Some Observations about Network-Enabled Over-the-Horizon Attacks

Norman Friedman’s 2009 book Network Centric Warfare is one of the principal influences upon my thinking about 21^st Century maritime combat. It is a seminal recounting of the evolution of modern maritime warfare systems, the ‘systems of systems’ they fit in to, and the doctrines developed for employing them. It also serves as a core reference for researchers seeking to discover the fine (declassified) technical and operational details of the Cold War competition between U.S. and Soviet maritime ‘battle networks.’

One of Friedman’s most interesting observations in the book pertains to network-enabled attacks, especially from ‘over-the-horizon.’ A ship targeted using remote surveillance sensors, for example, might not realize it had been targeted until it detected inbound weapons. Friedman notes that the multi-source Soviet Ocean Surveillance System (SOSS) couldn’t enable true surprise attacks because Soviet anti-ship missile doctrine was predicated on the use of ‘pathfinder’ and ‘tattletale’ scouts for visual confirmation and classification of targets. Detection of these scouts by U.S. Navy or NATO battleforces (or theater/national surveillance systems) would provide the defenders warning that Soviet anti-ship missile platforms were nearby or that a raid was inbound. (Pg. 217-239)

In contrast, the U.S. Navy of the late 1970s and early 1980s sought to use its Ocean Surveillance Information System (OSIS) network of signals intelligence sensors and fusion centers to provide targeting cues to Tomahawk Anti-Ship Missile (TASM)-armed submarines via an effort dubbed Outlaw Shark. Since its advent a decade earlier, OSIS had been used to detect, classify, and develop “track histories” for Soviet ships in support of Navy operational-level planning. The experimental Outlaw Shark targeting capability stemmed from using OSIS’s track histories to dead-reckon Soviet ships’ geolocations at future times, then transmitting those cues to patrolling submarines. Unlike SOSS, though, OSIS did not use active surveillance or reconnaissance sensors to supplement its passive ones. As a result, Outlaw Shark targeting would have been unavailable if Soviet ships maintained disciplined Emissions Control (EMCON). (Pg. 206-209)

In the event of exploitable Soviet EMCON indiscipline, however, Friedman observes that Outlaw Shark targeting would in theory have denied a Soviet surface force any warning of an impending U.S. anti-ship attack. This is because the OSIS-TASM tandem’s lack of a scout meant that there would have been no discernable U.S. Navy ‘behavior’ to tip Soviet ships off that they had been targeted. Friedman concludes with the thought that even if a TASM attack had landed no blows, it nevertheless might have disrupted a Soviet surface force’s plans or driven it to take rash actions that could have been exploited offensively or defensively by other U.S. or NATO forces. (Pg. 210)

The obvious limitations of relying almost entirely upon non-real-time signals intelligence for over-the-horizon targeting contributed greatly to the Navy shelving its TASM ambitions during the early 1980s. The Navy’s own mid-to-late Cold War countertargeting doctrine and tactics made great use of EMCON and deceptive emissions against SOSS, so there was no fundamental reason why the Soviets could not have returned the favor against OSIS. Moreover, TASM employment depended upon a Soviet ship maintaining roughly the same course and speed it was on at time of an OSIS-generated targeting cue. If the targeted Soviet ship maneuvered such that it would not be within the TASM’s preset ‘search basket’ at the anticipated time, then the TASM would miss. Nor could Navy shooters have been sure that the TASM would have locked on to a valid and desirable Soviet ship vice a lesser Soviet ship, a Soviet decoy ship, or even a non-combatant third-party’s ship.

Friedman’s point remains, though: a network-enabled attack that results in a physical miss could nevertheless theoretically produce significant tactically-exploitable psychological effects. This concept has long been used to forestall attacks by newly-detected nearby hostile submarines, even when the submarine’s precise position is not known. An anti-submarine weapon launched towards the submarine’s vicinity at minimum complicates the latter’s tactical situation and potentially forces it into a reactive and defensive posture. This can buy time for more effective anti-submarine measures including better-aimed attacks.

It therefore might be reasonable to use some longer-ranged weapons to “shock” an opponent’s forces along the lines Friedman outlines, even if the weapons’ hit probabilities are not high, if it is deemed likely that the targeted forces will react in ways that friendly forces armed with more plentiful and producible weapons could exploit. For example, an opponent’s force might light off its air defense radars upon detecting the attacker’s weapons’ own homing radars. Or perhaps the opponent’s units might distinguish themselves from non-combatant vehicles/aircraft/ships in the battlespace by virtue of their maneuvers once they detect inbound weapons. Either reaction might provide the attacker with definitive localization and classification of the opponent’s platforms, which in turn could be used to provide more accurate targeting support for follow-on attacks. Depending on the circumstances, expenditure of a few advanced weapons to ‘flush’ an opponent’s forces in these ways might be well worth it even if none hit.

