Strategic Basing and the Great Powers, 1200-2000 (Strategy and History)

Strategic Basing and the Great Powers, 1200–2000

This is the first book to survey the evolution of the strategic basing systems of the great powers. It covers an 800-year span of history, from the Mongol dynasty to the era of the U.S. empire. The author details the progression of strategic basing systems and power projection, from its beginnings at a regional level to its current global reach, while emphasizing the interplay between political and international systemic factors (bipolar vs. multipolar systems), and technological factors. Analyzing the relationship between basing structures and national power, the book deals with such key questions as the co-mingling of military and commercial functions for bases, seapower, geopolitical theory, imperial “pick-off” during hegemonic wars, base acquisitions, continuity between basing structures and long-term shifts in basing functions. This book will be of much interest to students of strategic studies, military history and international relations. Robert E. Harkavy is visiting professor at the Christian Albrechts University, Kiel, Germany and professor emeritus of political science at The Pennsylvania State University. He has authored and edited numerous books, most recently the co-authored Warfare and the Third World (2001).

Strategy and history Series Editors: Colin Gray and Williamson Murray ISSN: 1473–6403

This new series will focus on the theory and practice of strategy. Following Clausewitz, strategy has been understood to mean the use made of force, and the threat of the use of force, for the ends of policy. This series is as interested in ideas as in historical cases of grand strategy and military strategy in action. All historical periods, near and past, and even future, are of interest. In addition to original monographs, the series will from time to time publish edited reprints of neglected classics as well as collections of essays. 1 Military Logistics and Strategic Performance Thomas M. Kane 2 Strategy for Chaos Revolutions in military affairs and the evidence of history Colin Gray 3 The Myth of Inevitable US Defeat in Vietnam C. Dale Walton 4 Astropolitik Classical geopolitics in the space age Everett C. Dolman 5 Anglo-American Strategic Relations and the Far East, 1933–1939 Imperial crossroads Greg Kennedy

6 Pure Strategy Power and Principle in the Space and Information Age Everett C. Dolman 7 The Red Army, 1918–1941 From vanguard of world revolution to US ally Earl F. Ziemke 8 Britain and Ballistic Missile Defence, 1942–2002 Jeremy Stocker 9 The Nature of War in the Information Age Clausewitzian future David J. Lonsdale 10 Strategy as Social Science Thomas Schelling and the nuclear age Robert Ayson

11 Warfighting and Disruptive Technologies Disguising innovation Terry Pierce 12 The Fog of Peace and War Planning Military and strategic planning under uncertainty Edited by Talbot C. Imlay and Monica Duffy Toft

18 Science, Strategy and War The strategic theory of John Boyd Frans P.B. Osinga 19 US Defense Strategy from Vietnam to Operation Iraqi Freedom Military innovation and the new American way of war, 1973–2003 Robert R. Tomes

13 US Army Intervention Policy and Army Innovation From Vietnam to Iraq Richard Lock-Pullan

20 US Special Forces and Counterinsurgency in Vietnam Military innovation and institutional failure, 1961–63 Christopher K. Ives

14 German Disarmament After World War I The diplomacy of international arms inspection 1920–1931 Richard J. Shuster

21 War in Iraq Planning and execution Thomas G. Mahnken and Thomas A. Keaney

15 Strategy and History Essays on theory and practice Colin S. Gray

22 War, Peace and International Relations An introduction to strategic history Colin S. Gray

16 The German 1918 Offensives A case study in the operational level of war David T. Zabecki 17 Special Operations and Strategy From World War II to the War on Terrorism James D. Kiras

23 Clausewitz and America Strategic thought and practice from Vietnam to Iraq Stuart Kinross 24 Strategic Basing and the Great Powers, 1200–2000 Robert E. Harkavy

Strategic Basing and the Great Powers, 1200–2000

Robert E. Harkavy

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” © 2007 Robert E. Harkavy All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Harkavy, Robert E. Strategic basing and the great powers, 1200–2000/by Robert E. Harkavy. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Military bases. 2. Strategy–History. I. Title. UA10.H38 2007 355.7–dc22 2006101906 ISBN 0-203-70007-4 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-70176-7 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-70007-4 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-70176-1 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-70007–5 (ebk)

Contents

Acknowledgments Abbreviations

viii ix

1

Introduction

2

The Mongols and the Mings: naval basing during an earlier age of sail

29

The Mediterranean basing competition and galley warfare: Venice, Genoa, Ottoman Empire, Spain, c.1200–1600

32

4

Basing systems in the age of empire and sail

44

5

The interwar period: a transitional era

72

6

Bases during the Cold War: the bipolar base race

94

7

After the Cold War: basing in a unipolar system

147

Appendices Notes Index

175 257 275

3

1

Acknowledgments

The author wishes to thank a number of individuals and organizations for assistance, financial and otherwise, in relation to this work. Thanks are rendered to the Earhart Foundation, the Alexander von Humboldt Stiftung (Germany) and the U.S. Fulbright Commission for grants supporting this project, in the latter case involving a research/teaching award for time spent at the Institute for Political Science, Christian Albrechts University, Kiel, Germany. The author was also involved in some consulting work for the U.S. Naval War College, Center for Naval Warfare, which resulted in a spin-off publication derived from work on this book. The Pennsylvania State University granted the author a sabbatical leave year that was devoted to this project. And, the author was hosted for that year and several subsequent summers by the aforementioned institute at Kiel, directed by Professor Joachim Krause, where much of the research and writing was conducted. Several Penn State University undergraduates assisted with research for this project: Lucian Czarnecki, James Farrand, Shauna Moser, Elizabeth Degner, Melinda Kuritzky, Julienne Shaw, Owen Bergwall, Tiffany Iriana and Megan Leary. They are heartily thanked. If others deserving mention have been omitted, apologies are offered. Tammi Aumiller did her usual super job of typing and organizing the manuscript for a semi-computer illiterate professor, and is again thanked for a good job. Funding for secretarial assistance was provided by the Penn State Political Science Department. Thanks are also expressed to Professor Edward Keynes, long-time colleague and friend, for crucial assistance in various ways over many years.

Abbreviations

ABM AFB AFSATCOM AFTAC AGI ALCM ANZUS ASW AWACS BMEWS CADIN CBO CDAA CENTO COMINT CONUS COW CSL CVN DCS DEW DF DMZ DOD DSP EEZ EHF ELF EMP EPARCS ESG FLOT

Anti-Ballistic Missile Air Force Base Air Force Satellite Communications System Air Force Technical Applications Center Auxiliary Intelligence Ships Air Launched Cruise Missile Australia–New Zealand–United States Anti-submarine Warfare Airborne Warning and Central Systems Ballistic Missile Early Warning System Continental Air Defense Integration Congressional Budget Office Circularly Disposed Antenna Array Central Treaty Organization Communications Intelligence Continental United States Correlates of War Cooperative Security Location aircraft carrier, nuclear powered Defense Communication System Distant Early Warning Direction-Finding System Demilitarized Zone Department of Defense Defense Support Program Exclusive Economic Zone Extremely-High Frequency Extremely-Low Frequency Electro-Magnetic Pulse Enhanced Perimeter Acquisition Radar Attack Characterization System Expeditionary Strike Group Forward Line of Troops

x

Abbreviations

FLTSATCOM FMP FOB GCC GCHQ GEODSS GLCM GNP GWEN HF HUMINT ICBM INF IRBM JDAM LF LORAN MEB MID MIDAS MOB MRBM NATO NAVSTAR NORAD OEF OIF OTH PRC RAF RDF SATRAN SDI SEATO SHF SIGINT SIPRI SLBM SLOC SOSUS SRAM SSBN SSGN SSN STADAN

Fleet Satellite Communications System Foreign Military Presence Fractional Orbital Bombardment Gulf Cooperation Council Government Communications Headquarters Ground-based Electro-Optical Deep Space Surveillance system Ground-Launched Cruise Missiles Gross National Product Ground Wave Emergency System High Frequency Human Intelligence Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile Intermediate Force Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile Joint Direct Attack Munitions Low Frequency Long Range Navigation Marine Expeditionary Brigade Military Intelligence Division Missile Defense Alarm System Main Operating Base Medium Range Ballistic Missile North Atlantic Treaty Organization Navigation Satellite Time and Ranging North America Air Defense Operation Enduring Freedom Operation Iraqi Freedom Over the Horizon People’s Republic of China Royal Air Force Rapid Deployment Force Satellite Reconnaissance Advance Notice Strategic Defense Initiative Southeast Asia Treaty Organization Super-High Frequency Signals Intelligence Stockholm International Peace Research Institute Submarine-Launched Ballistic Missile Sea Lines of Communication Sound Surveillance System Short-Range Attack Missiles Sub-Surface Ballistic Nuclear Sub-Surface Guided Nuclear Sub-Surface Nuclear Satellite Tracking and Data Acquisition Network

Abbreviations SURTASS TACAMO UAE UHF USAF USG USN VHF VLF VOA WMD WTO

Surveillance Towed Array Sensor System Take Charge and Move Out United Arab Emirates Ultra-High Frequency U.S. Air Force U.S. Government U.S. Navy Very-High Frequency Very-Low Frequency Voice of America Weapon of Mass Destruction Warsaw Treaty Organization

xi

1

Introduction

One of the oldest and most enduring permanent features of relations between nations (earlier, other types of “entities” such as empires, city-states, etc.) is that of basing access, ad hoc or long-term, for military forces. Nowhere has this been better illustrated than by recent U.S. politico-diplomatic relations in relation first to the Gulf War, and then to the post-9/11 operations in Afghanistan, and then the invasion of Iraq. During the Gulf War, immediately following the end of the Cold War, U.S. forces were given access to bases and aircraft overflight corridors in a surprisingly comprehensive manner, not only by NATO and “moderate” Arab states such as Saudi Arabia, but by former Soviet-bloc antagonists, and by India. In the Afghanistan episode, crucial access for aircraft and intelligence operations was provided by, among other nations, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Oman, Pakistan, Turkey, Great Britain, Diego Garcia and the several exSoviet states of Central Asia: Kyrghizstan, Uzbekistan, Tadzikistan and Turkmenistan. But in the operation in Iraq, access was grudgingly given in Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Involved were a combination of factors: formal alliances, quid pro quo such as arms transfers and economic aid, political crosspressures on key states such as Saudi Arabia, international norms about preemptive military actions, and fear of retribution by Iraq and terrorist organizations. The events surrounding the problems of U.S. basing access in the Middle East in the decade or so after the end of the Cold War also underscored the longexistent interplay of political and technological factors that long has been a hallmark of basing diplomacy. The end of the Cold War, which had featured a rigid bipolar international system, saw the unraveling of alliance structures tied closely to ideological affinity after which basing access relationships became more ad hoc, situational, and relatively less tied to patterns of arms transfers. Hence, the U.S. access in 1990–1991 to Russian airspace and for transport staging in India, among others. Earlier, the advent of newer nuclear submarines carrying long-range Trident missiles had eliminated the need by the U.S. for overseas access for its SSBN force. On the technological side, however, the development of long-range bombers such as the U.S. B-2 and B-1 (in connection with better capability in aerial refueling) reduced the need for overseas bases for strategic bombing, though in the case of the B-1 and B-2, airfields in Diego Garcia remained important. There

2

Introduction

was a lot of talk about a future that might see “artificial bases” in the oceans beyond the 12-mile limits of sovereign countries. In the past, as pertains to the political side of basing, there had been a major divide between access provided by conquest, and that by ad hoc diplomacy or alliances. Hence, over several centuries, Portugal, Spain, France, the Netherlands and Britain were provided important basing points all over the world by dint of conquest, or by highly asymmetrical power relationships with “local” satraps, as in the cases of Portugal in India and the Netherlands in Indonesia. Within Europe, however, granting of basing access between sovereign and relatively equal states was part and parcel of ongoing diplomacy during periods of both peace and war. Hence, European states came to think of a division between intra-European politics, including bases, and what went on “beyond the line,” i.e., in colonial areas that were objects of political and economic competition. As we shall later explain, earlier developments in ship propulsion – galleys to sail to coal to oil – had also had a major impact on basing requirements and on the politics of basing access.

Introduction, background, importance of subject The subject of the (historically) global (or sub-global) basing networks of the rival, contending great powers and global hegemons is one which has been the subject of surprisingly little scrutiny by academic theorists. With one exception over a narrow expanse of time, there is no database of any sort (and the one exception covering the period 1945–1982 has never been put in machinereadable form, nor in an organized data format). It is perhaps only partially the case that this absence of a database (and of accompanying analysis)1 is the result of the difficulty of counting or aggregating bases in a meaningful way. But, the subject is an old, enduring and important one, never more so than at present.2 Thucydides wrote about Athenian and Spartan basing access rivalry during the Peloponnesian wars, which involved alliance politics in the Greek citystate systems. In the fifteenth century, the famous Chinese “eunuch admiral” Zheng. He3 roamed the Indian Ocean littoral with a large fleet, making use of a number of bases as far away as East Africa and the Persian Gulf and Bab el Mandeb areas. In the thirteenth century, the expanding Mongol Empire made use of bases in Korea and Vietnam, respectively, for launching invasions against Japan and Southeast Asia.4 During the age of galley warfare in the Mediterranean in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Venice, Genoa, the Ottoman Empire and Spain conducted a constant and ever shifting contest for strategic bases over a period of several centuries leading up to the battle of Lepanto, where what was at stake was control of the Mediterranean and the trade routes into Asia. Crucial here were Crete, Cyprus and other Greek Islands, the several ports in what are now Tunisia and Algeria, Sicily, Corfu and Malta, and the crucial area at the exit of the Adriatic Sea into the Mediterranean. After that, Portugal, Spain, France, England and the Netherlands competed for overseas basing access in their lengthy struggle over colonial empires, beginning with Portugal on an increasingly global basis.

Introduction

3

Those struggles became increasingly global, but some important coasts and chokepoints were consistently crucial: the Mediterranean, the entire East Africa/South Asia/Southeast Asia/Indian Ocean littoral, the Caribbean, Brazil and numerous oceanic islands, the Canaries, Azores, Mauritius, Ceylon, Indonesia, the Philippines etc.5 Long before Mackinder and Spykman, the “rimland” was a constant bone of contention. At the peak of the British Empire, observers pointed to the “keys” to that Empire, its main naval bases: Gibraltar, Cape Town, Mauritius, Singapore, Hong Kong, Malta, Suez, Aden, Mombasa, Bombay, Trincomalee and many others.6 During the Cold War, the U.S. and the USSR conducted a continuing struggle for ideological “client states,” which was centered on the use of arms transfers to acquire and maintain critical air, naval and technical intelligence facilities. During the 1973 Arab-Israeli war, the importance of bases was underscored by the U.S. use of air transit and tanker refueling facilities in the Portuguese Azores Islands and in Spain to conduct an air and sea lift on behalf of Israel. In 1975, in the case of the Angolan War, and in 1977–1978 during the “Horn War” between Ethiopia and Somalia, the Soviets used numerous air staging bases and overflight corridors to ship arms to clients, in the former case involving Algeria, Mali, Benin and Congo-Brazzaville.7 In the period leading up to World War II, Germany was availed by Spain of access for its submarines in the Balearic and Canary Islands.8 At the outset of World War II, as Germany took over most of continental Europe, the U.S. and Britain moved quickly to secure crucial strategic basing points in Greenland, Iceland and the Azores Islands, the former two still nominally parts of conquered Denmark. During the Gulf War in 1990–1991, the U.S. and its coalition partners had extensive access to naval and air bases and air overflight rights to assist their logistics operations, greatly at variance with long-established Cold War patterns.9 More recently, the U.S. military operations in Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11 highlighted the critical nature of basing access, as illustrated by the examples of Saudi Arabia, Oman, Qatar, Pakistan, British-owned Diego Garcia and the former Central Asian Soviet republics of Tadzhikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrghizstan. Beyond these visible events is the less visible and day-to-day diplomacy of port visits (“presence” or showing the flag), coercive diplomacy and arms resupply. Even after the end of the Cold War, bases in relation to strategic nuclear forces remained important, though the definition of “strategic” may now have acquired an altered meaning, no longer simply referring to the possibility of U.S.–USSR homeland exchanges and related problems of deterrence. In the matter of possible U.S. deployment of anti-ballistic missile defenses, in relation primarily to Iraq (earlier) and Iran, the use of crucial radars in Great Britain and Greenland (where radars for the BMEWS (Ballistic Missile Early Warning System) had long been operational) became an issue between the U.S. and some of its European allies. Likewise, more recently, a potential radar installation in Poland and missile sites in the Czech Republic have become issues between the U.S. and Russia. Deployment of U.S. nuclear weapons in the Far East remained

4

Introduction

an issue, now perceived largely in relation to China and North Korea and involving a panoply of technical facilities (communications, intelligence, nuclear detection). The DSP satellite systems, crucially involving infrared detection of multiple missile launches could, presumably, observe Chinese and North Korean as well as Russian launches.10 Nuclear detection facilities (large seismic arrays) likewise would be focused on new threats. And while the U.S. global SOSUS system appears largely to have been dismantled, there are likely remnants in the Far East and northwest Indian Ocean areas, for obvious reasons. The newer nuclear threats in Iran and North Korea will undoubtedly induce replacements for access for theater missile defense systems as well as ports for AEGIS ships mounting such systems, in regional ports. Access for B-1 and B-2 bombers in places like Diego Garcia will also require continued access for “strategic” systems. And, as the prospect of a new Cold War involving the U.S. and China loomed, China was reported as having achieved some access for technical facilities in the Coco Islands belonging to Burma, provisionally also with the building of deep water ports in Bangladesh and Pakistan.11 Not only does the crisis following 9/11 highlight the current importance of basing diplomacy. So too does the whole panoply of diplomatic activity concerning U.S. relations with Russia and Europe. Continuing U.S. access in Central Asia and the Caucasus depends on continuing improved relations with Russia, which maintains a sphere of influence in these vital (for Middle Eastern operations) regions. But, U.S. ambitions to build an effective ballistic missile defense with reference to Iran (maybe yet Pakistan) depend critically on access to radars in Greenland and northern Britain, and also perhaps Poland, which would involve upgrades of the long-existent BMEWS. In the past, this subject pertained almost entirely to naval bases and ports of call, and associated army forts and garrisons. Now, beginning with the Cold War and extending on to today, a superpower will require a bewildering array of technical facilities – satellite downlinks for missile launch detection, underwater sonar detection of submarines, navigation, ocean surveillance, down-range monitoring of missile tests, navigation and positioning of ships and planes, solar flare detection, radar picket lines, etc. In particular, the relevance of basing access to the Cold War nuclear arms race and arms control agreements is worth noting in retrospect. In the late 1950s, the U.S. had forward-based medium range ballistic missiles in the U.K., Italy, Turkey, Taiwan and Okinawa.12 It had earlier stationed B-29 bombers in the U.K.; later, F-111Es armed with nuclear weapons. Morocco and Spain provided access for the B-47 bomber “Reflex Force.”13 Nuclear-armed strategic submarines utilized for hunting Soviet nuclear-armed submarines were based in Faslane, Scotland, in LaMaddalena, Sardinia and in Sasebo, Japan. All across the Arctic rim (Labrador, Newfoundland, Greenland, Iceland, etc.) were tanker-refueling bases. To the reverse, the USSR, lacking the equivalent of the U.S. Eurasian rimland basing system, packed a lot of facilities (communications, satellite downlinks, etc.) into Cuba, in close proximity to the U.S., which is what triggered the Cuban Missile Crisis and kept U.S.–Cuban relations on a tense basis for a long time.

Introduction

5

Bases in history As a “unit of analysis,” we are using “base” or “basing access” to provide the basis for historical analysis. Most people assume they know what a base is – there is the vivid imagery of an air, naval or missile base, replete with arrays of attendant weapons systems and related infrastructure. But, otherwise, there are a host of definitional and semantic problems surrounding this subject, shifting through the centuries, and in some respects involving important political considerations. In the late Cold War period, for instance, the term “facilities” came commonly to replace “bases,” particularly in U.S. national security circles. The distinction involved matters of relative sovereignty between users and hosts. Where, as had normally been the case, the user country, most often the U.S., had near complete discretion when it came to use of the “base,” it could then be defined as such. Hence, if the U.S. could on its own decide to use an air base in the Philippines or Thailand for a military mission (or was required to provide no more than pro forma notifications), then, it was a “base.” Likewise, use of the latter term was preferred if the user was not much subject to onerous status of forces agreements that might, for instance, preclude local prosecution of foreign personnel for criminal activity. By the 1970s, however, with the fading context of post-World War II, many countries hosting U.S. (maybe also Soviet) “bases” began to insist on their sovereign rights over foreign military enclaves. Increasingly permission needed to be granted for launching military missions from the host’s territory. The Philippines and Japan began insisting on permission; likewise, Britain gave permission for the U.S. bombing raid on Libya in 1986, but this subsequently led to a political firestorm over Britain’s characterization as a stationary “aircraft carrier” for the use of the U.S. in Europe.14 Not only “traditional” air and naval bases were at issue. Some nations also began to demand a share in the intelligence “take” from overseas U.S. collection facilities such as electronic listening posts. This shift of sovereignty led some to abandon the use of the term “base” and, in its place, “facility” came into vogue as a matter of allegedly precise definition. Others preferred the more neutral term “installation.” Others modified “base” with “basing access,” or “strategic access.”15 The latter could accommodate a broader range of activities, including aircraft overflights, occasional ship port visits, or even access for intelligence assets, i.e., spies and covert operations. If that was not confusing enough, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) took to the terminology of FMP – Foreign Military Presence. This entailed also a rather broad construing of what earlier had been called “bases,” involving some ten sub-categories.16 The “presence” needed to be stationary on the ground, so overflights were not included. Generally, however, by the early twenty-first century, “bases” and “basing access” had appeared to come back into vogue; whether or not this was related to the end of the Cold War was not very clear. In earlier times, there were also definitional problems, but in a far different

6

Introduction

political context, and applying mostly to cases involving imperial control either over large territories, or, points d’appui or enclaves. The issue basically is one of the combined military and economic functions of bases in earlier periods. For instance, Portugal had numerous feitoria (factories) all along both coasts of Africa, trading posts often protected by small forts and garrisons and where warships paid visits and patrolled to deter others.17 Such combined bases/entrepôts are altogether lacking today, though numerous bases, such as those utilized by the U.S. in the Persian Gulf area, are largely devoted to protecting nearby economic assets, in this case oilfields; others strung out along SLOCs are also intended to deter the efforts of others at cutting an economic lifeline.

Existing literature and data The existing literature specifically pertaining to bases is very sparse. The author has previously written two books on this subject plus a variety of articles and book chapters on aspects of this subject, for instance, its connection with arms transfers. There is a short 1987 monograph by Blaker et al., mostly from a then contemporary American policy perspective.18 Scattered through the national security literature are narrowly based articles on one or another base or country host, such as the Philippines, or on one or another technical basing system such as LORAN or SOSUS.19 There is also a substantial policy-oriented literature on power projection, much of it produced in the late 1970s and early 1980s in the wake of the Carter Doctrine and its resultant Rapid Deployment Force (presently, the press and journals are full of similar analyses in the wake of 9/11).20 Earlier, in the wake of World War II, Weigert wrote a both seminal and somewhat obscure article on the need for the U.S. to abandon its previous isolationism and absence of attention to strategic bases, which was published in Foreign Affairs almost at the same time as the far more famous “Mr. X” article by George Kennan.21 But, there are numerous works on broader subjects, historically speaking, from which data and analysis of basing matters can be gleaned; indeed, these are the sources from which our data will mainly be derived.22 The two volumes by C.R. Boxer, respectively, on the Portuguese and Dutch seaborne empires are very useful in this respect; likewise the work of Parry on the Spanish seaborne empire.23 Historians such as Paul Kennedy and Gerald Graham have written detailed works on the maritime history of the British Empire, containing extensive data on bases.24 So too, the very valuable Atlas of British Overseas Expansion edited by Porter. The historian Fredrick Lane has done likewise for the Venetian maritime republic over several centuries.25 Perhaps the most valuable work of all is the three-volume series on naval warfare by the British historian Peter Padfield, which provides a veritable goldmine of data on basing activities over several centuries26 for Venice, the Ottoman Empire, Portugal, Spain, the Netherlands, France and the British Empire.27 Additionally, there are works on galley warfare in the Mediterranean (useful for mining data on Venice, Genoa, the Ottoman Empire and Spain) and on Baltic warfare over several centuries up

Introduction

7

to the eighteenth century, which provides a picture of the complex basing-access diplomacy and endless territorial changes involving Sweden, Denmark, Russia, Britain, France and the Netherlands.28 There is much more, mostly requiring a detailed reading of maritime history, for various great powers and for regions such as the Baltic, Mediterranean, West Africa, India and the Indian Ocean, etc. The first book on basing by Harkavy, published in 1982, was an effort at comparing the interwar and postwar (up to around 1980) periods.29 That involved an effort at analyzing basing networks and associated diplomacy as a function of system structure, i.e., the more multipolar and less ideological driven (in terms of international alignments) interwar period versus the ideologically polarized Cold War period. For the interwar period, data were derived from the resources of the Military Intelligence Division (MID) files in the U.S. National Archives. That book also had to deal with the obvious fact that basing access in the period before 1940 was mostly a function of colonial control, whereas after World War II the colonial empires gradually collapsed (and with them, some very important points of U.S. access), and basing diplomacy more and more came to be hinged on client relationships derived from security assistance, in turn rooted in ideological affinity. In the interwar period there was also very little provision of access by one sovereign state to another, clearly a function of the absence of long-term stable alliances in what was to a degree a multipolar system (German bases in the Spanish Canary Islands and Japanese access to Siamese facilities were exceptions).30 Then, later, after 199l, the Cold War and the superpower ideological rivalry came mostly to an end and, with it, the total collapse of the Soviet basing system, and the concomitant partial collapse of its U.S. equivalent, somewhat compensated for in the latter case by newer technological developments involving aircraft ranges and refueling and the lesser need for ground-based satellite downlinks because of newer satellite capabilities. But in the U.S. case at least, the need remained for extensive global networks for technical facilities related to communications and intelligence. The second Harkavy book, published in 1989, detailed the rival U.S., Soviet, and also British and French, basing networks as they had evolved to the end of the Cold War. That book relied in part on a fairly detailed data set compiled by Owen Wilkes at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, which was particularly strong concerning esoteric technical facilities.31 The Wilkes data set is still useful, albeit in need of updating even for the recent 25 years, aside from everything before 1945. In this present book we shall extend the database way back in time, encompassing the entire period since the thirteenth century, as it pertains to the great powers and maritime hegemons (in all periods, the basing assets of the several leading powers accounts for virtually all of what is involved, easily more than 95 percent of all basing relationships).

Data sources: a note When first envisaged, the aim of this book was to tie the work almost solely to long cycle theory, or a combination of that and the more Marxist inspired work

8

Introduction

by Wallerstein and others on international system theory. In one form or another, that would have involved gathering data for the serial hegemonic maritime and commercial powers, probably just Venice, Portugal, the Netherlands, two phases of the British Empire, and the current period of U.S. hegemony (there are arguments in the literature about whether Portugal or Spain deserves the label of hegemon in the sixteenth century). This simplified study of basing access would have been sufficient in allowing for a focus strictly on the hegemons (and hence, theoretically, a focus on long cycle theory, international system theory, seapower theories and some aspects of traditional geopolitical theory). But, it would also leave out much that is important in the history of basing access, i.e., “base races” between hegemons and their rivals, or between predominantly maritime powers and their European continental landpower rivals. It would also not allow for a focus on regions such as the Mediterranean and the Baltic seas during critical periods in which contending powers were contesting access to bases. Also, a focus on long cycle theory incorporates the assumption of serial unipolarity in the system, something that is contested by theorists of polarity and system structure who are more likely to see alternation between periods of unipolarity, bipolarity and multipolarity, and who, despite the claims of seapower theorists that seapowers have habitually won out in hegemonic competitions with landpowers (the denouement of the Cold War has appeared to reinforce this view, the absence of a deciding hegemonic war notwithstanding),32 might insist on not forgetting the power and importance of, for instance, France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Germany, France and Russia in the nineteenth century, and, of course, the Soviet Union in the Cold War period. For these reasons, the project became more ambitious and involves a considerably more extensive dataset than originally envisaged. Using an extended version of Jack Levy’s33 definition of the “great powers” and also going back earlier than the modern European state system, so as partly to modify the problem of Eurocentrism, it was decided to compile data for the following countries in the indicated time frames: • • • • • • • • •

The Mongol Empire at its peak in the thirteenth century; Ming China at the time of Zheng Ho and the “Voyages of the Dragon”; Venice during the long period its ascendancy to hegemony in the Mediterranean, roughly from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries; Genoa during the same time frame, but truncated toward the end after its decline relative to Venice; The Ottoman Empire at its peak, from the fifteenth century through the end of the sixteenth century; Portugal from the late fifteenth century into the seventeenth century; Spain from the late fifteenth century into the eighteenth century; The Netherlands, during its peak of empire in the seventeenth century and beyond; France, from the seventeenth century up to the present;

Introduction • • • •

9

Britain, from the seventeenth century up the present; Russia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and the Soviet Union during the Cold War; Germany during the late nineteenth century and on up to World War I, again up to World War II; The U.S. in the twentieth century and on up to the present; Japan in the period preceding World War II.

One major problem is that of the vast asymmetries in the sizes of the datasets for the serial hegemonic or great powers. The Mongol Empire had only a few naval bases in Asia. Venice, Genoa and the Ottoman Empire may have had numbers of bases at the peaks of their maritime power numbered in the low to middle tens. The numbers begin to expand for Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands. By the time of the British Empire, we are dealing with perhaps 100 or more naval bases, points d’appui and coaling stations. But when we get to the Cold War, the numbers explode because of advancing technology, to incorporate air as well as naval facilities, and a vast proliferation of technical facilities, adding up to hundreds of facilities on both sides (the U.S. numbers were much higher). The expanded number of independent sovereignties, and thus, potential basing hosts, is also relevant here. Stated another way, up to World War I, the “story” with bases concerned mostly naval facilities and some army garrisons – the sole exceptions were the terminals for the underwater communications cables established by Britain and Germany before World War I.34 By the end of the twentieth century, in sheer quantitative terms, the number of U.S. and Soviet technical facilities far exceeded the number of their air and naval bases. One can see this, for instance, in the appendix of Richelson’s and Ball’s book on the U.K.–USA intelligence network, The Ties That Bind,35 in which they list literally hundreds of communications and intelligence facilities used by the combined Anglo-Saxon nations during the Cold War.

Key questions, issues Following are the key questions, themes and criteria amounting to a range of conceptual and historical-developmental questions, to be addressed and analyzed over some 700 years, involving the great powers and/or long cycle hegemons. • •

•

The correlation of basing networks to measures of national power. The fundamental problem of reciprocal causation involved in the question of whether maritime dominance has resulted in corresponding dominant patterns of basing access, or whether the latter has provided for maritime dominance, or both have developed simultaneously in ways perhaps too complex to allow for easy attribution of causality. The long-term evolvement of basing networks from “regional reach”

10

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

Introduction (Venice in the Mediterranean) to “quasi-global reach” (Portugal around the Indian Ocean littoral and across the Atlantic in Brazil), to truly global reach in the more recent cases of Great Britain and the U.S. “Global reach” has become increasingly global. The vastly increasing proliferation of types of basing access. Venice, Portugal, and the Netherlands sought and acquired naval bases only (albeit of somewhat differentiated types), i.e., basing networks were almost entirely defined by naval installations. By the later twentieth century, rival U.S. and Soviet global networks comprised a diverse array of military functions under the general rubrics of air, naval, ground, missile, communications, space-related, intelligence, research, logistics bases, etc. Whereas earlier bases related almost entirely to surface naval activities around the major seas and oceans, today they relate to complex interactions between land, air, outer space and underseas military activities as well as those on the surface of the major seas. The earlier mixing or co-mingling of military (naval) and commercial (entrepôt) functions for specific external bases; later, these military and economic functions would largely be separated out. The relationship of rival basing networks (often highly asymmetric) to the traditional Mahanian concept or dictum about the indivisibility of seapower or “command of the sea.” Has the coexistence of rival basing networks, albeit asymmetric, diluted this maxim or dictum?36 Does the coexistence of naval basing networks even amidst periods of seemingly global dominance dilute the central thesis of long cycle theory and perhaps provide indicators of multipolarity and power diffusion? The long-range connection of long cycle theory to traditional geopolitical theory (Mackinder, Mahan, Spykman, et al.), as informed by analysis of basing networks as reflective of “heartland vs. rimland,” or landpower vs. seapower dualisms. The relationship of basing access networks to the outcomes of hegemonic wars, but also, the gradualness of “base races” or contests over access before, after, and in-between major wars. The ability of dominant naval powers to “pick off” rival bases and colonial outposts during wars, further, the deterrent aspects of this possibility. There may be a relationship here to the recently evolved concept – during the latter part of the Cold War – of “horizontal escalation.” The use of external bases for offshore ship production in earlier phases of hegemonic cycles; in modern times, the crucial role of ship repair but also licensed ship and other weapons production as a contemporary analog. The long-term shift in the mix of basing functions, i.e., from commerce raiding in earlier times to various aspects of interventions, arms resupply, coercive diplomacy etc., in modern times. The evolvement of mixed governments-private basing activities earlier (trading companies, privateers) to the more or less entirely state-based nature of contemporary basing diplomacy.

Introduction •

•

•

11

How bases are acquired and retained in historical context, i.e., the varying roles of colonial conquest, alliances and arms transfers as quid pro quo, etc., in different historical epochs. Stated otherwise, the historical evolution of basing diplomacy. The changing technological requirements for bases, namely, for naval basing, the progression from galleys, to galleons, to coal-fired ships to oilfired ships, and nuclear-powered ships. Thompson’s recent work on “system leader lineage,” the extent of congruence of the serial basing networks of Portugal, the Netherlands, Great Britain and the U.S., emanating from a core area of hegemonic dominance, and the long-term nature of the strategic importance of certain key oceanic areas and routes, naval chokepoints, islands, etc.37

Many of these questions will be addressed below, not altogether in the above order, as they are in some cases inextricably entwined with one another. The others will be picked up in the subsequent analysis of basing structures in the earlier, serial historical eras.

Regional reach to global reach Although it has become habitual to speak of long-cycle hegemons beginning with sixteenth century Portugal as having a global or near-global reach, it is perhaps the case that only the British Empire and post-World War II U.S. have truly exhibited a global or near-global presence, measured by colonial possessions and bases in the former case, and bases in the latter.38 Of course, whereas earlier basing and colonial systems involved just naval bases and (mostly coastal) land fortresses and garrisons, more current global powers (U.S. and USSR during the Cold War) have had those naval and land bases, but also airfields, missile bases and a range of technical facilities, relating to not only the sea and land surfaces, but to airspace, outer space and the undersea domains. In that sense, the latter’s presence has become multidimensional and global. The earlier merely regional nature of basing networks is clear enough. Ming China had naval access in the Far East and in the Indian Ocean to East Africa, but nowhere else.39 The Mongols had naval bases just in Korea, China and Vietnam. Venice and Genoa had naval access all over the Mediterranean Sea and also the Black Sea; in the former case also on Europe’s Atlantic littoral in the Spanish Netherlands and England (here one is speaking mostly of entrepôts with naval backing).40 The Ottomans too had a comprehensive basing presence in the Mediterranean Sea, but also in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea.41 Portugal is referred to by some long cycle theorists as the first maritime power to achieve a near-global reach and a “strategic system” for its empire, featuring not only bases, but also forward deployed “station fleets,” overseas building of major warships and major repair and maintenance for them.42 Its access system stretched all around Africa, into the Arabian Peninsula, South Asia (India and Ceylon), Southeast Asia, Taiwan and Japan, and also Brazil. As such,

12

Introduction

there was major access in and around all three major oceans, though it is noteworthy that Portugal’s access was absent in the Mediterranean (Spain’s bailiwick), in North America and in South America other than Brazil. Also noteworthy is that Portugal had naval bases and fortresses or factories on various coastlands, but had little ability, even when working with “local” allies, to project power inwards, inland. As such, its control over some areas such as India and Arabia was tenuous and very dependent on local allies. Spain, by contrast, had a perhaps less global basing system, as measured by representation around the major oceans and in all the relevant continents.43 Its system of access was concentrated in South America and the Caribbean, in the western Mediterranean, and in the Far East (Philippines). It too built major warships overseas for its far-flung fleets (Havana). But, unlike Portugal, and in part because of the lesser resistance offered by more primitive peoples, it was able to penetrate inland and to establish control over large continental areas, i.e., much of South and Central America and Mexico. It made less use of local alliances than Portugal did. But Spain’s basing system was absent from most of East, South and West Africa, the Near East, South Asia and the Far East other than the Philippines and some outposts in Indonesia. The Dutch Empire, centered on and peaking during the seventeenth century, is characterized by Wallerstein and other devotees of international systems theory as the first truly global power (or long-cycle hegemon), based on its (relative to predecessor Portugal) dominant commercial position (Lisbon’s was far weaker and dependent on and subsidiary to Antwerp).44 Some analysts consider Spain to have been an alternative hegemon (to Portugal) in the sixteenth century, or maybe one of two poles of a bipolar system. Far less frequent are questions about Dutch hegemony despite the fact that commercially dominant Amsterdam lost two of three naval wars to Britain in the latter part of the seventeenth century, and was throughout its hegemonic reign highly vulnerable to superior French landpower. Withall, the Dutch inherited most of the Portuguese overseas empire; Brazil (for a time), outposts in West Africa, India, Ceylon, Indonesia, Taiwan (via outright warfare), and like the Portuguese, were not represented on South America’s west coast and the Mediterranean (they established a presence in North America and the Caribbean as an add-on to the skeleton of the Portuguese empire as well as utilizing numerous bases in the Baltic region during this period.) Here one is at least closer to a global network. Britain, before the Napoleonic Wars, acquired what was really the first truly global network of bases, involving numerous points d’appui, but also political control over huge swathes of sub-Saharan Africa, Egypt, much of the Middle East, India, Australia etc. Even so, as indicated by military failures in Afghanistan and Sudan, it had some trouble penetrating far from ocean littorals. But its basing structure included such far-flung outposts as Kingston, the Falklands, Halifax, Esquimalt (British Columbia), Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, Freetown, Simonstown, Zanzibar, Mombasa, Aden, Basra, Trincomalee, Bombay, Singapore, Hong Kong, Auckland and Perth.45 No part of the maritime world

Introduction

13

was left out, though Britain had little military access in continental Europe, much of Eurasia and inland North America. The U.S., as much or more so than the British Empire, has had a truly global basing network, including all around the several ocean littorals. Even at present, in the wake of the post-Cold War contraction of basing assets, the U.S. is represented in such far-flung places as Canada, Iceland, Norway, the U.K., Germany, Italy, Spain, the several Persian Gulf states, Kenya, Djibouti, the several ex-Soviet Central Asian states, the Philippines, Singapore, Japan, Australia, etc. There is no outright colonial or military (excepting the recent cases of Afghanistan and Iraq) control; all access is based on alliances and diplomacy. And, with the aid of tanker refueling, satellites, missiles, etc., these bases allow for a comprehensive coverage in terms of military reach and surveillance. As will elsewhere be examined, the sheer “quantitative” requirements for naval and air bases has been reduced as a result of technological advances – aerial refueling, longer-range aircraft, at-sea refueling for ships, etc. But that trend has gone only so far, still leaving requirements for a global network. Concerning the historical distinction between regional and global basing networks, it is worth pointing out that the Cold War USSR, particularly from the early 1970s, may have had the third most significant near-global basing network in world history, albeit as the weaker side of a bipolar pairing. Mostly a Eurasian landpower that traditionally had not fielded a large navy (recall the history of its trying to acquire warm water ports outside the Black Sea, Baltic Sea, Kola Peninsula, Sea of Okhotsk basing structure), under the aegis of Admiral Gorschkov and paced by extensive arms transfers to acquire overseas bases, the USSR acquired a near-global network of naval and air bases in Cuba, Algeria, Egypt (up to 1972), Syria, South Yemen, Guinea, Congo-Brazzaville, Angola, Mozambique, Somalia (up to 1977), Ethiopia (after 1978), India, Cambodia and Vietnam.46 The Soviet navy compiled impressive “ship-day” statistics in the Mediterranean, Indian Ocean, western Pacific, South Atlantic and even the Caribbean. Absent from this network were the European Atlantic littoral, North America and South America. This does indicate that with the ongoing technological developments related to power projection, that more than one major power at a time could field a global basing network. Whereas Spain’s and Portugal’s basing networks were geographically almost separate and, in a sense, noncompetitive, those of the U.S. and USSR were sometimes cheek-to-jowl, as in the Mediterranean, Indian Ocean area and in the Far East. “Below” the level of global or near-global reach on the part of hegemons or great powers, as measured by basing access or the reach of military activities, some other examples may be noted. During World War II, at the zenith of its expansion, Japan conducted military operations all the way from Attu and Kiska Islands in the Aleutians in the north Pacific, to Sri Lanka and even East Africa on the Indian Ocean, though its basing network extended only to Indonesia and Thailand. German U-boats roamed from Cape Hatteras to the Arctic Sea. In the nineteenth century, each of the European powers and the U.S. had “station fleets” in the Far East and South America, but here symbolic shows of force or

14

Introduction

“presence” were involved, short of actual forward power projection in any meaningful sense. France, long at a level of near-hegemon, had a near-global basing network encompassing the Caribbean, North and West Africa, Reunion, India and later Vietnam. Concerning regional reach, Sweden, Denmark and Russia long tried for points of access around the Baltic Sea, reminiscent of the Ottoman-Spain-Venice triangle earlier in the Mediterranean.

Offshore ship production as a form of power projection Concerning power projection and global reach, it has been noted that major drydocking and repair at bases overseas can act as an important mitigator of the problem of having to move major combat ships back and forth from the home country. Hence, in recent years, U.S. bases at Yokosuka, Japan and Subic Bay, the Philippines, allowed the U.S. Navy to repair and maintain even its largest ships overseas so as not to have to rotate them back and forth across the Pacific Ocean. In earlier times, when the transit of warships (sailing ships) took much longer than at present, some major powers partially resolved this problem by conducting shipbuilding overseas at major bases (there has been no equivalent to this in recent years by the U.S., USSR or other powers, though Nazi Germany did evade restrictions imposed by the Treaty of Versailles by building submarines in Turkey). Portugal built numerous warships in the sixteenth century in India.47 Spain had major shipbuilding capability in Havana at the same time. In both cases, superior wood for building ships seems also to have been a contributing factor. Portugal could use local labor in Goa; Spain needed to bring labor to Cuba or rely on recently arrived colonists. Britain later did major repairs and refittings in Cape Town and Singapore, among other places. Of course, in these earlier cases, there was colonial control of bases, contrasted with present U.S. basing access based entirely on diplomacy and various quid pro quo.

Shifts in the functions of bases To some extent, there have been long-term shifts in the very functions of bases, though that of long-range projection of power seems, in a general sense, always to have been present. One may look at this problem at present, then gauge how it has changed over the centuries. Nowadays, as pertains to the U.S. and other major powers, there are the following functions for bases: 1 2 3 4 5

conventional power projection, i.e., interventions in conventional wars such as the recent one in Iraq; nuclear deterrence, and, potentially, nuclear war-fighting; arms resupply during conflict, also, arms transfers during peaceful times; coercive diplomacy, aka, “gunboat diplomacy;” shows of force or “presence,” such as ship port visits both to friendly and not-so-friendly countries;

Introduction 6

15

force interposition, peacekeeping etc., as for example, current U.S. and others’ force deployments in Bosnia, Macedonia, Hungary and the Sinai Desert.

Note that there are no specifically economic functions for bases, though in a broader, vaguer sense, U.S. bases in the Middle East or in East Africa might be related to the security of oilfields or the protection of SLOCs (sea lines of communication) from the Persian Gulf area to the U.S., Europe and Asia. There is little now that might fall under the heading of “imperial control,” what with empires having vanished, most recently the Soviet empire in Central Asia (some might argue the existence of an “informal” U.S. empire).48 Earlier, the mix of basing functions was different, both broader and narrower. There was no need for nuclear deterrence nor general deterrence in any sense, meaning protection of the homeland from sudden attack. There was no peacekeeping. We have little if any data regarding arms transfers during much earlier periods, though no doubt, weapons were sold or given to the local allies of the Portuguese, Dutch, French etc. But basing was not used specifically for that purpose as, for instance, the Lajes air base in Portugal’s Azores Islands for transiting U.S. arms to Israel in 1973. In the earlier hegemonic cycles, bases were used for conventional power projection, imperial control and, far more directly than is now the case, to protect economic interests and to promote, if not enforce, trade. The Spanish model of imperial control in Latin America has been noted. In Portugal’s case and that of the Netherlands, where there was little colonization and inland penetration, bases were used to control an empire based on points d’appui. Britain’s empire contained elements of both models. But most noteworthy, in the cases of Venice, Genoa, Portugal, the Netherlands, and to some extent Britain, was the commercial function of overseas military bases. Bases were co-located with “factories” or entrepôts, and the military forces associated with these bases had, as a primary purpose, the protection and extension of trade as, for instance, demonstrated by the Portuguese feitoria all along both African coasts and in India and Brazil. In the cases of the Netherlands and Britain, “private” companies such as the Dutch VOA or the British East Indies Company, both intertwined with and protected by their governments, made extensive use of bases in order to pursue trade in far-flung overseas areas. The role of privateers and pirates with national identities and backing further illustrated the close connection of security and economic functions of bases, as pertains to commerce raiding and the non-national nature of “guerre de course.”49 Spain’s use of numerous bases – Cartagena, Nombre de Dios, Havana, the Canary Islands – in connection with its navy’s conveying of the annual silver fleet perfectly illustrates the role of bases in relation to trade. Similar was the use of bases throughout the Mediterranean by Venice’s navy, and armed merchant galleys, to protect its trade with the Levant and also Europe’s Atlantic coast.

16

Introduction

Proliferation of types of bases and/or basing access In earlier times, indeed up to the interwar period after World War I, basing access had almost entirely to do with navies, with ships. There were, of course, no aircraft or “technical” facilities in the modern sense, all of which required the invention of electricity. There were some predecessors to contemporary landforce access, mostly pertaining to small army garrisons (co-located with naval bases and fortresses built to protect them). Even in earlier times, the Venetian, Portuguese and Dutch basing access systems revealed some diversification, subsumed beneath the generality that almost entirely, naval basing was involved. In each of these early systems, what would today be familiar as “navy bases” actually combined, sometimes, the functions of naval bases and entrepôts, i.e., factories and commercial trading stations used for warehousing, transshipments of goods etc.50 In short, there was perhaps a less clear line then between specifically military and specifically economic functions, centuries before the U.S. overseas military presence would inspire charges of “imperialism,” that it was intended to protect corporate assets overseas. Venice and Portugal not only used bases for provisioning, ship repairs and rest and recreation, but also had small fleets more or less permanently stationed overseas (or in Venice’s case, at the other end of the Mediterranean). That anticipated later U.S. use of “station fleets” in the Caribbean and the Far East early in the twentieth century, not to mention the homeporting of fleets during the Cold War in places such as Yokosuka, Bahrain and Naples.51 In the Portuguese case as well, whole fleets of ships were actually constructed overseas, for instance, in India, so that overseas fleets need not have been rotated back and forth between external bases and home ports in Portugal. Even with extensive license-production of weapons systems all over the world by the U.S. in recent years, there has been no overseas or offshore production of capital ships or submarines for use by the U.S. Navy (Germany under the Versailles regime had produced submarines offshore in Turkey and Spain).52 As it happens, and apparently beginning with Venice, the basing structures of the serial hegemonic powers have probably all had landforces associated with naval bases and fortresses that guarded harbors. The extent to which these were permanent garrisons, as opposed to armed colonies, personnel from trading companies, or temporarily stationed personnel from fleets, is a question that needs further research. For instance, the Atlas of British Overseas Expansion avers that “from the mid-eighteenth century Britain began stationing permanent military garrisons in her colonies, at first haphazardly and then routinely, as an adjunct to naval protection.”53 That was seen as a qualitative shift, and these commitments constantly overstretched London’s budget “at a time when Parliament begrudged expenditure on a large standing army in years of European peace.”54 France maintained large garrisons in places such as Algeria, Morocco and Senegal at the same time, as would the U.S. later in Germany, South Korea, Japan (to a lesser degree, Italy and elsewhere) during the Cold War, albeit on the

Introduction

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basis of alliances (hence, limited sovereignty over bases) rather than naked colonial control. But skipping over the centuries, the twentieth century was to see a vast proliferation of new basing requirements driven by the ongoing march of military technological innovation. Before World War I, Britain and Germany had underwater cable systems going to their colonies that required terminals in these overseas possessions, perhaps the first of the C3I (command, control, communications and intelligence) technical facilities. By the interwar period, all of the major powers had external air bases – in the cases of the major colonial powers, mirroring the locations of major naval bases. Britain even had an extensive network of mooring masts for long-range dirigibles. The 1930s saw the extensive proliferation of requirements for communications facilities (also, for communications intercepts) and the beginnings of external access for radar stations. But during the Cold War period, there was a truly staggering explosion of basing functions. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) has developed a typology of forward military presence functions with the following general categories: naval, air, land, missile, command and communications, intelligence, space-related, research and logistics. Each of these categories subsumes a host of others.55 Under air bases, there are forward fighter and bomber bases, tanker bases, maritime patrol aircraft bases, transport staging bases, etc. Under naval, there are surface ship and submarine bases, including a spectrum from homeporting and major drydocking facilities to places merely utilized for port visits. There are separate facilities for strategic surface-tosurface missiles and surface-to-air missiles. Under intelligence are a host of basing functions, for example, nuclear detection, SOSUS (sound surveillance systems to locate submarines), early warning radars, satellite down-links and master control stations, etc. The U.S. also made extensive use of overseas facilities for such purposes as solar flare detection, tracking of others’ satellites, weather forecasting, Voice of America transmission stations etc. The full list was much, much longer. Whereas earlier, basing pertained only to the surface of the ocean, now its functions deal with the land, sea surface, the underseas, the atmosphere and outer space, and increasingly, the links between all of these, so that, for example there are land-based and space-based communications links to submarines patrolling under the seas.

