The Management Team

(See Cover)

Without debate or dissenting vote, the Senate last week confirmed General J. P. McConnell, 57, as Air Force Chief of Staff and as the newest member of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The event was widely unheralded. Yet it marked the end of an era in U.S. military leadership. For McConnell succeeds none other than Curtis LeMay, last of the great combat commanders to serve on the Joint Chiefs.

Omar Bradley, Matt Ridgwayand Max Taylor, Nate Twining and Curt LeMay, Arthur Radford and Arleigh Burke--the very names still conjure up images of flaming cannon, of contrails across enemy skies, of destroyers heading into battle at flank speed. It detracts nothing from their successors to say that the names of "Bus" Wheeler, "Johnny" Johnson, "Dave" McDonald, "J. P." McConnell and "Wally" Greene are hardly household words.

The new Joint Chiefs seem ideally suited to the requirements of Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, who personally selected each. No Defense Secretary in history has ever asserted Pentagon control like McNamara. For his top military advisers, he wants planners and thinkers, not heroes. He wants team men, not gladiators. The men he has chosen differ widely, of course, in appearance, personality and background. But they have much in common. All are experienced and skilled staff officers, as much or more at home behind a desk as in the field. All may be expected to state their policy views candidly--and then to support, at least in public, any decision made by McNamara and the President. All can cooperate in the overlapping area between military and political policy without breaking a lot of crockery.

The present J.C.S. lineup:

> Chairman Earle Gilmore Wheeler, 57, is a handsome, strapping West Pointer who, with the exception of five months in a World War II combat area, has served his entire Army career at desk jobs far removed from battlefields. A onetime math instructor at the academy, Wheeler still doodles with algebraic equations during J.C.S. sessions. As director of the Joint Chiefs' staff, he was assigned in 1960 to brief Presidential Candidate John Kennedy on military developments; his performance led to his appointment by Kennedy as Army Chief of Staff in 1962. In that job, he won McNamara's favor by his outspoken advocacy of the nuclear test-ban treaty, trekking to Capitol Hill to rebut point by point the doubts expressed by the Air Force's LeMay. A longtime protege of General Maxwell Taylor's, Wheeler succeeded Taylor as J.C.S. Chairman in 1964.

> General Harold Keith Johnson is, at 52, the youngest Army Chief of Staff since Douglas MacArthur. A survivor of the Bataan Death March, he spent more than three years in Japanese prisoner-of-war camps ("They treated us terribly," he has recalled almost dispassionately, "but no worse than they treated their own people"), later commanded an infantry battalion during the Korean War's Pusan perimeter defense. Yet, like all his colleagues, Johnson is most experienced as a staff officer--he has gone the route from the Command and General Staff College to chief of staff of a NATO command in Germany. A native North Dakotan, Johnson holds two honorary doctorates (one in laws from Yankton College in South Dakota, one in education from Park College in Missouri), keeps a copy of the Boy Scout Handbook in his Pentagon desk, a copy of The Federalist on his bedside table.

> Admiral David Lamar McDonald, 58, a slim, slow-speaking Georgian, had just completed a tour as commander of the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean when, in May 1963, he received urgent orders to fly to Washington. McDonald didn't know what to expect: "I thought of everything known to man. About the only thing that didn't dawn on me was what actually happened." What happened was that McNamara told him he was being named Chief of Naval Operations, succeeding Admiral George Anderson, who had worn out his welcome by his demands for stronger U.S. action against Castro's Cuba and by his public criticism of McNamara's TFX contract.

An aviator and an expert rifleman, McDonald's only World War II high-seas combat experience was his 14 months as executive officer of the Essex. He has rows of ribbons, but his highest award is a Distinguished Service Medal given him for his diplomatic endeavors while commanding the Sixth Fleet. Said he at the time: "I'm kind of a roving ambassador of good will. When we hit port, I'm lucky if I get a couple of hours off for shopping and sightseeing, what with official calls, receptions and dinners. But in some ways we do more good ashore than afloat."

>General John Paul (he is known by his initials, not his given names) McConnell is an old artillery man turned pilot. He spent most of World War II in training commands, later served under LeMay in the Strategic Air Command. In 1963-64, as deputy commander in chief, European Command, in France, he often briefed visiting Secretary McNamara. Six months ago, McNamara called him back to Washington as the Air Force's Vice Chief of Staff and LeMay's heir apparent. The choice had LeMay's approval; he and McConnell are good friends and mutual admirers, agree on such Air Force articles of faith as the continuing future of the manned bomber. But McConnell, an Arkansan given to hillbilly colloquialisms, can be expected to seek his goals in more persuasive, and presumably more effective, ways than LeMay. -- General Wallace Martin Greene Jr., 57, the Marine Corps representative, sits in on all J.C.S. meetings and is a full-fledged member of the team--although by law he is required to attend only when issues under discussion affect the corps. During World War II, he fought at Saipan and Tinian, won a Legion of Merit for his planning on the Marshall Islands invasion. Greene is physically small, but he has big ideas: he is presently thinking of a project that, he insists, by the late 1970s may enable the corps to transport 1,200 marines overseas in a rocket traveling at 4,000 miles per hour.