But would doing so really be the best use of such weapons in most cases? We must bear in mind the advanced ordnance inventory management dilemma: higher-capability (and especially longer-range) guided weapons expended during a conflict likely will not be replaced in the attacker’s arsenal in a timely manner unless they are readily and affordably wartime-producible. Nor will weapons launched from surface ships’ or submarines’ launchers be quickly reloadable, as these platforms will have to retire from the contested zone and expend several days of transit time cycling through a rearward base for rearmament. The force-level operational tempo effects of this cycle time will not be insignificant. A compelling argument can be made that advanced weapons should be husbanded for attacks in which higher-confidence targeting is available…unless of course the responsible commander assesses that the situation at hand justifies firing based on lower-confidence targeting.

There is another option, however. Instead of expending irreplaceable advanced weapons, a network-enabled attacker might instead use decoy weapons that simulate actual weapons’ trajectories, behaviors, and emissions in order to psychologically jar an opponent’s forces or otherwise entice them to react in exploitable ways. This would be especially useful when the attacker‘s confidence in his targeting picture is fairly low. SCATHE MEAN comes to mind in this respect. This is probably more practical for aircraft and their deep munitions inventories in aircraft carriers or at land bases. Still, it might be worth exploring how a small number of decoy weapons sprinkled within a Surface Action Group or amongst some submarines might trade operationally and tactically against using those launcher spots for actual weapons.

As for the defender, there are four principal ways to immunize against (but not decisively counter) the use of actual or decoy weapons for network-enabled ‘shock or disrupt’ attacks:

• Distribute multi-phenomenology sensors within a defense’s outer layers in order to detect and discriminate decoy platforms or weapons at the earliest opportunity. The sensors must be able to communicate with their operators using means that are highly resistant to detection and exploitation by the attacker.

• Institute routine, realistic, and robust training regimes that condition crews psychologically and tactically for sudden shocks such as inbound weapons “out of nowhere” or deception. This might also lead to development of tactics or operating concepts in which some or all of the defender’s units gain the ability to maintain restrictive emissions, maneuvering, and firing discipline even when an adversary’s inbound weapons are detected unless certain criteria are met.

• Field deep (and properly positioned) defensive ordnance inventories. Note that this ordnance does not just include guns and missiles, but also electronic warfare systems and techniques.

• Embrace tactical flexibility and seize the tactical initiative, or in other words take actions that make it far harder for an adversary to attack first. A force’s possession of preplanned branching actions that cover scenarios in which it is prematurely localized or detected by an adversary can help greatly in this regard.

Friedman’s observations regarding the psychological angles of network-enabled targeting are subtle as they require thinking about how the technological aspects of a tactical scenario might interplay with its human aspects. We tend to fixate on the former and overlook the latter. That’s an intellectual habit we’re going to need to break if we’re going to restore the capacity and conditioning we possessed just a quarter century ago for fighting a great power adversary’s networked forces.

The views expressed herein are solely those of the author and are presented in his personal capacity. They do not reflect the official positions of Systems Planning and Analysis, and to the author’s knowledge do not reflect the policies or positions of the U.S. Department of Defense, any U.S. armed service, or any other U.S. Government agency.

Five Tests for Alternatives to the Large Deck Aircraft Carrier

What could an allegorical fence in the English countryside possibly have to do with a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier? If you’ll indulge me, I’ll explain.

I’ve written before that while there’s no one right way to think through and argue the complex questions in a policy debate, there is at least one wrong way. A famed parable written by early 20^th Century English theologian G.K. Chesterton makes the same case, only far more eloquently:

“In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox.  There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road.  The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, "I don't see the use of this; let us clear it away." To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: "If you don't see the use of it, I certainly won't let you clear it away. Go away and think.  Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it."

This paradox rests on the most elementary common sense. The gate or fence did not grow there.  It was not set up by somnambulists who built it in their sleep.  It is highly improbable that it was put there by escaped lunatics who were for some reason loose in the street. Some person had some reason for thinking it would be a good thing for somebody.  And until we know what the reason was, we really cannot judge whether the reason was reasonable.

It is extremely probable that we have overlooked some whole aspect of the question, if something set up by human beings like ourselves seems to be entirely meaningless and mysterious. There are reformers who get over this difficulty by assuming that all their fathers were fools; but if that be so, we can only say that folly appears to be a hereditary disease. But the truth is that nobody has any business to destroy a social institution until he has really seen it as an historical institution. If he knows how it arose, and what purposes it was supposed to serve, he may really be able to say that they were bad purposes, or that they have since become bad purposes, or that they are purposes which are no longer served.  But if he simply stares at the thing as a senseless monstrosity that has somehow sprung up in his path, it is he and not the traditionalist who is suffering from an illusion.

