The Navy as a Fighting Machine

by Bradley A. Fiske

A like remark may be made concerning any mechanism—say a gun, a torpedo, or an instrument, or a vessel of any kind. The strategist, by studying the requirements of probable war, concludes that a certain kind of thing is needed; and the technician supplies it, or does so to the best of his ability.

The statement thus far made indicates a division of work into two sharply defined departments; and, theoretically, such a division does exist. This does not mean, however, that the strategist and the technician should work independently of each other. Such a procedure would result in the strategist demanding things the technician could not supply, and in the technician supplying things the strategist did not want, under a mistaken impression as to what the strategist wanted. The fullest and most intimate understanding and co-operation must exist between the strategist and the technician, as it must equally between the architect and the builder of a house.

From an appreciation of such facts as these, every great Navy Department, except that of the United States, has developed a General Staff, which studies what should be done to prepare for passing from a state of peace to a state of war; which informs the minister at the head of the department what things should be done, and is given power to provide that the various bureaus and offices shall be able to do them when war breaks. This is the scheme which all the navy departments, except the American, have devised, to meet the sudden and violent shock of the outbreak of a modern war. No other means has yet been devised, and no other means is even forecasted.

The means is extremely simple in principle, but complex beyond the reach of an ordinary imagination in detail. It consists simply in writing down a digest of all the various things that are to be done, dividing the task of doing them among the various bureaus and offices that are authorized by law to do them, and then seeing that the bureaus shall be able to do them in the time allowed.

The best way of ascertaining if the bureaus are able to do them is to mobilize—to put into commission and send out to sea all the craft that will be needed, fully equipped with a trained personnel and with a well-conditioned material; and then direct the commander-in-chief to solve a definite strategic problem—say to defend the coast against a hypothetical enemy fleet—the solution including tactical games by day and night.

Before attempting the solution of a strategic problem by an entire naval force, however, it is usual to hold mobilization exercises of a character less complete, in the same way that any course of training begins with drills that are easy and progresses to drills that are difficult. The simplest of all the preparative drills—if drills they correctly can be called—is the periodical reporting, once a month, or once a quarter, by each bureau and office, of its state of readiness; the report to be in such detail as experience shows to be the best.

In the days when each bureau's preparation consisted of comparatively few things to do, the chief of that bureau could be relied on to do the things required to be done by his bureau; and his oral assurance to the secretary that—say all the ships had enough ammunition, or that adequate provision had been made for coal, or that there were enough enlisted men—would fulfil all requirements. But in the past fifty years, the requirements have increased a hundredfold, while the human mind has remained just as it was. So it has seemed necessary to institute a system of periodical preparation reports, to examine them carefully, and to use all possible vigilance, lest any item be forgotten or any work done by two bureaus that ought to be done by only one.

Who should examine the reports? Naturally the same persons as decide what should be done. The same studies and deliberations that fit a person to decide what is needed, fit him to inspect the product that is offered to supply the need; not only to see if it comes up to the specifications, but also to decide whether or not any observed omission is really important; to decide whether, in view of certain practical difficulties, the specifications may be modified; and also to decide whether certain improvements suggested by any bureau should or should not be adopted.

This procedure may seem to put the strategy officers "over" the technical officers, to put a lieutenant-commander on the General Staff "over" a rear admiral who is chief of bureau; but such an idea seems hardly justified. In any well-designed organization relative degrees of official superiority are functions of rank, and of nothing else; superiority in rank must, of course, be recognized, for the reason that when on duty together the junior must obey the senior. But even this superiority is purely official; it is a matter of position, and not a matter of honor. All the honor that is connected with any position is not by reason of the position itself, but by reason of the honorable service which a man must have rendered in order to attain it, and which he must continue to render in order to maintain it. So, in a Navy Department, the General Staff officers cannot be "over" the bureau officers, unless by law or regulation certain of the staff are made to rank over certain bureau officers. A procedure like this would seem to be unnecessary, except in the case of the chief of staff himself, who might, for the purpose of prompt administration, be placed by law over the bureau chiefs.

The importance of the question, however, does not rest on a personal basis, but a national basis. It makes no difference to the nation whether Smith is put above Jones, or Jones above Smith; and in all discussions of national matters it is essential to bear in mind clearly not only that national questions must not be obscured by the interjection of the personal element, but also that great vigilance is needed to prevent it. For the reason that questions of the salaries of government officials have been settled in advance, questions of personal prestige and authority are more apt to intrude themselves among them than among men in civil life, whose main object is to "make a living"—and as good a living as they can. In the long struggle that has gone on in the United States Navy Department between the advocates and the opponents of a General Staff, the personal element has clouded the question—perhaps more than any other element. Not only in the department itself, but in Congress, the question of how much personal "power" the General Staff would have has been discussed interminably—as though the personal element were of any importance whatever.