by VADM Gerald E. Miller, USN(Ret)
The reaction to Tailhook '91 was not the first time that the civil authority in the Department of Defense took a close look at the organization and its annual event. During the middle 1960s, when Robert Strange McNamara was having his way with the national assets, Tailhook came under close scrutiny and near extinction. It was able to survive by changing from social to professional seminar status.
To understand the happenings one has to know (or remember) that Naval Aviators were required to log a fixed number of flight hours every year, with a certain minimum prescribed for qualification for flight pay. Also, flying cross country in the '50s and '60s was excellent training, particularly for nuggets and jet jocks.
It was not until the late 1950s that distance measuring equipment (DME) began to provide carrier aviators with some real assistance in navigation. Until then, there was either no navigation gear at all or a low frequency homer that rarely worked well in bad weather, just when you needed it. So cross country flying was encouraged for flight time qualifications. Getting a squadron aircraft and flying to Las Vegas was a good training flight and provided an evening of fun at the same time. If you were taking a transport or multi-place bird for the trip, it was logical to load up with space available transients—and bring them back as well. So Tailhook developed into an excellent routine for combining training flights with an opportunity to give morale an uplift. No one was issued per diem orders. All expenses were paid for by each individual participant, with the government providing the aircraft and petrol for the training flight. It was a win-win situation.
With the advent of Mr. McNamara and his systems analysts (read "Whiz Kids"), the use of transport aircraft began to be questioned, most specifically by Mr. Larry Lynn, a young analyst who was in charge of making Department of Defense transportation most cost effective. His sphere of analysis included all transportation, not just air. In his fashion, he began to question the use of Naval Air transport aircraft for Tailhook and similar events. His basic position was that all air transport should be under one authority (the Air Force), and that air transport organic to a particular service unit was not a cost-effective way to run a defense department. That was typical of the systems-analysis approach to anything. The analysts liked neat budget packages. An aircraft carrier, with its ability to cover both strategic and tactical missions, was particularly troublesome for the budgeteer. In which column of figures was it to be analyzed? To consider the carrier in both packages confounded the analytic process.
Mr. Lynn's approach to Tailhook was pretty straightforward. Either we cease and desist in the use of transport aircraft for the event, or we lose the aircraft to the Air Force transportation command. The inability to use transport aircraft to take people to the event would put a serious crimp in the emerging value of the Tailhook Association.
Although there was no official document that charged the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations or any other Naval Aviation command with responsibility for Tailhook, there was no question that the leaders of Naval Aviation felt considerable responsibility for the Association, particularly when aviation transport assets were in jeopardy. Conversations between the Pentagon and ComNavAirPac headquarters in San Diego were frequent and serious, with the conclusion being that Tailhook would have to be canceled, at least for the coming year. At this time, VADM Al Shinn headed AirPac. A straightarrow, smart, gentlemanly officer, he considered the situation with some anxiety. He then came up with the idea that Tailhook could be justified if it was an official, professional convention containing educational aspects. His idea met with approval in Naval circles in Washington.
During that period, I had been traveling the halls of the Pentagon and a few television stations in the country preaching the "Soviet Threat." With the decision to make Tailhook a professional symposium, I was directed to put together a slide show, take it to Las Vegas and start the educational program. We called a number of active duty flag officers and suggested that they attend to provide a professional aura to the proceedings. Key among attendees was ADM William "Bush" Bringle, a class act in Naval Air.
The professional seminar that year consisted of one slide show about the Soviet threat. It was well supported by attendees at Tailhook and was the start of the wonderful professional seminars that evolved continually until 1991.
The travails of Naval Aviation have been many and varied over time. The fact that the Tailhook Association was able in a few short years to produce such outstanding professional seminars, beneficial to the Navy, industry and the professionals of Naval Aviation, both young and old, is a credit to the profession.
The complete abandonment of the Tailhook Association by the civil authority was a mistake. Many of the decisions by the civil authority are hard for military professionals to accept or understand, and some should be fought to the end, regardless of the consequences to the leadership. (A fine example is the "Revolt of the Admirals" in 1949.) But survival is the name of the game in politics. Personal sacrifice for a principle or the good of an institution is not in abundance, although some great examples are described in President John F. Kennedy's book, Profiles in Courage.
Given the nature of Naval Aviation and its importance to the future of our country, there can be little question that the former professional seminars of Tailhook will arise again. Anything as good as they were cannot stay buried forever. A first-class, professional institution will always survive—and Naval Aviation, including
The Tailhook Association, is certainly first-class.