On the evening of 17 May 1987, the U. S. Navy guided-missile frigate Stark (FFG-31) was attacked by an Iraqi aircraft while on a radar picket station in the Persian Gulf. The ship was struck by two Exocet missiles; 37 U. S. sailors were killed.
Unprovoked attacks on U. S. warships have occurred throughout our national experience. They are part of our shared mythology, and highlight our sense of passage as a people. In 1807, the U. S. frigate Chesapeake was cannonaded and boarded by His Britannic Majesty’s Ship Leopard, and four U. S. seamen were seized. In 1898, the battleship Maine exploded in the Havana, Cuba, harbor. Although the explosion was caused by a magazine detonation, the immediate U. S. reaction was to blame Spanish saboteurs. In 1937, the gunboat Panay was bombed and strafed by Japanese aircraft while escorting U. S. tankers up China’s Yangtze River.
Each of these assaults was (or was believed to be) deliberate and deadly. Each occurred outside of U. S. waters, and each came “out of the blue” while U. S. ships and crew were engaged in peaceable activity. Many U. S. citizens considered each assault a cause for war; in fact, the Maine furor did start the Spanish-American War.
The attack on the Stark emerges from this background. Each attack, in its time and eventually within national myth, became a symbol of America abused: while resisting an arrogant, dominant naval power in 1807; after an attempt to intervene between a helpless Cuba and imperial Spain in 1898; while escorting U. S. citizens to safety in the face of Imperial Japan’s aggression in 1937; and attempting to uphold international rights in the Persian Gulf in 1987.
The attack on the Stark, however, was a mistake. We could not turn our anger on Iraq because of political restraints. We were left feeling insufficient. It appeared as though U. S. military forces: cannot recognize an attack or respond to an attack in progress; are armed with weapons that do not work; and are sent to places that are, in essence, deathtraps.
Two investigations were prompted by the Stark attack— the Navy’s Sharp Report, which has an unclassified version, and the public report of the House Armed Services Committee (HASC). The Navy investigation must be considered more authoritative. It cross-examined all participants; the HASC interviewed only enlisted personnel.
The Attack: The Stark was stationed in international waters at 26-47°N/51-55°E, well outside the war zones declared by Iraq and Iran. At 2000 local time, the Stark was warned of the approach of an Iraqi F-1 Mirage by an E-3 airborne warning and control system (AWACS) aircraft, via Navy tactical data system (NTDS) data link number 2202 through the USS Coontz (DDG-40), which was in the port of Manama, Bahrain. At 2010, the Start asked the AWACS to confirm that track number 2202 was indeed an Iraqi military aircraft. The Stark's commanding officer, Captain Glenn R. Brindel, was informed of the Iraqi aircraft’s presence by at least 2005, when the aircraft was about 200 nautical miles away.
Lieutenant Basil E. Moncrief was on watch in the Stark's combat information center (CIC), serving as tactical action officer (TAO). Captain Brindel stopped in the CIC at about 2015 and was reminded about the Iraqi aircraft.
On the bridge at 2055, Captain Brindel asked why there was no radar picture of the Iraqi aircraft. The CIC responded by switching the SPS-49 air-search radar to the 80-mile mode. The aircraft was acquired 70 miles out at 2058.
Lieutenant Moncrief was informed that the aircraft would have a four-nautical-mile closest point of approach (CPA) at 2102. Also at 2102, the radar signature of the Mirage’s Cyrano-IV air-intercept radar was detected, anti for several seconds the radar locked on to the Stark. At 2103, the SPS-49 operator requested permission from Lieutenant Moncrief to transmit a standard warning to the F-1. Moncrief said, “No, wait.”
Two minutes later, at 2105, the F-1 turned toward the Stark at 32.5 nautical miles out. It was on a virtual constant bearing, decreasing range, but this move was missed by the Stark's CIC. The first missile was launched at 2107, 22.5 nautical miles from the Stark.
The forward lookout saw the missile launch, but it was first identified as a surface contact. Lieutenant Moncrief finally observed the F-1 course change at 2107. Captain Brindel was called, but could not be found.