How bases have been acquired – and retained Although there have been significant long-range, historical shifts regarding the acquisition of bases, one fundamental divide has remained valid. That is the divide between bases acquired as the result of outright conquest, i.e., imperial or colonial possessions, and those acquired, either “permanently” or on an ad hoc basis, via diplomacy, alliances, or various forms of related quid pro quo, i.e. economic aid, “rents,” arms transfers. Once beyond this simple distinction, the subject becomes very complex, and with standard practices varying through

18

Introduction

time as international “norms” related to this subject change. And, it must be conceded, there is a problem regarding limited information on this subject, particularly regarding the nature of political arrangements in connection with basing access. Simplest to analyze are those basing arrangements resulting from outright conquest, amounting to imperial or colonial control. Here, the “user” of the base (current terminology sees “hosts” and “users”) need not negotiate over basing access with already pacified “local” rulers, either regarding routine use by naval units or permanent garrisons, or over the use of the bases for military action in the surrounding areas. The Mongol Empire’s bases in Korea, China and Vietnam all resulted from outright conquest. So too all of Spain’s bases in the New World and in the Philippines. The bases associated with the Portuguese and Dutch empires (mostly the same network) were virtually all the result of outright conquest, but both hegemons relied on local alliances, particularly in India (and in East Africa for Portugal) to maintain their points d’appui. The British Empire relied almost entirely on conquest. Venice and Genoa in the Mediterranean had bases mostly on the basis of conquest and political control but also relied heavily on “local” commercial relations to soften the realities of military dominance. The Ottoman Empire relied mostly on conquest, but had various local Muslim satraps to assist the continuation of control over basing access, for instance in North Africa. By the time of the 1960s, as the former British, French, Portuguese, Dutch and Spanish empires had largely withered away (the U.S. had relied heavily on them during the early years of the Cold War), the U.S. and USSR had to rely on alliances and diplomacy to maintain their rival basing structures (the exceptions were those of outright Soviet control over Eastern Europe and Mongolia). Indeed, by around the 1960s, the U.S. had constructed an elaborate structure of multilateral and bilateral alliances, stretching all around the Eurasian rim, that is, around the then Sino-Soviet bloc, stretching from Iceland around to Japan, backed up by the Rio Pact for Latin America, and bilateral alignments with Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Liberia and Ethiopia. That elaborate alliance structure was, most fundamentally, undergirded by arms transfers, or more broadly, various forms of security and economic aid.56 Then and later, key U.S. basing hosts – Spain, Portugal, Turkey, Greece, Oman, Kenya, Thailand, the Philippines – were provided annual tranches of security assistance which, in fact, was a form of “rent” for bases. Meanwhile, beginning in the late 1960s, but accelerating into the 1970s, the USSR developed a large network of client states that provided it basing access: South Yemen, Egypt, Syria, Algeria, Guinea, Angola, Mozambique, Somalia, India, Vietnam, Cambodia and Cuba. In all of these cases, arms transfers, in addition to “ideology,” was the basic underpinning of the provision of basing access. Further research is required to determine the nexus between arms transfers or economic aid, and basing access, in those situations earlier where the latter was not entirely determined by colonial or imperial control. Or, more might be learned about the role of formal alliances in determining such access, particu-

Introduction

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larly within Europe during periods of non-ideological determination of affinity and enmity. Portugal appears to have used the provision of “trinkets,” i.e., various traded goods, to help solidify alliances and hence basing access in various places around Africa (contrariwise, its goods were often considered uninteresting in more advanced India and Southeast Asia). And, as is well known, Britain utilized financial inducements in Europe to underpin its alliances; hence also, basing access provided by alliances. Mostly, intra-European basing access over a long stretch of history appears to have all related to (mostly formal) alliances. These factors amount to a multifaceted measure of power projection.

System structure, polarity, geopolitical theory and bases One area of potential applicability of international relations theory to the study of basing access is that of the role of systems structure, specifically that of various types of polarity, i.e., unipolarity, bipolarity, multipolarity. This is both an important but difficult area of analysis, particularly because of the near tautology involved. The extent of basing access is, or can be, a primary measure of national power, hence feeding into characterizations of polarity, particularly given the role of bases in allowing for long-distance power projection. But, of course, it is great power status that is correlated with, or allows for, the acquisition of and retention of extensive basing networks. These questions are embedded in those endless arguments in the international relations literature over definitions of, and measurements of, national power and hence systems structure. There is a wide area of disagreement, in part the result of poor data before the twentieth century that would allow for comparisons of national power. But even when applied to the twentieth century, where excellent data for GNP (the mostly commonly used bottom-line measurement of national power) are at hand, scholars differ over fundamental characterizations of systems. Hence, the interwar period has variously been characterized as unipolar, bipolar and tripolar.57 The post-World War II Cold War system is usually characterized as bipolar, but some scholars insist upon seeing it as having largely been unipolar in view of the vast GNP gap between the U.S. and USSR, the near even military balance (the USSR had a much higher ratio of military expenditure to GNP throughout) notwithstanding. These debates extend back into time over the entirety of the period we are examining, some 500–600 years. Waltz and others see a constant, unremitting alternation of bipolar and multipolar periods as a hallmark of international relations (hence too the debates over whether either is more or less conducive to stability or instability).58 Of course, the characterizations of bipolar or multipolar (or unipolar) are ultimately rooted in measurements of national power, itself a bone of scholarly contention. As noted, GNP is the mostly commonly used contemporary measurement, but data are largely lacking for earlier periods. The Singer and Small Correlates of War project (COW) uses six equally weighted indices of power capabilities: total population, urban population, iron and steel production,

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Introduction

fuel consumption, military personnel and military expenditures.59 The combination of these presumably correlates largely with GNP figures. Those who use GNP figures, however, also look at ratios of military expenditure to GNP, hence, distinguishing between potential power (just GNP) and actual power or powerin-being, which is perhaps best measured by military expenditure. But, if that is not complicated enough, Ted Hopf, observing systems structure in the sixteenth century, measures the distribution of power, hence defining polarity by four factors: population, soldiers (i.e., men under arms), numbers of ships and government revenue.60 Using those measures, he sees Europe as having been multipolar between 1495 and 1521 at the outset of the modern international system (Austria, England, France, Spain, Ottoman Empire, Venice) and bipolar (Habsburg and Ottoman Empires) from 1521 to 1559. In this analysis as in others, bipolarity tends to be defined by the gap between the second and third most powerful members of the system. But, other analyses provide completely different perspectives. There are those of long cycle theory and “international systems analysis” which, while differing between themselves, nevertheless offer a view of history which sees a succession of unipolar hegemonic phases rooted in maritime and commercial dominance. Long cycle theory, propounded by George Modelski and William Thompson, sees the history of the last 500 years or so as one of successive hegemonic cycles, approximately each of 100 years’ duration, running from Portugal (sixteenth century), the Netherlands (seventeenth century), Great Britain (two phases in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries divided by the period of the Napoleonic wars), and then the U.S. (twentieth century).61 These periods of hegemony are seen as rooted in technological and commercial preeminence, and the number of major capital ships, warships, is the most relevant, fundamental basis for analysis. Meanwhile, in a more Marxist rather than “liberal” analysis, Immanuel Wallerstein and others, focused on unequal development and dependency, see the Dutch phase of commercial preeminence as the first of several leading to the American era.62 Then, finally, there are those such as Jack Levy who, eschewing characterizations of polarity presumably as mere reifications, focus merely on defining which nations (and when) deserve the characterization of “great power.” Seeing the modern great power system as having begun in the late fifteenth century, and – rooted in realist conceptions – focusing primarily on military might, Levy uses a number of general criteria to define great power status. It must play a major role in international politics with respect to security-related issues, must have a high level of military capabilities relative to other states, has continental or global interests rather than local or regional ones, defends its interests more aggressively and with a wider range of instrumentalities, including the frequent threat or use of military force, is perceived by other great powers as relative equals, and is differentiated from others by formal criteria, including identification as a great power by an international conference, congress, organization, or treaty, etc. On these bases, Levy comes up with the following list and periodicity.63

Introduction • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

France England/Great Britain Austrian Hapsburgs/Austria/Austria-Hungary Spain Ottoman Empire United Hapsburgs The Netherlands Sweden Russia/Soviet Union Prussia/Germany/West Germany Italy United States Japan China

21

1495–1975 1495–1975 1495–1519, 1556–1918 1495–1519, 1556–1808 1495–1699 1519–1556 1609–1713 1617–1721 1721–1975 1740–1975 1861–1943 1898–1975 1905–1945 1949–197564

Noteworthy in this list is the absence of Portugal, one of Modelski’s serial hegemons, and also Venice, earlier one of the poles of Hopf’s early sixteenth century multipolar system. Levy’s analysis is largely devoid of data for GNP, government expenditures, military personnel and capital ships, and there is little effort to compare the relative power of the great powers at any given point. Also noteworthy is the simultaneity through most of the 500-odd years covered by Levy’s analysis of several extant great powers, only perhaps conveying the idea of near-constant multipolarity albeit obvious differences in overall power. What then accounts for the differences in perspectives on global power structure over 500 years between, among others, Levy, Hopf, Wallerstein, Modelski and Thompson? To a degree, the answer lies in the facts of asymmetric power, specifically involving the comparison of sea and landpower. Here, one can point to the corpus of traditional geopolitical theory, facing off “landpower theorists” such as Halford Mackinder versus “seapower theorists” such as Alfred T. Mahan, Colin Gray, perhaps also Nicholas Spykman, who have perceived a tendency for hegemonic rivalry between landpowers and seapowers.65 Gray and Mahan have further averred the superiority of the latter, that is, the history of victories in hegemonic competitions by the seapowers, all the way from Athens to Cold War America. This tendency for seapower–landpower rivalry is summed up by Osterud in defining the core of geopolitical theory as follows: Recent usage is still very heterogeneous. “Geopolitics” is sometimes just political inquiry with a spatial dimension, sometimes the label on a normative-strategic doctrine, sometimes an analytical way of thought, sometimes the term for a pretentious “scientific theory” of the development and power of states. The adjective form “geopolitical” perhaps tends to be used in a wider and softer sense than the noun “geopolitics.” Henry Kissinger, for one, fancies the adjective form, but evades the noun for its fascistoid connotations. In the abstract, “geopolitics” traditionally indicates the links and

22

Introduction causal relationships between political power and geographical space; in concrete terms it is often seen as a body of thought carrying specific strategic prescriptions based on the relative importance of landpower and seapower in world history. Early geopolitics also acquired an influential strand from a somewhat different angle. In 1890 the American naval strategist Alfred Mahan voiced the view that sea power was the key to global control, in contrast to Ratzel’s confidence in land territory as the ultimate source of strength. Now the geopolitical Leitmotiv for half a century to come was set; the debate between “the Blue Water school of strategists” and the advocates of vast continental areas on the strategic key to world power. Mahan employed historical evidence to support his view on the priority of naval hegemony, and his prime objective was to call the US to follow Britain’s imperial role: from the Caribbean towards and across the Pacific the US could fulfill her Manifest Destiny far beyond the shores of North America. Now the cards and the maps of the geopolitical tradition were laid out and the Leitmotiven established: the endemic antagonism between BritishAmerican sea power and Russian land power; the inherent dangers of the German “Drang nach Osten’; the strategic importance of different geographical areas; the reshuffle of geo-strategic relationships by technological innovations in warfare and transport.66

In a similar vein, the historian Peter Padfield has developed a somewhat simple three-way typology of seapowers, landpowers and hybrids – France, Spain and Germany all have fit the latter category.67 The hybrids are said usually to have lost hegemonic competitions with seapowers because of the extent they have been forced to divide attention between threats from the land and the sea, whereas an island seapower such as Great Britain or the “offshore” U.S. have had the luxury of concentrating on maritime power alone. How then to relate the history of system structure, international power structures, and the assertions of long cycle and geopolitical theorists to the question of bases? Dominant global basing structures (or earlier, more regional versions in the Mediterranean and perhaps the Baltic) have been associated with hegemonic seapower regimes. In their time, Portugal (to a lesser degree Spain), the Netherlands, Great Britain and the U.S. have had the most extensive basing structures, in all but the latter case based primarily on conquest as opposed to quid pro quo diplomacy. But some of the hybrid powers that have concentrated on landpower but contested for global hegemony – France, Germany, particularly the Soviet Union – have also had extensive, albeit subordinate, basing systems. Hopf’s bipolar system in the early eighteenth century involved primarily two landpowers, only one of which, the Ottoman Empire, had extensive external basing, related to the Mediterranean Sea and Red Sea–Persian Gulf areas. It was during that time that Portugal, not conceded great power status by Levy, elaborated a more global basing network and seapower dominance not backed up by significant landpower on the European continent. Contrariwise, of

Introduction

23

the 14 nations cited by Levy as great powers during the 1495–1975 timeframe, two (Austria Hapsburg/Austria/Austria-Hungary and China) had little if any external basing access or long-range power projection capability, while several others – Ottoman Empire, Sweden and Prussia/Germany/West Germany – were limited in those respects.

System leader lineage In some recent work, William Thompson has written about the various aspects of “system leader lineage,” conceding, however, that “strictly speaking, the previous system leader does not give birth to its successor.”68 Yet, he avers, “there are clear lineage patterns in the technological innovations that provide the foundations for systemic leadership,” “A long history of assistance and resource transfers from the old leader to the new that could be likened to parental nurturing and offspring learning,” and “an even longer history of interaction in the security realm that paints system leaders as a special community in international relations – not unlike a kin or clan relationship linked by some real or imagined bloodline.”69 He even refers loosely to a longitudinal “geopolitical community foundation,” whereby despite the wars between the Portuguese and Dutch, the Portuguese and English, the Dutch and the British, and the British and the Americans (Genoa and Venice are left out here), there are also historical security linkages, primarily among the British, Dutch and Americans. He concludes that “the states that have become system leaders have been unusually prominent suppliers of protection and security assistance before, during, and after the recipients’ periods of systemic leadership.”70 In this same vein, one may point to the lineage aspects of the serial basing networks of the Chinese, Venetian, Portuguese, Dutch, British and U.S. maritime empires. Some of these links are stronger than others, i.e., there are no links between the Chinese and Venetian networks, and none either between Venice and Portugal. Nonetheless, some obvious longitudinal linkages may be cited, on two related levels. First, in the progression from Portugal, the Netherlands, Britain and the U.S., there is a tendency for some naval bases or strongpoints or points d’appui (either precisely or in the vicinity) to be passed along from one empire to the next. In some cases that has resulted from conquests, the results of wars; in other cases, the inheritance has been more peacefully acquired. Second, it is noted that throughout this long history, certain areas, certain littorals, have been the primary foci of basing networks, i.e., the Mediterranean, the entire African littoral from Morocco around the Cape of Good Hope and on to the Bab El Mandeb, the entire arc of the Indian Ocean from southern Africa to Southeast Asia, bracketing the South Asian sub-continent; and the Asian littoral running from present day Vietnam on up to China, Korea and Japan. Access to and control over strongpoints throughout these areas has been a consistent bone of contention throughout most of this past millennium. The relation to Mahan and Spykman, i.e., sea control and control of the rimlands, or (in Saul Cohen’s terminology) “shatterbelts,” is fairly apparent.71

24

Introduction

Interestingly, many of the naval access points that were established by Zheng He’s Chinese navy in the early fifteenth century were those later re-established by Portugal and the Netherlands; indeed, were later contested for by the U.S. and the USSR during the heyday of the Cold War in the 1970s and 1980s: bases near and around the crucial Indonesian Straits, Sri Lanka, India, Hormuz, Aden and Jidda near and around the crucial chokepoints of the Straits of Hormuz and Bab El Mandeb. (The Japanese navy tried to take over many of these same positions in its attempt at supplanting the British Navy in the Indian Ocean in 1942.) The Dutch eventually took over many of the bases established first by Portugal: Colombo and Jaffna (Ceylon), Calicut and Cochin (India), Malacca, Macassar (Indonesia), several places in Southwest Africa, Cape Town, and also Recife and Bahia in Brazil (the latter have not entirely been part of a system lineage, but note the use of air bases in northeast Brazil by the U.S. in ferrying aircraft to the British in the Middle East in 1942).72 Later, Britain was to inherit much of what had been the Portuguese and Dutch naval basing networks in the Indian Ocean/South China Sea area, establishing naval bases at Cape Town (Simonstown), Mauritius, Mombasa, Aden, Muscat, Basra, Bombay (near the former Portuguese base at Diu), Colombo, Singapore (near Malacca) and Hong Kong (near Macao). During the early part of the Cold War, the U.S. used many of the British bases in this area. But as the Cold War progressed, the Soviets made competitive inroads, establishing naval bases or lesser forms of access in Nacala and Lourenco Marques (Mozambique), Berbera and Mogadiscu (Somalia), Aden (South Yemen), Port Sudan (Sudan), Vishakapatnam (India) and Haiphong and Camranh Bay (Vietnam), even as the U.S. maintained access at Cape Town, Mombasa (Kenya), Muscat and Masirah Island (Oman), Bahrain, Colombo, Singapore and Subic Bay (the Philippines), among others. There was a competitive, rival conflict over access points just as there had been in the seventeenth century as the Dutch only gradually took over much of what had been the Portuguese seaborne empire. The entire Mediterranean littoral has been an area of competition over basing access over a long stretch of time, even though neither the Portuguese nor Dutch seaborne empires penetrated into this inland sea area (Portugal had bases at the Atlantic entrance at Tangier and Ceuta). But it is striking to note that in the struggles between Venice and the Ottoman Empire, then later between Britain, France, and Spain, and still later between the U.S. and USSR, many of the same naval strongholds were contested for. Venice, for instance, had important bases on Crete (as did the U.S. throughout most of the Cold War, inheriting the former British base at Souda Bay) and at Ragusa on the Adriatic (later a Soviet point of access) and on the Turkish coast. Britain, at the height of its empire, established important bases first at Gibraltar and Minorca, later at Malta, Crete, Cyprus, Alexandria and Port Suez. During the peak of the Cold War, U.S. main naval and air bases at Rota (Spain), Sigonella (Sicily), La Maddalena (Sardinia), Naples, Piraeus, Souda Bay (Crete) and Izmir (Turkey) were balanced off by Soviet access to Annaba (Algeria), Tripoli (Libya), Alexandria and Port Said

Introduction

25

(Egypt). Tartus and Latakia (Syria), and several ports along Yugoslavia’s Adriatic coast.73 Perhaps further afield, one might note that the rivalry among Britain, France, Spain and the Netherlands (ending up with British dominance after the Napoleonic wars) for points of access in Cuba (and the U.S. fearing further incursions in Guatemala in 1954, the Dominican Republic in 1965, Nicaragua in the early 1980s, and acting accordingly, for good or worse). In short, there has been a form of system leader lineage as pertains to what Saul Cohen refers to as the “world that matters,” some consistently contested over strategic seas, strategic regions and strategic basing points whose importance has been remarkably enduring. It may be worth pointing out that the Pentagon has already begun to sweat over early adumbrations of China’s putative desire for long-range power projection capability in the Indian Ocean area. A few years ago, reports (true or false) of Chinese bargaining for access to some islands offshore of Burma inspired scenarios bearing an eerie resemblance to Zheng He’s westward thrust in the direction of the Persian Gulf, albeit then absent the oil factor.

Technological change, basing requirements and global networks Needless to say, changes in military technology have had a huge impact on basing requirements over the 500 or so years since Venice and then Portugal were (regional to semi-global) hegemons. This is a large subject, but several main preliminary points may be made. First, there is the important impact of the progression, as regards naval propulsion, from galleys to sail to coal to oil and then nuclear naval propulsion. Each phase has had its own requirements regarding bases. During the age of sail, for instance, particularly as applied to Portuguese naval activities all around the Indian Ocean and across the Atlantic to Brazil, the major sailing routes were greatly altered or determined by patterns of wind and currents. Hence, the famous “Carreira da India.” Thus some base locations in West and East Africa derived their importance. The bases were then utilized, variously, for reprovisioning, rest and recreation (all the more important before antidotes for scurvy were developed), and ship repair and rebuilding. Later, during Britain’s reign in the nineteenth century, the development of coal-powered, steam-driven ships led to requirements for networks of coaling stations, whereby coal was stockpiled even on islands in the middle of oceans.74 That became an important diplomatic desideratum, as the Russians learned in trying to move a fleet from Europe to the Sea of Japan in 1905 and having to rely on British coaling stations. Oil-powered ships and the development of fleet oilers to accompany fleets changed this equation again, lessening overall requirements for bases but still in some instances retaining the use of facilities for refueling. The development of aircraft added a whole new dimension to basing requirements, while the need for naval bases was retained. But over the past half century or more, the development of longer range aircraft and ships, plus the

26

Introduction

development of techniques for aerial refueling of planes and at-sea refueling of ships has had the effect of greatly decreasing the number of basing points required by major powers to maintain global access networks. In 1942, the U.S. needed an extensive basing chain (Florida–Cuba–Trinidad–British Guyana– Recife–Takoradi–Kano–Khartoum) to ferry aircraft and other supplies to beleaguered British forces in the Middle East. In 1973, the U.S. was able to resupply Israel with arms using just one transit point in the Azores. In 1991, the U.S. B-52 bombers, with the aid of tankers, conducted bombing raids over Iraq all the way from a base in Louisiana. Further, the number of aircraft and ships in the inventories of all major nations has declined (more combat power per ship and plane, fewer of each), and this too has militated toward lesser basing requirements in a quantitative sense. In the modern world, of course, the development of satellites and the advent of an array of new communications and information technologies has spawned numerous new basing requirements: satellite down-links, radars for early warning, signals intelligence (SIGINT), satellite-tracking, nuclear detection etc. This has meant a massive long-run trend, whereby major powers require fewer naval and air bases, but a proliferated array of global networks for various “technical functions.”

Rival basing networks and “command of the sea” There is the familiar albeit arguable Mahanian dictum about “command of the sea” that posits a tendency for maritime hegemons to maintain complete mastery of the high seas. That mastery is said to be based at any time on the hegemon’s main battle fleet’s ability to defeat a rival’s main battle fleet, rather a Clausewitzian notion applied to naval warfare. For a long time, in a related vein, Britain maintained a policy of fielding a navy equal at least to the two next most powerful navies, a policy only reluctantly abandoned after World War I in the face of the growth of the U.S. Navy. But even though the serial hegemons have maintained “command of the sea” in Mahan’s terms, and even though there has been a tendency for each hegemon to inherit the previous one’s global basing network, basing access has never been the exclusive preserve of one power. Rather, there have been asymmetries in varying degrees; and also constant competition for basing access in periods of peace as well as war. At the conclusion of hegemonic wars, large shifts in the balance of basing access have occurred, but not always to the point of total exclusion of losers from such access. There have also been some rivalries – U.S.–USSR during the Cold War, Portugal–Spain in the 1500s – when more than one maritime power has been availed of significant levels of access on a global or quasi-global basis. The history is complex and not so easily reduced to simple generalizations.

Introduction

27

Bases, hegemonic transitions, maritime power and “imperial pick-off” A discussion of Mahanian undivided sea control (perhaps arguable at the extremes) in relation to long cycle hegemons and great power rivalries leads directly to the question of what role bases and rivalry over basing access has played in hegemonic transitions. For the Mongols and Ming China external basing access was somewhat irrelevant to their eventual declines, the former imploding due to defeats on the ground in Central Asia, the Middle East and China, the latter withdrawing voluntarily from its overseas naval ventures. For the Mediterranean and its galley warfare, bases were a crucial element of what was being fought over, as witness the ebbs and flows of Venetian, Ottoman and Spanish control of access points in that big inland sea. But it was only with the progression of the serial European seaborne empires based on sailing ship fleets – Portugal, Spain, the Netherlands, Britain and France – that the issue of external basing networks becomes intertwined with hegemonic wars and hegemonic successions. The circumstances varied considerably. Portugal and Spain’s maritime empires, particularly the former, were created, relatively speaking, in a power vacuum, with little opposition from a preceding maritime hegemon. By the time of Lisbon’s ascendance, Ming China had withdrawn from the Indian Ocean. There was some naval competition with the Ottomans and their allies in India, the Arabian Sea and Red Sea that, to a degree, involved struggles over Hormuz, Aden and Jidda, with the Ottomans having the advantage of land logistics and interior lines. But the latter, fighting mostly with galleys hugging the coasts, were no match for the Portuguese in the open sea. The Netherlands gradually replaced Portugal as a naval power, over decades taking over Portuguese positions in Brazil (temporarily), India, the East Indies, the Far East and both coasts of Africa. It was the result of superior naval and commercial power, a stronger economic base. There was no climactic hegemonic war, rather, a long attrition struggle, during which a quasi-global basing network gradually changed hands. The process was largely divorced from diplomacy and politics within Europe. Afterwards, after a long maritime struggle with Great Britain, mostly centered on the English Channel and the English and Dutch coastal waters in the second half of the seventeenth century, England prevailed. But it took over from Dutch influence in Africa and India mostly on a peaceful basis and after the accession of a Dutch line to the British crown. Britain and France fought over maritime predominance throughout the eighteenth century and on up to the conclusion of the Napoleonic wars in 1815. During that period, the two contending powers were involved in at least six major wars, the last three of which involved extensive fighting overseas. Throughout, Britain’s predominant seapower was faced off against France’s continental landpower, with Britain utilizing a shifting pattern of alliances to maintain a balance on land with Europe, all the way from Blenheim to Waterloo.

28

Introduction

During this period Britain perfected the practice of imperial “pick-off” (an earlier version of what during the Cold War, in hypothetical terms, came to be known as “horizontal escalation”), involving the use of maritime superiority to capture French overseas possessions and bases, many or most of which positions had to be returned to France after wars in exchange for postwar territorial concessions in Europe. Despite that, the endings of these wars did not see a complete return to the prewar status quo ante, so that Britain gradually expanded its overseas empire at France’s expense between 1714 and 1815 – the British takeover of North America and India were central to this picture. In the process, Britain acquired an unrivalled overseas basing network, not so much a function of hegemonic transition but rather of hegemonic extension and consolidation based on naval power. In 1914, at the outset of World War I, Britain again successfully executed a strategy of “imperial pick-off” against Germany, severing the latter’s underseas cable communications network, colonies and bases in Togo, Namibia, Cameroon and in the Southwest Pacific region. Those possessions were permanently lost to Germany. At the outset of World War II, the combined, superior U.S. and British naval power allowed for preemptive capture of important basing hubs in Ireland and Denmark, and in the Azores Islands, belonging respectively to Germancontrolled Denmark and neutral but fascist-leaning Portugal. After World War II, in another example of “imperial pick-off,” the U.S. maintained control of important former Japanese bases, albeit under a U.N. trusteeship, in the Marianas, Marshalls, Carolines and Belau island groups. During the latter part of the Cold War, after the USSR had become a serious maritime rival to the U.S., defense planners on both sides, looking forward to a possible “protracted conventional phase” of an hypothesized World War III, looked to the possibility of “picking off” the other side’s overseas basing assets. That would have been part of a strategy for tilting the balance of nuclear power one way or the other (the U.S. for instance, relied heavily on overseas bomber bases and access to intelligence facilities in relation to satellites). Presumably, superior U.S. naval power would have rendered vulnerable external Soviet positions in Cuba, Vietnam, South Yemen, etc., but we shall never know.

2

The Mongols and the Mings Naval basing during an earlier age of sail

Before the advent of the serial European long-cycle hegemonic basing systems (beginning with Portugal in the sixteenth century), at least two Asia-centered empires featured some basing access related to naval power, perhaps often unremarked upon because of the Eurocentric nature of most Western international relations theory. In both of these cases – the Mongol Empire and Ming China – we are dealing with largely contiguous land empires whose naval power was marginal to their overall imperial policies. And, in both cases, there was no rival offshore seapower equivalent to the role played by Britain over several centuries, so that there was no major problem regarding trade-offs between sea and landpower, as would later be the case for the (in Padfield’s terminology) European “hybrids” such as France, Germany and the USSR. Japan, geographically in a situation similar to the later U.K.,1 lying offshore a great continent from which it was separated only by narrow straits, did not field significant naval power until the late nineteenth century, and did not exert itself to influence politics on “the continent.” So here, Mahan and others to the contrary, fundamentally landpowers could also dominate the seas, albeit in a limited way. The Mongol Empire, peaking in the thirteenth century, was almost certainly the most extensive “formal” empire in the history of mankind (as distinguished from what now is defined as an “informal” U.S. global empire featuring bases derived from diplomacy, cultural “soft power,” etc.). At its peak, this contiguous empire stretched from Korea and Siberia, included all of China and much of Southeast Asia, all the way to Central Europe, and to the Sinai Peninsula, including what is now Iran and much of the Arab world.2 In a way, with reference to classical geopolitical theory, the Mongol Empire fit what James Fairgrieve much later saw as an alternative (to Eastern Europe) landpower heartland centered more on the eastern side of the Eurasian continent.3 In the latter part of the thirteenth century, at the height of its imperial power, the Mongol Empire under Kublai Khan, in attempting to extend its imperium to Japan and Southeast Asia, and in developing significant naval power, utilized bases respectively in Korea and along the southern coast of China.4 Both in 1274 and 1281, the port of Masan in southern Korea was used as a jumping off point for failed invasions of Japan involving in the latter case 150,000 men and 800 ships.5 In both the 1274 and 1281 efforts, the offshore

30

The Mongols and the Mings

islands of Tsushima and Iki were used as basing points for invasion. In 1274, Mongol forces landed near Hakata Bay, ravaged areas of Kyushu, but had to withdraw. In 1281, another attack on Hakata Bay was beaten off, and then another fleet set to invade at Karatsu was destroyed by the famous “divine wind” (a typhoon), amounting to the first war lost by the Mongol Empire. An earlier established base at Hangchow Bay (1277), 900 miles to the south, was used as an assembly point for a Chinese fleet sent to Masan as part of the invasion fleet – the Southern Sung Navy defeated at Yaichen Island near Canton in 1279 had been incorporated into the Mongol navy.6 Canton, captured by the Mongols in 1279, was used as a forward base for seaborne operations in Vietnam and the Champa Empire in what is now northern Vietnam, from 1283 to 1288.7 The Mongols were defeated there in 1285, then succeeded in 1288, when Vietnam and Champa submitted as vassals and agreed to pay tribute. Using Annam (Vietnam) as a forward base, in 1292 the Mongols sent a force of 1000 ships to strike Java in Indonesia. Hence had the Mongols, as a “hybrid” state in Padfield’s terms, become a significant naval power, one without a major maritime power rival after the defeat of the Southern Sung in 1279. More than a century later, and after the retreat of the Mongols, China’s Second Ming Emperor made a bid for seapower, maritime dominance, and an extended network of basing access all across the Indian Ocean. This was based at first on a very extensive shipbuilding program beginning in 1403 and extending some 16 years to result in the construction of more than 2000 large, seagoing vessels. At this time, the Chinese Emperor called Yongle talked openly of building a navy that would give China “world supremacy,” and as part of that strategy, enable China to counter the influence of the Turkic Tamerlane, who was trying to extend his influence in the Muslim world. This resulted in the famous expeditions of the so-called “eunuch admiral,” Zheng He, born of a Muslim family. Zheng He’s navy made some seven major expeditions to the Indian Ocean area. And they were large expeditions!8 The first, underway in 1405, comprised 27,000 men aboard some 317 ships. These expeditions, using the Chinese port of Fuzhou and the Vietnamese base at Qui Non as jumping off points, reached eastward to Surabaya in Java, and Palembang in Sumatra, and westward via the Malacca Straits to Colombo (Sri Lanka), Calicut (India), Hormuz, Aden and Jidda (Arabian Peninsula), Mogadiscu (Somalia) and Malindi (East Africa). Zheng He established suzerainty over Malacca (Sumatra), which then became a jumping off point for expeditions into the Indian Ocean. Battles were fought at Colombo, and there were unfriendly receptions in East Africa. Mostly, these expeditions did not result in permanent military presences nor bases, save in the case of Malacca. The extent or distance of power projections is, however, remarkable. Noteworthy is the extent to which destinations of the Chinese expeditions (Malindi, Aden, Hormuz, Calicut, Malacca) would in the subsequent century become the hubs of the Portuguese seaborne empire whose expeditions would

The Mongols and the Mings

31

come from the opposite direction (here, perhaps another example of “system leader lineage”).9 These Chinese expeditions were, indeed, contemporaneous with the expansion of Venetian and Genoese maritime power in the Mediterranean, and the difference in scope is indicative of the superiority of Asian militaries relative to the West up to that point. But at the end of Zheng He’s expeditions, according to Swanson, “a version of neo-Confucianism developed that was markedly idealistic and influenced by Buddhism, resulting in a loss of interest in geomancy and maritime expansion.”10 China went back to “continentalist” policies. Its maritime withdrawal was due to domestic factors and not to a rising threat from another naval power. The Portuguese navy arrived almost a century later. A perhaps interesting point emerges here with respect to “system leader lineage,” whereby some basing networks, wholly or partially, are passed from one hegemon to another, as from Portugal to the Netherlands, the latter to Great Britain, and then on to the U.S., suggesting a strong continuity in the importance of certain locations or basing points such as Aden, Hormuz, Malacca/Singapore etc. But in Thompson’s work on system lineage leadership, the baton passes through a succession of Western maritime hegemons. In this earlier history of Mongol and Ming China maritime dominance in Asia, there were hints of a similar syndrome, interrupted by the Portuguese takeover of the Indian Ocean and control over the Indonesian Straits. It is a reminder that with now rising China, things might revert to a previous pattern of system lineage leadership, perhaps foreshadowed by initial Chinese access to some island bases in Burma. Noteworthy too in relation to the basing competitions in the Mediterranean and in relation to the race for global empire, the two Asian naval powers had no significant maritime rivals (to be discussed later). Mostly, they acquired access unopposed and dominated weaker vassal states devoid of naval power.

3

The Mediterranean basing competition and galley warfare Venice, Genoa, Ottoman Empire, Spain, c.1200–1600

Telescoping both the Mongol/Ming China maritime expansion and basing acquisitions between about 1270 and 1410 in Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean and Portugal’s elaboration of a closer-to-global basing network in the sixteenth century, was the some four-century long (1200–1600) battle for colonies, bases, commercial access and maritime supremacy in the Mediterranean involving first Venice and Genoa, then the Ottoman Empire and Spain, amounting at times to a complex quadripolar struggle over access and influence which, to a lesser degree, involved France as well. Venice, indeed, largely dominated the Mediterranean for more than two centuries to the extent it is sometimes mentioned in “long cycle”1 treatises as an early prototype maritime hegemon, an early example of the interplay between commercial and maritime dominance, albeit its small size and incapacity to field large armies and to dominate more than a small corner of Europe. And, surely, neither Venice, Genoa nor the Ottoman Empire was a global maritime power, rather, regional ones (Spain’s ventures in the Mediterranean were somewhat of a sideshow to its vast expansion of colonies and bases in the western hemisphere and Asia). But, Venice’s reach did go beyond the Mediterranean Sea, what with navy bases around the Black Sea, and a reach for its galley fleets extending to England and the Spanish Netherlands in Bruges and Antwerp (Belgium).2 The Ottoman Empire, while extending its basing access network westward in the Mediterranean almost to the Straits of Gibraltar, also had maritime outlets in the Red Sea/Persian Gulf area, making it a doublewindow maritime power analogous to later France with its windows on the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts.3 The competition for access in the Mediterranean involved a shifting of tides between rival states. Their basing access often overlapped, geographically speaking. Aside perhaps from the early period of Venetian ascendance, there was no fully unipolar maritime dominance. Nor was there an analogy to the separate and coexisting Portuguese and Spanish empires, which were clearly demarcated. There was incessant warfare and changing of control over basing points, hence, no analogy to the Cold War, with its slowly shifting tides of influence and access, but without actual fighting. The best analogy would be to the later British–French–Dutch–Spanish competition over naval access in the

The basing competition and galley warfare

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Caribbean, Africa and in South and Southeast Asia, albeit on a much smaller geographical scale. This was the period of galley fleets and warfare; hence, short radii of naval operations, longer times for naval movements, more challenging logistical problems in provisioning fleets and sustaining external garrisons.4 In a way, it was a microcosm of future European maritime rivalries. The expansion of the Venetian maritime and commercial empire, held together by an elaborate string of naval bases, points d’appui and control of commercial quarters of major entrepôts, began at the outset of the thirteenth century (note this was about 70 or 80 years before Mongol maritime expansion in the Far East). The expansion took place rather rapidly, beginning early on in the first decade of the thirteenth century in Corfu, Candia (Crete), Rhodes, Modon, Coron and Negroponte in Greece, Famagusta in Cyprus and Constantinople (well more than two centuries before its capture by the Ottomans). Later in the thirteenth century, Venice’s reach would be extended to Soldaia (Romania), Tana (Ukraine) and Trebizond (Turkey) on the Black Sea; a bit later to Ragusa (Yugoslavia) on the Adriatic Sea,5 to Lajazzo (Turkey) in the eastern Mediterranean, Acre (Israel), Tyre (Lebanon), Moron (Greece); still later in the fourteenth century to Tenedos (Greece), Scutari (Yugoslavia), Beirut (Lebanon), Treviso (Yugoslavia), Smyrna (Turkey), Pola (Yugoslavia), Ibiza (Spain), and others. In the first-named group were major bases for galley fleets used to intimidate other navies and to protect commerce. Genoa’s basing network, smaller than that of Venice, was elaborated almost 50 years later, beginning around 1250. Its major points of access, entrepôts and commercial control (also often small colonies devoted to commerce) were in Acre and Tyre, Chios (Greece), Cyprus, Trebizond (Turkey), Tana (Ukraine), Porto Longo (Greece), Dalmatia, Rhodes and Famagusta.6 Constantinople’s harbor was shared with Venice; so too access to Pera, Trebizond and Tana, at least during periods of peace between the two Italian city-state maritime powers. The Mediterranean was mostly a Venetian and Genoese lake for 200 years or more in the thirteenth, fourteenth and part of the fifteenth centuries. Also noteworthy during the period of Venetian, and then Genoese, maritime expansion was the close relationship between naval power and competition, and commercial rivalry. The latter was what it was all about: trade routes, entrepôts, carrying trade, etc. This maritime and commercial competition was also related to a degree of colonization, hence, portending the later Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and British empires, but on a much small scale. In Constantinople, Acre, Tyre, Lajazzo, etc., the main Venetian and Genoese bases and entrepôts, small commercial colonies, really foreign enclaves, were set up on a long-term basis. In some of these ports around the eastern Mediterranean, Aegean and Black seas, Venetian and Genoese colonies, at least during peaceful interludes, coexisted side-by-side in a kind of peaceful competition. Both assisted the Crusaders (Pisa was also involved in this commercial and maritime competition, for instance, in Romania). However well before the Ottoman Empire and Spain became major factors in the Mediterranean competition for bases, territories and commercial access,

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Venice and Genoa periodically went to war, so that their competition was a deadly one. There were, actually, five major wars between the two city-state maritime powers: 1258–1270, 1295–1299, 1350–1355, 1378–1381 and in 1431.7 This maritime rivalry extended over some 175 years, and as such, might be viewed as similar to the equally very lengthy maritime competition between England and France in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The situation in which Venice and Genoa, in between fighting, often shared basing points and entrepôts was repeated by England, the Netherlands, and France in India a few centuries later. The latter colonial powers, with mixed commercial and territorial motives, also had a long history of wars “beyond the line,” but with colonies and bases cheek by jowl, and with intermittent fighting. There is a marked contrast here with the Cold War pattern of rival basing networks, few if any colonies, minimal commercial rivalry and no warfare. Trade routes to China and India were also bound up in the competition for bases in the eastern Mediterranean and Black Sea areas between Venice and Genoa. One route to China went through Constantinople and across the Black Sea to the Crimea (Soldaia, Kaffa),8 on to Tana in the north Caucasus, and then on through territories controlled by the Mongols towards China. Another went from Constantinople to Trebizond on Turkey’s Black Sea coast9 then to Tabriz in Persia, and then either to Ormuz and on to India or to China via Bukhara. Still another route went to Cyprus and then to Lajazzo (near modern-day Alexandretta) and hence to Tabriz and on to India or China. More southerly routes went through Alexandria, Cairo, on to Jidda, and to Aden, and then India. Maritime competition between Venice and Genoa in the Mediterranean and Black Sea concerned all of these alternative trade routes. To begin with, Venice had to establish control of its own bailiwick in the Adriatic Sea. Hence, according to Lane: In medieval Europe, no navy exercised a cut-and-dried command over any extended body of water, but the Venetians very nearly did so in the Adriatic. Their patrols on the rivers and off the mouths of the rivers were reinforced as need be by fleets of galleys strong enough and fast enough to suppress all opposition. The boost given Venetian naval power by the conquest of Constantinople made the Venetians feel more responsible for the suppression of piracy, especially in the Adriatic. Every year, not only in time of war but as a routine measure, they outfitted a fleet of galleys devoted to making the seas safe. Naturally it accompanied the merchant ships going to Apulia and Romania and used the Dalmatian cities, especially Ragusa, as subordinate bases. A separate squadron for the protection of commerce in the Gulf was felt necessary in 1330. Frequently thereafter it was patrolled by a Captain of the Gulf, while the main war fleet was operating in the Aegean or Beyond-the-Sea.10 Control over the Mediterranean was, however, not possible. There was not a possibility of establishing what later would be recognized as a “Mahanian”

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command of the sea, requiring the naval hegemon to have the ability to sweep the enemy from the seas, as later Portugal, the Netherlands, Great Britain and the U.S. were able for the most part to do. Further, according to Lane: Neither Venice nor any of her rivals was able to sweep the enemy from the seas. They lacked the technical means of setting up effective blockades. Trade moved, or could move, by short hops through many alternative routes. Vessels were not built and rigged so that they could patrol off a port indefinitely in variable weather to the extent that the British did at the end of the eighteenth century. War fleets had even more difficulty finding an enemy who wished to avoid battle than Lord Nelson had when he crossed the Atlantic twice in search of Napoleon’s fleet. And even after an overwhelming victory, the winner was unable to blockade effectively the enemy city. He could not prevent the defeated from sending out a new fleet, even if only a very small one, for a quick raid on an exposed point or an attack on merchant shipping.11 The Venetian basing system outside the Adriatic was gradually developed beginning in the early thirteenth century. The most important bases were those related to two streams of trade; one to “Romania” (the Greek Peninsula, Aegean Islands, neighboring land that had been part of the Byzantine Empire); the other referred to as “Beyond-the-Sea” (Cyprus, Syria and Palestine). The main base for at least the first of these streams was Constantinople, where a large Venetian colony developed in the thirteenth century. There were other important colonies/bases related to trade: Corinth, which was a center of trade for the Peloponnesus;12 and Solaia, on the eastern coast of the Crimea from which grain, salt, fish, furs and slaves were exported to Constantinople. On the critical route between Venice and Constantinople, the main subsidiary bases were Ragusa (Yugoslavia) on the Adriatic, Modon and Coron in southern Greece, and Negroponte on the Greek Aegean coast. Negroponte was the main base in the Aegean between Crete and Constantinople. Modon and Coron, near the southern tip of Morea, became known as the “two eyes of the Republic,” where all ships returning from the Levant were ordered to stop and give news of convoys and pirates.13 Ragusa on the Adriatic was a loyal dependency and a base for fleets operating out of the end of the Adriatic. In the second main trade route, after rounding the southernmost part of Greece, convoys went to Candia on Crete, perhaps to Rhodes, and on to Cyprus and then to St. Jean d’Acre north of Haifa, where a road then led to Safed and Damascus (here was the remnant of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem after the fall of Jerusalem itself). Both Acre and nearby Tyre, as with the cases of Constantinople and Corinth, had large Venetian colonies with a considerable industrial and commercial infrastructure. One reason, however, that it was difficult for a galley-based fleet then to achieve complete control of the sea was the slow speed of power projection. For example, it took almost two months for a galley fleet to move from Venice to

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Constantinople.14 And there was a seasonal nature to this; as winter storms had to be avoided. Typically, Venetian “caravans” (commercial fleets accompanied by galley warships) left in the spring and returned in the fall, or left in August, wintered in the eastern Mediterranean, and returned in the spring. Hence, there was a very slow reaction time for military actions in an era of slow long-distance communications. Almost all of the main base areas were also important producers of commodities that Venice developed as part of its carrying trade. Crete was an important producer of grain, wine, oil and fruits. From Romania came raw silk, alum, wax, honey, cotton and wine. As would still later be the case for the Portuguese and Dutch empires, bases and entrepôts were nearly inseparable and naval power was closely related to commercial competition (and colonization) in an era when commerce raiding was a normal part of conflict between nations and empires. For the first half of the thirteenth century, Venice maintained a near unipolar maritime dominance in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, in the period of the Crusaders, the faded Byzantine Empire, Arab might in the core Middle Fast, and a bit before the zenith of the burgeoning Mongol Empire. Europe itself was in its Dark Age, politically fragmented, before the development of more centralized monarchies in France and Spain, much less Germany. In the middle of the thirteenth century, Genoa became a rival naval power to Venice, and for more than a century, in a context of complex diplomacy among multiple political centers, there was a form of maritime bipolarity in the Mediterranean/ Black Sea region. Central to this struggle, highlighted by five wars punctuating long periods of peace, was the contest over basing access and colonies. This was despite the fact that both Venice and Genoa were Guelf (as opposed to Ghibelline), that is, siding with the Pope rather than the Holy Roman Emperor. By the mid-thirteenth century, the Genoese were as well entrenched as the Venetians in Acre and Tyre, and more active in Syria, all due to their assistance to the Crusaders. The first war between Venice and Genoa was caused by a series of incidents in Acre. It was won by Venice, which made good use of Crete as a forward base of operation. Genoa made extensive use of Salonika as a base during this war,15 which saw Venetian victories in main fleet engagements at Acre in 1258, at Sittepozzi in 1263 and at Trapani in 1266. It also made use of Malta for attacking Venetian convoys in the lower Adriatic and Aegean seas. Despite losing the first naval war to Venice, Genoa greatly increased its power in the latter part of the thirteenth century. It decisively defeated Pisa in 1284, leading to complete naval dominance of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Genoa maintained a large presence at Pena in the Constantinople harbor. Its base at Kaffa on the northern shore of the Black Sea enabled penetration into the Crimea and up the rivers of southern Russia, i.e., the Don and Dnieper. Other Genoese bases and commercial centers were at Chios (famed for mastic) and Focea (near modern Izmir), known for its aluminum mines. Around 1291, the Mamluks wiped out the last remnants of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, as Acre, Tyre and Tripoli fell to the Muslims. After that, Lajazzo became the main Venetian base and entrepôt in Asia Minor.16

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In the second Venice–Genoa war in the 1290s, Venice first captured and destroyed Genoese possessions in Cyprus. But Genoa, operating out of Pena, completely defeated the Venetians off Lajazzo. Venetian fleets attacked Genoese strongholds at Pera, Focea and Kaffa. Genoa also won a large naval battle in the Adriatic off the coast of Dalmatia, near the island of Curzola. Later, Venice attacked Genoa itself, utilizing a nearby base in Monaco. The war ended in 1299, essentially as a stalemate, further enmeshed in Guelph vs. Ghibelline rivalries juxtaposed to those between city-states, particularly involving internecine fighting among the Genoans.17 A third war between Venice and Genoa occurred in the 1320s. This war started over disagreements over the use of Tana by both sides, which were driven out by the Golden Horde. In 1328, Venice sent a big fleet into the Black Sea, interrupting trade between Kaffa and Pera. Otherwise, there were extensive naval battles and commerce raiding throughout the eastern Mediterranean, Aegean and Black seas. Venice (allied with the Catalans) suffered a big defeat at Porto Longo, Genoa a defeat at Alghero. Venice made extensive use of its base on Crete for operations toward Constantinople. This was an example of a war between rival major naval powers whose bases were interspersed within the same general area (what might have been if the U.S. and USSR had ever engaged in a naval war). Venice suffered some defeats in the mid-fourteenth century that whittled away at its basing structure. It was pushed out of Dalmatia by the King of Hungary, though its fleet still ruled the Adriatic. Genoa took over the Cyprus port of Famagusta. Venice’s naval reach also extended to Europe’s Atlantic coast. Galley fleets went back and forth to Bruges.18 Despite the loss of Famagusta to Genoa, Venetian fleets still went directly to Beirut and Alexandria; and hence, Venice controlled the spice route to India via Egypt and Syria, but Genoa also competed vigorously for trade in the Levant. Venice and Genoa bitterly contested trade and maritime dominance to and in and around the Black Sea. They shared access to Constantinople. They contested over the island of Tenedos south of the Turkish Straits; Venetian occupation and fortification of Tenedos led to war. In the 1420s and 1430s, there was further conflict between Venice and Genoa, in the context of a then growing threat from the Ottoman Empire. In 1424, Venice sent a fleet to Salonika, but it was later lost.19 (At this juncture, Venice was bogged down in wars on the Italian Peninsula, mostly versus Milan.) In 1431, Venice unsuccessfully attacked Chios, Genoa’s main base in the Aegean. In 1453, the Turks captured Constantinople and then, feeling a Turkish threat to Italy, in the Peace of Lodi in 1454, an alliance was formed of Venice, Genoa, Naples, the Papal State and Milan. Venice was then still the strongest state in Italy and still a formidable naval power in the Adriatic, Aegean and eastern Mediterranean. But now, a larger and more formidable foe loomed. And so ended what was a some 200-year contest for basing access, naval supremacy and commercial dominance between Venice and Genoa. Perhaps only the later hegemonic naval rivalry between Britain and France lasted so long.

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In the late fifteenth century, and encouraged by the Pope, the Italian citystates were mostly allied together against the Ottomans, though some at various times were allied with them, so there were continuing tensions among the Italian states. And gradually, the Turks expanded, first by land in Albania. In 1470, the Ottomans took Negroponte, long a Venetian main base. And, Turkish cavalry raided Dalmatia and Frioli, not far from Venice. In 1479, Venice admitted defeat in a 16-year war, conceding Negroponte and some other Aegean islands, and also the Albanian fortress of Scutari. Shortly thereafter, the Turks took Otranto on the Italian heel. On the other hand, Venice was able to establish greater control over Cyprus. But by this juncture, Venetian naval power had passed its zenith, even as the city-state’s influence in Italy itself was maintained. This zenith of Venetian power coincided with the onset of a whole new era of power politics in Europe. In 1494, France invaded Italy to back up its claim on the Kingdom of Naples. Venice organized a counter-coalition involving some Italian states, the German emperor and the King of Spain. England, meanwhile, was a counterbalance to France. Amidst all this, Venice tried to keep a dominant position in Italy and to maintain naval dominance in the Mediterranean. In a complicated set of maneuvers, Venice occupied key cities in Apulia in 1495, helped to drive the French out of Naples, persuaded cities such as Otranto and Brindisi to help man Venetian fleets, supported Pisa against Florence, then allied with the new French king. But, Venice was overstretched in trying to be both a land- and seapower. And at this point, the Ottoman Empire launched a sustained offensive against the Venetian maritime empire.20 In 1479, a big Ottoman fleet went into the Ionian Sea, capturing the main Venetian strongholds in Greece, including Modon and Coron, the “two eyes of the Republic,” which Venice had controlled since 1204, for almost 300 years. Dalmatia and Frioli were raided. In 1503, Venice made peace by surrendering numerous strongpoints in Greece and Albania, adding to those lost in 1479 (Samothrace, Imbros, Lembros). But at this time, closer to home, it acquired Trieste. But in 1509, the League of Cambrai (France, the German emperor, the Pope, the King of Hungary, the Duke of Savoy, the King of Spain), wanting to repel the Turks, also threatened to dismember the Venetian empire. Venice, via alliance diplomacy, eventually regained all of its mainland territories after a seven-year war, after the Pope and the King of Spain changed sides and then later Venice allied with France. But Venice was losing its long-held maritime predominance. The Ottomans conquered Syria and Egypt in 1517, then Rhodes in 1522.21 Then, under the leadership of the red-bearded Khaireddin, the Ottomans took over the Barbary coast including Algiers by 1529. By that time, the Ottoman Empire had acquired strongholds all around the Mediterranean, from Greece and Albania, to Egypt (Suez) and Syria, and to Algeria. Cyprus would be added much later in 1591. So, in the period between the capture of Constantinople in 1453 and the important base at Negroponte in 1470, up to 1529, the Turks became a dominant naval power in the Mediterranean, reducing Venice to a second class seapower after a 300-year plus reign as maritime hegemon.

