whilethese fleet exercises dealt with some problems relevant to amphibious operations,the biggest emphasis was on Marine and Navy supply and equipment shortfalls, in-cluding inadequacies in landing craft, gunnery, antisubmarine warfare, and aerialcombat.108 Nevertheless, in conjunction with various analyses provided by theMarine Corps Schools and the NWC, these exercises were used to devise tactical,operational, and materiel solutions to the “problem of effecting a frontal assaulton a defended shoreline. . . . Planning for the worst and the consideration of alleventualities resulted in the development of weapons, equipment and techniquesto meet them.”109

In August 1941, FLEX-7 marked the debut of the Higgins boat. Maj. Gen.Smith’s maneuver with about 17,000 soldiers and marines was the last exer-cise before the United States would enter World War II. Held at New River,North Carolina, FLEX-7 was more complex than any previous maneuver, and in-volved parachute operations, night landings, close air support, and the movementacross beaches of lots of equipment and supplies. Smith’s post-maneuver reportemphasized shortcomings and made thirty-eight practical recommendations forconducting amphibious landings.110

CONCLUSION

At first glance it seems unfair to compare the USMC with the Royal Marines.The Royal Marines were not responsible for Gallipoli, and did not have a roleanalogous to the USMC’s role within the USN. British military planners concen-trated on a war against Germany on the European continent. Modernization ofthe Royal Navy was secondary to the problem of preparing for war in Europe.Within the Royal Navy, preparing to conduct amphibious operations was not highon the list of spending priorities. Yet, the British also faced strategic problemsthat mandated some consideration of amphibious operations. As Millett argues,the British history of naval campaigns, imperial defense, joint campaigns, anddisengagement from continental alliances justified the existence of an amphibiousassault force.111

The task of developing doctrine and equipment with which to conduct am-phibious operations was difficult for both the U.S. Marine Corps and the RoyalMarines. Funding was always an issue, but more importantly, the interactionsguiding and constraining the work of the Marine Corps and the Royal Marineswere critical to the effective discharge of developing doctrine and equipment.

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The ability to experiment with techniques, tactics, and equipment was vitalin order to guide the articulation of doctrine and new requirements. The U.S.Marine Corps and Navy experimented with the modification of army weapons toprotect against saltwater corrosion and foreign matter (e.g., sand), day and nightlandings, feints, subsidiary landings, and broad-front attacks, smoke screens, airand naval gun support, concentrated assaults and dispersed infiltration, and thefiring of all sorts of weapons from landing craft. The Royal Marines were farless disposed to systematic experimentation with equipment during the 1920s and1930s.

The success of the U.S. Marine Corps in creating doctrine and forces foramphibious operations is largely a function of the interaction among the GeneralBoard, NWC, Office of the Commandant, Marine Corps Schools, and the Fleetas they responded to political and strategic problems. The Marine Corps Schools,for example, responded to the challenge of devising doctrine and providing ajustification to prevent the Army from incorporating the Marine Corps (as aneconomy measure) by making a significant commitment to doctrine developmentand historical analysis.112 The total hours of instruction on amphibious operationsincreased from about 25 percent of the curriculum in the mid-1920s to about60 percent mid-1930s.113 The work of the General Board, NWC, Office of theCommandant, Marine Corps Schools, and the Fleet during the interwar period wasdriven largely by interaction and discussion of problems and solutions. Operationalproblems and materiel shortcomings identified in the early 1920s became clearerthrough interaction over time.114 Indeed, the interaction among the General Board,NWC, Marine Corps Schools, Fleet, and Office of the Commandant became self-organizing: the ideas examined during exercises and maneuvers—informationcreated by experience—corrected and refined ideas generated by historical analysisand doctrine development, and provided the basis for further questioning andanalysis.

This kind of self-correcting behavior of organizations concerned with am-phibious operations avoided a common failure of organizations—they do not learnwell from experience. The late political scientist Aaron Wildavsky argued that theneeds of the organization and the people within it conflict with the “self-evaluation”mandate to monitor activities continuously in an intellectually honest way and tochange policies when they are ineffective. Wildavsky correctly identified factorsthat inhibit learning from experience in an organization in which there is littlejurisdictional overlap (such as, Who will evaluate and who will administer? Howwill power be divided between administrators and evaluators? Who will bear thecosts of change? Can authority be given to evaluators and blame given to admin-istrators? How may administrators be convinced to gather information that mighthelp others—i.e., evaluators—but can only harm them?). The interaction among aset of organizations having partial overlap of jurisdiction allows the establishmentof “self-correcting organizations” on the basis of rational criticism, as describedby eminent political scientist Martin Landau. The seeming contradiction betweenthe two is resolved at the level of multiorganizational systems.115 The way the

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U.S. Marine Corps approached the development of amphibious doctrine and theacquisition of materiel to conduct the mission is quite similar to that displayed byU.S. Navy organizations concerned with carrier-based aviation. Thus, the inter-war “golden age” of military policy analysis exemplified by carrier aviation alsoincludes the development of the doctrine of amphibious operations.116

The failure of the Royal Marines to develop an analogous capability or doc-trine is a result of an analogous absence of a multiorganizational system. As Millettnotes, the consideration of amphibious operations in the United States was far lessorganizationally constrained than in Great Britain (and in Japan). In the UnitedStates, articles on amphibious operations were published in service journals andoccasionally in public magazines. Members of Congress followed discussion inhearings and in the discussion of annual reports of the service secretaries.117 InBritain, in contrast, senior military leaders made policy under an organizationalsystem that did not acknowledge the requirement of basing policy upon a foun-dation of rational criticism. Individual senior officers may have understood thelimits of their knowledge about the requirement for, and mechanics of, amphibi-ous assaults—but they did little to develop a program to create the empiricalknowledge necessary to examine and evaluate their assumptions.

In 1946, Lt. Gen. Holland M. Smith wrote,

The current naval doctrine on landing operations, which was published prior to ourfirst landings in 1942 and without the benefit of the combat experience of this war,was based on long consideration of the problems and the limited experience gained inmaneuvers. It has proved remarkably sound. The organization, planning, tactics, andtechniques prescribed provide largely satisfactory answers. The doctrinal solutionshave been revised and improved as technical developments have met the demands ofthe tactical requirements.118

This view was reiterated a few years later by Gen. Alexander A. Vandegrift,who remarked that the Marine Corps’ greatest contribution to World War II victorywas doctrinal; noting “the fact that the basic amphibious doctrines which carriedAllied troops over every beachhead of World War II had been largely shaped—often in the face of uninterested or doubting military orthodoxy—by U.S. Marines,and mainly between 1922 and 1935.”119

The following chapter will examine the evolving Navy air defense program,Cooperative Engagement Capability, from the perspective of how organizationsare interacting to develop the technology.


1. How military services organize to learn, and to accumulate and retrieveknowledge, has a direct impact on the quality of doctrine and the equipmentacquired.

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2. The British military cultural prejudice against empirical analysis was rein-forced in the interwar years by the relationship between the military estab-lishment and civilian government, which discouraged multiorganizationalinteraction. Furthermore, within the military, the relationship between theInter-services Training and Development Centre, the staff colleges, andthe Admiralty did not generate a demand for experimentation.

3. Between 1925 and 1935, British naval-army amphibious exercises werenot tactical; they consisted largely of time studies of unloading ships, theerection of guns, and construction of piers; beach trafficability and landingcraft load assessments.

4. British military academic analysis was isolated from other sectors of themilitary; staff college discussions were not informed by exchanges withoperational forces or acquisition personnel. No organization explored em-pirical solutions to amphibious problems, nor was there an experimentalor exercise program to test doctrinal assumptions.

5. Royal Marine officers did not make the strategic choice to make their orga-nization the champion of amphibious operations. British military leadersdirected little attention to the problem of amphibious warfare until 1940.When they did begin to think about amphibious landings, in comparisonto the Americans and Japanese, the British faced the greatest gap betweenforces and requirements.

6. In the United States, fleet maneuvers were held in the 1920s to exam-ine amphibious operations. The work was distinguished by an empiricalapproach to the problems of creating doctrine, inventing tactics, and ac-quiring equipment. Marine and naval officers identified real problemsfrom participating in and observing action, and tested practical solutions,including to day and night landings, broad-front attacks, air and naval gunsupport.

7. The creation of Marine doctrine and forces for amphibious operations wasdriven by the interaction and communication on problems and solutionsin a multiorganizational system composed of the General Board, NWC,Office of the Commandant, Marine Corps Schools, and the Fleet. Opera-tional problems and materiel shortcomings identified in the 1920s becameclearer through interaction over time.

8. The interaction among the General Board, NWC, Office of the Comman-dant, Marine Corps Schools, and the Fleet became self-organizing: theideas examined during exercises and maneuvers—information created byexperience—corrected and refined ideas generated by historical analysisand doctrine development, and provided the basis for further questioningand analysis.

9. The failure of the Royal Marines to develop an analogous amphibiousoperational capability or doctrine is a result of an analogous absence of amultiorganizational system.

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5

Cooperative Engagement Capability: AMultiorganizational Collaboration

By April 1951, the Eighth Army [led by General Matthew Ridgway] had again provedErwin Rommel’s assertion that American troops knew less but learned faster thanany fighting men he had opposed. . . . The tragedy of American arms, however, is thathaving an imperfect sense of history, American[s] sometimes forget as quickly as theylearn.

—T. R. Fehrenbach1

We stumbled along from one error to another while the enemy grew wise, profited byhis wisdom, and advanced until our [Japanese] efforts at Guadalcanal reached theirunquestionable and inevitable end—in failure.

—Vice Admiral Raizo Tanaka2

INTRODUCTION

The above quotations refer not only to the ability of combat organizations to learnfrom experience and under fire, but to the complexity of organizational learn-ing. Learning is tied inextricably to forgetting: in order to mitigate forgetting,a conscious effort must be made to encode, store, and to retrieve experience.Learning from experience is a process that mixes memory and inferences frominformation with experience—both personal and that of others. Yet, the interactionof many people—subject to different experiences, vagaries of memory, person-nel turnover, inter- and intra-office conflict and disagreements, and geographicdistribution—make extracting lessons from experience and retaining them a chal-lenging organizational task under the best of circumstances.

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Posturing an organization to learn is a strategic choice that partially de-pends on analogous choices by other organizational leaders. The leadership ofa learning organization must be able to carry out three types of tasks: antic-ipate the shape of an uncertain future, generate options for acting effectivelyin changed environments, and implement new plans quickly.3 A leader’s suc-cess in positioning his organization to learn also depends on the organiza-tion’s relationships with other organizations that have overlapping tasks andmissions. In earlier chapters, the most propitious condition for successful in-novation and transformation of military capability arose in conjunction withthe unplanned development of effective multiorganizational interaction. At firstglance, it appears that the development of the U.S. Navy’s Cooperative Engage-ment Capability (CEC) program displays some features of a multiorganizationalsystem.

THE COOPERATIVE ENGAGEMENT CAPABILITY PROGRAM

In 1999, the Navy’s theater air and missile defense program, CooperativeEngagement Capability (CEC), was designated a Department of Defense (DoD)“Category 1D” program, which entails the expenditure of more than $2 billiondollars (in constant FY1996 dollars) for research and development. Yet, for aprogram of this size and potential importance, little is known about the way inwhich the program has been evaluated or assessed by senior Navy military andcivilian officials. A search of Center for Naval Analyses reports on CEC revealsonly a few items, and none of these concern how the Navy might figure out newoperational concepts for CEC.4 Nor has the Naval Historical Center—the Navy’sofficial history office—prepared studies of the program.5 A search of the U.S.Government Accountability Office Web site, likewise, revealed no reviews dedi-cated to the CEC program, although CEC was sometimes included in comparisonsof major weapons programs.6 Similarly, a search of the Congressional Budget Of-fice Web site produced no reviews.7 The Congressional Research Service (CRS)does not permit public access to its publications, but a search of CRS documentslisted on three Web sites—the Federation of American Scientists,8 Representa-tive Mark Green,9 and the State Department10—revealed a few discussions ofCEC as part of CRS studies of network-centric warfare or the Navy’s currentdestroyer (DDG-1000), cruiser (CG[X]), and Littoral Combat Ship acquisitionprograms.11

In the absence of official studies and reviews of the CEC program, the infor-mation used in this monograph to describe the program derives from unclassifiedarticles written for trade magazines and interviews conducted with personnel atthe Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory, the Navy’s ProgramExecutive Office/Theater Surface Combatants, and the commander of Naval SeaSystems Command, Vice Admiral Phillip M. Balisle. The paucity of available in-formation means that the description of the program in this chapter is provisional.

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cooperative engagement capability 73

The Logic of CEC

The CEC is an integrated air defense network composed of software andhardware that allows ships and aircraft to share sensor data on aircraft or missiles.Ships and aircraft participating in the CEC network share a common, composite,and real-time air-defense representation of the area in which they are operating.Sharing sensor data allows ships and aircraft in a Battle Group to avoid and mitigatecertain types of errors, such as tracking discontinuities that plague even powerfulindividual radars. For instance, highly variable atmospheric phenomena may causefalse returns or no returns on radar. In littoral areas, horizon and local terrain limitthe detection range for radar, and reduce the ability of individual shipborne radarsto detect and engage long-range, low-altitude aircraft and missile threats. Flightprofiles of low altitude and high speed complicate the difficulty of detecting aircraftor missiles having a small radar cross section. The presence of friendly or neutralships and aircraft within the littoral area also complicate identifying and trackingpotential rapid “pop-up” threats, thereby reducing the range at which threatsmay be detected and shortening the reaction time to respond to hostile aircraftor missiles. In sum, CEC reduces the number and variety of errors associatedwith individual radars (no matter how powerful) by increasing the ability of thebattle group to track targets accurately, and to maintain a consistent identity andpath for each target. During Operation Desert Storm, shipborne radars locatedat different positions in the Persian Gulf could not consistently detect and trackthe same targets. CEC, by sharing raw sensor data among all equipped ships andaircraft, avoids critical and longstanding errors: with CEC, there are fewer dualand swapped tracks, fewer inconsistent identifications, and higher track accuracyof all flying objects.12

There also is a little noticed—but very significant—implication of CEC’sability to reduce the number and variety of errors attendant to individual radars:CEC may reduce stress levels and cognitive demands of calculation and compu-tation for individuals in combat information centers looking at display monitorsand making decisions to engage and kill airborne threats.13

Although none of the technical articles surveyed for this chapter refer tothe concept of redundancy as a means to reduce sensor errors,14 the underlyinglogic for CEC exploits the insights of mathematician John von Neumann on therole of redundancy in designing reliable systems from unreliable components.15

Von Neumann argued that the probability of error, e.g., within a communicationschannel, can be made arbitrarily small by carrying the message on multiple andindependent lines. In CEC, radar data from the individual ships in a Battle Groupare transmitted to other ships in the group by a line-of-sight data distributionsystem.

In principle, combining the raw sensor data from individual ship and aircraftsensors provides a more reliable and accurate picture of aircraft and missiles. Eachship or aircraft uses identical data-processing algorithms so that each has the samedisplay of track information on missiles and aircraft. The technical challenge is to

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combine the available information and distribute it to operators in real time. Usingsensor data relayed by other ships in the group, any ship may launch an antiairmissile at a threatening air target within its engagement envelope.16

The ability for each ship’s antiair warfare combat system to attack targetsusing other units’ missiles, targeting data, and terminal homing guidance providesthe entire battle force with a more reliable and much deeper depth of fire. Thereliability of the entire battle force’s antiair warfare capability also increasesbecause the networking of the force (through CEC) allows older (or legacy)systems to operate beyond their original design capabilities by linking them withthe newest sensors in the Battle Group.

Origin of the CEC Program

During World War II, the threat of kamikaze attack aircraft established aneed for coordinated air defense among ships that would have a longer range thanthat of individual ships. In 1958, the Johns Hopkins University Applied PhysicsLaboratory (APL) forecast that the Navy would need an air defense system able toscreen, monitor, track, and attack large numbers of radar contacts simultaneously.17

APL played a lead role in developing the Talos, Terrier, and Tartar ship-to-air missiles, and integrating these missiles with search radars and weaponscontrol equipment. This systems integration work entailed coordinating shipswith overlapping antiair warfare ranges. Yet, a basic coordinated air defensesystem was deployed only in early 1960, with the arrival of the tacticaldata link, referred to as Link-11, and the Naval Tactical Data System. Con-tinued development of aircraft and missiles by U.S. adversaries spurred theneed for additional advances in detection, weapons control, and engagementof air and missile targets. Automating detection, weapons control, and en-gagement was a primary technical solution to the increased range and largernumber of attackers, but automation was accompanied by greater difficulty ofcoordination.18

One potential solution was the Aegis weapon system, composed of a powerfulphased array radar (the AN/SPY-1), a tactical computer program to monitor theradar and direct antiair missiles, and a battery of antiaircraft missiles. In 1969, RCA(now Lockheed Martin) won the Aegis antiair warfare development contract.19 In1972, an Aegis acquisition milestone identified the goal of raising a Battle Group’sability to conduct antiair warfare by sharing Aegis sensor data with older sensorsystems on various classes of ships. At the time, no technology was availableto perform these tasks.20 Indeed, Navy officers saw no need for sensor nettingand industry leaders believed that sensor netting would undercut their ability tosell many individual advanced and powerful radars.21 Between 1972 and 1975,APL invented and analyzed the concept of a “force weapon-control system” thatentailed data processing and data distribution—these were the forerunners of theCEC concept fifteen years later.22

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By 1977, four factors influenced the development of the Battle Group Anti-Air Warfare Coordination (BGAAWC), a program begun at APL to integrate andcoordinate newly developed ship air defense systems, and managed under theAegis Program. These factors were:

1. Projected Aegis performance promised outstanding radar detection and trackingthat could be used by all ships in a Battle Group.

2. Operational fleet experience with Talos, Terrier, and Tartar anti-air missiles andLink-11 revealed severe performance shortfalls, including inappropriate engage-ments of friendly forces and inadequate speed, capacity, and data-link fidelity ofthe tactical combat computer system.

3. New and improved display, automation, computer processing, and miniaturizationtechnology was available but not employed for coordinated air defense.

4. Laboratory studies projected that a battle group’s air defenses could be coordinatedmore effectively.23

Navy and APL technical personnel recognized that there would be a pow-erful force multiplier effect if Aegis target detection and tracking data could bedistributed and coordinated with other Aegis and antiair warfare ships. Throughthis work in the early 1970s, APL engineers and scientists conceived the CECconcept.24

APL, as the Navy’s “technical direction agent”25 for the BGAAWC26 pro-gram’s system engineering process, developed requirements and performed criticallaboratory and at-sea experiments. Experiments to prove the concepts of combin-ing raw sensor data and integrating these with fire control were successful. Inlate 1981, seeking an appropriate defense against large numbers of antiship cruisemissiles launched from Soviet Backfire bombers, the Chief of Naval Operationscommissioned the Center for Naval Analyses (CNA) to conduct the “Outer AirBattle Study.” Completed in 1983, the “Outer Air Battle Study” authors arguedthat netted defenses—a capability afforded by the CEC concept—would be neededto counter cruise missiles.27

Studies such as the CNA’s “Outer Air Battle Study” and continued tech-nological progress converged around 1987 to show the practicality of the CECsignal processor. Experience garnered in the BGAAWC program translated read-ily into the CEC program. In July 1987, the CEC program was established andan APL requirements, development, and test team was assembled from APL staffwho worked in various programs, including Aegis, Terrier/Tartar, and BGAAWC.Within three years, more than 170 APL staff members were working on CEC,primarily from APL’s Fleet Systems Department, but also from the Space, NavalWarfare, and Submarine Technology Departments.28

In 1987, CEC was managed by an office that became the Navy CEC ProgramOffice, PMS-465 in the Naval Sea Systems Command’s (NAVSEA’s) ProgramExecutive Office for Theater Combatant Systems (PEO[TCS]).29 Under the di-rection of the Program Executive Office, a multiorganizational system developed

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composed of more than thirteen geographically distributed separate governmentoffices and private companies. In addition to NAVSEA’s CEC Program Office(PMS-465), these agencies and companies included APL, the NAVSEA’s ProgramExecutive Officer for Theater Combatant Systems Interoperability Task Force,NAVSEA’s divisions at Dahlgren, Crane, Port Hueneme, and Corona, variousDoD test ranges and land-based test sites, Raytheon Systems Company, LockheedMartin Corporation, Northrop Grumman Corporation, and E-Systems/ECI Divi-sion. This multiorganizational system developed and tested CEC aboard severalclasses of ships (e.g., Aegis cruisers, destroyers, and aircraft carriers) and the E2-CHawkeye aircraft.30

In parallel to the interaction among Navy offices, APL, and private compa-nies, members of Congress and their staffs expressed strong interest in the accom-plishments and potential of CEC, and have influenced the program developmentschedules and performance goals. The at-sea test, Demo 90 (discussed below), wasdescribed to Congressional staff and senior Navy leaders while the operational ex-perience of Operation Desert Storm was very fresh. Congressional staff and Navyleaders recognized that CEC might solve Desert Storm operational deficienciesinvolving “situational awareness,” target identification and sensor effectiveness,and coordinated deployment of offensive and defensive systems. Congressionalstaff, interested in the deployment of CEC by all the armed services, directed theNavy to speed up the CEC development schedule and to add new functions to theprogram (e.g., composite identification and self-defense system cueing).31

CEC Program Management and Testing

CEC was demonstrated in Demo 90,32 which was conducted at sea in Julyand August of 1990. Before the test, an intensive period of study, analysis, anddiscussion occurred between APL and the Navy. System models were created toanalyze and explore different designs and to ensure that the system configurationwould meet performance goals. After these preliminary design and tradeoff analy-ses, experiments, and studies were completed, the proposed system was evaluatedin detail at Navy design reviews, whereupon the system design was frozen forDemo 90.33

Demo 90 involved two weeks of intensive exercises in an operational envi-ronment that involved ships, land-based surrogate ship systems, and aircraft. Thetest focused on the coordination of sensors in a carrier battle group and empha-sized the generation, fidelity, and validity of the CEC composite-track pictureof all aircraft and missiles. More specifically, the test also demonstrated sev-eral critical CEC concepts including distributed tracking, distributed net control,measurement-level sensor data networking, and phased-array antennas in the DataDistribution System. Evaluation of the test results, performance shortfalls, andrecommended improvements were documented for tests planned for June 1994.In addition, based on the Demo 90 test results, the Navy issued an Operational

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Requirement Document, a document required by DoD acquisition procedures,which directed the CEC program to include early warning aircraft and all surfaceships that had antiaircraft and self-defense capabilities.34

Following the initial Demo 90 briefing, Congress continued to receive regularbriefings on the status of the CEC program; Congress directed the Navy to begina formal at-sea test period beginning in late 1993. These tests were required todemonstrate new CEC capabilities inspired by Desert Storm experience, and toallow the Fleet to experiment with new tactics. Congressional interest in thesetests stimulated the Navy to assign, for the first time, an entire Battle Group totest a single system. Congressional interest also extended to the identification ofspecific ships for participation.35 In order to facilitate CEC program management,APL created a coordinating organization composed of representatives from theProgram Executive Office, Navy laboratories, and industry.36

The 1994 tests involved both developmental tests (called DT-IIA), and oper-ational tests (called OT-1). The developmental tests examined design and equip-ment performance, and the operational tests scrutinized the Dwight D. Eisenhower(CVN 69) Battle Group operational performance, which included the Anzio (CG68), Cape St. George (CG 71), Kidd (DDG 993), Wasp (LHD 1), and a P-3 air-craft. In the developmental tests of prototype equipment, the ships in the BattleGroup were able to “kill” some targets they could not “see.” Reviewing these tests,Secretary of Defense William J. Perry declared, “this is the greatest thing sincestealth.”37

The operational tests began in June 1994; inspired by the experience of Demo90, the preparation for these tests involved the same type of design studies, ex-periments, and analyses and interaction between APL and the Navy that precededDemo 90. The June 1994 Developmental and Operational Test was conducted bythe Dwight D. Eisenhower Battle Group.38 This test, like Demo 90, demonstratedtremendous potential to reduce problems in identifying and tracking airbornetargets. It should be noted that Navy officers preparing the Battle Group for de-ployment did not welcome the added requirement of installing and testing CEC.As then-Capt. Phillip M. Balisle (commander of the Aegis cruiser Anzio, one ofthe ships in the Eisenhower Battle Group) remembered, he was “shocked andsuspicious” of CEC and thought it was not technologically capable of performingthe promised functions.

