Monthly Archives: April 2020

We’re Here. Now What? How the Cold War Froze NASA

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It seemed like a good idea at the time.

It was April 1961. The Soviet Union’s Yuri Gagarin had just become the first person to orbit the Earth. America’s nascent Mercury program had not yet launched a single astronaut into space. It would be more than a year until John Glenn would become the first American in orbit.

Until Gagarin’s flight there had been no U.S. government push to counter the Soviet space program. In October 1957, the unanticipated launch of the Soviet Sputnik – the first satellite to be launched into orbit by any nation – had sparked a wave of soul-searching by American commentators. But the U.S. government response had been measured and low-key.  President Dwight Eisenhower was uninterested in engaging in a costly public space race for which the prize would be little more than prestige.

By 1958 America had two space programs that were making steady and sustainable progress. One program was an Air Force research effort into hypersonic flight centered on the X-15 rocket plane while the second program was the newly-created National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s (NASA) Project Mercury – America’s first manned spaceflight project.  Money was tight and both projects were pushing the boundaries of technology, but both were progressing. Eisenhower had no interest in an expensive crash program focused on catching the Soviet Union that would inject a heavy dose of Cold War politics into aerospace research efforts.  At first, neither did President John F. Kennedy, who took office in January 1961. In the middle of his inaugural address, Kennedy even suggested that America and the Soviet Union might work together to explore space.

But Kennedy was taken aback by the large and overwhelmingly positive international response to Gagarin’s flight on April 12, 1961. He believed that a continuous string of Soviet space firsts – spectaculars, he called them – could significantly damage America’s standing around the world and would provide the USSR with a powerful advantage in the ongoing Cold War. Kennedy was a thoughtful and dispassionate politician, but he was a product of his times, which is to say he was an ardent cold warrior.

Havana. Cuba. First cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin officially welcomed in Cuba. Photo TASS / Valentin Sobolev

A Popped Cork

The U.S. space program had already experienced its own string of “spectaculars,” but they weren’t the kind of results that NASA and Kennedy were looking for.

On December 1957, two months after the Soviets succeeded in putting Sputnik into orbit, America’s first attempt at launching a satellite – Vanguard 1A – failed spectacularly when the rocket lost thrust shortly after liftoff. Having risen only four feet off the launch pad, the rocket fell back and exploded, throwing the satellite a short distance away where it began transmitting its beacon signal.

In November 1960, a similar accident occurred during a test launch of a Mercury-Redstone rocket – the vehicle that was slated to carry America’s first astronauts. With 500 invited guests watching in stunned silence, the rocket’s engine inexplicably shut down two seconds after liftoff. The vehicle had barely left the launch pad – its height was estimated at four inches – when the engine cut off and it slowly settled back down on the pad, balanced precariously on its now-silent engine. Reacting to the shutoff, the capsule’s automatic safety systems engaged. First, the capsule’s rocket-powered escape tower was jettisoned, blasting away from the capsule. Then, with rocket and capsule still teetering on the pad, the capsule’s parachutes deployed, draping the unsteady vehicle in shrouds of billowing nylon. In his 1979 book, The Right Stuff, Thomas Wolfe famously likened the event to a cork popping out of a bottle of Spumante.

Less amusing and decidedly more alarming was the failure of a Mercury-Atlas test launch on April 25 1961 – less than two weeks before the first manned Mercury flight would take place, though that flight would use a Redstone rocket.  Minutes after launch, the Atlas rocket malfunctioned and had to be destroyed, raining debris over the launch complex and nearby Cocoa Beach.

Changing the Narrative

Of course, America’s testing failures were public knowledge, while the Soviet program was shrouded in secrecy which hid errors, mistakes and other misfortunes from the public and, more gravely, from American intelligence agencies. In truth, NASA was not significantly behind the Soviets in any aspect of space exploration, though that was not clear at the time. But perceptions matter, and Kennedy wanted to change the common narrative that the USSR was leading the United States. He hoped that a NASA spectacular – the good kind – would re-establish American pre-eminence in science, technology, and engineering.

So, Kennedy asked NASA officials what milestone could America reach before the Soviets.  The answer: a Moon landing. Accordingly, on May 25, 1961 – twenty days after Alan Shepard became the first American in space – Kennedy publicly announced his goal of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to Earth before the end of the decade.

President John F. Kennedy in his historic message to a joint session of the Congress, on May 25, 1961 declared, “…I believe this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to the Earth.” Photo credit: NASA

Kennedy was prepared to pay for his vision. In July 1961, he submitted to Congress a new NASA budget that increased the agency’s spending authority by 89 percent and funded the start of construction of extensive space centers at Cape Canaveral and Houston. That was just the beginning. Congress followed the president’s lead and approved massive budget increases for NASA over the next several years. The agency’s budget, which had been a modest $500 million per year in 1960, reached $5 billion per year by 1965, fully 4.3 percent of the overall federal budget. Ultimately, Project Apollo would cost $151 billion (in 2010 dollars) and involve 400,000 workers.

The presidential challenge energized the news media and the nation, while the subsequent infusion of cash energized NASA. Suddenly, a program that had been quietly plodding along in relative obscurity was one of the highest priorities of the federal government. Kennedy made his intentions explicit in a November 1962 meeting, when he told NASA officials that the Moon landing was to be NASA’s top priority, and, along with defense, one of the two top priorities of the federal government.

Kennedy’s goal was ambitious yet achievable, and success would overshadow all the earlier Soviet ‘spectaculars.’  It was the quintessential Cold War program – technologically challenging, hugely expensive, and focused on short-term results rather than any long-range strategic vision.

What Could Possibly Go Wrong

While NASA met Kennedy’s goal – Apollo 11 landed on the moon on July 20, 1969 – the unintended consequences of making the program a centerpiece of the Cold War were dispiriting. And throughout the Cold War, there were always unintended consequences.

Apollo 11 liftoff, July 16, 1969. Photo credit: NASA

Flush with cash, backed by the president, popular with Congress and the public, NASA was unprepared for its new role as a Cold War standard bearer. Everything about the organization changed overnight: its budget; its management practices; the size of its workforce; its public profile; its political importance; and most importantly, the relentless pressure to meet deadlines. The technological challenges of lunar landings remained, but now they were accompanied by the need to learn an entire new way of operating.