Like Chesterton’s fence, the large-deck carrier did not just spontaneously materialize. It is the product of a century of human efforts that incrementally evolved and were evolved by the field of naval warfare. Every change in carrier design, air wing configuration, maritime aviation doctrine and operating concepts, and so on can be traced to one or more strategic, operational, tactical, organizational, or political purposes. Not all of these purposes were wise or enduring, but that’s where the methodology Chesterton proposed in his parable fits in.

If one seeks to reduce or remove the large-deck carrier from Navy force structure, one must articulate the purposes the carrier was designed to serve, judge whether any of those purposes remain relevant, and lastly propose some alternative (be it a new platform or a family of platforms) that fulfills the purposes judged to remain relevant—or otherwise acknowledge the consequent decline in the Joint force’s capacity and capabilities. I summarized the first two steps in my series on the large-deck carrier last fall. As for the third, I would suggest that any alternative to the large-deck nuclear-powered carrier must at minimum pass each of the following five tests:

1. Can the alternative perform both power projection and sea control tasks? Carriers are commonly thought of as platforms for hurling land-attack strikes at an adversary. This overlooks the fact that in major war they more typically have served to enable maritime forces to seize and sustain temporary localized sea control for specific operational purposes, one of which can be land-attack strike.
2. Does the alternative enable the timely and persistent employment of large tactical aircraft, whether manned or unmanned, over maritime areas far from friendly defensible airbases on land? An aircraft carrier’s ability to operate in relative proximity to objective maritime areas promotes faster responses and longer on-station persistence than may be possible from in-theater airbases. This is especially the case if the airbases nearest to such areas lie well within the adversary's offensive striking reach. Furthermore, a tactical aircraft must be relatively large if is to carry heavy payloads and fly long distances at a medium to high subsonic speed or otherwise remain aloft for long periods of time. Only a large-deck carrier can launch and recover these kinds of aircraft at sea. Particularly important are Airborne Early Warning aircraft with large-aperture radars, which I have previously noted serve as the keystone of sea control. Long-range/long-endurance fighters are similarly valuable to sea control, as they can enable interdiction of “archers” well before the latter can launch their “arrows” at defended aircraft and ships. A large-deck carrier can enable sizable proactive or responsive screening support to surface forces, and a dispersed multi-carrier battleforce can enable persistent screening support in mass of such forces.
3. Can the alternative achieve a high sustained strategic speed as well as protracted operational endurance? The nuclear-powered large-deck carrier can move between (or within) theaters faster than any other surface platform—and never requires refueling to do so. Only the air wing’s fuel and ammunition, plus the crew’s food and stores, require replenishment. And the carrier’s vast storage space allows it to operate for long periods of time between replenishments.
4. How extensible is the alternative to incorporating new aircraft and shipboard systems? The large-deck carrier’s size and facilities have proven highly capable over the decades of operating each successive generation of aircraft. Similarly, the carrier’s size—and the availability of vast electrical power from its nuclear reactors—have allowed it to take on each successive generation of shipboard warfare systems.
5. Would the alternative be able to take on an increasing share of the joint force’s strike tasks in a major modern protracted conflict as long-range missile inventories are depleted? History tells us that guided munitions will be expended in war at a rate well in excess of what peacetime planners expect. Long-range missiles are central to modern warfare, but their inventories will eventually be outstripped by demand in a protracted fight. This simple fact would not change if the budgetary resources used for large-deck carriers were instead reallocated towards long-range missile procurement; in a protracted war, these missiles would eventually run out. This phenomenon is not unique to naval forces or U.S. forces for that matter; adversaries will face the same constraints. A naval force will need a platform capable of delivering numerous and relatively wartime-producible weapons over long distances at opportune moments during a protracted maritime conflict. A large-deck carrier with a smartly configured and armed air wing can fulfill that role. If anything, longer-range missiles and other joint combined arms will be best used to open up temporary localized holes in an adversary’s defenses that can be exploited by reusable aircraft carrying more plentiful and readily wartime-producible shorter-range weapons. And let’s not forget that carrier aircraft can be reloaded each time they return to their ship, whereas shipboard launchers can only be reloaded upon retirement from the immediate combat area.

It is insufficient to simply declare the large-deck carrier is undesirable because it is expensive, or that it is obsolete because it can be threatened. Neither the carrier’s relative expense nor its exposure to dangerous wartime threats is particularly new in any event. If one is to advocate replacement of the large-deck carrier with something else, that something else must be able to assume the still-relevant purposes served by the large-deck carrier using ways that are superior to those of the large-deck carrier. The parable of Chesterton’s fence applies. 