The experience of the tests in the underway periods and DevelopmentalTesting changed his mind. There were seven dedicated “underway” periods—training and exercises—prior to deployment of the Battle Group. At the start ofthe predeployment exercises, the antiair warfare specialists applied then-existingcriteria to arrange the geometry of ships to assure good sensor coverage of potentialairborne threats. With the use of CEC, Balisle remarked, “the light bulb turnedon,” and they realized that CEC would allow a far more effective arrangement ofships (and sensors) to identify, track, and counter enemy aircraft and missiles thanpossible by individual ships.39 In these exercises, the Eisenhower Battle Groupdemonstrated a robust sensor netting capability integrated with fire control.40

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Balisle’s realization that CEC would change significant aspects of warfare at seais reminiscent of the sudden insight Rear Adm. William F. Fullam—a battleshipadmiral—had about the future role of aviation. Yet, in both cases what matteredmost was the “shared commitment to deciding rationally, on the basis of evidencegathered from simulations and experiments, [and] how to judge among . . . differentproposals.”41

Operational assessments were conducted in 1995, and in May the system re-ceived Milestone II approval for entry into engineering and manufacturing devel-opment, which signified that CEC met seventeen activities required in MilestoneI’s program definition phase.42 The subsequent engineering and manufacturingdevelopment phase would determine system capabilities and whether the CEChardware and software were producible, supportable, and cost-effective.43

Between January 19 and February 2, 1996, at Kauai, Hawaii, a cruise missiledefense Advanced Concept Technology Demonstration—“Mountain Top”—wasconducted using CEC. The demonstrations and tests conducted under MountainTop involved the CEC-enabled first ever beyond-radar horizon engagement of acruise missile from a ship, and established the potential for beyond-line-of-sightPatriot (PAC-3) surface to air missile engagements.44

Later in 1996, Initial Operational Capability (IOC) was certified for the useof computer programs and equipment (AN/USG-1) in the Aegis guided missilecruisers Anzio and Cape St. George. Both ships, with CEC installed, deployedtwice with the Dwight D. Eisenhower Carrier Battle Group with positive reviews.In preparation for certifying IOC, program managers ensured that the computerprograms operating on CEC equipment were reliable and mature. They also devel-oped airborne and shipborne versions of the Common Equipment Set (AN/USG-2and AN/USG-3, respectively) that would be smaller, lighter, more reliable, andcheaper.45

In early 1997, following congressional guidance, the Navy certified InitialOperational Capability (IOC) for CEC, which entailed upgrading engineering de-velopment model equipment to the AN/USG-1 configuration.46 Although CEChad achieved IOC with the AN/USG-1 equipment, the program had not yetpassed Technical Evaluation (TECHEVAL) and Operational Evaluation (OPE-VAL). Passing TECHEVAL and OPEVAL were required to approve productionof the AN/USG-2 equipment set.47 In July 1997, an Initial Operational Test andEvaluation of the AN/USG-2 data distribution system was conducted on the am-phibious assault ship Wasp. In August, additional tests were conducted to supportthe decision to proceed to low-rate initial production of CEC equipment. Duringthese tests, operators encountered interoperability problems in using the combatsystem and the tactical digital data links.48 Personnel using the combat systemconsoles were overwhelmed with inconsistent data, alerts, and identification con-flicts. Work on CEC over the next three years was devoted to identifying and fixingthe interoperability problems.49

In 1998, further tests on Aegis cruisers Hue City (CG-66) and Vicksburg(CG-69) revealed similar interoperability and combat system problems. Navy

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officials decided that they could not diagnose, fix, and retest the combat systemsfor carriers and amphibious assault ships, and Aegis cruisers—and then test themwith CEC—in time to meet the then-existing Technical and Operational dead-lines. These deadlines were delayed until spring 2001. To meet these deadlines,the NAVSEA Program Executive Office established an Interoperability Task Forcewithin the Program Executive Office for Theater Surface Combatants. The orga-nizational mission for this task force was to coordinate five different acquisitionprograms across three different Navy systems commands and to achieve sufficienttechnical progress in these acquisition programs to warrant operational at-sea testsin 2001 and the deployment of CEC in the John F. Kennedy (CV-67) Battle Groupby 2002. The Interoperability Task Force directed battle group tests and analyses,and the creation of a “system engineering process” to (1) coordinate the prepara-tion of the individual systems for planned Technical and Operational Evaluationsand (2) ensure that the individual combat systems, the tactical data links, and CECwould operate together reliably.

In 1999, two administrative actions were taken that had a great effect on theCEC program. First, CEC was designated an Acquisition Category ID program.50

Second, NAVSEA set up a “Distributed Engineering Plant,”51 composed of land-based test sites using combat system mock-ups, to test and analyze battle groupinteroperability prior to at-sea tests.52 The Distributed Engineering Plant (DEP) in-novation is extremely significant. In effect, DEP accomplishes the long-establishedpublic administration goal of a program “pre-audit,” which assesses the validityof plans and the probability of error and risk prior to operation.53 As such, theDEP offers the means to assess and reduce three types of errors that continuallyplague military development programs: schedule delays, performance shortfalls,and budget overruns. The Army’s Development Test Command plans to test itsnetworked Future Combat System using a DEP-type distributed testing.54

In preparation for the May 2001 operational evaluation (OPEVAL), varioustests and exercises were held. In April 2000, a two-week test was conducted over a40,000 square-mile area along the Atlantic coast of Georgia and Florida at the AllService Combat Identification Evaluation Team exercise. This test demonstratedthe ability of sensors aboard ships and aircraft to be linked into a network toform a “single integrated air picture”—a continuous cohesive track of aircraft andmissiles in real time. At-sea tests were conducted in September 2000 (Underway10) and December 2000 (Underway 11) with the largest number (to that time)of “cooperating units”—Cooperative Engagement Processor-equipped ships andaircraft, connected via the data Distribution System network. The testing featuredthe Wasp, Hue City, Anzio, Cape St. George, Vicksburg, Carney (DDG-64), DwightD. Eisenhower, aircraft, and CEC land sites at the Surface Combat System Cen-ter (Wallops Island, Virginia), and the Combat Direction Systems Station (DamNeck, Virginia). In Underway 10, problems were discovered with network opera-tions, and fixes were identified for CEC, Aegis, and several other systems. Theseproblems were mitigated in time for Underway 11, which was conducted in twophases.55 In Phase I, off the coast of Puerto Rico, tests demonstrated the ability

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of CEC and the Aegis Weapon System to support Standard Missile surface-to-airengagements. In Phase II, off the Virginia Capes, additional sea- and land-basedunits were added to stress system performance and to replicate the challengeof multiple CEC-equipped carrier battle groups operating together. Supersonictargets were engaged by firing a Standard Missile and a NATO Sea Sparrowmissile.

In May 2001, CEC hardware—the AN/USG-2 data distribution system—andbaseline 2.0 software entered operational evaluation and deployment in the JohnF. Kennedy Battle Group.56 The test and evaluation activity determined that theshipboard data distribution system hardware, AN/USG-2, and associated soft-ware were effective, but identified several issues for further examination, partic-ularly interoperability of the aircraft-based AN/USG-3 equipment with the battlegroup. The Acquisition Decision Memorandum (dated April 3, 2002) approvedthe AN/USG-2 for full-rate production of up to 215 CEC systems, the AN/USG-3hardware dedicated for aircraft for Low-Rate Initial Production, and a plan for aCEC upgrade.57 The Memorandum projected the fleet to be fully equipped withthe sea-based CEC by 2008—twenty-one years after the start of the program.58

In 2002, Raytheon, the primary CEC contractor faced competition from Lock-heed and Solipsys for the development of an improved version of CEC, called CECBlock II. In December 2002, Raytheon decided to buy Solipsys. A few monthslater, Raytheon and Lockheed agreed to form a team to compete for the develop-ment of Block II. The Navy, in an effort to retain the advantages of competition,announced in mid-2003 that it would divide the Block II development into smallercontracts. In December 2003, the Navy cancelled its plans to develop CEC BlockII in favor of a new plan for a joint-service follow-on capability.59

Between 2003 and 2006, the Navy addressed interoperability problems iden-tified during operational testing, and maintained that technical corrections weremade to combat systems, such as Aegis, the Advanced Combat Direction System,the Ship Self Defense System, the Command Data Link Management System,and the E-2C Hawkeye. The Director of Operational Test and Evaluation’s Fis-cal Year 2005 Annual Report noted that most of the deficiencies identified inFY 2004 operational testing had been ameliorated or corrected. Fielding of CECcontinues in the Arleigh Burke DDG-51-class of Aegis-guided missile destroyersin amphibious warfare ships, in aircraft carriers, and in E-2C Hawkeye aircraft.The Navy is pursuing various upgrades to CEC, and these improvements willbe installed into existing CEC units already installed into ships and aircraft. CECachieved full operational capability in May 2005. In its review of CEC, the Govern-ment Accountability Office declared that the technologies and design of airborneand ship-based versions of CEC were fully mature, and the basic design wasstable.60

In the meantime, in 2005, the Single Integrated Air Picture (SIAP) program,a program parallel to CEC, delivered a computer model that will enable the Navyand the other Services to implement the theory of network-centric warfare. TheSIAP is a network tool that will provide a single tactical picture of the battlespace

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showing enemy and friendly units on land, sea, and in the air to infantrymen,pilots, and commanders.

Whereas the CEC was a Navy program—created to solve naval air defensethreats—SIAP, a “joint” program, was begun to solve battle management problemsgeneric to all the services. SIAP is being developed by the Joint SIAP SystemEngineering Organization and is supervised by a board of directors composed ofsenior officers from U.S. Joint Forces Command, each of the military services,and the nine Unified Combatant Commands. This board seeks to ensure thatCEC and SIAP sensor measurement and radar tracking will be compatible—orinteroperable. The duplication between the CEC and SIAP led Rear Adm. CharlesT. Bush, Naval Sea System Command’s chief of Integrated Warfare Systems,to replace the Navy’s CEC Block 2 upgrade with SIAP. Yet, a planned productimprovement effort for CEC hardware was also initiated to take advantage oftechnological advances that reduce weight, size, and cost without adding newcritical technologies.61 In early 2007, CEC remains a viable program for navalintegrated fire control, and a principal enabler of network-centric operations bynaval ships.62

The Joint SIAP System Engineering Organization (JSSEO) was chartered bythe vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the undersecretary of defense forAcquisition, Technology and Logistics, and the assistant secretary of defense forCommand, Control, Communications, and Intelligence. As a joint organization,the JSSEO is staffed by representatives from all the services. Like the CEC programoffice, the JSSEO has developed a collaborative system engineering process withina multiorganizational system, which includes interaction with US JFCOM, theJoint Staff, the Missile Defense Agency, Defense Information Systems Agency,Director of Operational Test and Evaluation, the Services, and industry partnersBoeing, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon, and Lockheed Martin.63 Congressionalcommittees have followed the progress of CEC and SIAP and, in the FY 2004defense appropriations act (P.L. 108-87), directed that CEC Block 2 funds may beavailable for “purposes similar to the purposes for which appropriated,” such asSIAP.64

CONCLUSION

At a minimum, Navy program management entails the very difficult taskof coordinating the actions, research, tests, reviews, and approvals of numerousNavy combat system program offices, and their Navy technical agents, e.g., APLand industry. Coordination of these activities takes place within a political systemin which the representatives of different organizations have distinct and differ-ent contexts, goals, and resources with which to evaluate experience. APL, asinventor of the CEC concept and “technical direction agent,” must arbitrate andmediate between industry and the Navy. The NAVSEA CEC program office mustrespond to Congress, and senior Navy and Office of the Secretary of Defense

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officials, such as the OSD Office of Operational Test and Evaluation (OT&E). Al-though these various organizations support the CEC program, their interests andpositions on particular issues sometimes conflict. For example, while Congres-sional staff urge rapid development of the various CEC technologies, OT&E—avoice for more rigorous testing of the CEC hardware and software—places greateremphasis on conducting adequate developmental and operational testing. Contrac-tors compete for priority on CEC contracts, e.g., Raytheon Company’s Command,Control, Communications and Information Systems, and Lockheed Martin’s NavalElectronics and Surveillance Systems. The resolution of these organizational con-flicts most often involves some form of bargaining or negotiation that employsempirical arguments, data, and experimental results to support one or anotherposition.

In any discussion of transformation, the critical issue concerns how organi-zational learning proceeds. In the CEC program, the interaction of many differentorganizations in conjunction with a strong commitment, supported by DEP, tousing tests, exercises, and experiments to resolve technical and operational uncer-tainties provides the appropriate set of relationships to encourage progress.

The development of the technologies associated with CEC has not been easyand technical problems remain. CRS analyst Ronald O’Rourke, for example,notes that Navy officials acknowledge that CEC will strain the Fleet’s availabledata-transmission bandwidth capability. The modification of CEC with TacticalComponent Network, a system developed in parallel, might reduce bandwidthrequirements without reducing effectiveness.65 The feasibility of this potentialmodification of CEC was increased by Raytheon’s purchase of TCN’s developer—Solipsys. The modification has been tested by the multiorganizational system re-sponsible for identifying performance shortfalls in CEC. Using analogous terms,the OT&E FY2001 Annual Report notes the impact of the CEC’s multiorgani-zational system: “through collaborative analysis between the major subsystemteams, rapid feedback was provided to a senior system engineering council thatmade recommendations to the PEO regarding software modifications to enhanceoverall system performance.”66

A key measure of organizational learning is whether the program allows newconcepts to develop in response to experience. Only six years after the CEC pro-gram was born, many new concepts had been proposed and discussions held withpersonnel in other services for future operational applications and technologicalevolution, e.g., to expand antiair warfare capabilities, and to apply the concept tonew activities (such as networked strike and surveillance, tactical ballistic missiledefense, and Navy antisurface and antisubmarine warfare).67 As operational ex-perience with CEC accumulates, naval warfare theorists continue to propose newoperational concepts that will alter the way forces are deployed and employed inways the CEC designers “could not have begun to imagine.”68

In one respect, however, the operation of this multiorganizational system hasnot been very effective in diffusing knowledge about CEC to the Fleet. As ViceAdmiral Balisle noted, the CEC experience of people in the Eisenhower Battle

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Group largely remained “in the family” of those who went to sea with the BattleGroup.69

The next chapter will relate the experience of the CEC program to the de-velopment of amphibious operations doctrine, the introduction of carrier-basedaviation into the U.S. Navy and the Royal Navy, and the approach to doctrinal andweapons development by nineteenth-century military leaders.


1. Organizational learning requires procedures and processes to encode,store, and retrieve experience. Under the best of circumstances, extractingand retaining lessons from experience is a challenging organizational task.

2. Posturing an organization to learn is a strategic choice that partially de-pends on similar choices by other organizational leaders.

3. Under the direction of Naval Sea System Command’s Program Execu-tive Office for Theater Combatant Systems, a multiorganizational systemdeveloped, composed of more than thirteen geographically distributedseparate government offices and private companies.

4. Members of Congress and their staffs expressed strong interest in theaccomplishments and potential of CEC, and have influenced the programdevelopment schedules and performance goals.

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6

Conclusion

Of all things required of public policies, none is more paramount than that they besubject to criticism. The cost of error runs high in this world, and it is manifestly moresensible to prevent error than to correct it. . . . That is why criticism is so important. Itsobject is to anticipate error; to detect it and, hopefully, to correct it—and to do so inadvance of execution.

—Martin Landau1

INTRODUCTION

The advent of World War II heralded a vast expansion in the number and spe-cialization of military administrative organizations—and the personnel to staffthem—created to plan, organize, train, transport, equip, and supply personnel,and to develop new weapons and operational concepts. This increasing numberof specialized organizations to conduct and support the war effort was often ac-companied by inefficiencies, confusion, delay, and lack of coordination. It is noaccident that the American military acronyms SNAFU, FUBAR, and TARFU datefrom 1941. The acronym SNAFU even provided the name of a character, “PrivateSnafu,” for animated Army training films.2

Postwar British and American administrative histories of the war effortdescribed the manifold difficulties of building and coordinating new largeorganizations—the challenges of achieving agreement among competing inter-ests, of communicating effectively, of coordinating actions, of ensuring appropri-ate and timely execution of plans, and of conducting suitable oversight.3 Britishand American national security communities approached these challenges in the

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conclusion 85

context of democratic systems of government, and were thus subject to criticalobservation by politicians and the public.

Contrary to the common assumption that democracy interferes with effec-tive operation of the military, however, Germany and Japan were far worse atorganization and coordination. Writing in 1941, noted British political scientistHerman Finer observes that democracy is rising to deal with the administrative andmanagerial challenges of waging world war.4 With hindsight, British historiansW. K. Hancock and M. M. Gowing note, “the enduring advantages of efficiencydid not lie with those nations which had government permanently immune fromconstitutional criticism.”5 Criticism inherent in democracy actually helps militaryorganizations function more effectively. This observation is pertinent to discus-sions of how to organize to enhance the prospects of transformation. Improvedmilitary capabilities—and an enduring competitive advantage—will result fromcritical observation and from deliberately improving the ability of defense orga-nizations to identify and correct errors and to apply knowledge and analysis indecision making.

As stated in Chapter 1, the primary goal of this study has been to promoteinnovation in Department of Defense (DoD) by examining, comparing, and ana-lyzing how several large-scale changes—or what we now call transformations—took place. The methodological key to unlocking the process of innovationand transformation is attention to levels of analysis. Most studies of innova-tion focus on the actions, choices, and problems faced by individuals in par-ticular organizations. Few studies place the actions of individuals and orga-nizations in the context of the multiorganizational milieu within which theywork. Yet, the multiorganizational environment of individual and organizationaldecision making is the most powerful determinant of how actions are con-ceived, examined, and acted upon, and makes error identification and correctionpossible.

The historical cases examined in these pages show how the interaction amongsets of organizations with partially overlapping tasks and missions enhanced theapplication of evidence, sound inference, and logic to the problems of acquir-ing knowledge about new equipment and new operational concepts. The casesdemonstrate that for senior leadership, participating in a multiorganizational sys-tem should be a strategic and deliberate choice that increases the chances that errorswill be identified, analyzed, and excised from acquisition programs, operationalconcepts, concept development, and doctrine.6

A feature of all the cases, of course, is that no such deliberate choice was madeand designed into the way senior leaders approached the problems of organizingfor and conducting warfare. The interwar USN aviation community and the USMCamphibious operation community were lucky that in a time of rapid technologicaladvance and strategic risk their decisions in framing and solving technologicaland operational problems were made within a functioning multiorganizationalsystem. The Army Air Corps and the Royal Marines were not so lucky. Theexamples of the interwar operation of multiorganizational systems analyzed in

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these pages were not planned arrangements to mesh the operation of separateand independent organizations. No senior civilian or military leader decided thatseparate organizations with overlapping policy responsibilities, tasks, or missionsshould interact, guided by hearings before the General Board. Nor did any seniorleader specify how interaction among separate agencies should proceed. Indeed,there was no conscious search during the interwar period to articulate and designbureaucratic relationships and administrative processes that would increase thelikelihood of error correction. One might ask about individual post-World War IIprograms that prospered despite the apparent absence of intellectual competition,e.g., the Navy’s Special Projects Office that developed the fleet ballistic missilesystem. In this case, a more detailed examination of the project history revealsextensive internal duplication and competition and parallel research paths. Aspolitical scientist Harvey M. Sapolsky observes, “the existence of an integrated,uniquely effective management system is a myth originated by the Special ProjectsOffice. The further removed it was from its source, the more embossed the mythtended to become.”7

In the present time, a great deal of thought is devoted to proper organizationaldesign and the numbers of persons required to perform necessary functions, butthe framework of a multiorganizational system is not guiding these designs, nor isthe extensive literature on how successful innovating organizations often pursuemultiple and parallel approaches to a technology development program.8 The per-sonnel developing the USN’s Cooperative Engagement Capability (CEC) for jointtheater air and missile defense also may have been operating within an evolvingmultiorganizational system. In this case, as the technical capabilities of the datadistribution system and software improved, people in more agencies, offices, andorganizations saw the need to interact. This interaction, in turn, improved the test-ing methodology (through the use of distributed engineering plant), generated newideas for operational concepts, increased operators and commanders’ knowledgeabout the equipment and capabilities, and paved the way for the Joint SIAP SystemEngineering Office, which promises to be a more effective approach to missileand air defense.