Drafting NASA to serve on the front lines of the Cold War fundamentally and irrevocably changed the agency and America’s manned space program.  With virtually unlimited resources the agency was willing to tolerate a greater level of waste and inefficiency. Under intense pressure to meet deadlines the agency accepted a higher level of risk for astronauts. With a total commitment to a lunar landing, the agency had no time for long-range strategic thinking. Through no fault of its own, NASA had traded a methodical and sustainable long-term approach to space exploration for a mad dash to an artificial and arbitrary finish line.

The Politics Changed

By linking its program to Cold War politics, NASA became vulnerable to changes in the political situation. If national priorities shifted, the agency might find itself adrift. Which is exactly what happened.

By 1963, the Cold War landscape had changed significantly. Appalled by the terrifying ease with which the United States and the Soviet Union had stumbled to the brink of nuclear war during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, Kennedy was looking for a way to reduce tensions with Russia. In June 1963 he re-opened negotiations with the USSR to ban nuclear testing. The Test Ban Treaty would be signed in August of that year.

On June 10, 1963, Kennedy gave a speech titled “A Strategy of Peace” at American University in which he earnestly suggested ways that America and the Soviet Union could improve relations and lower the risk of nuclear war. He was clearly looking to defuse the Cold War.

With the political importance of the space program fading, Kennedy and Congress were growing concerned about the cost of Apollo. While generally popular, the program had faced criticism for years about the share of government funds it was consuming. Democrats and Republicans believed that there were more pressing needs for federal funding than a wildly expensive race to the Moon. In 1963, Congress had cut NASA’s budget by 10 percent, a harbinger of much more severe cuts to come.

On September 20 1963, Kennedy spoke before the United Nations General Assembly on the need to reduce tensions. He proposed several areas where the US and USSR could cooperate, including, “… joint efforts in the regulation and exploration of space. I include among these possibilities a joint expedition to the Moon.”

Kennedy’s call for a joint US-Soviet space program stunned Congress and NASA. The space agency was already struggling to manage the huge number of contractors involved in the program. Bringing in the Soviets would multiply the project’s difficulty, NASA officials told Kennedy. The Soviets themselves showed no interest.

Kennedy didn’t give up on the idea, and in November 1963 he directed NASA administrator James Webb to prepare a plan for cooperation in lunar landing programs. Before the end of the month, however, Kennedy was dead, assassinated in Dallas. Overnight the Apollo program became a memorial to the slain president, and changes to the program or cuts to its budget became unthinkable.

So, Apollo continued on as before, a high-visibility, crash program that was overwhelmingly focused on meeting an unrealistic schedule.

 Safety Wasn’t Job One

NASA technicians and Apollo astronauts recognized the risks involved in pushing the program’s pace. Author George Leopold, in his 2016 biography of astronaut Gus Grissom, described the lethal impact of NASA’s fixation on Kennedy’s end-of-decade target as “Slipshod engineering, distracted management, poor quality control, (and) inattention to test data…”

According to Leopold, the pace and scale of the Apollo program, “… outpaced the ability of engineers and managers to keep up with details of arguably the largest technological endeavor since World War II.” The level of risk that NASA tolerated during Apollo far exceeded the level accepted during the Mercury and Gemini programs.

Astronaut Wally Schirra was concerned about crew safety, the inability to fix problems, and the tight schedule while NASA flight director Chris Kraft said, “We were willing to put up with a lot of poor hardware and poor preparation in order to try to get on with the job. And a lot us knew that we were doing that.“

Grissom, wrote Leopold, was especially concerned about the poor workmanship and poor design of the Apollo 1 capsule that he was to ride into space. Grissom and his crew spent months working with representatives of the spacecraft manufacturer to identify and repair problems with critical systems.

On January 27 1967, Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chafee were killed when fire swept through their spacecraft during a launch rehearsal test. An extensive NASA review of the accident identified the cause of the fire and analyzed the entire Apollo program and its management. As a result of the fire, NASA created an Office of Flight Safety, independent of flight program management. The Safety Office would review all aspects of design, manufacturing, test and flight from a safety standpoint.

Apollo 1 capsule after deadly fire. Photo credit: NASA

Despite a delay of twenty months, during which NASA re-designed the Apollo command module and implemented numerous safety procedures, the agency met Kennedy’s goal when Apollo 11 landed on the Moon in July 1969.

We’re here. Now what?

By providing a clearly-defined goal and nearly unlimited resources, Kennedy’s involvement was critical to NASA’s short-term success. But by focusing so narrowly on the goal of a Moon landing before 1970, NASA traveled down a dead-end path.

Apollo’s hardware, procedures, processes, and management practices were optimized for landing on the Moon as quickly as possible. Once that was accomplished, the agency found itself adrift. Budgets were slashed, no further direction was provided by the White House, and the agency was saddled with a vast and expensive network of facilities and suppliers.

Within a year of Apollo’s historic mission, President Nixon canceled the final three planned Apollo moon landings. Between 1969 and 1972, twelve Americans walked on the moon. No American has gone beyond low earth orbit since.

NASA proposed to follow Apollo with a program to build a large space station to support an eventual manned mission to Mars. But funding for such a project was never seriously considered. NASA’s budget was cut to less than $3.5 billion per year, 25 percent of the share of the federal budget that the agency had enjoyed previously.

Without the urgency of a Cold War mission, NASA was forced to compete for funding with hundreds of federal agencies and programs. And so far, they haven’t done as well as they would like. From time to time ambitious programs to return to the Moon or explore Mars have been proposed, but none have come to fruition.

Had Apollo not been transformed into a Cold War asset, NASA’s manned spaceflight program would likely have continued on a slower, less expensive, more sustainable path that might have included additional exploration of the Moon, construction of a series of increasingly complex space stations in Earth orbit to master the skills needed to live and work in space, establishment of permanent colonies on the Moon, and preparation for manned missions beyond the Earth-Moon system.

April 23, 2020

For more information see:

Fishman, Charles; One Giant Leap: The Impossible Mission That Flew Us to the Moon; Simon and Schuster; New York; 2019.

Leopold, George: Calculated Risk: The Supersonic Life and Times of Gus Grissom; Purdue University Press; West Lafayette, IN; 2016.