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The Ottoman Empire was actually a “two-sea” naval power, as France later would be in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It had major bases at Jidda on the Red Sea and at Aden, from around 1516, and another sometime later at Basra at the head of the Persian Gulf. From these bases it was to contest, however unsuccessfully, Portuguese naval expansion in the Indian Ocean. During the time the Ottoman Empire was expanding its basing network in the Mediterranean in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries (mostly at the expense of Venice, and with Genoa’s naval power and its bases by then nearly having evaporated), Spain, from the other end of the Mediterranean, was beginning to expand its basing network in the “Middle Sea.” Indeed, this occurred simultaneously with Spain’s development of an empire in the western hemisphere centered on the Caribbean and the South American littoral on the Pacific Coast (Havana and Kingston, for instance, became Spanish outposts in 1511 and 1509, respectively), and also at the same time as Portuguese expansion into the Indian Ocean region. Spain was, of course, approaching the apogee of its hegemonic power which, arguably, was reached later in the sixteenth century up to the defeat of the Armada by Britain in 1588. Referring to Spain in the Mediterranean during the early sixteenth century, Lane states that (relative to the Ottoman Empire) “only through Spanish and Habsburg leadership was a naval power of possibly countervailing strength developed in those same decades.” Spain during this period actually used a lot of Italian ships and seamen, particularly after it acquired Sicily. It captured Naples in 1501–1503 and took the Apulian ports from Venice. In 1505 too, Spain’s campaign along the North African coast netted the important strongholds of Mers El Kebir (much later a French base), Oran, Mostaganem, Tenes, Bougie and Algiers. In 1519, the Hapsburg who was to become Emperor Charles V inherited the Spanish throne, so he combined the power of Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, and a claim on Milan and other resources in Germany and the Netherlands. In 1535 his forces attacked Tunis (Galeta) with a huge fleet and also took Malta, which was given to the Knights of St. John, whom the Turks had driven out of Rhodes.22 Venice, in the early sixteenth century, a declining power in the Mediterranean, was forced to steer a tortuous course between burgeoning Ottoman and Spanish power. In the sixteenth century, it twice aligned with Spain and the Hapsburgs against the Turks. In the first of those wars the Christian coalition suffered a humiliating defeat at Prevesa. In the second in 1570–1573, the Christian coalition led by Spain’s Philip II, won a major victory (albeit with inconclusive political ramifications) against the Ottomans at Lepanto. Due to fear of Spain, Venice made a separate peace with the Turks in 1540 after Prevesa.23 At that time, Venice lost the last of its possessions in the Aegean north of Crete. In 1571, as noted, the Christian coalition led by the Hapsburg prince, Don John of Austria, won a famous victory that halted the expansion of Ottoman naval power. Venice was able to retain, as a result, its position at Zante, Corfu and the Dalmatian coast, but it had to give up Cyprus. Venice’s naval power had declined dramatically since the period in the 1420s of the Milanese wars and the demise of rival Genoa. Indeed, by the time of Lepanto, what had been – as

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measured by fleet naval power and basing structure – a naval rivalry over Mediterranean hegemony between Venice and Genoa, had slowly transitioned into a rivalry between the two major powers, Spain and the Ottoman Empire, both of whose domains spread way beyond the Mediterranean. The former controlled most of the western Mediterranean and the latter the eastern Mediterranean, with the North African coast becoming a focus of military rivalry along with Malta, Sicily and the lower Italian coast. There was an additional factor here. France, rival to the Habsburgs, and despite its Christian identity, allied for a while with the Ottomans. During the period 1570–1573, France was granted some of the trade in the Levant. In turn, France allowed the Ottomans to use Marseille as a base (earlier, the Ottomans had had access to Toulon), somewhat outflanking the Venetians.24 But after the 1470s, the focus of major power naval competition moved out of the Mediterranean to the oceanic waters of the Atlantic and Indian oceans.

Summary The basing competition in the Mediterranean in the four centuries between 1204 and the 1570s has some obvious characteristics that bear noting, particularly in comparison to the later imperial-colonial era and that of the Cold War. Those characteristics include polarity (as applied to basing structures if not overall power rankings); the degree to which basing structures are separate or, alternatively, interspersed, the degree to which bases serve commercial as well as security functions; the basis for base acquisitions in conquest and colonization versus merely via diplomacy; the extent to which actual warfare resulted in the altering of the basing access equation i.e., the matter of “pick-off,” and the roots of the location, uses and number of bases in extant technologies, in this case overwhelmingly involving traditional galley warfare. As noted, the some 400-year-long competition for bases (and associated garrisons, colonies, entrepôts) in the Mediterranean from Venice’s initial expansion to the era of Lepanto first involved a lengthy bipolar naval competition between Venice and Genoa, then as the latter faded, a competition between the former and the Ottoman Empire, and then what slowly evolved into a bipolar competition between the latter and Spain, with Venice a remnant fading factor. This was a regional form of bipolarity in an era well before the development of a global system, and where at the time of the rivalry between the two Italian city-states, the much larger Mongol Empire (and later the Golden Horde of Tamerlane) dominated the Eurasian landmass. At the end of this period, the bipolar competition between Spain and the Ottoman Empire more closely resembled a more broadly based bipolarity, also at a time when France and Austria (the latter linked by dynastic ties to Spain) were also major powers. The maritime empires of Venice and Genoa were interspersed, cheek by jowl, wherein periods of cooperation and co-location of colonies and commercial zones gave rise to periodic bouts of warfare which involved a zero-sum competition for bases in the eastern Mediterranean, Aegean and Black seas. Later, the

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basing networks of the Ottoman Empire and Spain would mostly be concentrated at the opposite ends of the Mediterranean, with a zone of conflict roughly in the middle. In both of these telescoped competitions, there was frequent warfare resulting in base “pick-offs” for the winners, usually subject to diplomatic negotiations at the close of hostilities. This was certainly an era throughout which saw the coexistence of security and economic entrepôts functions for distant bases. Both the fleets of Genoa and Venice combined commerce and naval firepower – much of the work of both navies consisted of protection of convoys all over the Mediterranean and Black seas and (in the case of Venice) to England and Flanders. Commercial colonies were co-located with naval bases in the Levant, Cyprus, Crete, Constantinople and in several Black Sea ports such as Tana, which abutted onto the territory of the Golden Horde. Indeed, it was commercial advantage which was what the naval competition was largely about (later, in the Cold War, perhaps only Marxists would so interpret the U.S.–Soviet competition for basing access). The entrepôt function of bases would, of course, also be a prominent feature of the subsequent Portuguese, French, Dutch and British empires. However, the competition between Spain and the Ottoman Empire seems much less subject to an economic interpretation; rather, religious ideology and more purely security concerns were involved. Hence, there was somewhat of a model for the much later Cold War. The galley warfare in the Mediterranean up to Lepanto, and its relation to bases, involves a number of characteristics that set it apart from the later age of oceanic empires, even aside from the small scale involved, though that is a major point. Guillmartin in his excellent treatise, Gunpowder and Galleys, makes the point about what he refers to as “the Mahanian Fallacy,” claiming that Mahan’s dicta were not relevant to the earlier Mediterranean system.25 Mahan’s emphasis was on sea control, on destroying the enemy’s fleet in battle, after which destruction of the enemy’s seaborne commerce would follow automatically. His two major emphases, hence, were seapower and control of the sea. What the French called “guerre de course,” somewhat the weapon of the weak (“asymmetric war” in modern parlance) was seen as a waste of resources and effort, at best a sideline. But as Guillmartin points out, Mahan’s dogmas were not valid in the Mediterranean system of the sixteenth century, the climax of the era of galley warfare. According to him, galleys, by their very nature, could not effect control of the sea. Particularly, galleys could not conduct year-round blockades. Galleys were very much dependent on fortified ports, on bases. Hence, as Guillmartin says, “it would be no exaggeration to characterize the nature of sixteenth century, Mediterranean warfare at seas as a symbiotic relationship between the seaside fortress, more particularly the fortified port, and the war galley.”26 But, radii of action of the galley and galley fleets were very restricted relative to sailing ships because of their large required manpower and their needs for space and provisions. Hence, “the size of the galley’s crew, the crucial military importance of their health and vigor and the severe limitations on

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storage space aboard specialized rowing vessels limit severely the galley’s radius of action and . . . tie it tightly to its bases.”27 Oarsmen, water and provisions were available only in limited quantities. The main point: the radius of action of galley fleets was restricted by logistics factors and was an inverse function of the size of the fleet or squadron involved. Hence, all sides engaged in “little wars” of economic attrition, guerre de course, and the seizing of strategic bases for what was constant raiding. As noted, Spain developed a chain of bases along the northern Mediterranean coast from Gibraltar to Messina, and in the Balearics and Sardinia. The Venetians in their heyday, had numerous fortified ports down the eastern coast of the Adriatic, around the Morea, in Crete, Cyprus and around the Black Sea. The Ottomans created similar chains of bases both on the north and south coasts of the Mediterranean. All the major contending powers based small galley fleets forward from their homelands. Venice had small galley fleets at Canea on Crete, and in Cyprus and Constantinople; Spain had a considerable galley fleet in Messina. One other point bears mention. Sustaining a large galley fleet, particularly for a major expedition, required logistical support, manpower reserves, and critical specialized facilities such as shipyards, arsenals, powder mills, and ovens for baking ships’ biscuits in requisite quantities. The latter was a major logistical consideration. These requirements for a logistical base capable of supporting a major operation could only be satisfied by a major port city with a first-rate harbor and a rich hinterland and a well-developed trading network to support it. According to Guillmartin, only three cities on the Mediterranean fully accommodated these criteria;28 Barcelona, Venice and Constantinople, not coincidentally representing the three major naval powers of the period. Alexandria and Salonika were said not quite to qualify. Others said to be backed by lesser economic resources or less government interest were Seville, Malaga, Marseilles, Genoa, Toulon, Algiers, Naples, Messina and Smyrna, though they could all act as forward bases for major expeditions. Genoa, of course, had earlier rivaled Venice. Seasonal factors also played a role. The Mediterranean campaigning season was short, from mid-March to mid-October. Galley fleets could only go limited distances before needing to get home to beat the advent of winter, and this was particularly problematic if a lengthy siege to reduce an opponent’s seaside fortress was desired.29 As noted by Guillmartin, “the Ottoman fleet which recaptured Tunis in 1574 left Istanbul on 15 May and returned in November,” with about five weeks’ journey in both directions, leaving just over three months for effective military action. He sees this as indicating the limits on long-range power projection of a sixteenth century galley fleet for an operation conducted about 1000 miles away from the home base. The contest for forward bases closer to the foe’s center of gravity for purposes of power projection was fought back and forth by Spain and the Ottomans. Spain, on the defensive at the height of Ottoman power, had to worry about a range of possibilities, including capture of a port in Spain itself. Malta was particularly critical – “close enough to the Ottoman sources of naval power to

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permit a strong and sustained attack upon it, yet close enough to the Spanish sphere of influence to be a serious threat to Spain in Turkish hands.” La Goleta, the island fortress in Tunis harbor, was also a concern, and Spanish naval forces there were enhanced. Port Mahon on Minorca in the Balearics was also a concern, but for Spain, less worrisome because of its nearness to the homeland (allowing for a relief operation), and so far from the Ottomans’ home base that a siege could only be a short one. Likewise, for the same reason, there was less of a concern about the Spaniards’ bases at Oran and Mazarquimir on the North African coast. Meanwhile, for economic as well as security reasons, Spain based as many galleys as possible in its Italian possessions such as Messina in Sicily. Venice also forward-based galleys, is this case forward in the eastern Mediterranean to protect a shrinking colonial empire, to protect its wheat supplies from the Aegean islands, and to counter-threaten Ottoman bases. In the big battle at Lepanto, Venice itself contributed 61 galleys and eight galleases, Candia 18 galleys, Canea eight (both in Crete), Retino three, Corfu three, Cefalonia two, Zente two, and one each from Lesina, Quero, Veglia Capo de Istria, Cataro, Padua, Bergamo, Arbe and Brescia. Hence, by 1570, Crete, Corfu and a couple of smaller Greek bases were all that was left of a once more formidable forward presence.

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Basing systems in the age of empire and sail

The Portuguese seaborne empire and basing structure Though both the Mongols and Ming China (also Southern Sung China and the Arabs) projected power over long distances with sailing vessels, it was the Portuguese who really inaugurated the “Age of Sail,” with the explorations along the West African coast leading up to Vasco de Gama’s epic voyage to India, Albuquerque’s elaboration of a maritime empire in the Indian Ocean, and the extension of naval power to Taiwan and Japan, and also to Brazil.1 This new capacity for long-range power projection was much closer to a truly “global reach” than anything that had preceded it. A number of general statements may be made at the outset regarding Portugal’s basing system and its then concurrent role in the world. First, it is noteworthy that the nature of Portugal’s role in the world has been the subject of some debate between contending scholars. Some, such as Modelski and Thompson, relying not only on the facts of its elaborate basing system but also the facts of its predominance in numbers of capital ships, i.e., large warships, have designated Portugal, despite its small population and limited territory on the fringes of Europe, as the first of the long-cycle maritime hegemons.2 (Venice is sometimes conceded similar status in a more limited geographic theater). Wallenstein, however, examining the skein of world systems leadership, sees the successor, the Netherlands, as the first truly global maritime and commercial hegemon.3 Levy, examining the history of the “great powers,” denies Portugal this title on the basis not only of its small size, but its inability to contest great power wars and its easy takeover by Spain in the 1630s. He and others are more likely to see Spain as the sixteenth century hegemon, basing networks and the volume of capital ships notwithstanding.4 In contrast with Ming China, with its massive projection of maritime power into the Indian Ocean area, Portugal achieved a more permanent presence with bases and overseas station fleets relative to the former’s mere use of port visits and some amphibious excursions on land. Further, extensive shipbuilding overseas, particularly in Goa, India, reduced the need for Portugal to transit ships back and forth from Lisbon to the Indian Ocean, and this too amounted to a distinction with Ming China and other previous seapowers.

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The basing structure erected by Portugal in the sixteenth century was not entirely devoted to security purposes. On the contrary, both the Portuguese fleets and its bases were deeply involved in economic activity. Many bases were also feitoria, “factories,” trading posts and hubs for a variety of economic functions.5 Portuguese warships convoyed ships involved in commodity trade. Bases/ entrepôts in West Africa in particular served also as slaving stations, as they would subsequently for the Dutch, French and British. In this sense,6 the mixing of security and economic functions was similar to the Venetian and Genoese practice, and distinct from later practice during the periods of British and U.S. ascendancy, the matter of the protection of “sea lines of communications,” a.k.a. oil routes, notwithstanding. Portuguese expansion of a basing network in the Indian Ocean, the Far East, and South America, met with little maritime competition from rival naval powers, the early conflicts with the mostly galley-driven Ottoman navy notwithstanding. Rather, Spain’s then contemporary erection of a basing system in the Caribbean and on the Pacific coast of Central and South America amounted to a form of somewhat non-rivalrous and disconnected bipolarity. On the other hand, Portugal’s basing structure, referenced both forward and backward in time, reflects Thompson’s concept of system leader lineage, centered particularly on the Indian Ocean rimland littoral and Southeast Asia. Portugal used numerous bases in Ceylon, Arabia and East Africa earlier utilized, if only on a temporary basis, by Zheng He’s Chinese navy. And later, much of the Portuguese system would be superseded by that of the Netherlands, albeit with a greater concentration in Indonesia. Much later, the U.S. and USSR would contest for access in many of the same places. This then new, in the sixteenth century (but beginning earlier), Portuguese capacity for long-range power projection was, according to Glete and Padfield, based on three developments: ship construction, navigation and gunnery.7 The ships associated with the Portuguese expansion were mainly caravels, only 50 to 60 feet long overall, but also ships called “naos,” about 90–100 feet long, weighing perhaps 200 tons. Navigation was based on three elements: compass course, estimated distance, and observed latitude – these were greatly developed toward the end of the fifteenth century. And, during this period, there was the development of the “great gun,” the weapon which, according to Padfield and Glete, became the supreme arbiter of seapower.8 Portuguese caravels mounted “bombards,” tubes formed of wrought-iron fitted over while white hot, holding the barrel in a series of tight reinforces and lashed to a timber bed.” With these weapons, the Portugese inaugurated a new era of sea fighting, the standoff artillery duel fought by groups of ships in close-hauled line ahead, a development that was later perfected by the Dutch and English in the seventeenth century. The Portuguese seaborne empire evolved only slowly and gradually, emanating from a small population and territorial base at home. Again, this expansion was achieved with only limited opposition from contending naval powers, the Ottoman Empire constituting somewhat of an exception.

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The first hints of colonial and maritime expansion came with the takeover of Ceuta (Morocco) in 1415 and the island of Madeira (1419), about a century before the main thrust of Portuguese expansion in the early sixteenth century. In the middle and close of the fifteenth century, there was further expansion to Tangier (1437), Arguim (Mauritania) (1445), Alcacer in North Africa (1458), the Azores (1439), Cape Verde (1456), and Sao Tome (1510).9 The latter two would later constitute important fleet basing points off the coast of Africa. Then, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, propelled by the aforementioned advances in shipbuilding and navigation, there was the expansion to Mazagan, Morocco (1514), and in East Africa at Mombasa (1505), Zanzibar, Pate, Penda, Malindi (1505) and Sofala, Sena, Tete, Mocambique, Oval (1505) in Mozambique. Following, at the time of Albuquerque, a Portuguese presence was established in Indonesia, at Timor, Solor and Flores (1520), Passim (1512), and in India at Diu (1509) (scene of a major naval battle), Chaul (1521), Calicut (1508), Cochin (1503), Canavore (1505), Quihan (1519), and in Bassein, Damago and Bombay (1534), and Ceylon at Colombo in 1518. Socotra off the coast of Yemen was taken over in 1507, and a base established at Muscat in Oman in 1515. Not long afterwards, outposts were established in Brazil at Recife (1520) and at Pernambuco and Bahia in the 1530s, much later at Belem in the interior (1616), and at Rio de Janeiro and Paraiba further south. It is to be noted that because of the prevailing wind patterns, sailing ships moving from Lisbon around the African cape to the Indian Ocean were required to go close to the Brazilian coast before heading east to round that cape.10 In the Far East beyond Indonesia, outposts were established in Macao (1557), and Nagasaki (1520). Meanwhile, additional posts were established in long-bypassed Angola in 1575 at Maxima, Massagao, and Combonde, as well as at the later more important Luanda.11 Within Europe, in the Mediterranean and along the European west coast, Portugal had little access, nor was it involved in naval combat or naval diplomacy in these areas (Spain dominated the western Mediterranean, growing British power the area to the north). Some exceptions were the use of Antwerp and Southampton by convoyed merchant ships, beginning around 1550, on the basis of diplomacy rather than conquest.12 Most of the aforementioned points of access were mere fortified trading posts, some garrisoned, used for port visits. Some were under Portuguese control, some, such as those in East Africa and also India involved alliances of sorts with local rulers. And, the Portuguese fleets were relatively small. Albuquerque, in 1510, set forth from Lisbon with 23 vessels and 2000 men (a tiny expedition relative to those of Zheng Ho) in an expedition that stopped at Socotra Island and proceeded to Goa on India’s Malabar coast.13 The Portuguese main bases, and the backbone of its overseas maritime presence, were at Ormuz, Goa and Malacca (perhaps also Diu to a lesser degree) providing for sea control in an arc stretching from the Persian Gulf area to the Indonesian Straits. The Portuguese attempted but failed to capture Aden and Jidda, the latter defended by galleys and coastal defenses.14 As noted, the building of warships at Goa (availed also by excellent hardwood for shipbuilding)

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and also Malacca lessened the need for rotating ships back and forth from Lisbon.15 The pattern of the basis for Portuguese base acquisitions, running along a spectrum from naked colonial conquest to quid pro quo diplomacy, presents a somewhat mixed picture, all the more so by contrast with contemporaneous Spain, which accented the former end of the spectrum. Mostly, this had to do with the capability for resistance on the part of what was to become the hosts of the bases. In areas where militarily and technologically backward peoples resided, such as in West Africa, coastal bases were taken by conquest along with slaves and gold, often involving coastal forts and those a bit upstream from the mouths of major rivers such as the Congo. In India, Indonesia and along both the Malabar and Coromandel coasts of India, where there were more developed and better armed principalities, deals often had to be struck, more symmetrical trade relations established, or, as was the case particularly in India, a divide and conquer strategy of alliances could be utilized. Generally speaking, by contrast with later eras, use of arms transfers as a quid pro quo seems to have played a limited role.16

The Spanish seaborne empire and basing structure During the period of Portuguese maritime ascendance, Spain also developed a vast maritime empire and a corresponding far-flung basing system.17 As noted, some analysts contest the idea of Portuguese maritime hegemony, the numbers of capital ships and the far-flung nature of a basing system stretching from Recife to Nagasaki notwithstanding. Rather, they still see a fundamentally more powerful Spain, militarily powerful on the ground in Europe as well as at sea outside the continent, and easily able later to take over Portugal itself. Again it is noteworthy that Spain’s basing system, geographically speaking, coincided at its peak with Portugal’s, but was little competitive with it after Tordesillas, excepting some rivalry over islands in the eastern Atlantic, offshore Europe and others in Southeast Asia along the Indonesia/Philippines faultline. As Portugal began its expansion with Ceuta and Madeira, likewise, Spain began in the late fifteenth century with the Canary Islands, and its harbor at Las Palmas (1479), afterwards taking decades to subdue the local Guanche people.18 And, as noted, in the context of Mediterranean galley warfare and the SpanishOttoman rivalry in the Mediterranean, and in the wake of the reconquista, Spain in the early 1500s acquired bases along the North African coast at Melilla (1492),19 Mers El Kebir, Oran, Mostaganem, Tenes, Algiers, Bougie (all 1505), Tunis/Goleta (1535), Malta (1535), also in the early sixteenth century at Messina and Naples, Italy.20 Those conquests and base acquisitions were made against strong opposition, i.e., the Ottomans and their Muslim satraps in North Africa. However, after the first transatlantic voyages of discovery, Spain moved quickly and decisively to elaborate a web of bases and colonies in the Caribbean and Central and South America. Here, conquest against vastly inferior and

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outgunned native populations was relatively simple, as witness the quick collapse of the Inca, Aztec and Mayan empires under assault from vastly numerically inferior forces. And unlike Portugal, with its system of coastal outposts and bases, Spain conquered and colonized large land masses of continental size, again the function of limited opposition by forces vastly inferior to those faced by Portugal in Arabia and India.21 The main strategic bases of the Spanish seaborne empire were at Santo Domingo (1496), Vera Cruz/San Juan de Ulloa (1579), Havana (1511), Acapulco (1527), Cartagena, San Juan de Puerto Rico, Manila (1540), and Nombre de Dios and Puerto Bello (Panama, 1598). Of these, of great importance in particular was Havana, from where warships could control the Florida Straits and the Caribbean island passages, and where similar to the role of Goa for Portugal, major shipbuilding took place (also in Acapulco) to lessen the need for rotation of ships to and from Spain.22 Other than the aforementioned main naval bases, a number of other ports were used as more minor bases in Latin America. Among them were Darien, Panama (1513), Kingston, Jamaica (1509, later taken by England), Maracaibo, Lima (1535), Santiago (1541), Tehuantepec and Yucatan in Mexico, Panama City, Arica, in Chile, Buenos Aires, Huatulco in Nicaragua, Guayaquil in Ecuador, Santiago de Cuba (1521), St. Augustine in Florida, and Cubagna in the Caribbean. In addition to the main base at Manila, in Asia, there was some access in the Moluccas. Within Europe, and in the context of the struggle for naval supremacy with England, Spanish fleets utilized access to Lisbon around 1587 and later at Kinsale in Ireland around 1601.23 After the takeover of Portugal, access was expanded in North Africa to points at Ceuta, Tangiers and San Lucar. As noted, small flotillas were forward-based at Havana, Acapulco and San Juan, warships were built in the fomer two, and at Realijo in Nicaragua and Cartagena, later also at Guayaquil.24 As a force multiplier, this was analogous to the U.S. Navy’s later drydocking of aircraft carriers in Japan and the Philippines. According to Parry, in comparing the Portugese and Spanish “systems of oceanic trade” (mostly Lisbon to Goa vs. Seville to various harbors in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico), that of Spain “was the larger both in bulk and value.”25 But neither was huge. In both cases, armed ships were involved, alone or involving armed cargo ships. For Spain as well as Portugal, the “naos” had replaced the “caravels,” the former characterized as “spare rigged merchant ships of greater capacity and capable of carrying more formidable armament.”26 By 1560, this involved 60–65 ships on average each year westbound, somewhat fewer eastbound.27 For the Carrera de Indies, three harbors were most important: Santo Domingo for the islands, Vera Cruz–San Juan de Ulloa for New Spain (Mexico), and Nombre de Dios (Panama) for Peru. The last-named was later superseded by Puerto Bello. Smaller ships plied in Peru and Chile, and for this, ships were built at Huatulco in Nicaragua adjacent to good timber stands. In the latter part of the sixteenth century, ships were also built at Guayaquil.28

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Lengthy times were involved in fleet voyages at this time. From Acapulco to Manila was a trade wind run of eight to ten weeks.29 The return voyage took four to seven months (after leaving Manila, ships often struggled for two months to move in a northeasterly direction). In the Atlantic, in the 1550s, the galleon was developed, “a specialized fighting ship, often of 500 tons or more, with finer lines than a merchant ship, and with a heavy broadside armament.”30 These ships kept open the shipping lanes from Seville to the Canaries to the Azores, and could escort fleets across the Atlantic. Coming the other way, the Mexican Flota made a three to four week journey from Vera Cruz to Havana against the trade winds, then took a few months to get to Spain via the Florida channel and through the Bahamas.31 Each convoy was guarded by numbers from two to eight galleons. Both the Spanish flotas going to Panama and hence Peru, and to Mexico, wintered in the Indies. Hence, total round-trips lasted more than a year. Thus can one see that as in the case of Portugal, Spain’s basing network and naval power was initially entwined with economic activity. But there were important differences. Portugal established a network of “factories” or trading posts in Africa and India to deal with trade in gold, ivory and slaves. And, its fleets did function in terms of protecting trade routes and convoys. In Spain’s case, convoying of the silver flota was the be-all and end-all of its navy’s functions. That involved critically a route from Peru to Panama, overland the isthmus, on to Havana and San Juan, and across the Atlantic with stops in the Azores or Canaries. The trade route from Acapulco to Manila and back was also vital. Somewhat of an analogy exists here with the U.S. Cold War concern for oil tanker routes running from the Persian Gulf to Asia, Europe and America.

The Dutch seaborne empire and basing structure Following that of Portugal, and still somewhat coincident with that of Spain, was the Netherlands seaborne empire, deemed by Modelski et al. as the long cycle hegemon of the seventeenth century, based on data for capital ships. Actually, Wallerstein et al., purveyors of international systems theory, designate the Netherlands as the first of the major commercial/maritime empires,32 based not only on maritime power (capital ships and basing networks), but on the role of Amsterdam as the preeminent global commercial hub, a status claimed never to have been held by Lisbon even at the peak of Portugal’s power. Levy, meanwhile, also grants the Netherlands the status of great power, a status conceded to Spain but not Portugal, based on calculations of military power and the capacity to win major wars on the ground in Europe itself.33 Most noteworthy in the case of the Netherlands is the extent to which its global basing system largely mirrored that of its predecessor, Portugal, in sheer geographic locational terms. Hence, the fit to Thompson’s concept of system leader lineage, as the Netherlands largely took over Portugal’s empire, and largely matched its geopolitical configuration all around the Eurasian rimland, centered on the Indian Ocean, but involving also Brazil and the Far East.

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The Dutch took the Portuguese empire by force, whereas the latter was built from scratch via gradual conquest in West and East Africa, India and the East Indies, and whereas the former later yielded mostly peacefully in the end to the next system leader, Great Britain, via dynastic politics, after earlier having fought with it three major naval wars. Levy is insistent on the capacity to prevail in major wars as a determinant of great power status.34 And it is noteworthy that Modelski, Thompson and Wallerstein give the Netherlands the status of a century-long hegemony despite its small land size, its loss to Britain of two out of three naval wars, and its chronically living under threat from a land attack by a much stronger continental power, France. The beginnings of a Dutch overseas basing structure were actually in Indonesia (unlike Portugal, they did not expand gradually along both coasts of Africa), first in Amboina and Ternate (1605), Tidore (1613), then in Batavia in 1619, later in Malacca (1641, taken from Portugal).35 Batavia (later called Jakarta) was to become the main Asian naval base of the Dutch Empire, and to remain so up to World War II. Around 1634, the Dutch captured and established bases in the Caribbean at Curacao, Bonaire, St. Martin’s, St. Eustatius, and Aruba here in competition with the surrounding Spanish outposts (Portugal had never had a foothold in the Caribbean).36 Beginning in 1638 with El Minya (Ghana), the Dutch began to roll up some of the erstwhile Portuguese bases in West Africa – later, around 1663, this was extended to Loango (Angola), elsewhere on the Gold Coast and Cape Verde, also at Cape Town. Also in the 1630s and 1640s, the Dutch (really the VOC company) established an outpost in India at Pulicat. Later, the Dutch had additional outposts in India at Pondicherry (1677), Cannivore and Quilon and in Sri Lanka at Batticola. By 1750, beyond the point of Dutch maritime supremacy, bases were used in India at Balasore, Calcutta, Dacca, Patna and Agra, also in Thailand near Bangkok. By that time the major Dutch bases in Indonesia were at Batavia, Malacca, Palembang and Padang in Indonesia, and in Borus, Sadras, Nagapatam, Cochin and Surat in India, and in Ceylon at Jaffna, Trincomalee, Galle, Colombo, Jaffnapatam and Batticola. Access was gained also in Zeelandia (Taiwan) in 1627, and Japan in the 1640s at Nagasaki, Deshima and Hirada. A base at Canton in China was shared with Britain.37 Also, the Dutch attacked and replaced the Portuguese for a while in Brazil, taking Bahia (1623), and Pernambuco (1630), both of which were shortly after returned to Portuguese control, the latter only in 1648.38 More so than Portugal, the Netherlands was engaged in naval warfare within Europe, and utilized a number of external bases while in conflict with Britain and in connection with wars and shifting alliances in the Baltic. Bergen in Norway was extensively used by the Dutch navy in the 1660s,39 in connection with convoying merchant ships home to Holland in the face of British attacks. Kalmar in Sweden was also a base for Dutch ships, as was Elba in the Mediterranean.40 In 1664, while fighting Britain in a major naval war, Dutch warships had access to Spanish ports: Cadiz, Malaga and Alicante, also Palermo in

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Sicily and Elba.41 Later, around 1704, the Dutch navy made use of Lisbon’s facilities. During the period of Dutch maritime supremacy, there were only marginal changes in power projection capability beyond that exhibited by Portugal and Spain during their telescoped zeniths. The Dutch relied heavily on a ship called the Fluit, first built in 1595.42 The Fluit had a length of 40 meters, a width of only 6.5 meters and a displacement of 350–400 tons. They had 10–20 installed guns, a crew of 60–65. They had good seafaring qualities, high speed, and a large capacity – they were used as fighting-transport vessels, and were dominant from the end of the sixteenth century up to the eighteenth century. In 1644, the Dutch had some 1000 warships and 1000 armed merchant ships (Fluits), with 150 ships deployed by the East Indies Company (VOC).43 They, like Portugal, had only a tenuous hold on possessions, really just coastal outposts in Africa, India, Brazil, etc. – the exception was the extensive control over Java and the Malaccas. And naval power projection was slow. Using the “roaring forties” trade route, the Dutch sent out to Java two fleets per year: the Christmas Fleet left in December or January and arrived in July or August, and the Easter Fleet left in April or May and arrived in October through December. So, the duration of voyage in either direction was 5-and-a-half–7 months, which also served as the parameters for communication between the Netherlands and Java Hence, the Netherlands had something closer to a global reach than did Portugal or Spain, at least as measured by basing access (Wallerstein’s granting it the status of the first long-cycle hegemon perhaps was based more on the facts of centralized core commercial predominance). The Dutch Empire lacked somewhat the extent of Portugal’s presence in East Africa and around the Arabian Peninsula, and was perhaps more weakly established on the Brazilian coast. But its more extensive basing access in Indonesia, Ceylon, also India, Japan and Taiwan, and much more in the Caribbean, gave it a larger geographical spread. Indeed, its penetration of the Caribbean, and also its penetration of what would become the east coast of the U.S., really made for somewhat of a combination of what had been the Portuguese and Spanish empires, now without the geographic restraints of Tordesilla. Again, much of this empire was taken from or nearly succeeded that of Portugal, especially in India, Indonesia, West Africa and Brazil. Both empires were centered on maritime control over the Indian Ocean, the sea lanes leading to it around Africa, the Far East littoral, and the sea lanes leading to Brazil. The Dutch extended this to the Caribbean and the east coast of North America. The Dutch also went further in colonizing and inland penetration in Brazil and Indonesia. And, unlike the case of Portugal, Dutch naval power was evident in the Baltic, in Norway (extensive access at Bergen), in the English Channel (hotly contested by England) and in the Mediterranean.

Great Britain: seaborne empire and basing structure The long reign of the next long-cycle hegemon, Great Britain, saw the elaboration of a huge basing network, colonies, and maritime presence and power

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projection to the extent that, for perhaps the first time, a near global reach was attained. Here also, one could speak of something closer to Mahanian sea control. Unlike in Portugal’s and Spain’s cases, there was no really bipolar maritime rival, though France challenged Britain at times during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. And unlike in the case of the Dutch, Britain was never really defeated at sea. With the domination over land masses such as India, Canada, Australia and much of Africa, there was land control and inland penetration way beyond the points d’appui established by Portugal. Towards the end, after World War I, there was some extensive power projection capability by aircraft, with associated overseas bases. And during Britain’s two-phased longcycle hegemony, there was the transition from sail-powered ships to those powered first by coal and then by oil, greatly increasing the speed of power projection (also allowing for more direct seaborne operations, i.e., not requiring routes allowed by trade winds as with the earlier Portuguese “carreira”). And also worth noting, the British near-global system of bases developed slowly, roughly over three centuries corresponding to the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries.44 Throughout this period, while elaborating a vast overseas empire and winning (sometimes with allies) several crucial hegemonic wars (1714, 1763, 1815, 1918), Britain also achieved extensive basing access within Europe, both during periods of peace and war, in the Mediterranean and Baltic seas and along the western coast of Europe. Britain’s system of basing access within Europe and overseas evolved slowly from a start in the seventeenth century, during the period of Dutch (and still Spanish) ascendance, on up to a peak at the time of World War I and even slightly beyond. In the seventeenth century, the initial primary focus of expansion was in the Caribbean, North America and India, as well as within Europe in the context of its ongoing military and political rivalries. In the Caribbean and the Atlantic, initial access was established in Providence Island (1624), Kingston, Jamaica (which remained a stronghold all the way to the 1920s), Barbados (1625), Bermuda (1609), Nevis (1628), Antigua (1632), St. Kitts (1624) and Montserrat (1632). In North America, there was Virginia (1616), Massachusetts (1620), Baltimore (1634), Boston (1628) and Oswego Bay (1630s), also Acadia in Nova Scotia (1667).45 In India, early access was established in Surat (1612–1618), Mesulatam (1611), Salamore (1623), Madras (1639), Calcutta (1686) Bombay (1665); also in Tellichery, Cuddahore, Belasore, Dacca, Malda, Patna and Visagapatnam, and Agra (1612), sometimes involving joint access on the part of the British and Dutch trading companies.46 Additionally, and also alongside the Dutch, there was an early-on British access point at Ternate in Indonesia, as far back as 1599, also in nearby Bantam and Amboina. 47 In West Africa in 1664, Britain acquired access to the infamous slavery center at Goree as part of its gradual takeover of the Dutch Empire, after earlier having established a post at James Island around 1618.48 Within Europe, and in North Africa amidst the shifting tides of alliances and warfare, Britain had extensive access in a number of places. This actually began in the sixteenth

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century, during which time the British navy utilized ports at Agadir in 1551 and in Italy at Livorno, Civitavecchia, Zante and Cephalonia in the 1570s. Then in the 1600s, among the ports used were Dunkirk around 1658, Tangiers in 1662 and 1697, Copenhagen in 1665, Lisbon in 1640, 1656–1657 and 1697 (after the decline in Portugal’s own maritime dominance in the seventeenth century, it long provided the British navy access to this critical base).49 Cork and Kinsale, ports in Ireland, were used by the British navy in the late 1600s.50 In the early part of the eighteenth century, partly in connection with the wars against France and Louis XIV (and Spain) that culminated in the Treaty of Utrecht in 1714, Britain moved towards maritime dominance and the associated elaboration of a more global network of bases. Critical here was the takeover of Gibraltar in 1704, ever after a pillar of Britain’s basing structure at the exit from the Mediterranean. Likewise critical for a long time after was Britain’s control over Port Mahon on Minorca in the Balearic Islands, which was later lost to the French from 1756 to 1763. Sardinia was a point of access for the British navy beginning around 1708.51 During this period, points of access in South Asia were added to by those in Ceylon, long dominated by the Dutch, particularly at Trincomalee, which remained an important British base up to World War II.52 In Indonesia, towards the end of the eighteenth century, as Dutch power declined, Britain established access to Penang (1794) and Banda (1784). The base at Simonstown at the tip of South Africa, long a Dutch base, was used by Britain as early as 1667, only later in 1795 to fall under the full control of London.53 In West Africa, access to Brielle was acquired in 1713. In North America, Louisburg was made a main base after 1713, and Halifax in the 1750s. During the 1790s, after Holland sided with France, Britain began the takeover of some important remnants of the once august Dutch Empire: Malacca (1794), the Moluccas (1795), Bencoolen (1794), all in Indonesia (Achin had been taken over earlier in 1756) and Surinam in 1799.54 These eventually were returned to the Netherlands as part of a peace settlement. Still other points of access were acquired by Britain during its race to empire and global maritime dominance in the eighteenth century during the Seven Years’ War and both before and during the Napoleonic wars. Dakar in Senegal, later a main French base, was a British base after 1758. Martinique was taken in 1758, then given back. It, Guadeloupe and St. Lucia fell in 1794, likewise such small Caribbean outposts as the Saints, Maria Galante and Tobago, also Grenada, Dominica and St. Vincent, all in 1793, then Trinidad in 1797.55 Sydney in Australia began becoming part of this network in 1788, Bathurst in Gambia earlier in the 1770s. Many of these cases were examples of “imperial pick-off,” as Britain rolled up much of France’s overseas empire during the European continental war on the basis of its high seas dominance. Meanwhile, during the Napoleonic wars, access in Europe was utilized in a variety of places; the Texel in Holland, Stralsund in the Baltic in Germany, Heligoland, Helsingfors in Sweden. In the Texel during the Napoleonic wars, both British and Russian fleets operated out of what long had been the most important Dutch naval base.56

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After the Congress of Vienna and during the relatively long, mostly peaceful remainder of the nineteenth century, Britain further expanded its maritime empire, even amidst continuing colonial rivalries with France, and later Germany in particular. In China, for instance, in the aftermath of the Opium Wars and the concomitant “opening” of China, British trading rights and naval access were acquired in numerous coastal points in the 1840s and 1850s: Kiengchow, Canton, Hong Kong, Kowloon, Swatow, Amoy, Foochow, Taiwan, Ningpo and Shanghai.57 In the following two decades, additional points were added, among them Tientsin, Hankow and Nanking. During the nineteenth century, beginning with the Congress of Vienna, Britain had acquired naval bases in important strategic islands in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. As a result of the Congress of Vienna in 1815 following the defeat of Napoleonic France, naval access was established or solidified in Ascension Island, the Seychelles, Mauritius, Trincomalee in Ceylon and in Freetown, Sierra Leone. The Falklands became a British base in 1833, setting up a long-term problem that would have its consequences in 1982. In Africa during the nineteenth century, Lagos became a British base in 1851, as did Bathurst in the Gambia and Freetown, Sierra Leone, Zanzibar, Mombasa in Kenya and Durban in South Africa in 1847.58 In Asia, in addition to the numerous points of access in China, there was also Tenasserim in Burma (1820s), Fiji (1874) and Tonga (1899), and the New Hebrides (1906) in the southwest Pacific.59 Earlier, Auckland (New Zealand) in 1841 had become part of this network. On Canada’s west coast near Vancouver, Esquimalt was established as a British naval base around 1870.60 In the largely peaceful nineteenth century, though which also featured a naval race between Britain and France, the British navy made some use of facilities in Europe, particularly at the Tagus in Portugal around 1831–1832, long a British ally.61 More so than previous global or sub-global basing systems, Britain’s featured an elaborate structure of army garrisons, primarily for colonial control and also often co-located with navy bases (later, post-World War II, these garrisons were more mobile and able to be directed at nearby threats to colonial control.) In 1848, the aggregate overseas garrisons far outnumbered deployments in Britain itself, around 130,000 to around 40,000.62 Several points stand out. First, there were the very large garrisons required for colonial control in Ireland and India, in the latter case numerically overshadowed by native troops. The significant deployments in Canada, Bermuda and the Caribbean no doubt reflected an ongoing perceived strategic rivalry with the U.S. that extended up to and even beyond World War I. Also noteworthy were the various strategically well-placed garrisons along major sea lines of communication, at the Cape, Gibraltar, Malta, the Ionian Islands, St. Helena, Mauritius, Ceylon, Bermuda and Hong Kong, once again highlighting the importance of oceanic island bastions. The number and locations of the elaborate British system of coaling stations, circa 1889 (more or less at the empire’s peak) is instructive regarding the inter-

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play of technological and political factors associated with basing access. By this time, of course, sailing ships were passe, and all major navies were driven by coal. To maintain a global coaling capability required some 157 coaling stations, quantitatively speaking, a large number relative to the number of bases required for a global sailing ship network, or later, for navies driven by oil and nuclear power. That is, the advent of coal (heavy, bulky) vastly increased the basing requirements for a global navy, even as it increased the speed and mobility of ships no longer dependent on weather and wind patterns, able to move more directly across oceans. The location of British coaling stations also appears to indicate the permissiveness of basing access during this period. Many were, of course, the products of colonial or neo-colonial control: China, India, Mesopotamia, Yemen, Iran, Trinidad, Singapore, Labuan, Burma, Australia, New Zealand, Zanzibar, South Africa, St. Helena and Ascension, Gibraltar, Egypt, various British possessions in the Caribbean, Canada, etc. but equally noteworthy are the numerous coaling stations in other major nations and their possessions, and in independent nations in what we now call the Third World. There were numerous such stations in the U.S., Mexico, Portuguese Mozambique, French Madagascar and Vietnam, Japan, Mexico, Chile, Argentina, Siam, Dutch Indonesia and West Indies, Spain’s Canary Islands and Cuba, etc. Indeed, there appear to be few places where such British access was not allowed for. Presumably, the non-ideological character of the nineteenth century major power rivalries, the relative absence of major power warfare, and the laissez-faire nature of the arms trade all are explanatory of a situation that is so greatly at variance with later nineteenth century access diplomacy, whereby big-power basing access became more constrained and something with difficulty to be bargained over where colonial control and/or alliances were not involved.

The French seaborne empire and basing structure During the entirety of Britain’s long reign as long-cycle hegemon, spanning some two centuries, France was its major hegemonic rival. And, nostrums about undivided sea control notwithstanding, France had an extensive near-global reach despite its requirement to maintain a large army on the European continent. Not as global as the British “reach,” it was, nonetheless, a rival to that of earlier Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands. But, it was more concentrated on a global basis.63 At no point was France clearly the maritime hegemon, though arguably, it was overall, the world’s leading military power during the reign of Louis XIV and again during phases of the rule of Napoleon Bonaparte. At various junctures, particularly during the aforementioned phases of ascension, France aspired to naval power equal to or greater than England, always thwarted by the lack of a maritime tradition equal to that of England or the Netherlands, and the need to divide its fleets between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean Sea.64

Table 1 Coaling stations 1889 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53

Oterranai Hakodate Akishi Bay Yokohama Kobe Nagasaki Vladivostok Ching Wang Tao Chifu Shanghai Ningpo Amoy Swatow Hong Kong Haiphong Keelung Tourane Saigon Singapore Penang Labuan Batavia Surabaya Banjuwangi Broome Fremantle King George Sound Adelaide Melbourne Hobart Port Kembia Sydney Newcastle Brisbane Maryborough Townsville Bay of Islands Whangarei Auckland Wellington Nelson Westport Greymouth Port Lyttelton Oamaru Otago Harbour Napier Gavvtu Suva Noumea Padang Acheh Head Pulo Bras

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106

Bangkok Rangoon Calcutta Madras Trincomalee Colombo Point de Gaile Bombay Karachi Muscat Bushire Basra Aden Perim Island Jbuti Zanzibar Dar-es-Salaam Diego Suarez Nosi Be Mayotte St. Mary Mozambique Delagoa Bay Port Natal East London Port Elizabeth Simon’s Bay Cape Town Port Nolloth St. Helena Ascension Island St. Paul de Loanda Akassa Sierra Leone Dakar St. Louis Port Louis Mahe Tenerife Las Palmas Gibraltar Lisbon Malta Alexandria Port Said Suez Massawa S. Vincent (C. De Verde) Pernambuco Bahia Rio de Janeiro Santos Santa Catherina

107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156

Montevideo Buenos Aires Punta Arenas Lota and Coronel Valparaiso Coquimbo P. Taital P. Iquique Callao Colon Curacao Trinidad Demarara Para Maranham Port Royal Grenada Barbados St. Lucia St. Thomas Havana Santiago Sitka Esquimault P. Angeles Seattle San Francisco San Buenaventura San Diego Mazatlan Acapulco Corinto Limon Vera Cruz Tampico Nassau Galveston New Orleans Mobile Charleston Quebec St. John’s Halifax Yarmouth Lunenburg Miramichi Bermuda Port Basque St. John Azores (Fayal, Terceira and S. Miguel) 157 Honolulu

Source: Atlas of the British Empire, p. 145. Notes Names used are taken from the Admiralty map “Principal coaling stations from 500 tons and more, for shipping purposes,” dated 8 August 1889, British Library Map Collection Sec. 1 (1188).

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Nor could France, by contrast to maritime hegemons Portugal, the Netherlands, and Great Britain, be fitted into the tradition or progression of system leader lineage. At times, it was (temporarily) able to pick off bases in the British or Dutch empires, usually to be returned at the end of losing wars or in diplomatic deals at peace conferences following wars. And, the geographic configuration of its gradually acquired empire was somewhat distinct from the serial empires of Portugal, the Netherlands and Great Britain. It was concentrated in the Mediterranean in North Africa, in West Africa, in some Indian Ocean islands, in India (in minority status), in North America (only up to 1763), and later in Southeast Asia. But at no time did France possess a dominant rimland basing structure and navy centered on the coasts of Africa and the Indian Ocean littoral as had the serial maritime hegemons. And, of necessity, given France’s ceaseless wars and vulnerable position on the European mainland, it had to somewhat concentrate on basing and naval diplomacy within Europe, particularly in the Mediterranean, where at various times it competed for dominance with Spain and Britain and, earlier, the Ottoman Empire. France, maybe more than any other case, demonstrated that not having high seas naval dominance, in the case of a major hegemonic war, could lead to the loss of major overseas bases. In several wars in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (later also under Vichy France), France lost much of its overseas basing structure to a Britain practicing imperial “pick-off” of bases (and colonies) that often were returned as part of peace settlements in exchange for concessions on the European mainland. But also, some of the lost bases would not be returned, amounting to a gradual loss of empire and the worsening of France’s maritime position. The building of France’s overseas basing system, which evolved fitfully over several hundred years, began in the sixteenth century, coincident with the zeniths of Portuguese and Spanish maritime dominance, and expanded in the seventeenth century coincident with Dutch naval dominance. France, which was part of the Mediterranean maritime system in the sixteenth century and which provided a base at Marseille for the Ottomans, made some use of Greek bases for its own ships in the interval 1499–1502.65 Later, around 1646, Porto Longone on Elba was used by the French navy. Elements of the French navy had access to Recife, Brazil around 1555, and early-on in Florida in the 1560s. Cayenne in French Guyana was used as early as 1604. Goree, the slave-trading station in West Africa, was under French control from 1701 to 1759 and again after 1763, given back after the losing war to England. In the seventeenth century, France established a presence in the Caribbean at St. Christoph, Dominica, St. Martin’s, St. Lucia, St. Vincent and Tobago; later in Grenada around 1700.66 To the north, Port Royal in Nova Scotia was established as a French base in 1605, lost in 1627, regained in 1632, lost again in 1714, regained and lost again in 1763. Quebec was established at the same time. Access to Haiti was established around 1697. Also, in the seventeenth century, and again under the shadow of Dutch dominance, France established some footholds in the Indian Ocean and South Asia,

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some of which were to become long-term French strongholds. That pertained to Madagascar in 1664, Surat (India) in 1668 and Pondicherry (India) in 1672.67 Bantam in Indonesia also was a point of access around 1664. France was also active in the Mediterranean in the 1600s, an arena where the dominant Dutch were not very active. Here, previous Spanish and Ottoman strongholds were taken over by French and other privateers in Tunis, Tripoli, Algiers and Sallee.68 In the late seventeenth century, as really nascent French naval power began to challenge that of the Dutch and British, the French navy utilized access in several places within Europe that included Cork and Kinsale in Ireland, flanking Britain (1688–1690), Malaga in Spain in 1704 (allied with France against Britain), and in the Portuguese-controlled Azores. During later conflicts with Britain, the French navy utilized access to Barcelona in 1741 and again in 1756, at Minorca in the Balearics in 1756 (held by France up to 1763) and in Corsica.69 In the late 1740s and 1750s, France, then ascendant in India, had access points in Madras, Pondicherry, Swally, Calicut and Karikula, and at Mahe in the Seychelles Islands.70 It also had en-route access at Cape Town, Reunion and Mauritius, all up to the stunning loss at the end of the Napoleonic wars. Also during the reign of the Sun King (at the end of the seventeenth century) and preceding the defeats leading to the concessions in the Treaty of Utrecht, France expanded its access along the West African coast and in North America. Dakar in Senegal, later in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries a main French naval base, was first utilized in the early 1700s. Around the same time, France established outposts in Mobile (Alabama) and Biloxi (Mississippi), much later passed to the USA with the Louisiana Treaty.71 Acadia (Nova Scotia) was a point of access dating from around 1710; earlier outposts were established in Newfoundland and Hudson Bay. Much later, there were Oswego on Lake Ontario (1756), and tiny St. Pierre and Miquelon around 1793, later lost to Britain during the Napoleonic wars but returned upon its conclusion. That was also true of Reunion and Mauritius in the Indian Ocean and Cape Town on the African Cape.72 In the nineteenth century, after the losses at the end of the Napoleonic wars, but amidst the subsequently continuing (up to the early twentieth century) maritime rivalry with Britain, France expanded its colonial empire, and, with it, its system of naval basing access and colonial army presence. Tunis, Alexandria and Tripoli were all points of access by the 1830s. In addition, Dakar, Bamako and Conakry became French naval bases during the 1880s. In the Pacific, in the 1830s and 1840s, Tahiti, Marquesas Island and New Caledonia became naval points of access; later, Hanoi and Haiphong in Vietnam.73 Ceylon, long a Dutch and British stronghold, was temporarily occupied by France during the Napoleonic wars, likewise the old Dutch East Indies strongholds in Batavia and Achin, but which had to be handed back after Waterloo and the Congress of Vienna. In the Mediterranean, for long a vital area of contention between Britain and France, the former’s major base at Minorca was occupied by France from 1756

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to 1763,74 lost again at the time of the Treaty of Paris and after the devastating defeat in 1759 of the French navy at Quiberon Bay.75 In Canada, the major naval base at Louisburg, strategically located near the mouth of the St. Lawrence River, which changed hands several times, was finally lost to Britain in 1763 along with the remainder of French Canada. French gains during this period in India, and in Mahe in the Seychelles Islands, were also cancelled out by its defeat in 1763. The above illustrates a major point regarding basing diplomacy and access, related to Mahan’s dictum regarding the indivisibility of seapower. And that is that colonial outposts and naval bases acquired in the race for imperial possessions will be lost in hegemonic wars where one side is outgunned in high seas naval combat, subject to being traded back at wars’ ends for corresponding concessions on land in Europe. France was the loser in the game of “imperial pickoff” before 1714, before 1763, and in two phases of the Napoleonic wars that ended in 1815. Despite that, it maintained a good part of its overseas network from 1815 to 1940, via end-of-war diplomacy and the ability to strike deals in connection with territories within Europe. A long time later, in the 1970s and 1980s, U.S. and Soviet strategists would conjure up scenarios along the same lines in the case of a “protracted conventional phase” of an hypothesized World War III, with or without a gruesome nuclear denouement.

