At the beginning of World War II, the Royal Navy established a history branch which reported directly to the Lords of the Admiralty. The reason was largely operational rather than academic, .
Recalling that it had been necessary to relearn the old convoy lesson during World War I, when the new U-boat threat became apparent, the British decided to minimize the chances of having to relearn expensive lessons yet again. The enterprise was a success. By war’s end, the operational history office had a staff of 15 and exists today on a smaller scale. There is a broader lesson to be learned from this episode, and broader questions to be raised.
The convoy analogy is appropriate. Originally conceived in the days of sail, the convoy was intended to deter pirates. At the same time, it applied the elementary principle of concentration. A lone pirate or commerce raider could pick off successive merchantmen sailing singly or in pairs. But by sending several ships together through hostile waters, the total exposure time for all was little more than that for one. Furthermore, it became feasible to assign warships to escort them. In short, enemy interception was rendered less likely.
That the time-honored convoy technique was applied to meet the 20th century threat of the submarine is perhaps the purest form of naval history at work. For while technology had progressed by orders of magnitude, the fundamental situation remained basically unchanged. The U-boats—lone commerce raiders—posed essentially the same threat that freebooting pirates or privateers with letters of marque had in centuries past. True, Admiral Karl Doenitz developed wolf packs to counter convoys, but the British had learned their lesson and possessed an institutional memory. Seemingly, the Germans did not have such an advantage, for they failed to recognize that one of the reasons behind their 1914-18 failure at sea was the lack of combined surface and air support for submarines. During the 1939-43 period of U-boat ascendancy, Germany possessed adequate surface and air assets to enhance submarine operations, but failed to capitalize on them.
Operational history undeniably has a place in military affairs. The British placed such a high value upon it in all their armed forces that in early 1941 the Air Ministry wrote the commanding officer of a Royal Air Force fighter squadron, chastising him for failure to forward recent monthly history reports. The press of operations was not considered an excuse for noncompliance with the requirement.
Contrast that British attitude in 1941 with the fact that for several peacetime years following the Korean War the U. S. Navy had no requirement for ship and unit annual histories. Many combat operations have been poorly documented. One example is the Red Baron Project, a compilation of all MiG encounters by Navy and Air Force fliers during the Vietnam War. Most of the reports were made well after the event—mostly after U. S. involvement had ended! The valuable technical and tactical data, with their attendant lessons, were in large part unavailable while the shooting was still in progress.
There is another point to be made. No submariner, no surface warfare officer, and increasingly fewer aviators in the U. S. Navy have combat experience. The last surface and submarine engagements occurred in 1944-45, and one is left to wonder about the institutional memory of our armed forces. A recurring complaint among Marine Corps personnel in Vietnam (and presumably the Army was also at fault) was the old problem of reinventing the wheel. A 19-year-old Marine told this writer, “Whenever we moved into a new area, or whenever we got a new CO, we knew things would be rough. Nobody seemed to write down what they’d learned, and we kept relearning the same lessons over again.” Clearly, little corporate memory existed, though this youngster recognized the need.
This is not to imply that the means of collecting and distributing operational history are lacking. Quite the contrary. The Navy and Marine Corps maintain independent history offices in Washington, D. C. In particular, the Operational Archives in Building 57 of the Navy Yard contain a wealth of material dating from World War II: ship and unit histories, war diaries, and after-action reports. Nearly all the information is accessible, though some of the Korean War and many of the Vietnam-era documents remain classified. The Naval Historical Foundation, also in Building 57, is another source of primary research material.
As long as operational and administrative histories are generated and available, they may be put to varying use. For present purposes, three broad categories merit consideration: operational history, academic history, and popular history. Though the emphasis and direction of each differ, all overlap and the sources are known. Since we have already briefly examined operational history, let’s touch upon the other two.
Academic naval history need not be limited to professional institutions such as the Naval Academy or the Naval War College. The potential practitioners extend beyond these necessarily esoteric circles. To scholars, the broader aspects of naval history can and should be a rewarding field. The evolution of sea power, its effect upon international relations, the successes and failures of power projection all offer worthwhile subjects. Additionally, because no military force exists by or for itself, the study of naval history crosses numerous academic boundaries. In addition to the more obvious areas of war and conflict are related fields such as commerce (economics), diplomacy (political science), and technology (engineering).
That differing, even contradictory, conclusions will be reached by two scholars employing the same sources is neither surprising nor undesirable. The historical community is expected not only to examine “new” material, but to return to familiar subjects and sources in search of more accurate or more penetrating conclusions. Consequently* the military/political reader may learn or rediscover something of value.