In Chapter 1, five broad questions were posed to guide research:

� Toward what concepts of operation should we evolve? How should theUnited States compete in specific missions?

� What organizational forms and arrangements may exploit U.S. technologi-cal and personnel advantages?

� How should the national security community organize itself to develop newoperational concepts, and new organizations appropriate to new technolo-gies?

� Is the use of knowledge and analysis in creating new operational conceptsand organizations more or less effective today than it was in the periodbetween World War I and World War II?

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conclusion 87

� Do today’s analytical tools, computer, information, and Internet technolo-gies provide symbolic cover for a reduced application of knowledge andanalysis to military problems?

With hindsight, it is evident that the answers to some of these questionsoverlap. What follows is a discussion of the core issues raised by these questions.

ORGANIZATIONAL FORMS AND ARRANGEMENTS:MULTIORGANIZATIONAL SYSTEMS

As argued in preceding chapters, the concept of multiorganizational systems iscentral to dealing with organizational pathologies that are very difficult to managein a single organization. It is important to review the properties of the concept andits application to understanding the innovation process.

Briefly, two or more organizations acting together create a social system.Over time, organizations and people in this system assume particular roles anddevelop expectations of others’ behavior. The interaction of separate organizationsproduces a requirement for a different level of analysis to describe and explaintheir collective behaviors. The multiorganizational system has an identity separatefrom its members, and many activities of a multiorganizational system cannot beexplained simply by examining the behavior of its members.9 The potential of amultiorganizational system to identify and correct error exceeds that of any singleorganization.

A critical aspect of multiorganizational systems concerns how actions are co-ordinated. Coordination is, of course, also a problem for individual organizations.The general problem of coordination is that the many tasks and actions performedin any single organization are not specified in advance of action, except in a verygeneral manner. Consequently, one of the most important of organizational pro-cesses is the elaboration of actions and tasks, and the determination of which tasksand activities are to be conducted at which places and times.10 The elaborationof tasks and actions is complicated by the degree to which performance of thosetasks is contingent upon environmental stimuli—such as information or actionsthat originate outside the organization.

A widely accepted tenet of public administration is that severe coordinationdifficulties always accompany activity that requires cooperation among multipleagencies or administrative entities. A plurality of agencies or organizations work-ing on the same set of tasks is viewed negatively. In this view, each agency pursuesits own interest or solutions to its own perceptions of a problem, and the aggre-gate of multiple agencies interacting on a common problem allows the evasion ofresponsibility, especially if errors or catastrophe should occur. Moreover, agencyleaders assume that the difficulties of administrative coordination will be ampli-fied by the cost of duplicative services. The common solution proposed to resolve

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inefficiencies of duplicative services and coordination difficulties is to combineseparate agencies into an interlocking—tightly coupled—network, wherein thesequence of organizational routine works in a fixed order. The various compo-nents of such networks are arranged—on paper organizational charts—so thatthey perform reliably and efficiently, with no redundancy. Against this standardof organization, multiorganizational arrangements that evolve without the benefitof engineering design are viewed as chaotic, inefficient, and an irrational waste ofpublic resources. The assumption behind all reorganization plans is that structuralreforms to reduce the number of autonomous agencies—comprehensive and uni-tary coordination, merging functions, and centralizing jurisdiction and authority—will solve administrative shortfalls. The reality, nevertheless, is that consolidatingindependent agencies normally produces greater difficulty for the chief execu-tive in conserving and managing his attention, a longer chain of command, amore tightly coupled and interdependent hierarchy, and a greater vulnerability tounanticipated and costly events.11

The interwar multiorganizational systems encompassing the naval aviationcommunity and the marine amphibious operations community were looselycoupled—coordination was supplied by the discussion, argument, and analysisof problems before the General Board. In both the amphibious operations andthe carrier aviation examples, professional standards of conduct, and rules of ev-idence and inference encouraged the formation of relationships within a systemof organizations that was able to examine plans, programs, and policies critically,regardless of whether the individual organizations making up the system exhibitedself-correcting or self-evaluating behavior.

In the carrier aviation example, none of the participating naval agencies—theGeneral Board, the Fleet, the Naval War College, or the Bureau of Aeronautics—acting on its own could have pursued carrier development to the detriment ofbattleships. But the system of the four organizations interacting together allowedthe Navy to initiate and implement aviation innovation.

There appears to be a parallel between the two interwar successes and theNavy’s CEC program. The number of agencies working on aspects of the CECprogram was not set by design in the early 1970s when the idea for cooperativeengagement emerged. Over time, as knowledge and experience accumulated andworking models were tested, the relationships among the agencies working onCEC was reviewed, placed under jurisdiction of official acquisition rules, andaltered in various ways.

The roles and duties of Navy agencies and industry working on CEC—and the ways in which they interact—evolved in response to technical failures(e.g., poor interoperability of CEC with other combat systems discovered duringtesting), Congressional concerns, department of the Navy and DoD evaluations,and lobbying by industry participants or opponents.

CEC program relationships evolved partly in response to the same types ofchance factors that affect other acquisition programs (e.g., the presidential ap-pointment of civilian officials, each of whom brings a set of interests, preferences,

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skills, and experiences to oversight and administration of programs) and changinginstitutional relationships. More importantly, CEC program relationships and orga-nization structure also evolved and adapted in response to experience; the system“learned.” For example, the interoperability task force was created after it wasclear that the technical problems were fairly well understood.12 The task force,thus, faced a bounded problem of acquiring information, designing solutions, andidentifying personnel with relevant experience. Had the interoperability task forcebeen created at the program start of CEC, identifying and solving tradeoffs wouldhave proved a far larger and more diffuse intellectual problem.

In a loosely coupled multiorganizational system—in which sequences of ac-tions are not fixed—coordination is provided by the shared interest of each agencyin creating evidence and justifying inferences in support of its own programs,budgets, and activities, that is, (1) the hardware that meets performance require-ments, (2) the tactics, techniques, and procedures that improve U.S. operationalcapability or reduce the likelihood of successful attacks against U.S. forces, and(3) the doctrine about how battle groups should operate in various situations.

A multiorganizational arrangement fosters technological progress and inno-vations, and improves doctrine and tactics. Organizational members are rationallycompetitive. As each agency in the system seeks to strengthen and advance its ownarguments, positions, and priorities, agency players have strong incentives to de-velop supporting evidence.13 They design appropriate exercises and experimentsand search for relevant analogous experience.14 This process trains personnel tothink, plan, and argue rationally. Moreover, the interagency interaction subjectsthis evidence, thinking, and planning to rigorous criticism, exposing flaws early.

ORGANIZATION OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY COMMUNITY

Much of the discussion about appropriate organizational arrangements tospeed technology development projects, to spur innovation, and to transformmilitary forces is, at root, constitutional criticism of the separation of powers andchecks and balances—and the interaction among the many organizations that arecreated under such a constitutional system.

Martin Landau describes these constitutional criticisms beginning withWoodrow Wilson’s 1885 Ph.D. dissertation, Congressional Government.15 In Lan-dau’s analysis, the error-correcting and self-regulating properties of organizationalarrangements set by the Constitution have been underappreciated and misunder-stood. The design of self-regulating and error-correcting systems includes featuresthat act under assorted time constants, levels of response, and positive and negativefeedbacks. Since problems fluctuate and diverge in character, cost, duration, andintensity, self-regulating systems generate different responses to different typesof problems or disturbances. Some problems require deliberate and thoughtfulanalysis; others demand quick response. Some problems address local levels—and must be addressed at those levels; other problems affect the system as a

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whole, and require systemic solutions. The authors of the Constitution placeddecision and choice points at a variety of organizational levels to allow differentresponses in terms of calendars and schedules. The Federalist Papers reveal deepand thoughtful analysis of the relationship between means and ends, and problemsand solutions.

The three practical implications of this analysis for senior DoD officials arethat (1) the logic of the long-standing effort to achieve a unitary decision struc-ture through DoD reorganizations exacerbates, rather than solves, the problemsof how to coordinate to achieve effective “unified” operations, (2) the individualorganization is not the appropriate level of analysis to implement military trans-formation, and (3) tremendous opportunities exist for the exercise of leadership inmultiorganizational systems. In short, the constitutional arrangement of federal-ism, separation of powers, and checks and balances puts a premium on leadershipskills of negotiating, bargaining, and cajoling to coordinate actions across andbetween governmental levels. Needless to say, the premium placed on those socialskills is quite frustrating to those who prefer simply to issue an order to dutifuland responsive subjects.

The proponents of the 1986 DoD reorganization, like proponents of previousDoD reorganizations, promoted centralized authority as the way to avoid policydeadlocks, policy miscoordination and noncoordination, divided authority, andinability to fix responsibility for decision making. James R. Locher III, a SenateArmed Services Committee staffer in 1985, and principal author of the report onDoD organization supporting the Goldwater-Nichols legislation, argues that

[The] principal organizational goal of DoD, both in 1949 and now, is the integrationof the distinct military capabilities of the four Services to prepare for and conducteffective unified operations in fulfilling major U.S. military operations. . . . Effectiveintegration is critical to U.S. national security because none of the major missions ofDoD can be executed alone by forces of any single service. Without effective missionintegration, unification of the four Services—as provided in the National Security Actof 1947—means little.16

Reviewing the impact of Goldwater-Nichols on the DoD from the vantagepoint of fifteen years later, Locher argues that Americans realized they needed“centralized authority” during the Spanish American War.17 While Locher identi-fies what he believes to be errors flowing from the absence of centralized authority,he neither balances that argument with an analysis of the relationship of central-ized authority to other types of organizational errors nor evaluates the cost(s) oferrors of each organizational authority relationship. In fact, the primary outcomeof removing policy, jurisdictional, task, and mission overlap is to create publicmonopolies that disguise rather than expose their errors. Given continual calls forcentralization, efficiency, and the elimination of redundancy, one must wonder,with Capt. Karl Hasslinger (USN, ret.), whether people in the national securitycommunity even recognize that the organization of their relationships is flawed.18

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conclusion 91

The Organization of Experimentation

The appropriate question to ask concerning the organization of national secu-rity community is not, “How can we have a more unified and ‘efficient’ structure?”but, “How can we organize to foster criticism and correct errors?” Of course, theDoD’s 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review Report focused on the former ratherthan the latter question. Yet, if one focuses on how to foster criticism and correcterrors, the answer to questions about the organization of national security becomesobvious and simple: acknowledge the many difficulties in testing ideas about com-bat tactics, operations, and organization; adopt an experimental attitude; conductexperiments in the context of an experimental campaign (or a research program)created to accumulate, catalog, criticize, and access knowledge; integrate doctrinedevelopment with an extensive and rigorous program of simulation and field exer-cises guided by a growing body of knowledge; and devote senior leaders’ attentionto interagency coordination.

Senior military and civilian leaders, as they face an uncertain and unknowablefuture, must make decisions that anticipate consequences of current and pastactions and events, wondering whether they are choosing the right option andsubject to carping by critics who second-guess honest decisions. It is soberingenough to be in charge of large sums of public funds, but military leaders’ choicesaffect the physical well-being of airmen, sailors, soldiers, and marines who risktheir lives in combat.

Service leaders often find themselves in situations where there is broad agree-ment about goals (that is, to defeat the enemy) but a good deal of objectiveuncertainty and disagreement about how to reach the goals. The result is con-siderable heated debate about alternative courses of action implied by doctrinalabstractions. But there is no a priori way to determine which course of action iscorrect. In peacetime, the problem for the national security community is to findthe technical knowledge that will help determine which alternative options areappropriate to which tasks during wartime. This perspective requires a researchorientation—a commitment to test ideas through a combination of experiments,exercises, maneuvers, and analysis (including “armchair” historical analysis andgames and simulations)—and the resources to create and accumulate the appro-priate knowledge.19

How would a research orientation and experimental approach play out in thedevelopment of doctrine? First, we assume that doctrine, like plans and policies,is hypothetical; operations, like programs, are experimental. It is obvious that theobject of doctrine is to direct, control, or influence future events and conditions.Doctrinal statements, therefore, are “if-then” propositions—they are unverifiedwhen formulated. The operations or activities that derive from doctrine are exper-iments, and provide real evidence of the power or inadequacy of the doctrine. Itshould be evidence, not belief, that allows doctrine to be established as a solutionto a stated combat problem. On this matter, Nobel laureate Peter B. Medawar’sadvice to scientists is equally applicable to military leaders and analysts: “I cannot

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give any scientist of any age better advice than this: the intensity of the convictionthat a hypothesis is true has no bearing on whether it is true or not.”20

But is it feasible to apply an experimental approach to doctrinal questions?We are all familiar with the various reasons to ignore the experimental character ofdoctrine, including partisan advantage, self-serving interest, ideological blindness,bias, ignorance, and power plays over turf, status, and position. All bureaucracies,not just military ones, refuse to acknowledge errors and try to hide them. They pun-ish those who would identify errors. Such actions are taken because errors mightreveal misfeasance and incompetence, or threaten coalitions within organizations,or open vital information to opponents, or weaken credibility before authorizingagencies, or lead to loss of power, promotion opportunities, and status.

However, we must understand that solutions to problems of combat tactics,operations, and organization cannot be mandated from nothing; they must bediscovered on the basis of experimentation, exercises, and analysis. Our doctrinaland concept development service organizations must be able to produce knowledgeabout operations against wily and resourceful foes. Experimentation, here, is notsimply a matter of “learning by doing.” It is a matter of establishing a policythat makes possible the systematic accumulation and criticism of knowledge. Inthis respect, exercises also are an appropriate and useful source of information andknowledge. Exercises, experiments, wargames, and “armchair” analyses should beemployed as mutually critiquing and reinforcing components of the experimentalattitude.

The policy of experimentation should allow several competing strategies tobe pursued separately and simultaneously so that comparisons can be made. Thestrategies must be pursued separately, because as soon as they are put into effect,they become experiments. Good experimental technique dictates that we cannotlearn effectively if we do not have independent “controls” so that we may determinethe superior alternatives. A project not conceived as an experiment amounts to awaste of our time, money, and effort.

Senior civilian and military leaders may point out that scarcity of resourcesdoes not permit the luxury of multiple experiments within the context of anexperimental campaign (or research program); we can afford only one projectat a time. Yet, the effort to compare several efforts is not an indulgence; it is anecessity and will save untold future resources. A research program through whichexperimental results are examined and interpreted will more clearly demarcatewhat we know about proposed operational concepts and associated tactics fromwhat we do not know.

In addition, some developing capabilities may enable the acquisition of knowl-edge from multiple experiments and exercises at reasonable cost.21 As describedin Chapter 5, Distributed Engineering Plant is an innovation currently being de-veloped in the Navy and the DoD that may permit multiple experiments.22 A gooddeal of the developmental and operational testing of CEC has involved DistributedEngineering Plant. In the Distributed Engineering Plant, high bandwidth channelslink sensors and other equipment at multiple laboratories, and a few ships and

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aircraft. This set-up simulates the actual composition of various battle groups, andallows the testers to identify and correct errors such as software and interoper-ability conflicts. In the language of public administration, Distributed EngineeringPlant is a “pre-audit”—a means to identify and prevent errors.23 In what should bea significant factor in overall DoD transformation, there is an effort to extend theNavy concept of Distributed Engineering Plant across the Defense Department.The Joint Distributed Engineering Plant program tests other military services’large-scale and expensive projects earlier in their development cycle.24

Until the budgetary and scheduling advantages of conducting multiple ex-periments, for instance, by using Distributed Engineering Plant, are realized, ourattention may continue to be focused on single experiments. Experiments, by def-inition, do not presume a valid relationship between causes and outcomes—theytest the relationship. Experiments are different from commands or orders issuedby political-military authorities, which do presume validity. Experiments precedecommands and are required to establish the information and knowledge that legit-imize commands. If a project is not treated experimentally it will be treated as ifthere were nothing to learn.

Effectiveness is measured by the gap between actual outcome and expectedoutcome. When we can determine effectiveness we can learn, and we can evaluateefficiency. Such evaluation can be difficult to accomplish, because frequently wedo not understand how to measure. Finding the appropriate means to evaluateis vital so we can learn whether our systems fulfill their tasks. No organization,process, or system can work with the zero expectation of error, as the componentsof each are risky actors who are subject to error. We have to expect and capitalizeon error. Objectives are expectations; error is the violation of those expectations.Experiments test the expectations. Without experimentation, vague expectationscannot produce clear grounds for learning. A vague question can produce only adefinite maybe.

FUTURE CONCEPTS OF OPERATION

The question “to what operational concepts should we evolve?” has no a priorianswer in the form of particular mixture of forces or procurement of particularequipment. Inventing operational concepts is an open-ended intellectual and ex-perimental process as new issues arise and old issues disappear. The process ofinquiry is self-destabilizing and cannot be limited, completed, or predicted.25

Yet, the case studies of CEC, the interwar naval aviation community, and theinterwar development of amphibious landing doctrine illustrate that the existenceof a multiorganizational system encourages the type of searching analysis andcriticism that places a premium on creating knowledge and developing empiricalevidence for (or against) various policy options. Indeed, replicating and diffusingthe ability of some acquisition and doctrine development communities to identifyand correct errors, to test and experiment, to accumulate knowledge, and to learn

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are the primary sources of an enduring advantage the United States has over alliesand potential rivals.

While we cannot make categorical statements about the future efficacy of op-erational concepts, we can assert that organizational attention to the identificationand elimination of error will enhance the prospects for the creation and evolutionof appropriate operational concepts. In each case of successful development de-scribed in this study, operational concepts (and technology) evolved in ways thatwere not—and could not have been—predicted.26 In 2002, Vice Admiral Balisleand Rear Admiral Bush noted that with CEC “we have transformed legacy systemsin ways their designers could not have begun to imagine.”27 It should be addedthat operational advantages conferred by CEC to battle groups were not evidentto then-Captain Balisle when he was preparing the cruiser Anzio for exercises anddeployment with CEC. These advantages became clear through the predeploymentexercises, subsequent thought, and discussions among colleagues.28

Similarly, determining how to devise the means to compete in specific mis-sions involves not perfect prescience, but robust organizational means to identifyand eliminate error. Multiplying these organizational means to analyze doctrineand combat experience generates an enormous combat advantage. For example,the wartime birth of operational analysis provided U.S. and British forces a sig-nificant combat advantage over their German and Japanese foes and raised thequestion of how the Germans and Japanese organized scientific support. Happily,neither Axis power organized its scientific personnel as effectively as the UnitedStates and Great Britain.29

THE USE OF KNOWLEDGE AND ANALYSIS: THE INTERWARPERIOD AND TODAY

The many studies lauding interwar innovation may have created an impressionthat analogous large-scale progress today is much more difficult and less likely. Tobe sure, the interwar organizational successes of naval aviation and amphibiousoperations recounted in earlier chapters are quite impressive.

Nevertheless, during the interwar period there also were failures of strategicleadership to organize to learn. Bernard Brodie cites the Navy explanation forwhy battleships had so little antiaircraft defense during and after World War II:Congress was unwilling to appropriate sufficient funds for the purpose. Yet, Brodieasserts this explanation

seems not to withstand the test of record. I can find little evidence that the navy asa whole—and particularly the Bureau of Ships—came anywhere near predicting theneeds of the war in that category of weapons, or that any concerted effort was madeto persuade Congress of the urgency of the problem. Certainly, one can find little toindicate that the navy was eager to sacrifice other, less necessary things accorded it byCongress in order to remedy this glaring deficiency.30

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Brodie’s description is equally applicable to the failure of the Army air leadersto organize the Air Corps to advance aviation equipment and doctrine as effectivelyas did the naval aviation community. In 1949, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalistHanson W. Baldwin catalogued egregious prewar mistakes made by senior airleaders—all of which have their roots in the organizational failure to learn. Baldwinwrites:

Our 1941 appreciation of what air power meant, of what it could do and what itcould not do, was deficient. We did not understand that air power included airfields,antiaircraft guns, and ground troops for the protection of those fields, all grosslydeficient in the Philippines. Our judgments of what air power could do were alsogrossly exaggerated. The range of the B-17 was considerably overestimated. The AirForce ability to bomb shipping from high altitudes was greatly overestimated.31

Such failures of leadership are reminiscent of the post-Civil War period, asdescribed in Chapter 2, in which senior military leaders did not tell Congress whyresources were needed for experimentation.

Repealing Murphy’s Law

Today, it seems that the organizational processes to develop new technol-ogy and doctrine are far more difficult to manage; former Secretary of DefenseDonald H. Rumsfeld came into office determined to alter patterns of behaviorand processes that contributed to bureaucratic failures. On September 10, 2001,he identified bureaucratic impediments to planning and management.32 His so-lutions were new administrative processes, procedures, roadmaps, metrics, andportfolio analysis.33 Unfortunately, these new processes have required personnelto perform comparisons and calculations that cannot be supported by available in-formation or decision tools. Secretary Rumsfeld, in effect, believed he could repealMurphy’s Law and ignore generic sources of organizational error in DoD planning,management, and resource allocation processes.

For example, the DoD’s evolving joint capability portfolio analysis processis far more complex than the designers appreciate. The capability portfolio pro-cess appears to (1) require information and analyses about how, and how well,“capabilities” will generate particular military and political outcomes that DoDcomponents may not be able to provide and (2) involve the interaction and coor-dination of an extraordinary number of activities, people, and offices, obscuringthe relationship between the analysis process and its ultimate purposes.