Except for Chairman Wheeler, each of these men wears two hats: one as top-braid officer of his service, the other as a member of the Joint Chiefs. To an increasing degree, they have been forced to deputize their duties within their own service's hierarchy, spending more and more time in their joint capacity. The J.C.S. as a corporate unit has no command power: it is an advisory group, charged with making recommendations to the President, the Secretary of Defense and the National Security Council about the development and use of the most powerful military establishment in history. That establishment numbers 2,658,000 men, includes some 900 jet bombers, almost 900 fleet ships, more than 850 nuclear-armed, land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles, and 300 submarine-borne Polaris missiles.

McNamara is constantly asking questions of the Joint Chiefs--and demand ing answers within hours. He insists that the J.C.S. members be more than mere soldiers or sailors or flyers. Says he, in his somewhat pedantic way: "The application of power in a nuclear age takes a great deal of sophistication. It requires men with knowledge of and sensitivity to political-military considerations, not just military."

In the Tank. To assist them, the Joint Chiefs have a staff presently limited by law to 400 men (President Johnson has asked Congress to raise the number to 800), drawn from all the services and directed by Army Lieut. General David Burchinal, 49, a brilliant officer who is an odds-on bet to become J.C.S. Chair man some day.

Last year Burchinal's staff presented for J.C.S. decisions some 1,600 studies. Matters for the Chiefs' consideration range from the trivial (whether to authorize an all-service soccer team to play European allstars) to the monumental (contingency plans for response to Communist aggression wherever it might occur). Such studies are presented to the Chiefs at meetings held three afternoons each week in a second-floor Pentagon room that is commonly known as "the Tank."

A typical Tank session was held early last week. Before the Chiefs arrived, Filipino stewards set ashtrays, note pads and pencils (five black and two red for each Chief) round the hexagonal, Formica-topped table that is the room's centerpiece. Behind a sliding panel on one wall were maps of countries and areas scheduled to come under discus sion. On another wall was a screen for use in showing slides to accompany staff presentations. Also in the room were a 23-in. television set and six tele phones, one of them a direct line to the White House. Aides placed at each Chiefs place a large briefcase filled with staff papers.

The Air Force's McConnell was the first of the Joint Chiefs to enter, followed by the Navy's McDonald, deeply tanned from a recent inspection trip to a Southern installation. Last to arrive was the Marine Corps' Greene. "Well," he said, "as long as we are going to be in here ten years, we might as well not hurry." Chairman Wheeler rose to the bait. "Ten years?" he asked. "Why ten years?" The Army's Johnson ruefully explained that Greene was "pulling my leg"; only a few days before, Johnson had been quoted in the newspapers as having said that the U.S. might have to stay in South Viet Nam for another ten years. "Who trapped you into saying that?" asked Wheeler, a slight edge to his voice. Johnson defended himself:

"I have always said ten years. We could be there another ten years before everything is straightened out."

The Color Spectrum. With a corporate sigh, the Joint Chiefs of Staff settled down to work. For the next four hours, staff officers presented and explained position papers. Those papers are first drafted on white paper, reprinted on buff paper when sent out to field commands for comment. By the time they reach the J.C.S., they have "gone green." If the Chiefs accept them, they are put in a red-striped folder and sent on to the Pentagon's civilian leaders as official J.C.S. recommendations. If the Chiefs reject a paper, it "goes purple." When the Chiefs split--as they often do--each one must write a report specifically explaining his position to McNamara; the Secretary has outlawed "waffling," a once-favored J.C.S. technique of concealing disagreement behind vague language.

Minutes to Impact. Under continuous development by the J.C.S. are three separate strategy plans. One, the Joint Strategic Capability Plan (JSCP) is shortrange, looks forward only a year, deals mostly with immediate procurement problems. The second, the Joint Strategic Operating Plan (JSOP), tries to account for the nation's military needs for the next ten years--what weapons and equipment must be developed, and how much they will cost to attain and maintain. The third, the Joint Long-Range Strategic Study (JLRSS), contemplates a 14-year period. What new international trends or crises might crop up? How should they be met? A JLRSS study might assume that by 1979 the entire Arab Middle East would be firmly united behind Egypt's anti-American President Nasser. Should U.S. forces be withdrawn from the entire area? Or, if the decision were to remain, would new weapons and tactics be required?

To follow emergency events as they happen, the Joint Chiefs have the facilities of a Pentagon suite called the National Military Command Center, complete with communications hookups spanning 25 million miles and linking the Pentagon, the White House, the State Department, the Central Intelligence Agency, every major U.S. military base around the world, and the White House-Kremlin hot line, which is manned 24 hours a day by three Russian-speaking J.C.S. staffers. One of the most interesting pieces of equipment in the center is a console that carries the legends: "Minutes to Next Impact," "Predicted Impact" and "Actual Impact."