Logsdon, John M.: John F. Kennedy and the Race to the Moon; Palgrave Macmillan, New York; 2010.

Logsdon, John M. “John F. Kennedy’s Space Legacy and Its Lessons for Today.” Issues in Science and Technology 27, no. 3 (Spring 2011).  https://issues.org/p_logsdon-3/  Retrieved 7.24.2019.

Wolfe, Thomas; The Right Stuff; Farrar, Straus, Giroux; New York; 1979.

Achenbach, Joel; How Did NASA Put Men on the Moon: One Harrowing Step at a Time: https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/2019/06/19/how-did-nasa-put-men-moon-one-harrowing-step-time/?utm_term=.dabb26a16abf&wpisrc=nl_most&wpmm=1   Retrieved 7.21.2019.

Glass, Andrew; JFK Proposes Joint Lunar Expedition With Soviets, Sept. 20, 1963; https://www.politico.com/story/2017/09/20/jfk-proposes-joint-lunar-expedition-with-soviets-sept-20-1963-242843  Retrieved 4.21.2020.

Grush, Loren; Apollo Was NASA’s Biggest Win, But Its Legacy is Holding the Agency Back; https://www.theverge.com/2019/7/16/18663190/apollo-11-legacy-nasa-artemis-program-deep-space-human-exploration   Retrieved 7.21.2019.

Kennedy, John F.; Address Before the 18th General Assembly of the United Nations, September 20, 1963: https://www.jfklibrary.org/archives/other-resources/john-f-kennedy-speeches/united-nations-19630920   Retrieved 4.20.2020.

Petty, Chris: Apollo, I Still Love You, but…; https://thehighfrontier.blog/2016/01/25/apollo-i-still-love-you-but/   Retrieved 7.26.2019.

Wall, Mike; Space Race: Could the U.S. Have Beaten the Soviets Into Space? https://www.space.com/11336-space-race-united-states-soviets-spaceflight-50years.html  Retrieved 4.16.2020.

Shape the Future by Building Community Resilience Today

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The future looks ominous, but for emergency managers, it always has.

Since emergency management emerged as a specialized discipline in the mid-twentieth century, practitioners have always seen a future filled with disasters. Recall that today’s emergency management agencies are descended from Cold War civil defense organizations which were created in response to the terrifying threat of nuclear holocaust.

Thankfully, Nuclear Armageddon seems less likely today, but a look at our future might be only slightly less harrowing. Sea levels are rising, weather patterns are changing, storms are becoming more destructive, our infrastructure is deteriorating, our vulnerability to cyber attacks is increasing, federal funding for emergency management is almost certain to decline, our population is aging, more people are choosing to live in disaster-prone areas, and economic inequality and political tribalism are driving a wedge through the hearts of our communities.

Our problems are getting worse and our ability to address them is declining.

Graphic from https://www.climate.gov/news-features/blogs/beyond-data/2017-us-billion-dollar-weather-and-climate-disasters-historic-year

But we are not powerless in the face of these threats. We can, in fact, take action today to improve our community’s ability to respond to future disasters of all types – including destructive weather, technological accidents, terror attacks, pandemics, income inequality, job losses, and other long or short-term hazards. As emergency mangers we can take the lead in building community resilience.

Building resilience is not a new idea, but for most communities it will require a shift in perspective, a focused educational campaign, and an unwavering commitment from community leaders. And emergency managers are perfectly positioned to lead the way.

What is Resilience?

Resilient communities recover from disaster faster, more completely, and more efficiently than less resilient communities. When recovering from disaster, they don’t just replace what was lost, they build a stronger community that is better prepared for future disasters. Before disaster strikes, they focus on the future and they anticipate future risks. They understand their strengths and weaknesses, they learn from their mistakes, and they correct them. They are well-governed, well-connected, and they are backed by a diverse and solid local economy. Most importantly, they create a culture of collaboration, they strengthen community ties, and they act with a sense of purpose and urgency.

Resilience encompasses every aspect of a community’s life. Infrastructure, social capital, community cohesion, geography, demographics, mitigation, preparedness, planning, and the strength of the local economy all determine how effectively a community can adapt to chronic and acute stresses.  Some people equate resilience with preparedness, but resilience is much broader. While disaster preparedness is certainly part of resilience, it is only one part of many.  Resilient communities are prepared, but prepared communities are not necessarily resilient.

Resilient communities aren’t problem-free.  But when problems arise, community members identify the root causes, come together to develop community-wide solutions, and cooperate to address those causes. Residents of resilient communities are confident in their ability to come together to solve problems and create a strong, vibrant community that works for all of its members.

A large-scale disaster will be a huge problem for any community. But resilient communities that have experienced success in handling lesser problems will have the confidence and skills to recover quickly and completely from natural and man-made disasters.  Resilient communities are less vulnerable, suffer less damage from disasters, recover faster, require less outside assistance, and are better places to live. For emergency managers, resilience is a force-multiplier.

This affordable house, built under the “Habitat Strong” program, is one of six that survived Hurricane Michael unscathed. Surrounding older homes show severe roof damage.
(Photo credit: Journal of Light Construction: https://www.jlconline.com/projects/disaster-resistant-building/surviving-hurricane-habitat-houses-offer-lessons_o)

FEMA and the National Emergency Management Association (NEMA) both recognize the value of resilience. FEMA has a Resilience Directorate that combines mitigation administration, continuity programs, grant programs, federal insurance administration, and national preparedness. FEMA also offers an eight-hour course on building resilience (AWR-228: Community Resilience). NEMA and the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) are collaborating on a project to improve community resilience through enhanced risk assessments, information sharing, planning, mitigation, recovery efforts, and investments. Other organizations that provide guidance for communities seeking to build resilience include the Global Resilience Institute (GRI) at Northeastern University, 100 Resilient Cities, and Resilient Communities For America.

The Role of Emergency Managers

But if the keys to resilience are good governance, a strong economy, community connections, committed leadership, a culture of collaboration, and a healthy and prosperous population, how much impact can emergency managers have?  These issues are far beyond the responsibilities or resources of emergency management agencies.