Intra-European basing and warfare in the Baltic: 1522–1850: a case study Thus far in discussing the major powers’ competition for bases in the age of discovery and sail – 1500s to 1800s – we have concentrated on that competition “beyond the line” in the context of rival overseas empires. As indicated, that involved serial periods of hegemonic, maritime dominance, long cycles and a tendency to system leader lineage, whereby successive maritime hegemons largely took over control of extended basing networks around the Eurasian rim, in the Far East and the Caribbean. And, those successive maritime hegemons coincided with mostly multipolar power structures, within Europe, where nonhegemonic continental maritime powers – the Hapsburgs, France, later Prussia and Russia – might excel and concentrate on military landpower. But, the diplomacy of naval basing (and some associated “forward” basing of land forces) was also an important part of European security affairs from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries. That mostly involved three interconnected sea regions: the Mediterranean (including the Black Sea), the European Atlantic coast including the North Sea, and the Baltic, with the Gibraltar Strait, the Turkish Straits, the Danish Straits and the Great Belt forming the key connecting links. Fortunately, one major research work by R.C. Anderson, Naval Wars in the Baltic: 1522–1850, provides a very detailed picture of basing access and diplomacy during this period, spilling over to some material on the Atlantic/North Sea and Mediterranean arenas.76 Several major points stand out, however, by

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way of preface to analysis of these data, and these have to do with international system structure and the nature of the actors, prevailing maritime technology, and the then prevailing norms of diplomacy as these factors fed into basing diplomacy. Earlier, we discussed the Mediterranean basing system in the age of galley warfare, stressing first the bipolar competition between Venice and Genoa, later the rise of Spain and the Ottoman Empire in making for a four-way competition resulting in a more bipolar competition between the latter two empires. And, the limits of technology and the enclosed nature of the Mediterranean theater corresponded with the near-total use of galleys in naval warfare, with their short ranges and extensive logistics requirements. The Baltic from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries was the scene of almost constant warfare, peace here and there being an interlude between wars. For a long time, rivals Denmark and Sweden – to a lesser degree Lubeck and Brandenburg – were the major naval powers, with the Dutch during the period of their maritime ascendance in the seventeenth century playing a major role from the outside. Later, Russia, beginning with the reign of Peter the Great (and the building of his capital at St. Petersburg), and England became major, even the major naval powers, in the Baltic. Throughout, there was a complex, bewildering pattern of shifts in alliances in a largely multipolar European system, for a while in the seventeenth century largely dictated by religious considerations, otherwise mostly by dynastic politics and the short-term exigencies of balance of power politics in the context of the rise of the nation state in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.77 In the earlier phase of Mediterranean warfare involving Venice, Genoa, and the Ottomans, mostly only galleys were utilized (the extensive earlier use of large sailing ships in the Indian Ocean notwithstanding). In the Baltic warfare of the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries, mostly sailing warships were used, ranging from large “battleships” to smaller “gunboats,” to use Anderson’s terminology. But particularly on the part of the Russian and Swedish navies, to a lesser degree the Danish navy, there was extensive supplementary use of galleys, sometimes in large fleets of 50–100 ships.78 Regarding Russia and Sweden, this was allowed for by the geography of the area between their centers of power – the Finnish coast with its many inlets, the Aaland island chain stretching across the Baltic, and the Stockholm archipelago and its nearby coastal area, affording numerous stopping points for crew rest and reprovisioning. Often, the sailing and galley fleets fought together. There was also some use of galleys in the Danish island archipelago.79 As noted, the European international political system between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries was generally multipolar and with rapidly, almost bewilderingly, constant shifts of alliances. Hence, as basing arrangements then as well as now largely correlate with formal alliances or less formal “alignments,” there were few if any long-term basing arrangements such as those obtained during the Cold War both on the U.S. and Soviet sides. One exception was some extensive basing of Russian fleets on a longer-term basis in Livorno

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and Lisbon during the 1780s.80 Mostly, the granting of basing access occurred during wars and between allies, but sometimes involving neutrals, a murky subject given to ad hoc arrangements and squabbles over the international “legal” implications regarding the role of neutrals.81 Hence, in a situation of rapidly revolving alliances in and around the Baltic Sea, external powers such as Britain, the Netherlands and France, also Russia, acquired basing access during wars in Denmark, Sweden and the various North German principalities (Holstein, Lubeck, Pomerania, Brandenburg, etc.) depending on short-term wartime orientations. Another main point here, and one that provides similarities to the earlier situation in the Mediterranean regarding Venice, Genoa and Spain, is that there was still a close nexus between trade and military activity. The major naval powers constantly worried, whether or not directly involved in combat, about the convoying of fleets of merchantmen mostly carrying goods – timber, flax, etc. – out of the Baltic region. That too impacted on the granting of basing access. Of course, given the small size of the Baltic theater (even if including by extension the Danish islands, Kattegat and Skagerrak, the southern Norway coast and west Sweden), all of the region’s nations operated largely out of their home ports, using external bases for more extended operations. Denmark’s fleets operated continuously out of Copenhagen (a frequent host of other nations’ navies given its strategic location) and the nearby anchorage in Kjoge Bay off the Sound to the south. Sweden’s navy over time made extensive use of Elfsnabben on the outer edge of the Stockholm archipelago, Delaro a bit south of there, Kalmar, shielded by Oland Island, and Karlskrona, which developed into a major naval base during this period. On the North Sea side, Sweden’s navy made extensive use of Gothenburg and Landskrona, the latter not far from Copenhagen. Russia, entering the lists in the early eighteenth century, made extensive use of Kronstadt near St. Petersburg and Reval (Tallin), later the capital of Estonia. At various times the rival Baltic powers plus Britain and the Netherlands used all these bases, depending upon alliances, while a number of ports along the southern Baltic coast now part of Germany – Eckernforde, Kiel, Lubeck/Travemunde, Wismar, Rostock/Warnemunde, Stralsund, Rugen/ Sassnitz, Pillau and Libau (the latter two now part of Poland and Lithuania, respectively) were the constant objects of great power rivalries, as power and conquest surged back and forth. A number of ports and anchorages along the Finnish coast – Viborg, Helsingfors, Abo, Hango Head, Frederickshamn – were also long-term objects of contention between Sweden and Russia. Critical was the role of Sweden, which in the seventeenth century controlled much of the German and Polish Baltic coast, plus Norway at times, and also Finland, but whose power – and with it, naval basing structure – receded by the end of the Napoleonic wars. The ebbs and flows of Swedish, Danish and Russian power over several centuries was reminiscent of the earlier struggle over the Mediterranean and its basing points by Venice, Genoa, the Ottoman Empire and Spain. But many of these power shifts resulted from dynastic politics that in turn determined alliances and antagonisms.

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One other phenomenon from that period, pertaining to basing, bears mention, and that has to do with the “wintering of fleets.” Somewhat contrary to previous discussion, that involved to a degree more “permanent” or longer-term basing, albeit almost always linked to alliances, sometimes to neutral but friendly states. The earlier Mediterranean powers also wintered fleets, as did the English navy’s Mediterranean fleets over several centuries in places like Lisbon or Cadiz, depending upon the prevailing state of political relations. Sailing fleets needed to be wintered for obvious reasons, namely, their vulnerability to inclement, stormy winter weather. Mostly, fleets fought and moved troops during the warmer seasons. It was precarious and costly to bring an English or Dutch fleet home from the Baltic during the winter, and leaving them at forward bases provided a springboard for action come the springtime. The Russian and Swedish fleets in particular regularly required wintering, because their home ports were frozen early-on in the winters. Hence, in 1644, amidst warfare with Denmark, a Swedish fleet wintered at Wismar. Around 1655, another Swedish fleet wintered at Stralsund,82 two years later another at Nyborg in Denmark.83 In 1667, a Dutch fleet fighting with Denmark against Sweden wintered in Norway at Bergen and Christiansand.84 During the Great Northern War, 1715–1719, mostly pitting Russia and Denmark versus Sweden, Russian ships wintered in England.85 Later in the same war Russian ships wintered at Rostock, and a couple of years later at Danzig and Pillau.86 During the subsequent war of the Austrian Succession, Russian ships homeported at Archangelsk spent the winter in Bergen, Norway and also in captured ports in Sweden.87 In 1788, during another war between Sweden and Russia, Denmark, neutral for a while, refused a wintering base for the Russian fleet. In 1789, the Swedish fleet, forward based, wintered at Helsingfors.88 In 1793, near the beginning of the Napoleonic wars, a Russian fleet wintered in English ports and again in 1799 at Yarmouth and Shearness.89 Still another Russian flotilla wintered at Bergen during this period. Later, in 1807, a British fleet wintered at Gothenburg in Sweden. In 1811–1812 again, a Russian fleet wintered at Bergen.90 In Anderson’s book on Naval Wars in the Baltic, he divides the more than 300-year long period from 1522 to 1850 into 17 time slices, representing definable periods of warfare. Throughout, as noted, the context is one of interminable warfare, rapidly shifting alliances, a mix of dynastic politics and those pertaining to emerging nation-states, slow technological change in naval warfare featuring mostly sailing ships but also some galleys, the increasing role of powers external to the Baltic, and the increasing naval forays of Baltic powers outside the immediate region. One can not easily do justice to the complexity of basing politics, set as it was in the broader context of overall European rivalries and alliances, featuring numerous large-scale wars of which the Baltic was only one part, albeit often an important one. But we can provide numerous illustrations and data, indicating some key points, i.e., that most granting of basing access was ad hoc and during wars, with little in the way of

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more stable basing arrangements that would had to have been grounded in stable alliances. Bracketed by an introduction covering the period 1522–1560 and a conclusion covering that of 1815–1850, Anderson provides analyses, including information on bases for 15 discrete periods of warfare. There are some peaceful interludes, i.e., 1645–1652, and some wars of less than a year’s duration, but the point about interminability holds. The early period of 1522–1560 was, of course, coincident with that of the expansion of the Portuguese and Spanish empires.91 It featured numerous conflicts, in one or another combination involving Lubeck, Sweden, Denmark, Mecklenburg, the Netherlands and “the Empire,” with Lubeck being gradually reduced as a naval power. The period 1563–1570 saw a seven-year long conflict mostly pitting Sweden against Denmark, with Lubeck allied with the latter and with Sweden taking over Lubeck for a while. Russia and Finland also fought Sweden, with the latter often using Revel as a naval base, a point of contention with Russia.92 The war ended with the Peace of Stettin. The period 1570–1610 saw constant warfare between Sweden and Russia and over the Vasa succession in Sweden that joined Poland to Sweden for a while via dynastic connections.93 Sweden also fought Lubeck and Poland at times, and the Dutch and Danes were involved. Here at the beginning of Dutch maritime hegemony, both Russia and Sweden interdicted Dutch commerce largely based on Riga. From 1611–1643, there was the Kalmar War between Denmark and Sweden, Russia-Sweden wars, and wars of the Vasa (Swedish) succession and, of course, a component of the 30-years’ religious wars.94 Sweden was initially allied with Brandenburg and Saxony, during the 1611–1613 period, in which Sweden fought Poland as well as Russia, and Denmark fought “the Empire.” Lubeck and Hamburg were friendly to the Catholic side. The Empire blockaded Stralsund, the Danes blockaded the Elbe, and the Poles at Wismar. Sweden made gains, occupying Rugen, Estonia and Livonia. Regarding basing, Sweden sent a fleet to Danzig, while the Danes, controlling the Elbe estuary, operated out of a base at Gluckstadt. From 1643 to 1645 was the second of five wars between Denmark and Sweden. And, the Dutch, then near the height of their power, were on the side of the Danes first, then that of the Swedes.95 The latter used Stralsund for reprovisioning, also an anchorage at Kiel, and as noted, wintered in Wismar. At issue here also was the Danes’ continuing effort to impose tolls on foreign ships, mostly Dutch transiting their narrow straits. From 1652 to 1667 after the Peace of Bronsebro, there were the wars of the Danes and Dutch versus the Swedes and English, the latter now emerging as a maritime rival to the Dutch.96 Here was a good example of the problem of neutrality intertwined with regular commerce, as the Danes closed the Sound and the Belts to the British commercial ships, in exchange for shipbuilding subsidies. But the Danes also prevented the Dutch from searching neutral shipping. Sweden, meanwhile, was levying tolls on ships coming and going from Danzig.

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The Dutch navy made extensive use of Danish ports. Sweden, also at war with Russia and Poland, used an anchorage at Wismar, while the Danes, operating out of Kjoge Bay, used Danzig as a base. Sweden won the first phase of the war, gaining Skane, Halland, Bornholm and other territories, and with the future exclusion of foreign ships from the Baltic part of the deal. In a new phase, Swedish ships had access to Wismar, Stralsund, Danzig and Kiel, while the Dutch were able to base a fleet at Copenhagen. Sweden was again allied with England. Danish and Dutch ships operated out of Flensburg and Travemunde, later out of Kiel, while Sweden made extensive use of Wismar. Dutch warships based at Copenhagen were used to escort commercial ships back to Holland. During this period, Bergen in Norway was used as a neutral port, with the Danes taking money from the British for not opposing the latter’s attack on the Dutch fleet at Bergen. This lengthy conflict ended with the Peace of Breda in 1667.97 Noteworthy here is the extent of Dutch/Danish and British/Swedish competition for utilization of naval bases along the north German coast of the Baltic. The Skane War and its antecedents from 1668 to 1679 saw initially a British–Dutch–Swedish alliance against the rising power of Louis XIV’s France.98 But then came a period of French–British alignment versus the Dutch. France and Sweden became allies versus Brandenburg and the Dutch, with the latter also allied with Spain, the Empire, and many German states. Still later, it was the Dutch and Danes again versus Sweden. In this period, formal war declarations became de rigueur, but letters of marque were also issued on behalf of pirateering. Prior to a major naval battle off Oland Island, the Danes and Dutch anchored at Falsterbro near Kjoge Bay, the Swedes at Trelleborg within Sweden. But the Dutch were able to use both Ystad in southern Sweden and Gothenburg as bases, though later, Sweden regained control of the latter. There was a big DutchDanish victory at Kjoge Bay over Sweden in 1677, after which the Dutch fleet underwent repairs in Copenhagen. During this period, Brandenburg grew as a naval power, conducting sieges of Swedish bases at Stralsund, Greifswald and Stettin. During the latter phase of the war, France and Sweden were aligned against the Dutch, with the latter mostly forced to withdraw from the Baltic. Up to this point, only England and the Netherlands as external powers were involved in Baltic fighting and utilization of allies’ naval bases. Next came the antecedents to, and the first stage of, the long Great Northern War, which eventually brought Russian and British naval power into the Baltic in a big way. It also saw the beginning of Brandenburg’s (later Prussia’s) role as a Baltic naval power. It used Pillau as a main base. It also began to send ships abroad, including an expedition to the West Indies and the use of Lagos in Portugal as a transit base. In 1683 came a conflict pitting France, Denmark and Norway against the Netherlands and Sweden.99 Here, for the first time, a French fleet entered the Baltic, operating out of Copenhagen, just as in a reversal of the recent past, a Dutch fleet operated out of Gothenburg.

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In 1685–1686, there were major political changes. Spain, the Empire, Sweden and various German states aligned against Louis XIV.100 And, William of Orange became King of England, tying together the two hitherto maritime rivals. England also aligned against France. As part of this mêlée, Denmark transported Wurtemburg troops to England though, subsequently, the latter attacked Danish shipping in the Baltic. Soon, Sweden and Denmark were at war again, with the latter facing a Dutch–British–Swedish combination that forced them out of Holstein. An Anglo-Dutch fleet operated out of Gothenburg during this conflict. Then, at the outset of the reign of Peter the Great in Russia in 1701, began the long conflict between it and Sweden for supremacy in the Baltic. Sweden now mostly used its newly built-up main base at Karlskrona, while the Russians built St. Petersburg. Early in the eighteenth century was the war of the Spanish Succession, pitting France and Spain versus England, the Netherlands and the Empire, as the Elector of Brandenburg became the King of Prussia. In the second stage of the Great Northern War, 1709–1714, Sweden, after its major defeat at Poltava, was faced off against Russia, Denmark, Poland, Saxony, Prussia, the Netherlands and Lubeck.101 The Danish navy convoyed Russian troops to Denmark from Danzig. The Russians drove the Swedes out of the east Baltic, taking major bases at Viborg, Revel and Riga. The Swedes maintained bases at Rugen and Stralsund, but Russian ships came to be anchored in Kjoge Bay, and based at Copenhagen itself. And, a Russian galley fleet wintered in Helsingfors. A combined Russian sailing ship and galley fleet based in Revel defeated a large Swedish fleet at Finland’s Hango Head to end this phase of the Great Northern War, after which the Russian galley fleet wintered in Nystad, north of Abo. The Russians even gained a base on the Swedish mainland at Umea, far to the north on the Gulf of Bothnia. The third stage of the Great Northern War, 1715–1719, saw England also aligned against beleaguered Sweden, which continued to harass neutral trade.102 There was more fighting between Denmark and Sweden, during which the Dutch navy came to Copenhagen to escort merchant ships home, and the British navy anchored in Kjoge Bay. A combined British–Dutch fleet made a foray to Russian-controlled Riga; the latter plus Kronstadt and Revel were the main Russian bases. Sweden used Usedom and Stralsund in Germany as bases with its continued control of West Pomerania. But Prussia took over these two bases, forcing the Swedes to rely on Wismar further west. During this period, British ships were based at Copenhagen, while the Russian navy also stayed there and at Kjoge Bay and ventured to Holland and England. Around 1716–1717, a large combined English, Dutch and Russian fleet was operating out of Copenhagen. Russian ships operated out of Rostock and Rugen, and Russian troops going to Mecklenburg were escorted by British and Danish ships, while Dutch and British ships convoyed merchantmen to Danzig and St. Petersburg. Britain also used ports in Norway for its fleets en route to the Baltic. In the North Sea meanwhile, Sweden built a base at Stromstad near Norway, where there was a big naval battle in 1717, participated in by British warships based at Copenhagen.

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Danish warships during this period occupied Dutch merchantmen as far as Skagen. A temporary peace in 1720 involved Swedish cession of Stettin and other Pomeranian territories to Prussia and also Swedish outposts at Bremen and Verden. The final stage of the Great Northern War, mostly pitting Russia versus Sweden, took place from 1719 to 1721.103 But an English fleet came to Copenhagen as the issues of neutral ships and contraband of war came to the fore. A Russian fleet assembled at Hango, then in the Aaland Islands at Lemland, and Cossacks were landed in the Stockholm Archipelago. Later, in 1719, a Russian fleet of 70 galleys operated out of Lemland. The opposing Swedish and British ships operated out of Dalaro in Sweden. Meanwhile, Russian ships based at Danzig and Pillau interdicted Swedish commerce. The British fleets in Sweden stopped at Karlskrona and Copenhagen on the way home. In 1720, a British fleet came to Dalaro and Elfsnabben to aid Sweden, going home via Copenhagen. Russian battleships also used the latter port, indicating neutral Denmark’s providing access to both sides in the war. In 1721, a peace conference at Nystad ended a war in progress since 1699, after Russian forces wreaked havoc all along the Swedish coast. Victorious Russia got Livonia, Ingria, part of Kurland, part of Finland and Viborg, ending up in control of the littoral from Riga to Viborg. Russia was now the dominant naval power in the Baltic.104 The year 1722 began the wars of the Polish and then the Austrian Succession, with Russia now aligned with the Duke of Holstein.105 During this period, the Russians built ships in Holland, and used Copenhagen as a transit base. In 1726, again, an English fleet was in the Baltic. There was a Quadruple Alliance between England, France, Holland and the Empire, with Russia and Spain on the other side, Denmark too. British fleets (and now Britain is Europe’s leading naval power) went to Copenhagen, Revel and Elfsnabben. It also put Gibraltar under siege. In 1728, there was an alliance of England, France, Holland and Spain. In 1733, with the War of the Polish Succession, France backed one side and Russia the other, and a French fleet went to Copenhagen, put Danzig under siege, and fought the Russians, the latter winning. But a peace agreement gave Lorraine to France.106 The War of the Austrian Succession pitted Russia and Austria against Sweden and France, with the war declared in 1744. The Swedes advanced towards Russia with a galley fleet, but lost battles at Helsingfors and Hango. Russian ships coming from Archangelsk were based at Copenhagen. Otherwise, there was general war in Europe pitting England, Holland and Austria against France and Spain, and with Prussia attacking Austria. The Peace of Aix La Chapelle gave Silesia and East Friesland to rising Prussia.107 In 1756 began the Seven Years’ War, featuring the struggle over Canada between Britain and France.108 But it also involved a complexity of shifting alliances and “guaranteeing” of neutrality. England and Russia allied. England and Prussia “guaranteed” Hanover’s neutrality. Austria sided with France, and

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Russia decided to back Austria. And, after the big war started in 1756, Sweden and Denmark, long-time foes, strove to protect Baltic commerce with postures of “armed neutrality.” But after, Russian and Sweden, long foes, fought against Prussia, with Russia attacking Memel and using Danzig as a base. In 1757, the Russian navy, largely based at Revel, went to Karlskrona, and a Russian galley fleet operated out of Libau. But in 1757, Russia switched its support to Prussia and, the Swedish navy, operating out of Karkskrona, went to Stralsund, its long-held bastion.109 The Swedish and Danish fleets gathered together at Flekkero in Denmark. Then, in still another reversal, Sweden and Russia, also Denmark, acted together, operating out of Kjoge Bay. During this period, Russian battleships were used to convoy storeships to Riga, Pillau and Kiel. In the context of a Swedish-Russian tie, Swedish army troops were stationed at Stralsund, along with a galley fleet, and Russian ships used Danzig, Revel, and Karlshamn as bases. The Swedish galley fleet also went to Usedom and controlled the approaches to Stettin. Swedish and Russsian ships went together to attack Kolberg, but the operation was abandoned, and the Russians moved a big naval force to Stettin. The Russians later took Kolberg, and a peace was then obtained between Russia and Prussia after the ascension of the new Czar. Still later, before the 1763 peace, a new Czarina took over and broke the peace with Prussia. After 1763 there were some 25 years of relative peace in the Baltic region. But, some basing issues were important in the region after 1763, during which period the Russian fleet acquired a reach beyond the Baltic. In a war with Turkey, Russian ships utilized access to Port Mahon in the Balearic Islands (controlled by England) as well as to Portsmouth. A Danish squadron also used Port Mahon as a base for attacking Algiers. Around 1773–1774, Russian fleets operated out of Kjoge Bay, and both Russian and Swedish fleets made visits to Copenhagen. A Russian fleet also had access to Dover, to the Texel in the Netherlands, to the Tagus and Lisbon in Portugal, and to Leghorn. The Russian fleets also had access to Cadiz and Portsmouth. The Russians forward rotated fleets to Leghorn, one of the few examples in this period of relatively long-term forward basing of ships outside of actual wartime. One Russian squadron stayed at Leghorn for an entire year around 1782–1783. Denmark too had battleships on convoy duty in the Mediterranean to protect its commerce. In the period 1787–1789, Russia and Sweden came to blows again.110 Sweden took advantage of conflict between Russia and Turkey that kept much of the former’s navy in the Black Sea. England and Prussia encouraged Sweden and strove to keep Denmark neutral. Swedish troops landed at Helsingfors and attacked Russian ships off Revel. There was much fighting in and around the Gulf of Finland and along the Finnish coast, with Russia using bases at Viborg, Frederickshamn, Hango, Porkalla and Sveaborg. But the Swedes made progress and took Porkalla. After a time, Denmark abandoned its neutrality and the Russian navy was able to operate out of Copenhagen. It also moved around along the English and Scottish coasts, and off Skagen and blockaded Karlskrona. Denmark joined

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Russia in the war against Sweden, sometimes leasing galleys for a while, then got out under pressure from England, Prussia and Holland. There were major naval battles off the southern Finnish coast, around Porkalla, with the Russian fleet operating out of Aspo near Frederickshamn and another off Oland Island. Despite Danish neutrality, Russian ships operated out of Copenhagen and at Dragar, south of there, and at Kjoge Bay, and also at Porkalla in Finland. At one point Sweden got ready to attack St. Petersburg, basing at Hango Head, and conducted a surprise attack on Ragor Vik. But, the outnumbered Russians won a big victory. Seventy Swedish galleys based at Sveaborg attacked the Russian base at Frederickshamn in southern Sweden. And, other Swedish galleys were based at Pitkopas, half-way between Frederickshamn and Viborg Bay. The Russians also used galleys. Swedish gunboats were based at Bjorko Sund, also operated out of the long-time Russian stronghold at Revel. In a swirling series of battles near the end of the war, Sweden used a number of bases: Stralsund, Bjorko Sund, Koivisto, Viborg. Russia’s ships also operated at times out of Viborg, Frederickshamn and Lilla Svartan. The Peace of Werela more or less restored the status quo. But the Swedish navy was wrecked and Russia then became the leading naval power in the Baltic until the rise of Prussia. The first stage of the Napoleonic Wars in the Baltic, 1791–1802, took place amidst a complex overall pattern of European wars and alliances.111 In 1792, with the Peace of Jassy, Russia got a lot of Turkish territory and now controlled the Black Sea. Russia was also faced off against Britain and Prussia. In 1793 came the second Partition of Poland, with Russia invading Poland. At this time the Russian navy anchored south of Copenhagen, while Sweden and Denmark collaborated to protect commerce in the Baltic with a Swedish fleet in Copenhagen. The Netherlands sided with France, and a Russian fleet cooperated with its English counterpart to blockade Dutch ports, cruising off the Texel and wintering in British ports, after being based at Copenhagen. Meanwhile, Danish warships were doing convoy work as far afield as St. Helena. The wide-ranging Russian navy made use of Kjoge Bay and Lubeck, and particularly the British port of Yarmouth. In another turn of the wheel in 1798–1799, Russia aligned with Turkey, and sent a fleet to the Mediterranean, occupying Corfu and other Ionian Islands, and attacking Ancona, which was under French control. A Russian fleet also visited Naples and Genoa en route to the Black Sea. A still newer phase brought hostility between Britain on the one hand, and Russia and Denmark on the other. Napoleon was at this time allied with Russia and tried to present it with Malta, but which was preempted by the British. In the Baltic, Britain, now the leading maritime power, objected to the armed neutrality claimed by Prussia, Denmark, Sweden and Russia, insisting on the “right of search,” an ambiguous area of international law. It sent a fleet past Helsingor that anchored near Hven. They forced Denmark to agree not to allow Russian

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and Swedish ships to reprovision in Danish ports. The Danish fleet was destroyed, and Britain fought Sweden and Russia. The British fleet traversing the Baltic reprovisioned at Rostock, Danzig and Kjoge Bay. Basically, the British put an end to armed neutrality in the Baltic and then withdrew. After the Peace of Amiens plus a one-year pause, war again erupted between Britain and France. Russia was allied with England, and its fleet cruised the North Sea, using Copenhagen and Portsmouth as bases.112 Its fleet also went to the Mediterranean, all the way to Corfu, and helped land Swedish troops at Rugen. Russian and Swedish forces were co-located at Stralsund, while British ships helped in the defense of Danzig. In a new phase of the overall war, Russia fought Turkey, and it and Prussia allied for a while with France. Britain landed troops at Stralsund, but Sweden eventually evacuated the latter and Rugen, its last positions in Europe south of the Baltic. Britain also withdrew from Rugen. Denmark joined the coalition against England and Sweden, while the British sent a fleet to Gothenburg. A British fleet put in at Vedback between Helsingor and Copenhagen, and a British army landed at Kjoge Bay and invaded Sjaelland. Denmark finally surrendered, left with only a few ships based in Norway. In 1807, a British fleet wintered at Gothenburg to prevent French ships from entering the Baltic. There were later British ships at Helsingborg. Denmark, minus its main fleet, used small gunships to fight England and Sweden. During this period, British warships accompanied the merchantmen home from Malmo. In 1808, a British fleet was again at Gothenburg, and one of its battleships at Karlskrona. Also in 1808, Russia and France were allied against Sweden, with Russian and French troops together at Libau. Swedish and British ships were jointly based at Oro Roads, and then at Karlskrona, while Russian ships operated out of Ragor Vik and Abo. During this period of Russian–British conflict, a Russian Mediterranean fleet operated at times out of Corfu, Lisbon, Venice and Toulon. Some Russian ships were captured in the Tagus in Portugal. Meanwhile, Danish crews manned Dutch ships in the Scheldt estuary.113 In 1809, a British fleet based at Gothenburg headed out to combat the Russians. The British captured the Danish Island of Anholt and held it until 1814. An English fleet also transited the Great Belt, provisioning at one of its islands. But in 1809 there was peace between Denmark and Sweden, but the latter again joined England to fight Russia. British ships again operated out of Gothenburg and Karlskrona, and also used a number of ports in Finland: Nargen, Aspo, Porkalla, Torseri and Osel. Sweden was defeated and, with the Treaty of Frederickshamn, gave up Finland and the Aaland Islands, i.e., all territories east of the Gulf of Bothnia, reducing Sweden to its present form. A British fleet remained for a while in Nargen in Finland. Then came peace between Sweden and France, and the initiation of some hostilities between Sweden and England, because Sweden refused access to British ships under French pressure. By 1810, Britain was faced off against Denmark, Sweden and Russia. A British fleet was forced to operate offshore from Gothenburg to prevent French and Dutch ships from entering the Baltic,

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but allowed passage of Swedish ships. There was fighting around 1809–1810 between Britain and Denmark. By 1812, France was fighting Russia, and the latter and England were again allied. England was fighting Denmark and Norway was aligned with Sweden, and its fleet was again operating out of Gothenburg. France, meanwhile, was using Danzig as a base. A Russian fleet went to Gothenburg, also to England, and Russian ships were repaired at Gothenburg. Pomerania was again in Swedish hands from 1810, and was invaded by France. Sweden fought France and Denmark, and the latter’s ships fought against English ships in the North Sea. At the end of the long Napoleonic Wars, Russian battleships based in England were engaged off the Dutch coast. Denmark ceded Norway to Sweden, but the latter had to fight to keep its hold in Norway. After the Napoleonic wars, there was relative peace in the Baltic, and its major naval powers had little need for external basing.114 In 1827, a Russian fleet went to the Mediterranean and took part in the battle of Navarino, as Russia and Turkey fought again. The Russian navy became the dominant power in the Baltic, up to and even beyond the defeat in the Crimean War. By that time, the great sailing ships were giving way to steam and iron. Of course, throughout the period under discussion here, there was a diplomacy of basing access in Europe outside the Baltic, sometimes involving Baltic powers as users, oftentime other powers as users. Portugal during the period of its ascendance had access to Antwerp and Southampton, mostly involving protection of commerce. The Dutch, during their period of maritime ascendance utilized bases at Cadiz, Malaga and Alicante, in the 1660s, and as noted, at Bergen and Kalmar, among other places. Spain used bases at Messina and Naples in the early sixteenth century, at Malta in 1535, at Lisbon in 1581 and Kinsale in Ireland in 1601. Britain used Cork and Kinsale in the 1680s, Malaga in 1704, Barcelona in 1741 and 1756, Minorca and Corsica during the Seven Years’ War, and Porto Longone and Elba in Italy around 1646, plus others during the Napoleonic Wars.

Summary We have discussed here the major features of naval basing in the Baltic from the sixteenth to early nineteenth century. The political context featured endemic warfare, bewildering and rapid shifts of alliances based on a mix of dynastic and balance of power considerations, involving nascent nation states. (Lubeck, Holstein and Brandenburg gave way to Prussia, France and Great Britain were consolidated.) On the technological side, there was only slow development over time regarding ship design, gunnery and navigation (the latter not as important in a small, closed sea as in vast oceans), so that the navies of 1800 were not all that different from those of 1600, save for a much larger number of ships more effectively produced in numbers. And, as noted, galleys were still in use right up to the late eighteenth century.

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Again, basing diplomacy was largely defined by rapidly shifting alliances driving wars. With a few exceptions such as Russia’s access in Italy, there was little “permanent” basing during peacetime intervals, which were usually brief. The military and commercial functions of basing were intertwined, as they had been earlier in the Mediterranean, but there was a much clearer separation between warships and armed merchantmen. There were international “laws” purporting to regulate basing access granted by neutrals, but these appear often to have been honored in the breach, and where basic power considerations dictated accordingly. That is, there were only weakly established “legal norms.” This is a grey area for analysis. Of course, also, basing diplomacy in the Baltic was shaped by basic geographic factors, i.e., the Danish chokepoints at the Danish Straits and the Great Belt, the island bridge of the Aaland Islands, the numerous fjords and ports in southern Finland, and also in Pomerania and Mecklenburg. The weather too played a large role, with long winters (ice and heavy seas), persistent storms all year round in the Baltic and the relatively short season for naval campaigning.

5

The interwar period A transitional era

The period between the two world wars, 1919–1939, constitutes somewhat of an interim or transition period as concerns rival basing networks. On the one hand, and even despite the shifts in power balances caused by the war, the period constituted mostly an extension of the nineteenth century, in that basing networks largely were functions of, or correlates of, colonial control; indeed, their primary purpose was that of imperial defense. Likewise, as had been the case between 1815 and 1914, there was little “permanent” (or other than ad hoc) granting of basing access between sovereign states. These facts were, further, correlates of a largely multipolar system devoid (at least immediately after 1919) of an ideological basis for enmity and absent of the kind of structural long-term alliances that would become the hallmarks of post-World War II diplomacy.1 As it happens, the very nature or the structure of the international system during that period is difficult to define, even in retrospect. Indeed, that 20-year period may need to be disaggregated into two time segments, with the period 1931–1932 a watershed ushering in the time of Japanese aggression in Asia and the beginnings of the rise of Nazi Germany. After 1932, it might be argued there was a period of implicit tripolarity featuring the West, the Fascist powers and the USSR as poles, the absence of cohesion among the first two blocs notwithstanding. But then, others have chosen to see the period either as one of continuing British hegemony or burgeoning U.S. hegemony, the latter already reflected in GNP data. And, after 1932, increasingly, lines of enmity and friendship ran according to ideological lines.2 The denouement of World War I did bring some changes as regards basing structures. Germany lost all of its overseas bases. Japan, among the victors, acquired important new bases in the Central Pacific, seeming League of Nations restrictions notwithstanding. Britain and France enlarged their empires via League mandates in Africa and the Near East, but the former, weakened economically to the point it no longer so easily could maintain a global empire, began retrenching its basing structure in the Far East and the western hemisphere. At the end of the period, the U.S., on the basis of the Lend-Lease Agreement with Britain, began the construction of a more elaborate external basing structure, one that would be greatly expanded during and after World War II. Technological change emerging out of World War I produced significant

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changes in basing requirements and uses, allowing major powers much longer and quicker “reach.”3 The combat aircraft, in its infancy in World War I, became a major arm of combat, and the quest for overseas air bases came to rival that for naval bases (indeed, they came to be co-located in many places). Air transport staging and the ferrying of aircraft came to constitute long-range major basing requirements. And, there was the emerging importance of basing for “technical facilities” (later called C3I or ISR), i.e. those for communications relays, communications intercepts, underwater communications cables and, in the era of World War II, newly developed radars.4 The advent of longer-range aircraft vastly increased the “reach” of major powers, and cut the time required for power projection. Forward bases could present a long-range threat to distant nations via aerial bombardment. By the late 1930s, the U.S. came to fear the possibility of German aircraft based in West Africa or the Canary Islands attacking the Atlantic sea lanes or even the U.S. east coast. In the Far East, Japanese planes based on Formosa and Hainan came to threaten the Philippines, Vietnam and Malaya.5 The basis for basing in the interwar period remained pretty much as it had been before World War I, i.e., mostly on colonization or conquest. There were few alliances or client relationships that resulted in forward basing, some exceptions being Soviet air bases in Czechoslovakia in the 1930s, Japanese air bases in Siam, and German submarines’ access to Spanish bases in the Balearic and Canary Islands during the period of Nazi support for the Franco side of the Spanish Civil War. As of even the late 1930s, generally speaking, arms transfers had not yet become a major instrument for the acquisition of bases, as would later be the case after World War II. Indeed, arms transfers were then still in the realm of “private” or commercial transactions largely removed from politics and diplomacy.6

Interwar basing systems and strategies In the following sections, the basing systems of the various relevant major powers are discussed in tandem. A table in the appendix summarizes the data covered in these analyses, enumerating the major facilities extant toward the close of the period before the outbreak of World War II, their functions, and the basis for their availability to users, be it colonial control, conquest or agreement with sovereign host nations.

British interwar basing systems At the close of World War I, Britain’s empire and far-flung network of bases remained intact; indeed, it had been supplemented in the Middle East, at a time the future importance of that region’s oil was first becoming apparent. Otherwise, of course, the massive costs of the war had caused a permanent weakening of Britain’s global power, though in retrospect, Britain’s imperial and naval decline (currently described as a “climacteric”) is now dated from the decades

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preceding that war, which saw the rise of competing and eventually superior industrial and military power centers in the U.S., Germany and Russia. For a long time, Britain had relied and insisted upon virtual global sea supremacy and on its fleet being superior to any possible combination of two other navies.7 During the World War I, however, the dispersion of its global responsibilities and necessity for allocating enormous resources to bolstering the French landwar effort on the western front, had resulted in a de facto parceling out of naval spheres of influence to the U.S. and Japan, respectively in the western hemisphere and in the Far East. But, because its primary rival in World War I had, as had France earlier during the Napoleonic Wars, abjured an open fight for sea supremacy and had relied instead on a guerre de course of commerce raiding (surface and submarine), none of its strategic assets had been threatened.8 But, Britain emerged from that struggle facing enormous internal pressures to cut back on its overseas positions which were about to come under much greater pressure – from rising Japan and from the beginnings of the global anti-colonial reversal of the long expanding imperial tide. Still, the elaborate basing system remained intact, and a huge navy was maintained. And the old habit of perceiving all other naval powers as potential threats remained, so that perhaps curiously, British diplomacy during the 1920s was seriously concerned about French naval strength in the Mediterranean,9 and the rise of U.S. naval power and the related question of retention of British naval bases in the Caribbean and in the western Atlantic and eastern Pacific areas. Efforts were thus directed at restraining the growth of French influence in the Near East, and strenuous internal debates were conducted over the wisdom of cutting back on the British naval presence in Bermuda, Nova Scotia, Jamaica and British Columbia.10 Some changes in military technology which emerged from World War I also had an impact. Britain, and other major powers, now had to worry about the threat of land-based aircraft against naval concentrations (and hence about its own air as well as naval bases to cope with that), about strategic bombing and deterrence – with its implications for base acquisition and retention – and about submarine strategy. Further, during the interwar period, new developments in communications (and later radar), and long-range flying boats and dirigibles, all produced newly perceived requirements for strategic access, some of which obviously were to be already outdated by the beginning of World War II.11 Overall, of course, Britain faced one major generalizable dilemma, in that while its plethora of overseas assets provided advantages for dispatch of forces to trouble spots, far-flung perimeter defense of its empire and forward positions from which to project power, they also constituted very vulnerable liabilities – and potential traps – to the extent the system was overextended and exposed. The emphasis then became one of concentration on a number of key, fortified positions, which were to become the main bases for overseas fleets and air squadrons, supplemented by a vast network of fueling points, secondary bases (often weakly garrisoned) and contingency bases where fortifications and garrisons might quickly be expanded.

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The system of British overseas facilities, which existed at the beginning of the interwar period, and which was added to in some areas and downgraded in others as the period progressed, can be described geographically, according to: 1 2 3 4

the Far East-South Asia-Pacific region; the basing network stretching across the Mediterranean through the Suez and on to India West Africa and the South Atlantic; North America and the Caribbean.

At the close of World War I, with Germany’s preexisting position in the Far East demolished and with the U.S. still deploying only limited naval forces to forward positions, Britain’s basing network there and in the Pacific quickly became recognized as highly important in relation to growing Japanese expansionist aims. These had been underscored by threats against China (the famous “21 demands”) and acquisition of the previously German-held island chains in the Marianas, Carolines and Marshalls. Britain’s geostrategic position in the Far East, which was supposed to be kept unfortified in line with the League of Nations mandate at the outset of the period, was hinged on colonial possessions or Commonwealth ties in Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Malaya, North Borneo, Hong Kong, Burma, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, numerous island possessions in the South Pacific, and a few toeholds on mainland China. And, although some small army units were deployed during this period (backed up by the capability for deployment of Australian, New Zealand and Indian forces in the case of crises), basic reliance was on the deployment of a large and fairly well dispersed group of naval squadrons, increasingly bolstered by aircraft as the period progressed. With the construction of greatly enhanced fortifications and repair facilities between about 1927 and 1935, the great naval and air base at Singapore became the linchpin of the British Far Eastern basing system, flanked in all directions by major naval facilities at Hong Kong, Sydney, Trincomalee and Bombay, and others in Australia and India. The main base at Singapore attracted much attention during the 1920s and 1930s, partly because it was openly declared a provocation by Japan (a matter which entered into the naval arms control discussions surrounding and preceding the Washington and London naval agreements), and because the cost, utility and defensibility of the base were continuous subjects of rancorous political debate within Britain throughout the period. Indeed, in 1929, at the peak of post-World War I optimism about “permanent” peace and disarmament amid the strange euphoria surrounding the Kellogg–Briand Pact, the British actually slowed down base construction at Singapore, pending the outcome of the then ongoing fivepower naval disarmament talks. Later, driven by the Japanese aggression in Manchuria, expansion of the Singapore base was completed around 1935, and became the home of Britain’s Far East squadron, which consisted of some 14 warships. It had extensive wharves,

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repair dockyards, and fortifications directed against possible seaborne attack, and flying boats were also based there. Nearby were several RAF bases deploying torpedo bombers and reconnaissance and pursuit planes. Slightly further out along the base’s periphery were several RAF and Royal Navy aircraft based in Malaya intended to provide for protection of Singapore.12 Britain’s Hong Kong base, home of its China squadron which also made frequent visits to major Chinese ports up to the late 1930s, virtually rivaled Singapore in importance. By 1939, it was the home base for a squadron consisting of an aircraft carrier, six cruisers, 13 destroyers, 17 submarines and 24 gunboats and torpedo boats, along with support vessels, and several squadrons of torpedo bombers and other aircraft.13 Other major Pacific bases at Sydney and Auckland deployed a total of seven cruisers, seven destroyers and escort vessels, in addition to 11 to 12 squadrons of Commonwealth aircraft.14 As World War II approached, Darwin was built up as an important Royal Navy and RAF fueling station in northern Australia, with docks capable of handling up to cruiser-size ships.15 Trincomalee in Ceylon, centuries earlier the hinge of the British navy’s strategic system directed against Holland and France, was upgraded during the 1930s and became the home port of the East Indies Squadron.16 It acted as a permanent base for a heavy cruiser, three light cruisers and six escort vessels. Colombo and Bombay served as secondary regional naval bases. Aside from questions about the match of British naval and air forces to the ominously growing Japanese threat, Britain’s Achilles heel – almost unavoidable for a thinly stretched imperial power with a population base of only 50 million – was the small size of its army garrisons in the area. Though there was a sizeable mixed British and colonial force in India, and the considerable mobilization potential of the Australian and New Zealand armies, the main bases of the Far East, East Indies and China naval squadrons were only thinly garrisoned. There were only 7000 troops in Singapore in the late 1930s (mostly artillery, anti-aircraft and signal units) along with a small Straits Settlement Volunteer Force; some 6000 troops dispersed among garrisons in China and some additional but nugatory force elements in North Borneo and British New Guinea.17 Against the onslaught which was to take place in 1941, these were clearly merely token forces; later, the fortified bastions at Hong Kong and Singapore were exposed as merely highly vulnerable traps, useful primarily as symbolic presences and “trip-wires.” The close of World War I saw Britain’s extensive network of bases and access points en route to India via the Mediterranean–Suez–Red Sea route remain intact. Strongholds were maintained at Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, in Egypt and in Palestine. Malta became the primary naval base, homeporting a flotilla primarily fielding destroyers and, like Singapore, designed for defense by large air formations.18 Cyprus was built up as a major air and naval base in the 1930s to counter nearby Italian deployments at Rhodes and Leros; Haifa and Alexandria were auxiliary naval bases; and a complex of air bases was built in Egypt.19 Close relations with the Greek Air Force provided additional access on Crete and on the Greek mainland.20

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Between Egypt and India, the Royal Navy maintained bases at Aqaba and Aden, and was provided additional access at Port Sudan, Basra, Berbera and in the Seychelles and Maldives Islands. This region remained a virtually fully controlled British naval bailiwick, to be challenged only in the late 1930s by some – ultimately futile – Italian naval and air deployments in Eritrea and Italian Somaliland. In the vast area encompassing the North Atlantic and the Caribbean, Britain continued to deploy naval forces throughout the interwar period, torn between abandoning the area to hoped-for friendly U.S. control, and enduring the symbolic decline of fully global naval pretensions inherent in withdrawal. For long, British naval power in the area had been based on ship and (more recently) air deployments in Halifax, Bermuda and Kingston.21 But in 1929, the newly elected British Labour Party considered virtual abandonment of all of these facilities as a gesture of goodwill to presumed isolationist America, but then merely downgraded them de facto, presaging the relinquishing of primary responsibility for naval and air control of the area to the U.S. in the 1940s.22 There were, oddly in retrospect, debates in the British Parliament at the time about maintaining naval strength at Kingston because of its proximity to the Panama Canal, reflective of a traditional all-contingencies strategic mentality. On the other side of North America, Britain retained, well into the interwar period, a naval facility at Esquimalt, British Columbia, which was also a terminal for its Pacific communications cable system. This too was later downgraded to appease American sensibilities.23 Not perceived until just before World War II was the vital importance of a chain of facilities on a west-to-east axis running from the Caribbean to the east coast of South America, across the south Atlantic to Africa, and across the latter to Sudan and Egypt. At the outset of the war, they would become vital for ferrying aircraft and other badly needed matériel to the beleaguered British forces in North Africa. The chain began with the Bahamas and various British-owned islands in the West Indies, and continued on through British Guyana, Ascension Island, and a number of access points in West and Central Africa, most notably in Takoradi (now in Ghana), Lagos and Kano, and on to Khartoum and Cairo. British strategists also foresaw, well before World War II, the importance of north-south staging networks along both the east and west coasts of Africa. Freetown and Bathurst were developed as major air bases in West Africa, while Khartoum, Juba (in Sudan), and a string of staging facilities in Kenya, Tanganyika, and Rhodesia were built to afford a Cairo-to-Cape Town air staging route.24 Around the African littoral, Freetown, Lagos, Simonstown, Durban, Mombasa, and also Mauritius, were the principal British naval bases, with only Simonstown possessing major repair facilities. At the outset of the war, Britain rapidly added to its strategic basing network a number of outposts previously controlled by defeated or still neutral European nations, in effect, repeating the strategy used earlier of utilizing preemptively its sea control to pick off desired new positions. Prior agreements with Portugal were acted upon, and in combination with the U.S., the Azores Islands were

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occupied and an air base (later to become Lajes) was built.25 Madeira and the Cape Verde Islands, and a Portuguese base in Portuguese Guinea, were “commandeered.”26 Iceland and Greenland were similarly occupied, as were the Dutch possessions in the West Indies and South America and various French overseas possessions.27 Regarding the latter, there were some problems in overcoming resistance from Vichy French collaborators with the Germans, occasioning some combat in Syria and the sinking of French warships in West Africa.

The French interwar basing system Despite its defeats in wars against Britain in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, in which it lost the race for naval supremacy, France had built an extensive overseas empire in the remainder of the nineteenth century. Correspondingly, it possessed as of 1914 the second most extensive naval basing in the Far East and the Pacific, Africa and in the western hemisphere. France’s navy, though, was far smaller than Britain’s, had no pretensions to dominant sea-control capability overseas, and was of necessity concentrated in proximity to its home Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts. This was an inevitable corollary to its concentration of budget resources on land armies, to deter the ever-present German threat. Yet despite the failure of its guerre de course naval strategy during the Napoleonic Wars, France had never quite abandoned its aspirations for challenging British naval supremacy; indeed, it had engaged Britain in at least two futile naval races during the nineteenth century.28 Before World War I, of course, the joint Entente naval policy had dictated French concentration of naval forces in the Mediterranean. After, there still remained a strong remnant of traditional Anglo-French naval rivalry, particularly in the Mediterranean. France’s colonial system emerged, even at its zenith, a smaller and geographically more concentrated one than Britain’s, and this lent a significantly different character to its basing network and overseas troop deployments. Large French army garrisons were concentrated in North and West Africa, and in Vietnam, in both cases buttressed by native colonial army units. To a great extent, France’s basing system was primarily intended for local defense of colonial possessions, with little potential for projection of power into contiguous areas. In areas far from France, there were only weak lines of communication tying the system together. In the Far East, French naval and air forces were concentrated in Indochina, where, after a gradual build-up, accelerated to face the Japanese threat in the 1930s, France had major naval bases at Haiphong and Saigon, and was planning at the war’s outset an expanded submarine base at a then obscure place called Camranh Bay.29 Saigon harbored some 11 surface ships in 1934, mostly gunboats, and some submarines in addition. There were also eight or nine major air bases, but France deployed only some 29,000 men in its Indochina forces in 1939, clearly insufficient to meet a major Japanese threat.30 All of the French air and naval bases

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were taken over by Japan from Vichy France in 1941, and were subsequently utilized as springboards for attacks on Singapore, the Dutch East Indies and the Philippines.31 Elsewhere in Asia, France (along with Britain) deployed a small fleet in China, with 11 ships, including two cruisers, operating out of Shanghai until its fall.32 There was an additional small garrison further south in New Caledonia, which like French possessions elsewhere, was preemptively occupied by the Western allies at the Pacific war’s outset, after the fall of France. France had lost most of its possessions in the western hemisphere a century or more before World War I, and afterward possessed only minor basing facilities there. There was a small garrison in French Guyana, and others (totaling only some 1100 troops) in the West Indies island possessions. Right before the war, the French had planned to enlarge a small and fortified base on Martinique, and to build another on Guadeloupe, but these plans were aborted by France’s collapse. 33 The most important French overseas bases were, of course, in its various African possessions: in its vast North, West and Central African empire; in French Somaliland; and in Madagascar and Reunion. These gave it important naval and air bases which could be used to contest for supremacy in the Mediterranean with Italy and Britain, some capability for reconnaissance and interdiction of shipping in the Atlantic off the African coast, a north–south air logistics network stretching from France itself to Gabon and Congo, and a naval refueling chain running around the Cape en route to Asia. The main French overseas naval bases were at Bizerte (upgraded during the 1920s), Oran, Dakar, Djibouti and Diego Suarez; there were also numerous air bases in North and West Africa.34 There was also a vastly proliferated network of military airstrips and emergency landing fields throughout the region, providing for staging networks on several axes along the Atlantic coast, south through the Sahara, and eastward from Dakar.35 Off the east coast of Africa, France deployed combat aircraft on Madagascar. The remaining points of concentration for French bases were in Syria and Lebanon, which were under French League of Nations mandates during this period. Here, France had air bases, some of which were handed over to the Germans by Vichy forces in 1940, and which menaced British positions at Suez until they were quickly overrun by British forces.36 Similar to Britain and other major powers of the period, France had few if any bases outside of its colonial possessions. With Britain, it occupied a couple of air bases in Turkey for several years after World War I. In summary, France’s interwar basing network provided somewhat for logistical and combat support in defense of its colonial possessions, but only where forward operations against potential big power antagonists were not really required. The bases later proved irrelevant to its defense against Germany and retained significance only as brief focal points of conflict between British and German forces at the war’s outset, when Vichy forces sometimes were pressured to allow the latter access. France’s Asia possessions, not dissimilarly to some of

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Britain’s and the U.S.’s, proved merely vulnerable and exposed hostages, quickly overrun.