For some time after World War II, continuing the prewar practice, the defenseacquisition process was a matter of organizing to develop and produce tangiblecommodities as cheaply and efficiently as possible—all the while supportingbusiness enterprise, an administrative goal that frequently counteracted efforts tolimit waste, fraud, and abuse.

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However, as the cold war continued, treating defense acquisition primarilyas a problem of developing tangible commodities created politically untenableplanning, political, and budgetary tradeoffs for senior DoD, Office of Managementand Budget, and Congressional leaders. The impetus for Defense Secretary RobertS. McNamara’s reforms was the recognition that acquisition tradeoffs were theresult of political bargains. McNamara and his aides disdained the bargainingamong Service chiefs and others, and devised a formally rational system of analysisto replace it. In reality, however, the McNamara reforms (e.g., PPBS) did notmake defense analysis substantively more rational.34 Nor did the reforms makedefense analysis procedurally more rational. Instead, McNamara installed a set ofmanagement processes that hid bargaining under a veneer of analytic rigor, whichmade it ever more difficult to pose, negotiate, and carry out reasonable high-leveltradeoffs—a problem that also was endemic in Rumsfeld’s DoD. In addition, thedesigners of the McNamara management reforms unintentionally exacerbated thetechnical difficulty of creating clear and authoritative data about internal functionsand activities. McNamara’s “Whiz kids” underestimated the incentives for themanipulation of information in all organizations—public and private—and theydeprived themselves of the information they needed to make smart decisions.

In 2001, Secretary Rumsfeld recognized that the Office of the Secretary ofDefense did not present management choices in a way to maximize his influenceover options, plans, and choices. Seeking to exert greater influence over how high-level tradeoffs are posed and risks are assigned, he proposed a set of organizationalreforms, including the mandate to make planning rational through “capabilities-based planning.”

The Foreword to the 2001 Quadrennial Defense Review Report (Septem-ber 30, 2001) states that “Adopting this capabilities-based approach toplanning . . . entails adapting existing military capabilities to new circumstances,while experimenting with the development of new military capabilities. In short, itrequires the transformation of U.S. forces, capabilities, and institutions to extendAmerica’s asymmetric advantages.” Continuing the core ideas of McNamara’sreforms, capabilities-based planning requires a higher degree of integrated plan-ning, programming, and budgetary analysis—informed by analysis of capabilitiesacross the services—than has been conducted in the past.

Capabilities-based planning is a more complicated way to organize acquisi-tion; one more akin to acquisition of services than of commodities. Organizationsproducing services pose different kinds of problems from organizations that pro-duce commodities; the information and analytic requirements for the former arehigher. For example, it is more difficult to define appropriate outcome and outputmeasures for organizations that produce services than for those that produce com-modities. The primary error made by proponents of applying capabilities-basedplanning to defense acquisition is that they confuse a method of making choiceswith a mode of presenting results. When a decision is made, the chosen alternativewith the evidence in its favor is presented as if there were no analytical shortcuts,trial and error, or blind alleys. Similarly, this type of error is made by those who

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assume military innovation to be a linear process, which may be planned fromstart to finish. The incentive to produce a coherent narrative encourages authors toomit the messy chance and uncertainty that inevitably exists in any effort to makesomething new.35

In the 1970s, there was great enthusiasm for management information sys-tems designed to provide comprehensive data on a variety of topics. These effortswere abandoned or moderated, because the designers underestimated the diffi-culties of data storage and data processing. More importantly, it became clearthat no one knew (1) how the data were to enter the decision-making process, or(2) to what decisions the data were relevant. A second problem encountered bythe 1970s designers of management information systems is that they assumed thatinternally prepared records were the starting point and the primary source of inter-est for senior management. The resulting databases were designed to give seniormanagers and leaders access to the data about internal processes. It certainly waseasier to make data about internal processes machine-readable. However, seniormanagement was more interested in data about the impact of their organization’splans and actions in the environment, that is, whether their organizations wereachieving their goals. These data were far harder to obtain and to process. Theabsence of clear, transparent, authoritative, and auditable data for major manage-ment functions has been a complaint of senior DoD and U.S. GAO leaders foryears. It is difficult enough to understand what the DoD is doing when usinginternally prepared data. It is even harder to figure out the applicability of externaldata to capabilities (e.g., “lessons learned” and independently derived evaluationsof combat outcomes). The use of computer-based models to match programs andcapabilities only obscures the difficulty of conducting the analysis.

Unfortunately, despite the grand intentions to plan better using capability-based planning or joint capability portfolio analysis, generic organizational errorshave only become more intractable due to interactions among other features ofDoD organizational life:

1. Information overload and attention deficits for senior leadership2. Numbers and the size of acquisition organization(s)3. Ubiquity of information manipulation4. Acquisition and budgeting rules and relationships5. Difficulty of creating the knowledge to resolve the physical “known un-

knowns” and to reveal the “unknown unknowns”6. Greater complexity of hardware and software which increases interoper-

ability failures7. Political involvement of actors and organizations outside and in competi-

tion with the acquisition program.

Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law has not been repealed in the Department ofDefense. It is incredible that acquisition organizations accomplish any tasks atall given the ubiquity of the above contributors for failure and senior leaders’

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lack of understanding of how multiorganizational systems, consciously and prop-erly employed, can combine the advantages of social interaction with intellectualguidance.

Informal Organization and Ad Hoc Organization

Formal organization is the set of abstract, but stable relations that governthe behavior of each member of an organization. The organizational structure,illustrated by an organizational chart and encoded in authority relationships (e.g.,hierarchy, division of work, lines of communication, rules, regulations, and stan-dard operating procedures) is an inadequate description of what and how anyorganization conducts its tasks. The actual organization will operate through in-terpersonal relations that are not specified by the formal organization. Informalorganization develops around the formal structure and entails the partially directedor undirected communications that develop between people and organizationalcomponents. Informal organization is essential to the effective operation of formalorganization, as it compensates for “rigidities” and situations unanticipated by theorganization’s hierarchy, division of work, lines of communication, and so on.36

Long-time Bureau of Budget (now the Office of Management and Budget) offi-cial, Harold Seidman, noted that without informal organization “the governmentprobably would grind to a halt.”37

Ad hoc organization is the creation of entirely new authority relationships,hierarchy, division of work, lines of communication, rules, regulations, and stan-dard operating procedures. While informal organization strengthens and supportsexisting formal organization, ad hoc organizations are created to accomplish tasksthat existing formal (and its associated informal) organizations do not or have notperformed. On this matter, Seidman remarked that ad hoc organizations becomenecessary “when coordination cannot be achieved by sound organization, goodmanagement, and informal cooperation among agencies in related and mutuallysupporting activities.”38

Studies of workplace practices show that the ways people actually workdiffer fundamentally from the ways that work is described in organizationalcharts, manuals, training programs, and job descriptions.39 Mid-level person-nel understand the value of interaction to solve complicated problems thatcannot be addressed by single individuals or personnel in individual offices.40

Such groups exist for various periods and have been of varying effective-ness. Nevertheless, ad hoc organizations, like informal organization, are—andhave been—prominent components of formal organization. In 1960, DoD tes-timony provided to the Senate Government Operations’ Subcommittee on Na-tional Policy Machinery reported 733 committees and 179 subcommittees—not including classified committees or National Security Council interagencycoordinating committees.41 More recently, members of one of the 2006 Quadren-nial Defense Review DoD Organization Working Group counted 861 coordinatingcommittees.42

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Senior military and civilian leaders implicitly recognize the weaknesses oftheir formal organizations because, when confronted with an unusual problem,they create ad hoc organizations (e.g., special commissions, integrated productteams [IPTs], or informal study teams) to solve them. Thus, for example, todeal with rising air-to-air losses during the Vietnam War, Capt. Frank W. Aultwas called to a conference with Rear Adm. Bob Townsend (commander, NavalAviation), and Vice Adm. Tom Connolly (deputy chief of Naval Operations forAviation) and assigned to figure out how the Navy should reverse its unfavorableaircraft kill exchange ratio.43 Ault was surprised to discover that no one at theCenter for Naval Analyses—the Navy’s operations research organization formallycharged with examining such matters—had noticed that the Navy’s poor exchangeratio in air-to-air combat was a problem.44

The creation of ad hoc organizations to solve specific issues is only a short-term and informal fix when the formal organization does not monitor its environ-ment and the status and effectiveness of actions and programs created to achieveits goals and priorities. A crisis is not an ideal time to begin strategic planning. Insuch a situation, prompt action—prepared by deliberate thought and planning—is necessary. The value for strategic leadership of making time to think often isunderestimated. Even more underestimated is the value of deliberately posturingorganizations to learn by collecting, cataloging, criticizing, storing, and provid-ing access to knowledge. On occasion, society’s lack of organized intellectualpreparation to deal with pressing problems has been noted.45 It is remarkable andalarming that in the wake of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in New YorkCity and Washington, DC, no intelligence agency began to prepare databases aboutMuslim suicide murderers. Two nongovernment researchers seized upon the valueof creating databases about suicide murderers; they subsequently received manyrequests from intelligence agency personnel for their databases.46

The most important implication of the cases described in this study is thatknowledge and analysis may be generated consciously—and employed moreeffectively—by multiorganizational systems than by single organizations. Thedaily operation of multiorganizational systems creates incentives among per-sonnel in separate agencies to be empiricists, that is, to produce and employknowledge useful to frame and decide issues. The interaction of individuals andindividual organizations acting against, as well as in cooperation with each other,creates the incentives for more rigorous use of evidence and inference inside eachorganization.

The result of this interaction among agencies is what Jacob Bronowski referredto as an empirical outlook. Writing about the role of operational analysts duringWorld War II, Bronowski noted they applied logical and quantitative skills tomilitary problems, “but neither of these is really as important as the fact that theytried to act empirically . . . [that it is necessary to apply] . . . empirical evidencefor the rightness or wrongness of the assumptions and underlying strategy bywhich war is to be made.”47 As this book’s cases have shown, multiorganizationalsystems foster an empirical outlook, regardless of time period or the substance ofthe technical problem.

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FINAL THOUGHTS

Cognitive psychologists have observed that people consistently exaggerateafter an event what could have been anticipated with foresight; they also misre-member their own predictions about future events to exaggerate in hindsight whatthey thought they knew in foresight.48 This characteristic of human thought isdangerous for historians, policymakers, and analysts. Knowledge of outcomes ofevents or processes and the desire to create a coherent narrative make it easy toexaggerate the foresight of historical actors. Such exaggeration limits the utilityof historical analysis to the policymaker because it encourages (1) the view thatparticipants in an historical situation were fully aware of its eventual importanceor impact (Johannes Gutenberg, for instance, did not anticipate that his inventionof movable type would begin a revolution in literacy that would lead to the in-dustrial revolution), and (2) the myth of the critical experiment that instantly andunambiguously establishes the validity of one theory, technology, or operationalconcept. In the case studies of operational and technological innovation describedin earlier chapters, no one had perfect foresight. Identifying and pursuing promis-ing technologies or operational concepts, or failing to do so, was far less a matterof the intelligence of individuals than the way in which their organizations inter-acted. The presence of a multiorganizational system seems to be indispensableto creating and accumulating knowledge, and guiding and structuring learning.Multiorganizational systems, thus, offer a venue for the exercise of conscious anddeliberate strategic leadership by those able to combine intellectual direction withsocial interaction.

Barry Posen has argued that doctrinal reform most often has come aboutas a result of demands imposed by civilians acting in concert with “militarymavericks.”49 The argument proposed in this study that organizational self-correction and self-evaluation most effectively occur during interaction amongorganizations explains why. Military organizations are less open to changewhen interaction is minimal or nonexistent among organizations tasked withnational security responsibilities. Doing better at removing sources of organi-zational error would give the United States a tremendous and enduring ad-vantage in acquiring capable equipment and inventing appropriate operationalconcepts. In this matter, Carl von Clausewitz offers useful advice, “The maxi-mum use of force is in no way incompatible with the simultaneous use of theintellect.”50


1. Criticism inherent in democracy helps military organizations functionmore effectively.

2. Improved military capabilities—and an enduring competitive advantage—will result from critical observation and from deliberately improving the

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ability of DoD components to identify and correct errors and to applyknowledge and analysis to their decisions.

3. Two or more organizations acting together create a social system. Overtime, organizations (and people) in this system assume particular rolesand develop expectations of others’ behavior. The interaction of separateorganizations produces a different level of analysis to describe and explaintheir collective behavior. The multiorganizational system has an identityseparate from its members, and many activities of a multiorganizationalsystem cannot be explained simply by examining the behavior of its mem-bers. The potential of a multiorganizational system to identify and correcterror exceeds that of any single organization.

4. The multiorganizational environment (of individual and organizationaldecision making) is the most powerful determinant of how actions areconceived, examined, and acted upon, and makes possible processes oferror identification and correction.

5. For senior leadership, participating in a multiorganizational system shouldbe a strategic and deliberate choice that increases the likelihood that er-rors will be identified, analyzed, and excised from acquisition programs,operational concepts, or doctrine.

6. An enduring advantage to the United States over potential rivals and allieswill result from replicating and diffusing the interwar carrier aviation andamphibious operations multiorganizational experience to U.S. acquisitionand doctrine development communities.

7. The answer to devising means to compete in specific missions involvesnot perfect prescience, but robust organizational means to identify andeliminate error. Multiplying the organizational means to analyze doctrineand combat experience generates an enormous combat advantage.

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Notes

Acknowledgments

1. Thomas C. Hone, Norman Friedman, and Mark D. Mandeles, American and BritishAircraft Carrier Development, 1919–1941 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1999);Mark D. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion: A Case Study inOrganizational Innovation (Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1998);Mark D. Mandeles, The Future of War: Organizations as Weapons (Dulles, VA: PotomacBooks, 2005).

Chapter 1: Transformation and Learning in Military Organizations

1. James Madison, “Number 10,” in Clinton Rossiter, ed., The Federalist Papers (NewYork: A Mentor Book, 1961), 77.

2. Walter Millis, Arms and Men: A Study in American Military History (NewBrunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1984), 90.

3. Mark D. Mandeles, The Future of War: Organizations as Weapons (Dulles, VA:Potomac Books, Inc., 2005).

4. The literature on operational implications of new weapons technologies is huge.Recent offerings include Bradley Graham, “Criticism of War Game Rejected: General SaysCombat Experiment Was Not about Winning,” The Washington Post (September 18, 2002),A27; Michael Schrage, “Military Overkill Defeats Virtual War: And Real-World SoldiersAre the Losers,” The Washington Post (September 22, 2002), B05. See also Dan Moore andJim Perkaus, “A Top Gun for Air-Ground Ops,” Proceedings 128 (October 2002), 42–44.

5. This work on transformation followed and complemented Office of Net Assess-ment (a component of the Office of the Secretary of Defense) analyses of the conceptof military revolutions or revolutions in military affairs. The Office of Net Assessmentresearch was partly inspired by Soviet military analyses, such as Col. Gen. N. A. Lomov,ed., Scientific-Technical Progress and the Revolution in Military Affairs (Moscow: Ministry

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of Defense, 1973). An early Office of Net Assessment-sponsored study of military inno-vation by Thomas C. Hone and Mark D. Mandeles (Innovation in Naval Aviation [1982])was summarized—and made more widely available—in 1987 (Thomas C. Hone and MarkD. Mandeles, “Interwar Innovation in Three Navies: USN, RN, IJN,” Naval War College Re-view 40 [Spring 1987], 63–83). This research was reevaluated by Thomas C. Hone, NormanFriedman, and Mark D. Mandeles (The Introduction of Carrier Aviation into the U.S. Navyand Royal Navy: Military-Technical Revolutions, Organizations, and the Problem of De-cision [1994]), and was published as American and British Aircraft Carrier Development,1919–1941 [Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1999]). To the corpus of this researchsponsored by the Office of Net Assessment, Mandeles added a study of a post-World WarII military revolution (Military Revolutions during Peacetime: Organizational Innovationand Emerging Weapons Technologies [1995], published as The Development of the B-52and Jet Propulsion: A Case Study in Organizational Innovation [Maxwell Air Force Base,AL: Air University Press, 1998]), and an examination of how future military organizationsmight employ new sensors, and computational, and command and control technologies(Organizational Structures to Exploit the Revolution in Military Affairs [2000], publishedas The Future of War: Organizations as Weapons [Dulles, VA: Potomac Books, 2005]).

6. U.S. Department of Defense, Report of the Defense Science Board Task Force onDoD Warfighting Transformation (September 1999).

7. Ronald O’Rourke, Defense Transformation: Background and Oversight Issues forCongress, RL32238 (February 17, 2006).

8. Public Law 105-261, Title IX—Department of Defense Organization and Manage-ment, Subtitle A—Department of Defense Officers and Organization, Section 903 Inde-pendent Task Force on Transformation and Department of Defense Organization.

9. Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Acquisition and Technology, Reportof the Defense Science Board Task Force on DoD Warfighting Transformation (September1999).

10. George W. Bush, “A Period of Consequences,” speech delivered at The Citadel,September 23, 1999, http://citadel.edu/r3/pao/addresses/pres bush.html, accessed Septem-ber 7, 2006. According to Michael R. Gordon and Bernard E. Trainor, Richard L. Armitage(who became deputy secretary of state) was the primary author of this speech. See MichaelR. Gordon and Bernard E. Trainor, Cobra II: The Inside Story of the Invasion and Occupa-tion of Iraq (New York: Pantheon Books, 2006), 513.

11. Donald H. Rumsfeld, “DoD Acquisition and Logistics Excellence WeekKickoff—Bureaucracy to Battlefield,” speech delivered at the Pentagon, September 10,2001, http://www.defenselink.mil/Speeches/Speech.aspx?SpeechID=430, accessed June1, 2006.

12. Vice Admiral Cebrowski led the Office of Force Transformation until a lingeringillness forced him to retire at the end of January 2005. He died on November 12, 2005.

13. One reviewer was confused about the term “national security community.” I definethe national security community as including the Department of Defense (DoD), Congres-sional committees and organizations overseeing the DoD, industry (including consultinggroups and “think tanks”), university consultants, research institutes, and the press.

14. Unfortunately, for the purposes of this book, there is no clear definition of learning.Academics studying the broad phenomena of “organizational learning” admit that there isno clear definition of the topic. Studies of learning in organizations tend to focus on routinesand adopting new ways of accomplishing existing tasks rather than on how people makeexplicit choices. Learning is a process that replaces present actions with new ones. SeeMichael D. Cohen and Lee S. Sproull, eds., Organizational Learning (Thousand Oaks,

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CA: SAGE Publications, 1996). Consequently, the lexical definition of learning will haveto inform this book’s analysis. Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary defines “learn”as “to gain knowledge of (a subject); to acquire information concerning, as by instruction,study, observation, experience, etc.; to acquire skill in (anything).”

15. Some early analyses of intelligence coordination and interaction failures are de-scribed in the following news articles: Dan Eggen and Jim McGee, “FBI Rushes ToRemake Its Mission: Counterterrorism Focus Replaces Crime Solving,” The Washing-ton Post (November 12, 2001), A01; George Lardner, Jr., “Report Criticizes StumblingBlock Between FBI, Espionage Prosecutors,” The Washington Post (December 13, 2001),A03; James V. Grimaldi and John Mintz, “Agent Alleges FBI Ignored Hamas Activities:Chicagoan Sues, Saying Bureau Refused to File Charges, Disrupt Pre-Sept. 11 Crimes,”The Washington Post (May 11, 2002), A10; Dan Eggen, “FBI Pigeonholed Agent’s Re-quest: Canvassing of Flight Schools For Al Qaeda Was Rejected,” The Washington Post(May 22, 2002), A01; Robert L. Bartley, “FBI Reform: Connect Anthrax Dots,” The WallStreet Journal (June 3, 2002); Walter Pincus and Dan Eggen, “CIA Gave FBI WarningOn Hijacker: Agency Told That Almihdhar Attended Malaysia Meeting,” The WashingtonPost (June 4, 2002), A01; Judith Miller and Don van Natta, Jr., “In Years of Plots andClues, Scope of Qaeda Eluded U.S.,” The New York Times (June 9, 2002); Walter Pincus,“Agency Teamwork, Bin Laden Aide’s Clues Led to Arrest,” The Washington Post (June11, 2002), A09; Sherry Higgins, Project Management Executive for the Office of the Di-rector, Federal Bureau of Investigation, “Statement For The Record on FBI Infrastructure,”Before the Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Administrative Oversight and the Courts,July 16, 2002, http://www.fbi.gov/congress/congress02/higgins071602.htm, accessed July25, 2002. James Risen and David Johnston, “Not Much Has Changed in a System ThatFailed,” The New York Times (September 8, 2002), 8; Dana Priest and Dan Eggen, “FBIFaulted On Al Qaeda Assessment: Domestic Threat Was Underestimated, Panel Told,” TheWashington Post (September 20, 2002), A01; Susan Schmidt, “Lawyers For FBI Faulted InSearch: Panel Told Legal Staff Misunderstood FISA,” The Washington Post (September 25,2002), A12; Jerry Seper, “IG Says FBI Never Compiled a Terrorist Threat Assessment,”The Washington Times (October 2, 2002); Bill Gertz, “Hill Prober Cites Clinton-era FailuresAgainst al Qaeda,” The Washington Times (October 9, 2002); Judith Miller, “Sounding anUrgent Terrorism Alarm to Deaf Ears,” The New York Times (November 20, 2002); EricLichtblau, “F.B.I. Officials Say Some Agents Lack a Focus on Terror,” The New York Times(November 21, 2002); Vernon Loeb, “The Unique Failures of the FBI,” The WashingtonPost (December 16, 2002); Vernon Loeb, “From the Embattled FBI, an Insider’s Rebuttal,”The Washington Post (December 30, 2002); Vernon Loeb, “9/11 Failure No Obstacle toIntelligence Leaders’ Success,” The Washington Post (January 13, 2003).

16. Thomas C. Hone to Mark D. Mandeles, private correspondence, January 6, 2003.17. As a member of the task force investigating the space shuttle Challenger disaster,

the late Nobel Laureate in physics, Richard P. Feynman, argued that the way information waspresented for decision obscured important differences of opinion, including a three-orderof magnitude difference in risk assessment. See Feynman’s “What Do You Care WhatOther People Think?” Further Adventures of a Curious Character (New York: BantamBooks, 1989), 220. Political scientist Edward R. Tufte extends Feynman’s argument bycharging that Microsoft’s PowerPoint presentation software reduces people’s ability tounderstand causal connections and correlations. See Tufte’s paper, “The Cognitive Style ofPowerPoint” (Cheshire, CT: Graphics Press, 2003).