A large impact, actually.  Emergency managers are remarkably well-positioned to lead community-wide efforts at building resilience. Emergency managers are recognized experts in mitigation, preparedness, response, and disaster recovery planning – the foundation of resilience. In addition, emergency managers are experienced at working with people from multiple agencies and multiple disciplines; have a regional perspective; understand the concept of the whole-community; and are experienced at conducting large-scale public education campaigns.

By virtue of their professional knowledge, their position in the community, and their experience, emergency managers are perfectly suited to start, sustain, and shape a community-wide conversation about resilience.

Building Resilience

Like preparedness, there is no resilience end state, no point where an emergency manager can say, “Today we achieved resilience.” Instead, there is a spectrum of resilience, and every community sits somewhere on the line between ‘less resilient’ and ‘more resilient.’ Your community’s task, then, is not to achieve resilience, but to become more resilient. Since there is no resilience end state, there is no end to the process of building resilience. Creating a more resilient community requires a never-ending commitment to consider the impact on resilience of virtually every community investment decision. Each proposal for a new housing development or commercial building; for upgrades to water, sewer, or transportation systems; for updated building or zoning codes; or for new social programs is an opportunity to increase community resilience.

Failing to take advantage of these opportunities will not only slow progress towards greater resilience, it may actually push a community towards the ‘less resilient’ end of the spectrum.

Building resilience takes the whole community and it must be consciously pursued all the time. While specific initiatives like infrastructure hardening or disaster-resistant building codes can increase community resilience, the total effort must be holistic, synthesizing political, economic, and social improvements to create a stronger community.

A community that wants to increase resilience must have four key attributes: committed leadership, a shared vision, a culture of collaboration, and a sense of urgency.

Here are seven things emergency managers can do to help their communities become more resilient:

  1. Understand the problem: Learn all you can about resilience and how it can help your community. Review current research and review the websites of organizations that promote resilience.
  2. Complete a community risk assessment. Your community may already have a regional risk assessment, like a Threat and Hazard Identification and Risk Assessment (THIRA). If not, you will need to produce one. A risk assessment and gap analysis will provide accurate baseline information to inform later resilience planning. Your assessment should identify your community’s threats, vulnerabilities, capabilities, and any capability gaps.
  3. Educate your own organization. Start your resilience-building project by convincing the leaders of your own organization of the benefits of community resilience. If your own organization does not fully embrace the project, it will be very difficult to convince others.
  4. Introduce the concept to the community. Educate key community leaders and residents about the importance of resilience, how it will benefit your community, and how your community can become more resilient. Schedule one-on-one meetings, speak to groups and include resilience planning in your public outreach messaging. Your goal should be to build consensus, create allies, and, if possible, identify a key leader who can champion the effort.
  5. Bring stakeholders together. Organize a workshop, seminar, or other event to bring community stakeholders together to begin the process of building resilience. Representatives from all sectors, including government, non-governmental organizations, regional agencies, educational institutions, community groups, faith-based organizations, critical infrastructure operators, and business leaders should be invited.
  6. Create a formal resilience planning organization. This group should be responsible for developing the community’s shared vision and managing the resilience planning project. This organization may require a full-time chairperson.
  7. Create and maintain a sense of urgency. This is a long-term project that will not produce fast results. Maintain community interest and energy by continually supporting resilience-building efforts.

Final Thoughts

Building resilience requires a never-ending, concerted effort by all elements of the community, but the results will benefit every resident and organization. As an emergency manager, you can play a key role in starting, shaping, and sustaining your community’s effort to build resilience.

July 22, 2019

This article was originally published in the August 2019 edition of the International Association of Emergency Manager’s online Bulletin: https://www.iaem.org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=3LXHvwqlMYk%3d&portalid=25

Title image:

Satellite imagery of the US Atlantic Coast with Hurricane Dorian in the morning of 2 September 2019

(Photo credit: NOAA)

Anti-Viral Baseball

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Major League Baseball (MLB) is desperately looking for ways to salvage at least a potion of their 2020 profits, er, season.  Since it seems unlikely that mass gatherings will be permitted before autumn, team owners are considering plans to host teams in Florida and/or Arizona to play an abbreviated schedule in empty ballparks.

Several teams – Tampa Bay, Oakland, Cleveland, and others – have argued that their teams do not actually draw large crowds, especially toward the end of the season, but these teams are not expected to receive waivers.

While some options have been disclosed publicly, other possible changes to the rules of baseball that might allow major league games to resume have not been publicly revealed.

Until now, it seems.

Here is what we know about potential changes to baseball to make it more virus-resistant.

Benches will be removed from the dugouts and bullpens and will replaced by individual chairs anchored six feet apart.

Players and umpires will be required to stay six feet apart at all times. This will move the catcher back six feet from home plate and the plate umpire six feet behind the catcher. First basemen will not be able to hold baserunners close to the bag. To prevent an avalanche of stolen bases, runners will be limited to leads of no more than six feet.

To prevent defenders from having to tag out baserunners, they will be permitted to throw the ball at the runner from six feet or more away.  If the ball hits the runner before the runner reaches the base, he will be out. Infielders may relay their throws to the first baseman, who will throw the ball at the runner. Alternatively, infielders may hit the runner directly with their throws. If the defender must move to within six feet of the base to receive a throw, he will have to retreat to a distance of six feet from the base before he can throw the ball at the runner. Runners will be required to wear chest protectors and shin guards.

All players will wear masks at all times. Since all players will be masked, pitchers and catchers will no longer have to cover their mouths with their gloves when they hold mini-conferences in the mound. During such conferences, players must remain six feet apart. To prevent opposing players from hearing these discussions, stadium organists will play the 1812 Overture at the highest volume setting while pitches and catchers are conversing.

No mound visits from coaches or position players will be permitted. Managers or pitching coaches may send one written note to each pitcher per inning. The notes will be carried to within six feet of the mound by batboys equipped with N95 masks, face screens, and bio-hazard protective suits.

Houston players must remain six feet away from any trash cans in the tunnel behind their dugout.

Walk-off-win celebrations will be conducted on Zoom.

