THE CNO: Unfaltering Competence & an Uncommon Flair

THE plaque on his desk in the Pentagon's E-Ring reads FAST CHARGER. This was the radio call of Admiral George W. Anderson Jr. when he was commander of the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean. It is also appropriate to the man who, as Chief of Naval Operations, holds responsibility for forging and operating the Cuba blockade. For he is an aggressive blue-water sailor of unfaltering competence and uncommon flair.

He was destined for the Navy. Son of a Brooklyn real estate man, Anderson developed a childhood love of the sea while running an outboard motorboat in the waters off Long Island's South Shore. A bright kid, he zipped through a Jesuit high in fast time, graduated at 16. When he heard that Manhattan Congressman Ogden Mills had a couple of Naval Academy billets at his disposal, Anderson wrote a persuasive letter requesting an appointment. Mills, who did not represent Anderson's district, wired back: Establish residence in Manhattan and the appointment is yours. Anderson did so, entered the Annapolis class of 1927 and was graduated 27th.

Now Anderson longed for wings. Annapolis had given him a short course in aviation, and in 1930, following a brief stint on a cruiser in the Pacific, he shipped to Pensacola for full flight training. After that, he flew catapult-launched seaplanes from the decks of cruisers in the Atlantic Fleet, suffered his first "and only significant" crash: during aerial gunnery practice one day, a tow target got wrapped around Anderson's propeller; the plane came down flat on its back onto a Virginia beach. Anderson crawled out uninjured.

It was long obvious that the big (6 ft. 2 in., 180 Ibs.), handsome naval officer--among other things, he is called "Gorgeous George"--was headed for big things.* He flew Grumman fighters from the carrier Lexington, was a landing signal officer on the carrier Yorktown, executive officer of a squadron of PBY patrol planes. In 1943, he saw action in the Pacific as navigator and tactical officer aboard the newly commissioned Yorktown (the first carrier Yorktown went down in June 1942). He then held down an assortment of desk jobs in postwar Washington, and in 1950 was named operations officer of the Sixth Fleet. That same year, General Eisenhower, who was setting up his SHAPE headquarters in Paris, wired CNO Forrest Sherman: SEND ME THE SMART EST NAVAL AVIATOR YOU'VE GOT. Ike got Anderson, made him senior U.S. officer for plans and operations.

As a three-star admiral in 1957, Anderson was named chief of staff to Pacific Fleet Commander Felix Stump. But in order to fulfill the old Navy tradition that an admiral's flag is never really earned until it has been flown at sea, Anderson asked for and got a reduction to two-star rank so that he could command a carrier division. He got the star back in 1959 when he took over command of the Sixth Fleet.

Those who served with him in the Mediterranean--from the swabbies on up--testify to the excellence of his service with the Sixth Fleet. With 60 ships, 200 planes and 30,000 men, Anderson spider-webbed the Mediterranean, keeping watch on trouble spots and dogging Soviet "trawlers." He also worked as a diplomat, became friendly with European leaders who came to regard him as a representative of U.S. policy in the region.

His own men never saw such a stickler for propriety, protocol and taut-ship policy. He was forever turning up on board destroyers, submarines and carriers when least expected. He praised smart crews generously, but the sloppy ones got caustic criticism. To one skipper who executed an awkward maneuver, Anderson signaled:

I AM NOT IMPRESSED. A devout Roman Catholic, he sermonized his men with endless broadcasts on clean living ("The Sea Scout Hour," one irreverent sailor called them). He sent medics out to feed penicillin pills to prostitutes at ports of call (and thereby cut his sailors' venereal disease rate by half), peppered the fleet with pious maxims. His most famous bulletin to all hands was titled: #%&?*!¢. "Foul language," it began, "is not the sign of a man!" It went on to spell out "The Code of the Uncouth" under the head WHY I USE OBSCENE LANGUAGE. Sample sarcasms: "It PLEASES my mother so much. It is a fine mark of MANLINESS."

At the same time, Anderson exhibited a human touch. If he heard that a man's wife was ailing, he sent her flowers. When an officer's wife was sent to the hospital, Anderson temporarily transferred the husband to shore duty near by. One speech showed the breadth of his concern for his men: "A ship deployed for eight months means America's great power is being projected overseas, but it also means loneliness for wives and families, babies born while father is in Antarctica, on Polaris patrol, or steaming in the Formosa Strait; many small things--the uncut lawn--the leaky faucet--the unfixed bike ..."

With retirement of CNO Arleigh Burke last year, Washington buzz-buzz naturally put George Anderson in line for the job. Kennedy's first Navy Secretary, John B. Connally, had Anderson on his list-along with 108 other senior officers. For weeks Connally stuffed a notebook with biographies and records of all the candidates, finally narrowed them down to a dozen. By this time he had an idea of the sort of man he--and the President--wanted: a strong leader, one with extensive fleet experience, one who had dealt with Army and Air Force leaders along with statesmen and military chiefs. That turned out to be a personal portrait of Admiral George Anderson.

In his brief time as CNO Anderson has made his philosophy of command a day-to-day reality. As he explains it: "One, get a good chief of staff. Two, keep a firm grasp of fundamentals. Three, leave details to the staff. Four, go for morale, which is of almost transcending importance. And next, don't bellyache and don't worry. Show confidence, because if you don't have confidence, certainly your subordinates won't."

Last week his aides got a chance to see that philosophy in action. The big, white-painted office in the E-Ring was almost serene as the CNO read dispatches, scribbled notes and comments with a red pencil (no other Navyman in the Pentagon uses red, thus his communications get instant attention) and fielded hot telephone calls. He has had little time at his big, 14-room home with his wife** since the Cuban crisis broke; his days have been stretched from the routine twelve-hour watch to 18, but he can still laugh when the pressure is on. The other day he found an envelope on his desk, addressed in red: URGENT--TO THE CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS--PRIVATE. Anderson instantly opened it to find a greeting card that only a Navy man could cherish. IN THESE TIMES OF STRESS, it read. KEEP A COOL HEAD. Inside the card was a drawing of a Navy "head"--a toilet--on which rested a big block of ice. It was signed, "Your sometime wife.''

* Said TIME in July 1951: "Captain George Anderson ... is, according to Pentagon scuttlebutt, 'sure to be made CNO some day.' "

** Anderson's first wife died of cancer in 1947. His second, Mary Lee Lamar Sample Anderson, was the widow of a Xavy flyer who was killed in a crash in Japan.

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