The Dutch overseas basing system Actually, to refer to a Dutch basing “system” by 1919 would be somewhat exaggerated, as Holland’s once ambitious empire consisted by then merely of the mineral-rich Dutch East Indies, plus Surinam and the Dutch West Indies in the Caribbean area. The latter were weakly garrisoned at the outset of World War II and were occupied by U.S. forces and held in trust for the war’s duration.37 The East Indies were another story. There, the Dutch erected an impressive network of bases and fortifications, all the while recognizing the need for U.S. or British assistance if they were to be invaded by Japan. At a late hour, there were some halting attempts at coordinating defense strategy with British forces in Singapore, Malaya and North Borneo.38 As early as 1923, the Dutch built several air bases, a large seaplane base, and even additional “secret” air bases and repair facilities in remote areas.39 This network was later extended to some 20 airfields – on Java, Sumatra, Borneo, the Celebes, Timor and New Guinea – which deployed some 200-plus combat aircraft, a motley mixture of U.S. Martin bombers, Curtiss-Wright and Brewster fighters, and ironically, German Dornier bombers.40 The Dutch army on the islands consisted of some 75,000 troops, concentrated on Java, but with garrisons on Borneo, the Celebes and Sumatra. The Dutch navy, with its main base at Soerabaya (which had some of the most extensive dockyard facilities in Asia), regularly deployed by 1940 three cruisers, seven destroyers, 13 submarines and 40 auxiliary ships. More so than France, the Netherland’s concentrated overseas bases existed solely for local defense. That too, of course, was to prove inadequate after the fall of the homeland and amid the general collapse of allied forces in the early stages of World War II.

The U.S. interwar basing system The United States got into the race for overseas empire only very late, with an often noted though much argued reluctance related to its national political origins, and the absence of some of the underlying forces which propelled European imperialism (such as need for raw materials and outlets for surplus population). Overseas expansionism began – and in a sheer territorial sense, more or less ended – only with the Spanish–American War of 1898, which saw the Hawaiian Islands, Guam, Puerto Rico and the Philippines fall under U.S. control, along with – temporarily – Cuba. Alaska and the Aleutian Islands had previously been purchased from Russia, and the Virgin Islands were later bought from Denmark. American control of the Panama Canal Zone was achieved after 1900. These several possessions came to incorporate what was to become the rather insignificant overseas basing system available to the United States at the

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close of World War I and on up to 1940, by which time the United States was already clearly the world’s premier potential military power, by any standard of measurement. The United States had, of course, long eschewed forward peacetime overseas deployment of military forces, excepting some debt-collecting and some military expeditions to the Caribbean and Central America, and far earlier expeditions to combat Barbary Coast pirates. Britain’s navy had long allowed for relatively secure U.S. isolationism, and the United States had, despite periodic flurries of concerns, long made its vaunted Monroe Doctrine stick with respect to European penetration of Latin America. Its conquests of 1898 had provided it with a semblance of geopolitical perimeter defense in the Pacific and naval dominance of the Caribbean. Afterward, with the lessons of the initial setbacks of World War II in mind (including those of the “Battle of the Atlantic” with German submarines), American geopolitical theorists were retrospectively to rue the country’s laxity in not providing for a more comprehensive system of access around both of the major oceans.41 The regrets were to inspire the much more aggressive American policy of base acquisition evidenced immediately after World War II. Concerning access problems, perhaps the most salient legacy of the war was the near-paranoid fear in 1918 about the activities of German submarines, alleged in some intelligence reports to have operated clandestinely out of Mexico, the Gulf of Fonseca in Central America, Colombia, Venezuela and Cuba.42 When another world war began to loom in the late 1930s, fears of a repeat of what was alleged in 1918 were to produce a flurry of diplomatic activity by the United States all over Latin America. Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, amid very significant changes in military technology – submarines, aircraft, aircraft carriers – the United States did very little to upgrade its overseas facilities or to prepare for the logistical contingencies which would arise at the outset of World War II. Only a handful of overseas bases were fortified or beefed up with deployed naval or air units. In the Atlantic, the United States continued to rely on British naval power. In the late 1920s, moreover, as noted, Britain downgraded its facilities at Halifax and Kingston, and Jamaica was traded for an at least implicit U.S. signal not to push ahead with a surface fleet which would outpace the Royal Navy.43 The United States, for its part, in line with an overall strategy basically stressing hemispheric defense, maintained skeletal forces and facilities in the Virgin Islands and at Guantanamo. The major exception was the basing of the “Special Service Squadron” in the Canal Zone at Balboa, consisting of a flagship and some eight cruisers and gunboats, which was used to show the flag and to collect intelligence information throughout Latin America.44 Designed for rapid deployment, its units were periodically deployed off Mexico, Honduras and Nicaragua in times of political tension, though the United States appears to have wished to avoid the frictions associated with keeping squadrons in foreign ports for long periods. Some submarines were deployed at Coco Solo in the Canal Zone during this period, for major war contingencies.

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There were no U.S. forces or bases in Europe, Africa or the Middle East during this period, but in Asia there was a “station fleet” at Shanghai, which was larger than the one in the Canal Zone.45 In 1932 the U.S. Asiatic Fleet consisted of a cruiser, 19 destroyers, 12 submarines, and nine river gunboats, an assemblage exceeded only by Britain’s; some of these units were rotated back and forth to Manila. Originally, these forces were for protection of U.S. lives and business from the chaos of Chinese civilian conflict. In the Pacific, the United States did carry out a major expansion of its facilities in Hawaii, which became the hinge of the U.S. forward though defensive deployment in the Pacific, supplemented by outlying garrisons at Wake, Midway, Guam, Dutch Harbor, American Samoa and Howland Island. In addition, there were the fairly extensive though minimally garrisoned facilities in the Philippines, geared primarily to colonial control and reliant upon extensive recruitment of Filipino forces. The main ones were the naval bases at Cavite and Subic Bay, the air base at Clark Field, and the army garrison at Corregidor at the entrance to Manila Bay.46 As Japan’s expansionist aims became more worrisome during the 1930s, these deployments were perceived as a “presence” to deter Japanese aggression, for potential bolstering of British and Dutch forces in the region, and for shadowing the ominous “clandestine” Japanese military build-up in the mandated Pacific islands. On the eve of World War II, in 1939 and 1940, American anxieties about an impending conflict resulted in a hasty though determined effort at bolstering strategic assets in and en route to both potential theaters of conflict. Primarily, this involved simultaneous efforts at first, taking over British bases in the Atlantic and Caribbean, to allow for British concentration of effort in Europe and the eastern Atlantic, and to deter possible German penetration in the western hemisphere; second, strenuous preemptive diplomacy throughout Latin America to warn off numerous quasi-fascist governments from permitting Axis air and naval access, and to ensure U.S. access in the event of American entry into the war; and third, last-minute upgrading of U.S. facilities in the Pacific to cope with the looming Japanese threat to the mainland United States or at least to its Pacific possessions. The Lend-Lease Agreement with Britain in 1940 provided for significant U.S. force deployments to a number of British bases in the Atlantic–Caribbean area, and as the base takeovers were later extended beyond World War II, they resulted in the long-term acquisition of important strategic assets. In 1940 and 1941, U.S. forces moved into Bermuda, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Antigua, St. Lucia, Trinidad, British Guyana, Newfoundland and Labrador, occasioning hasty expansion of existing facilities and construction of new ones.47 Bermuda became a U.S. naval base in 1940, with 3000 personnel deployed, and air units were sent to the Bahamas in 1941.48 Air and naval bases in Jamaica were occupied by some 1800 American personnel in 1941. St. Lucia in the same year became a base for U.S. patrol aircraft exercising surveillance over the Caribbean and a staging point for short-range aircraft ferrying from Puerto Rico to Trinidad (later part of a longer staging route to Africa).49 Port of Spain in

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Trinidad became a major U.S. air facility, hosting some 15,000 personnel, while British Guyana was then also surveyed for staging points en route to eastern Brazil.50 Also in 1941, 5000 U.S. personnel were deployed to the St. Johns, Argentia and Stapleville air bases in Newfoundland, and plans were made for use of still others as well as in Nova Scotia.51 The United States began making use of communications facilities in Newfoundland and began planning for similar facilities on Baffin Island, and also Greenland, where British and German forces were already skirmishing over meteorological installations. Of particular importance was the formation of a staging network for ferrying short-range aircraft to Britain, utilizing bases in Newfoundland, Labrador, Greenland, Iceland and the Faeroe Islands, the latter two occupied by the U.K. after the outbreak of war.52 Greenland, though not provided as a base to the United States by the 1940 Lend-Lease Agreement, quickly became a focal point in view of its location astride the U.S.–U.K. air communications network and its importance to hemispheric defense. It became crucial for ferrying short-range aircraft to Britain. In 1941, with the Germans by then driven out, the United States set up there a principal staging airfield at Julianhaab along with radio transmitters and receivers, a meteorological station, and an HF/DF (high frequency direction finder).53 Elsewhere in the Atlantic, and in collaboration with the U.K. before the formal U.S. entry into the war, the United States set up a general headquarters and air force reconnaissance base in the Azores and began constructing other bases there.54 Presaging the later importance of “technical” facilities in the electronics age, in 1941, the United States set up SCR-70 Ground Control Interceptors (an early radar system) on Newfoundland, Bermuda, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Antigua, Trinidad and British Guyana, which in addition to similar installations along the U.S. east coast mainland, provided for a rather comprehensive early-warning network directed against a possible German air assault.55 As World War II approached, and particularly during and after Hitler’s onslaught upon Western Europe in 1940–1941, hemispheric security became a paramount American concern. There were the memories of German submarine activities in the Caribbean and near the Panama Canal in 1918. Further, the United States was faced with the fact that crypto-fascist regimes and pro-Axis sympathies had become widespread throughout Latin America during the late 1930s. Without exception, all of the South American nations – and a couple in Central America as well – were receiving half or more of their arms supplies from Germany and Italy during this period (Panama and Peru were believed to have acquired Japanese small arms as well), and some were acquiring modern German aircraft.56 Further, a number of Latin American countries – Brazil, Colombia, Peru, Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, El Salvador – by then had large German and Italian immigrant populations, many of whom were prominent in commerce and politics. In Brazil, among other places, whole regions were dominated by expatriate Germans, giving rise to fears about “secret” basing facilities and extensive espionage operations and sabotage.57

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The U.S. military intelligence files from the late 1930s are crammed with (seemingly unsubstantiated) reports about German, Italian or Japanese purchases of large plantations or jungle tracts along coasts, near key strategic points; in particular, in areas near the Panama Canal and in northern Mexico.58 These worried about the possibilities of clandestine refueling facilities (using “jerrycans”) for Axis submarines, and the sudden and secret deployment of German bombers which might knock out the Panama Canal locks, Pearl Harbor style. These fears resulted in a strenuous U.S. diplomatic effort, involving both inducements and threats, throughout Latin America, to forestall military connections with the Axis. Demarches were launched in a number of Latin American capitals concerning Axis political penetration, alleged or real; the granting of military basing rights and the possible grey area military implications of the dominance of Axis-controlled commercial airline and shipping firms.59 (Some such firms actually owned airports, one of which alone serviced entirely the strategic Galapagos Islands in the Pacific Ocean.)60 Hurried and determined U.S. military intelligence operations were also launched throughout Latin America, some utilizing clandestine surveillance from commercial aircraft of potential harbors for submarines.61 U.S. activities in Latin America during this period were not relegated merely to base denial and political neutralization, though these were important, particularly in view of the possibility of German air bases on the eastern Brazilian coastline which might allow for domination (particularly if combined with German access to West African bases) of large stretches of the Atlantic. The United States was then also involved in acquiring contingency rights for air staging and naval refueling stations all over Latin America (particularly on the northern coast of South America) to prepare a staging network to and then across Africa, to ease arms supply of embattled British forces in North Africa and the Middle East. Under some pressure, almost all of the Latin American nations complied with U.S. requests, though in some cases not without serious internal political struggles, and in most only in exchange for weapons supplies to supplant those which would no longer be forthcoming from Germany and Italy. This presented a particularly thorny problem for the United States at a time it was already struggling to arm its own growing forces, not to mention those of Britain.62 The American prewar diplomacy in Latin America was successful, in part no doubt because of the stick that might have been invoked if the carrot had failed. Haiti in 1941 revoked a concession for a Vichy France broadcasting station, and then granted the United States unrestricted use of its airfields as well as permission to build a large navy base (Haiti’s largest airfield was already controlled by Panair).63 The Dominican Republic granted the United States access to its two major airports for emergency and “maneuver” landings.64 Mexico, on poor terms with the United States after the 1938 expropriation of American oil assets, and then under not inconsiderable Axis influence, first granted the United States staging rights for ferrying P-40 fighters to the Canal Zone, and then apparently made a secret arrangement for American use during the war of several ports.65

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Ecuador – under considerable prewar Italian influence – bargained with the United States over basing rights in the Galapagos Islands, deemed important for controlling the western exit lanes from the Panama Canal, which were eventually granted in 1942.66 The main U.S. concern, however, was about acquiring a staging network via Brazil to Africa, to supplement already controlled facilities in Puerto Rico, Trinidad and British Guyana. Negotiations with Brazil resulted in the use of a number of airfields and ports in its northeastern promontory – most notably at Natal, Fortaleza, San Luis de Maranhao and Belem – after U.S. surveying activities had assured the availability of necessary infrastructure, runway lengths and repair and refueling facilities.67 Paramaribo in Dutch Guyana was also then commandeered for a U.S. base, to be held in trust for the defeated Dutch.68 By the time of the U.S. entry into the war in late 1941, it had thus achieved agreements with numerous Latin American countries for basing and overflight rights. Many agreements (with Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Dominican Republic, Cuba, Costa Rica, Chile, Colombia, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Nicaragua, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, Venezuela) provided for openended aircraft landings with 24-hour notices, and for naval port staging of up to one division of troops with naval escorts.69 Although access could have been utilized in numerous places, the main U.S. bases and staging points in Latin America during the crucial period 1941–1943 were at Acapulco, the Galapagos Islands, Guantanamo and Santiago in Cuba, Barbados, Antigua, Martinique, St. Lucia, Trinidad, Puerto Cabello (Venezuela), Georgetown, Paramaribo, Cayenne and in Brazil. Related to U.S. diplomacy in Brazil, American military teams were also active in surveying staging areas in Liberia for aircraft to transit the South Atlantic en route to the Middle East. Particular attention was paid to a flyingboat base under construction at Jui (Liberia) and to landing fields and seaplane anchorages in the one African nation long under predominant U.S. influence.70 Monrovia later became one stopping point on the staging route from Brazil which continued on to Egypt via the British-controlled airfields at Takoradi, Lagos, Kano and Khartoum. Otherwise, the United States also made efforts at upgrading its Pacific bases on the eve of Pearl Harbor, but which did not provide the basis for an aerial counterstrike against Japan proper.71 Further naval bases were planned but never completed in the Philippines, particularly in the south at Malempang.72 Garrisons and air and naval deployments were increased at Guam, Wake, Midway, Howland, Palmyra, Jarvis and Baker Islands, in Samoa, and in the northern Pacific, at Dutch Harbor, Unalask Island and in the Rat and Pribilof Islands.73 By 1941, then, the United States had significantly expanded its long weak overseas basing network, though its deployments still bespoke a primarily defensive orientation for hemispheric defense.

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Italy’s interwar basing system Renascent Italy came late to the race for empire, having been left far behind by rival European powers while consolidating its new-found national status during the last half of the nineteenth century. Its forces were defeated ignominiously by Ethiopia in 1896, when they attempted to expand its small East African empire beyond the enclaves in Eritrea and Somaliland. Over a decade later, Libya was wrenched from the crumbling Ottoman Empire along with the strategic Aegean Dodecanese Islands. These possessions were to form the basis for Italy’s overseas basing system before and after World War I. Italy emerged from that war a frustrated but ambitious revisionist power, feeling that it deserved more extensive spoils as a reward for having weighed in on the winning side, even if belatedly. A few years later, the rise of fascism was accompanied and given impetus by strivings for a more prominent “place in the sun,” by dreams of a recrudescent “Roman” empire which might dominate the Mediterranean.74 Concerning bases, Italian efforts during the interwar period – particularly toward its close – were devoted to projecting air and naval power throughout the Mediterranean, protecting East African holdings and maintaining an imperial lifeline to the latter despite British control over the interposing, blocking Suez bottleneck. In the Mediterranean, Italy devoted considerable resources to strengthening outposts on Rhodes and the Leros Islands in the Dodecanese group. Naval stations were established in 1919, a first air base in 1923, and there was extensive construction of underground shelters for ammunition, weapons and personnel.75 The clear intent was to construct an Italian equivalent to Malta further east, which might threaten the Suez area, the Levant, Cyprus and the exit from the Turkish Straits.76 Later, the Dodecanese bases would be used to attack British bases in Egypt at the outset of World War II and to interdict British shipping in the Mediterranean. Throughout the period, Italy gradually established a virtual protectorate over Albania; indeed, the latter was eventually bludgeoned into a rather unreciprocal formal defense pact. One result was the establishing of Italian air bases in Albania, including some on the strategic island of Sasseno, which could be used in combination with those on the Italian mainland to dominate the entrance to the Adriatric Sea.77 To Italy’s west, favorable strategic positions were provided by control over Sicily and Sardinia, while in the narrow chokepoint between Sicily and Tunisia, traditional British naval control from Malta was menaced by Italian facilities on the small island of Pantelleria, which were strengthened beginning in 1937. Libya, of course, was the jewel of the small Italian overseas empire. Beginning in 1926, as conflict with Britain and/or France loomed, there was a rapid build-up of military airfields and seaplane bases, greatly accelerated in the mid1930s. A central air base at Castel Benito near Tripoli was supplemented by several others, and as early as 1939, plans were made for deployment of German

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aircraft at Libyan air bases to aid the expected onslaught on British positions in Egypt.78 This was one of only a few examples from this period of basing access being related to formal security alliances. At the outset of the invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, Italy had several usable airfields and military garrisons in contiguous Somaliland and Eritrea, which formed the basis for its two-pronged assault. Massawa in Eritrea had been developed as a major naval base and port, which, along with Mogadiscio, provided entry points for shipments of war matériel and troops.79 Britain actually declined to interrupt the Italian logistics line through Suez throughout the war.80 During and after the Ethiopian War, Italy greatly expanded its air base network in East Africa, so that by 1939 it comprised some 20 military airfields plus some additional emergency fields.81 Although these bases (and Italy’s deployed army units) flanked British positions in Egypt and Sudan and also threatened nearby Aden, they quickly fell at the outset of World War II, being immediately and completely cut off from sources of supply from Italy.82 Here again, British sea control and military preponderance overseas led inevitably to quick collapse of an antagonist’s overseas positions which proved merely vulnerable hostages. Otherwise, and in partnership with its German ally, Italy sought access to bases before World War II, in Latin America and in areas flanking the Gibraltar Straits. Heavy arms sales throughout Latin America produced rumors about “secret” submarine and air bases and about long-range logistics networks to potentially friendly Brazil and Argentina, but naught was to come of it.83 Closer to home, Italian aircraft operated out of the Balearic Islands during the Spanish Civil War, and some quiet access there may have been maintained during the early phases of World War II.84 The same was true for Spanish possessions in and offshore from North Africa; in the Canary Islands, Spanish Morocco and Rio de Oro (in particular, during 1939–1940, Italian aircraft apparently utilized the Spanish base at Gando on Gran Canary Island).85 British naval control over the region shortly negated these assets, and the Axis air forces quickly were driven from the area. Concerning the nexus between arms transfers, alliances and base acquisitions, it is noteworthy that Axis support of Franco Spain was an almost anomalous (in that interwar context) example of a big power translating military aid into strategic access, where a colonial relationship did not exist.

Germany’s interwar basing network After its defeat in World War I, Germany was stripped of its few overseas possessions in Africa and the Pacific, and with them went its limited system of overseas strategic access. During World War I, Admiral Spee’s squadron had made some use of Germany’s Pacific Island possessions, but British naval predominance had precluded significant German surface naval operations based upon overseas possessions.86 After the war, Germany’s previous begrudged sense of having been left behind in the race for overseas possessions and a global basing system was magnified, further fueling a vengeful irredentism.

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Despite Tirpitz’s vaunted, hurried ambitions for building a German surface fleet to challenge the Royal Navy, German naval strategy during World War I had been constrained to hit-and-run submarine and surface interdiction activities; that is, to a form of naval “guerilla warfare.”87 Though bereft of an overseas basing network to bolster its submarine capabilities, Germany did, however, make some apparent use of refueling points in Latin America, and also in Spain (allegedly using the Spanish submarine base at Mazarran).88 Hence, it is not surprising that in the diplomacy preceding World War II (and with the comparative strength of the German surface fleet vis-à-vis Britain not substantially altered since 1918), Germany again concentrated on acquiring overseas bases or at least refueling facilities for its submarines and surface raiders89 or interrupting lines of communication in the Atlantic. The geographic realities of the distances between the major antagonists in Europe would not have produced extensive requirements for air bases outside of Germany (conquests at the beginning of the conflict did, however, provide additional forward bases for launching air assaults on Britain and the USSR).90 Otherwise, German basing strategy seems to have been concentrated on acquiring air bases from which to control the Gibraltar Straits, for possible assaults upon the Panama Canal, and for long-range bombing and reconnaissance missions in the Atlantic to the north of the line running from West Africa to Brazil. Germany, collaborating with Italy, gave decisive military support to the Nationalist side during the Spanish Civil War, in the forms of arms supplies, advisors and small units of troops and aircraft.91 Not surprisingly, a quid pro quo was expected, virtually demanded. Franco eventually declined to enter the war on the Axis side, which, among other things, forestalled an enhanced German threat to Gibraltar and an improved logistical line to Rommel’s army in North Africa. Nonetheless, during 1939–1940, Western intelligence reported German use of Spanish submarine facilities in an arc around the Gibraltar narrows at Passages, El Ferrol, Vigo, Marin, Rio de Oro, in the Canary Islands and also at Portuguese-controlled Bissagos Island off the West African coast.92 Further, German personnel were said to have upgraded the fortifications of Spanish military bases at Melilla, Ceuta and Malaga, and to have installed artillery in Spanish Morocco covering the Gibraltar Straits.93 We have previously noted the penetration of Axis arms into South America during the late 1930s, in connection with waxing fascist political influence. During this period Germany supplied first-line combat aircraft to Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Uruguay and other nations in the region. Also during the period which saw little outright military grant aid, Berlin offered generous terms on arms sales, often government-to-government barter arrangements involving raw materials. These growing connections, later thwarted by preemptive U.S. diplomacy, gave rise to reports of impending military access, particularly in Brazil. German commercial air and shipping lines were active there, and as early as 1934, a Zeppelin terminal was installed.94 At least one German naval surface raider was reported operating out of Recife and Natal, and there were rumors of secret submarine bases.95

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At the then state of the art in bomber technology in the late 1930s, German and Italian aircraft (Heinkel-111, Junkers-88, Savoia-79, Breda 20) possessed ranges of around 2000 miles with full bomb loads and up to 3000 miles without bombs. These ranges were expected imminently to be extended by newer aircraft developments.96 Although the ranges would not have allowed for combat operations in Brazil from West Africa or the Azores, they would have provided air coverage of a line from Newfoundland to French Guyana, across the narrowest part of the Atlantic which runs along a NW–SE axis. The specter was temporarily a real one for Western defense planners, who feared a German air assault on Atlantic shipping to supplement its submarine warfare, and a possible Axis military expedition to Brazil. Western fears about German access to Spanish, Portuguese and French facilities later proved greatly exaggerated, of course. Besides, the Axis did not then have the naval power to protect a line of communications to Latin America. Also, much of Germany’s air strength had to be concentrated on the Russian front during the early part of the war, not to mention the Battle of Britain, leaving little to be allocated to missions further afield.97 The threat, nevertheless, prodded the Americans and the British into efforts to control the Natal– Pernambuco area in Brazil, as well as to take preemptive control from Portugal of the Azores, Madeira and Bissagos.98 Prewar German diplomacy did achieve some additional points of strategic military access. Alliances with Hungary, Bulgaria and Romania allowed for some forward eastern deployments of aircraft vis-à-vis the USSR.99 That with Italy allowed Germany to launch aerial assaults on British Middle Eastern positions from Libya and the Dodecanese Islands. German submarines reportedly operated sporadically out of Spanish bases at Las Palmas and Tenerife.100 But attempts at extending the network of German bases failed.

Japan’s interwar basing system Like Italy, late to empire, Japan emerged from World War I in a greatly strengthened position, having taken advantage of the power vacuum in the Far East created by the diversion of British attention, China’s then seemingly endemic weakness and fragmentation, and Germany’s inability to protect its distant Pacific empire. It had also flexed some long-range muscle in providing ships for the allied Western Mediterranean fleet and in its postwar incursions into Siberia. Japan’s possession of Korea, Sakhalin, Formosa, the Bonins, Marcus Island and Port Arthur had already provided some outlying points of access. To this was now added – at least potentially – the sprawling League of Nations-mandated island groups: in the Marshalls, Carolines and Marianas. The League mandate for these islands prohibited military bases and fortifications; these prohibitions were supposedly formally reinforced by the 1922 Washington Naval Agreement. Throughout the interwar period, Japan steadily increased its outlying system of bases; variously, by conquest, build-ups in already controlled areas, and by

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gradual, stealthy fortification of the mandated islands. This expansionist thrust was omni-directional, providing for both offensive and defensive contingencies in relation to the USSR, China, Southeast Asia, Australia and the U.S. Hawaiian Islands. In China, the Japanese gradually expanded their access to strategic facilities, even during the 1920s amid the incredible confusion of China’s multisided civil wars, well before the invasion of Manchuria.101 Tsingtao was taken over from Germany in 1918, but was considered too near Japan to be immediately useful as a naval base. Port Arthur was treated likewise, and only in 1933 was it reestablished as a naval base. During the 1920s, Japan was, however, able to establish a communications net from Port Arthur to Korea through then Chinese-held Manchuria.102 Some years later, use of the ports of Amoy and Swatow further south was achieved, in the case of the latter involving major drydock facilities. At a time China was a highly vulnerable and “penetrated” nation, there was also extensive multilateral naval access to port and repair facilities, particularly at Shanghai, which had French and British-owned dockyards, but where Japanese and Soviet vessels were also stationed, repaired and replenished.103 During the 1930s, of course, Japan’s conquest first of Manchuria and then of large parts of China proper, provided the springboards for later operations further afield in China, Burma, Indochina and against the USSR in the unheralded but sizeable conflict in 1937–1939 along the Manchuria–Siberian frontier. In connection with the latter, the Japanese by 1941 deployed some 500 combat aircraft at several bases in Manchuria.104 With future operations directed against Southeast Asia (including the Philippines) in mind, the Japanese made extensive efforts during the late 1930s at building air and naval facilities on Formosa and the Pescadores Islands, and then, after they were conquered in early 1941, on Hainan Island and the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea. On Formosa, taken from China in 1893, Japan as early as 1921 possessed a major naval base, radio station and large army garrisons. By 1941 there were some 17 military air bases, emergency landing fields and seaplane bases, providing a major springboard for subsequent operations against Indochina and the Philippines.105 Likewise, on the nearby Pescadores Islands, there were drydocks, coal yards and a submarine mine depot, all geared to establishing control over the Formosa Straits.106 Hainan, after its conquest, provided major naval ports, a base for eight submarines at Yu-Lin-Kong, anchorages, garrisons and some ten air bases and seaplane facilities. It became the major springboard for operations against Indochina.107 In 1941, preparatory to the final assault on Singapore, Malaya and the Dutch East Indies, Japan easily captured French-Indochina, then temporarily controlled by Vichy forces after the fall of France. After some negotiating with Vichy, and in the face of U.S. and British warnings and economic reprisals, the Japanese immediately deployed naval and air forces to the former French bases there. There were several main air bases and seaplane stations, and the naval bases at

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91

Haiphong, Camranh Bay and Saigon.108 At Camranh in early 1941, Japan deployed seaplanes, flying boats, a battleship and several gunboats and destroyers. Offshore, menacing the Philippines, a seaplane base and communications facilities were constructed on the main Spratly Island.109 Japanese basing diplomacy was also active during this period in Siam, where a pro-Japanese government had for years purchased large amounts of Japanese arms. There were reports as early as 1934 of Japanese use of Siam’s naval bases. Later reduced to a virtual puppet state, it then availed the Japanese Air Force of bases in islands off its Indian Ocean coast, which would later be used for operations against Burma and the British-controlled Andaman Islands.110 In the Pacific, there were rumors as early as around 1921 of Japanese violations of the mandate provisions proscribing fortifications in the Marianas, Carolines, and Marshalls.111 Later, by around 1933 (and with access to foreigners strictly limited and overhead intelligence very difficult), there were reported unmistakable warlike preparations, involving submarine bases, extensive port visits by large surface ships and army garrisons.112 There were also vague U.S. intelligence reports about “midget submarine” bases in the Marshalls and about plans to tow the submarines great distances with “tankers.”113 By 1941, before the outbreak of World War II, Japan had constructed an elaborate system of Pacific bases. At Pelelieu in the Palaus, which flanked the Philippines, there was a 10,000-man garrison, advanced seaplane facilities, and a naval base capable of accommodating aircraft carriers.114 There was an advanced submarine base at Truk (a fleet headquarters), and various air and naval facilities on Yap, Ponape, Jaluit, Bikini, Kusaie, Ulithi and Saipan.115 Wireless stations were established on at least seven islands. Hence, by 1941, Japan had a very extensive network of strategic facilities extending in a vast arc through the Pacific, Southeast Asia, and along the East China coast, as well as in Korea and Manchuria. These facilities provided forward positions from which to launch sudden air and naval strikes against Hawaii, Wake, Guam, the Philippines, Singapore and the Dutch East Indies; conversely, for extended defense-in-depth and surveillance-and-warning capability in all directions. The oft-maligned Japanese preventive war strategy embodying the attack on Pearl Harbor seems to have been predicated on achieving an eventual standoff by maintaining defensive naval superiority within the web of Japanese island facilities in the Pacific, thus presenting the United States with the prospect of an unacceptably long and costly attrition war.116 The strategy, of course, failed.

The Soviet interwar basing network Russia acquired a vast, contiguous empire during the nineteenth century, but was virtually absent from the overseas race for empire. Its earlier possession of Alaska and the efforts of Russian explorers along the U.S. Pacific Coast did not finally prove to be enduring. Russian expansionist drives, in the absence of a first-class navy, were directed at colonizing and consolidating control over

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Siberia, Muslim Central Asia and long-contested Turkic areas around the Black and Caspian seas. What few points of strategic access the USSR achieved before World War II tended to be the result of diplomacy rather than conquest, in contrast to other major powers. Soviet merchant ships, along with others, used repair facilities at British-owned dockyards in Shanghai throughout most of the 1930s.117 In 1936 there were reports of Soviet aircraft deployed in Czechoslovakia (causing considerable concern in neighboring Hungary), which were apparently later removed after the USSR was unable to organize a joint effort with France and the U.K. to preserve Czechoslovakia’s independence.118 In 1940 the Soviets were said to be using three forward airfields in Bulgaria, at a time still others there were apparently being used by the Germans.119 Further north, Soviet occupation of the three Baltic states after the HitlerStalin Pact resulted in the establishment there of army garrisons and forward naval and air bases, most notably with the occupation of naval and air bases on the Baltic islands of Estonia.120 Soviet forward positions in Eastern Europe were, of course, quickly overrun by the German Operation Barbarossa in 1941. In Asia, the USSR made use of numerous land and air bases in Mongolia (then, as later, virtually a Soviet puppet state) during its war with Japan in 1937–1939, as well as in its related, then concurrent, support to the Chinese Communists.121 But some limited arms sales to Turkey, Afghanistan and China were not associated with facility acquisitions, as such sales later would be after 1955 in many places.122 At any rate, Soviet defense needs at that time (most crucially with respect to repelling German or Japanese invasions) did not require overseas bases.

Conclusions It has been emphasized that the interwar system (1919–1940) was one of transition between the earlier “age of empires” and the post-World War II bipolar Cold War, based on ideological rivalry. Mostly, the basing structures of this period were highly correlated to the still largely intact colonial empires dating back centuries, that were just beginning to be delegitimized and unraveled, a process that was greatly accelerated in the period 1945–1970. The most elaborate global basing structures were those of Britain and France, the most powerful nations overall in the nineteenth century, but now (in actuality or potentially) to be overshadowed by the United States, the Soviet Union, Germany (whose power was revived in the 1930s) and Japan. The latter four nations all had limited basing structures in this period. Hence, there was a low correlation between national power and basing networks, though Britain’s case illustrated a significant remaining correlation with maritime power alone, if not overall industrial leadership. Hence, basing remained largely based on conquest and colonial control. Only in the late 1930s did security assistance (the Lend-Lease Agreement as an example) begin to become a vital instrument of diplomacy, related to basing

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access, with Germany’s access in the Balearic and Canary Islands and Japan’s access to bases in Siam being additional examples. There was a dearth of longterm structural alliances during this period, hence, also, only limited provision of basing access between sovereign states, particularly within Europe. Even on the eve of World War II, there was little inter-national provision of permanent basing access among the powers, large and medium, in Europe. This resulted largely from the lack of ideological cement to inter-nation alignments. Of course, as had been the case before World War I, most of what we now call the Third World was under colonial control, excepting much of Latin America and a few cases such as Iran, Afghanistan, Siam and Saudi Arabia. Hence, there was little room for basing diplomacy involving the major powers and (arms dependent) smaller nations. As it happens, there was no provision of bases to major powers in Latin America. Sensitivity to issues of sovereignty ruled out U.S. bases, and the U.S.’s continued enforcement of the old Monroe Doctrine made it unlikely European powers or Japan could obtain access there, the periodic rumors of impending German access to air bases in Brazil notwithstanding. (Brazil received arms during this period both from the U.S. and Germany and Italy.) Again, technological change provided the impetus for new types of basing access. The advent of combat aircraft and long-range staging of transport aircraft, the advent of the submarine as a major weapons platform and the advent of new communications and intelligence technologies all brought the requirements for new forms of basing access.

6

Bases during the Cold War The bipolar base race

Before 1940, the U.S. basing structure had been restricted to a small number of colonial possessions and satraps, in Puerto Rico, Cuba, the Philippines, Hawaii, Wake Island and the Panama Canal Zone. The Lend-Lease Act added a string of bases in British and Canadian territories along the U.S. Atlantic littoral, in Labrador, Newfoundland, Bermuda, the Bahamas, Antigua, Trinidad and British Guyana. Then at the start of World War II, the U.S. established forward access in Greenland, Iceland, the Azores, Mexico (Acapulco) and Ecuador (the Galapagos Islands). By the end of the conflict the U.S. had access to a near-global network of facilities in Europe, Asia and the Middle East. The Soviet Union, by contrast, had basing access only within its contiguous Eurasian empire, added to by the war’s end by access all over Eastern Europe and in Mongolia. Britain, France and the Netherlands – also to a lesser degree World War II neutrals Spain and Portugal – regained control over colonial empires and related basing access after the war, only to see them gradually wither with the decolonization process between 1945 and around 1970. Japan and Germany lost everything they had. By the late 1940s, the U.S. and the USSR were fully engaged in what would become a global struggle for influence and access, in which access to bases was to play a pivotal role, given the expectation of an inevitable “World War III.” That competition accelerated after 1955, outside the bounds of the contiguous Soviet empire and, importantly, had several features, but which were altered across several identifiable, if not neatly bounded, phases of this competition. They were: •

• •

The importance of Western, mostly British, colonial possessions for U.S. basing access in the early Cold War period, gradually fading in importance over time up to around 1970. The increasing importance of alliances, ideological ties and security assistance in determining the patterns of U.S. and Soviet basing access. The spatial configuration of “heartland” vs. “rimland” as depictive of the U.S.–Soviet “base race,” with the U.S. establishing a ring of bases around the Sino-Soviet Eurasian heartland, and the Soviets gradually leapfrogging the rimland via ideological client states and arms transfers. The configuration

Bases during the Cold War 95

•

•

•

•

was gradually altered towards a more inter-penetrated basis, with rivals’ bases in proximity in various regions. The increasing importance in the “base race” of technical or C3I or “ISR” facilities, as supplementary to “traditional” naval and air bases: communications, space-related, ballistic missile defense, maritime detection, nuclear detection, signals and photoreconnaissance intelligence etc. A reduction in the number of bases required by superpowers as a result of technological development, i.e., longer-range aircraft, tanker refueling, the increased amount of firepower packed into planes and ships, nuclear ship propulsion etc. Towards the end of the Cold War and previewing the new world after 1991, a newer geopolitical focus on the Persian Gulf and the “arc of crisis” running from the East African Horn to Central and South Asia. A two-layered situation in which the bipolar rivals required basing access for nuclear deterrence and for conventional power projection, but with these functions often being combined in given basing facilities.

In the period immediately following the end of World War II, the U.S. was faced with decisions about how far down to draw the enormous basing network it had developed during World War II. At least one major article in Foreign Affairs during this period pointed out the history of American weakness in this area before World War II, and advocated that in line with its new powers and responsibilities that the U.S. should retain a global basing structure after the war.1 Of course, not all the countries that had hosted U.S. bases during the war were willing to continue to do so; Brazil, for instance, insisted on U.S. withdrawal in consonance with the altered conditions. During the immediate postwar period, however, before the main thrust of decolonization acquired full force, the U.S. was able to rely on the bases provided primarily by the British, but also the French, Dutch and Portuguese empires.2 These empires unraveled only gradually over a 25-year or so period. This provided the U.S. access to a plethora of air and naval bases: Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, the Suez Canal Zone, Aden, Libya (Wheelus Air Force Base), Gan in the Maldives Islands, Mombasa, Simonstown in South Africa, Freetown, Singapore, Hong Kong, etc., added to by access to other facilities in Canada and Australia. France’s remnant empire allowed for some U.S. access as well, particularly important in the 1950s, regarding bomber bases and communications facilities in Morocco. During the period after 1945, of course, the U.S. occupied Germany and Japan, and had free access to bases all over occupied Europe, in France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Italy, Greece and Turkey. In the Central Pacific, the U.S. took over the former Japanese League of Nations mandates in the Caroline, Mariana and Marshall Islands, with few restrictions on their use for bases. In the early 1950s there was the full onset of the Cold War, the Korean War, and NSC-68 as the formalization of the containment policy. Importantly, there was also the construction by the U.S. of a network of formal alliances, both

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multilateral and bilateral, that formed a physical barrier around what had come to be called the Sino-Soviet bloc after 1949, a barrier extending around Eurasia from Ireland and Norway around to Japan. There was NATO, CENTO (the Baghdad Pact) and SEATO, the first two hinged on Turkey, the latter two on Pakistan, abetted by ANZUS and the bilateral defense pacts with Japan, South Korea (after 1950) and Taiwan (after 1950).3 Arms transfers and other forms of security and economic assistance underpinned all of these alliances, and with them went a very permissive and comprehensive basing structure for the U.S., in effect in exchange for security against the perceived menace of Soviet and Chinese expansionism, both in terms of possible military attack and internal subversion. The physical structure of this basing network was neatly reflective of a rimland defense posture around Eurasia à la the geopolitical formulations of Mahan and Spykman.

Functions of the U.S. Cold War basing system As the Cold War evolved in the 1950s and 1960s, the functions of the U.S. global basing structure came to be divided along the lines of nuclear deterrence and conventional deterrence and power projection. The latter category further subsumed the use of bases for direct military interventions, arms resupply during conflict, coercive diplomacy (“gunboat diplomacy”) and “presence” (showing the flag).4 The initial use of forward bases came with the stationing of B-29 bombers in the U.K. in the late 1940s. Following that was the stationing, in the 1950s, of B47 “Reflex Force” bombers in the U.K., Spain and Morocco.5 Shortly after that, the B-52 bombers were introduced as the backbone of SAC, and they were all based along the northern rim of the continental U.S., in Maine, New Hampshire, upstate New York and Michigan. But, they required tanker refueling, bases for which were established in Greenland (Thule), Canada (Gander), Iceland (Keflavik) and in the U.K. Additionally, numerous bases in Europe and elsewhere were designated as recovery bases for the bombers should they exit the USSR after a bombing raid. Later in the Gulf War, forward based tactical aircraft (FBS) – F-4s, F-16s, and F-15s – were configured for nuclear weapons, based mostly in Germany, but able to mount missions from other bases in Europe, in Iceland, the Netherlands, Italy and Turkey.6 Additionally, F-111E bombers based in the U.K. were deployed as nuclear attack aircraft that could reach into the Soviet Union. Nuclear armed attack aircraft were also based in South Korea and the Philippines, capable of reaching the USSR and China. Tanker aircraft based on Guam, Okinawa, Japan and the Philippines could also serve in relation to nuclear-armed aircraft. In the late 1950s, in response to the “missile scare,” i.e., the looming threat of Soviet ICBM deployments ahead of similar U.S. deployments, the U.S. based medium-range ballistic missiles, Thor and Jupiter, in the U.K., Italy and Turkey. In Asia, Matador and Mace land-based missiles were deployed in Okinawa and

Bases during the Cold War 97 Taiwan as a deterrent vis-à-vis China and the Soviet Far East.7 And then, in the 1980s, the U.S. forward deployed Pershing II and ground-launched cruise missiles (GLCMs) in several Western European states – Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, U.K. – to counter the menace of Soviet SS-20s being targeted on Western Europe, which deployments were drawn down after the signing of the INF Treaty with the USSR. Nuclear-armed U.S. naval forces also made extensive use of overseas facilities. American “boomers,” submarines mounting long-range SLBMs, were long based at Holy Loch, Scotland and Rota, Spain, in addition to Guam. These forward deployments allowed the U.S. to negotiate a SALT II Treaty with the USSR that gave the latter a larger number of SSBNs, somewhat balanced out by the U.S. having those overseas facilities that allowed for keeping relatively more SSBNs “on station” at a given time. Finally, nuclear armed SSNs, attack submarines, whose main intended function was to hunt Soviet SSBNs, were based overseas at Faslane, Scotland, La Maddalena on Italy’s Sardinia and Sasebo in Japan in proximity to known major transit routes for Soviet submarines. And, lastly, U.S. carriers (CVNs) with nuclear armed aircraft and other surface ships carrying nuclear weapons made frequent stops for replenishing at numerous overseas ports, though that was sometimes a political problem in nuclear-phobic Japan. U.S. nuclear-armed CVNs operated out of Yokosuka in Japan, Subic Bay in the Philippines and Naples, Italy. Electronic intelligence aircraft prowled along the Soviet borders and coasts to “tickle” Soviet radars and to plan possible routes for U.S. bombers. U-2 and SR71 surveillance aircraft were used, particularly in the case of the former up to 1960, to monitor Soviet construction of ICBM missile silos and nuclear test sites. The U-2s earlier were based at Mildenhall in the U.K., Bodo in Norway, Wiesbaden in West Germany, Incirlik in Turkey, Peshawar in Pakistan and Atsugi in Japan; the SR-71s mostly in the U.K., but deployable to other bases.8 Some other air and naval basing functions also related to nuclear deterrence. The U.S. had an elaborate network of P-3 Orion naval air bases in relation both to surface and sub-surface detection of Soviet ships, with a focus on ASW.9 Around the Indian Ocean littoral, P-3s were flown out of Masirah in Oman, for instance, Mogadishu in Somalia (after 1978), Singapore and Australia’s west coast. Sigonella in Sicily was used as a major P-3 base for monitoring the movements of Soviet submarines in the Mediterranean. Other P-3 bases have been Embelzebil/ Nairobi (Kenya), Tahkli (Thailand), Djibouti, earlier in the Seychelles and Bandar Abbas in Iran during the Shah’s reign, Misawa and Iwakuni in Japan, Cubi Point in the Philippines and Dakar in Senegal. Then, TACAMO aircraft based in, among other places, Bermuda, were utilized to trawl communications wires through the ocean to communicate with U.S. nuclear submarines.10 Regarding conventional power projection capability, the U.S. also utilized a massive network of overseas bases, again for purposes of conventional deterrence (tripwires), arms resupply, coercive diplomacy and presence. Sometimes but not always, these deployments involved co-location at bases utilized in relation to nuclear deterrence.

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First and foremost was the long-term, stable deployment of ground forces in Europe and Asia, primarily in Germany, South Korea and Japan, but also in Italy and Belgium. That involved barracks, training grounds, maintenance depots, hospitals, etc., in relation to large-unit deployments of corps and divisions; likewise, the deployment of protective surface-to-air missiles to defend these installations. The largest was with the Seventh Army in Germany, amounting at its peak to some 330,000 troops, mostly in Bavaria, Hesse, Baden Wurtemberg and Rhineland Pfaltz, reduced to below 100,000 after the end of the Cold War. In Italy, a combat brigade was long deployed near Vicenza to bolster the Italian army and in relation to a possible Soviet thrust through Austria into Italy. In the Far East, the U.S., after the end of the Korean War, long deployed around 40,000 troops in South Korea, mostly along the DMZ and around the capital city, Seoul. There was a threat by the Carter Administration to reduce or eliminate these deployments, which did not eventuate, in response to the growing disparity in economic might between the two Koreas. In Japan, more than 40,000 troops were long deployed, mostly Army and Marine units on the island of Okinawa, co-located with extensive deployment of combat aircraft, tankers and transports. Later, after the end of the Cold War, this deployment became a hot issue within Japan, and consideration was given to moving the troops to the Japanese mainland.

U.S. Navy surface fleet bases11 The U.S. Navy, throughout the Cold War, utilized a number of major and minor bases for its surface fleets, most importantly, for aircraft carrier battlegroups. Several British ports were regularly used. Before France’s withdrawal from NATO’s military structure in the 1960s, Villefranche was a frequent port of call for U.S. ships, as were Barcelona, Livorno, Rota, Piraeus, Souda Bay on Crete and Izmir in Turkey, the latter a regional naval headquarters. Naples and nearby Gaeta provided a homeport and headquarters for the U.S. Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean Sea. In the Persian Gulf, even well before the Iran–Iraq and Desert Storm conflicts, the U.S. homeported a small flotilla and had a headquarters for its MIDEASTFOR in Bahrain. Naval deployments in and around the Persian Gulf were upgraded in the late 1980s. Mombasa in Kenya and Djibouti then became ports used frequently by the U.S. Navy. In the Far East, Yokosuka in the Tokyo Bay was long a hub of the U.S. Seventh Fleet, with its extensive drydocking capacity that could handle large nuclear-powered carriers. Sasebo on the Sea of Japan also hosted USN surface vessels as well as attack submarines. And up to the end of the Cold War, Subic Bay in the Philippines was another U.S. Navy main base, which was used to support operations in Vietnam and elsewhere in Southeast Asia. Then, during the 1980s, the Philippines began to eliminate U.S. use of its long-held naval and air bases. The U.S. considered replacement bases variously at Guam, Taiwan, Thailand and Australia, finally settling on extensive utilization of Singapore’s

Bases during the Cold War 99 Table 2 Main and secondary surface-ship and submarine operating bases of the U.S. Navy, as of late 1980s Host nation and base For surface ships Japan Yokosuka

Sasebo

White Beach (Okinawa) occasional use by SSNs. Taiwan Kaohsiung Guam (U.S. overseas possession) Apra

Philippines Subic Bay

Australia Cockburn Sound

Thailand Sattahip Hong Kong Singapore Sembawang

Description

Major navy base, HQ for U.S. Naval Forces Japan and homeport for aircraft carrier Midway and about ten other 7th Fleet ships, available for contingencies in West Pacific; also used by nuclear attack submarines; extensive dock facilities, naval munitions maintenance and storage, naval hospital, ship repairs including largest USN drydock west of CONUS; supply depot. Base used jointly with Japan; naval ordnance facility, docking storage facilities for 7th Fleet; homeport for a nuclear attack submarine, drydock capacity for aircraft carriers, large-scale naval fuel storage, munitions storage for USMC. Berthing and storage for 7th Fleet ships, Occasional port use by U.S. ships. Major naval base; ship repairs, logistics wharf, explosives and fuel storage; formerly Polaris homeport for eight SSBNs; patrol boats and mine flotilla based here. Major USN base, HQ for U.S. Naval Forces, Philippines, major ship repair facility with four floating drydocks which can accommodate all but largest aircraft carriers; piers and other support facilities – support 7th Fleet operations throughout West Pacific and Indian Ocean; 60 percent of all 7th Fleet repairs performed here. Australian base, can accommodate four submarines and four destroyers; possible expansion to accommodate carriers; U.S. considered homeporting a destroyer here; mostly potential U.S. base, offered earlier as such by hosts; port calls at Hobart, Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Darwin. Military port constructed by U.S.; major port of entry for military supplies to U.S. bases in Thailand; peaked at end of Vietnam War. Periodic port calls. Some overhauls, reprovisioning for USN ships, potential for expanded use.

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Bases during the Cold War

Table 2 continued Host nation and base Sri Lanka Colombo Trincomalee Djibouti Reunion Somalia Berbera Mogadiscio Oman Muscat (Mina Qaboos) Mina Raysutt Masirah Bahrain Al Jufair

Kenya Mombasa Diego Garcia

Mauritius Azores (Portugal) Ponta Delgada Spain Rota

Description Alleged use by U.S. for R&R. Port calls. Port calls by U.S. Indian Ocean task force; refueling and reprovisioning, no shore leave; U.S. leases fuel storage for own use. Port calls. Some use by U.S. Indian Ocean task force; possible storage of matériel for rapid deployment force. U.S. improved facilities, port visits; possible storage of equipment and supplies for Central Command. Restricted USN use by Indian Ocean task force; contingent use for Central Command in Persian Gulf crisis. Restricted U.S. use. Port calls. U.S. took over British facilities in 1949; now homeport for “Mideast Force” of four destroyers, communications, storage, barracks, berth, hangars, co-use of adjacent airfield; resupply of Indian Ocean task force; low-key use because of political problems; quiet access for greatly expanded U.S. presence in 1987. U.S. port visits; possible pre-positioning of matériel for use in Southwest Asia. U.S. naval support facilities; berths Central Command’s matériel storage ships; lagoon dredged to create sufficient anchorage for a carrier battle group. Rumored USN port visits; R&R and reprovisioning. Fuel storage; breakwaters; frequent visits by NATO warships. Major naval base; also airfield and communications station; major repair capabilities; can berth aircraft carriers; former Polaris SSBN base; fuel depot; weather station; naval hospital.

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101

Table 2 continued Host nation and base Italy Naples Gaeta Greece Souda Bay Athens//Piraeus Turkey Istanbul Izmir Antalya Portugal Lisbon Israel Haifa Tunisia Tunis Egypt Alexandria Sudan Port Sudan Cuba Guantanamo Bay

Panama Rodman Naval Station Balboa For submarines United Kingdom Holy Loch Japan Yokosuka, Sasebo Italy La Maddalena

Description Major support complex for U.S. 6th feet; HQ for attack submarines; homeport for destroyer tender, communications centre. Main base; homeport for flagship of U.S. 6th fleet, refueling facilities. NATO naval base; anchorage large enough for entire 6th fleet; extensive underground fuel and munitions storage. U.S. use of commercial port facilities increasingly in jeopardy during Papandreou regime. USN port visits. USN port visits. USN port visits. USN port visits. Periodic USN port visits. USN port visits. USN port visits, periodically. USN port visits. USN port visits, training and exercises; naval air station, drydock, sheltered anchorage; naval hospital; in reality mostly a political bargaining chip. Fleet support, logistics, small craft training facility. Naval ship repair facility. SSBN forward base, homeport for ten Poseidon’s; submarine tender permanently berthed; large floating drydock. (See previous mention.) Homeport for submarine tender; base for patrols by SSNs in Mediterranean.

Source: Compiled from SIPRI data and the many references cited for this chapter.

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Sembawang facility, which provided the U.S. Navy with extensive drydocking capability as well as a good location in relation to possible flashpoints both in East Asia and the Persian Gulf area. Elsewhere in Asia, during the bulk of the Cold War, the U.S. Navy made use of Australian ports on both coasts, visited ports in Indonesia and (earlier on) Taiwan, and made extensive use of the Thai port at Sattahip during the Vietnam War, during which the South Vietnamese port of DaNang was frequently used. The accompanying table details the USN’s basing net as of the mid-to-late 1980s.