April 11, 2020

A Dark Place

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A reminder on what would have been Opening Day. Today we are in a dark place. But at some point, we are going to come out of the shadows and back into the sunlight. Our journey will be shorter and easier if we make the effort now to act with compassion and consideration for others. If you have an opportunity to ease someone else’s burden, now would be a good time to consider it. The Red Cross needs blood. Food banks need donations. Other people need a few of those antibacterial wipes you have stacked in the basement. Everyone needs you to be careful, for your sake as well as theirs.

March 26, 2020

No One-Night Stand: LT Clark’s Improbable Mission at Inchon

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They needed a team of Navy SEALs. They got a 39-year-old lieutenant and two Korean intelligence officers.

It was late August, 1950. The Korean War was two months old. Officers on General Douglas MacArthur’s Far East Forces staff were struggling to complete plans for an amphibious assault at Inchon. The invasion would land two American divisions in the rear of the North Korean People’s Army, which had pushed US and South Korean forces into a small toehold at Pusan.

Somehow MacArthur’s planners had scraped together enough ships, supplies, and men for the operation. But with less than three weeks left until the landing, planners knew next to nothing about the geography of the landing area, and what they did know was terrifying. A narrow ten-mile channel to the landing zones. Thirty-foot tides, a four-knot current. No beaches. Miles of mud flats. Had the North Koreans mined the approaches to the landing sites? Was the channel threatened by artillery? Was the area heavily defended? Could vehicles cross the mudflats? How strong was the current? Was the tidal range really 30 feet?

Inchon was occupied by North Korean troops. The South Korean government had fled in disarray. The American Far East command had never thoroughly surveyed the port. Charts and tide tables available in Tokyo were old and might be inaccurate. If a ship ran aground, struck a mine, or was disabled by shellfire in the narrow channel leading to the landing areas, the entire operation could fail.

They needed someone on the ground to survey the area, measure the seawalls, check the consistency of the mud flats, confirm the depth of the water, observe the tides, and locate defensive emplacements for pre-landing bombardments. Today, if satellite imagery and Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance (ISR) flights couldn’t answer their questions, they would send a team of fabulously trained, expensively equipped, and ruthlessly determined Navy SEALS.  In 1950, they sent LT Eugene Clark, a 39-year-old former Chief Yeoman assigned to the Geography Section of MacArthur’s Far East Command in Tokyo.

Right Down the Hall

While something less than an obvious choice, Clark did have a number of attributes that the planners valued. First of all, he was available. Right down the hall, in fact. Second, he had participated in amphibious landings against the Japanese during the Pacific War, so he knew the type of information the planners needed. Third, he had briefly served as captain of both an LST and an attack transport, so he was exceptionally familiar with the types of ships that would make the landing. Fourth, he had participated in clandestine operations along the Chinese coast, assisting the Chinese Nationalists in their civil war against the Chinese Communists. Fifth, he had been working on plans for the Inchon landing since July, so he knew the details of the assault. Sixth, he was – apparently – insanely courageous.

And, of course, there were no Navy SEALs in 1950. That program wouldn’t be established until 1962. During World War II, the US military had employed various amphibious scouting and Underwater Demolition Team (UDT) units to perform beach reconnaissance ahead of amphibious landings. Most such units were disbanded at the end of the war, but a handful of UDTs remained in service and two teams actually supported the Inchon invasion by landing ahead of the assault troops, scouting the mud flats, marking low points in the channel, clearing fouled propellers, and searching for mines.

But those operations wouldn’t happen until just hours remained before the landings, and MacArthur’s planners needed information now. So, on 26 August, they turned to Clark. The landing was scheduled for 15 September and Clark and whatever team he could assemble needed to be at Inchon by 1 September.

Approaches to Inchon
(Map from Naval History and Heritage Command)

No One-Night Stand

This would be no one-night recon operation: the plan was for Clark and a small team to set up a base on one of the islands in Inchon’s outer harbor. From there, they would conduct forays to the landing sites, reconnoiter other nearby islands, and obtain as much critical intelligence as they could from local residents and any prisoners they managed to capture. The fact that many of the harbor islands were already occupied by the North Koreans and that Clark and his team would have no boats of their own seemed not to matter.

Clark was no commando, and he had a comfortable job and family life in Tokyo. But he agreed to the mission, though he couldn’t tell his wife where he was going or how long he would be gone. For five days he worked with CIA planners at Far East Command headquarters to prepare for his mission. He would be accompanied by two Korean officers who had previously been assigned to the Far East staff: Korean Navy Lieutenant Youn Jong, and a former Korean counterintelligence officer, Colonel Ke In-ju.

LT Eugene Clark and Korean teammates on Yongung-do.
(Photo credit: http://www.koreanwaronline.com/arms/Clark.htm)

With no real idea of the situation they would encounter, Clark and the two Koreans collected a considerable arsenal of small arms, including .45 caliber pistols, submachine guns, rifles, hand grenades, and three .50 caliber machine guns from the armory at the Naval base at Sasebo, where a former shipmate of Clark’s was now the executive officer. They asked for mortars as well, but none were available. Time was short, Clark’s mission was urgent, and it was a simpler time. Clark’s former shipmate directed the base supply officer to provide everything on Clark’s list, and if there was something on the list they didn’t have, to get it from the army. They would fill out the paperwork later.

Sacks of rice, dried fish, tents, a shortwave radio, two cases of whiskey (to assist in extracting or purchasing information), and one million South Korean won (about $550 in US currency) were also packed. On 31 August, Clark and his team left Japan aboard a British destroyer. The next day, near Inchon, they transferred to a South Korean patrol craft, PC-703, for the final leg of their voyage.

South Korean patrol craft Sam Kak San (PC-703), formerly USS PC-802)
(Official U.S. Navy Photograph, from the collections of the Naval Historical Center.)

The PC was a former US Navy subchaser that had been given to the South Koreans and was armed with a 3-inch gun and several machine guns. The patrol craft would support Clark’s team through much of its 2-week mission. At that time, the North Koreans did not have naval craft of their own at Inchon, though they operated a number of armed junks and sampans. But the North Koreans had placed artillery on several islands and there was always a chance that they had mined the navigation channel, so the PC would have to operate with care.

So would Clark, but secrecy wasn’t part of his plan.