For instance, is there a consistent theme running through Russian naval policy? The transition from Czarist to Soviet leadership would seem to negate such a possibility. But lessons may be learned, even if they are negative lessons. If no similar attitudes or policies are detectable, that knowledge is potentially useful. And since the U. S- Navy possesses few full-time historians in other than a teaching capacity, it is obviously in its interest to see that civilian academics receive as much assistance and cooperation as possible. Happily, Operational Archives enjoys an excellent reputation among professionals in the field; on this score, the service is meeting the demand among researchers and writers.
Which brings us to the third category, popular history. Compared with the Air Force, the Navy comes off a distant second in promoting itself in print—or in most other media, for that matter. Apparently the Air Force recognized from the beginning the value of an integrated his- tory/public relations program. Through a variety of outlets, it generates a substantial amount of official and quasi-official historical material. That which is produced in-house is the work of full-time specialists, both in and out of uniform. Whether the material comes from the Air Force Museum, the records center at Maxwell Air Force Base, or the Air Force Historical Foundation in Washington, the effect is largely the same: a continuing, positive presentation to the public of the Air Force’s mission, evolution, and accomplishments.
We needn’t be parochial about this. The Air Force, as a major partner in national defense, rightfully deserves all the support it receives. We naval advocates should be heartened by its success and do more for ourselves than we have previously attempted.
“Yes,” you say, “but what about Samuel Eliot Mori- son?”
Well, what about Morison? Remember that, although he had full cooperation of the Navy Department, his monumental 15-volume history of World War II operations was not an official publication. He led the way in modern U. S. Navy history, a huge step forward, but there is still no American equivalent of the voluminous, detailed “reports to the public” released by the British Admiralty following both World Wars. Perhaps the British are simply more history-conscious than we, or better disposed towards things nautical. After all, there is scarcely a spot in the United Kingdom where one finds oneself over 70 miles from the sea. A substantial proportion of Americans can walk 700 miles in any direction without so much as sniffing salt water.
This fact must be remembered by naval advocates. The public cannot be oversold on the importance of a strong Navy, particularly as the nation grows increasingly dependent upon imported materials and resources. However, there is an inherent difficulty. The average voter probably believes that he understands air power. Whether he does or not is another matter entirely. But it is far easier for the layman to grasp the concept of falling bombs and “glamorous” dogfights than it is for him to relate to power projection at sea. The safe arrival of an oil tanker is, after all, the end result of sea power. There is nothing glamorous or exciting in that, little to grab the imagination. However, the failure of that ship to arrive with her petroleum could have dramatic repercussions for the complacent citizen.
In addition, America’s foreign markets depend upon access to the sea-lanes. Whether the business community fully understands this—or merely takes it for granted— might be a worthwhile study. Certainly, U. S. grain producers shouldthink about it every day. The prospects of a political alliance between agriculture and the Navy (on Capitol Hill) are beyond the province of this study. But the process of making American producers aware of the need for a strong, competent Navy and the mutual interest each has in the other could be enhanced by an historical-public relations approach.
Within the Navy itself, there surely exists a consciousness of history and its usefulness. After all, we have a Naval Historical Center and several publications partially devoted to historical material. The question arises, however, as to whether such agencies and periodicals are charged with producing material which can and will be disseminated in circles concerned with tactical and strategic planning. Pearl Harbor is a case in point. In the five decades prior to 7 December 1941, the Japanese twice opened hostilities by surprise attacks—against China and Imperial Russia. If American military planners were aware of this proclivity, they obviously did not make full use of the historical precedent.
Therefore, it is not difficult to make a case for the desirability of instilling a historical approach to tactics and strategy among our professionals. Alfred Thayer Mahan has been “cussed and discussed” for almost a century, and probably most naval officers are aware of his tenet that all successful sea powers have been built upon the combination of a fleet, a merchant marine, and bases. But as has been noted in the pages of the Proceedings, Mahan is talked about more widely than he is read. What does our naval leadership know of Mahan’s history lessons from personal reading? And how relevant are those lessons today?
Without delving into that question, it is worthy of note that the Proceedings has published many articles on the subject. The World War II years contain a surprising number of issues with discussions not only of Mahan, but of the broader topic of military/naval history generally. It is evident that Naval Institute readers have been thinking about this subject, and airing their thoughts on it, for a long time. In its quasi-official status, the Institute has performed an invaluable service over the years, not only in the forum of the Proceedings, but in its book publishing program. For instance, only when Naval Institute Press began its aviation book series in the late 1970s did this deserving topic receive detailed treatment. While the relevance of 1940s carrier aircraft and flying boats to today’s ultra-sophisticated planes and weapon systems may seem tenuous at first, corollaries do exist. For example, it has been noted that the U. S. Navy already has dealt with the vaunted cruise missile threat in the form of kamikaze suicide aircraft. Such clues from the past may help provide answers to current or future problems, whether the scenario involves air, surface, subsurface, or amphibious operations.