18. John S. Foster and Larry D. Welch, “The Evolving Battlefield,” Physics Today(December 2001), http://physicstoday.org/pt/vol-53/iss-12/p31.html, accessed February, 3

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2002. Dr. Foster, a member of the Defense Science Board, and General Welch, presidentof the Institute for Defense Analyses and former USAF chief of staff, appear to propose anapproach to combat that increases the likelihood of errors.

19. For an explicit analysis of potential sources of organizational error and the cog-nitive effects of sleep deprivation, fear, stress, uncertainty, ambiguity, and informationoverload on decisions in combat, see Mandeles, The Future of War: Organizations asWeapons.

20. See also the comments of Lt. Gen. Paul K. Van Riper (USMC, ret.) in tracing thecommon goal under the successive terms: “military reform movement,” “military-technicalrevolution,” “revolution in military affairs,” and “transformation.” Paul K. Van Riper,“Preparing for War Takes Study and Open Debate,” Proceedings 128 (November 2002), 2.

21. Arthur K. Cebrowski, “What is Transformation?” white paper submitted to the Al-idade Online Discussion group by Robert Holzer, Office of Force Transformation, October16, 2002. See http://www.alidade.net.

In an August 2002 interview with the Information Technology Association of Amer-ica, Cebrowski also observed that transformation entails the “co-evolution of technology,organization, and concepts,” wherein changes in one of these three factors triggers adapta-tions in the others. See Arthur K. Cebrowski, “An Interview with the Director,” in FatefulLightning: Perspectives on IT in Defense Transformation (ITAA, October 2002). The logicof Cebrowski’s argument about the interrelationship among organizations, technology, andoperational concepts is that of social science “structural functionalism.” See Martin Lan-dau, Political Theory and Political Science (New York: Macmillan Co., 1972), especiallychapter 4.

22. Lt. Gen. Paul K. Van Riper expressed similar sentiments in “Preparing for WarTakes Study and Open Debate,” Proceedings 128 (November 2002), 2.

23. Then-Secretary of the Air Force James G. Roche, for example, assumed an identityrelationship between technology and capability. See James G. Roche, “Transforming theAir Force,” Joint Force Quarterly (Autumn/Winter 2001–2002), 9–14.

24. Dr. Cambone became Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence in 2003.25. Thom Shanker, “Military Spending Proposals Envision Changing Battlefield,”

The New York Times (November 22, 2002).26. Mark D. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion: A Case

Study in Organizational Innovation (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1998), 9. Arecent example from the commercial world parallels the self-generating effects of militarytechnological change. The use of nanotechnology by IBM scientists to devise very highcapacity—and small—computer storage disks is disrupting entire industries, includingdisk makers, the music industry, film and camera industry, and the movie industry. IBMexecutives believe that all human manufactured artifacts eventually will depend on today’slaboratory discoveries: “The long-term consequences of [nanotechnology] are going to betruly transforming. The trouble is, you can’t predict the details of what that world willbe like.” Justin Gillis and Jonathan Krim, “If It’s Nano, It’s BIG: Investors are BuildingMountains Out of Tiny Tech,” The Washington Post (February 22, 2004), F01.

27. Richard McKenna, edited by Robert Shenk, The Left-Handed Monkey Wrench(Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1984), 156–160. I thank Tom Hone for referringme to McKenna’s recollections.

The process by which a transformation in operational capability was retarded in theinterwar U.S. Navy is analogous to the “breakdown of modernization” process sociologistS. N. Eisenstadt describes, wherein the conscious application of knowledge and analysis

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to social decision making is reversed. As a result, such societies are less able to deal with“the problems generated by socio-demographic and structural changes.” See Eisenstadt,“Breakdowns of Modernization,” Economic Development and Cultural Change 12 (July1964), 347.

28. Julius A. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II (Wash-ington, DC: Naval Historical Division, 1959), 356.

29. Headquarters U.S. Marine Corps, “A Concept for Distributed Operations,” April25, 2005.

30. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion, 7–11.31. Russell F. Weigley, History of the United States Army, Enlarged Edition (Bloom-

ington: Indiana University Press, 1984), 585.32. Wayne Thompson, To Hanoi and Back: The U.S. Air Force and North Vietnam,

1966–1973 (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2000).33. Jim Garamone, “Translating Transformation into Capabilities,” American

Forces Press Service, http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02192002 200202191.html, accessed February 20, 2002.

34. Andrew May, Christine Grafton, and James Lasswell, The U.S. Marine Corpsand Hunter Warrior: A Case Study in Experimentation (McLean, VA: SAIC/StrategicAssessment Center, August 30, 2001), i, 33–35.

35. Marine aviator Maj. Lawrence Roberts cites a December 1995 report preparedfor Vice Adm. Robert Spane, Commander Naval Air Force Pacific, “An Operational Ex-amination of Seabased Aerial Fire Support for Troops Engaged.” This report proposeda Hunter-Warrior-type mission for air crews operating from aircraft carriers with groundforces in a nonlinear battlefield. See Lawrence Roberts, “Flying in Hunter-Warrior,” Pro-ceedings (September 1997), 46–50.

36. For an analysis of loosely coupled organization applied to military organization,see Mandeles, The Future of War.

37. Roberts, “Flying in Hunter-Warrior,” 46.38. Ibid., 47–48.39. May, et al., The U.S. Marine Corps and Hunter Warrior, 1, 29–33.40. During Summer 2002, the author discussed the similarity of the operational con-

cepts with personnel from Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense/Special Operationsand Low Intensity Conflict and historians at the Air Force Special Operations Command(Hurlburt Field, Florida), but could find no one who referred to the Hunter Warrior experi-ment as an inspiration for the operational concept employed in Afghanistan.

41. The USMC and U.S. Special Operations Command are working to exploit theAfghanistan experience. In February 2002, the two organizations signed a memorandumof agreement to train more closely and to set up an integrated command structure duringwartime deployments. Vernon Loeb, “Marines, Special Operations Command IncreaseTies,” The Washington Post (February 27, 2002), 21.

42. See Magorah Maruyama, “The Second Cybernetics: Deviation-Amplifying Mu-tual Causal Processes,” American Scientist 51 (June 1963), 164–179.

43. Col. David A. Anhalt (USAF, ret.), “Why Bandwidth Matters: The ChangingNature of U.S. Military Advantage in the Information Age,” unpublished paper, Octo-ber 11, 2002. I also am indebted to Capt. Dan Moore (USN) for reminding me about theimportant role of individuals in defense transformation.

44. Elting E. Morison, Men, Machines, and Modern Times (Cambridge, MA: TheM. I. T. Press, 1966), 17–18.

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45. Andrew L. Ross, Michele A. Flournoy, Cindy Williams, and David Mosher, “WhatDo We Mean by ‘Transformation’?” Naval War College Review 55 (Winter 2002), 31.

46. Cebrowski, “An Interview with the Director.”47. John von Neumann, “Defense in Atomic War,” in A. H. Taub, ed., John von

Neumann: Collected Works, Vol. VI: Theory of Games, Astrophysics, Hydrodynamics andMeteorology (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1963), 525.

48. For the relevance of von Neumann’s ideas to recent discussion of defensetransformation, see President George W. Bush, “President Speaks on War Effort toCitadel Cadets,” The Citadel, Charleston, South Carolina, December 11, 2001, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2001/12/print/20011211-6.html, accessed January 14,2002; Donald H. Rumsfeld, “Secretary Rumsfeld Speaks on 21st Century Transformationof U.S. Armed Forces (transcript of remarks and question and answer period),” remarksas delivered by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, National Defense University,Fort McNair, Washington, DC, Thursday, January 31, 2002; Jim Garamone, “Flexibil-ity, Adaptability at Heart of Military Transformation,” American Forces Press Service,http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Jan2002/n01312002 200201313.html, accessed January14, 2002; Linda D. Kozaryn, “What’s Up at the Pentagon?” American Forces Press Service,http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02062002 200202061.html, accessed Febru-ary 7, 2002; Jim Garamone, “Myers Says Joint Capabilities, Transformation Key to 21stCentury War,” American Forces Press Service, http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02052002 200202054.html, accessed February 6, 2002; Jim Garamone, “Budget Re-quest Funds War on Terror, Military Transformation,” American Forces Press Service,http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02042002 200202041.html, accessed Febru-ary 5, 2002; Linda D. Kozaryn, “High-Tech Weapons, Resourceful Troops WillKeep Army Strong,” American Forces Press Service, http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02142002 200202143.html, accessed February 15, 2002; Jim Garamone,“Translating Transformation into Capabilities,” American Forces Press Service, http://www.defenselink.mil/news/Feb2002/n02192002 200202191.html, accessed February 20,2002.

And, see Thomas G. Mahnken, “Transforming the U.S. Armed Forces: Rhetoric orReality?” Naval War College Review 54 (Summer 2001), 85–99; Ross, et al. “What Do WeMean by ‘Transformation’?”

49. Elaine M. Grossman, “Day-to-Day Burdens Test Fortitude, Patience, Faith: Ten-sions Rise across Ranks in Iraq as Troops are told to Gut it Out,” Inside the Pentagon(November 4, 2004), 12.

50. Aaron Wildavsky, Speaking Truth to Power: The Art and Craft of Policy Analysis(Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Co., 1979), 113.

Chapter 2: Setting the Stage

1. John F. Guilmartin, Jr., “Changing the Guard,” Air University Review 34(March/April 1983), i.

2. Bernard Brodie and Fawn Brodie, From Crossbow to H-Bomb (Bloomington, IN:Indiana University Press, 1973), 134.

3. This section relies heavily on Perry D. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground:United States Army Tactics, 1865–1899 (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press,1994).

4. Ibid., 19–20.

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5. There are multiple estimates of the numbers of deaths caused by disease andpoor camp hygiene. Allan R. Millett and Peter Maslowski observe that Civil War death andcasualty figures are “educated estimates.” Nevertheless, the estimates show more deaths dueto disease and poor camp hygiene than to enemy action. Figures compiled for a nineteenth-century wargame found that of the 304,369 deaths during the Civil War, 111,394 were killedin battle or died later of gunshot and lacerations. In comparison, 142,623 deaths were dueto various diseases and nonsanitary camp conditions (Charles A. L. Totten, Strategos Vol. I,Appendix E [New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1880], 132). Millett and Maslowski fix CivilWar combat death figures at 112,000 Union deaths and 94,000 Confederate deaths, and theyalso show more deaths from disease than from combat—227,500 Union deaths and 164,000Confederate deaths. (See Allan R. Millet and Peter Maslowski, For the Common Defense:A Military History of the United States of America [New York: The Free Press, 1984], 229.)

Of course, during the Civil War the germ theory of disease had not yet been proposedand demonstrated. Yet, after the conclusion of the war, senior officers could have—butdid not—direct research into the causes of disease. Senior army officers did not begin topay attention to the impact of disease and sanitation on fighting ability until the weight ofevidence forced them to pay attention. (See Dale C. Smith, “Edward Lyman Munson, M.D.:A Biographical Study in Military Medicine,” Military Medicine 164 (January 1999), 1–5;personal discussion on March 19, 2002 with Dr. Dale C. Smith, professor and chairman,Department of Medical History, Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences,Bethesda, Maryland, and Dr. Robert Joy, immediate-past Chairman, Department of MedicalHistory, Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences, Bethesda, Maryland.) The1891 Leavenworth board manuals were the first to counsel commanders about maintaininghygiene in the field and latrines (Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 111).

Note, too, ignorance into the causes of disease afflicted other military services. DavidHarvie describes the nineteenth-century effort to treat, prevent, and eradicate scurvy. SeeDavid Harvie, Limeys: The True Story of One Man’s War against Ignorance, the Establish-ment, and the Deadly Scurvy (Stroud, UK: Sutton Publishing, 2002).

6. See the joint Senate and House committee to study Army reorganization (Houseand Senate Joint Committee Report, Senate Report 555, 45th Cong., Sess. 3, II [1879])led by Rhode Island Senator Ambrose E. Burnside. As a general during the Civil War,Burnside commanded Union forces at Fredericksburg. Burnside’s committee sought theviews of former Civil War commanders. Excerpts of testimony by William T. Sherman,James A. Garfield, Winfield Scott Hancock, and George B. McClellan appear in WalterMillis, ed., American Military Thought (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc., 1966),163–179.

7. Russell F. Weigley, History of the United States Army, Enlarged edition (Bloom-ington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984), 266.

8. Weigley, History of the United States Army, 285–288; Robert M. Utley, FrontierRegulars: The U.S. Army and the Indian, 1866–1891 (New York: Macmillan PublishingCo., 1973), 30, 32.

9. Cited in Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 123.10. Ibid., 1.11. See, for example, Charles C. Fitzmorris, “Weapons of Destruction,” in Robert M.

La Follette, ed., The Making of America, Vol. IX: Army and Navy (Chicago: The Makingof America Co., 1906).

12. See for example, Lt. Col. Henry M. Lazelle, “Important Improvements in theArt of War During the Past Twenty Years and Their Probable Effect on Future Military

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Operations,” Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United States 3 (1882), 3307–3373; Capt. Francis V. Greene, “The Important Improvements in the Art of War During thePast Twenty Years and Their Probable Effect on Future Military Operations,” Journal ofthe Military Service Institution of the United States 4 (1883), 1–54.

13. George B. McClellan, “Army Organization,” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine49 (1874), 409.

14. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 84.15. “Line Officer,” “A Tactical Necessity,” Army Navy Journal 23 (January 16, 1886),

488, cited in Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 10.16. Weigley, History of the United States Army, 275; Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly

Ground, 4.17. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 9.18. Ibid., 10–11, 97.19. Ibid., 99–114.20. For example, Capt. John G. Burke offers a first-hand description of campaigning

against Apache Indians in On the Border with Crook (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,1891). See also Robert M. Utley, Frontier Regulars: The United States Army and the Indian,1866–1891 (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1973).

21. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 119.22. Ibid., 121; Barton C. Hacker, “The 400-Year War: Conquest and Acculturation in

the Military Struggle for North America,” in John A. Lynn, ed., Coming to the Americas:The Eurasian Military Impact on the Development of the Western Hemisphere (Wheaton,IL: The Cantigny First Division Foundation, 2003).

23. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 119–122.24. Report on the Russian Army and its Campaign in Turkey in 1877–1878 (New

York: D. Appleton and Co., 1879).25. Cited in Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 62.26. Ibid., 60–61.27. Ibid., 62, 66, 123.28. Ibid., 113, 126–127.29. William T. Sherman was an intelligent man. He made significant contributions to,

as Weigley put it, the “Army’s intellectual renaissance” in the late 1870s. Sherman estab-lished the School of Application for Infantry and Cavalry at Fort Leavenworth (Weigley,History of the United States Army, 287). Sherman’s successor, Philip Sheridan, also wasquite bright. Yet, their understanding was poor of how to organize the Army to learn aboutthe interplay among rapidly changing military technology, operational concepts, logistics,and organization.

30. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground, 79.31. Ibid., 81.32. Ibid., 16.33. Frederick S. Harrod, “New Technology in the Old Navy: The United States Navy

during the 1870s,” The American Neptune 53 (Winter 1993), 6. My thanks to Capt. PeterM. Swartz (USN, ret.) for referring me to this article.

34. See Frank J. Merli, Great Britain and the Confederate Navy, 1861–1865 (Bloom-ington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2004).

35. Frank M. Bennett, The Steam Navy of the United States (Westport, CT: GreenwoodPress, Publishers, 1972), 572; Conway Maritime Editors, Conway’s All the World’s FightingShips, 1860–1905 (New York: Mayflower Books, 1979), 124.

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36. Benjamin Franklin Isherwood, “Report of Bureau of Steam Engineering,” inReport of the Secretary of the Navy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1868);Bennett, The Steam Navy, 555; Edwin B. Hooper, “A Cause Celebre: Wampanoag,” U.S.Naval Institute Proceedings 112 (April 1986), 123.

37. Isherwood describes the Wampanoag in his 1868 “Report of Bureau of SteamEngineering.” In “Sloop-of-War “Wampanoag,” Cassier’s Magazine 18 (September 1900),403–424, Isherwood describes the Wampanoag in great detail and also provides detailedfigures on her sea trials.

38. “Report of Board on Steam Machinery Afloat,” in Report of the Secretary ofthe Navy Showing the Operations of the Department for the Year 1869 (Washington, DC:Government Printing Office, 1869), 142–154.

39. Hooper, “A Cause Celebre: Wampanoag,” 123; Bennett, The Steam Navy, 564;Conway’s, 124.

40. Cited in Bennett, The Steam Navy, 564.41. Ibid., 567.42. Ibid., 570.43. Ibid., 585; Conway’s, 124; James L. Mooney, ed., Dictionary of American Naval

Fighting Ships, Vol. VIII (Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, 1981), 87.44. Elting E. Morison, Men, Machines, and Modern Times (Cambridge, MA: The

M.I.T. Press, 1966), 112–113.45. Alfred Thayer Mahan, From Sail to Steam: Recollections of Naval Life (New

York: Harper and Brothers, 1907), 39.46. Lance C. Buhl, “Mariners and Machines: Resistance to Technological Change

in the American Navy, 1865–1969,” Journal of American History 61 (December 1974),703–727.

47. Charles Oscar Paullin, Paullin’s History of Naval Administration (Annapolis, MD:Naval Institute Press, 1968), 319.

48. Edward L. Beach, The United States Navy, 200 Years (New York: Henry Holtand Co., 1986), 323–328; Dean C. Allard, “Benjamin Franklin Isherwood: Father of theModern Steam Navy,” in James C. Bradford, ed., Captains of the Old Steam Navy: Makersof the American Naval Tradition, 1840–1880 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1986).See also R. H. Thurston, “Benjamin F. Isherwood,” Cassier’s Magazine 18 (August 1900),344–352.

49. Paul A. C. Koistinen, Mobilizing for Modern War: The Political Economy ofAmerican Warfare, 1865–1919 (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1997), 21. Ithank Capt. Peter M. Swartz (USN, ret.) for referring me to Koistinen and other usefulsources.

50. Letter, Jan M. van Tol to Mark D. Mandeles, November 5, 2003.51. Peter M. Swartz, “Deployments, Innovation and Exercises,” in Sea Changes:

Transforming U.S. Navy Deployment Strategy: 1775–2002 (Alexandria: Center for NavalAnalyses, July 2002). My appreciation and thanks to Captain Swartz for correcting mymisconceptions about this period.

52. Julius A. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II (Wash-ington, DC: Naval Historical Division, 1959), 107.

53. Paul Y. Hammond, Organizing for Defense: The American Military Es-tablishment in the Twentieth Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,1961), 55.

54. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II, 108.

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112 notes

Chapter 3: The Future of Military Aviation between the Wars

1. George C. Marshall, “Our Mission in the Army,” in H. A. DeWeerd, ed., SelectedSpeeches and Statements of General of the Army George C. Marshall (Washington, DC:The Infantry Journal, 1945), 169. This quotation complements the 1957 interview Marshallgave to historian Forrest C. Pogue in which Marshall recalled speaking with an unnamedsenator who complained about the mistakes and money spent on maneuvers. Marshallreported that he responded: “My God, Senator, that’s the reason I do it. I want the mistakedown in Louisiana, not over in Europe, and the only way to do this thing is to try it out, andif it doesn’t work, find out what we need to make it work.” Pogue, George C. Marshall:Ordeal and Hope, 1939–1942 (New York: Viking Press, 1966), 89.

2. Bernard Brodie and Fawn Brodie, From Crossbow to H-Bomb (Bloomington, IN:Indiana University Press, 1973), 12.

3. Brodie and Brodie, From Crossbow to H-Bomb, 269.4. The author was an observer in a “limited objective experiment” conducted at Joint

Forces Command during the summer of 2001, and discussed the scheduling of events withJoint Forces Command personnel.

5. In December 2002, concept developers from each military service plus the com-manding generals of Homeland Security and Special Operations Command met—for thefirst time—with Maj. Gen. James M. Dubik, then-director of Joint Forces Command’sJoint Experiment Directorate. Michelle Montfort, “Experimentation Leaders Hold FirstMeeting,” http://www.jfcom.mil/newslink/storyarchive/2002/pa121102.htm, accessed De-cember 15, 2002. Yet, optimism about fruitful results flowing from Joint Forces Com-mand experiments did not last long. The experimentation program remains one in whichrhetoric about advances does not match accumulated and systematically organized knowl-edge.

6. U.S. JFCOM J9, Briefing, “Structure and Processes: A Blueprint for Change,”August 31, 2006.

7. Edward L. Beach, The United States Navy: 200 Years (New York: Henry Holt andCo., 1986), xix–xx. My thanks to Thomas C. Hone, who pointed out this passage fromBeach’s history.

8. Cited in Theodore von Karman, “Some Significant Developments in AerodynamicsSince 1946,” Journal of the Aero/Space Sciences 26 (March 1959), 130.

9. James R. Hansen, “Parametric Variation and the Experimental Impasse,” paperpresented at the Society for History of Technology, October 21, 1983; Alex Roland, ModelResearch (Washington, DC: NASA, 1985); Walter G. Vincenti, “The Air-Propeller Tests ofW. F. Durand and E. P. Lesley: A Case Study in Technological Methodology,” Technologyand Culture 20 (October 1979), 712–751.

10. For a fuller description of this period, see Thomas C. Hone, Norman Friedman,and Mark D. Mandeles, American and British Aircraft Carrier Development, 1919–1941(Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1999); see also Thomas C. Hone and Mark D.Mandeles, “Interwar Innovation in Three Navies: USN, RN, IJN,” Naval War CollegeReview 40 (Spring 1987), 63–83.

11. Norman Polmar, Aircraft Carriers: A Graphic History of Carrier Aviation and ItsInfluence on World Events (Garden City: Doubleday & Co., Inc., 1969), 2.