Building an Army

The first thing Clark did was land his team on an island several miles up the channel from Inchon. You might think they would have looked for a deserted island to keep their presence hidden from the North Koreans. Not Clark. Far from being uninhabited, the island he selected was home to 400 South Koreans and was occupied by a small detachment of North Korean Army troops, part of a garrison of 300 North Koreans based on a small island about a mile away.  At low tide, it would be possible for North Korean soldiers to wade across the channel separating the islands.  Within hours of landing, Clark and his team had killed four North Korean soldiers who were trying to escape by boat. It was certain, then, that North Korean troops would be back. It was just a question of when.

But Clark and his team had brought enough weapons to outfit a small army, and that’s what they started to do. Recruiting from among the hundred or so young men on the island, they created and armed an impromptu defense force which they hoped would be able to fend off any attacks until the invasion force appeared. They realized that there were probably Communist sympathizers on the island who would betray them to the North Koreans at the first opportunity, so they would try to guard against that, as well.

Stealing a Navy

Established on the island, their next task was to develop a plan for inspecting the landing sites, the channel, the mud flats, and the island of Wolmi-do, a rocky little peak that overlooked the landing areas and would have to be neutralized before the main landings.

With a need to get closer to Wolmi-do and Inchon, and without boats of their own, they simply stole a small fleet. Using a steam-powered fishing sampan belonging to an island resident that Clark christened “the flagship,” Clark and his team motored into the channel and seized a small flotilla of sail-powered sampans and junks.

Brought to Clark’s island base, the operators of most of the captured craft were happy to provide information about the channel, the tides, the currents, and North Korean defenses. Several offered to join Clark’s growing little band, and they were soon sent out on surveillance missions, examining the port of Inchon, Wolmi-do, and surrounding areas to look for signs of enemy troop concentrations and gun emplacements.

For the next week, Clark and his team gathered critical information and radioed it back to planners in Tokyo. But each night, North Korean infiltrators crossed over to his island. Some were killed, but Clark knew that an unknown number were now at large on his base.

Staying to the End

On September 7, British warships bombarded Inchon from the outer harbor. That night, a motorized sampan and three sailing sampans filled with North Korean troops were spotted in the channel heading for Clark’s island. Clark and his team quickly set out in their little flagship, hurriedly propping a .50 caliber machine gun atop sandbags.  Although the powered North Korean vessel opened fire with an anti-tank gun, Clark bored in and destroyed the vessel and one of the sailing sampans with machine gun fire.

Back ashore, Clark radioed for assistance from PC-703, as he was certain that a heavier North Korean attack was imminent. But the next day, instead of the South Korean patrol craft, a U.S. destroyer, USS Hanson, appeared. Hanson had been ordered to evacuate Clark and his team, but, by now unsurprisingly, Clark refused. There was still a week before the invasion and he believed he could provide more critical information. Instead, he asked Hanson to bombard the island where the North Korean attackers were based.

USS Hanson (DD 832) supported LT Clark by shelling North Korean positions before the Inchon invasion.
(Photo credit: NAVSOURCE http://www.navsource.org/archives/05/pix2/0583232.jpg )

The shore bombardment bought Clark some time, and for the next few nights he and his team surveyed Inchon and tested the mud flats to see if they would support vehicles. They wouldn’t, and Clark sent that info on to Tokyo. He also informed planners that Japanese tidal charts were more accurate than the charts the Americans had prepared and he sent information on the placement of artillery on Wolmi-do. One of his sampans even towed a handful of floating mines out of the navigation channel.

Clark’s reports were forwarded to strike planners and soon Wolmi-do was plastered with explosives from US ships and aircraft.

Lighting the Beacon

Finally, 14 September arrived. That night the invasion would begin. Earlier, Clark had figured out how to relight the channel lighthouse on Palmi-do island and had offered to do so. Invasion planners had asked him to light the beacon at midnight on the 14th. But late that day, as Clark was packing his gear, his lookouts spotted more than 400 North Korean troops approaching by boat and on foot, wading across the narrow channel.

There was no chance that Clark and his ragged self-defense force could beat back this attack. Clark hastily organized a delaying force and ordered everyone else to escape by boat while he and his original teammates made their way by sampan to Palmi-do and its lighthouse.

Sometime after midnight, Clark managed to relight the lamp in the lighthouse and the invasion was a spectacular success. The next morning, Clark and his South Korean lieutenants made their way to the force flagship, where they reported the end of their mission. Clark begged the staff to order troops to his former island base, to rescue the civilians that had refused to evacuate and the defenders that had stayed behind.

Low tide at Inchon.
(Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives.)

They Paid the Price

But it was 24 hours before Marines could be spared to take the little island. By then, the North Koreans had not only overrun the few defenders that remained, they had also executed at least fifty villagers that they suspected of helping the Americans.

Eugene Clark received the Silver Star for his efforts at Inchon. During his two-week mission, the sleep-deprived and exhausted Clark lost 40 pounds. That might have been enough for most officers. But Clark was not most officers.

For the next two months he led a series of South Korean guerilla raids along the coast of North Korea, gathering intelligence and capturing small islands that the Americans would use to rescue pilots who had to ditch damaged aircraft. On October, working near the mouth of the Yalu River, Clark’s Korean agents reported that the Chinese were massing for an enormous attack against the UN forces. Clark sent a warning to Tokyo, but his warning, like so many others, was discounted and the eventual Chinese offensive drove the unprepared UN forces south past Seoul.

In 1951, Clark led one final commando-style raid, as he and a small team came ashore at Communist-occupied Wonsan to find out if rumors of an outbreak of bubonic plague were true. Clark’s team penetrated a Chinese Communist hospital and the team doctor examined two patients, who turned out to have smallpox, not plague. That information saved UN forces the formidable task of inoculating hundreds of thousands of soldiers against plague. This mission earned Clark a Navy Cross.

Clark retired from the Navy in 1966, having risen to the rank of commander. He died peacefully in 1968.

March 25, 2019

For a full recounting of LT Clark’s mission, see The Secrets of Inchon, by CDR Eugene Clark, USN; P. Putnam’s Sons, NY; 2002.

The Pilot was the Computer: Dauntless Dive Bombers at Midway

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They were the Navy’s last chance.

