Navy Sets Course for Computer Age
Three things provide purpose and stamina to this big boat: bombs, beans and news from home.
All three are best delivered quickly.
To hasten their delivery, the Navy’s Pacific Fleet is two years into a $400-million-plus overhaul of its computer technology and information systems that is shaking up the way the tradition-bound--and sometimes computer- resistant--sea service does its job.
“I think for a long time the Navy considered computers good for small jobs and for exchanging jokes,” said Cmdr. Bruce Acton, the combat systems officer on the Stennis. “Now, finally, there’s a realization that computers can enhance our war-fighting ability.”
Until recently, 48 hours could elapse between a target being selected and a strike carried out. The time was needed to notify commanders at sea and the brass ashore that the Tomahawk cruise missiles, F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets were poised.
But when the Stennis and the eight ships in its battle group set sail from San Diego in January for a six-month deployment in the Persian Gulf, that waiting period will have shrunk to 90 minutes: Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein meet Microsoft and Dell Computer.
Computer-driven changes are also noticeable in the enlisted mess decks and the officers’ wardrooms of this nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, where 18,000 meals a day are served to 6,000 crew members.
There are more brand-name foodstuffs and better grades of meat and fish these days. Generic labels and watery catsup with the consistency of red soda pop are being phased out.
Shopping via the Internet has brought an end to the Navy’s decades-old system of centralized buying and warehousing of food, although not without a furious bureaucratic battle.
Food is now delivered directly to the ship in port or to supply ships by a Los Angeles wholesaler, U.S. Food Service. Cutting out the warehousing operation freed up money to improve the chow.
The Net also allows for tracking of replacement items, an important feature for a ship with an inventory of 125,000 items, from parts for a nuclear reactor to toilet paper.
“Under the old system you operated in the blind--hoping the item was en route because somebody said they’d ship it to you,” said Cmdr. Mike Plunkett, the Stennis’ supply officer.
The third essential item--news from home--is where the change is most dramatic. Old salts who remember being out of touch with their families for weeks, even months, during sea duty might not recognize the new e-mail-proficient Navy.
“On my first deployment, we were lucky to get four 25-word messages out to our families in six months,” said Adm. Archie Clemins, father of the massive upgrade program, known as Information Technology-21. “Now it’s [standard] for every sailor to be able to get a message home every day.”
The goal of IT-21 is to provide real-time tactical information to help U.S. forces at sea be ready to strike whenever and wherever the commander-in-chief directs, with as few casualties as possible. E-mailing is only a side benefit but one with significant morale-boosting appeal.
Jennifer Morgan, 22, an aviation bosun’s mate who works in the flight-deck control room, sends daily e-mail messages to her mother in Oklahoma City asking about her cat and fish and whether the roof has been repaired since the tornado.
“It helps with the homesickness,” Morgan said. “My mom sends me messages telling me to be careful.”
Even with e-mail, the arrival of letters from home will remain a cherished event aboard ship. “Until they learn how to download a batch of cookies from your wife or mother, something mailed from home is still going to be important,” said Ensign Rodney Moss, the flight deck officer.
But every sailor seemingly has a story to tell about letters from loved ones getting lost or delayed for weeks or arriving with cryptic references such as “the doctor is much more encouraged now about my condition” that make no sense without the earlier, errant missives.
“Navy delivery of mail is great until the plane breaks down in the Azores,” cracked Cmdr. Paul “Moose” Susalla, who regularly e-mails his wife, Dixie, in Bonita, Calif.
The availability of e-mail varies among the 190 ships of the Pacific Fleet, depending on location and equipment. Carriers have 24-hour uplink to satellites; other ships have lesser service. Submarines have to raise an antenna.
Messages can be of virtually unlimited length. Pictures can be loaded from digital cameras. And the service is free--unlike the $1-a-minute “sailor phones” aboard some ships.
A ship captain can turn off the e-mail function if he needs additional bandwidth for higher-priority information or if hostilities are imminent.
In the days before last summer’s strikes against terrorist strongholds in Sudan and Afghanistan, there were no e-mails going out from several ships armed with Tomahawk missiles.
Even when the geopolitical mood is outwardly calm, sailors are warned not to mention sensitive information such as the location of the ship, the kind of exercises underway, and the date and location of the next port call.
“Believe me, the bad guys are reading our e-mail and listening to our sailor phones,” Capt. Richard Gallagher, the Stennis’ skipper, told his crew on a recent training cruise. “So please be careful.”
E-mails go on the unclassified Internet side of the system. By using browsers, a select number of sailors also have access to private Web sites, subject to the usual rules found in most civilian workplaces: no perusing or downloading pornography, no use of the Net for commercial purposes and the like.
Classified information--between ships or from ships to land-based commands--is sent on the closed intranet side, with firewalls designed to keep the information safe from prying eyes.
Just how safe is unclear.
As the Stennis and other ships prepare for deployment, Navy computer technicians and civilian consultants ashore--”twentysomethings with messy hair and tennis shoes,” said one officer--are trying to hack into the intranet system.
“We know they’re going to bust us,” said Lt. Cmdr. Alan Lewis, the ship’s combat information systems officer. “But when they do, we’ll be able to find out where the holes are in the systems.”
If the bad guys are reading unclassified e-mail sent through the Internet, they’ve got quite a reading load.
Take just one medium-size ship, the guided missile destroyer Hayler. During a recent five-month deployment, the Hayler’s 340 crew members sent 127,000 e-mails--that’s the equivalent of more than two messages per day per sailor.
Dawna Burger, 23, a petty officer 3rd class on the Stennis, exchanges e-mail with her brother in La Mesa, Calif.; her sister in Santa Maria, Calif., and her mother in Menominee, Mich. “It keeps them from worrying so much about me,” she said.