12. July 16, 1910.13. William F. Fullam, “Battleships and Air Power,” Sea Power 7 (December 1919),

276.

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14. John H. Morrow, Jr., The Great War in the Air: Military Aviation from 1909 to1921 (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993).

15. As historian Wayne Biddle observed, “a long history of bitter litigation betweenthe Wright and Curtiss interests made a friendly wartime union of their businesses [toproduce higher-performing military aircraft] out of the question.” Biddle, Barons of theSky (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991), 89. Bernard C. Nalty also notes the origin ofthe litigation between Curtiss and the Wright brothers. Nalty, ed., Winged Shield, WingedSword: A History of the United States Air Force, Vol. I: 1907–1950 (Washington, DC: AirForce History and Museums Program, 1997), 18.

16. Lee Kennett, The First Air War 1914–1918 (New York: The Free Press, 1991);Morrow, The Great War in the Air.

17. Polmar, Aircraft Carriers, 8–34.18. Hone, Friedman, and Mandeles, American and British Aircraft Carrier Develop-

ment, 24.19. For a theoretical description of the operation of a multiorganizational system, see

Martin Landau, “On Multi-Organizational Systems in Public Administration,” Journal ofPublic Administration Research and Theory 1 (1991); Mark D. Mandeles, The Developmentof the B-52 and Jet Propulsion: A Case Study in Organizational Innovation (Maxwell AirForce Base, AL: Air University Press, 1998), 41–42, 170–174.

20. I do not include the office of the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) in this mul-tiorganizational system. The CNOs, from Adm. William S. Benson (1915–1919) throughAdm. William V. Pratt (1930–1933), dealt primarily with issues related to the operationsof the Fleet and preparation of plans for the use of the Fleet in peace and war. Although theCNOs were ex officio members of the General Board—until Adm. William V. Pratt removedhimself from the board—they did not independently involve themselves in evaluating ar-guments about aviation technology or future operations. See David F. Trask, “WilliamShepherd Benson,” in Robert William Love, Jr., ed., The Chiefs of Naval Operations (An-napolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1980); Lawrence H. Douglas, “Robert Edward Coontz,”in Love, The Chiefs of Naval Operations; Richard W. Turk, “Edward Walter Eberle,” inLove, The Chiefs of Naval Operations; William R. Braisted, “Charles Frederick Hughes,”in Love, The Chiefs of Naval Operations; Craig L. Symonds, “William Veazie Pratt,” inLove, The Chiefs of Naval Operations.

21. “The Battleship is Still Paramount” [the General Board’s Report to Navy SecretaryDaniels], Sea Power 10 (April 1921), 188.

22. Ashbrook Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of AirPower,” Military Affairs (Fall 1951), 145.

23. Ibid., 146.24. For example, LT Clifford A. Tinker, “Separate Air Service Unwise,” Sea Power

8 (May 1920), 219.25. Fiorello H. La Guardia, The Making of an Insurgent, An Autobiography: 1882-

1919 (Philadelphia, PA: J. B. Lippincott, 1948), 159.26. Julius Augustus Furer (Rear Adm., ret.), Administration of the Navy Department

in World War II (Washington, DC: Naval Historical Division, 1959), 359.27. “Moves for Study of Future Warship,” The New York Times (January 26, 1921), 4;

Congressional Record—Senate, Proceedings and Debates of the Third Session of the 66thCongress, 2987–2995, 1921.

28. “Daniels Has Ordered Navy Board Report,” The New York Times (January 26,1921), 4; Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of Air Power,” 148.

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114 notes

29. “The Battleship is Still Paramount,” 187; “Says Navy’s Power is in Battleships,”The New York Times (February 4, 1921), 7; Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Riseof the Doctrine of Air Power,” 148

30. “The Battleship is Still Paramount,” 187.31. Ibid., 188.32. Ibid., 187.33. Ibid., 188–189.34. “Battleships Won War, Says Tirpitz,” The New York Times (February 18, 1921),

18; “Jellicoe for Capital Ship,” The New York Times (March 6, 1921), 7; “Lacaze FavorsBig Battleships,” The New York Times (March 30, 1921), 3; Capitaine de Vaisseau GabrielVoitoux, “Airplanes vs. Battleships in the World War,” Sea Power 10 (May 1921), 233;“The Next War at Sea” [editorial], The New York Times (March 31, 1921), 12.

35. Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of Air Power,”149.

36. “Harding Will Call Arms Conference,” The New York Times (February 5, 1921),1–2.

37. Cited in Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of AirPower,” 150.

38. “Urges Suspension of Naval Program,” The New York Times (February 20, 1921),19.

39. “Battleship Doomed, Says Admiral Sims,” The New York Times (February 20,1921), 19.

40. For example, “Torpedoplane and Battleship,” The New York Times (February 9,1921), 8. In the meantime, the British also were conducting bombing tests on battleships.“Bombs Sink Old Baden,” The New York Times (February 9, 1921), 2.

41. “Airmen Challenge Test with Big Ships,” The New York Times (February 7,1921), 1.

42. Members of the Board included Chief of Staff Major General Peyton C. March,Major General William G. Haan (director of Army Operations Division), Brigadier GeneralHenry Jervey (director of War Plans Division), Chief of Naval Operations Adm. R. E.Coontz, Rear Adm. J. H. Oliver (director of Naval Plans Division), and Capt. Benjamin F.Hutchison (assistant Chief of Naval Operations).

43. “To Sink Ex-German Warships in Tests,” The New York Times (March 1, 1921),17.

44. “Army Fliers Eager to Fight Warships,” The New York Times (March 13, 1921),16.

45. Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of Air Power,”151. On February 12, a joint resolution was introduced into the Senate directing the Navyto provide ships for bombing tests to the Army. “Asks Naval Ships for ‘Plane Targets,” TheNew York Times (February 13, 1921), 9.

46. William M. Gavin, “Second Thoughts on Bombing,” Sea Power 11 (July 1921),27–32.

47. “The Battleship is Still Paramount,” 188–189.48. Lincoln, “The United States Navy and the Rise of the Doctrine of Air Power,”

155–156.49. The other significant justification for establishing the Bureau of Aeronautics was

to reduce the time and negotiation costs encountered by the director of Naval Aviationseeking to get “anything done,” having to make requests through official channels to the

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other bureaus. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II, 359–362;William M. McBride, “Challenging a Strategic Paradigm: Aviation and the US SpecialPolicy Board of 1924,” The Journal of Strategic Studies 14 (1991), 74–75.

50. Distinguished historian Albert A. Nofi is writing a history of naval fleet exercisesconducted during the interwar period. He observes that the interchange and interactionamong the Fleet, the NWC, Bureau of Aeronautics were sometimes difficult; at times,“people behaved badly.” However, the twenty-one fleet problems examined between 1923and 1940 showed an increasing sophistication in the production of knowledge about theoperational complexity of waging war against Japan. See Albert A. Nofi, Briefing: “TheFleet Problems, 1923–1940: Naval Experimentation the Old Fashioned Way,” November26, 2002.

51. Burke Davis, The Billy Mitchell Affair (New York: Random House, 1967), 90.52. McBride, “Challenging a Strategic Paradigm,” 73; Jan M. van Tol, “Military

Innovation and Carrier Aviation—The Relevant History,” Joint Force Quarterly (Summer1997), 81.

53. McBride, “Challenging a Strategic Paradigm,” 79.54. Ibid., 82.55. Ibid., 76.56. Ibid., 78–79.57. H. H. Arnold, Global Mission (New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1949),

122.58. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II, 338–339.59. Thomas H. Greer, The Development of Air Doctrine in the Army Air Arm 1917–

1941 (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1985), 55–56.60. Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: Basic Thinking in the United

States Air Force 1907–1960, Vol. I (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1989), 62–65,68–69, 72, 77–79; William A. Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine and AAF Close Support inthe European Theater, 1944–1945,” Aerospace Historian (Spring 1980), 35–49; MichaelS. Sherry, The Rise of American Air Power: The Creation of Armageddon (New Haven,CT: Yale University Press, 1987), 50.

61. Similarly, Army leaders during the interwar period did not apply an experimentalapproach to the development of doctrine to exploit tanks and mechanization for maneuver.See Mandeles, The Development of the B-52, 34–37. There also is a growing literatureexamining the validity of the assumptions underlying the theory that long-range aerialbombardment of economic infrastructure could defeat modern industrial societies. SeeTami Davis Biddle, Rhetoric and Reality in Air Warfare (Princeton, NJ: Princeton UniversityPress, 2002).

62. Jeffrey S. Underwood, The Wings of Democracy: The Influence of Air Power onthe Roosevelt Administration, 1933–1941 (College Station, TX: Texas A & M UniversityPress, 1991), chapter 2.

63. John F. Shiner, Foulois and the U.S. Army Air Corps, 1931–1935 (Washington,DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 34–35, 40.

64. Claire Chennault, Way of a Fighter: The Memoirs of Claire Lee Chennault (NewYork: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1949), 22.

65. John Ferris, “Fighter Defence before Fighter Command: The Rise of StrategicAir Defence in Great Britain, 1917–1934,” Journal of Military History 63 (October 1999),883–884.

66. Arnold, Global Mission, 140–141.

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116 notes

67. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, The Army Air Forces in World War II,Vol. I: Plans and Early Operations January 1939 to August 1942 (Washington, DC: Officeof Air Force History, 1983), 64–65; Greer, The Development of Air Doctrine in the ArmyAir Arm 1917–1941, 58–60; Underwood, The Wings of Democracy, 35–36, 187.

68. William L. Riordan, Plunkitt of Tammany Hall (New York: E. P. Dutton & Co.,Inc., 1963), ix. The exact quotation is, “I seen my opportunities and I took ‘em.”

69. Chennault, Way of a Fighter, 23.70. Underwood, The Wings of Democracy, chapter 1.71. Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine, 80.72. James S. Corum, “The Spanish Civil War: Lessons Learned and Not Learned by

the Great Powers,” Journal of Military History 62 (April 1998), 313–334.73. Sherry, Rise of American Air Power, 34–37, 48; Walter Millis, Arms and Men: A

Study in American Military History (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1984),255–256; Nalty, Winged Shield, Winged Sword, 96–100.

74. Underwood, The Wings of Democracy, 88–91.75. James P. Tate, The Army and Its Air Corps: Army Policy Toward Aviation, 1919–

1941 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1998).76. Edgar F. Raines, Jr., “Disaster off Casablanca: Air Outposts in Operation Torch

and the Role of Failure in Institutional Innovation,” Air Power History 49 (Fall 2002), 23.77. Note that Brig. Gen. William Mitchell lobbied against the establishment of the

Bureau of Aeronautics.78. See Jacob A. Stockfisch, Innovation and Anglo-American Air Power: A Cost-

Effectiveness Approach, unpublished manuscript, n.d.; Underwood, The Wings of Democ-racy, 36; Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine and AAF Close Support,” 37–38.

79. Craven and Cate, The Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. I: Plans and EarlyOperations January 1939 to August 1942, 17–71; see also Maurer Maurer, Aviation inthe U.S. Army 1919–1939 (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1987); Raines,“Disaster off Casablanca”; Christopher R. Gabel, The U.S. Army GHQ Maneuvers of 1941(Washington, DC: Center of Military History, 1992).

80. Lee Kennett, “Developments to 1939,” in B. F. Cooling, ed., Case Studies in theDevelopment of Close Air Support (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1990),42–56, especially 46; Daniel R. Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations: World War IIClose Air Support, North Africa (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History & U.S.Army Center of Military History, 1987), 6–9; Greer, The Development of Air Doctrine inthe Army Air Arm; Raines, “Disaster off Casablanca.”

81. Kent R. Greenfield, Robert R. Palmer, and Bell I. Wiley, The Organization ofGround Combat Troops (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1947), 101–104.

82. Greenfield, Palmer, and Wiley, Organization of Ground Combat Troops, 271–276.83. Kent Robert Greenfield, American Strategy in World War II: A Reconsideration

(Malabar, FL: Robert E. Krieger Publishing Co., 1982), 103; Stockfisch, Innovation andAnglo-American Air Power.

84. Kent Roberts Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle TeamIncluding Organic Light Aviation (Washington, DC: Historical Section, Army GroundForces, 1948).

85. Greenfield, American Strategy in World War II, 102.86. Greenfield, American Strategy in World War II, 105–06; Stockfisch, Innovation

and Anglo-American Air Power.87. Cited in Walter Millis, Arms and Men, 257.

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88. Chennault, Way of a Fighter, 24.89. Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle Team.

Chapter 4: Learning to Conduct Amphibious Landings

1. John Masefield, Gallipoli (New York: Macmillan Company, 1917), 23–24.2. Robert H. Dunlap (Col., USMC), “Lessons for Marines from the Gallipoli Cam-

paign,” The Marine Corps Gazette 6 (September 1921), 238.3. Historian Adrian R. Lewis dissects and exposes the many doctrinal and planning

flaws in the Normandy invasion, which was successful—at great cost in blood—primarilybecause of improvisation by sailors and soldiers in combat. Lewis, Omaha Beach: A FlawedVictory (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001).

4. Holland M. Smith, “The Development of Amphibious Tactics in the U.S. Navy,”Marine Corps Gazette 30 (June 1946), 14.

5. Holland M. Smith and Percy Finch, Coral and Brass (New York: Ace Books,1949), 21. It is well known that Coral and Brass was reviewed by Col. Robert Heinland Robert Sherrod before publication. Heinl and Sherrod found factual errors and someincendiary comments about Navy and Army military leaders. Smith refused to correct theerrors or soften some of his harsh judgments. Nevertheless, Coral and Brass contains usefuland correct historical information about the development of amphibious doctrine. Personalcommunication from Benis M. Frank, former USMC Chief Historian, January 13, 2006.

6. Norman Friedman, U.S. Amphibious Ships and Craft: An Illustrated Design History(Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2002), 17.

7. Alfred Vagts, Landing Operations: Strategy, Psychology, Tactics, Politics, FromAntiquity to 1945 (Harrisburg, PA: Military Service Publishing Co., 1952).

8. L. H. Landon, “The Bayeux Tapestry,” The Journal of the Royal Artillery (July1949), 218–226. Executed between 1066 and 1077, the embroidery is 19 inches wide andmore than 230 feet long. There are seventy-nine scenes, accompanied by Latin text, andarranged like a strip cartoon. The scenes tell the story of the Norman conquest and eventspreceding it.

9. Jeter A. Isely and Philip A. Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious War: ItsTheory, and Its Practice in the Pacific (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1951),4; Victor H. Krulak, First to Fight (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1999), 72–73.

10. Krulak, First to Fight, 73.11. The Treaty was signed on February 6, 1922. See Henry Steele Commager, ed.,

Documents of American History, 8th ed. (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1968),181–183; Edward S. Miller, War Plan Orange: The U.S. Strategy to Defeat Japan, 1897–1945 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1991), 75; Allan R. Millett, “Assault from theSea, the Development of Amphibious Assault between the Wars,” in Allan R. Millett andWilliamson Murray, eds., Innovation in the Interwar Period (Washington, DC: OSD/NA,June 1994), 68; Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 73.

12. Edward J. Erickson, “Strength against Weakness: Ottoman Military Effectivenessat Gallipoli, 1915,” The Journal of Military History 65 (October 2001), 982. Liman vonSanders, a German officer serving with the Turks, anticipated the approximate date ofAllied landings on Gallipoli and the numbers and composition of troops. Timothy H. E.Travers, “Liman von Sanders, the Capture of Lieutenant Palmer, and Ottoman Anticipationof the Allied Landings at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915,” The Journal of Military History 65(October 2001), 965–979.

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118 notes

13. David Lloyd George, War Memoirs, Vol. I (London: Oldhams Press, Ltd., 1938),v–vi.

14. Timothy H. E. Travers, “When Technology and Tactics Fail: Gallipoli 1915,” inStephen D. Chiabotti, ed., Tooling for War: Military Transformation in the Industrial Age(Chicago, IL: Imprint Publications, 1996), 116.

15. Travers, “When Technology and Tactics Fail,” 97–98.16. The shell shortage was not peculiar to the Gallipoli campaign. It is one example of

a general failure of analysis conducted at senior levels of the British government. There arenumerous discussions of this period. See, for example, A. J. P. Taylor, The First World War(New York: Perigee Books, 1980), 84–87. See also Lloyd George, War Memoirs, 83–85.

17. Millett, “Assault from the Sea, the Development of Amphibious Assault betweenthe Wars,” 71.

18. Richard Harding, “Learning from the War: The Development of British Am-phibious Capability, 1919–1929,” The Mariner’s Mirror 86 (May 2000), 173–174. Thecontemporary explanation for the loss of British 1/5 Norfolk Battalion is “disorganiza-tion,” that is, “poor staff work, inefficient commanders, and communication problems.”Tim Travers and Birten Celik, “‘Not one of them ever came back’: What Happened to the1/5 Norfolk Battalion on 12 August 1915 at Gallipoli?” The Journal of Military History 66(April 2002), 406. These organizational factors also explain earlier British debacles in am-phibious assault. See, for example, Thomas M. Barker, “A Debacle of the Peninsular War:The British-Led Amphibious Assault against Fort Fuengirola,” The Journal of MilitaryHistory 64 (January 2000), 9–52.

19. Travers, “When Technology and Tactics Fail,” 114.20. Jean de Bloch, “The Transvaal War: Its Lessons in Regard to Militarism and

Army Re-organization. I” Journal of the Royal United Service Institute 45 (November1901), 1316–1344; Jean de Bloch, “The Transvaal War: Its Lessons in Regard to Militarismand Army Re-organization. II” Journal of the Royal United Service Institute 45 (December1901), 1141–1451; see also Mark D. Mandeles, The Future of War: Organizations asWeapons (Dulles, VA: Potomac Books, Inc., 2005), chapter 3.

21. Franklyn A. Johnson, “The British Committee of Imperial Defence: Prototype ofU.S. Security Organization,” Journal of Politics 23 (May 1961), 238–239.

22. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 72. Millett does not cite any official Britishmilitary analyses of the campaign. The Gallipoli campaign analyses he cites include:Masefield, Gallipoli; C. E. W. Bean, The Story of Anzac, 2 vols. (St. Lucia: University ofQueensland Press, 1981, originally1921, 1924); and William D. Puleston, The DardanellesExpedition (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1927).

23. Isely and Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious War, 5.24. My thanks to Thomas C. Hone for this insight.25. Harding, “Learning from the War,” 174; David MacGregor, “The Use, Misuse,

and Non-Use of History: The Royal Navy and the Operational Lessons of the First WorldWar,” The Journal of Military History 56 (October 1992), 606.

26. MacGregor, “The Use, Misuse, and Non-Use of History,” 608.27. Donald F. Bittner, “Britannia’s Sheathed Sword: The Royal Marines and Am-

phibious Warfare in the Interwar Years—A Passive Response,” Journal of Military History55 (July 1991), 348.

28. Johnson, “The British Committee of Imperial Defence,” 233–235.29. Right Honourable Lord [Maurice Pascal Alers] Hankey, Government Control in

War (Cambridge: The University Press, 1945), 55–57.

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30. Sir Ivor Jennings, Cabinet Government, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-sity Press, 1951), chapter 10; Sir David Lindsay Keir, The Constitutional History of ModernBritain Since 1945 (Princeton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand Co., 1960), 501–505.

31. Sometimes a novelist captures a social situation better than any survey or sociolog-ical tract. British writer C. S. Forester described the Duke, his protagonist Herbert Curzon’sfather-in-law, as someone who wore medals and awards “no mere general could ever hope toattain, and possessed the further recommendation (as had frequently been pointed out) thatthere was no ‘damned nonsense about merit’ attached to them. The Duke’s ribbons and starswere given him, if a reason must be assigned, because his great-great-great-grandfather hadcome over in the train of William of Orange.” Forester, The General (New York: Bantam,1967), 64.

32. Hugh Heclo and Aaron Wildavsky, The Private Government of Public Money:Community and Policy inside British Politics (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press,1974), xvi.

33. Herman Finer, “The British Cabinet, The House of Commons and the War,”Political Science Quarterly 56 (September 1941), 327.

34. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 83.35. For a discussion of the bureaucratic interplay between the military services and the

Treasury between 1919 and 1924, see John Ferris, “Treasury Control, the Ten Year Ruleand British Service Policies, 1919–1924,” The Historical Journal 30 (December 1987),859–883.

36. Johnson, “The British Committee of Imperial Defence,” 249, 244.37. Kenneth J. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America

from 1920–1940 (Laurens, NY: Edgewood, Inc., 1983), 1.38. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 83, 74–75.39. Ibid., 84; Harding, “Learning from the War,” 176.40. Bittner, “Britannia’s Sheathed Sword,” 355.41. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 85–86; MacGregor, “The Use, Misuse, and Non-

Use of History,” 606; Harding, “Learning From the War,” 178.42. Cited in Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 11.43. Ibid., 16; Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 86–87.44. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 4.45. Harding, “Learning From the War,” 184.46. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 57.47. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 88–89; Harding, “Learning From the War,” 173.48. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 46–84; Mil-

lett, “Assault from the Sea,” 90.49. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 91; MacGregor, “The Use, Misuse, and Non-Use

of History,” 614; Bittner, “Britannia’s Sheathed Sword,” 351.50. MacGregor, “The Use, Misuse, and Non-Use of History,” 607–608, 611, 613.

MacGregor’s “suspect assumptions” played a large role in planning for the Normandyinvasion and were key factors in what could have been a colossal failure. See Lewis,Omaha Beach.

51. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 91.52. Correlli Barnett, Engage the Enemy More Closely (New York: W. W. Norton,

1991), 542. My thanks to Thomas C. Hone for pointing out this passage.53. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 72–84; Mil-

lett, “Assault from the Sea,” 91.

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120 notes

54. Bittner, “Britannia’s Sheathed Sword,” 362.55. Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 58.56. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 129.57. George C. Marshall, “We Know What We Are Doing,” Selected Speeches and

Statements of General of the Army George C. Marshall (Washington, DC: The InfantryJournal, 1945), 221.

58. Jack Shulimson, The Marine Corps’ Search for a Mission (Lawrence: UniversityPress of Kansas, 1993), 204; Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 17.