U.S. Air Force bases12 In relation to possible theaters of combat, throughout the bulk of the Cold War, the U.S. Air Force (USAF) made extensive use of a network of permanent and standby bases, most of them in Western Europe and the Far East in proximity to major ground force deployments. In Germany, that long involved the major air bases at Bitburg, Ramstein, Spangdahlem, Zweibrucken, Sembach et al., at which were deployed the USAFs frontline fighters, earlier on the F-4s, later on the F-15s and F-16s. Additionally in Europe there were the major air bases at Keflavik in Iceland, Sosterberg in the Netherlands, Aviano in Italy, Torrejon, Zaragoza and Moron in Spain, and Incirlik in Turkey. Additionally, the USAF had deployed during the latter part of the Cold War some 290 combat aircraft in the U.K. In addition to the 150 F111E/Fs deployed as a nuclear strike force, that involved EF-111 Raven electronic warfare aircraft, A-10s, RF-46 reconnaissance aircraft at several sites: Lakenheath, Alconbury, Upper Heyford, Woodbridge and Bentwaters. Finally, tactical aircraft were routinely rotated forward to bases in Italy and Turkey, while a host of other bases in NATO were designated as co-located host bases available for crises, coercive diplomacy or outright war – there were several of these in eastern Turkey in proximity to Middle Eastern danger zones. In Asia, the USAF had forward fighter bases in Japan, the Philippines and South Korea. F-15s, F-16s and RF-4Cs were based at main bases at Yokota and Misawa, Marine Corps Harriers at Iwakuni. There were F-4 E/G deployments at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines. In South Korea, F-4Es, RF-43s, F-16s and A-10s were stationed at the major air bases at Osan, Kunsan and Taegu. In relation to conventional as well as nuclear scenarios, the USAF permanently stationed KC-135 A/Q and KC-10A tankers in a number of places to deal with interventions or arms resupply operations: in the U.K. (Mildenhall, Fairford), Spain (Zaragoza), the Philippines (Clark AFB), Okinawa (Kadena), Diego Garcia, Iceland (Keflavik) and Guam. Thule in Greenland and Goose Bay and Harmon in Canada were used for similar purposes. Still earlier, up to 1963, SAC’s KC-97s were based in Canada at Namao, Churchill, Cold Lake and Frobischer – some of these later were designated for dispersal and refueling operations. The USAF has also made extensive use of overseas bases for transport aircraft, often times ad hoc in relation either to routine staging of personnel or matériel or to crises.

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Most of the primary U.S. aircraft for long-range lift operations – C-141s, C5A/B, more latterly C-17s – have been based in the U.S., though they way be dispersed for contingencies. But the USAF also long had numerous squadrons of C-130s designated for tactical purposes (i.e., with shorter ranges and able to utilize shorter runways). Some were based overseas at Rhein-Main (West Germany), Howard AFB (Panama), Mildenhall (U.K.), Clark AFB (the Philippines), Yokota (Japan) and Kadena (Okinawa). Sometimes these aircraft may have used overseas facilities for tactical purposes – the Iran hostage raid was conducted by C-130s based in Egypt. In 1973, U.S. transport aircraft engaged in the arms resupply effort on behalf of Israel made critical use of the Lajes air base in the Portuguese-owned Azores Islands. In 1990–1991, USAF transport aircraft had extensive access to airfields along routes to the Middle East both via the Atlantic and Europe, and via the Pacific and Southeast Asia, where that access became domestic political issues in Thailand and India. In the post-9/11 conflict in Afghanistan, U.S. transport aircraft were staged via Eastern Europe and utilized bases in the former Soviet Central Asian states of Uzbekistan, Tadzhikistan and Kyrghizstan. We shall return to the link here with aircraft overflight rights. During the latter part of the Cold War, the U.S. utilized some overseas bases for its Airborne Warning and Control Systems (AWACS), a battle management aircraft often used for coercive diplomacy as a modern form of “gunboat diplomacy.” Earlier in the Cold War, indeed, it had deployed overseas other electronic warfare aircraft (ECM and ECCM), for instance, RC-135 CONVENT/ ELINT aircraft for monitoring radars and telemetry had been based at RAF Mildenhall, Hellenikon in Greece and Kadena in Okinawa. The EC-135, a modified KC-135 Stratotanker, was used as a radio and telemetry intercept aircraft, and four of these “Silk Purse” planes were based at Mildenhall. In the latter part of the Cold War, USAF EF-111 Ravens were based in Spain and Turkey (Diyarbakir). The AWACS themselves were home-based well back from potential lines of confrontation, so as to mitigate the chances of preemptive strike. Some were based at Keflavik in Iceland in relation to the crucial G-I-UK Gap, others at Geilenkirchen in Germany, and several in Japan. Also used as forward AWACS operating bases were Trapani in Italy, Konya in Turkey and Oerland in Norway. A NATO command center at Maisieres in Belgium controlled NATO AWACS and British Nimrod early warning systems. Still other AWACS were sold to Saudi Arabia but operated there with U.S. crews.

Aircraft overflights13 One of the less visible forms of foreign military presence, also one which involves movable and transitory presences, is that of aircraft overflight privileges. It is a form of external access. This occasionally crucial matter of aircraft overflight privileges involves a complex range of practices and traditions, some of which were, in an overall

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sense, altered by time in an era of increasingly “total” warfare, diplomacy and ideological rivalries. In parallel with – and closely bound up with – what has been wrought by nations’ increasing insistence upon extension of sovereign control further outward from coastlines (now more or less institutionalized by 200-mile Exclusive Economic Zones – EEZs), the trend here during the Cold War was towards tightened restrictions on overflights. In the past – and in some cases continuing to the present – some nations have allowed others more or less full, unhindered and continuous overflight rights (perhaps involving only pro forma short-term notices, i.e., filing of flight plans). In other cases, however, where political relations are weaker or not based on alliances, ad hoc, formal applications for permission to overfly must be made well ahead of time, which may or may not be granted depending upon the purpose and situation, be it routine or crisis. It is to be stressed that the day-to-day diplomacy of overflight rights is a very closed and obscure matter, albeit of often crucial importance. We have little data – the subject periodically emerges to prominence during crises such as the 1986 U.S. raid on Libya. Of course, it is precisely when urgent military operations are involved that the subject acquires the most importance. Nowadays, of course, well past the introduction of radar and its widespread global distribution, few overflights can be made on a covert basis, as was common before World War II, when detection depended primarily on visual observation from the ground. Not only “host nation” radar, but now also the superpowers’ satellite reconnaissance makes such “covert” activities almost impossible, particularly if a small nation has access to information from one of the superpowers, be it on a regular or ad hoc basis. This in turn may have had important ramifications for intra-Third World rivalries, specifically, regarding the balance of diplomatic leverage involved. Nations inclined, for instance, to provide overflight rights in connection with a U.S. airlift to Israel knew that Soviet satellite reconnaissance would provide information about that to Arab governments. That was a powerful deterrent. Some overflights were made without permission (as with the respective use by the United States and the USSR of U-2 and MiG-25 reconnaissance flights), overtly or with a tacit or resigned wink by the overflown nation. Often a nation whose airspace is violated will not openly complain for fear of international or domestic embarrassment over its impotence, or untoward diplomatic repercussions with a strong power. Hence, the USSR is thought to have overflown Egypt and Sudan, among others, without permission in supplying arms to Ethiopia during the 1977–1978 Horn War, earlier, its MiG-25 and Tu-95 reconnaissance aircraft apparently flew with impunity over Iran’s airspace. The United States is thought to have threatened overflights in some places for future arms resupply of Israel, if it should be utterly necessary. More recently during the Gulf War, and the Afghan and Iraq wars, this became a big issue in numerous places. During the Gulf War, the U.S. and its allies were allowed overhead access almost everywhere, including ex-Warsaw Pact states in Eastern Europe. In the Afghan war, the U.S. had good overhead

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access all over Europe, in the Caucasus and Central Asia and in and around the Persian Gulf excepting, of course, Iraq and Iran. Pakistan, politically crosspressured, allowed U.S. overflights by bombers coming from Diego Garcia and from aircraft carriers stationed in the Arabian Sea. During the Iraq war, however, the U.S. did have some problems with Switzerland, Syria and Iran.

Nuclear-related bases14 The utilization of overseas facilities in connection with the superpowers’ nuclear competition began immediately after the close of World War II. During the late 1940s, prior to the Soviet Union’s development of a deployed nuclear military capability, the U.S. forward-based some nuclear-armed B-29 aircraft in the U.K. in an effort to deter feared Soviet advances in Europe. By 1950, B-29s were based at Brize Norton, Upper Heyford, Mildenhall, Lakenheath, Fairford, Chelveston and Sculthorpe. There were also reserve B-29 bases at other British bases. There were related depots at Burtonwood and Alconbury, and also related LORAN navigational facilities at Angle, Pembrokeshire and in the Hebrides. That provided a clear first-strike deterrent capability for the U.S. well into the 1950s. During the 1950s, the B-47 bombers became the backbone of SAC, and while their effective ranges were greatly extended by the aerial-refueling techniques then emerging, the U.S. then determined on forward deployment to enhance its chances for penetration and to lessen its vulnerability to a Soviet first-strike. This so-called “reflex force” rotated between U.S. home bases and those in the U.K. (Fairford, Upper Heyford), Morocco (Sidi Slimane, Benguerir, Ben Slimane, Nouasseur), Spain (Torrejon, Zaragoza, Moron de la Frontera), Greenland (Thule) and Goose Bay, Labrador. (F-84 fighters used as bomber escorts were also based at Nouasseur until U.S. access to Morocco was lost in 1963.) Related U.S. tankers (then mostly KC-97s) were based primarily at Thule, Greenland and Goose Bay, Labrador, and also at several other Canadian bases: Namao, Churchill, Harmon, Cold Lake and Frobischer. Though the subsequently deployed B-52s which began entering inventories in 1955 did not require forward main basing, they too utilized trans-Arctic tanker facilities (including one at Sondestrom in Greenland) as well as contingency recovery bases in Spain and elsewhere. The Soviet Union did not utilize forward strategic-bomber facilities during this period. Indeed, early Soviet bombers, such as the 4500-km range Tu-4, could only reach the U.S. Pacific northwest from Siberia and, even then, by conceding several hours’ warning time because of U.S. radar coverage in Alaska. During this period, and for a long time thereafter, the U.S. also relied on foreign access for strategic defense, primarily in Canada, Greenland and Iceland – that involved the DEW Line, Mid-Canada and Pinetree Line strings of electronic listening posts, all under the U.S. Air Defense Command, which worked closely with SAC. In addition, some U.S. interceptor aircraft were deployed at Canadian bases such as Goose Bay, and at bases in Greenland and Iceland, for

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perimeter early defense, well forward of the large-scale interceptor deployments around major U.S. urban areas. By the late-1950s, Soviet missile developments had rendered somewhat obsolete the three-layered radar early-warning system across the Canadian Arctic, which had been constructed to provide several hours’ warning of bomber attacks. To cope with the missile threat, the U.S. built, beginning around 1958, the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS), the three hinges of which were in Fairbanks (Alaska), Thule (Greenland) and Fylingdales Moor (Yorkshire, U.K.). In the mid- to late-1950s, the U.S. underwent its famed “missile-gap scare,” following the Soviet Union’s initial testing of IRBMs and ICBMs, and the launching of the first “Sputnik” satellite. Coming before the deployments of Atlas, Titan and Minuteman ICBMs and Polaris SLBMs, this created a perceived “window of vulnerability” which, in turn, impelled the short-term solution of U.S. installation of IRBMs in Europe adjacent to the Soviet Union. Specifically, this involved emplacements in 1958 of 60 2400-km range Thor missiles in the U.K. at 20 bases, with headquarters at Great Driffield, North Luffenham, Hemswell and Feltwell, 30 Jupiter missiles in Italy (at Gioia del Colle) and 15 Jupiters in Turkey, installed in 1961 at Cigli Air Base (these were removed as part of the deal in which the USSR removed IRBMs and also IL-28 aircraft from Cuba, after the Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962 – though the orders for their removal had apparently been given earlier). Late in 1960 the U.S. deployed its first Polaris submarines and then its longrange, counter-value Atlas and Titan ICBMs, thus quickly defusing the missilegap scare – though the forward-based IRBMs were to remain in place for an additional two to three years. Complementary to BMEWS, the U.S. developed early warning satellites under the MIDAS satellite program. This involved combined use of infrared sensors and telephoto lenses for immediate detection of missile-launching tracks and transmission of this information to U.S. decision-makers. Launched by Atlas/Agena D missiles, advanced MIDAS satellites deployed in 1969 could be “parked” in synchronous orbits, allowing for continuous coverage of the western USSR and the China-Siberia region as well as areas where Soviet submarines lurked in firing positions. This involved the critical data down-link in Australia at Nurrungar, a related control facility in Guam and an underwater cable terminal near Vancouver in Canada. One other key element of the strategic deterrence system came to depend upon overseas access: long-distance and protracted deployment of the Polaris nuclear-submarine force. The Polaris submarines were initially deployed early in the Kennedy Administration. The proportion of that fleet which the U.S. was able to deploy at any given time was enhanced by replenishment and repair facilities at Holy Loch, Scotland; Rota, Spain and at Guam. Indeed, the asymmetries which these facilities created vis-à-vis subsequent Soviet SSBN deployment allowed the U.S. to negotiate that part of the SALT I Treaty which gave the USSR a 62 to 44 advantage in strategic submarines, but which was claimed

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to be counterbalanced by the efficiencies accruing to the U.S. from its overseas replenishment facilities. In the early 1960s, after the brief U.S. missile-gap scare, the Soviet Union underwent a scare period of its own, as several U.S. strategic programs were phased in. To compensate, Moscow gambled with the introduction in 1962 of some 40 MRBMs into Cuba at several installations, precipitating the Cuban Missile Crisis. (One recent report claims that these missiles were not accompanied by nuclear warheads.) The history of that crisis bears no repeating here, but it is worth noting that only by the early 1960s did the Cuban revolution avail the USSR of its first valuable overseas assets applicable to the strategic nuclear equation. Henceforth, Cuba would become a very valuable Soviet base, its proximity to the U.S. providing irreplaceable assets related to intelligence, communications, naval replenishment and so on, along with contingent bomber recovery bases in the event of a major war. During the early postwar period, the U.S. made use of numerous nuclearrelated intelligence and communications facilities around the Eurasian periphery – directed against the USSR, China and North Korea – mostly in the SIGINT (ELINT and COMINT) categories. Earlier, both U-2 and other aircraft such as the RB-47 were flown from bases in Europe and Asia to “tickle” Soviet earlywarning radars and, in the case of the U-2s, to test radars well inside the USSR which might be of different types than the peripheral early-warning systems. By so doing, U.S. planners might ascertain weaknesses and ranges, and scan patterns in the Soviet radar network which could be valuable for planning the penetration routes for a nuclear-bomber attack. These exercises in low-level brinkmanship – apparently involving some mock raids mounted by U.S. units in Turkey and elsewhere – resulted in some serious incidents in which U.S. ferret aircraft were shot down and their crews killed or captured. Some flights originating at Brize Norton in the U.K. apparently traversed the entire Soviet Arctic coastline, emerging at the Barents Sea. The area between the Caspian Sea and the Sea of Azov was also apparently a focal point of U.S. surveillance missions utilizing Turkish and Iranian airspace, some staged originally from West Germany and Cyprus. U.S. use of ground-based SIGINT stations, obviously crucial to various aspects of nuclear deterrence, dates well back into the postwar period. One source reported that this had earlier involved some 40 stations in at least 14 countries, ranging from small, mobile field units to sprawling complexes such as the Air Force Security Headquarters in West Germany. These were said to have involved some 30,000 personnel, with a minimum of 4000 radio-interception consoles operated in such varied locales as northern Japan, the Khyber Pass in Pakistan and an island in the Yellow Sea off the coast of Korea. Further, these COMINT land stations had to be supplemented by numerous airborne and seaborne radio-interception facilities, particularly after Soviet and aligned nations’ military forces switched to VHF radios during the 1950s, after which adequate coverage demanded getting closer to transmitters and overcoming terrain features such as mountains. At any time, several dozen airborne

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listening posts were said to have been in intermittent operation, flying out of such bases as Kimpo Airfield in Korea, Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines, and many others. Added to these were some 12 to 15 spy ships, such as the illfated Pueblo and Liberty, which also presumably required access to foreign ports for replenishment.

Strategic nuclear forces: missile launchers and platforms15 Generally speaking, the late Cold War period saw the U.S. and the USSR left with only minimal dependence on foreign facilities – Soviet dependence was relatively less for their strategic nuclear launchers, involving the familiar triad of ICBMs, SLBMs and long-range bombers. Of course, this is not to ignore the fact, particularly as it pertained to U.S. forces, that some launchers designated as theater weapons could serve strategic purposes in that their warheads could have been delivered into the Soviet Union. All of the U.S. ICBMs (450 Minuteman IIs, 550 Minuteman IIIs and a few remnant Titan IIs which were phased out as the new MX-Peacekeeper was phased in) were housed in silos within the continental U.S. – they represented over 2100 accurate warheads. Similarly, the Soviet ICBM forces (448 SS-11s, 60 SS-13s, 150 SS-17s, 308 SS-18s, 360 SS-19s, 72 SS-25s), of some 1398 ICBMs with some 6354 warheads, were sited entirely within the USSR. The Soviet SSBN forces (983 SLBMs in 77 submarines, of which 944 SLBMs and 62 submarines were under the SALT Treaty; and 39 SLBMs on 15 submarines were outside it) were based entirely at Soviet homeland bases, in the Kola Peninsula area at Polyarny and Severomorsk, and at Petropavlovsk and Vladivostok in the Far East. No foreign bases were used for refueling, maintenance or crew changes. By contrast to the U.S. only some 15–20 Soviet submarines were normally away from their bases; perhaps 10–12 on station at any given time. The U.S. SSBN force, which earlier made extensive use of facilities at Holy Loch (Scotland), Rota (Spain) and at U.S.-owned Guam, utilized only the firstnamed of these, with its other three main bases in the continental U.S. at Kings Bay (Georgia), Bangor (Washington) and Charleston (South Carolina). The development of the longer-range Poseidon and Trident missiles (with ranges of 4000 miles) allowed for utilization of firing stations nearer U.S. bases and further from the USSR, hence reducing requirements for firing stations in the western Pacific (Guam) and in the Mediterranean (Rota). Little was publicly known about where these submarines patrolled, but they are thought to have transited to firing stations in the Arctic, North Atlantic and North Pacific oceans and in the Mediterranean Sea, with about 30 percent of the force on station on day-to-day alert, and a roughly equal proportion in transit or on training missions. The use of Holy Loch as a forward base (for submarines homeported at Groton, Connecticut) allowed more to be on station than otherwise would have been feasible, and it is also to be noted that 400 Poseidon warheads deployed on submarines operating out of Holy Loch were designated for

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NATO targeting, presumably either for theater targeting or for battlefield use along the Forward Line of Troops (FLOT) in central Germany. At the strategic level, the U.S. deployed some 260 long-range bombers (some 20 B-1Bs and some 240 B-52G/Hs) and some 55 medium-range FB-111A bombers. Most of the B-52s carried up to 20 ALCMs; others carried a similar number of short-range attack missiles (SRAMs); and some, armed with Harpoon missiles, were operational in a conventional mode. This bomber force, which carried over 5000 nuclear warheads, was mainbased at 19 air bases in 13 states and at Andersen AFB in Guam, but numerous dispersal (pre-attack or crisis) and recovery (post-attack) bases, or forward operating bases were involved. Some of these were outside the U.S., for instance in Canada at Cold Lake (Alberta), Goose Bay (Labrador), Namao (Alberta) and Whitehorse (Yukon); in Greenland at Sondestrom; in the U.K. at Brize Norton, Marham and Fairford; in Spain at Moron and Zaragoza. But numerous others, on the basis of ad hoc contingency planning could have been used in connection with numerous tanker bases – or their dispersal bases – at some of the abovementioned Canadian bases at Namao and Goose Bay; at Mildenhall and Fairford in the U.K.; Zaragoza in Spain; Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines; Kadena in Okinawa; Diego Garcia; Keflavik (Iceland); Guam; Thule (Greenland) and so on. The U.S. forward-based some 156 of the nuclear-armed F-111E/Fs in the U.K., which were actually tactical fighter bombers designated for missions in Central Europe. These were stationed at Upper Heyford and Lakenheath, which hosted some 72 and 84 aircraft respectively, involving in each case the storage of some 300 nuclear bombs. By comparison, the Soviet Union made little use of external facilities for its long-range strategic bomber force, which consisted of some 160 aircraft: 140 Tu-95 Bear A/B/C/G/Hs armed either with ALCMs or air-to-surface missiles, and 20 Mya-4 Bisons (these were superseded by the Blackjack strategic bomber). The same was true of the some 230 Backfire, Badger and Blinder Bombers – some of the former were assigned to Soviet long-range aviation. These strategic bombers utilized five northern staging and dispersal bases within the USSR from which attacks could be mounted on the U.S. Regarding forward emplacement of U.S. nuclear weapons, primarily in Europe, there were several distinct types of circumstance in which they were based, involving the issues of dual control or the two-key system, and the politics of nuclear basing on other nations’ soil. First, there was the actual forward basing of U.S. aircraft, missiles or artillery – fully manned by U.S. personnel involving organic U.S. military units but based on foreign soil and in circumstances in which ad hoc permission for actual combat would have been required. Next, there were the numerous circumstances in which other nations – West Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, Turkey, Greece etc. – deployed nuclear weapons on aircraft, missiles, howitzers and so on, but where the strictures of the nuclear non-proliferation regime dictated a U.S. custodial presence and the use of a two-key system, further implying a veto on actual use by either

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the U.S. or its nuclear partner. Some of these situations involved Allied nuclear systems based within the host nations’ borders as, for example, in Turkey or Germany, as with Belgium or Dutch nuclear-armed artillery. Some nations, such as Norway and Denmark, did not allow nuclear weapons or foreign military bases on their soil during peacetime. Others, such as Iceland, did not allow nuclear weapons on their soil, but had contingency provisions for forwardbasing of nuclear weapons for “wartime ASW operations.” The primary land-based U.S. theater weapons were the Pershing II and ground-launched cruise missiles later eliminated in connection with the INF Treaty. These were, of course, all foreign-based, involving the 108 Pershing (plus 12 spares) at several sites in West Germany (Heilbronn, Waldeide, Neckars-Ulm, Schwabisch-Gmund), and the already deployed and planned GLCMs there (at Woescheim), and in the U.K. (Greenham Common, Molesworth), Belgium (Florennes), the Netherlands (Woendsrecht) and Sicily (Comiso). Additionally, launcher repair facilities were identified at EMC Hansen, Frankfurt (West Germany) and at SABCA, Gossens, Belgium, and a missile storage site at Weilerbach in West Germany. Originally, this called for 464 GLCMs overall, based on 116 launchers, with perhaps nearly double that number of warheads, though by the time of the 1987 INF Treaty only some 309 missiles and 109 launchers had been deployed. The Pershing missiles with ranges capable of reaching well into the USSR, indeed, as far as Moscow, may have been perceived as having “strategic” implications, albeit based outside the U.S. Additionally, there were the remnant German Pershings under U.S. custodian control (with two warheads per launcher), with shorter reaches well short of being able to target the USSR proper (these too were eliminated under the INF accord). Otherwise, the U.S. based a considerable number of nuclear-capable aircraft forward in Western Europe, that is, those manned directly by USAF personnel, which involved the forward deployment of some 1700 nuclear bombs. These were, obviously, usable for tactical purposes along or directly behind the FLOT, but – particularly with the aid of aerial refueling – also capable of deep interdiction missions throughout Eastern Europe and well into the Soviet Union proper. Some 72 F-16 fighter-attack aircraft and some 140 nuclear bombs were stored at both Hahn and Ramstein air bases; at Spangdahlem, a similar number of F-16s with some 140 weapons were stored. At Aviano in Italy, some 200 weapons were said to have been stored in connection with nuclear-capable F-16s, previously rotated forward from Spain but later based in Italy. In Turkey, the base at Incirlik supported some 36 nuclear capable F-4s or F-16s which could be loaded with the weapons on quick-reaction alert after being rotated forward, while another base at Cigli, Izmir acted as a dispersal base for nuclear-capable aircraft. Of course, land-based aircraft were not the only forward-based U.S. nucleararmed aircraft. There were also U.S. aircraft carriers in the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. Typically, there were two carriers on station in the Mediterranean – utilizing ports such as Naples, Souda Bay, Rota – which could launch A-6E, A-7 and F/A-18 aircraft carrying nuclear weapons, with

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respective ranges of 3200, 2800 and 1000 km. With the capability to strike the Soviet homeland if within range, each carrier deployed over 100 nuclear bombs. As well as nuclear-armed aircraft, there were the numerous U.S. and other NATO nations’ ASW aircraft, involving the U.S. P-3C Orions and the British Nimrods. In a conflict, these would have been vital to NATO efforts at securing North Atlantic SLOCs against interdiction by Soviet attack submarines. U.S. and Dutch P-3Cs and British Nimrods were based at or staged through British bases at St. Mawgan and Machrihanish (the latter in the Strathclyde area of Scotland) – some 63 U.S. nuclear depth bombs were stored at each base. Additional U.S.-manned and operated P-3Cs with forward-stored nuclear depth charges were based at Keflavik, Iceland (48 bombs), Sigonella on Sicily (63 bombs) and Rota, Spain (32 bombs). Other U.S. P-3Cs were rotated through Andaya and Bodo in Norway, Souda Bay on Crete and Montigo, Portugal, while some 32 nuclear depth bombs were stored at Lajes in the Azores for wartime operations.

Soviet forward-based nuclear-capable aircraft16 According to the IISS, the USSR had several types of land-based strike aircraft capable of being configured with nuclear weapons, each of which could carry two nuclear bombs. These were the Su-7 Fitter A (80), the MiG-21 Fishbed L (135), the MiG-27 Flogger D/J (810), the Su-17 Fitter D/H (900) and the Su-24 Fencer (700) – a total of 2625 such aircraft. Of the 700 Fencers, 450 fell under the control of Strategic Aviation. Over 1000 Soviet tactical fighter aircraft were forward-based at a large number of facilities in the GDR, Czechoslovakia, Poland and Hungary. Nuclear-capable Su-24 Fencers were stationed at Szprotawa AB and Zagan AB in Poland, at Debrecen in Hungary and at Brand-Briesen AB in the GDR, in each case involving associated nuclear storage sites (the latter base was said to have been converted from Su-7s in 1982). In the GDR, nuclear-capable MiG-27 Flogger D/J regiments and nuclear-bomb storage sites were at Finsterwalde AB and Mirow-Rechlin Larz AB; Su-17 Fitter D regiments were located at Grossenhain AB, Neuruppin AB and Templin-Gross Dolln AB. Several of the non-Soviet WTO nations also forward deployed nuclearcapable aircraft, perhaps involving something like a two-key system, under Soviet custodianship. Czechoslovakia (50) and Poland (40) had Su-7 Fitters; Poland (40) Su-20 Fitter Cs and Bulgaria (45), Czechoslovakia (40) and the GDR (24) MiG-23 Flogger F/As. The IISS noted that the total actually available as nuclear-strike aircraft may have been lower than the figures shown. It is possible that the Soviet air force could itself have used these aircraft in a nuclear mode if war erupted. Outside the WTO area, the USSR also deployed some 16 Tu-16 Badger bombers in Vietnam, which were capable of nuclear missions, perhaps against China or the U.S. basing structure in the Philippines.

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The USSR also utilized several external bases for nuclear-capable ASW aircraft. Bear-F aircraft, for instance, utilized Cuban bases at San Antonio de los Banos and Havana’s Jose Marti airport. Nuclear-capable IL-38 May ASW aircraft regularly operated out of Aden and Al Anad in South Yemen, Asmara in Ethiopia, Okba ben Nafi in Libya and Tiyas in Syria.

Overseas “technical” facilities: intelligence, space and communications17 In a relative sense, and increasingly, the U.S.-Soviet global competition for basing access was centered on a variety of what, for want of a better term might be characterized as “technical” facilities, that is, those outside the traditional categories of air and naval bases and land-army garrisons and encampments. Most of these facilities may be subsumed under the broad headings of communications, intelligence and space-related activities. They include such disparate functions as satellite tracking, command and control; signals interception of rivals’ communications, radar signals, missile telemetry, and so on; underwater detection of submarines, accurate positioning of missile-firing submarines; spacebased ocean surveillance; nuclear-explosion detection; and a bewildering variety of functionally specific communications systems running along the entire spectrum from extra-low to ultra-high frequencies. The increasing importance of all these systems paralleled the extension of contemporary military activity to an increasingly integrated, three-dimensional game involving outer space, land and sea surfaces and the global undersea realms – submarines communicate via satellite with land-based headquarters; satellites and land-based SIGINT stations locate surface fleets by intercepting their radar emissions; satellite early warning is transmitted, variously, by ground terminals, underwater cables, via other satellites and so on. This advent of the importance of technical facilities gradually picked up speed before and after World War I. Before World War I, Britain developed an elaborate and unrivalled global network of underseas telegraph cables – by far the most important early precursor to modern “tech” facilities. At that time all of the key British overseas possessions were linked together by that network, providing advantages in early warning and command and control of naval forces, and in the ability to control and influence news broadcasting, an earlier form of “public diplomacy” used as an instrument of competition. Britain was not, of course, alone in constructing an elaborate underseas cable network, nor in its efforts at securing the required access points. According to one source, the United States in 1898 annexed Guam and Midway for the specific purpose of providing cable stations en route to the Philippines, decades before those islands would become important U.S. air bases.18 France and Germany also made efforts towards building global systems, but before World War I the latter came to rely more on wireless systems, despite the vulnerability of their communications to interception if decoded. By 1914 the Germans had wireless stations in Togoland, southwest Africa, Tanganyika, Kiung-chow, Yap,

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Rabaul, Nauru and Samoa, to abet what they knew would be a very vulnerable cable network should war break out.19 At the outset of World War I, Britain was able rapidly to sever all of the German underseas cables, while losing only a couple of its own cable stations temporarily, at Cocos and Fanning Islands.20 The redundancy built into Britain’s global system, abetted in 1914 by that of France, provided a strong strategic advantage throughout World War I, still one more result of “invisible” global naval superiority. Later, in 1919, the German cables were divided as war spoils among the allies as part of the Versailles settlement. Beyond World War I and up to World War II, increased importance was attached to technical facilities. Long-range radio communications developed apace and with them came the development by major powers of networks of transmitters, receivers, relay stations and so on. With that came the early development of radio interception facilities – before World War II, the U.S. worried about German acquisition of interception facilities in the politically unstable Caribbean area, for instance, in Haiti or Colombia.21 The U.S. breaking of the Japanese code before World War II (which provided what should have been a decisive, timely early warning about Pearl Harbor) serves as an additional precursor of subsequent intelligence activities, now far more institutionalized in organizations such as the U.S. National Security Agency (NSA). Japan, meanwhile, in violation of the Washington Naval Agreement, built covert communications facilities on some of its Central Pacific, League of Nations Mandate islands, providing an early problem of arms control verification.22 On the eve of World War II, the U.S. was beginning to install early warning radars in some of the bases acquired from the U.K. as part of the Lend-Lease Agreement.23 Gradually, one could see movement towards the central importance of C3I today – towards quick if not real-time communications and early warning, and the diminishing of human intelligence (HUMINT) as the core of intelligence collection.

U.S. communications24 The U.S. used a variety of communications systems and modes, stretching across the frequency spectrum from extremely-low frequency (ELF) to superhigh frequency (SHF); these variously utilized satellites, ground terminals, shipboard and submarine terminals and so on.25 These various frequencies involved trade-offs among a number of variables related to rate of data transmission, vulnerability to jamming, size of transmitter, distance capability, etc., and tended to be broadly specific for certain functions, that is, land-based tactical communications, those with submerged submarines, etc. The utilization of various communications modes changed constantly in response to new technological developments; correspondingly, the requirements for FMP access also changed. As ably outlined by Arkin and Fieldhouse, “In the field of electronic communications, each medium and frequency has advantages and disadvantages.”

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Varying by wavelength and hence frequency, a number of different paths for the four lowest frequency bands travel what are called “groundwaves” and they are useful for communications with ships far from land. Extremely-low frequency (ELF) waves (below 300 hertz) can penetrate water to hundreds of feet (perfect for submarine communications), while extremely-high frequencies (EHF) (above 30 gigahertz) have difficulty penetrating even a heavy rainstorm.26 Other than the medium (i.e., water or air), still other conditions determine the most suitable frequency to use. Size of transmitter is important – “for frequencies below the HF band, antennas are too large for ships or aircraft” – the ELF antennas or transmitters considered for emplacement in the northern U.S. were many miles long.27 Then, the higher the frequency the higher the data rate. The amount of power required also varies with frequency. For these reasons ELF is not suitable for large-volume commercial communications. There is another variable – reliability – in connection with possible interference, jamming or fasing.28 High frequency (HF) is widely used by the military – it is long-range, cheap, low-power, small and portable, but requires constant adjustments in specific frequencies to deal with atmospheric conditions,29 that is, shifting in the ionospheric layers and natural events such as solar flares. This can vary by day, season, location and so on, so that frequencies must be chosen to best suit the prevailing conditions. For these reasons and others – reliability, “crowding” of the frequency spectrum and the advent of computers and satellites (which operate at higher frequencies and data rates) – recent decades have seen a shift away from HF for military purposes. But, the vulnerability of satellites has led to renewed interest, particularly in connection with new technology, that is, “sounders,” solid-state transmitters and microprocessors which can allow for shifting frequencies in response to environmental changes. That interest is underscored by the fact that HF uses the ionosphere for transmission, a medium difficult to permanently interrupt. Finally, in the context of military anxieties about nuclear “black-out” caused by nuclear blasts during war, mobile or proliferated HF systems are considered one of the more robust types of communications.30 Among the HF systems used during the Cold War were SAC’s Giant Talk/Scope Signal III for strategic bombers, the air/ground/air Global Command and Control System network, the Mystic Star Presidential/VIP network and the Defense Communications System (DCS) “entry sites.” Very-low frequency (VLF) and low frequency (LF) are also considered relatively reliable in a nuclear environment and can penetrate sea water as well.31 Hence, for the U.S., a key system was GWEN (Ground Wave Emergency System), a grid of unmanned relay stations with LF transmitters and receivers hardened to withstand electromagnetic pulse (EMP).32 When fully proliferated, it used a system of “automatic diverse routing” so as to maximize imperviousness to interference even by a full-scale nuclear attack. Yet another robust system was “meteor burst communications,” using billions of ionized meteor trails to reflect very-high frequency (VHF) signals.33 This system would apparently benefit from the increased ionization caused by nuclear war.

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As an example of what was involved, we may look at some of the earlier global networks utilized by the U.S. for communicating with underwater submarines. Throughout most of the 1970s, the U.S. had eight Omega VLF facilities located overseas. Some of these were phased out beginning in the late 1970s and some were retained, despite their obsolescence, as backup systems. They were located at: Reunion (Mafate), operated by the French Navy; Trinidad and Tobago; Liberia (Paynesword); Australia (Woodside); Argentina (Golfo Nuevo, Trelev): Japan (Tsushima Island); and Norway (Bratland).34 Then there was the far larger global network of LORAN-D/C radionavigation systems, which were also utilized in connection with aircraft navigation. And as a sub-set, this further involved the Clarinet Pilgrim system in the Pacific, a shore-to-submarine network (four sites in Japan and one on Yap Island) that worked by superimposing data on the waves transmitted by LORAN-C. Some of these were operated by the U.S. Coast Guard, to a degree reflective of the mixed civilian and military navigation aid functions of the LORAN network (still earlier there were some systems designated as LORANA). And, as in the case of Omega, some were jointly operated with host-nation personnel. Among the numerous LORAN-C/D transmitters and monitoring stations overseas (there were many others in the U.S., including Alaska and Hawaii) were those shown in the table. In the latter part of the Cold War, as a replacement for Omega and LORANC, the U.S. installed its new satellite-based NAVSTAR global positioning system for submarines, which among other things, apparently involved the capability to provide SLBMs with corrective guidance after they surfaced. NAVSTAR’s control segment consisted of five monitor stations to “track passively all satellites in view and accumulate ranging data from the navigation signals.” That information was transmitted to the NAVSTAR Master Control Station at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California. The other stations used for tracking, telemetry, control and passive monitoring were at Ascension, Diego Garcia, Kwajalein and Guam, notably all islands controlled by the U.S. or the U.K. Whereas most communications with submarines are conducted along the LF spectrum, combatants will usually use HF (the corresponding intelligence interception facilities are HF direction finders, that is HF/DF). The U.S. had a considerable number of naval HF transmitters and receivers scattered about the globe, most of them near major naval facilities or near bodies of water heavily traversed by U.S. fleet units. They included those shown in Table 4. Regarding SAC “fail-safe” systems, involving “positive control,” meaning the bombers went ahead in a crisis only if given “executive instructions,” there was a global system of HF communications called “Giant Talk/Scope Signal III,” 14 stations giving flexible approach routes towards the USSR by B-52s or other aircraft with standoff ALCMs. These are shown in Table 5. The Air Force also had its AFSATCOM UHF network devoted particularly to strategic nuclear-related purposes. That utilized several foreign facilities, at

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Table 3 Location of known Loran-C/D transmitters and monitoring stations overseas Country

Location

Bermuda Canada

Witney’s Bay Cape Race (Newfoundland), Fox Harbor (Labrador), Montagu (Prince Edward Island), Port Handy (British Columbia), St. Anthony (New Brunswick), Sandspit (British Columbia), Williams Lake (British Columbia) Ejde (Faeroe Islands) Angissoq Keflavik, Sandur Crotone, Lampedusa, Sellia Marina Gesaski (Okinawa), Iwo Jima, Marcus Island, Tokachibuto (Hokkaido), Yokota AFB

Denmark Greenland Iceland Italy Japan Johnson Atoll (U.S. owned) Norway South Korea Spain Turkey U.K. FR Germany Micronesia Guam (U.S. owned)

Jan Mayen Island Changsan Estartit Kargabarun Sullum Voe (Shetland Islands) Sylt Yap Island Anderson AFB

Source: SIPRI data, Harkavy, Bases Abroad, p. 161.

Table 4 U.S. overseas HF receivers and transmitters Country

Location

Bermuda Diego Garcia Greece Guam Iceland Italy Japan Panama Philippines Portugal (Azores) Puerto Rico Spain U.K.

South Hampton

Source: SIPRI Data.

Nea Makri and Kato Souli Barrigada and Finnegayan Grindavik and Sandgerdhi Naples (a master station) and Licola Iruma, Kamiseya, and Totsuka Summit Capas Tarlac and St. Miguel Cinco Pincos (Terceira) and Vila Nova Sebana Seca, Isabella, and Aguada Guardemar del Segura and Rota Edzell and Thurso

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Table 5 Giant Talk/Scope Signal III stations Country

Location

Ascension Azores Greenland Guam Japan Okinawa Panama Philippines Spain Turkey U.K.

Lajes, Cinco Pincos Thule Anderson AFB, Barrigada, Nimitz Hill Owada, Tokorozawa, Yokota Kadena Howard and Albrook AFBs Clark AFB, Cubi Point, Camp O’Donnell Torrejon Incirlik RAF Croughton, Mildenhall, Barford St. John

Source: SIPRI data, Harkavy, Bases Abroad, p. 164.

Landstuhl in Germany, Clark AFB in the Philippines, on Guam and at Bagnoli in Italy and Diego Garcia. The Navajo FLTSATCOM system consisted of seven satellites parked in geosynchronous orbit all around the equator and provided worldwide coverage, except in the polar regions. These provided mostly for the U.S. Navy, communications by digitalized voice, teleprinter and other techniques, and operated at UHF. These satellites were also important hosts for AFSATCOM transponders. Indeed, according to one report, each host for AFSATCOM satellites had 23 channels, ten of which were allotted to the Navy for command of its air, ground and sea force, 12 to AFSATCOM for nuclearrelated communications, and one reserved for the National Command Authorities.35 One particularly important function for FLTSATCOM – along with the DSC’s satellites – was the relaying of data from SOSUS and SURTASS (surveillance towed array) hydrophone systems to the Central Shore Station or Acoustic Research Center at Moffett Field, California, “where it is integrated with data from other sources and processed by the ILLIAC 4 computer complex to provide a real-time submarine monitoring capability.”36 There is also realtime transmission of data and displays from ocean-surveillance satellites provided to U.S. surface and submarine fleets. FLTSATCOM utilized control or receiver sites. There were several in the U.S. at Norfolk, Wahiawa (Hawaii), Stockton, California and another at Finnegayan in Guam. Overseas, there were additional stations at Bagnoli, Italy and at Diego Garcia and an AN/MSC-61 system located at Exmouth, Northwest Cape, Australia.37 According to the U.S. Defense Communications Agency, the European AUTOSEVOCOM system consisted of about 225 wideband subscriber terminals homed on four AN/FTC-31 switches and 16 SECORDS providing secure voice service. Another 85 subscribers were provided worldwide secure voice access

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Table 6 Location of the main switching centers for the AUTOVON network Country

Location

Japan Okinawa Philippines Panama Spain U.K. FDR Germany

Fuchu, AS, Camp Drake (moved to Yokota) Grass Mountain or Ft Buckner Clark AFB Corozal Humosa Martlesham Heath, Hilingdon, RAF Croughton Schoenfield; Fieldberg, Donnersberg, Pirmasens, Langerkopf Coltano, Mt. Vergine Finnegayan

Italy Guam

Source: Defense Communications Agency, “Defense Communications System/European Communication Systems: Interoperability Baseline,” Washington, DC, 1 February 1981; and Jane’s Military Communications (Macdonald: London, 1981).

through 10 AUTOVON switches.38 Locations of the main switching center for the AUTOVON network are listed in Table 6. One of the major U.S. uses of overseas theater communications was that involved in the highly proliferated microwave/troposcatter systems used to link U.S. and other allied forces within the European and Pacific theaters. This in turn involved a number of sub-systems, perhaps the best known of which was the NATO ACE HIGH system within Europe. According to Jane’s: ACE HIGH is an 80-voice-channel trophospheric scatter/microwave link system which dates back to 1956 when SHAPE developed a plan for an exclusive communications system which would comprise the minimum essential circuits of early warning and alert and implementation of the tripwire retaliation strike plan. The network extends from northern Norway and through Central Europe to Eastern Turkey.39 All of the U.S. NATO allies hosted numerous troposcatter relay links – there were some 40 in West Germany, six in Belgium, eight in Greece, 16 in Italy, 15 in Turkey, and so on. (Earlier there were some 30 such links in France.)40 These types of link also ran from the continental U.S. via Greenland, Iceland, the Faeroes and the U.K. to Europe; indeed, they were originally designed as one link in the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWs). In Iceland, it is reported that each such North Atlantic Relay System (NARS) installation consisted of four large “billboard” troposcatter antennas.41 Parts of the troposcatter network were modernized as the Digital European Backbone System (DEBS). The transmission, relay and reception of strictly military and diplomatic messages does not exhaust the uses to which overseas facilities were put within the broad domain of communications. Basing diplomacy also entered the news in connection with broadcast communications. This took any of several forms, for instance, the major powers’ use of foreign territories for clandestine radio

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Table 7 Interconnections between ACE HIGH and DCS DCS

ACE HIGH

Mormond Hill (U.K.) Cold Blow Lane (U.K.) SHAPE (Belgium) Bonn (FRG) Aviano (Italy) Naples (Bagnoli, Italy) Izmir (Turkey Incirlik (Turkey)

Mormond Hill (U.K.) Maidstone (U.K.) Costeau (Belgium) Kindsbach (FRG) Aviano (Italy) Bagnoli (Italy) Izmir (Turkey) Adana (Turkey)

Sources: Defense Communications Agency, “Defense Communications System/European Communication Systems; Interoperability Baseline,” Washington, DC, 1 February 1981; and Jane’s Military Communications (Macdonald: London, 1981).

transmitters, particularly adjacent to rivals’ territories or those where civil wars were in progress. (In the 1987 U.S. Congressional Iran/“Contragate” hearings, information emerged about the CIA-run clandestine transmitters in Central America and in the Caribbean directed against Nicaragua and Cuba.) On a more overt basis, this involved, at least as pertained to the U.S. side, the global transmission network of the government’s Voice of America (VOA). There were Soviet, French and British counterparts. Access for VOA transmitters, even despite the absence of obvious military implications, was not always a simple matter. Soviet and other nations’ sensitivities to radio-broadcast intrusion were such that a nation hosting a VOA facility risked a degree of displeasure.42 For its short-wave broadcasts, the VOA had six main 500-kilowatt transmitters; additionally, a variety of some 100 antennas and relay stations in Asia, Africa and Central America. The VOA had overseas radio stations in Antigua, Thailand, Botswana, Greece (two), West Germany, the Philippines (two), Costa Rica, Sri Lanka, Morocco, Belize and the U.K. (and later in Israel). In 1984–1985, as the Central American crisis intensified, it was reported that Costa Rica and Belize had agreed to host VOA broadcast relay stations – in addition, VOA had obtained agreements to construct relay stations in Sri Lanka, Israel, Morocco and Thailand.

Intelligence43 During the Cold War the U.S. relied on a variety of technical methods for intelligence collection (i.e., other than HUMINT) which involved the use of overseas facilities. These involved the domains of imaging or photographic reconnaissance, signals intelligence, ocean surveillance, space surveillance and nuclear detonation and monitoring.44 Variously, cutting across these categories, this involved fixed land-based facilities, air bases and naval facilities. In some cases, the utilization of foreign facilities for specific purposes was well-known, as for instance in the cases of large strategic radars or air bases used to stage

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photoreconnaissance flights. In others, however, data were more limited – this was particularly true regarding the relay of data from satellites to major headquarters in the U.S. homeland. The U.S., during the Cold War and beyond, made important use of reconnaissance satellites which conducted area surveillance, close-look and real-time surveillance. Crucially, this involved the Keyhole series, KH-9 (Big Bird) devoted to area-surveillance and KH-8 (Close Look), later superseded (in 1976) by the KH-11 and later by the KH-12 (Ikon). Mostly, these satellites appear to have functioned without the help of overseas downlinks. The U-2 and SR-71 strategic reconnaissance aircraft were usable for a variety of nuclear and non-nuclear related missions. The latter can fly at a speed of Mach 4 (about 4160 km per hour), at a height of over 25,000 meters, can track SAM missiles, has radar detectors, a variety of ECMs, and a synthetic-aperture radar for high altitude night imaging. Some 15–19 SR-71s were utilized, co-located at some of the same bases as the U-2s, at Mildenhall in the U.K., Kadena on Okinawa and Akrotiri on Cyprus (the U-2s also utilized Incirlik, Peshawar, Clark AFB, Atsugi and Wiesbaden). The still newer TR-1A reconnaissance aircraft, of which some 14 were deployed, also utilized some of these bases. Other satellites and also land-based facilities were used for SIGINT, an acronym that subsumes several categories of intelligence collection, i.e., COMINT (communications intelligence), ELINT (electronic intelligence), TELINT (telemetry intelligence) and FISINT (foreign instrumentation signals intelligence). The major Cold War SIGINT satellite systems–Chalet, Rhyolite (targeted against telemetry, radar, communications, extending across the VHF, UHF and microwave frequencies), Ferret, Magnum/Aquacade (low orbiting ferret satellites used to map Soviet and Chinese radars) apparently made little use of overseas downlinks. But, the U.S. long made use of a plethora of ground-based SIGINT stations, as identified in Table 8. Although there were diverse types and mixes of these facilities, a few widely deployed types were notable. One involved a combination of AN/FLR-9 HF and VHF interception and direction-finding system (DF) with CDAA (Circularly Disposed Antenna Array) known as an “elephant cage.” Another involved telemetry interception capability with combined VHF-UHF-SHF receivers, used to monitor missile launches.45 Then there were FPS-17 detection radars and FPS-79 tracking radars also used in connection with missile launches. There were also a considerable number of AN/FLR-15 antennas.46 The identifiable land-based SIGINT facilities included those shown in the accompanying table. In some of these cases – Canada, the U.K., Turkey and perhaps Japan – SIGINT stations were jointly operated with host personnel, and the data intake shared to one degree or another, no doubt negotiated on a caseby-case basis and subject to periodic renewal; hence, a function of the state of political relationships and associated reciprocal leverage.

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Table 8 Land-based SIGINT facilities Country

Location/comments

Australia The Azores Canada China Cuba Cyprus Denmark Diego Garcia Honduras Kwajalein Midway FDR Germany

Northwest Cape Villa Nova Massett, Argentia, Whitehorse, Leetrim Korla, Qtai Guantanamo Five Stations Bornholm

U.K. Greece Iceland Italy Japan South Korea Morocco Norway Oman Panama Pakistan Philippines Okinawa Spain Taiwan Turkey

Palmerola Augsburg, Hof, a network called La Faire Vite to monitor WTO communications, and others Cheltenham, Wincombe, Morwenstow, Kirknewton Iraklion and Nea Makri Keflavik, Stockknes San Vito, Vicenza, Treviso Misawa, Camp Zama, Hakata, Sakata, Wakkanei, Kamiseya Yonchon, Camp Humphreys, Pyongtaek, Sinsan-ni, Kangwha Kenitrar Varda, Vadso, Viksofjellet Al Khasab, Umm Al-Ranam Island Corozol, Fort Clayton, Galeta Island Bada Bien San Miguel, Clark AB, John May Camp Tori, Hanza, Sobe, Omna Point Rota, El Casar del Talamanca Shou Lin Kou, Tapeh, Nan Szu Pu Sinop, Dyarbakir, Samsun, Karamursel, Antalya, Agri, Kars, Edirne, Ankara

Source: SIPRI data, and J.T. Richelson and D. Ball, The Ties That Bind (Allen and Unwin: Boston, 1985), appendix 1.

Ocean surface surveillance47 The U.S. had a number of systems – satellites, aircraft, ground stations and ships – for observing the world’s ocean surfaces, that is, for tracking Soviet warships, auxiliary intelligence ships, merchant and fishing vessels etc. Operationally, the goal was to know the location of all Soviet ships at any time. In normal conditions, one major purpose was to track the itineraries of Soviet ships carrying arms to clients – this was a key item of intelligence. In crises or, hypothetically, at the outset of a major war, the hair-trigger, preemptive nature of modern naval warfare – nuclear or non-nuclear – would have put a premium on real-time location and targeting of rival fleets, in all weathers. Contrariwise, both sides would have worked hard to devise methods for eluding detection, again, particularly during wartime conditions.

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Overseas facilities played a major role here. The U.S. utilized its White Cloud satellite system, part of its larger Classic Wizard system, for ocean surveillance, involving a variety of ELINT functions as well as use of interferometry techniques to locate Soviet or other vessels. This system comprised four satellites. The U.S. Naval Security Group operated ground stations which were part of this system at Diego Garcia and Edzell, Scotland, as well as at Guam, Adak and Winter Harbor, Maine. The P3C Orion, known mostly for its ASW role, was also utilized for ocean surveillance. It had access to bases throughout the world: Clark AFB (the Philippines), Misawa (Japan), Kadena (Okinawa), Keflavik (Iceland), Rota (Spain), Sigonella (Italy), Ascension and Diego Garcia islands, Cocos Islands (Australia), Masirah (Oman), Mogadiscu (Somalia) and several others. For land-based ocean surveillance, considerable use was made of HF/DF systems, which were also mounted on ships which, again, utilized various overseas port-facilities. Among the land-based HF/DF locales were those at Diego Garcia, Rota (Spain), Edzell (Scotland), Keflavik (Iceland), Brawdy (Wales), Japan and Guam. Those in Scotland, Wales and Iceland were located near the crucial GIUK–Gap chokepoint, which would presumably have been a major point of contention at the outset of a major war in relation to North Atlantic sea lines of communication and the Soviet submarine bastions near the Kola Peninsula. Richelson and Ball actually reported on some 40–50 HF/DF sites for ocean surveillance said to have been operated by the combined assets of the U.S., U.K., Canada, Australia and New Zealand.

