A battleship may be called upon to fight a single-ship action; or she may fight an action as one unit in the fleet. If we could be certain in advance which of these roles she is destined to fill, would this knowledge exert any material influence upon her design? In seeking the answer to this question I am led to a conclusion in the affirmative.
When acting alone, it is not to be doubted that she should be as powerful as possible in offensive and defensive qualities. The more guns and armor we can give her the better, together with a reasonable speed. Undue development of the last-named characteristic can only be secured at the sacrifice of protection or at the cost of excessive displacement; while the resulting superiority is of little value unless relatively so great as to appear abnormal. If the results of careful study on the part of thoughtful and competent men are to be accepted, this difference must not be less than 25 per cent; indeed, some of those best qualified to speak hold that this figure should be nearer 50 per cent.
It seems to me that the striving to produce battleships, each more formidable than its possible competitors, is a distinct adoption of the idea of the single-ship action as the keynote of naval policy on the part of the nation whose ship-building programme presents this unmistakable trait. This adoption will doubtless be denied, and with truth, so far as intent is concerned, but, practically, erroneously and against the logic of facts. The value of uniformity in battery command and in tactical properties, in such cases, goes unrecognized; the product is a collection of diverse types and not a homogeneous fleet. Such is our case to-day.
Everything in the mechanical world is a compromise. And this truism is especially applicable to ships' designs. As we cannot have all we want on a limited displacement, would it not be well to make up our minds to accept this disheartening and inexorable condition and take the broad view that to what the fleet needs the individual vessel should be subordinated? Here, again, I say "Yes"—although I am well aware that an opposite view may be strongly held, viz., that the strongest individual units must of necessity combine to make the strongest fleet. To this I am, of course, entirely ready to agree, provided these units be uniform in their attributes of offence, defence and maneuver—or if not absolutely uniform then fairly so. I do not care to impose too exacting conditions.
Again, if assured that the units of his fleet were reasonably alike in their ability to deliver and receive hostile blows, would not a commander-in-chief feel more confidence in his conduct of a battle when these units possessed identical maneuvering qualities than when they presented these qualities in quite discordant array? While I may be mistaken on this point, I hold, with considerable pertinacity, the view that homogeneity is what he would gladly have if not obliged to give up too much of the combatant powers—offence and defence.
The most important feature in a battleship's design is, unquestionably, the arrangement of the battery. After many experiments the axial line has come to be recognized as offering the maximum of advantages. To that disposition we are now, I had almost said irrevocably, committed. Holding fast to this basic idea, we have placed the third and succeeding turrets also along; the ship's axis, and to secure unrestricted gun command the third and fourth turrets are installed on a somewhat higher plane than the others. All this is so reasonable that this, which may justly be termed the American scheme, has been adopted by other powers. If we place the fifth and sixth turrets in accordance with this principle, they will operate in a plane of their own, and we shall see our guns in three stories, as it were. That development we have not reached, doubtless for reasons of stability. Theoretically, it is the only proper way of mounting our battery—practically, we are forbidden to do so, and thus are driven to expedients which, in the cases of the North Dakota and the Minas Geracs, deprive some of the guns of their full value. To me it appears fairly debatable whether we do not pay more in a number of disadvantages for this extra turret or so than they are really worth. If we require greater hitting power might not this be obtained by increasing the caliber of our guns and at the same time hold to the four turrets in two planes with all the incidental profits they offer?
Five or six turrets necessitate a much longer ship, for one thing, and a much greater area proportionally of surface to be protected. A glance at the designs of such vessels will show an enforced thinning of armor, especially above the water-line. Now, this is to run a great risk. As a general criticism applicable to all recent construction, I feel warranted in saying that insufficiency of protection is a universal characteristic. Wider armor belts and thicker casemates are imperatively necessary to give our ships the ability to receive as well as to deliver heavy blows. This ability may be denned as armor thick enough to keep out her own projectiles at the ranges to be expected on opening an engagement. By this I mean, not the proof butt normal impact penetration, but about two-thirds or three-fourths, since battle impacts will always be at an angle.
I refer, of course, only to those vital parts which must be protected at any cost. Tested by this old eighteenth-century rule, that "a ship is built to fight her fellow," all modern battleships, no matter what be the flag, will be found wanting. In my judgment, this state of things is serious. It can only be remedied by assigning of the displacement a larger fraction than is our custom to "protection"; and this remedy can be greatly facilitated by avoiding extreme lengths in the ship herself, and by frankly abandoning the fad of excessive speed.
The knotty problem of the right horse-power to provide might be attacked by considering the radius of action the ship should possess. Knowing the displacement, at least approximately, and thus having a pre-supposed number of tons available for coal and propelling machinery, it should be no difficult matter to divide this number into two parts, one for fuel, the other for engines, boilers, etc., and by the method of trial and error reach a conclusion that would enable the ship to cover the assigned distance at the maximum cruising speed. The weight of machinery thus determined would in turn fix the ultimate horse-power and the trial speed. Such a procedure would be logical—based on strategic considerations—and so capable of defence in the forum of service discussion. Arbitrarily to demand some particular trial speed, or to support the demand by the plea that "the Persians are building battleships" with that particular speed is amusing rather than convincing. We should have what we want, but it is equally important that we should know why we want it. Our reasons ought not to display a simian imitativeness, but should be founded on strategic and tactical study, as interpreted by that greatest and sternest of teachers—history.
Would you have an example? Many of Rojesvenstky's ships had a nominal speed of 20 knots—and doubtless they made this rate on their trial trips. To secure it, their side armor had to be made thin. On the day of battle can it be doubted that he would gladly have exchanged the five extra knots which, by the way, he didn't have when the pinch came, for four or five more inches of armor on his casemates? If you bolt armor to a ship's side it is always there, but the high speed you have purchased by giving up some measure of protection may not be yours at the critical moment. A bearing may get hot—an auxiliary pump may fail— any one of a thousand things may happen to reduce your speed, but your power of resisting an enemy's shells is at its maximum at all times until weakened by his hammering. Had Rojesvenstky's ships possessed those extra inches on their casemates, instead of armor inadequate to keep out projectiles, and yet just stout enough to effectively explode them, it is conceivable that Togo might have failed.
Not only does the four-gun turret ship permit the adoption of greater protection, but it furthermore yields other incidental advantages—a capital platform for the torpedo defence guns; an ample space for the stowing of boats; a compact and convenient arrangement of the magazines and shell rooms; and the best possible provision for habitability.
A fifth turret introduces complications that are by no means insignificant. Its magazine is of necessity close to a fire room, thus calling for mechanical refrigeration. The structural problem, too, is not without its drawbacks. Relatively, the fifth turret demands more than its share of strength in meeting the strains and stresses on the hull, and it imposes an undue burden on the naval architect. These he has been able to deal with, I know, but after all, is what he gives us really worth while?
In spite of the lack of sufficient protection on their casemates, I think our South Carolina and Michigan, as a type, the best ever developed. Either of them is to-day more than a match for the Dreadnought. Why not stick to so excellent a design? If more battery power is required—is there any reason why three 12-inch guns each might not be placed in their lower turrets, or in all? If this is impracticable or undesirable, make her guns heavier, but never let us be diverted from that which is sound and good because other nations are groping in the dark and producing vessels that, in comparison with our simple and powerful Michigan, may not unfairly be termed freaks. It is time to call a halt on building single ships or ships in pairs, and to build fleets.