59. Shulimson, The Marine Corps’ Search for a Mission, 89, 206–207.60. Ibid., 207.61. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 27.62. Julius Augustus Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II

(Washington, DC: U.S. GPO, 1959), 548–550.63. Shulimson, The Marine Corps’ Search for a Mission, 208; Allan R. Millett,

Semper Fidelis: The History of the United States Marine Corps (New York: The Free Press,1991), 270–71.

64. Raymond G. O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century: AmphibiousWarfare ad Doctrinal Debates,” Military Affairs 38 (October 1974), 97–103; Friedman,U.S. Amphibious Ships and Craft, 3.

65. The Marine Corps was not alone in analyzing the Gallipoli debacle and seeking todevelop the means and doctrine to avoid the British errors. The Spanish military explicitlysought to avoid British errors at Gallipoli in its campaign against Moroccan rebels. Thesuccessful 1925 amphibious assault at Alhucemas Bay, in cooperation with the French fleet,showed attention to planning, combined arms coordination and organization, appropriatetraining and suitable landing craft, and competent military leadership. Jose E. Alvarez,“Between Gallipoli and D-Day: Alhucemas, 1925,” The Journal of Military History 63(January 1999), 75–98.

66. Millett, Semper Fidelis, 285.67. Personal communication with Dr. Donald F. Bittner, 10 October 2001; Millett,

Semper Fidelis, 270–286; Edward S. Miller, War Plan Orange: The U.S. Strategy to DefeatJapan, 1897–1945 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1991).

68. Paragraph (7), Section 1—General Instructions Part 552, Chapter 16—MarineCorps, U.S. Navy Regulations (Washington, DC: GPO, 1920), 174, lists five duties per-formed by the Marine Corps, when so directed by the Secretary of the Navy: (a) to furnishorganizations for duty afloat, (b) to garrison the different Navy yards and naval stations, (c)to furnish the front line of the mobile defenses of naval bases and naval stations beyond thecontinental limits of the united States, (d) to man such naval defenses . . . as may be erectedfor the defense of naval bases and naval stations beyond the continental limits of the UnitedStates, and (e) to furnish such garrisons and expeditionary forces for duties beyond the seasas may be necessary in time of peace. My thanks to Thomas C. Hone for pointing out thisreference.

69. Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 57.70. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 104.71. Millett, Semper Fidelis, 284–285.72. Cited in A. A. Vandegrift, as told to Robert B. Asprey, Once a Marine (New York:

Ballantine Books, 1964), 60; Isely and Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious Warfare,26.

73. John J. Reber, “Pete Ellis: Amphibious Warfare Prophet,” U.S. Naval InstituteProceedings 103 (November 1977); Krulak, First to Fight, 76–77.

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74. Reber, “Pete Ellis: Amphibious Warfare Prophet,” 54; Vandegrift, Once a Marine,61.

75. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 105; Krulak, First to Fight, 75.76. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II, 549.77. Dunlap, “Lessons for Marines from the Gallipoli Campaign,” 238.78. Ibid., 241, 242, 244, 246, 249, 252.79. O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 100.80. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 108.81. Cited in O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 100.82. For example, John A. Lejeune, “The United States Marine Corps,” Marine Corps

Gazette 8 (December 1924), 243–255; John A. Lejeune, “The United States Marine Corps,”U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 51 (October 1925), 1,858–1,870; John A. Lejeune, “TheMarine Corps, 1926,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 52 (October 1926), 1,961–1,969;John A. Lejeune, “The U.S. Marine Corps, Present and Future,” U.S. Naval InstituteProceedings 54 (October 1928), 859–861.

83. Dion Williams, “The Winter Manœuvres of 1924, Problem No. 4,” Marine CorpsGazette 9 (March 1924), 1–27.

84. Lejeune, “The United States Marine Corps,” (December 1924), 251–252.85. Cited in Raymond G. O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 100.86. E. W. Broadbent, “The Fleet and the Marines,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings

57 (March 1931), 370.87. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 108–109.88. Millett, Semper Fidelis, 326.89. This work on amphibious operations was paralleled by an effort to develop a

doctrine of small wars. Much of the doctrine development process between 1910 and theearly 1920s was informal; the musings and arguments were spread through professionalliterature (e.g., in the Marine Corps Gazette). In the 1930s, small wars doctrine wasformalized at the Marine Corps Schools—in much the same way as amphibious operationsdoctrine—in the creation of the Manual of Small Wars Operations. See Keith B. Bickel,Mars Learning: The Marine Corps’ Development of Small Wars Doctrine, 1915–1940(Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2001).

90. Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 69.91. Broadbent, “The Fleet and the Marines,” 370.92. Cited in Millett, Semper Fidelis, 328.93. Millett, Semper Fidelis, 329–330.94. Jeter A. Isley and Philip A. Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious War in the

Pacific (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1951), 36. My thanks to Brian McCuefor directing me to this passage.

95. Eli K. Cole, “Joint Overseas Operations,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 55(November 1929), 927.

96. Broadbent, “The Fleet and the Marines,” 372.97. Krulak, First to Fight, 80.98. Cited in O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 100.99. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 110; Krulak, First to Fight, 81.100. O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 100–101.101. John J. Russell, “The Birth of the FMF,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 72

(January 1946), 51; Krulak, First to Fight, 82.102. Russell, “The Birth of the FMF,” 51.103. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 112.

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104. Furer, Administration of the Navy Department in World War II, 549–550.105. Isely and Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious War, 36.106. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 112–113.107. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 111; Smith and Finch, Coral and Brass, 75.108. Clifford, Amphibious Warfare Development in Britain and America, 144–159;

Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 135; Millett, Semper Fidelis, 332–333; Krulak, First toFight, 84.

109. Smith, “The Development of Amphibious Tactics in the U.S. Navy,” 15.110. Krulak, First to Fight, 86–87.111. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 82–83.112. O’Connor, “The U.S. Marines in the 20 [sic] Century,” 101.113. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 107.114. The major organizational successes of World War II administration reiterate this

conclusion; problems and solutions became clearer over time through interaction. See, forexample, William H. Newman, “Government-Industry Cooperation That Works,” PublicAdministration Review 6 (Summer 1946), 240–246; Chester C. Wardlow, “Wartime Coop-eration between the Army and the Railroads,” Public Administration Review 6 (Summer1946), 249–260; Ray Miller. “Evolution of a Wartime Procedure Manual,” Public Admin-istration Review 6 (Summer 1946), 228–234.

115. Aaron Wildavsky, “The Self-Evaluating Organization,” Public AdministrationReview 32 (September/October 1972), 509–520; Martin Landau, “On the Concept of aSelf-Correcting Organization,” Public Administration Review 33 (November/December1973), 533–542; Mark D. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion:A Case Study in Organization Innovation (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press,1998), 41.

116. Keith B. Bickel describes the complex political relationship between proponentsof expeditionary duty (i.e., those conducting “small wars”) and the proponents of amphibi-ous assault during the mid-1930s. Although Bickel does not use the term, it appears thatthe small wars community also was enabled by a multi-organizational system. See Chap-ter 6 of Mars Learning.

117. Millett, “Assault from the Sea,” 114.118. Smith, “The Development of Amphibious Tactics in the U.S. Navy,” 16.119. Cited in Isely and Crowl, The U.S. Marines and Amphibious War, 4.

Chapter 5: Cooperative Engagement Capability

1. T. R. Fehrenbach, This Kind of War: A Study of Unpreparedness (New York:Pocket Books, Inc., 1964), 472. I am indebted to Daniel Jacobowitz for referring me to thispassage.

2. Raizo Tanaka (Vice Admiral, ret.), “Japan’s Losing Struggle for Guadalcanal, PartII,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 82 (August 1956), 831. My thanks to Cdr. John T.Kuehn (USN, ret.) for this citation.

3. Herbert A. Simon, “Strategy and Organizational Evolution,” Strategic ManagementJournal 14 (Special Winter Issue, 1993), 134.

4. A bibliographic search for CEC of 238,782 CNA records conducted on February14, 2003 found only eleven items. Of these items, two were cost and operational effec-tiveness analyses, and one was a program life-cycle cost estimate. Six studies focused onother weapons or technologies, e.g., AEW surveillance command and control, budgets for

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UAV communications, naval strategy for C4I interoperability with allies, Aegis detectionand tracking performance. I thank Capt. Peter M. Swartz (USN, ret.) for supplying thisinformation.

5. Personal communications between the author and various Naval Historical Centerhistorians in February and March 2003.

6. Searches of the U.S. GAO internet site (www.gao.gov) were conducted varioustimes, most recently in January 2007. Key search words included “cooperative engagementcapability,” “Navy,” and “air defense.” CEC received a two-page review in the March2005 report, “Defense Acquisitions: Assessments of Selected Major Weapon Programs,”GAO-05-301.

7. See www.cbo.gov.8. See www.fas.org.9. See www.house.gov/markgreen/crs.htm.10. See fpc.state.gov/c4763.htm.11. Ronald O’Rourke, “Navy Network-Centric Warfare Concept: Key Programs and

Issues for Congress,” RS20557 (Washington, DC: CRS, May 31, 2005); Ronald O’Rourke,“Navy DDG-1000 (DD[X], CG(X), and LCS Ship Acquisition Programs: Oversight Is-sues and Options for Congress,” RL32109 (Washington, DC: CRS, July 26, 2006); RonaldO’Rourke, “Naval Transformation: Background and issues for Congress,” RS20851 (Wash-ington, DC: CRS, January 17, 2006).

12. U.S. Navy, Program Executive Office, PMS 465 (Theater Surface Combatants),Cooperative Engagement Capability: Leading the Revolution in Joint Theater Air andMissile Defense, n.d; Daniel E. Busch, “A True Single Integrated Air Picture: The Navy’sCooperative Engagement Capability Program,” Sea Power (March 2002).

13. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Lt. Cdr. Doug Kunzman, Office of Commander,NAVSEA, March 9, 2003. For a discussion of the impact of command, control, computers,communications, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance equipment on the ability ofindividuals to calculate and compute options, see Mark D. Mandeles, The Future of War:Organizations as Weapons (Dulles, VA: Potomac Books, Inc., 2005).

14. Anon., “The Cooperative Engagement Capability,” Johns Hopkins APL TechnicalDigest 16 (October–December 1995), 377–396; Conrad J. Grant, “CEC: Sensor Nettingwith Integrated Fire Control,” Johns Hopkins APL Technical Digest 23 (April–September2002), 149–161; W. G. Bath, “Trade-Offs in Sensor Networking,” Johns Hopkins APLTechnical Digest 23 (April–September 2002), 162–171; C. J. Duhon, “Tactical Decision Aidfor CEC Engage on Remote,” Johns Hopkins APL Technical Digest 23 (April–September2002), 202–208.

15. John von Neumann, “Probabilistic Logics and the Synthesis of Reliable Organismsfrom Unreliable Components,” in Claude E. Shannon and John McCarthy, eds., AutomataStudies (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1956).

16. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Operational Test and Evaluation, FY 2002Annual Report (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, n.d.), 153.

17. Thomas C. Hone, “The Program Manager as Entrepreneur: Aegis and Rear Adm.Wayne Meyer,” Defense Analysis 3 (1987), 197.

18. Edward P. Lee, Robert T. Lundy, and Jerry A. Krill, “History of BGAAWC/FACT:Knitting the Battle Force for Air Defense,” Johns Hopkins APL Technical Digest 23 (April–September 2002), 117.

19. See Hone, “The Program Manager as Entrepreneur,” for an analysis of the originof the Aegis program.

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20. Robert T. Lundy, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability Team,” APL TechnicalReview 4 (1993), 10.

21. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with APL staff, April 14, 2003.22. William G. Bath, Jerry A. Krill, Robert T. Lundy, and William H. Zinger, “The

Cooperative Engagement Capability—An Overview (U),” APL Technical Review 4 (1993),24. [The information in this paragraph is unclassified.]

23. Lee, Lundy, and Krill, “History of BGAAWC/FACT: Knitting the Battle Forcefor Air Defense,” 118.

24. Lee, Lundy, and Krill, “History of BGAAWC/FACT: Knitting the Battle Force forAir Defense,” 118; Anon., “The Cooperative Engagement Capability,” 383; Grant, “CEC:Sensor Netting with Integrated Fire Control,” 161.

25. The role and duties of the “technical direction agent” are specified in NavalSea Systems Command Instruction (NAVSEAINST) 5400.57 (dated June 28, 1978).NAVSEAINST 5400.57A was revised and approved on December 6, 1985, and a furtherrevision was under consideration as recently as 1998.

26. APL also was the technical direction agent for the BGAAWC’s predecessor,the “Navy Air Defense Coordination Exploratory Development Program.” Anon., “TheCooperative Engagement Capability,” 383.

27. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with APL staff, April 14, 2003.28. Bath, Krill, Lundy, and Zinger, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability—An

Overview (U),” 41. [The information in this paragraph is unclassified.]29. Michael J. O’Driscoll, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability Program Today,”

APL Technical Review (1993), 8.30. Grant, “CEC : Sensor Netting with Integrated Fire Control,” 161.31. O’Driscoll, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability Program Today,” 8.32. In July 1990, the Demo 90 was called Milestone 90.33. Ronald E. Hall and Norbert E. White, “The Systems Engineering Process for the

Cooperative Engagement Capability,” APL Technical Review 4 (1993), 14.34. Busch, “A True Single Integrated Air Picture”; Hall and White, “The Systems

Engineering Process for the Cooperative Engagement Capability,” 14.35. O’Driscoll, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability Program Today,” 8; Anon,

“The Cooperative Engagement Capability,” 383.36. O’Driscoll, “The Cooperative Engagement Capability Program Today,” 8.37. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with APL staff, April 14, 2003.38. Hall and White, “The Systems Engineering Process for the Cooperative Engage-

ment Capability,” 14; Busch, “A True Single Integrated Air Picture.”39. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Vice Adm. Phillip M. Balisle, commander,

Naval Sea Systems Command, May 9, 2003.40. Grant, “Sensor Netting with Integrated Fire Control,” 157.41. Thomas C. Hone, Norman Friedman, and Mark D. Mandeles, American and

British Aircraft Carrier Development, 1919–1941 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press,1999), 178.

42. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Operational Test & Evaluation, “Cooper-ative Engagement Capability,” in FY98 Annual Report.

43. U.S. Department of Defense Directive 5000.1, The Defense Acquisition System,May 12, 2003; U.S. Department of Defense Instruction 5000.2, Operation of the DefenseAcquisition System, May 12, 2003.

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44. Michael J. O’Driscoll and William H. Zinger, “The Cooperative EngagementCapability: A Recent Mountain Top Experiment,” May 1996, unpublished paper; D. Smithand Laurel Curley, “Battle Force Interoperability: From the ‘Mountain’ to the Fleet,”Surface Warfare (November/December 1999).

45. Daniel Busch and Conrad J. Grant, “Changing the Face of War,” Sea Power 43(March 2000), 39.

46. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Operational Test and Evaluation, FY 2002Annual Report (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, n.d.), 153.

47. Busch and Grant, “Changing the Face of War,” 39.48. At the time, Navy officials combat system thought that the Advanced Combat

Direction System Block 1 would be used on future aircraft carriers and amphibious assaultships. Busch and Grant, “Changing the Face of War,” 39.

49. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with APL staff, April 14, 2003.50. The 1996 version of Department of Defense Directive (DoDD) 5000.1, Defense

Acquisition, and Department of Defense Instruction (DoDI) 5000.2, Mandatory Proceduresfor Major Acquisition Programs (MDAPs) and Major Automated Information System Ac-quisition Programs (MAISAPs), provide criteria for designating an acquisition program intovarious acquisition categories. Selection criteria for an Acquisition Category 1D programinclude the expenditure of at least $355 million (in Fiscal Year 1996 constant dollars) onresearch, development, test and evaluation, or the expenditure of at least $2.135 billion(in Fiscal Year 1996 constant dollars) on procurement, or being designated as such by theUnder Secretary of Defense for Acquisition and Technology. The current versions of DoDD5000.1 and DoDI 5000.2, dated May 12, 2003, raise the dollar threshold for assignment toACAT 1D, but the generic criteria remain unchanged for designating a particular programto the ACAT 1 category.

51. Briefing, David A. Goldberg, DEP Project Manager, NAVSEA, “The DistributedEngineering Plant,” to the Information Superiority Working Group, December 10, 2003;Briefing, George J. Rumford, JDEP Program Office, Defense Information Systems Agency,“Joint Distributed Engineering Plant (JDEP),” to the Information Superiority WorkingGroup, January 7, 2004.

52. Busch and Grant, “Changing the Face of War,” 39; Busch, “A True Single Inte-grated Air Picture.”

53. See Martin Landau, “On the Concept of a Self-Correcting Organization,” PublicAdministration Review 33 (November/December 1973), 539–542.

54. Ann Roosevelt, “Army Testers Link Up for Future FCS Testing,” Defense Daily(January 24, 2006).

55. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Office of Operational Test and Evaluation,“Cooperative Engagement Capability (CEC),” in FY2001 Annual Report.

56. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Office of Operational Test and Evaluation,“Cooperative Engagement Capability (CEC),” in FY2002 Annual Report.

57. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Operational Test and Evaluation, FY 2002Annual Report (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, n.d.), 153; Sandra I. Erwin,“Stakes are High in Competition for Naval Air-Defense Program,” National Defense (May2001).

58. APL Press Release, “APL-Developed DoD Capability Approved for Productionand Deployment,” June 24, 2002.

59. O’Rourke, “Navy Network-Centric Warfare Concept,” (May 31, 2005), 1–2.

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60. U.S. GAO, “Defense Acquisitions: Assessments of Selected Major Weapon Pro-grams,” GAO-055-301, March 2005, 39–40.

61. Ibid., 40.62. O’Rourke, “Navy DDG-1000 (DD[X]). CG(X), and LCS Ship Acquisition,” 2–3.63. U.S. Navy, Program Executive Office/Integrated Warfare Systems, “Coopera-

tive Ebgagement Capability,” n.d. (circa 2006); Richard C. Barnard, “Single IntegratedAir Picture Holds the Key to Navy’s Net Centric Plans,” Sea Power (March 2004),http://www.navyleague.org/sea power/mar 04 18.php, accessed July 12, 2006; SIAP Sys-tem Engineering Task, “Single Integrated Air Picture (SIAP) Progress, Plans, and Rec-ommendations,” Technical Report 2002-004, April 2004; Harry Dutchyshyn, Briefing:“Implementing the JBMC2 Roadmap, A JSSEO Perspective,” March 23, 2005.

64. O’Rourke, “Navy Network-Centric Warfare Concept,” (May 31, 2005), 2.65. O’Rourke, “Navy Network-Centric Warfare Concept,” (June 3, 2002), 3–5; Terry

C. Pierce, “Sunk Costs Sink Innovation,” Proceedings 128 (May 2002), 32–35.66. U.S. Department of Defense, Director, Operational Test and Evaluation, “Coop-

erative Engagement Capability (CEC),” in FY 2001 Annual Report.67. William G. Bath and Jerry A. Krill, “Future Directions of the Cooperative En-

gagement Capability Program (U),” APL Technical Review 4 (1993), 238. [The informationsummarized in this paragraph is unclassified.]

68. Phil Balisle and Tom Bush, “CEC Provides Theater Air Dominance,” U.S. NavalInstitute Proceedings 128 (May 2002), 62; see also Brendan P. Rivers and Michael Puttre,“Victory at CEC,” Journal of Electronic Defense 24 (September 2001), 44.

69. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Vice Adm. Phillip M. Balisle, May 9, 2003.

Chapter 6: Conclusion

1. Martin Landau, “Foreword,” in Edward Bryan Portis and Michael B. Levy, eds.,Handbook of Political Theory and Policy Science (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988),viii, ix.

2. The title character for the “Private Snafu” animated shorts was created by directorFrank Capra, chairman of the Armed Forces Motion Picture Unit; the Warner Broth-ers animation studio directed the films. Some of the shorts were written by Theodor“Dr. Seuss” Geisel. The Private Snafu shorts are entertaining and educational; they demon-strate what not to do while at war, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Private Snafu, accessedOctober 6, 2006.

3. For example, W. K. Hancock and M. M. Gowing, British War Economy (London:HMSO, 1949); U.S. Department of Agriculture, What We Learned in Public Administrationduring the War (Washington, DC: Graduate School, U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1949);David B. Truman, “The Lessons of War Administration,” Public Administration Review 7(Autumn 1947), 268–275; Harvey C. Mansfield, “The Uses of History,” Public Adminis-tration Review 11 (Winter 1951), 51–57; Ely Devons, Planning in Practice (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1950). In addition, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and MarineCorps histories contain descriptions of the difficulties of coordination.

4. Herman Finer, “The British Cabinet, the House of Commons and the War,” PoliticalScience Quarterly 56 (September 1941), 321.

5. Hancock and Gowing, British War Economy, 88.6. In this context, the view of philosophers about interaction is interesting. Regarding

the recruitment of John Hawthorne, Ted Sider, and Dean Zimmerman—three promising

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philosophers—to Rutgers University from Syracuse University, Hawthorne explains, “Phi-losophy remains a field where the best work gets done by people interacting in person.”Robert McGarvey, “The Master Minds,” Rutgers Magazine 82 (Winter 2003), 43.

7. Harvey M. Sapolsky, The Polaris System Development: Bureaucratic and Pro-grammatic Success in Government (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1972),106.