Clearly, both official and semiofficial means of generating and distributing useful naval history now exist. We are therefore concerned with deciding how we can improve the situation. How do we go about the job? How should naval history be compiled, written and disseminated within the professional, academic and, popular fields?
It has to be done at the top, with the Secretary of the Navy or Chief of Naval Operations. Fortunately, an encouraging sign has appeared in the past couple of years. Facilities in the Washington Navy Yard have been expanded, including additional archival, library, and museum space. Six new historians have been added, all working in the important post-World War II era. However, the various command levels must be required—not merely encouraged—to maintain useful administrative and operational histories. This will not be easy. The ship or squadron public affairs officer usually receives the history job as a collateral duty, and harassed, fresh-caught ensigns seldom are well suited for or favorably disposed toward the task. A frequent response, usually delivered in a somewhat whimpering tone is: “Why should we have to write down all this stuff? We know what’s going on here.’ Well, of course you do, mister. But who is going to remember with any precision when you’re gone in two or three years?
There are other problems, particularly those arising from advanced technology. Ironically, increased speed and efficiency of communication can have an adverse effect upon preservation of information. Previously, all strategic and most tactical policies and decisions were necessarily committed to paper. But now, with satellite communications and computer technology required in the missile age, there may be no time and little immediate need for the written word when data are transmitted electronically under the press of fast-moving events.
Historians are facing not so much a mere revolution in their field as the onset of near anarchy. According to most sea-war scenarios, this is a problem which operational analysts will share at the tactical level. The most likely conflict, say the pundits, is a high-intensity, short-duration affair lasting perhaps four to ten days. Under such circumstances, historians will eventually have something to work with, but the shooting may be over long before combat lessons can be assimilated.
If we are going to deal with contemporary naval history, we must recognize such limitations. But at the same time we can help reduce costly—perhaps fatal—errors by harking back to previous experience. Call this “preventive history,” if you will.
A case in point is the occasionally-heard argument that the Marine Corps does not need fighter squadrons; perhaps not even fixed-wing strike aircraft. Perhaps it does not, in a force structure with greatly expanded Navy squadrons. But consider what would have happened at Guadalcanal if, when Vice Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher withdrew all three carriers from supporting the beachhead, there had been no Marine fighter or dive-bomber squadrons available.
History lessons of this sort can be applied at the highest levels well before any future conflict occurs. Once the shooting starts, it will be desirable, perhaps essential, to have individuals or small teams assigned to accumulate, digest, and distribute tactical data to appropriate command levels quickly enough to be useful. If such individuals possess a working knowledge of naval history over and above their own warfare specialties, their effectiveness will be correspondingly increased.
Once this information passes from operational analysts to archival and war college repositories (following declassification) it enters the mainstream of academic and popular history sources. As already noted, it is in the Navy’s long-term interest to maintain and support such a program, for both official and unofficial publications. The impulse to shield mistakes or hasty decisions from scrutiny can only prove counterproductive. Surely no professional naval officer argued that there should have been no examination of the disasters at Savo Island and Tassafaronga or the near-disaster at Leyte Gulf. Forty years later they still serve as eminently useful lessons in the use of surprise and the pitfalls of complicated command and communications.
To cite another World War II example, few of those on the staff of the Newport Torpedo Station welcomed tests of the Mark 14. Not until more than six months of submarine activity produced frustrating combat failures were the Newport products empirically tested and found to run some 10 feet below the programmed setting. But today none of those gentlemen is likely to bemoan the knowledge we presumably gained from that lamentable episode in naval ordnance. The similarity between pre-World War II economy measures and the current budgetary conditions, under which weapon systems may or may not be thoroughly tested under practical conditions, requires little elaboration.
In summary, the U. S. Navy may gain noteworthy advantage from a policy of required documentation and doctrine oriented toward tactical, strategic, and publicity- oriented historical programs. The cost of following such a policy is small; in comparison to the potential benefits, the cost is miniscule. The expanded naval history programs of recent years should be perpetuated by the Navy and Marine Corps, growing to keep pace with a larger force structure and with events.
We do otherwise at our peril.