The weapons control officer (WCO) console was manned, and at 2108 the Stark contacted the F-1 on the’ military air distress frequency, requesting identity. At that moment, however, the Iraqi pilot was firing his second Exocet. The electronic warfare technician at the SLQ-32 console heard the F-1’s Cyrano-IV again lock on to the Stark. The lock-on signal ceased after seven to ten seconds. Permission was given at this time to arm the super rapid blooming offboard chaff (SRBOC) launchers. A second warning was radioed to the F-1 at about 2108, and the Stark's Phalanx Gatling gun was placed in “standby mode.”
At 2109, the Stark locked on to the F-1 with her combined antenna system. The lookout reported an inbound missile to the CIC, but the report was not relayed to the attack TAO. The first missile hit the hit the Stark at 2109, and she went to general quarters. As Captain Brindel entered the CIC, the second incoming missile, observed from the bridge, 20 to 30 seconds after the first.
Why as the threat not respond not recognized? Why did the Stark not respond to the attack until it was too late? Why were weapons designed to thwart an attack unable to protect the ship? Why did so many die after the ship was struck?
Recognizing the Threat: In February, before joining the Middle East Task Force, the Stark received a classified operations/rules of engagement (ROE) intelligence briefing from the Commander Middle East Force (CoMidEastFor) staff ln Djibouti. According to the Sharp Report, the ROE tack 6r highlighted that the probability of deliberate attack in the Persian Gulf was a significant danger.”
The danger was thus announced—but how was it characterized? U. S. warships had not been attacked by Iran or Iraq. Iraq was practically an ally; U. S. forces were there to defend states directly supporting the Iraqi war effort. Why should an Iraqi aircraft be perceived as a threat? The flight profile of the Mirage F-1 that attacked the Stark was typical; the Iraqi Air Force had mounted 330 such missions in the previous nine months, striking 40 ships. More that 100 Exocets had been fired by Iraqi aircraft in the Gulf.
The unclassified Sharp Report states that the rules of engagement were ‘‘sufficient to enable Stark to properly n the Iraqi aircraft . . .and, if the warning was not heeded, [they] were sufficient to enable Stark to defend herself against hostile intent and imminent danger without absorbing the first hit.”
Certainly Captain Brindel had authority to encourage his watch officers to take more strenuous early action. Authority, however, does not equal expectation. A threat was present, but not from air attack. Before 17 May, there were two overriding concerns for CoMidEastFor—mines and “political incidents.” U. S. forces were in a fragile position, vulnerable to embarrassment. But a rash reaction—for example, shooting down a (friendly) Iraqi aircraft on the assumption it had hostile intent—was to be avoided. The initial briefing might have promoted a general restraint that inhibited early aggressive response to a threat, or even the early detection and recognition of a threat.
When the Stark arrived (an operational ingenue), her captain and crew attempted to assimilate the perspective of Middle East Force veterans: the United States was in control and the air picture was covered, the AWACS and its NTDS links could track and relay—in real time—the movements of everything in the air.
The Stark’s crew imbibed of this mission perspective. On the night of the attack, the Stark was in Condition-Ill, with one-third of her crew at battle stations. The CIC watch was remarkably relaxed about the movement of the Iraqi aircraft; after all, Iraqi aircraft overflew U. S. combatants every day, and AWACS operators even referred to them as “strike support general” rather than “hostile” aircraft. ROE briefings were careful and comprehensive. The emphasis on the threat, however, consistently underscored the primary risk as that of inadvertent attack. Despite this, even the recognition of possible inadvertent attacks came slowly.
Responding to Attack: Lieutenant Moncrief, the TAO, was aware of the Iraqi F-1, but waited until the last minute to hail the aircraft. He should have been warned about the incoming missiles. Both the SPS-49 air-search radar and the SLQ-32(V)2 electronic countermeasures system should have detected the Exocets.