No matter what the Joint Chiefs of Staff may propose, it remains up to their civilian superiors to dispose. More often than not, the J.C.S. recommendations are accepted. Thus, when Communist PT boats attacked U.S. destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin last summer, McNamara called the Chiefs into his office, asked them how the U.S. should reply. The opinion was unanimous: to launch air attacks against North Vietnamese bases. McNamara relayed that word to the President, who summoned the Chiefs to a White House session, carefully questioned each about his views--and followed the prescription to the letter.

Among the Issues. But the nation's military and civilian leaders also have some outstanding differences. The military budget is always a subject for argument. Late last fall, the Chiefs sent their spending proposals for fiscal 1966 to

McNamara--who lopped off a cool $8 billion. In December, the J.C.S. members and McNamara all flew to the LBJ Ranch, where the President, sitting at a picnic table near the banks of the Pedernales River, heard them out. McNamara explained that he and the Chiefs were "98% agreed" on the budget--it was that other 2% that mattered. Each Chief explained why his service needed more money than McNamara wanted to allow. When it was all over, the President agreed with his Defense Secretary, and McNamara's cuts were reflected in the $49 billion military budget sent to Congress last week.

An even more burning issue between the Joint Chiefs and the Administration is over extending the war in Viet Nam. The Chiefs are unanimous in their opinion that the U.S. and its Vietnamese allies should 1) try to interdict Viet Cong supply lines in North Viet Nam and 2) "punish" the North Vietnamese by air attacks on military and industrial installations so as to let them know, in Wheeler's words, that "they have to pay a price for their activities." The Joint Chiefs realize that such action might bring the Communist Chinese into even more active participation in the Vietnamese conflict--but that is a risk they are willing to run. President Johnson and Secretary McNamara obviously disagree with them.

Without the Bellyaching. Once the civilian decision is made, McNamara insists that his military leaders fall into line and support--at least in public--his policies. He watches the Chiefs with a hawk's eye, sends civilian aides to listen in when the J.C.S. members appear in closed sessions before congressional committees, reads carefully the transcripts of their testimony.

The men he has selected as his Joint Chiefs seem willing to go along. This does not, of course, mean that they are giving up their strongly held opinions. But, as Admiral McDonald says, "It is up to us to be as persuasive as possible. You don't do that by means of headlines or bellyaching." Under the new J.C.S., interservice rivalries have diminished to the point of disappearing. But Wheeler expresses the sentiments of all the Joint Chiefs when he says: "I do not want a strong Army at the expense of any member of the defense team. The full expense of a balanced team must be borne."

Procurement of the controversial F-111 fighter-bomber (formerly the TFX) has been Pentagon-approved, and the prototype has taken to the air far ahead of schedule in highly successful tests. Money for developing a cargo plane (the C-5A) able to airlift 750 men has been approved. New nuclear surface ships may well be okayed by McNamara as part of his doctrine of flexibility.

Economy has also been an essential part of the Pentagon's recent performance. The military budget is down $300 million. No fewer than 95 obsolete military installations are scheduled to be closed. The Army and Air Reserves have been ordered disbanded, and the National Guard has been reshuffled to save money and increase efficiency.

Although McNamara is the final authority on any decisions moving out of the Pentagon, he says of his relations with the J.C.S.: "I never make a recommendation to the President without indicating the degree of differences with them, if any."

To some outsiders, particularly on Capitol Hill, McNamara's dominance over the J.C.S. seems a cause for concern. Where once they worried that the J.C.S. might become so powerful as to be a sort of "Prussian General Staff," they now fret lest the Chiefs become too subservient to the civilians. But the fact remains that under McNamara the nation's military power has grown as never before--with less waste of money and with less energy expended in futile interservice and military-civilian fights. McNamara's new team of military managers seems likely to flourish in that fashion.

Between them, the President, McNamara and the J.C.S. have chosen a battery of U.S. defense positions that may well affect the safety of the world for decades. McNamara says that revolutionary changes have been "driven into the bedrock" of the nation's mili tary base.

The fundamental firepower of the U.S. continues to be in missiles. Al though men like LeMay and McConnell will continue to argue for the manned bomber (and while SAC's flocks of B-52s and B-58s are still a valuable part of the nation's nuclear delivery force), the decision has been to discontinue further development of manned bombers, such as the controversial RS-70. Instead, enormous amounts of money are being spent to beef up the Minuteman batteries and nuclear submarine-launched missiles, among them Poseidon, which will double the megatonnage of Polaris. In Omaha, the Joint Strategic Target Planning Staff coordinates the targets at which missiles, landlocked and at sea, are aimed. Mostly they are pointed at critical bull's-eyes in Red China and Russia.

In 1963 there was outspoken Pentagon support for the nuclear test-ban treaty, despite the fact that the U.S. had no well-tested anti-ballistic missile. This year everyone has ducked the problem, and there are no substantial funds included in the budget for producing the Nike-X, which cannot be definitively tested without atmospheric nuclear explosions.

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