It was 10:20 am on Thursday, June 4, 1942. Forty-seven U. S. Navy dive bombers had found what they were looking for. Far below, four Japanese aircraft carriers were launching the first planes of a massive strike that could decide the Battle of Midway. Two days of American air and submarine attacks had failed to damage a single ship of the peerless Japanese Aircraft Carrier Striking Force. The priceless intelligence advantage the Americans had gained through years of backbreaking effort by Navy codebreakers was about to be squandered. The heroic sacrifice of Navy torpedo plane crews who had pressed home their slow-motion attacks in the face of deadly Japanese opposition looked to be in vain.

But now, at the last possible moment, three squadrons of SBD Dauntless dive bombers from the American aircraft carriers USS Yorktown and USS Enterprise had arrived unobserved and unopposed in the skies above the Japanese fleet.

Somehow, against all odds, the Americans had achieved precisely the situation that Navy commanders had dreamed of: dozens of American dive bombers screaming down on Japanese flight decks jammed with fueled and armed aircraft, fueling hoses snaked about, bombs and torpedoes scattered hastily throughout the hangar bays.

The broad flight decks of the Japanese carriers were perfect targets for the American pilots whose aircraft, training, and combat tactics had been designed for precisely this type of attack. Dive bombing had been developed by the U.S. Navy in the 1930’s, and in 1942 it was the most accurate form of air attack. That was one reason that Navy carrier air groups had more dive bombers than any other type of aircraft. By pointing his plane directly at the target until he released his weapon, a skilled pilot could keep his eye on the target throughout his dive and simplify his bomb’s trajectory.

No Easy Task

But success was far from certain. This was just the second great carrier versus carrier battle of the Pacific War, and no one yet knew what to expect. Pilots from Yorktown had fought at Coral Sea, but pilots from Enterprise had not. Dive bombers from the third US carrier at Midway, USS Hornet, hadn’t even found the Japanese fleet.

Pre-war doctrine supposed that aircraft carriers couldn’t survive a massed air strike. But at Coral Sea, one month earlier, three of the four fleet aircraft carriers that were attacked – two Japanese and two American – did survive.  Yorktown was one of those survivors. Pre-war doctrine also held that B-17s could effectively bomb ships from high altitude, but attacks against Japanese ships by B-17s at Midway scored no hits. It was becoming clear that the real war was going to be different from the war that was envisioned.

The dive bombing attacks themselves would be difficult. Carriers were big targets, but they were moving fast and the American pilots would have to fly precise flight profiles to hit them. During their 40-second dives, the aviators would have to continuously work their rudder pedals and sticks to correct their plane’s speed, heading, and dive angle to remain on target while the carriers maneuvered violently. For much of the dive, the pilots could track their targets through spotting scopes, similar to the scopes that snipers mounted on their rifles. But the scopes simply provided a 3X magnified view; it was up to the pilots to make the necessary adjustments in three axes to ensure a hit.

Today A Computer Would Do It

The plane’s dive flaps held the bomber’s speed to about 276 knots, giving the pilot a little more time to make adjustments, but also making the plane an easier target for enemy anti-aircraft gunners and defending fighters. For gunners on the targeted ships, a diving plane appeared motionless, slowly growing in size as it neared, which greatly simplified their aim. Fortunately for the dive bomber crews, most antiaircraft mounts lacked the ability to fire directly up, so the amount of fire the planes received from the targeted ship was limited.

American dive bombers typically approached their targets at an altitude of around 20,000 feet, flying at more than 200 knots. When they spotted their targets, dive bomber pilots increased speed and descended to about 8,000 feet. Since Japanese ships mostly lacked radar, whenever possible the Americans approached their targets from out of the sun. When over the target, pilots pulled the noses of their planes up to put the aircraft into a stall, opened their dive flaps, and raced down toward their target.

The ideal dive angle was 70 degrees, and the dive might take 30-40 seconds. During that time the rear seat radioman/gunner – on his back, facing the sky – would be nearly weightless, and gunners have described how spent shell casings that had fallen to floor of the plane would drift up past their eyes. The pilot hoped to release his bomb when he was between 2000 and 1500 feet above the target. At that altitude the bomb would fall for less than 10 seconds, but even during that short time a ship evading at 30 kts might move 500 feet.

So, the pilot had to fly a narrow flight profile, continuously adjusting his own deflection, speed, and dive angle to correct for the movement of the target, for the effect of gravity, and for the effect of the wind on his plane and on his bomb, once it was released. He had to correctly estimate the wind direction and speed and the target ship’s current course and speed and aim where the target ship would be when the bomb reached the surface. If the dive angle was slightly off, the bomb would land short or fly past the target. If the plane’s heading was slightly off, the bomb might miss to either side.

Cockpit of SBD-6 dive bomber
(Photo credit: https://airandspace.si.edu/webimages/collections/full/2009-12496.jpg)

Since aircraft – even dive bombers – are designed to fly horizontally, putting a plane into a 70-degree dive alters the forces affecting the aircraft and causes the attacking plane to drift across the target, decreasing accuracy. Dive flaps helped correct this problem, but it was just one more thing that pilots had to contend with.

Today a computer would instantly process the flood of incoming information and fly the correct profile, but in 1942 the pilot was the computer.

Insanely Dangerous

Once the bomb was released, the aviator pulled out of his dive, a maneuver that might leave him struggling to breathe as he experienced as much as six times the force of gravity. These stresses were considerable and dive bombers were built to handle them, but pilots could be rendered briefly unconscious by the forces. If everything went well, the bomber would level off at around 500 feet and the pilot would start jinking rapidly to avoid anti-aircraft fire from enemy ships and defending fighters.

This, of course, was the primary drawback to dive bombing.  Pointing your plane at an enemy ship and diving as close as possible before releasing your weapon sounded good in theory and was accurate in practice. But finishing your bombing run directly over your target at 500 feet altitude was insanely dangerous. Shipboard gunners probably couldn’t hit you as you flashed by, just above their masts. But your escape would leave you in antiaircraft range for a long time, and at an altitude of 500 feet you would have little room to maneuver if attacked from above by enemy fighters.

The vulnerability of dive bombers after releasing their weapons was a major reason why the Germans abandoned dive bombing attacks against land targets whenever enemy fighters were present. By mid-1942, a German dive bombers’ life expectancy in combat had fallen to less than five days.

