A lot of factors contributing to this disaster were brought up, but I think one, in particular, needs to be stressed. Too much reliance is placed on the navigational and sensor technology, and fatigue and lack of training only compound the inevitable glitches and casualties, or simple misinterpretations and human error, of managing complex equipment and the involved procedures undertaken to properly exploit it. There is nothing about this navigational situation that required technology. Any steamship operating in the last half of the nineteenth century would have been equipped to avoid this accident. You didn’t need computerized course calculators and map screens displaying and interpreting real time radar data, in fact, you didn’t even need radar. What you need is seamanship.

We had a lot of technology aboard Dewey too, not as complex and capable as Fitzgerald, but we still had to deal with it. But we tended to use it where visual methods were obviously inadequate, as a backup, or to confirm the more traditional tools of seamanship. It was never our first line of defense, especially on a clear night, dealing with nearby surface contacts (as opposed to fast-moving aircraft or stealthy submarines). We were trained to look at the running light display of a ship in the dark and immediately tell whether it was approaching or not, which side was toward us, and whether it would pass ahead or behind us, when and how close. And even if the contact maneuvered unexpectedly, we would immediately know it was up to something, even if we couldn’t tell immediately what.

Its not that the tech doesn’t work right, it does, its that it is not intuitive, it does not allow you to consult your past experience for similar situations in the past. You don’t develop the instincts and muscle memory to react appropriately and quickly, and you aren’t overwhelmed with a flood of unnecessary information. Navionics require a great deal of training and familiarization, it can operate at the speed of light, but sailors don’t. You have to spend too much time worrying about which button to push next, or which mode its operating in or how to reset to just one level up. And when you’re confused, you just freeze up, afraid to do anything. If you don’t trust your instruments, you’re better off not having any.

This all happened on a clear night, where were the lookouts? How could the ship be conned from Combat, deep in the armored heart of the vessel? My job on Dewey’s bridge was to keep track of the ship’s surroundings, which I did by using the bridge radar repeaters, and by telephone contact with lookouts on the deck above the bridge. If I was confused or puzzled, I ran onto the bridge wings with my own binoculars and checked the situation myself.

If you actually look at the sea you don’t get turned around. Every light on shore, target running light display, and aid to navigation has already been identified and remembered, their visual appearance committed to memory. If anything suddenly appears, disappears or changes behavior or appearance you know it instantly. Remember, these aren’t enemies trying to sneak up on you, they are people trying to avoid colliding with you. And there is nothing between the object “out there” and your own eyeballs.

At any moment I knew the Officer of the Deck might ask me what was going on, or ask me to interpret a light display of a vessel or an aid to navigation on the horizon. I provided him with expert consultation, and he provided me with constant supervision. I answered his questions and he trusted my expertise.

The guys in Combat monitored the bridge watch communications as a reality check, comparing it to their own sensor displays and maneuvering board calculations. There was a team of radar guys down there doing what that malfunctioning computer on the Fitzgerald’s CIC was supposed to do. The electronics were analog, designed to be robust, simple to operate and interpret, not loaded with all sorts of superfluous capabilities no one would ever get around to learning. It was all designed to be used by scared, tired teenagers. The CIC watch questioned what I and the OD were doing if it conflicted with their situational awareness. If at any moment either of us did or said something contradictory the OD was immediately notified so he could intervene, ask a question and make a decision.

Funny though, even with all the tech described in this account, the actions of that bridge watch was remarkably familiar. I could understand what was happening as the situation rapidly unraveled. It was terrifying.

And if this is representative of what is going on in the Navy now, we certainly aren’t ready to fight the Chinese in the S China Sea, or the Russians in the Arctic.