8. Thomas K. Glennan, Jr., Policies for Military Research and Development, P-3253(Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, November 1965); Albert O. Hirschman andCharles E. Lindblom, “Economic Development, Research and Development, PolicyMaking: Some Converging Views,” Behavioral Science 7 (April 1962), 211–222; BurtonH. Klein, What’s Wrong with Military R and D?, P-1267 (Santa Monica, CA: RANDCorporation, 1958); Klein, The Decision-Making Problem in Development, P-1916 (SantaMonica, CA: RAND Corporation, 1960); Klein, Policy Issues Involved in the Conduct ofMilitary Development Programs, P-2648 (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, October1962); Klein and William Meckling, “Applications of Operations Research to DevelopmentDecisions,” Operations Research 6 (May–June 1958), 352–363; Klein, Mecklng, and E. G.Mesthene, The Nature and Function of Military R&D, P-2147 (Santa Monica, CA: RANDCorporation, November 1960); Klein, Thomas K. Glennan, Jr., and G. H. Shubert, The Roleof Prototypes in Development, RM-3467/1-PR (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation,April 1971); Thomas A. Marschak, “Strategy and Organization in a System DevelopmentProject,” in Universities-National Bureau Committee for Economic Research, The Rateand Direction of Inventive Activity: Economic and Social Factors (Princeton, NJ: PrincetonUniversity Press, 1962); Andrew W. Marshall and William H. Meckling, Predictability ofthe Costs, Time, and Success of Development, P-1812 (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corpo-ration, October 1959), reprinted in The Rate and Direction of Inventive Activity: Economicand Social Factors (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962); Richard R. Nelson,“Uncertainty, Learning, and the Economics of Parallel Research and Development Efforts,”Review of Economics and Statistics 43 (1961), 351–364; Nelson and Richard Langlois,“Industrial Innovation Policy: Lessons from American History,” Science 219 (18 February1983), 814–818; Robert L. Perry, The Mythography of Military R&D, P-3356 (SantaMonica, CA: RAND Corporation, May 1966); Perry, Innovation and Military Require-ments: A Comparative Study, RM-5182-PR (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation,August 1967); Perry, Giles K. Smith, Alvin J. Harman, Susan Henrichsen, SystemAcquisition Strategies, R-733-PR/ARPA (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, June1971); and Perry, American Styles of Military R&D, P-6326 (Santa Monica, CA: RANDCorporation, June 1979).

9. Andrew H. Van de Ven, “On the Nature, Formation, and Maintenance of Relationsamong Organizations,” The Academy of Management Review 1 (October 1976), 24–36.

10. James G. March and Herbert A. Simon, Organizations (New York: John Wiley &Sons, 1958), 26.

11. The creation of the Department of Homeland Security showed these features,but included additional problems. The reorganization’s designers were deeply ignorantof the roles and duties of agencies being combined into Homeland Security, PresidentGeorge W. Bush did not pay close attention to substantive issues nor did he arbi-trate among competing executive departments. See Susan B. Glasser and Michael Grun-wald, “Department’s Mission Was Undermined from Start,” The Washington Post 22 De-cember 2005), A01, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/12/21/AR2005122102327.html, accessed December 22, 2005.

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128 notes

12. In like manner, the creation of the Navy’s Combat Information Center was theresult of the great expansion in the use of radar, sonar, and radio-detection equipment aboardships. The vast expansion of information acquired by the then-new sensing equipment ledto a new organizational arrangement to collect, interpret, and analyze information and issuecommands. Lincoln Thiesmeyer and John E. Burchard, Combat Scientists (Boston, MA:Little, Brown and Co. 1947), 258.

13. People cannot probe ideas and positions well without group identifications. SeeEleanor Singer, “Reference Groups and Social Evaluations,” in Morris Rosenberg andRalph Turner, eds., Social Psychology (New York: Basic Books, 1980); Herbert A. Simon,“Strategy and Organizational Evolution,” Strategic Management Journal 14 (Winter 1993),137.

14. See, for example, Charles E. Lindblom, Inquiry and Change: The Troubled At-tempt to Understand and Shape Society (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1990).

15. “A Self-Correcting System: The Constitution of the United States,” A Bicen-tennial Chronicle Number 11 (Summer 1986), 4–10; Woodrow Wilson, CongressionalGovernment: A Study in American Politics (Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1969).

16. Committee on Armed Services, U.S. Senate, Defense Organization: The Need forChange, 99th Cong., 1st sess., S. Prt. 99–86, October 16, 1985, 2. James R. Locher IIIwas the study director of this report. After leaving the staff of the Senate Armed ServicesCommittee, Locher became the first assistant secretary of defense for special operationsand low-intensity conflict.

17. James R. Locher III, “Has it Worked? The Goldwater-Nichols ReorganizationAct,” Naval War College Review 54 (Autumn 2001), 95–116.

18. Personal communication, Capt. Karl Hasslinger to the author, February 25, 2003.19. The following owes much to Martin Landau, “Catastrophic Errors and the Chang-

ing Shape of Bureaucracy,” in Larry B. Hill, ed., The State of Public Bureaucracy (Armonk,NY: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1992).

20. P. B. Medawar, Advice to a Young Scientist (New York: Harper & Row, 1979),39.

21. See, for example, Stefan Thomke, “Enlightened Experimentation: The New Im-perative for Innovation,” Harvard Business Review (February 2001), 67–75.

22. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Vice Adm. Phillip M. Balisle, May 22, 2003;Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Rear Adm. (S) Brad Hicks, July 7, 2003; “JointDistributed Engineering Plant,” http://jitc.fhu.disa.mil/jdep/, accessed February 11, 2007;F. Edward Baker Jr. and Gregory E. Monteith, “The Distributed Engineering Plant: TheLinchpin of Battle Force Interoperability,” Sea Power (2000), http://www.Navyleague.org/seapower/distributed engineering plant.htm, accessed December 29, 2005.

23. See Martin Landau, “On the Concept of a Self-Correcting Organization,” PublicAdministration Review 33 (November/December 1973), 539.

24. Jerry A. Krill and Arthur F. Krummenoehl, “System Concept Development Lab-oratory: Tooling Up for the 21st Century,” Johns Hopkins APL Technical Digest 23 (April–September 2002), 287; see also the Web site for the Joint Distributed Engineering Plantreferenced in note 22 above.

25. Nicholas Rescher, Inquiry Dynamics (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publish-ers, 2000), 101. See also the discussion of predicting the pace and direction of technologicalprogress in Mark D. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion: A CaseStudy in Organizational Innovation (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1998), 9.

26. Mandeles, The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion, 9.

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27. Phil Balisle and Tom Bush, “CEC Provides Theater Air Dominance,” Proceedings128 (May 2002), 62.

28. A high intellectual quality of discussion about operational matters should beexpected, and has a long history in British and American militaries. Nobel Laureate P. M.S. Blackett, a World War II operational analyst, noted that the meetings between navalofficers and operational analysts compared favorably with sessions of the Royal Society inEngland. Thiesmeyer and Burchard, Combat Scientists, 78.

29. Thiesmeyer and Burchard, Combat Scientists, 53, 167, 180.30. “Strategy as a Science,” World Politics 1 (July 1949), 483.31. Hanson W. Baldwin, Great Mistakes of the War (New York: Harper & Brothers,

1949), 66.32. Donald H. Rumsfeld, “DoD Acquisition and Logistics Excellence Week

Kickoff—Bureaucracy to Battlefield,” speech delivered at the Pentagon, September 10,2001, http://www.defenselink.mil/Speeches/Speech.aspx?SpeechID=430, accessed June 1,2006.

33. The 2006 Quadrennial Defense Review Report, for example, proposes “jointcapability portfolio” analysis as a tool to meet priorities established in the National DefenseStrategy (see page 41). Yet, the goals-resources mismatch is hidden by the QDR’s rhetoricand loose presentation.

34. See, for example, Aaron Wildavsky, The New Politics of the Budgetary Process(Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman and Co., 1988), 350–362; Aaron Wildavsky, Speaking Truthof Power: The Art and Craft of Policy Analysis (Boston, MA: Little, Brown, and Co, 1979),32; Arnold Kanter, Defense Politics: A Budgetary Perspective (Chicago, IL: University ofChicago Press, 1979).

35. Thomas C. Hone, Norman Friedman, and Mark D. Mandeles, American andBritish Aircraft Carrier Development, 1919–1941 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press,1999), 188.

36. Herbert A. Simon, Administrative Behavior, 3rd ed. (New York: The Free Press,1976), 147–149; William M. Jones, “On Decisionmaking in Large Organizations,” Mem-orandum RM-3968-PR (Santa Monica, CA: The RAND Corporation, 1964), 4–6.

37. Harold Seidman, Politics, Position & Power: The Dynamics of Federal Organi-zation, Second edition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1975), 175.

38. Seidman, Politics, Position & Power, 175.39. John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid, “Organizational Learning and Communities

of Practice: Toward a Unified View of Working, Learning, and Innovation,” in MichaelD. Cohen and Lee S. Sproull, eds., Organizational Learning (Thousand Oaks, CA: SagePublications, 1996), 58.

40. On January 17, 2007, at a workshop held at Quantico, VA, a lieutenant colonel toldthe author that when the Marines encounter an operational or technical problem, they createan “integrated product team”—an ad hoc organization of people from various offices—tosolve the problem. The integrated product team dissolves with the completion of thetask.

41. In discussion of the list of committees and subcommittees submitted to the Senatesubcommittee, Senator Henry Jackson remarked that “it is an old American habit to refer aquestion to a committee, particularly if you don’t know quite what to do with the questionat that particular time.” Over the course of the National Policy Machinery Subcommittee’swork, Senator Jackson discussed the number of ad hoc committees with many witnesses. Forexample, see U.S. Senate, Hearings before the Subcommittee on National Policy Machinery

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of the Committee on Government Operations, Organizing for National Security Volume 1(Washington, DC: US GPO, 1961), 258, 387–388, 407, 670.

42. The author served on this working group. Briefing, “IPT 3: Roles, Missions andOrganization, Working Group 5: DoD Organization,” draft working paper, September 7,2005.

43. Frank W. Ault, “The Ault Report Revisited,” The Hook (Spring 1989), 36–39.44. Interview, Mark D. Mandeles with Capt. Frank W. Ault (USN, ret.), Decem-

ber 23, 2002.45. Harold L. Nieburg, for instance, in examining books on assassination notes, “it

becomes clear how unprepared we have been and are as specialists of behavior and citizensof a troubled and disorderly time. The work of the Commission on the Causes and thePrevention of Violence and all of the literature which has been generated in recent yearsreveals the nakedness of the sciences as possessing any unique relevance or special skillin authoring concrete proposals and policy guidance to help us out of the mess. All thestudies, whatever the methodology, are unsatisfying and question-begging.” “Book review:The Politics of Assassination; Assassination and Political Violence: A Staff Report to theNational Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence,” Midwest Journal ofPolitical Science 15 (August 1971), 601.

46. See Robert A. Pape, Dying to Win: The Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism(New York: Random House, 2005); and Marc Sageman, Understanding Terror Networks(Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004).

47. Jacob Bronowski, “Operations Research as an Example of the ContemporaryEvolution of Science,” Scientific American (October 1951), 75.

48. Baruch Fischhoff, “For Those Condemned to Study the Past: Heuristics and Biasesin Hindsight,” in Daniel Kahneman, Paul Slovic, and Amos Tversky, eds., Judgment underUncertainty: Heuristics and Biases (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 341.

49. Barry R. Posen, The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain, and GermanyBetween the World Wars (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984), 174–175.

50. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, eds. and trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976), 75.

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Index

Air Corps Tactical School, 39, 41–42, 43Aircraft

Boeing P-12, 41Douglas A-20 Havoc, 44Grumman E-2C Hawkeye, 76, 80Martin B-10, 41Martin B-26 Marauder, 44North American B-25 Mitchell, 44Piper Cub, 44

Aircraft carriers. See ShipsDwight D. Eisenhower, 77, 78, 79, 82Furious, 31John F. Kennedy, 79, 80Langley, 37

Aircraft performanceAir Corps Board predictions, 41General Board predictions, 32, 33World War I, 42

Air defenseaegis weapon system, 74–76, 78, 79–82Battle Group Anti-Air Warfare

Coordination, 75Albert, J. S., 23Amphibious assault

Bayeux Tapestry, 49history, 48–70

Anderson, W. H., 55

Andrews, Frank M., 43Arnold, Henry H., 37–38, 44Aspinall-Oglander, Cecil, 53Ault, Frank W., 99

Baikie, Stephen, 52Baker, Newton D., 34Baldwin, Hanson W., 95Balisle, Phillip M., 72, 77, 82, 94Barnett, Correlli, 58Beach, Edward L., 29Benson, William S., 32Bittner, Donald, 56Blandy, William H. P., 38Bloch, Jean de, 52Board of Admiralty, 55, 58Borah, William E., 32Breckinridge, James C., 65Broadbent, E. W., 65Brodie, Bernard, 5, 28, 94–95Brodie, Fawn, 28Bronowski, Jacob, 99Buhl, Lance C., 24Bureau of Aeronautics, 31, 32, 35, 36, 38,

42, 46Bureau of Ordnance, 38Bush, George W., 3

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154 index

Bush, RADM Tom, 94Butler, Thomas Stalker, 34

Cambone, Stephen A., 6Capability Portfolio Analysis, 95, 97Cebrowski, Arthur K., 3, 6Chennault, Claire, 39, 40, 41, 44Churchill, Winston S., 51, 52, 54–55, 58,

59Civil War, American, 14, 24Clausewitz, Carl von, 100Cleveland, Grover, 19Clifford, Kenneth J., 57Coastal air defense, World War II, 9–10Cole, Eli, 65Committee of Imperial Defence, 54–55Congress, 15, 16, 21, 22, 24, 26Connolly, Tom, 99Coontz, Robert E., 34–35, 64Cooperative Engagement Capability,

72–83, 86, 88–89, 92Coordination, 84–85, 87–89

air-ground, 43–44amphibious, 48–49

Corbett, Julian, 53Craven, T. T., 32Crowl, Philip A., 49, 65Curtiss, Glenn, 31

Daniels, Josephus, 6, 31, 32, 33, 34Decision making

democracy and military decisionmaking, 91, 97

empirical outlook, 99role of knowledge and analysis, 28, 85,

86rules of evidence and inference, 91,

99Delano, B. F., 22Demo 90, 76–77Dewey, George, 26Distributed engineering plant, 79, 86,

92–93Doctrine

“Advanced Base Concept,” 60air, 39, 43, 44

Dunlap, Robert H., 48, 62

Ellis, Earl H., 61–62Endicott, William C., 18E-Systems/ECI Division, 76Exercise rules, post–Civil War, 20–22Experimentation, 6, 8, 15, 16, 25, 29, 31,

91, 92absence of, 58Army Air Corps maneuvers, 40–41bombing tests, interwar, 32, 34, 35fleet landing exercises, 56Gedanken, 37Louisiana Maneuvers, 44test realism, 35, 38, 40U.S. Joint Forces Command, 29

Fechet, James E., 40Fehrenbach, T. R., 71Finer, Herman, 85Fisher, John, 51Fiske, Bradley A., 31, 33Fleet Maneuvers, 56, 63, 64, 70Foulois, Benjamin D., 40, 41FUBAR. See SNAFUFullam, William F., 32, 33–34, 49, 78Fuller, Ben H., 64, 65, 66Furer, Julius A., 7

Gallipoli Campaign, 51–53failure of, 51–53, 60

Gatling gun, 17, 21, 22General Board, 26, 27, 31–32, 33, 36–38,

42, 46, 60, 61, 64, 68–70, 86, 88Giambastiani, Edmund P., Jr., 29Global Positioning System, 8Goldsborough, Louis M., 22Goldwater-Nichols legislation, 90Gowing, M. M., 85Greene, Francis V., 20Guilmartin, John F., Jr., 14

Hamilton, Ian, 52, 53Hancock, W. K., 85Harding, Warren G., 50Harrod, Frederick S., 22Hasslinger, Karl, 90Hewitt, H. K., 65Hone, Thomas C., 4

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index 155

Hoover, Herbert, 40Hughes, Charles Evans, 50Hunter Warrior experiment, 8–9

Inter-Department Committee on CombinedOperations (UK), 55

Inter-Services Training and DevelopmentCentre, 57, 70

Isely, Jeter A., 49, 55, 65Isherwood, Benjamin F., 22, 23, 34Ismay, Hastings Lionel (Lord Ismay), 55,

57

Jamieson, Perry, 16, 17, 19, 20Jellicoe, John Rushworth, 33Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics

Laboratory, 72, 74–76Joint Army and Navy Board, 43, 62Joint Forces Command

experimentation, 29Joint Vision 2010, 5Join Vision 2020, 5Jomini, Antoine Henri, 49

Karman, Theodore von, 30Kiralfy, Alexander, 53Kitchener, Horatio Herbert, 51–52Koistinen, Paul A. C., 24Krulak, Charles C., 4Krulak, Victor H., 49

Lacaze, Lucien, 33La Guardia, Fiorello, 33Landau, Martin, 68Leadership, 85, 87, 90, 94–95, 97Leaf, Daniel “Fig,” 8Learning, organizational, 15–16, 21, 22, 26

disappearance of Royal Naval Divisionlessons learned, 55

Spanish Civil War, impact of, 42strategy to learn, 18, 35, 72

Lejeune, John A., 56, 61, 63Lenthall, John, 22Levels of analysis, 4, 5, 25, 85, 90Liddell-Hart, Basil, 53Link-11, 74, 75Lloyd George, David, 51, 52, 53, 54

Locher, James R., III, 90Lockheed Martin Corporation, 74, 76, 80,

81, 82Long, John D., 26Long, J. H., 23Luce, Stephen B., 25, 26

MacArthur, Douglas, 40, 65MacGregor, David, 58Madden, Charles, 56Madison, James, 1, 11Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 24, 60Marine Corps Schools, 64–68, 70Marshall, George C., 28, 43, 46, 59Masefield, John, 48, 53Maund, L. E. H., 57Mayo, Henry, 33McClellan, George B., 17McKenna, Richard, 6McNair, Lesley J., 43McNamara, Robert S., 96McVay, Charles B., 33Means–ends analysis, 26, 53Medawar, P. B., 91–92Military maverick, 100Millett, Allan R., 54, 56, 62, 66, 67,

69Millis, Walter, 1, 44Mitchell, William, 32, 33–34, 42Moffett, William A., 36Montgomery, Bernard L., 58Morison, Elting E., 9–10, 23, 24“Mountain Top” Advanced Concept

Technology Demonstration, 78Multiorganization system, 2, 26, 86–100

absence of, 46, 47, 59, 86Constitutional criticism, 85, 89interaction among organizations, 85, 89interwar, amphibious warfare, 50–51interwar, naval aviation, 30, 35, 39

National Advisory Committee forAeronautics, 30, 37

Naval Academy, 26Naval Institute, 26, 27Naval War College 26, 27, 31, 33, 35–38,

46, 60–61, 67–68, 70

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156 index

Navybattleship construction program,

33Nicholson, J. W. A., 23Northrop Grumman Corporation, 76,

81

Operational analysis, WWII, 94Operation Desert Storm, 73, 76Operation Enduring Freedom, 8–9Organization

ad hoc, 98–99centralization, 90coordination, 84–85, 87–89. See also

Coordinationcoupling, 88goal setting, 39outputs, 29redundancy and duplication, 88, 90self-correction, 68self-evaluation, 29, 38–39, 46

Organizational errorerror-free design, 5error identification and correction, 54,

63, 85, 87, 93generic sources of, 95goal displacement, 29prevention, “pre-audit,” 79sources of, 5strategic, approach to learning, 4

O’Rourke, Ronald, 3, 82

Parrott gun, 23Peirse, Richard, 58Posen, Barry, 100Pratt, William V., 65Precision-guided munitions, 7–8, 9, 10Private SNAFU. See SNAFUProctor, Redfield, 19Puleston, W. D., 62

Quadrennial Defense Review, 2006, 98

Raines, Edgar F., Jr., 42Raytheon Systems Company, 76, 80, 81, 82Redundancy and reliability, 73Reeves, Joseph M., 37

Remington, Frederic, 16–17Revolution, military, 1, 3, 5–6, 31, 33, 45

post–Civil War technology and tactics,15, 17–18, 19, 20, 23

Ridgway, Matthew, 71Roberts, Lawrence, 8Rommel, Erwin, 71Roosevelt, Franklin D., 36, 42Rumsfeld, Donald H., 3, 4, 95–96Russell, John J., 62, 65Russo-Turkish War, 20

Sapolsky, Harvey M., 86Schofield, John M., 19, 20Sheridan, Philip H., 17, 25Sherman, William T., 20, 25Ships

Alabama, 35Anzio, 77, 78, 79, 94Cape St. George, 77, 78, 79Carney, 79Frankfurt, 34Hue City, 78, 79Iowa, 34Kentucky, 34Kidd, 77Ostfriesland, 34–35Vicksburg, 78, 79Wampanoag, 22–25Wasp, 77, 78, 79

Shulimson, Jack, 60Sims, William S., 32, 33–34, 35–36, 58, 62Situational awareness, 76Smith, Holland M., 48–49, 61, 64, 66, 67,

69SNAFU, 84

Tactics, linear formation, 17, 18Tanaka, Raizo, 71TARFU. See SNAFUTaylor, David W., 33, 34Tentative Manual for Landing Operations,

65–66Ten-Year Rule, 54–55Tirpitz, Alfred von, 33Townsend, Bob, 99Training, pre-WWII competition in, 29

P1: 000


index 157

Transformation, military, 2, 3, 4, 6–7, 9,10, 11, 12, 85, 93

Transformation Planning Guidance, 11Travers, Timothy H. E., 52

Upton, Emory, 18

Vagts, Alfred, 49Vandegrift, Alexander A., 61Van Tol, Jan M., 61Versailles Treaty, 61Von Neumann, John, 11, 73

Wargamersand aircraft performance requirements,

36, 42

War Plan Orange, 60, 62Washington Naval Treaties, 50Watson, Bertram, 57Weigley, Russell F., 7Welles, Gideon, 23Westover, Oscar, 41Wildavsky, Aaron, 68Williams, Dion, 63Williston, Edward B., 21Wilson, Woodrow, 6, 31, 84Wounded Knee, Battle of,

19–20Wright, Orville, 30, 31, 45Wright, Wilber, 30, 31, 45

Zeller, T., 23

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P1: 000

GGBD140ATA C9190/Mandeles August 3, 2007 19:12

About the Author

MARK D. MANDELES has authored The Future of War: Organizations asWeapons (2005) and The Development of the B-52 and Jet Propulsion: A CaseStudy in Organizational Innovation (1998), and coauthored Managing “Commandand Control” in the Persian Gulf War (Praeger, 1996) and American and BritishAircraft Carrier Development, 1919–1941 (1999).