There was nothing easy about hitting a moving target at sea in the face of anti-aircraft fire or defending fighters. The plane is moving, the target is moving, and the air around the plane is moving. It takes many hours of practice and considerable skill. At Midway, Marine Corps pilots who had just received new dive bombers attacked Japanese ships using glide bombing techniques because they had not been sufficiently trained in dive bombing. They scored no hits.

By Chance A Coordinated Attack

By the time the Navy dive bombers arrived above the Japanese carriers, U.S. land-based and carrier-based planes had been attacking the Japanese formation nearly continuously for two hours. While no hits had been achieved, and more than 35 American aircraft had been shot down, the uncoordinated attacks had disrupted Japanese operations, scattered their ships, and drawn Japanese fighter planes down to the surface of the sea.

Two SBD squadrons from Enterprise arrived together, while a third squadron from Yorktown arrived simultaneously from another direction. The coordinated attack was pure chance, as the Americans had made no effort to have all of their attacking planes arrive over the Japanese fleet at the same time. The Yorktown bombers had actually taken off an hour later than the Enterprise planes.

Dive bombers, torpedo bombers, and fighters all had different ranges and speeds, and coordinating their arrival over a moving target whose location at the time of arrival could only be guessed at was impossible in 1942.  Planes could only be launched one at a time, so it might take an hour to launch a full strike force. By then, the first planes launched would have used thirty minutes or more worth of fuel circling their own ships. Without knowing exactly where the enemy ships would be when the strike would arrive, it was impossible to calculate courses and speeds that would bring all the planes over the enemy at the same time. At Midway, desperate to strike the Japanese carriers before they could attack the U.S. carriers, American commanders sent their planes off in small groups as soon as they were launched. That decision doomed the torpedo bombers – 39 of 43 were shot down – but inadvertently opened the way for the dive bombers to attack unhindered by Japanese fighters.

Communications Failures Almost Saved a Japanese Carrier

Miscommunication between the attacking SBDs almost spared one of the Japanese carriers. LCDR Wade McClusky, Enterprise Air Group Commander, wanted one of his squadrons to attack the carrier Kaga, and the second to attack carrier Akagi. But the pilots didn’t hear his instructions and both squadrons dove on Kaga. At the last moment, one of the section leaders, Lt. Richard Best, realized what was happening and redirected his five-plane section to attack Akagi. The luckless Japanese carrier was struck with just one bomb, but the secondary explosions from fueled and armed aircraft ignited massive fires that couldn’t be contained. Kaga, attacked by more than twenty planes, was struck four or five times.

Meanwhile, Yorktown’s squadron, approaching from the other side of the formation, dove on a third Japanese carrier, the Soryu, striking her with at least three bombs and leaving her aflame.  The fourth Japanese carrier, Hiryu, was hidden by a rain squall and was not attacked. This would prove disastrous for the Yorktown later, as the undamaged Hiryu would launch a retaliatory strike that would cripple the American carrier. Yorktown would be sunk on June 7 by a Japanese submarine.

By 10:25 am, three of Japan’s front-line aircraft carriers were blazing wrecks.  Later that day, Hiryu would be attacked and destroyed as well. The Japanese canceled their planned invasion of Midway and withdrew. Their attempt to destroy the U.S. carriers in a decisive battle was a failure.

Eighteen Dive Bombers Were Lost

No one knows for sure how many attacking SBDs were shot down at Midway, but it is known that 18 of the 47 dive bombers that struck the Japanese carriers that morning never made it back to their ships. Two others had to ditch near their carriers because the pilots feared they didn’t have enough fuel to actually land. Some planes were shot from the sky, others crashed into the sea when they ran out of fuel. At least three aircrewmen were plucked from the sea by the Japanese and were interrogated and executed.

Damaged VB-6 SBD-3 on USS Yorktown after the attack on Kaga at Midway.
(Official U.S. Navy photo from the U.S. Navy Naval History and Heritage Command)

During the Battle of Midway, the US deployed a total of 223 carrier aircraft and 113 land-based planes of various types, including B-17 bombers, torpedo bombers, fighters, and SBD dive bombers. But the only significant damage inflicted against the Japanese was by SBD dive bombers. Overall, the United States lost 92 officers, 215 enlisted men, an aircraft carrier, a destroyer, and approximately 150 aircraft at Midway.

A Rugged Little Plane

The U.S. Navy and Marine Corps would operate SBD Dauntless dive bombers for the rest of war, even though a replacement plane, the Curtis SB2C Helldiver, had been designed by mid-1941. But delays in development of the more powerful SB2C meant that SBD’s remained the Navy’s primary dive bomber until 1943. Marine Corps Dauntlesses operating from Henderson Field played a critical role in the Battle of Guadalcanal.

The SBD Dauntless was a rugged little plane that could absorb significant damage and still make it back, which made it popular with its crews. The plane possessed long range, good handling characteristics, maneuverability, a potent bomb load, and outstanding defensive armament. Early in the war, when US carriers operated only a single squadron of fighters, SBD’s were sometimes deployed to defend their carriers from torpedo bombers as part of a low-level combat air patrol. At the Battle of Coral Sea, while defending USS Lexington and Yorktown, SBDs shot down several Japanese torpedo bombers.

The Dauntless was one of the most successful and important US aircraft of the Pacific War. SBD’s sank more enemy shipping than any other aircraft, including six aircraft carriers, 14 cruisers, 6 destroyers, 15 transports or cargo ships, and countless smaller craft.

Nearly 6,000 SBD’s were built during the war.  A handful remain, including a veteran of the attack on Pearl Harbor and the Battle of Midway at the National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola, FL.

SBD Bureau Number 2106, is a survivor of the attack on Pearl Harbor and participated in dive bombing runs against a Japanese carrier during the pivotal Battle of Midway,
Photo credit: National Naval Aviation Museum

March 5, 2020

For more information see:

The Dauntless Dive Bomber of World War II by Barrett Tillman (US Naval Institute Press, Annapolis Md, 1976)

This article was originally published on the Military History Now website: https://militaryhistorynow.com/2020/03/08/dive-bombers-at-midway-how-the-dauntless-sbd-turned-the-tide-in-the-pacific-wars-most-important-naval-battle/