Did the SPS-49 detect the Exocet’s separation from the F-1? It should have, but the Exocet has only a 14-inch diameter radar cross-section. Did the SLQ-32 detect the missiles? It should have, but may have improperly identified them. The SLQ-32 had Exocet parameters in its software library, but this software might have been flawed or out of date, a problem the Navy has admitted.
Perhaps the SLQ-32 operator missed the signal. Electronic warfare specialists, however, insist that it is extremely difficult to mistake an incoming missile symbol on the SLQ-32 screen. The Iraqi pilot may have attempted to jam the SLQ-32. Neither of the two SLQ-32 operators saw a missile warning. The main operator at the console, however, had turned off the incoming missile audible signal warning. He claimed later that the alarm was typically set off too easily, and distracted him from performing other signal analysis. He might have been distracted momentarily while answering Lieutenant Moncrief.
Ironically, on 14 May, the Navy conducted trials against simulated Exocet attacks off Puerto Rico with a Ticonderoga (CG-47)-class Aegis cruiser and one of the Stark's Oliver Hazard Perry (FFG-7)-class sisters. It was later reported that Navy defenses were rated only as “adequate” against the latest Exocet version. Though the Navy was confident that FFG-7 sensors could detect and track a single-wave/single-direction missile attack, the incoming missile track was lost at times. That is why FFG-7s were put in the Gulf in the first place. Air attacks were considered the most likely threat, and the FFG-7s supposedly could handle it.
Thus, it is unclear whether the Stark's sensors gave timely warning of the incoming missiles. Ultimately, this may be an irrelevant issue.
Lieutenant Moncrief gave the Iraqi aircraft his full attention. Seven minutes before the first missile hit the Stark, he was informed that the Iraqi F1would pass within four nautical miles of the Stark and that the Cyrano-IV radar had locked on to the ship. Four minutes before the first impact, the F-1 turned toward the Stark on an intercept course. The Iraqi radar again locked on just a minute or so before the first missile hit.
The Iraqi Mirage was on an attack profile, but the TAO was unable to recognize it. His response was to send a tardy radio identity request. When there was no immediate response, he sent another. He placed the Phalanx on standby, armed the chaff launchers, and sent for Captain Brindel. The Stark's fire-control radar was not locked on to the F-1 until the minute the first missile hit. General quarters was not sounded until after the first hit.
What should the TAO have done?
Three days before the attack, the destroyer Coontz was approached by an Iraqi Mirage. When the aircraft came within 39 miles, the Coontz requested a radio identification. While waiting for a response, the Coontz turned broadside to bring her battery to bear, put a Standard missile on the launcher rail, and armed her chaff launcher. The Iraqi pilot never turned his aircraft toward the Coontz-
The Stark's TAO did no more than arm the chaff launchers. He should have requested a radio identification when the SPS-49 operator first asked permission. When the Iraqi aircraft actually turned toward the Stark on an intercept course three minutes later, he should have put the Phalanx on automatic, locked on the fire-control radar, and altered the Stark's course. Had the Iraqi pilot missed the identification request, he could not have ignored a “paint” by the Stark’s fire-control radar.
Defending Against Attack: The Stark was supposed to be operating in Condition-III, which means that all weapon and sensor stations should have been manned, allowing a rapid, full engagement of weapons. But, out on a lonely radar picket post just miles from the edge of the Iran-Iraq war zone, the Stark’s chaff launchers were not armed, the Phalanx was turned off, the .50-caliber machine guns were not loaded, and the gunner’s mate assigned to the .50-caliber mount was actually lying down on the job. Worse, only one weapons control console operator was on watch in the CIC. The weapons control officer believed he was in Condition-III/White, and thus had not initialized his console into Condition-III/Yellow.
In other words, the Stark was not ready to use her weapons even if a decision had been made to use them. The Standard missile, the Stark’s main battery, could have been used only against the Iraqi aircraft. Had the first Exocet missile launch been detected, there might have been time to launch a missile against the F-1 with some chance of success before the aircraft turned away.