Space surveillance48 During the Cold War, the proliferation of satellites and other man-made “space objects” made their tracking and identification more vital. The U.S. had an extensive program intended to detect and track its own satellites, but also Soviet and other nations’ space vehicles. In the security realm this had a number of dimensions. Of course, both sides wished to mask some of their ground activities from surveillance and therefore sought the capacity to operate during gaps in surveillance. By detecting and tracking Soviet satellites, the U.S. Satellite Reconnaissance Advance Notice (SATRAN) System allowed the U.S. to avoid Soviet coverage of U.S. military activities. As expectations mounted about a future which might have seen large-scale militarization of space, both sides increasingly perceived an interest in real-time surveillance of each others’ satellites, in the context of possible later hair-trigger preemptive situations as applied to mutual interdiction of satellites. Of course, both sides desired maximally effective intelligence on the others’ various military activities conducted from space: communications, ocean surveillance, SIGINT, nuclear detection, etc. In summary, as stated by Richelson: space surveillance helps provide the United States with intelligence on the characteristics and capabilities of Soviet space systems and their contribu-

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tions to overall Soviet military capabilities . . . Such data aid the United States in developing counter-measures to Soviet systems, provide a database for U.S. ASAT targeting and allow the United States to assess the threat represented by Soviet ASAT systems. For many years the heart of the dedicated sensor system was a group of BakerNunn optical cameras, huge cameras which, according to one source, could “photograph, at night, a lighted object the size of a basketball over 20,000 miles in space.” In addition to the two in California and New Mexico, these cameras were located outside the U.S. in New Zealand (Mt. John), South Korea (Pulmosan), Canada (St. Margarets, New Brunswick) and Italy (San Vito). Earlier there were others on Johnston Island, in Alaska, and in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Ethiopia, Greece, Iran, South Africa, Upper Volta and Curacao in the Lesser Artilles, among others. Because of its limitations – slowness in data acquisition, processing and response time, absence of all-weather capability and inflexible tracking capability – this system was replaced by the Ground-based ElectroOptical Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) system. GEODSS, also with five locations, overcame several of the Baker-Nunn system’s shortcomings by allowing real-time data, better search capability and more rapid coverage of larger areas of space – but was still limited by adverse atmospheric conditions. It was actually a system of three linked telescopes at each site, providing variable coverage by altitude. The five locations were in Hawaii (Maui) and New Mexico (White Sands), within the U.S. and externally in South Korea (Taegu), Diego Garcia and Portugal. Systems used primarily for early warning – BMEWS, FSS-7, PAVE PAWS, Enhanced Perimeter Acquisition Radar Attack Characterization System (EPARCS) and FPS-85 radars – were usable as collateral space-tracking sensors. Of these, BMEWS – based at Thule (Greenland), Fylingdales (U.K.) and Clear (Alaska) – involved extensive use of foreign access. Additionally, COBRA DANE (Shemya Island, Aleutians – 120 arc, 46,000-km range against space targets) and also the AN/FPS-79 (Pincirlik/Diyarbakir, Turkey) radar were usable in a space-surveillance role, as supplementary to the primary missions of monitoring missile-test re-entry trajectories. Numerous other foreign facilities were used as part of the U.S. Satellite Tracking and Data Acquisition Network (STADAN) network of installations used to track and monitor U.S. space activities, including the down-range course of launches. Among these were facilities in: Australia (Orooral Valley, Toowoomba), the U.K. (Winkfield), Ascension, Bermuda, the Canaries (Tenerife), Spain (Madrid), Brazil (Fernando de Noronha) and Antigua, in connection with space surveillance and under the heading of “miscellaneous radars.” Earlier STADAN tracking facilities were operated, among other places, in Chile, Ecuador, the Malagasy Republic, Grand Turk Islands, South Africa and Zaire.

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Satellite control stations49 One of the most secret or classified areas of overseas bases was that of satellite control stations. Ford, in his work on command and control, in analyzing the vulnerable and non-redundant nature of the U.S. early-warning system involving the DSP East satellite, its down-link facility in Australia and the communications link from there to the satellite control facility in Sunnyvale, California, provided some indication of what was involved. Thus, according to him: There are several dozen U.S. defense satellites now in orbit – providing communications, photoreconnaissance, electronic intelligence, navigational, meteorological, and other data-and they require contact with the Sunnyvale ground control station and its seven substations around the globe in order to remain functional. A great deal of fine-tuning, for example, is needed to steer the satellites in precise orbits and to keep their sensors, and antennas aimed properly. . . . A catastrophic loss of this control center would result in a major disruption of communications, tracking, and control of its space systems . . . And, further: Other officials are less optimistic. “We lose the SCF and the satellites basically go haywire,” a Pentagon expert who has studied this subject told me. “The communications satellites drift off to Pluto.” Certain intelligencegathering satellites in low-earth orbit would be in especially bad shape, he said, since the Sunnyvale facility has to “feed them” with instructions every time they complete an orbit. “You should see them scrambling when one of their satellites comes within range.” Desmond Ball estimated that the typical U.S. defense satellite might be able to remain in operation for three to four days without the Sunnyvale SCF; the most critical satellites, such as DSP East, which require a great deal of caretaking attention from the ground, could go out of service within hours. The seven sub-stations linked to Sunnyvale comprised three within the U.S. – at Manchester AF Station in New Hampshire, Kaena Point in Hawaii and Vandenberg Air Force Base (AFB) in California. Others outside the U.S. were at Thule, Greenland – collocated with various other technical facilities as well as a bomber and tanker base – at Guam at Andersen AFB, at Oakhanger in the U.K. and at Mahe in the Seychelles. Mahe had long hosted a U.S. satellite control facility (SCF) collocated with a DSCS ground terminal. This facility was apparently important in relation to reconnaissance satellites and for monitoring injection into orbit of satellites launched from Cape Canaveral. Earlier, up to 1975, the U.S. also had what apparently was an SCF at Majunga in the Malagasy Republic, one also used to monitor satellites launched from Cape Canaveral. U.S. access to this facility was then lost at a time when Tananarive shifted

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towards an arms-supply relationship with the USSR. Still earlier the U.S. apparently had a similar SCF on Zanzibar Island, within Tanzania.

Strategic early warning50 One of the most obviously critical areas of intelligence involving foreign bases is strategic early warning, that is, warning of impending or unfolding nuclear attack. Here, as in so many areas of military endeavor, the U.S. was asymmetrically dependent on foreign access, and crucially so. Indeed, it was long the case, even before the advent of intercontinental missilery, that the U.S. relied on radars in Canada and Greenland for warning of approaching bombers at a time when such warning could provide several hours of response time. The asymmetries were partly because of the larger relative size of the USSR and partly because of the location of critical foreign terrain – Canada, Greenland, Iceland – between the U.S. and the trans-Arctic routes that would be traversed by missiles and bombers across the arctic regions between the superpowers. Several key U.S. early-warning systems utilized foreign access; ground stations used to relay data from early-warning satellites; the BMEWS radar system directed against Soviet ICBMs, the several layers of radar pickets used to detect bombers en route to the U.S. from the Arctic region; and a variety of other sensors which might be used in collateral or supplementary roles. Regarding early-warning satellites, the U.S. relied primarily on what have become known as DSP East and DSP West (earlier these were called MIDAS satellites). The former had the primary task of watching for ICBM launches, the latter for SLBM launches in the Atlantic. The Code 647 Defense Support Program satellite – DSP East – sat some 23,000 miles above the Indian Ocean in geosynchronous orbit, monitoring the eastern hemisphere. It contained an infrared telescope equipped with thousands of tiny lead-sulphide detectors designed to pick up the hot exhaust flame produced by large rocket engines during the boost phase of their flights. It had full coverage of Soviet missile fields from an orbit more or less above the equator and, in the case of mass launchings, could tell what kinds of missiles had been launched and from where. Hence, DSP East could also provide valuable information about what kind of attack had been launched, that is, the likely targeting mix. That would in turn have guided the targeting of a U.S. counterforce response. The principal and necessary link between DSP East and NORAD was the down-link facility at Nurrungar, Australia (there were also control and tracking functions at Pine Gap and on Guam) described as a highly vulnerable set of antennas, transmitters and computational facilities. This “readout station” in turn would relay data to NORAD, variously by underseas cable, by HF radio links or via the Defense Satellite Communications System, and in turn via a switching station in Hawaii. These various alternative communications links between Nurrungar and Buckley AFB in Colorado involved foreign access to New Zealand, Fiji, Norfolk Island and Canada’s British Columbia at Port Alberni. In recent

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years, however, another down-link for DSP East (called the Simplified Processing Station) had been made operational at Kapaun, FDR Germany. A second major U.S. strategic warning system used to monitor ICBM launches was BMEWS, which comprised three major radars (located at Clear, Alaska, Thule, Greenland and Fylingdales Moor, U.K.). These radars became operational in 1950 and had 4800-km ranges. The BMEWS facility included four AN FPS-50 detection radars and an AN/FPS-49 tracking radar – these also acted as contributing sensors for the SPADATS system. Altogether, there were 12 radars with ranges of 4800 km. Finally, the U.S. had long relied – primarily for warning of the approach of bombers – on the series of radar picket lines across the Arctic known as the Distant Early Warning (DEW) and Continental Air Defense Integration North (CADIN) Pinetree lines. These had been located across Alaska, Canada and Greenland, with a few additional outposts in Iceland and the Faeroe Islands (the Table 9 Location of DEW Line and CADIN Pinetree Line radar sites in Canada and Greenland, 1985 DEW Lines Canada Broughton Island Byron Bay Cambridge Bay Cape Dyer Cape Hooper Cape Perry Cape Young Clinon Point Dewar Lakes Gladman Point Hall Beach Jenny Lind Island Komakuk Beach Lady Franklin Point Longstaff Bluff Macker Inlet Nicholson Peninsula Pelly Bay Shepherd Bay Shingle Point Tuktoyaktuk

Pinetree Line Alaska Armstrong Baldy Hughes Barrington Beausejour Beaver Lodge Chibougamau Dana Falconbridge Gander Air Base Goose Bay AB Gypsumville Holberg Kamloops Lac St. Denis Moisie Montapica Moosonee Ramore Senneterre Sioux Lookout Yorkton

Greenland Easterly Kulusuk Island (Dye 4) Quiquatoqoq (Holsteinberg-Dye-1) Westerly Source: W.M. Arkin and R.W. Fieldhouse, Nuclear Battlefields: Global Links in the Arms Race (Cambridge: Ballinger, 1985), appendix A.

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locations of the sites in Canada and Greenland are listed in Table 9 above). The DEW Line had 31 radars, some 21 of which were in Canada and four in Greenland (several also were used as relays for troposcatter communications relays); in the 1950s submarines on the surface filled gaps in the DEW Line – they could submerge after reporting incoming aircraft. The CADIN Pinetree Line of air surveillance radars in Canada had constituted a second line of warning behind the DEW Line and comprised some 22 stations operated by Canadian personnel for NORAD. The upgrading of the almost 30-year old DEW Line was impelled by cruisemissile developments and by new Soviet Backfire bombers capable of penetrating the old barrier; and it preceded the advent of the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). The new system involved a network of 52 new long- and shortrange radar stations overlapping Alaska, Canada and Greenland, and was called the North Warning System. It utilized many of the hub facilities of the DEW Line, but with upgraded modern radars and independent power systems. Later, around 2005, the U.S. became involved in the upgrading of the facility at Fylingdales for theater missile defense and, possibly, for the stationing of actual theater defense missiles.

Anti-submarine warfare51 During the Cold War, as well as afterwards, the U.S. had perhaps the world’s most extensive and effective global ASW capability, which required access to land facilities around the world: staging bases for aircraft, and processing stations for acoustic and electronic data. Regarding acoustic data, it relied heavily on its SOSUS networks, often alternatively referred to as Caesar. These, going way back to 1954, involved networks of hydrophonic arrays which sent oceanographic and acoustic data to shore processing facilities, that is, large computer analysis centers. These data and others were correlated at regional processing centers (including those in Hawaii, Wales, Newfoundland and Iceland) and then forwarded to a main processing center at Moffett Field, California, via FLTSATCOM and DSCS satellites.52 SOSUS, though augmented by other systems noted below, was the backbone of the U.S. ASW detection capability. It has been described by SIPRI as follows: Each SOSUS installation consists of an array of hundreds of hydrophones laid out on the sea floor, or moored at depths most conducive to sound propagation, and connected by submarine cables for transmission of telemetry. In such an array a sound wave arriving from a distant submarine will be successively detected by different hydrophones according to their geometric relationship to the direction from which the wave arrives. This direction can be determined by noting the order in which the wave is detected at the different hydrophones. In practice the sensitivity of the array is enhanced many times by adding the signals from several individual hydrophones after introducing appropriate time delays between them. The result is a listening

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Bases during the Cold War “beam” that can be “steered” in various directions towards various sectors of the ocean by varying the pattern of time delays. The distance from the array to the sound source can be calculated by measuring the divergence of the sound rays within the array or by triangulating from adjacent arrays.

The first SOSUS systems were completed on the continental shelf off the east coast of the U.S. in 1954.53 Others were later installed off both U.S. shores and at Brawdy, Wales – the Pacific Coast system came to be known by the codename of Colossus.54 A jointly operated U.S.–Canadian array came to be centered at Argentia, Newfoundland, others at Hawaii, the Bahamas and the Azores.55 By 1974 it was stated that there were 22 SOSUS installations located along the east and west coasts of the U.S. and near various chokepoints around the world – another 14 were identified by Richelson and others.56 Foreign-based SOSUS installations were located at Ascension, in the Azores (Santa Maria), the Bahamas (Andros Island), Barbados, Bermuda, Canada (Argentia), Denmark, Diego Garcia, Gibraltar, Guam (Ratidian Point), Iceland (Keflavik), Italy, Japan (sonar chains across the Tsugaru and Tsushima Straits), Norway, Panama (Galeta), the Philippines, the Ryukyus, Turkey, the U.K. (Scatsa, Shetland and Brawdy, Wales). Others have at times been operated on Grand Turk Island, Antigua, Bahamas (Eleuthera) and Barbados; and maybe on the Canary Islands at Punta de Tero. And the U.S. may possibly also have operated still other barrier sonars, for instance, in the central Mediterranean from Lampedusa and/or Pantelleria Islands, and on Midway Island in the central Pacific Ocean. Burrows described as follows the basic geometry of the U.S. SOSUS network which monitors Soviet egress from the Eurasion bastion: There are actually two SOSUS arrays moored across the approaches to Polyarnyy; one between Norway and Bear Island, and the other linking northern Scotland, Iceland, and Greenland. Submarines whose home port is Petropavlovsk are monitored by hydrophones strung from the southeastern tip of Hokkaido, along a line parallel to the Kuriles, and then up toward the northeast, off the Aleutian coast. Still others stretch from southern Japan to the Philippines, covering the approaches to China and Indochina. And there are also SOSUS installations on the Atlantic side of Gibraltar, others about halfway between Italy and Corsica and still others at the mouth of the Bosporus, off Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, and not so far from Hawaii. The Navy keeps the precise locations of its SOSUS equipment a closely guarded secret, since interfering with it would be a logical Soviet subject.57

Nuclear detection58 One important, but seldom commented upon aspect of the overall U.S. intelligence effort, was that connected with the detection of nuclear explosions. This involved several separate lines of activity. First, there was the matter of verification of existing arms control treaties,

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that is, the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963, which bans atmospheric testing, and the Threshold Test Ban Treaty of 1974, never ratified by the U.S. Senate (but tacitly adhered to in the manner of SALT II), which barred underground testing of nuclear devices of over 150 kilotons. Second, there was the monitoring of the horizontal nuclear proliferation activities of hitherto non-nuclear states, as well as of the non-signatory but nuclear states, China and France. Third there was the contingency of protracted nuclear war during which the U.S. would have wanted to determine the locations and frequencies of nuclear detonations on both sides and to assess resultant damage, among other reasons, to aid subsequent targeting decisions. Several interrelated systems were used to pursue the above ends, involving satellites, aircraft and ground stations. Use of satellites, in connection with bases, raised the question of external facilities for data down-links and command and control; that of aircraft involved, obviously, bases as well. According to Richelson, the U.S. space-based nuclear-detection system involved, variously, the various components of the VELA satellite program begun in the early 1960s, the previously mentioned DSP satellites primarily intended for early warning of missile launches, and the NAVSTAR global positioning system.59 Numerous aircraft types were used to detect airborne atomic debris left in the wake of explosions (if only the venting of imperfectly conducted underground blasts). One source said that these included the U-2, P-3C, C-135, B-52 and also an HC-130 configured as a sea-water sampler to monitor underwater nuclear tests (monitoring of plutonion-239 separation via kryption-85 analysis was presumably also similarly conducted). For instance, SAC’s U-2s apparently operated out of Australian facilities at Sale and Laverton, gathering radionuclides as part of a High Altitude Sampling Program. These aircraft were operated by the Air Force Technical Application Center (AFTAC) and could presumably have availed themselves of virtually all the airfields normally open to U.S. use throughout the world. Some of these operations no doubt involved ad hoc staging through facilities after an “event,” and the diplomacy of access involved was obscure. But, as there was a general convergence of overall interest by most nations with regard to monitoring others’ nuclear tests, access in these cases was likely to have been permissive.

The Soviet Cold War naval basing structure60 Before World War II, the USSR had had only very limited access to external facilities, perhaps solely with the forward deployment of some combat aircraft in Czechoslovakia in the 1930s. In parallel, Moscow was then only a small factor in the international arms trade, so it was not able to bank either on security assistance or ideological ties and alliances to establish forward bases. That situation changed dramatically after World War II, with an additional quantum jump in the late 1950s and on up to 1970s. Directly after the war, of course, Moscow established control over Eastern Europe (earlier also in Mongolia), and these dominated areas became the sites for a massive network of Soviet air, naval and ground facilities, with a heavy

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concentration in East Germany, Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia as an obvious correlate to Soviet political control over these countries and as a defensive glacis or possible springboard for offensive operations vis-à-vis NATO Western Europe. Again, the basis for basing access was simply brute conquest and imperial control. For some ten years after the end of the Cold War, the USSR had no basing access outside of its huge contiguous Eurasian empire. Indeed, it also had virtually no arms transfer or security assistance relationships outside this area during a period in which the U.S. established its elaborate structure of alliances and arms transfer relationships all around the Eurasian rimland. That all changed around 1955 with the beginning of the Soviet weapons transfers to Egypt and Syria. But then too in the late 1950s and early 1960s, numerous nations in the wake of decolonization and the creation of nominally Marxist regimes, became Soviet arms client states. Along with that, sometimes with a time lag, came the provision of basing access at a time, also, when Moscow was beginning to build a “blue-water navy.” And, some of the new arms recipients and basing hosts involved a “leapfrogging” of the containment rim around the huge Sino-Soviet Eurasian domain. Among the basing hosts developed in addition to Egypt and Syria were Algeria, Guinea, Ghana, CongoBrazzaville, Angola, Mozambique, Somalia, both Yemens, Iraq, Cuba and Vietnam (Indonesia and India were both major Soviet arms clients by 1965, but provided no significant access to bases). Gradually, the Soviet navy developed an external presence as the Cold War progressed, involving the build-up of a significant blue-water navy, the acquisition of bases and available ports of call, and the compilation of “ship-days” in the major oceans and seas matching that of the U.S. Navy. As recently as the late 1950s, the Soviet navy had had little of “blue-water,” long-range power projection capability nor basing access. Indeed, the early postwar exceptions were use of a Chinese base at Port Arthur, one at Porkalla in Finland, and a three-year interregnum (1958–1961) when Soviet submarines were granted access to Albanian bases in the Mediterranean. After that came the large-scale naval build-up through the late 1980s under the aegis of Admiral Gorshkov, a build-up that produced a navy that, measured by major surface combatants and submarines, was larger than that of the U.S. The Soviet Navy fielded some 269 principal surface combatants (including four Kiev carriers), two ASW helicopter carriers, some 36 cruisers of which two (Kirov-class) were nuclear, 61 destroyers (of which 33 were specialized for ASW) and 167 escorts including 100 corvettes.61 In addition, there were some 762 minor surface combatants: vast numbers of missile patrol boats, fast attack craft, 372 principal auxiliary ships (replenishment, tankers, missile support, supply, cargo, submarine tenders, repair, hospital, submarine rescue, salvage/ rescue, training ships, etc.). There were some 62 intelligence collection vessels (AGI), 456 naval research vessels, 74 tankers, 298 support ships, 1900 merchant ships, and numerous civilian oceanographic, fishery, space-associated and hydrographic research vessels.62

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The Soviet submarine fleet was equally formidable, comprising some 360 vessels. It fielded 63 SSBNs and 14 non nuclear-powered ballistic-missile submarines (SSNs), with a total of 983 submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs) – 39 SLBMs and 15 submarines were outside the SALT limits – some 214 attack submarines of which 70 were nuclear-powered, and 63 cruise-missile submarines, 48 of which were nuclear (SSGNs).63 That Cold War Soviet navy was, obviously huge. But its more limited (relative to the U.S.) external basing network required an outsized force of auxiliary ships to compensate for the shortage of land bases. The same was true for AGIs, fishing and oceanographic vessels, and SIGINT, communications relay, spacetracking, ships etc. In the Mediterranean, the important Soviet presence in Syria included naval access to the port of Tartus, which was the primary maintenance facility for Soviet submarines operating in the area. A Soviet submarine tender, a yard oiler and a water tender were stationed there. Over the years, there had also been varied degrees of naval access to Algeria, Libya and Yugoslavia. Soviet submarines were reported serviced at Annaba in Algeria, and its ships were refueled and maintained at a couple of Yugoslav ports on the Adriatic, at Tivat and Sibenik.64 In Guinea, despite some curtailment of long-maintained access for Soviet Bear reconnaissance aircraft, the USSR routinely used Conakry harbor as a facility for its West African patrol.65 But Luanda in Angola became the most important port for Moscow’s West African naval units – since 1982 that had involved an 8500-ton floating drydock capable of handling most major Soviet naval combatants.66 In Ethiopia, the installation at Dahlak Archipelago was the maintenance facility and supply depot for Soviet naval combatants operating in the Indian Ocean and Red Sea, normally ranging from 20–25 units, including surface ships, attack and cruise-missile submarines and auxiliaries. This facility included an 8500-ton floating drydock, floating piers, helipads, fuel and water storage, a submarine tender and other repair ships. Guided-missile cruisers and nuclear-powered submarines regularly called at Dahlak for repair and supplies.67 In Cuba, in addition to enjoying access for port visits, maintenance, and so on, Moscow permanently based a submarine tender at Cienfuegos, used primarily, if not solely, for servicing attack submarines – access for SSBNs might have been construed as a violation of the agreements emerging out of the Cuban Missile Crisis.68 At another level, Soviet access to Peruvian ports provided logistics support and maintenance for some 200 fishing vessels that operated off the coast of South America. This involved, among other things, extensive rotation of merchant seamen and fishermen.69 Table 10 details the Soviet overseas naval basing structure which, it is important to note, had experienced some major changes in the late Cold War period as reflective of the vicissitudes of external political alignments. Several external main operating bases were crucial to Soviet naval deployments: Cam Ranh Bay (Vietnam) in the Far East/Pacific area; Aden and Socotra (South Yemen) and the

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Table 10 Main and secondary surface-ship operating bases of the Soviet Navy Host nation base Vietnam Cam Ranh Bay

Cambodia Kampong Som (Sihanoukville) North Korea Najin India Vishakhapatnam Cochin Iraq Umm Quasr Az Zubayr Al Fao South Yemen Aden Socotra Island Ethiopia Dahlak Archipelago Assab Massawa Perim Island Mauritius Mozambique Nacala Maputo Tanzania Zanzibar Angola Luanda

Description Main external Soviet naval base in Far East – guidedmissile cruisers, frigates and minesweepers based here; also, attack submarines; on average, deployment was four submarines, two to four combat vessels, ten auxiliaries. Reported access for Soviet warships, i.e., replenishment, refueling, etc. Some port access, earlier reports of submarine base. Indian naval base built with Soviet assistance, some Soviet port calls, refueling, etc. Port calls, refueling, etc. reported. Soviet assistance in improving facilities here, earlier reported accessible to Soviet warships; access, limited during Iraq–Iran War. Earlier reported used by Soviet submarines and SIGINT vessels. Iraqi port, reported availed to Soviet Union after 1974 agreement. Soviet main base for Indian Ocean operations; fuel tanks, replenishment, reports of submarine pens alongside berthing for major surface ships. Anchorage used by Soviet ships, possible shore facilities. Large anchorage for Soviet Indian Ocean naval squadron. Important Soviet naval facility; floating dry dock formerly moored at Berbera. Port access, routine. Former British facility, reportedly improved by Soviet Union. Reported port calls (note concurrently reported U.S. access). Periodic port calls. Periodic port calls. Available, port calls. Was main Soviet naval base on West African coast, having replaced Conakry; guided-missile destroyer and several accompanying craft stationed here.

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Table 10 continued Host nation base Madagascar Diego Suarez Tanative Benin Cotonou Guinea Conakry Congo Ponte Noir Guinea Bissau Geba Estuary Algeria Mers El Kebir Annaba Libya Tripoli Benghazi Bardia Syria Latakia Tartus Ras Shamra Yugoslavia Tivat Rijeka Pula Sibenik Split Greece Siros Island Cuba Cienfuegos Mariel Nipe Bay Havana Santiago de Cuba Peru Calleo Romania Mangalia Sulina Source: Compiled from SIPRI data.

Description Available, port calls. Available, port calls. Periodic port calls. Formerly hosted small West African flotilla; use later curtailed, if not eliminated. Reported occasional port calls. Port calls. Port calls. Soviet repair ships deployed. Submarine repair capabilities reported. Regular access, Soviet Mediterranean squadron. Regular access, Soviet Mediterranean squadron. Soviet Union reported constructing naval base here. Main base for Soviet Mediterranean squadron; fuel, replenishment, etc. Regular access, maintenance facility for attack submarines, oiler, tender. Soviet submarine base alleged under construction. Repair of Soviet ships and submarines. Port calls. Port calls. Port calls. Port calls. Ship repairs, commercial, at Neorian shipyard. Replenishment base for Soviet attack submarines, mooring of submarine tender occasionally rumoured. Port calls. Port calls, Gulf-class submarines, intelligence collectors. Access for Soviet surface ships. Access for Soviet surface ships. Occasional ship visits since Soviet–Peruvian arms deal. Reported Soviet submarine base on Black Sea. Forward supply base for Soviet Danube flotilla.

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Dahlak Archipelago (Ethiopia) in the western Indian Ocean/Horn of Africa area; Luanda (Angola) in the South Atlantic; Latakia and Tartus (Syria) in the Mediterranean; and Havana, Cienfuegos and Mariel (Cuba) in the western North Atlantic. Beyond that, the Soviet Navy had acquired degrees of access – secondary bases, minor facilities, port visits etc. – in numerous other locales (often the subject of debate over facts and interpretations). These included Cambodia, India, Iraq, Mauritius, the Seychelles, Madagascar, Mozambique, Angola, Congo, Sao Tome and Principe, Cape Verde, Guinea Bissau, Benin, Guinea, Algeria, Libya, Yugoslavia, Spain (Canary Islands), Nicaragua and Peru. That may not have been a truly global basing structure, but it was something well beyond what would have accorded with a strictly defensive, coastal defense navy, or with the assumptions and expectations of a generation earlier.

Soviet air bases70 Numerically speaking, the Cold War Soviet Air Force was huge, comprising – in varying degrees of readiness – some 4000 combat aircraft. More than half of these were primarily configured as interceptors, that is, they were for strategic and/or tactical defense; the remainder were configured mostly as ground-attack craft. Still others had as their primary functions reconnaissance and electronic countermeasures; 540 and 30 craft, respectively. In its strategic forces, the USSR had some 165 long-range, 567 medium-range, and 450 short-range bombers, 68 long-range reconnaissance craft, some 100 ECM machines and (here deficient relative to the U.S.) a then growing force of some 50 Bison and Badger tankers. In line with the facts of Soviet ground and naval deployments, most permanent external deployments of aircraft were in the immediately contiguous areas of Eastern Europe within the WTO, Mongolia and Afghanistan. Otherwise, however, the Cold War years saw the Soviet Air Force break out of the confines of Eurasia to establish more or less permanent bases in Vietnam, South Yemen, Angola and Cuba. The USSR had some 2000 tactical aircraft deployed in Eastern Europe. The MiG-23 Flogger was by far the most numerous fighter-interceptor; followed by late-model MiG-21 Fishbeds and older Su-15 Flagons. Other less numerous fighter-interceptors included the Foxbat, Firebar, Fiddler and the then new MiG31 Foxhound and MiG-29 Fulcrum. Among the ground-attack aircraft, the most common were the Su-17 Fitter and MiG-27 Flogger, though reportedly the best interdiction aircraft in the Soviet inventory was the Su-24 Fencer. Other units were comprised of MiG-23 Floggers, the then new Su-24 Frogfoot and older MiG-21 Fishbed and Su-7 Fitter As. Reconnaissance aircraft deployed in Eastern Europe included MiG-21 Fishbeds, Su-17 Fitters, MiG-25 Foxbats and Yak-28 Brewers. In East Germany, there were large numbers of attack and interceptor fighters, a total of 685 combat aircraft, comprising 315 attack aircraft (Su-17s, Su-24s, Su-25s, MiG-27s), 300 fighter interceptors (MiG-21/25/27s), 50 reconnaissance craft (Su-17s, MiG-25s), plus 20 ECM and 40 light transport aircraft. These

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were forward-based at some 17 bases; quantitatively speaking, there were both more aircraft and bases than were fielded by the U.S. and British counterparts in West Germany. These were at: Zossen-Wiesdorf, Stralsund, Peenemunde, Parchim (Hind-24 helicopters and long-range transports for troop exchanges), Finow, Werneuchen, Oranienburg, Wittstock, Neuruppin, Zerbst (MiG-25 reconnaissance aircraft), Juterborg, Kothen, Welzow, Finsterwalde (Su-20 Fitter B fighter regiment), Merseburg, Grossenhein and Alternburg. In Czechoslovakia, the USSR regularly deployed some 105 combat aircraft, located mostly in the Bohemian region along the German border and in the area northwest of Prague. There were some 45 MiG-27 Flogger D/Js, 45 Flogger Bs and 14 Su-17 reconnaissance craft. Among the some 30 military airfields in Czechoslovakia, Soviet combat aircraft were reported stationed at Prague’s Ruzyne airport, Milovice, Cheb/Horni Dvory, Dobrany, Karlovy Vary, Zatec, Mimon, Tchorovice and Panensky Tynec. In Hungary, the Soviet Air Force had six major air bases in addition to joint use of some Hungarian bases and also some dispersal strips. There were about 240 combat aircraft deployed, including Su-17 Fitter and Su-24 Fencer attack craft, MiG-23 interceptors and Su-17 reconnaissance aircraft. Tokol in Budapest, a major Soviet base used jointly with Hungary, deployed fighters, bombers, transports and helicopters and was also the headquarters for the Soviet Air Force in Hungary. Other important bases were at Kaposvar, Papa, Veszprem, Debrecen, Mezokovesd, Pecs and Szombathely. There was joint use of other installations at Kalocsa, Szolnok, Kecskemet, Sarmellek and Szeged. In strategically located (relative to the main potential theater of operations along the West German frontier) Poland, the USSR earlier based combat aircraft at Legnica, Gniezno, Pucza Bolimowska, Gdansk (naval air Backfires), Zagan, Brzeg, Opole, Szczecin, Kolobrzeg, Szczecinek and Koszalin. The bases at Zagan and Szprotawa hosted Su-24 Fencer aircraft. In the Far East, again associated with a major ground force deployment, there were in Mongolia about six squadrons of Soviet combat aircraft, including MiG21/23/25/27s. They were at Choybalsan northeast, Ulan Bator southwest, Nalayh, Bayan Suma and two facilities around Sayn Shand which fielded MiG23s. These were large deployments comparable to those in Eastern Europe, reflecting the size of the Soviet presence vis-à-vis China during the period of tension between the two communist giants. In addition, some 30 MiG-23s were based on Eterofu Island in the Kuriles (disputed with Japan), along with 8000–10,000 troops. During the war in Afghanistan the Soviet Air Force established a major presence in at least five air bases. These was at Kabul, Kandahar (important for airlift and for naval reconnaissance over the Indian Ocean), Bagram (MiG-23 base and reported Tu-95 Bear bomber deployment), Shindand (a squadron each of MiG-21s and MiG-23s, two squadrons of Su-20 fighters and 60 Mi-6 helicopters) and Jalalabad near Pakistan and the Khyber Pass, where 100-plus Soviet helicopters were reported stationed. These bases were later used by the U.S. after the fall of 2001.

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Outside of the old (Western-imposed) Eurasian containment rim (or “out of area” relative to the USSR), the Soviet Air Force established bases, ad hoc facilities and staging rights in virtually all of the world’s major regions. Concerning the “permanent” or continuous deployment of aircraft (or sporadic deployments approaching that status), this involved most importantly both combat and naval reconnaissance aircraft. The major deployments were, as one might expect, colocated with the major naval facilities in some of the Soviet Union’s closest allies in the Third World, such as Vietnam, South Yemen, Cuba, Syria, Libya and Angola. Still, relative to USAF access overseas, the paucity of permanent deployment of combat aircraft stood out. Perhaps of greater significance was the considerable access for Soviet naval reconnaissance aircraft. In Vietnam, alongside the major naval deployments at Cam Ranh Bay, the Soviet Union deployed some 24 reconnaissance or combat aircraft, 8 Tu-95 Bears and 16 Tu-16 Badgers D/K, ten of the latter having strike capabilities.71 The Badgers’ ranges extended the Soviet strike capability over the entire Southeast Asian region, notably including the U.S. bases in the Philippines, but also over Guam and the other U.S. facilities in the islands of the Central Pacific.72 In the Southwest Asia/Indian Ocean area, the Soviet Union, after 1978, was provided access to Yemen’s Aden International Airport and to a military airfield at Al-Anad, for IL-38/May naval reconnaissance aircraft, the Soviet equivalent to the U.S. P-3C.73 (These were transited further south to Ethiopia and Mozambique.) In the Mediterranean, there was similar access for IL-38s in Libya after 1981, at Okba ben Nafi, the former U.S. Wheelus Air Force Base. Additionally, there were a large number of Soviet Air Force advisers and maintenance personnel in Libya, whose air force comprised MiG-25s, MiG-23s, MiG-21s, Su-22s and Mi-24 Hind helicopters – as well as Tu-22 Blinder bombers and IL-76 Candid and AN-26 Curl transports.74

Soviet ground force bases75 During the peak of the Cold War, the USSR deployed a massive land army and associated facilities in Eastern Europe. At the peak, that involved some 565,000 troops, organized for combat into 30 divisions (16 tank and 14 motorized rifle), plus attached artillery units. The deployments were as follows: 1

2

3

GDR: 380,000 troops; one Group and five Army headquarters; ten tank and nine motorized rifle divisions; one artillery division; one air assault division; five attack helicopter regiments with some 500 Mi-8 Hip and 420 Hind attack helicopters. Czechoslovakia: 80,000 troops; one Group and one Army HQ; two tank and three motorized rifle divisions; one air assault battalion; one artillery brigade, 2 attack helicopter regiments with 100 Mi-8 Hip and Mi-24 Hind helicopters. Poland: 40,000 troops; one Group and one Army headquarters; two tank

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divisions, one attack helicopter regiment with 120 Mi-8 and Mi-24 helicopters. Hungary: 65,000 troops; one Group and one Army HQ; two tank and two motorized rifle-divisions; one air assault brigade with 65 Mi-8 and Mi-24 helicopters.76

Outside Europe, the only permanent major (peacetime) Soviet ground-force deployment in an allied country was in Mongolia. There, the Red Army deployed two tank and three motorized rifle divisions, 65,000 troops in all (earlier there were 75,000) vis-à-vis China.77 These forces filled a gap in the Sino-Soviet confrontation line amid a much larger overall Soviet deployment in the Far Eastern theatre of some 53 regular divisions (seven tank, 45 motorized rifle, one airborne), abetted by four artillery divisions and two air assault brigades. The Soviet Union’s other main external ground force was, of course, the large army of some 118,000 troops engaged in combat in Afghanistan, which included 10,000 Ministry of Internal Affairs (MVD) and Committee of State Security (KGB) troops. That force remained, numerically speaking, at a fairly constant level from the initiation of hostilities in 1979, to its conclusion in 1989. There are several other locales where clusters of Soviet-bloc advisers and military technicians were significant beyond the “norm” for standard military missions. These were in Algeria (1000), Cuba (8000), Ethiopia (1500), Libya (2000), North Yemen (500), South Yemen, (2500), Syria (4000) and Vietnam (2500), with small numbers in India, Iraq, Cambodia, Laos, Mali, Mozambique, Nicaragua and Peru. Each was a major recipient of Soviet arms. The muchargued “Cuban brigade” – whether defined as a combat formation or as a collection of support troops – achieved some notoriety in 1979 when publicity over its presence (and arguments about whether it represented a violation of agreements made at the close of the 1962 Cuban Missile crisis) was important to the aborting of the SALT II Treaty by opposition in the U.S. Senate. Soviet forces in Syria were important in the wake of the latter’s debacle in the 1982 war with Israel – they manned the some 48 long-range SA-5s which could have contested Israeli air control even over the Mediterranean in the event of renewed hostilities. Earlier, prior to 1972, there was a large force of Soviet troops – some 20,000 – deployed in Egypt’s Suez Canal area, mostly to man air defense installations. In 1977–1978, some Soviet forces aided Ethiopia in its war against Somalia.

Soviet technical facilities abroad78 During the Cold War, the USSR made – relative to the U.S. – much less use of foreign facilities for technical functions – communications, space-related, antisubmarine warfare, nuclear detection etc. This was variously due to much greater utilization of shipboard facilities; the larger (relative to the U.S.) Soviet land mass in relation to the major focus of the superpower competition along the Eurasian rim, which allowed many functions to be performed within the USSR;

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the lesser number of aligned client states available to the Soviet Union in the Third World; the practice of utilizing a larger numbers of satellites with shorter lives; and the more open nature of Western societies which reduced the (relative) Soviet requirements for proliferated intelligence facilities. The USSR had nothing, for instance, comparable to the U.S. SOSUS network for tracking submarines, though there was a report in 1978 of a Soviet hydrophone apparatus washed ashore in Iceland. The Soviets relied more on surface ships and perhaps also submarines and aircraft-sown sonabuoys for detection of U.S. submarines. It maintained about 50 auxiliary intelligence ships for ASW work, which maintained a constant presence near important continental U.S. bases such as Charleston, South Carolina; Kings Bay, Georgia; Norfolk, Virginia; Mayport, Florida; and Bangor, Washington; as well as at Holy Loch, Scotland. And, unlike the U.S., the USSR apparently made no use of external communications and/or navigation facilities in connection with submarines on patrol. Several sources reported that communications with submarines stationed at great distances from the USSR were handled by a network of some 26 VLF and LF transmitters within the USSR itself, apparently sufficient to cover the patrol areas of Soviet SSBNs and SSNs; in the former case, most were kept close to home in the “bastions,” or on stations in the Atlantic or Pacific oceans within range of the home communications stations. Ford referred to six long-range radio transmitters (at Petropavlovsk, Vladivostok, Dikson Ostrov, Kaliningrad, Matochin Shar and Arkhangelsk) that gave orders to Soviet submarines. In addition, Arkin and Fieldhouse reported a three-station network of “Omega-type” VLF transmitters at Krasnodar, Komsomolsk and Rostov. They also detailed a considerable number of LORAN-C type “Pulsed Phase Radio Navigation System” stations, organized by chains along the western and eastern littorals of the USSR, used to position submarines. Soviet submarines apparently also received communications from satellites during brief surfacing. And, one source indicated the possibility of Soviet use of command and control submarines for relaying communications to other underseas craft within communications distance. The Soviet global ground network of space-tracking and satellite control facilities was, of course, far less extensive than that of the U.S. Again, this was a function of the far more extensive use of ship-borne facilities as well as of the lesser external needs dictated by the larger land mass of the USSR, particularly in relation to many satellite orbits which allowed direct transmission to the USSR. At the core of the Soviet space-surveillance system was a network of at least 12 sites within the USSR claimed to be “equipped with receivers to measure Doppler shifts in radio signals, tracking radars, and photo theodolites and which transmit data to a central computation center.” Additionally, radars associated with anti-ballistic missiles (ABM) – Pushkino, Hen House, Try Add and Dog House – are said to have had space-tracking capabilities, along with the controversial (in the context of ABM treaty verification) radar at Abalakova.

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Outside the USSR, there were a number of tracking stations in foreign countries. These were reported in Egypt (Helwan and Aswan) before the Egypto– Soviet break, Mali, Guinea, Cuba and Chad, as well as in Czechoslovakia and Poland. At Santiago de Cuba, for instance, there was an Interkosmos laser radar and also a KIM-3 tracking camera, presumably functionally equivalent to the U.S. Baker-Nunn or GEODSS systems. Perhaps overlapping this grouping, there were reports of an Interkosmos laser tracking program (using a laser rangefinder) involving facilities in Egypt, Bolivia, India and Cuba. It is believed that tracking was carried out at Khartoum in the Sudan and Afgoi in Somalia. But just because the Soviet Union was reluctant to become too dependent on foreign land-based stations, it placed considerable emphasis upon shipborne space-tracking (and also missile-tracking) systems. This involved more than ten ships – a Soviet source noted that even despite the nation’s large land mass, space vehicles were within direct visibility from Soviet territory only for about nine hours out of 24. In the field of communications too, the Soviet Union was far less dependent on foreign land bases than the U.S.; correspondingly, far more reliant on ship-borne systems (an exception, of course was the VLF facilities used to communicate with submarines, perhaps too large to be placed aboard ships). As it is, however, relative to what was known about the U.S., there was scant information on how the USSR utilized the whole of the frequency spectrum for various purposes, how it tried to circumvent countermeasures by redundancy, and so forth. For the most part, Soviet use of overseas communications facilities focused on the downlinks for the Molniya communications satellites, of which there were some 40 aloft at a given time. A U.S. government report provided some information (and a map) on the general locations of Soviet tracking ships and, hence, of the locales where they might have sought port access or at least mooring buoys. Among them, off Sable Island, Nova Scotia; in the western Mediterranean near Gibraltar; the Gulf of Guinea; off Mozambique and Madagascar; off Honduras, east of the Philippines; and north of New Zealand. Large tracking ships apparently moored at Havana and/or Santiago while tracking some flights; Trinidad was also mentioned in this context. Some of the other locations provided rationales for periodic access to Conakry or Maputo, maybe also to Nicaragua, as well as providing further indications of the Soviet need for access somewhere in the South Pacific. (The U.S. government report stated that three large Soviet ships took turns serving in the Caribbean area to extend Soviet deep-space coverage.) The USSR depended considerably less on land-based SIGINT collection stations than the U.S., though, it utilized a variety of means; satellites, surface ships and submarines, aircraft, equipment based in embassies and so on. And again, similar to the situation with respect to space tracking and early warning, one had to be aware of the sometimes only indirect importance of external access; for instance, for fueling ships used in lieu of land facilities. The USSR was reported to have had major SIGINT facilities at Lourdes, Cuba; Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam; Ethiopia (two); South Yemen; Syria; and

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Afghanistan. That at Lourdes was reported to be devoted to interpretation of satellite communications. There may have been additional ground stations in Libya and Iraq, though the fate of the latter might be questioned since Moscow had given only modest support to Iraq in its war with Iran, particularly in the early stages, in part because of the cross-pressures from its relationship with Libya. The Lourdes facility was a large one, operated by some 2000 Soviet personnel; it became a prominent issue in 1979 at the time of the imbroglio in the U.S. over the Soviet “Cuban brigade” amid the SALT II confirmation hearings. The facility of 50 buildings housed an antenna field, satellite receiver and so on, and targeted U.S. civilian and military communications, that is, B-52 communications, Fort Benning and Cape Canaveral, the naval headquarters at Norfolk, etc. According to Richelson, the Lourdes facility, complemented by a similar one in the USSR, “gave complete coverage of the global beams of all U.S. geosynchronous communications satellites.” At Cam Ranh Bay, the Soviet Union had an important facility from which to monitor both land and ocean-based emissions – there were two HF/DF sites used to gain locational data on U.S. fleet units in the Pacific. The U.S. bases in the Philippines were obvious targets. The four sites in Afghanistan aided collection, variously, vis-à-vis China, Pakistan, Iran and the Persian Gulf area. And, of course, these sites merely added to the capabilities of hundreds of SIGINT sites located within the USSR. The Soviet Union had some other land-based intelligence-interception facilities located outside the USSR. In Laos, there was an air-surveillance radar, obviously directed against China. According to the IISS, there was a Soviet monitoring station (elsewhere identified as a radar site) in Sao Tome and Principe. In Cuba, along with the Lourdes facility, there were also air-defense surveillance radars, the Tall King system, apparently operated by Soviet personnel. In East Germany, there were HF-finding antennas used in connection with jamming operations, in Poland, a SIGINT station and HF direction-finder at Sinajscie, and at Bierdzany a receiver site for a Soviet OTH radar transmitter located at Kiev. Throughout Eastern Europe, there were large numbers of airsurveillance radars equivalent to the NATO NADGE system – in Hungary, for instance, some 130 sites manned by Soviet personnel were reported. The Soviet AGIs had near global patrolling areas. There was a concentrated effort to monitor off the southeastern coast of the U.S. (where U.S. surface and submarine units were concentrated), in the English Channel, the Norwegian Sea and off Holy Loch. In the Indian Ocean and Mediterranean Sea, Western naval movements were monitored, particularly near the straits of Gibraltar, Hormuz and Bab El Mandeb, and the Suez Canal. In the Pacific Ocean, there was corresponding emphasis off the coasts of China, Japan, Guam and in the waters around Vietnam. The dependence of these “spy ships” on provisioning from foreign ports was difficult to gauge, but must certainly have been considerable. As noted by one

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source, the Soviet Union had chosen “not to build an auxiliary fleet of the size necessary to reduce out-of-area base support to a manageable minimum . . . Ship designs, both for ease of maintenance and for reasons of habitability, still are notoriously poor . . . Unlike U.S. ships, most Soviet ships cannot distill enough fresh water and are dependent upon water tankers.” This situation necessitated frequent operational port visits by auxiliaries to take on food and fresh water, which were then transferred to combatants, presumably also AGIs, at roadsteads or at sea. This presumably further directed attention to the main Soviet basing hosts and clients – Cuba, Angola, Syria, Vietnam, South Yemen etc. – as critical to fueling and otherwise provisioning the Soviet Union’s global AGI effort.

Soviet forward-based missiles79 By the mid-1980s, of course, both the U.S./NATO and the USSR deployed large numbers of externally based, nuclear-armed missiles in Europe, constituting a massive and critical forward presence. Centrally, this involved Soviet deployment of short-range theater weapons and tactical weapons in Eastern Europe (SS-12/22s, SS-23s and SS-7 “Frogs”) and a countervailing U.S. deployment of Pershings, cruise missiles and Lance battlefield weapons. The Soviet SS-20 theater missiles which were at the center of the INF negotiations were first deployed in 1977. These missiles, carrying three nuclear warheads with ranges of 3400 miles (5000 km), were phased in to replace the older SS-4s. The latter were first deployed in 1959, with a single warhead platform and a range of 1120 miles. By 1987, it was typically reported that over 300 SS-20s were deployed against NATO west of the Ural Mountains, with another 100 or so in Soviet Asia, for a total of 441. None of these were based outside the USSR (nor were any of the 112 reported SS-4s which were still deployed in the western USSR). They were based in several fields in the western Soviet Union and near the Caspian Sea. The SS-20s threatened the entirety of NATO-Europe with their 5000-km ranges, as well as many other important targets – the Azores, Greenland, Philippines, Guam, Okinawa, etc.

Other nations’ external basing: Britain and France80 Somewhat in the face of historical nostrums associated with Mahan and others, it is apparent that the Cold War competition – if that is what it was – for overseas naval access was largely a two-nation game. In that sense at least, bipolarity unquestionably reigned. There were, nonetheless, a few not altogether insignificant instances of naval basing retained by – or recently acquired by – some other nations: France, Britain, Australia, the Netherlands and maybe others. Of course, almost all navies conduct periodic port visits abroad, variously involving “presence,” solidification of political friendships, broadening of horizons for naval personnel, and so on.

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France had the most significant external naval presence besides the superpowers, most notably represented by its Indian Ocean Flotilla (Alindien) of five frigates, three minor combatants, two amphibious and four support ships (also a small naval marine detachment). That force was deployed out of Djibouti (hence was within combat range of the Persian Gulf), also making extensive use of bases at Reunion and Mayotte (Mozambique Channel), both French overseas possessions (earlier, up to 1973, France had extensive access to Diego Suarez in Madagascar). There was also a significant naval presence in the Pacific: five frigates, five minor combatants, seven amphibious and 12 support ships. That force operated out of Noumea, New Caledonia and also patrolled via Tahiti (Papeete), Muroroa and other French dependencies in the southwest Pacific. Two small ships were also normally rotated about between the Antilles (Port Lewis, Guadeloupe) and Guyana. The French Navy also made extensive use of a number of other ports, mostly in closely aligned African nations: most notably Dakar (Senegal), Abidjan (Ivory Coast) and Libreville (Gabon). During the events of 1987, France’s access to Djibouti allowed for a significant naval presence in the Gulf of Oman, outside the Straits of Hormuz. That presence was reported as consisting of three minesweepers, three escorts, one anti-submarine ship, the aircraft carrier Clemenceau and two frigates. Great Britain’s once near astonishing network of overseas naval bases and access had by 1985 dwindled to a very small remnant, aside from still extensive routine port calls by the Royal Navy. Small naval forces were still permanently deployed in Belize, Gibraltar and Hong Kong. A relatively large force, including an ASW carrier, an SSN and several escorts and auxiliaries remained in the Falklands in the wake of that (not wholly resolved) dispute. A small naval detachment (one or two destroyers or frigates and a couple of support ships) moved about the Indian Ocean, making use of Diego Garcia, Singapore, Perth and so on, and had quietly been used to escort ships in the Persian Gulf. That presence, which apparently utilized access to Bahrain, was reported in 1987 to consist of two warships, one fleet tanker, four minesweepers and a supply ship. Otherwise, within NATO, only the Netherlands permanently deployed a tiny naval presence outside Europe – the Dutch retained a small presence at Curacao in the Caribbean. (Spain was reported to have established a small “fishing” presence in Equatorial Guinea after the expansion of the Soviet Navy from Luba.) As in so many other ways, the matter of external basing of aircraft remained during the Cold War primarily a two-nation game, reflective of the tenacious hold of bipolarity which had characterized global basing networks in the postcolonial era. Earlier, of course, the primary colonial powers – Britain, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain – all had had extensive networks of air bases closely associated with colonial garrisons and with colonial rivalries among the European powers themselves. In the 15–20 years after 1945, these assets gradually dwindled, and in the process the number of bases available to the U.S. and, more generally, to the Atlantic alliance contracted. But there were still some remnants, and in the case of France at least, even the hint of a slight expansion of an overseas air power presence.