The views expressed herein are solely those of the author and are presented in his personal capacity. They do not reflect the official positions of Systems Planning and Analysis, and to the author’s knowledge do not reflect the policies or positions of the U.S. Department of Defense, any U.S. armed service, or any other U.S. Government agency.

The Use of Land-Based Air Defenses to Screen Sea Lines of Communication

I’ve written in the past about the use of land-based air defense systems for pressuring adversary air forces’ wartime ability to fly through a maritime chokepoint. Though these systems would not be able to ‘shut the door’ completely against a capable adversary, they could still help reduce the number of adversary aircraft on the margins that could break through the chokepoint in any given raid. This would be of considerable value to a U.S. campaign to protect the sea lines of communication to its East Asian allies in the event of a war with China, or in some scenarios to protect NATO sea lines of communication within the Eastern Mediterranean in a war with Russia. As John Stillion and Bryan Clark point out in their new CSBA study investigating historical competitions between opposing battle networks, actions that disrupt an adversary’s plans or prevent him from achieving his objectives often generate far greater strategic gains than is possible via a singular focus on attriting the adversary’s forces. The latter is often very important to achieving the former; it just isn’t necessarily the only or the most achievable means to that end.   

It is clear, then, that land-based air defenses can be of considerable indirect value to the screening of friendly shipping. But could they also contribute more directly in that mission? Could they be used to substitute in part for escort combatants? The story’s much more mixed on that front.

The first limiting factor is air search radar coverage. A traditional radar can generally only search within its line of sight. The Earth’s curvature affects this the most; for example, a radar mounted 100 feet above sea level will generally be blind to an aircraft 200 miles away that descends below roughly 17,400 feet. Land terrain along the radar’s line of sight only reduces the searchable volume further; this will constrain where a land-based radar can be placed if seaward coverage is desired. And all this assumes the aircraft’s radar cross section is large enough to allow for detection.

These factors can be overcome somewhat by using a distributed fire control network. In theory, an AEW aircraft that detected an adversary’s aircraft (or cruise missile) could transmit fire control-quality radar data to a friendly land-based air defense system. Should the AEW aircraft and the land-based system use highly directional line-of-sight communications to exchange this data, the adversary would find it extremely difficult to intercept let alone exploit the networking pathway.

Even so, this feeds into the second and far more impactful limiting factor: the interceptor missile range and engagement geometry. Pick any U.S. longer-range surface-to-air missile: its maximum advertised range is generally not too much more than 200 miles or so. But this does not reflect the missile’s actual effective range against a particular target aircraft (or cruise missile) in a given scenario. An engagement geometry involving an interceptor flyout that’s more-or-less tangential to the target’s trajectory would have a much shorter maximum effective range than one in which the intercept is nearly head-on. A geometry in which the interceptor would have to overtake the target would have an even shorter maximum effective range. Even if kinematically possible, engageability opportunity windows might be very short based on the interceptor’s flyout distance at a given geometry. The bottom line is that a land-based surface-to-air missile would not be able to directly screen naval forces or protected shipping in waters outside the missile’s engagement envelopes.   

In theory, then, a land-based air defense system might at best be able to help screen shipping in the terminal approaches to a friendly coast. An adversary probably would not hazard its maritime strike aircraft in these waters if segments of the defender’s sea lines of communication lay outside that coverage. In contrast, the adversary might be very willing to use missile-armed submarines inside these waters. A high-speed anti-ship cruise missile fired by a submarine at a target 60 miles or less away (consistent with an attack from the second convergence zone, if one is available) would be very difficult to intercept unless an air defense system was positioned fairly close to the threat missile’s trajectory. It’s hard to see how a land-based air defense system, even if supported by distributed fire control from an AEW aircraft, could make that kind of intercept.

We can therefore see that direct protection of shipping at sea would depend predominantly upon the screening forces interposed between an adversary’s raiders and their targets. Ideally there would be an outer layer consisting of aircraft and an inner layer consisting of escort combatants. If the waters being traversed by a convoy or other protected shipping were outside the effective range of land-based aircraft, carrier-based aircraft might be usable in their place. If carrier support was unavailable, then area air and anti-ship missile defense would entirely depend upon the availability of Aegis combatants. If there were insufficient Aegis combatants to provide this coverage, then the escorts and their charges would be on their own. 

The views expressed herein are solely those of the author and are presented in his personal capacity. They do not reflect the official positions of Systems Planning and Analysis, and to the author’s knowledge do not reflect the policies or positions of the U.S. Department of Defense, any U.S. armed service, or any other U.S. Government agency.