The Phalanx antimissile Gatling gun might have countered both missiles if the system had been placed on automatic rather than standby, and if the Stark had turned roadside to the attacker. Even on standby, the Phalanx began to search for targets, but there is no indication that it detected the missiles. The Stark was hit at 330° relative, near the limit of the Phalanx’s engagement arc. The missiles could have approached along the edge of the Phalanx’s blind zone.
In addition, there have been reports of maintenance problems with the Stark's Phalanx in the weeks preceding the attack. Unclassified excerpts from the Sharp Report state that the Stark's Phalanx “CIWS [close-in weapon system] was out periodicity for preaction calibration (PAC) for firing.” There is no evidence, however, that the Phalanx was inoperable or out of commission.
Had SRBOC system been fully armed, full chaff bloom could have been achieved in seconds, and could have been effective even if employed very late. It was the second missile, arriving at least 20 seconds after the first, at caused the casualties.
Under Attack: The FFG-7 class was designed almost 20 years They met tough Navy survivability standards, for frigates, and were given good watertight subdivision, several fire zones, and some separation and redundancy of vital systems—before the Belknap fire and the Falklands conflict. Extra “survivability features” were added during construction, including Kevlar and aluminum fragmentation armor, and Halon fire-fighting systems. However, the vulnerability of the aluminum superstructure could only be mitigated, not eliminated.
Nevertheless, the Stark took two missile hits and survived. Damage control was magnificent. Despite losing the forward fire main, which was ruptured by the missiles, and fire so intense that it spread by heat radiation through the hull and bulkheads—actually melting parts of the substructure, the crew extinguished the fire without assistance. They saved their ship after a crippling attack, and brought her safely back to port.
Ethos and Combat Readiness: We can see that the ship, her weapons, and the crew bear no blame for the damage and casualties. Was it the commanding officer, who, in the words of the Sharp Report, “failed to provide combat-oriented leadership”? Was it the TAO, part of a “CIC team” whose “anti-air warfare readiness had disintegrated”? Was it CoMidEastFor, who set the command tone between self-defense and overreaction? Or was it a collective attitude throughout the Middle East Force that tended to discount the threat?
Perhaps we should take a step back. Commodore Barron, commanding officer of the Chesapeake in 1807, had not cleared the decks for action when the Leopard pulled alongside, just as the Stark’s TAO had not put her Phalanx on auto or sounded general quarters before the first Exocet hit.
There are really two U. S. navies—one for peace and one for war. The difference is mental readiness. In war, one’s senses are honed for battle; in peace, even where the threat of “inadvertent attack” is considered, one’s senses must be leashed. The peacetime Navy remains a key instrument of U. S. foreign policy. The commanders and crew of its ships cannot assume the “dangerous” mental edge of warriors when engaged in delicate diplomacy.
These cultural restraints inhibit the appointment of aggressive leaders to major commands in peace. Warriors remain throughout the service in peace, but they are often passed over. They are permitted to stay only if they are quiet.
The Navy’s natural selection during peacetime mirrors American society. We have always imagined a gulf between war and peace. We have attempted to separate cleanly our values and our behavior accordingly, and this has limited our effectiveness in a world of shadow conflict, or “violent peace.” Even when we bridge that gulf and formally go to war, the mental transformation from gentility to the warrior’s ethic that demands unconditional surrender takes time. How long does it take the warrior to emerge?
During World War II in the Pacific theater, it took months. On the night of 9 August 1942, as a Japanese cruiser force neared U. S. forces off Savo Island, the picket destroyer Blue (DD-387) completely missed the Japanese force passing within 10,000 yards. Earlier that day, there were air intelligence reports of a Japanese approach, but these were dismissed as a seaplane tender contingent—an air threat to assess “tomorrow morning.”
Savo Island was one of the United States’ bloodiest naval defeats. The battle’s pattern of unfolding disaster demonstrates the same absence of mental readiness—a warrior ethos—witnessed in the Stark attack. And Savo occurred nine months into World War II.
If our society does not want to nurture the mental edge for combat while we are “at peace,” then we should confess at least our role, however indirectly sensed, in the tragic consequence of sending mentally disarmed men into harm’s way.