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Of course, there was some intra-NATO alliance forward basing of aircraft in West Germany; again, associated for obvious reasons with land-force deployments and, indeed, located immediately to the rear, westward of those forces. The British Army of the Rhine was backed up by significant forward Royal Air Force (RAF) deployments, involving 12 aircraft and two helicopter squadrons, six deploying nuclear-capable Tornado strike aircraft (co-developed in a consortium with the FRG and Italy), one of Jaguar reconnaissance aircraft and two of Phantom fighters; also among these were two squadrons of Harrier jump jets (nuclear-capable) and one of Pembroke communications aircraft. These aircraft were stationed at several main air bases in northern Germany: Laarbruch, Bruggen, Wildenrath and Gutersloh. Canada’s contribution, further south in Baden Wurtemberg, consisted of forward deployment of three squadrons of 36 CF-18s at a base at Baden Sollingen, supported by liaison aircraft and 2700 personnel. In addition, the West German Luftwaffe had training and some support facilities in Portugal, the U.S., the U.K. and Canada, and had permanently based 18 Alpha jets at Beja in Portugal, mostly in connection with training activities. Elsewhere, overseas, some remnants of what obviously once was a much larger RAF presence remained. There were some aircraft or helicopters permanently stationed at the Falkland Islands, Ascension, Belize, Brunei, Cyprus, Gibraltar and Hong Kong. Of these, the RAF maintained only helicopters and/or utility aircraft in Brunei, Cyprus (Akrotiri) and Hong Kong, though Phantoms and Lightning fighters were sometimes deployed to Cyprus. There were apparently Victor bomber and Hercules C-18 tanker detachments on Ascension, in the late 1980s, no doubt to provide the wherewithal for another logistics operation to the Falklands, if that should have been necessary. There was a helicopter squadron at Hong Kong, as the latter’s reversion to China loomed. In Belize, a lingering point of tension in connection with Guatemalan irredentist aims, the supporting British force included four Harriers and also four Puma and four Gazelle helicopters. Gibraltar still saw occasional deployments of Jaguar fighter aircraft. In the Falklands themselves, the U.K. – to deter another invasion which could have seen an enhanced Argentinian air assault – maintained on station a full squadron of nine Phantoms and Harrier vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) aircraft, Hercules tactical transports and several Sea King and Chinook helicopter detachments. This was almost, quixotically, the largest RAF presence outside of Europe. Overall, the RAF had some 17,000 personnel stationed abroad. The U.K. also deployed some ASW aircraft at overseas bases, supplementing the near-global presence of the large U.S. force of P-3C Orions. The British equivalent was the nuclear-capable Nimrod MR2 aircraft. These were periodically deployed at Wideawake Airfield on Ascension; Kindley Naval Air Station, Bermuda; Akrotiri, Cyprus; Stanley Airfield in the Falklands; Gibraltar; Keflavik, Iceland; Sigonella, Sicily and perhaps also Konya Air Base, Turkey. The French Air Force, again in direct association with army detachments, maintained a fairly significant presence in several African states. These forces had been directly engaged in some local wars where, even in small numbers,

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they could be decisive or at least telling because of an absence of counterweights, at least so long as Soviet or Cuban pilots were not directly engaged. At minimum, they acted as tripwire deterrents – for several Francophone regimes – against local aggression or external involvement. The main points of deployment were in Djibouti, the Central African Republic, Chad, Gabon, the Ivory Coast and Senegal. Jaguar fighter-bombers (codeveloped with the U.K.) were deployed in the Central African Republic, Chad and Gabon; Mirage F-1C aircraft were also deployed to Chad. Djibouti had a squadron of ten Mirage IIIs. Alouette and Puma helicopter were stationed in all of these countries, in the Ivory Coast they constituted the only French Air Force presence. There were C-160 Noratlas transport aircraft deployed to the Central African Republic, Chad, Djibouti, Gabon and Senegal. In the latter case, France had based at Dakar and also at Djibouti Breguet Atlantique maritimesurveillance aircraft in areas not far from frequent Soviet naval deployments in West Africa and the Indian Ocean. The Noratlases provided for speedy movement of French or other surrogate forces in case of crisis or conflict. Aircraft based in Chad were earlier military engaged, as were those based in Senegal, which flew missions on behalf of Mauritania and Morocco earlier on during the Western Sahara war. Outside of Africa, France had no permanently stationed combat aircraft, though helicopters and utility aircraft were deployed in Martinique, Guadeloupe, French Polynesia, Reunion and the Mozambique Channel Islands. Otherwise, one can point merely to a few scattered external deployments of aircraft represented by still other members of the Western alliance. The Netherlands had deployed some P-3Cs through Keflavik, Iceland and through British air bases at St. Mawgan and Machrihanish. Australia had kept two squadrons of Mirages in Malaysia as its contribution to the defense of Southeast Asia. New Zealand up to 1982 had also had a small air presence in Singapore. Concerning technical facilities, the U.K., which deployed SSBNs and SSNs in the eastern Atlantic, had LF transmitters at Bermuda and Gibraltar; the latter was capable of reaching across the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean (until 1976 the U.K. had naval communications facilities at Mauritius and Singapore, when it also still maintained a naval presence east of Suez). It had another at Port Stanley in the Falklands, which would obviously have been of value in case of resumption of hostilities in that area. It also deployed an RAF/UKADGE early-warning radar at Sornfelli in the Danish-controlled Faeroe Islands. Britain also fielded some additional, scattered C3I assets overseas. It had a major SIGINT site on Cyprus at Pergamos/Dhekelia. Elsewhere, on Cyprus, the U.K. had a troposcatter communications relay, a Skynet satellite-communications terminal and an OTH radar in the Troodos Mountains capable of monitoring missile tests within the USSR. There were reported Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ) SIGINT stations on Ascension (Two Boats) and St. Helena islands; also at Darwin, Australia (earlier, there were others in Botswana, Aden, Bahrain, Malta, Mauritius, Singapore and on Oman’s Masirah Island). There was a COMINT and HF/DF facility at Gibraltar. Two other SIGINT

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stations were located at Hong Kong, a major one at Diepholz in West Germany, along with other signals units at Teufelsberg, Jever, Celle, Dornenberg and Gorleben. A former U.S.-run nuclear-detection site at Pearce, Australia was operated by the British Atomic Energy Authority. Earlier, there was a communications relay facility on Mauritius. Britain also contributed to the overall Western intelligence effort via some jointly operated facilities. In conjunction with Australia, it operated an oceansurveillance radar at Hong Kong, once directed against the People’s Republic of China, used to monitor Soviet fleet movements in the SLOCs between Siberia and Vietnam. (Australia and New Zealand jointly operated a similar facility at Singapore.) The U.S. and U.K. jointly operated such a facility at Diego Garcia. These and other such facilities – an Australian installation at Darwin, U.S.operated bases at Edzell, Scotland and Brawdy, Wales, constituted a global system codenamed Bullseye for direction-finding interception of ships at sea. These and related activities were discussed by Richelson and Ball in the context of the multilateral U.K./U.S. arrangement entered into by the U.S., U.K., Canada, Australia and New Zealand in 1947 in the aftermath of World War II.

Summary – Cold War basing patterns The 45-year long Cold War presented in some cases patterns that were reminiscent of previous periods, but others that were entirely new, pertaining both to politics and technologies. Reminiscent of the past was the geopolitical heartland/rimland structure of a bipolar struggle. The U.S. rimland basing structure, increasingly leapfrogged as the period progressed, was similar by degree with the earlier Portuguese, Dutch and British basing networks, calling to mind Thompson’s thesis about system leader lineage patterns. But, the ideological nature of the bipolar conflict (earlier, only the religious divide between Islam and Christianity provides a partial analog) resulted in fairly stable alliance and alignment/clientship patterns over several decades. That translated also into stable, long-term basing relationships between sovereign states that had no discernible historical precedent. The basis for basing in this period was also historically unique, increasingly so as the period progressed. As previous imperial control over much of the world by the European powers collapsed, so too collapsed basing access networks based on that imperial control. In its place, both the U.S. and USSR, largely previously bereft of overseas empires, acquired and maintained access to bases largely via a combination of the provision of security to regional states against the rival superpower and its regional clients and with that, the provision of security assistance in the form of arms transfers, training, economic assistance etc. During the Cold War period, the proliferation of new types of basing access was driven by rapid and profound technological change. Up to the interwar period, the story for bases had mostly to do with surface naval bases and related “forts” or ground force deployments utilized mostly for colonial control. By the

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1930s, air bases and those for submarines had become important, so too some initial “technical facilities,” such as those for communications and communications intercepts, early-on radars, terminals for underwater communications cables etc. But later in the Cold War, particularly paced by developments in satellites, there was developed a whole range of new basing requirements: various form of communications, satellite downlinks and control stations, satellite surveillance, sonar submarine tracking networks, early warning for ballistic missile attacks, elaborate networks of radars, nuclear detection facilities and many more. Technologically speaking, military operations and the bases that support them had moved into several dimensions and the relations between them, i.e., naval and land surfaces, the underseas, the airspace and outer space. That is, there were many, many new types of bases in addition to traditional naval bases and army installations. Early on in the Cold War, the U.S. and Soviet basing networks tended to be separate and demarcated, but also rivalrous. As the Soviets leapfrogged the rimland alliance structure set up by the U.S. in the 1950s – Syria, Egypt, Libya, Algeria, China, Guinea, Angola, Mozambique, Ethiopia, South Yemen, India, Cuba, Vietnam – the rival basing points came more to be cheek-by-jowl, interpenetrated. Scenarios for “protracted conventional phase” warfare came to dwell on possible rival efforts to “pick off” the enemy’s bases and, hence, to tilt the balance of power in global conflict. But, that never came to pass, in part because the dangers of escalation of conflict to the nuclear level precluded a more modern version of conflict “beyond the line,” i.e., outside Europe, that was an earlier tradition. The two superpowers eyed each others’ bases, engaged in a cold war of nerves, but never directly attacked their rivals’ bases.

7

After the Cold War Basing in a unipolar system

In the period 1989–1991, the Cold War came to a somewhat sudden and unexpected end and, with it, the bipolar U.S.–USSR global competition for bases also ended. The Soviet external basing structure – Cuba, Vietnam, Syria, Angola, Mozambique, Algeria, Guinea, Ethiopia, Mongolia et al. – collapsed almost completely, leaving small remnants only in Georgia and Kyrghizstan. British and French overseas access had already been diminished in consonance with the withering of remnant colonial assets, leaving islands such as Ascension and Diego Garcia in the former case, and a few places in Africa such as Djibouti in the latter. What remained in a system now perhaps to be characterized as largely unipolar, was a still very extensive if a bit reduced and modified U.S. basing structure, leaving the U.S. to appear as a virtual colossus with an unrivalled and unparalleled structure of global access, now added to by bases in Eastern Europe and former Soviet “socialist republics” in Central Asia.1 Technological change, meanwhile, proceeded apace, to some extent reducing U.S. overseas basing requirements as longer ranges for aircraft and expanded functions for satellites became realities. Meanwhile, the lesser perceived requirements for U.S.-provided security, absent the Soviet threat, led some nations to curtail U.S. access, a situation perhaps abetted by the events following 9/11. That in turn led to the beginnings of serious attention to sea basing and CONUSbasing, as U.S. planners, looking at newer possible scenarios, began to worry about other nations’ decoupling from the U.S. security orbit. By 2005, all of the above was enmeshed in the newer world of threats from WMD, terrorism, Islamic radicalism and the rise of “hegemonic China.”

The collapse of the Soviet basing structure, rise of China As a wholly odd and unexpected event, the Soviet Union’s basing structure totally collapsed as the once powerful bipolar hegemon itself dissolved in the period 1989–1991. In a short period of time, Soviet air and naval bases in such disparate client states and allies as Cuba, Vietnam, Cambodia, South Yemen, Syria, Angola, Guinea, Ethiopia and Mozambique, and all of the Warsaw Pact countries including Mongolia, vanished, as did Soviet naval access to other countries heretofore somewhat aligned with Moscow, i.e., India, Algeria,

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Congo-Brazzaville, Ethiopia and others. In the absence of actual warfare or the “system leader lineage” effect, this was historically unprecedented, save perhaps the earlier partial analogy of Ming China, whose leadership, still intact in China itself, gave up its naval expeditions to, and access to, ports in and around the Indian Ocean. Simultaneously, Soviet (now Russian) arms transfers and security assistance to most former basing hosts largely dried up, with some exceptions in Syria, India, perhaps Angola. By the early twenty-first century, Russian external basing access was retained only in Georgia, Kyrghizstan and Tajikistan.2 In the former, remnant Russian access had to do with support to separatists in Abkhazia and the pursuit of Islamic extremists harbored in Georgia. As of 2001, there were 5000 Russian ground troops plus an air regiment with cargo planes and helicopters in Georgia, and another 3000 troops serving with peacekeeping units in Abkhazia and South Ossetia.3 In Armenia there were 3000 ground troops and an air defense squadron with 14 MIG-29s, and a battery of air defense missiles. In Kyrghizstan, in an odd twist, Russian permission for its ex-socialist republic to host U.S. bases after 9/11 in proximity to Afghanistan was followed by re-establishment of Russian bases to balance what became unwanted (for the Russians) U.S. access.4 There, Russian officers command Kyrghiz border guard troops. And in nearby Tajikistan, there were 8200 ground troops and Russian officers commanding the 14,500 strong frontier forces. Whether an increasingly resurgent Russia would seek bases elsewhere in its former empire, perhaps to be greased by security assistance or the leverage of oil and gas supplies, remains to be seen. Finally, in 2001, the Russians still occupied ABM radar stations in Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan (Balkhash), and an air defense missile test range in the latter at Emba.

China – an incipient basing structure for a rising superpower? By 2005, the press and journals were full of projections about the inevitable rise of China as a hegemonic bipolar rival to the U.S. (or, as one leg of an incipient tripolar system with the EU as third leg).5 Those projections were underpinned by extrapolated GDP data that predicted, at some point around say 2040, the Chinese GDP would exceed that of the U.S. And, as China’s industrial machine gathered steam, and as the usage of oil grew immensely in consonance with a huge increase in automobile ownership, the press was likewise full of articles detailing China’s growing thirst for oil and non-fuel mineral imports, particularly in a variety of African nations.6 Military might was expected inevitably to match growing economic power. And, that raised the question of future Chinese external basing, perhaps particularly around the Indian Ocean and in proximity to the Persian Gulf, as the prospect of heightened competition for resources loomed. So far, by 2006, little had occurred, but China was beginning to move towards the Persian Gulf. There had been reports of Chinese technical facilities

After the Cold War 149 in the Coco Islands, off the coast of Myanmar (an arms recipient of China), deemed likely referenced to the Indian naval presence in the Bay of Bengal and naval base at Port Blair. And, there was Chinese economic activity at Gwadar, a Pakistani port west of Karachi once of U.S. concern in relation to the USSR, and the deepening of a harbor in Bangladesh. Apparently this involved development of a deep water port that could accommodate large ships. And, there were hints of increasing security ties with Saudi Arabia, whose oil resources were prized by China. For the future, who knows? Much would depend on the extent China decided to proceed with a long-range blue water navy in line with its overall growth in power.7

Other powers’ external basing With the U.S. all alone as a possessor of a truly global presence, and China’s future in this respect unclear, Britain and France continued to maintain some limited basing assets outside of Europe, in the former case also made available to the U.S. But, with the EU’s growing power and cohesion, and its evident ambition to play a larger role on the world’s stage, maybe even to become a strategic rival to the U.S., there looms the inevitable question of enhanced basing access in consonance with growing economic and political might. Stated another way, there is the question of whether the limited but still significant basing assets now maintained by the U.K. and France, all of them remnants of the earlier extensive empires, could form the nucleus of what might be an expanded global system of access for a future EU. By 2006, Britain, outside of Europe, maintained a presence in its own possessions, mainly islands, in Gibraltar, Ascension, the Falklands and Diego Garcia. Gibraltar, usable as an air and naval base, contained small detachments from all of the services.8 Ascension, earlier used to base Vulcan bombers in 1982 for bombing raids on the Falklands, has only a small RAF detachment, and is also available for the USAF. A frigate or destroyer are based at Diego alongside a larger U.S. naval presence. In the Falklands, a destroyer or frigate and RAF Tornadoes, Hercules, and a VC-10 tanker are permanently based for deterrence purposes vis-à-vis Argentina. Another destroyer moves back and forth between the West Indies and West Africa. Small army detachments are based in Afghanistan, Belize, Kenya, Kuwait, Nepal (to train Gurkhas), Oman, and Sierra Leone; a larger force of two infantry battalions, helicopters and an engineering group are on Cyprus. There are nearly 10,000 troops in Iraq, 22,000 in Germany including an armored division, and smaller RAF detachments in Belgium and the Netherlands; also some 1120 troops in Brunei, mostly Gurkhas. These deployments have not changed much over the past decade, save a reduction of forces in Germany and removal of forces and bases in Hong Kong. France had a smaller overseas empire than Britain, but has retained a perhaps more significant basing presence in former colonies: the Antilles, French Guyana, Chad, Ivory Coast, Djibouti, Gabon and Senegal.9 Mirage fighter aircraft are based in Djibouti and Chad, along with regiments of army forces, while

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Gabon, Ivory Coast and Senegal have small army units plus helicopter and reconnaissance aircraft. Several of these countries, i.e., Djibouti, Chad and Senegal, are now also providing forms of access to the U.S. in relation to antiterrorist operations. Air, naval and army units are also based in Martinique, French Guyana, New Caledonia, Tahiti, La Reunion and Mayotte, all overseas French possessions, with Reunion supporting an Indian Ocean Squadron. Some 3200 troops remain in Germany, including elements of the Franco-German Eurocorps. Overall, the French overseas presence, like that of the British, has remained quite stable in the post-Cold War period, excepting the loss of an earlier significant army presence in the Central African Republic. Again, all in all, the combined French and British basing assets comprise what could be the core of an expanded EU basing network of the future. Of course, the future could see a resumption of Western solidarity and, hence the continued availability of British and French assets for the U.S. or NATO. The U.S. now uses Diego Garcia and Ascension, and has access in Djibouti and Senegal alongside the French military. An expanded U.S. presence in Africa could result in more of the latter.

The unipolar U.S. Empire post-Cold War After the 1989–1991 gradual ending of the Cold War and the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the U.S. was left as a global colossus with a global reach, featuring an extensive basing structure. To be sure, some points of access were lost or abandoned due to the new international situation, just as others were gained. The following major trends were in evidence between 1990 and 2006, also spanning the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in 2001 and 2003. • •

• •

•

•

A loss or reduction of the U.S. basing network after the Cold War in Spain, Greece, Turkey, the Philippines and elsewhere in Europe. The drawing down of air, naval and ISR assets all around the European rimland that, hitherto, had been directed against the USSR, if only for deterrence purposes. An elaboration of the U.S. basing network in and around the Persian Gulf, both before and after Desert Storm. Acquisition of important new bases in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, in the latter case in connection with Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. A new geopolitical configuration of global presence in relation to the “arc of crisis” in the Greater Middle East (North Africa, core Middle East, Central Asia, South Asia, Horn of Africa), accelerated after 2001. A newer emphasis on basing in relation to terrorism and WMD proliferation, focused on Africa as well as the Greater Middle East.

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Loss of access, post-Cold War Though the trend began towards the end of the Cold War, the phased end of that conflict saw the curtailing of U.S. access in some places, again because of the re-assertion of sovereignty and dignity on the part of some erstwhile U.S. allies, and perceptions of the lesser need for the U.S. deterrent umbrella vis-à-vis the USSR, now Russia in truncated form. As it happens, there had been losses of access in some places before the end of the Cold War in relation to the vicissitudes of domestic politics; in Thailand, Iran (after 1979), Greece (accession of left-wing regime) and in Spain, from which access for U.S. combat aircraft was transferred to Italy. And in other places – Japan, Australia, the Philippines, Turkey, the U.K., Iceland – the extent of U.S. access became a political issue even before the end of the Cold War. After the end of the Cold War, most importantly, the Philippines, ever-conscious of its earlier colonial tutelage, forced the U.S. to abandon its major bases at Subic Bay and Clark Air Force Base (in the former case occasioning a major U.S. diplomatic effort to find a replacement, eventuating in far greater use of a naval facility in Singapore). But, of course, the end of the Cold War automatically reduced the need for a U.S. basing presence all around the Eurasian rim directed now at a truncated but less hostile USSR/Russia.10 This was particularly the case with regards to nuclear weapons. All ground-based tactical nuclear weapons were removed by arms control agreements on both sides of the former Cold War forward line of troops (FLOT). The number of U.S. air bases in Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium etc. (also contingency bases in Denmark) and their associated permanently stationed aircraft was reduced. Nuclear-armed F111Es stationed in the U.K. were removed. Long kept under wraps, the nuclear weapons storage sites in Iceland were also presumably removed. And, over the course of the 1990s and beyond, the U.S. land-force presence in Germany, once involving more than 300,000 troops, was cut by more than two-thirds.11 Likewise, various ISR facilities were eliminated, for instance, a variety of technical facilities in Turkey, and the SOSUS facilities in Iceland, the U.K., Turkey, Italy etc. And also, the “boomers,” i.e., SSBNs, were withdrawn from Holy Loch as the U.S. came to rely entirely on SSBN bases in Georgia (U.S.) and the state of Washington. Somewhat paradoxically, and just as the Cold War was drawing to an end with the aborted coup in Russia, the dissolution of the USSR and the devolvement of its component parts, there was the almost open-ended use of facilities and overhead airspace utilized by the U.S. (and its allies) for the conduct of the 1990–1991 Gulf War.12 For Desert Shield/Desert Storm, backed by a UN collective security mandate, and with the crucial political support of endangered Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, and other Gulf Cooperation Council states, and Egypt, the U.S. was denied needed or requested access almost nowhere, the minor exceptions being Jordan and Yemen, which backed Iraq during the crisis. There was some internal political opposition to U.S. air staging rights provided by Thailand and India (the latter then still in a somewhat frigid political relationship with the U.S., only later altered in the Bush-43 administration). Full use of

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tactical air bases, air command and control centers, tanker bases and overhead air space was provided by nearby Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Oman, Qatar and Egypt; en route access by Morocco, Kenya, all of the “old” European states, all of the “new” European states, and even Russia. Large combat units, divisionsized, were moved from Germany to the theater of war. Prepositioned matériel in Diego Garcia and the GCC states was married to troops coming from Europe and the continental U.S. (CONUS). U.S. fleet units were availed of basing access in the Mediterranean and in various places in the northwest Indian Ocean as well as transit through the Suez Canal. It was, for the U.S., a halcyon moment as pertains to permissiveness of U.S. basing access, a part of what was involved in attributions of “hyperpower” and “empire of bases.” In the aftermath of the Gulf War and through the Clinton Administration, the U.S. continued, in less demanding circumstances, to have nearly full freedom of access to needed bases. In the Bosnia and Kosovo crises, in both cases where U.S. and European NATO allies’ policies were mostly coordinated and in synch, the U.S. made extensive use of facilities in Italy and Germany, in the former case flying a lot of missions out of the air base at Aviano. And, by this time, former Soviet bloc countries in Eastern Europe, now incipient candidates for admission to NATO, were glad to help out. Hungary provided valuable access for forces and logistics engaged in the Bosnian conflict and its fragile aftermath. Albania, long divorced even from the Warsaw Pact and tied to China during the Hoxha regime, provided land and air access for U.S. forces during the Kosovo imbroglio. U.S. forces were able to operate within Macedonia as well in peacekeeping operations. During this long and still relatively uneventful period preceding 9/11, the U.S. drew down its forces and base structure in Europe retaining, however, what was essential. In Asia, with a possible hegemonic rivalry with China looming and the situation in Korea still unresolved, the U.S. retained most of its earlier force deployments and basing structure in South Korea and Japan, also in Australia, and beefed up its presence in Guam and its access to a naval base in Singapore. Then came 9/11 and, subsequently, the requirements for access to conduct a major military operation in Afghanistan. And by this time, the rise of radical Islamic political currents throughout the Middle East rendered U.S. access somewhat less assured than had been the case in 1990, in some places at least. For instance, the U.S. had been denied use of some Saudi facilities and also the use of Saudi airspace for Tomahawk missiles’ overflights for some of the sporadic retaliation raids against Iraq during the Clinton years. And, the USAF control and communications center near Riyadh had had to be moved to Qatar, all of this because of mounting pressures on the Saudi ruling elites by Islamic fundamentalists unhappy with the U.S. presence in the kingdom. During Operation Enduring Freedom the U.S. had crucial use of air and other bases in Qatar, the UAE and Oman – the three air bases in the latter were used to mount many air strikes to Afghanistan.13 B-2 bombers based at Whiteman AFB in Missouri flew long-range bombing missions to and from Afghanistan, availed of refueling in Diego Garcia.14 In a startling new development, former Soviet

After the Cold War 153 socialist republics Kyrghizstan, Uzbekistan and Tadzhikistan provided bases for U.S. aircraft and helicopters, with a green light given reluctantly by Moscow. For these operations, the USAF utilized 55 KC-10 tankers and 550 smaller KC-135s (the Marines have 75 KC-130s and the Navy 110 carrier-based S-3Bs).15 Pakistan, under U.S. pressure because of its previous support of the Taliban regime, and fearing a U.S. green light for an Indian invasion aimed at its nuclear facilities, allowed for overflights of U.S. aircraft, including carrier planes, and for heliborne and special forces operations mounted from Pakistani territory. Finally, never publicly revealed, numerous nations – for instance in Eastern Europe, Turkey, the Caucasus – clearly allowed U.S. overflights en route to Afghanistan. That much may be inferred from a glance at the map. The sole seeming problem, perhaps a harbinger of the future, appeared to be with Saudi Arabia. For Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) in 2003, and in its long and still unresolved aftermath, the U.S. had fully adequate, but in some cases limited, basing access. Bases throughout “Old Europe” and “New Europe” were available, including the crucial Ramstein AFB and the nearby military hospital in Landstuhl in Germany. The U.K., Italy and Spain, all in 2003 under the control of political forces friendly to the Bush-43 Administration, were all helpful to the military operations. Indeed, despite the hostility to OIF on the part of large segments of the publics and political elites in “Old Europe,” about the only restriction on U.S. overflights, itself irrelevant, was imposed by Switzerland. “New Europe” was fully permissive of U.S. access, with Romania, Bulgaria etc. providing air transit access. That was likewise the case for Australia, Diego Garcia (U.K.), Djibouti and all of the Gulf Cooperation Council states, with Kuwait acting as a launching pad for the bulk of ground operations. However, Saudi Arabia was not very important to OIF, the USAF having moved its command and control operations to Qatar and being availed of access to air bases for tactical aircraft and tankers in Kuwait, Qatar, the UAE and Oman. Egypt was cited in the open press as restrictive of access (the Egyptian public was hostile to the purposes of OIF), but in a quiet way, air staging, transit of the Suez canal and use of a military hospital closer to Iraq than Landstuhl, were all provided by this major recipient of U.S. security assistance. Meanwhile, Jordan, closed to U.S. access in 1990–1991 as the Kingdom was afraid to identify with the U.S. because of its majority Palestinian population, allowed for U.S. Special Forces operations to be mounted from within its borders to the western Iraqi desert before and during OIF. The main problem for the U.S. was Turkey, long a staunch U.S. ally and provider of elaborate basing access, and long a recipient of extensive U.S. security assistance. But Turkey had fallen under the political control of an Islamicoriented government which had also loosened then burgeoning ties with Israel, and the Turkish public had become less friendly to the U.S. Also, Turkey badly wanted membership in the European Union, and there were hints of quiet pressure from governments in France and Germany against Turkey’s allowing for U.S. basing access with EU membership used as leverage. Turkey subsequently allowed some U.S. use of air facilities, for instance, for medical evacuations, but

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denied the U.S. use of Turkish soil for the 4th Infantry Division, which was on ships offshore the Turkish port of Iskenderun, poised to enter Turkey and attack Iraq from the north. That division then had to be shipped through the Suez Canal and around the Persian Gulf to Kuwait, too late for it to be a major participant in the conventional phase of conflict. In the aftermath of OIF, extending up to 2006, the fundamental aspects of the U.S. global basing presence had shifted, markedly so, in a geopolitical sense. Up to 1990, that had, fundamentally, involved a largely rimland basing structure – Iceland to Hokkaido – around the Eurasian supercontinent, involving air, sea, land and ISR facilities directed against the USSR and, still to a degree, China. By 2006, an altered structure had emerged, geographically focused on the interlocking “arcs of crisis,” Morocco to India, the Horn of Africa to the Caucasus and Central Asia. Earlier, the fundamental problem was the containment of Soviet expansionism. Now, there was a more complex set of threats, involving WMD, the “axis of evil,” terrorism, mostly that by non-state actors, and access to oil and gas in a potentially worsening supply and demand situation. The most significant shifts in the U.S. basing structure had taken place in the Persian Gulf area, the Horn of Africa and Central Asia, all of which had been gradually produced by the progression from the Carter Doctrine and start-up of the RDF (in response to the Iranian revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan); the tanker reflagging operation in the Persian Gulf towards the end of the Iran–Iraq war; Desert Shield/Desert Storm; OEF and OIF. By 2006, the U.S. had acquired a surprisingly massive basing structure in the Persian Gulf area and in Central Asia, including Afghanistan. There were about a dozen air and army bases in the latter, including air bases at Bagram, Kandahar and Mazar-e-Sharif. Quietly, next door, and in relation to the ongoing conflict in Afghanistan, access was provided by Pakistan to bases at Jacobabad, Dalbandin, Pasni and Shamsi.16 In the former Soviet Central Asian republics, and in the face of Russian complaints, the USAF used bases at Manas near the Kyrghiz capital of Bishkek and at Khanabad in Uzbekistan.17 In Turkey, the U.S. continued to have access to the long-occupied main air base at Incirlik.18 In the African Horn, Djibouti hosted facilities for the U.S. Navy and for Special Forces units dealing with terrorist problems in the Arabian Peninsula.19 Kenya provided access for U.S. operations in Somalia. But despite the U.S. drawdown of its earlier basing structure in Saudi Arabia (now with some residual access to Sultan Air Base near Riyadh), the guts of the U.S. Persian Gulf basing structure was in the other GCC states: Oman, the UAE, Qatar, Bahrain and Kuwait.20 In Oman, USAF bases at Seeb, Masirah and Thumrait were heavily used for operations in OEF, given the favorable location to circumvent Iranian airspace, but to use Pakistani airspace. The USN also used a base in Oman at Masirah. In the UAE the USAF had use of an air base at Al Dhafra and the USN a naval base at Jebel Ali. Qatar’s air bases at Sheik Isa and Al Udaid were also available, the latter having become a main command and control center. In Bahrain, the USN continued to homeport a squadron at Manama and in Kuwait, U.S. army brigades were maintained plus two main

After the Cold War 155 USAF bases at Ali Al Salem and Ahmed Al Jabber. It might be surmised that the GCC states, absent Saudi Arabia, were anxious to keep a U.S. presence despite the implications regarding Islamic fundamentalism and in the face of continuing U.S. support for Israel, just because of fears of a Saudi upheaval, the aftermath of which might require provision of security by the U.S.

A new Pentagon typology of basing As indicated in recent DOD publications, basing access has come to be viewed along a spectrum involving a three way typology of: Main Operating Base (MOB), Forward Operating Site (FOS) and Cooperative Security Location (CSL). The MOBs, according to Strengthening U.S. Global Defense Posture, involve “permanently stationed combat forces and robust infrastructure,” and “will be characterized by command and control structures, family support facilities, and strengthened force protection measures.”21 Examples mentioned in this document are Ramstein AFB, Kadena Air Base and Camp Humphreys (Korea). Others that might fit that category are the air bases at Thumrait, Seeb and Masirah in Oman, and Al Udeid in Qatar. Others might be the naval base at Yokosuka, the complex of bases on Guam, perhaps the naval facilities at Singapore, Diego Garcia, maybe the air and army bases in Kuwait, and the main army bases in Germany at Baumholder, Wurzburg, Wiesbaden, Friedberg, Schweinfurt and Vilseck. An FOS, meanwhile, is defined as a “forward operating site” which “will be an expandable warm facility maintained with a limited U.S. military support presence and possibly prepositioned equipment.”22 “FOSs will support rotational rather than permanently stationed forces and be a focus for bilateral and regional training.” Examples cited in this report are the Sembawang port facility in Singapore (elsewhere reported to be a approaching, de facto, an MOB) and Soto Cano Air Base in Honduras. Other USAF bases around the world that, as measured by permanently stationed personnel might qualify as FOBs, are Keflavik in Iceland, RAF Lakenheath and RAF Mildenhall in the U.K., Spangdahlem in Germany, Aviano in Italy, Incirlik in Turkey, Utapao in Thailand and Atsugi NAS in Japan. Of course, the newer facilities being expanded and utilized in Bulgaria and Romania fit this model, as do some of the facilities hosted in the smaller Persian Gulf countries. Expansion of the U.S. facility at Sigonella in Sicily (during the Cold War, mostly a USN P-3 base) would presumably also fit this model. CSLs are defined as “facilities” with little or no permanent U.S. presence: “Instead, they will be maintained with periodic service, contractor, or hostnation support.” And, “CSLs will provide contingency access and be a focal point for security cooperation activities.”23 According to the DOD documents, Dakar, Senegal is one example of this model, where the USAF “has negotiated contingency landing, logistics, and final contracting arrangements and which served as a staging area for the 2003 peace support operation in Liberia.”24 According to a recent article in the Christian Science Monitor, absent the acronyms and Pentagon jargon, cooperative security arrangements of this sort

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are being set up in several African countries: Chad, Djibouti, Uganda, Kenya, Niger, Mauritania, Mali, Senegal, Nigeria and Algeria, among others.25 Obviously, the main thrust here is in the direction of a very limited number of MOBs to lessen the U.S. overseas footprint, and an expanded number of FOBs and CSLs to accommodate lighter and more mobile forces for a variety of contingencies, as outlined above.

The basis of basing: the U.S. at the outset of the twenty-first century Conquest As discussed in our historical review of this subject, user nations have acquired basing access in one of three basic ways: by conquest and/or colonization; by providing security or protection for the host via formal alliances or less formal arrangements still implying protection; and by the use of tangible quid pro quo, i.e., security assistance, arms transfers, subsidies or, in effect, “rents.” In the more recent context for the U.S., the first of these categories, conquest, has more or less been precluded by now well established international norms or “laws.” But, some critics of the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003 saw enhanced basing access as a motive, even if subsidiary in the former case to eradicating the Taliban and Al Qaeda, and eliminating the Saddam regime and its (assumed) WMD programs in the latter. By 2005, the U.S., having installed what became a democratically elected government in Afghanistan, but still fighting a new insurgency and helping to defend the new Karzai regime, had established an elaborate basing structure in that country. How long that would be retained remained to be seen, given the uncertainties of the continuing hunt for Osama Bin Laden, the WMD menace in Pakistan and Iran, etc. In Afghanistan, as of 2005, the U.S. had some 15 major air and army facilities, including the air bases at Bagram, Kandahar and Masar-e-Sharif, and numerous large army bases. How long those could be maintained, now perhaps less a matter of conquest than cooperation with the new Karzai government, remained to be seen. In Iraq also, army barracks, headquarters etc. for some 135,000 troops, plus several major air bases, remained under U.S. control after the installation of the new government in 2005. How long these could be retained at the discretion of a Shi’a dominated government, particularly as the bases are somewhat dedicated to the possibility of conflict in Iran or Syria, remained to be seen.

Provision of security: alliances, extended deterrence, the changing international system, shifts in basing hosts’ domestic politics During the Cold War, a large number of U.S. basing hosts provided the U.S. access at least in part because it provided assurance against Soviet or Chinese

After the Cold War 157 aggression. The term “extended deterrence” was often used to describe this relationship. Nowadays, that may still be applicable in a number of cases, for example, Japan, South Korea, perhaps again the Philippines to a degree, even Vietnam. Access in Georgia and some of the ex-Soviet states in Central Asia might be included in relation to a possibly resurgent and revisionist Russia. Around the Persian Gulf, states are made secure against Iranian aggression and maybe reassured about the possible implications of a Saudi Islamic fundamentalist revolution. And, a growing number of nations – the Philippines, some in Africa – may see a U.S. presence as deterring terrorists. However, these scenarios are for the most part narrowly specific, representing extrapolations from current problems and scenarios. Perhaps absent here is the broader picture of a changing but indeterminate international system’s structure that may heavily impact future scenarios, formal and informal alliances, hence basing access. Cold War bipolarity based largely on an ideological divide has now given way to a degree of unipolarity (in military terms, at least) heavily reflected by the facts of basing dominance, admixed with an incipient though asymmetric multipolarity, the poles of which are the U.S., the EU, Russia, China, Japan, India and perhaps a nascent radical “Islamic world.” Save the remnants of communism and the growing ideological-religious nature of Islamic radicalism, the new system is largely devoid of an ideological basis for enmity and friendship, hence allowing, as was the case in the European state system of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, for rapidly shifting alliances based on short-term or medium-term expediency and balance of power considerations. Russia’s recent oscillation between orientations towards China (arms transfers, coalescence vis-à-vis the U.S.), the EU (ganging up on the U.S.), and the U.S. (common front against Islamic terrorism) may be a harbinger of things to come as well as a reminder of the past. And for the future? The West versus the rest? The U.S. aligned with Japan, India and maybe Russia against rising Chinese global hegemony, with the EU as a “balancer” and Islam aligned with China?26 As a far-out scenario, Japan kowtows to China and joins in an all-Asia front to drive U.S. power out of Asia? There are varied possibilities, and again, the possibilities for rapid and frequent shifts. At another level, juxtaposed to big-power multipolarity, nuclear proliferation will be critical, and it would appear that there will be numerous new entrants to the “nuclear club.” North Korea (maybe later a nuclear-armed united Korea), Iran, maybe Egypt, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Taiwan, Japan, Australia and Indonesia, are all technically capable of joining the club. What will be the impact of all of this on basing and, specifically, on the U.S. basing posture? In the past, multipolar systems devoid of long-term stable alliances usually have resulted in the absence of, or limits on, large-scale basing systems. Today’s “friend” is tomorrow’s rival and someone else’s “friend.” And, nuclear proliferation would appear to portend the decoupling of alliances because of the intimidation factor (or, to the contrary, might impel an increase in the protection/security factor featuring missile defense systems). Will Japan, China, Russia, India, the EU, all develop effective BMD systems? And, to what extent will some of these major powers be able to provide security assistance as

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quid pro quo for basing themselves, or to deny basing access to the U.S.? On the whole, decoupling and a very constrained environment for U.S. basing might be predicted – and hence further lead to reliance on sea-basing or CONUS-basing schemes, but all of this is uncertain. But, the effective use of security assistance might alter that equation. All things considered, basing access has become more ad hoc and situational since the end of the Cold War and, with it, the weakening of the formal alliance structure constructed by the U.S. during that protracted struggle. During the Cold War, the U.S. was able, almost always, to utilize its overseas facilities and the airspace of friendly nations for a variety of missions. For instance, air bases in Japan, the Philippines and Thailand were used to prosecute the war in Vietnam. U-2 aircraft were flown over the USSR from bases in Turkey, Germany, the U.K., Pakistan and Japan. Germany was used as a jumping-off point for American intervention in Lebanon in 1958. Various nations allowed access for satellite downlinks in connection with nuclear early warning and satellite control: Germany, Australia, the U.K., the Seychelles, even Madagascar for a period. The U.K., Turkey, Italy and Taiwan allowed for forward-basing of land-based missiles aimed at the USSR and China. There were few exceptions where the U.S. was not allowed access – denial of airspace by France and Spain for the raid on Libya in 1986 was one such example. But, also, numerous nations were tied to the USSR, allowed it access, and denied same to the U.S.: Cuba, Vietnam, Cambodia, South Yemen, Iraq, Libya, India and the whole contiguous Warsaw Pact bloc from Eastern Europe to Mongolia. The keys here, in the prior period, were systems structure (a bipolar struggle with ideological cement on both sides), shared threats and U.S. protection of basing hosts, and perhaps a lower level of the anti-Americanism that is the hallmark of contemporary diplomacy.

Security assistance The third category, in the current context, relates primarily to the use of security assistance as a quid pro quo for basing access. During the Cold War, some of the largest recipients of U.S. security assistance – Turkey, Greece, Spain, Portugal, the Philippines – all were providers of critically needed access for the U.S. There are several categories of security assistance: the Foreign Military Financing Program, the International Military Education and Training (IMET) program and the Economic Support Fund.27 Around the globe some 74 countries receive Foreign Military Financing, some 130 receive IMET, some 26 receive money from the Economic Support Fund, which is also used to support multilateral programs concerning regional democracy, regional womens’ issues, various regional democratization and administration of justice funds etc. Several points stand out regarding the current structure of U.S. security assistance, primarily the dominance of the numbers by Egypt and Israel. Also standing out is the huge number of countries receiving U.S. funds from one or more of the aforementioned sources, more than two-thirds of the world’s some 190

After the Cold War 159 sovereign nations. And many that now receive such assistance are former Soviet allies and arms clients (also former Soviet republics), many of which provided Moscow basing access and overflight rights: Egypt, Yemen, Algeria, Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Romania, Slovakia, Ethiopia/Eritrea, Congo-Brazzaville, Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Madagascar, Mali, Mozambique, Angola, Mongolia, India, Cambodia among them. Regarding the FMFP, Egypt and Israel are the largest recipients, and this pertains primarily to supporting the Camp David “peace process,” though Egypt has provided the U.S. some access in recent times. The figures for Latin America are low, correlating with low levels of conflict and strategic threat and the nearabsence of U.S. bases (Colombia and Ecuador have had significant support in relation to drug interdiction, Honduras has been cited). Earlier, the U.S. had provided large amounts of security assistance, up in the range of $500 million annually, to a small number of key basing hosts: Portugal (the Azores), Spain, Greece, Turkey, Thailand, the Philippines. Now, aside from the billions of dollars required to support the Egypt–Israel Camp David accords, money is spread out in small amounts to a much larger number of recipients. Some are near the range of the former key hosts: Jordan (near half a billion) and Afghanistan ($190 million). In Jordan’s case, underwriting the “peace process” is involved, but perhaps also needed U.S. access in the Iraq war. Djibouti, along with the Philippines, has the largest account from the Economic Support Fund, around $25 million, no doubt reflecting its role in providing U.S. military access. U.S.–Philippines collaboration on the war on terrorism is germane here. The IMET amounts are small, only a handful above $1 million per year: the Philippines, Malaysia, Thailand, India, Senegal, South Africa, Colombia, Mexico, Turkey, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Argentina, Colombia, El Salvador, Egypt, Jordan, Morocco, Oman, Tunisia, Yemen, Bulgaria, Czech Republic, Estonia, Georgia, Hungary, Kazahkstan, Kyrghiz Republic, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Poland and Romania. The relation to basing access is clear in many of these cases. Regarding FMF funding in 2003–2004, aside from Egypt and Israel, only Jordan, Oman, Morocco, Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Macedonia, Poland, Georgia, Turkey, Colombia, the Philippines and Pakistan had numbers over $20 million, modest sums. Hence, it would appear that in many cases, all over the world, relatively small increases in absolute levels of assistance would represent large proportional jumps. Such increases could judiciously be used in exchange for enhanced access. What is potentially involved was illustrated in a recent Christian Science Monitor article that detailed cooperative security and training exercises in various African states, reflective of the emphasis on “activities” as outlined in the recent DOD report to Congress. The focus is on counter-terrorist training, particularly in and around the Sahara Desert and the Sahel, a band of land south of the Sahara and that runs east to west across Africa. Further, “these are vast lawless lands where terrorists linked to Al Qaeda are known to operate – and where the region’s large Muslim populations sometimes offer support or sympathy to extremists.”28 As elsewhere noted, and in this connection, the U.S. has

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been working to develop north–south air corridors to support military operations. And then, there are the promising oilfields around and near the Gulf of Guinea – Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Angola, Chad, Equatorial Guinea, Sao Tome and Principe; additionally, the reports that China, perhaps the U.S.’s future hegemonic rival, has been scouring the African continent to line up deals regarding a variety of non-fuel natural resources. The CSM article details U.S. forces training “locals” in Chad, Botswana, Niger, Mauritania, Mali and Djibouti – the latter now has some 2000 U.S. troops poised to launch anti-terrorist operations in the Horn of Africa or the southern part of the Arabian Peninsula. The amounts of IMET targeted for these countries range from around $100,000 or $200,000 per year, on up to about $1 million for Senegal, which has been designated as a CSL, where in Dakar, “the Air Force has negotiated contingency landing, logistics and fuel contracting arrangements, and which served as a staging area for the 2003 peace support operation in Liberia.”29

Future scenarios requiring U.S. basing access, and a relevant conflict typology The heart of the problem of global posture is that of the future of U.S. access in relation to a wide variety of possible scenarios in a context of ambiguous threats and uncertain alliances and international system structure. This has not always been the case. Before World War II, a more or less isolationist U.S. had very little in the way of overseas bases, mostly relegated (as was also the case on a much larger scale for Great Britain) to colonial possessions or protectorates, i.e., the Philippines, Guam, Wake Island, the Panama Canal Zone, Puerto Rico and Cuba. Then the Lend-Lease Act of 1940 provided the U.S. a string of bases on a 99-year lease, from Newfoundland to British Guyana. During the war, bases all over – Greenland, Iceland, the Azores, Acapulco, the Galapagos Islands, Recife and Fortaleza in Brazil – were provided by a host of countries. After World War II, the U.S. had, as noted, an elaborate alliance system that also provided bases via the colonial possessions of Britain, France, Portugal and the Netherlands. Numerous other bases were available all around the Eurasian rimland as a virtual given in alliance relationships. This made it easy for the U.S. to operate in conflicts large and small. In the Korean War, bases in Japan were about all that was needed. In the Vietnam War, the U.S. was availed of air and naval bases in Japan, Taiwan, the Philippines and Thailand. Before and during Desert Storm, access was available just about everywhere in Europe and the Middle East. Likewise, for a variety of contingencies large and small, the U.S. operated in a permissive environment for access because of numerous stable alliance and other client relationships, all underpinned by security assistance. As noted, things became tougher in 2003. At present, and for the future, the security environment is much more ambiguous, as are alliance relationships themselves. In place of a somewhat setpiece and stable twilight struggle against the Soviet Union and its allies, there is

After the Cold War 161 now a multilayered and fluid threat environment featuring terrorism, WMD proliferation, nation-building and peacekeeping in a variety of places, but also a looming hegemonic rivalry with China, maybe the EU, and maybe Russia again, in what combinations and sequences is not easily foreseen. It should be emphasized that even with the best analytical work, conflicts – and, hence, basing requirements – are not always so easily envisaged or predicted. Few people in the summer of 2001 could have predicted the need for U.S. access in Central Asian, ex-Soviet socialist republics to enable large-scale military operations in Afghanistan. Earlier, presumably, few British analysts foresaw the need for a large-scale forced entry invasion in the Falkland Islands under adverse weather conditions, and the critical associated requirement for access to a (British-owned) air base on Ascension Island. The critical role of Lajes AFB in the Azores for arms resupply to Israel in 1973 (which arguably averted the latter’s resort to nuclear weapons), was probably also only dimly perceived by defense planners. So, whatever the elaborateness of scenarios, surprises may be expected, including those that overwhelm “capabilities based analysis.” Scenarios for the future can be broken down into two basic levels, generic and specific. As noted, most current DOD open-source analyses tend to rely on the former, not just to organize the subject, but because the latter is politically sensitive in an ambiguous political environment in which identification of friends and foes may not be as clear as it was in the (in this respect) halcyon Cold War years. The generic scenario-types now commonly utilized are: traditional, irregular, catastrophic and disruptive. Traditional refers to the familiar force-on-force large-scale engagements such as the two world wars, the Korean War, Desert Storm, the Iran–Iraq War, the 1967 and 1973 Middle Eastern wars etc. In the academic literature, for instance, in the research emerging from the Correlates of War (COW) project, the relative scale of such conflicts is gauged by the variables of magnitude (number of combatants involved), severity (number of combat deaths) and the duration of war.30 Additionally, there is reference to the existence of “moving fronts,” i.e., an identifiable shifting demarcation of large-unit forces, analogous to a (American) football line of scrimmage. Or, there is a spectrum running from all-out conventional wars to various forms of “limited” conventional war, with Korea having been an example of war characterized by tacit geographical limits. Most of these conflicts are interstate wars, though the Chinese civil war in the late 1940s was an example of an intrastate conventional war. Irregular conflicts refer to a range of conflict types roughly similar to what is contained in the spectrum of low intensity warfare, the term in vogue in the 1980s and 1990s. That comprises guerrilla and insurgency warfare, civil wars (ethnic wars over territory and ideological wars over control of governments), coups, terrorism, border frictions, etc.31 Most of these wars, the latter case excepted, are of an intra-state nature. Over time, the dominant frequency of Marxist insurgencies gave way to “Reagan Doctrine” anti-communist insurgencies to, in the 1990s, the heyday of ethnic warfare.

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Catastrophic conflicts comprise those where large-scale casualties are caused by the use of WMDs, i.e., nuclear, biological, chemical and radiological warfare. Hypothetically, some forms of environmental warfare might also be envisaged. This can involve inter-state warfare or terrorist acts. In the former case, it could involve “bolt out of the blue” or preemptive attacks or, could result from the escalation of a conventional war up through rungs in the escalation ladder to the use of tactical, theater and strategic WMDs. Disruptive scenarios are perhaps more difficult to categorize than the others. Apparently they can comprise such things as EMP attacks that disrupt communications or “cyber warfare,” with or without an identifiable perpetrator. They can also apparently pertain to major political changes in nations via elections or significant shifts in foreign policy orientations that could heavily impact on the U.S. global presence. Again, the above generic scenario types seem largely a recasting of the conflict spectrum elaborated by various authors in the 1990s running from nuclear to conventional to limited conventional, to high, medium and low-intensity conflict.32 The shift towards a multipolar system somewhat devoid of ideological conflict, and the advent of new technological possibilities for conflict such as EMP and cyber-war, have added new dimensions to a comprehensive scenario menu. Specific scenarios: Again, in the Cold War, USG studies were open in acknowledgment of expected, or possible actual scenarios, mostly related to the then two “base cases,” war in Central Europe and war in the Persian Gulf, both expected to involve the USSR. War started in one of these theaters was feared to spread to the other via horizontal escalation. Korea was, in addition, long an additional mini-base case. Now, the scenarios considered are far more varied, with respect both to type (see above) and location. But, certain kinds of political sensitivities often now preclude discussing some scenarios that are closely held within the classified realm, most of which can be fitted into the aforementioned four-way typology (parentheses follow scenarios with generic conflict type noted). •

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U.S. involvement in helping defend Taiwan from a PRC invasion (or blockade), requiring access in Japan/Okinawa, Guam (assured), maybe the Philippines, Thailand, Vietnam, Australia, India [traditional, maybe also catastrophic]. U.S. involvement in defending the ROK, and/or preempting North Korean nuclear facilities, perhaps involving defense of Japan from missile attack, requiring access in ROK, Japan/Okinawa, Guam (assured), perhaps the Philippines (traditional, maybe also catastrophic).

Note: previous two scenarios involve minimal if not non-existent requirements for overhead access or air corridors, for obvious reasons. •

Military operations in Iran in connection with preemption of nuclear facilities and/or terrorism, requiring access in GCC states (Kuwait, Bahrain,

After the Cold War 163

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UAE, Qatar, Oman), Diego Garcia, perhaps Iraq, Turkey, Central Asian “stans,” air corridor over the Caucasus; also en route access in various places in Europe (Romania, Bulgaria, Germany), etc. (traditional, irregular, maybe catastrophic). Possible U.S. involvement in an India-Pakistan war, conventional or conventional/nuclear, involving coercive diplomacy, arms resupply (missile defense for India?), possible response to Pakistani “last resort” use of nuclear weapons. Missile shield from ships; requiring access to Diego Garcia, Oman, Djibouti, Singapore, maybe Australia and others. War could be in context of current political constellations, or with a more radical Islamic regime in Pakistan and the BJP returned to power in India (potentially catastrophic). Possible U.S. involvement in Saudi Arabia if it should be threatened with a revolution or coup, involving support of incumbent regime, or seizure of oilfields (disruptive, some chance of catastrophic terrorist response on CONUS). Requires access in Kuwait, Bahrain, UAE, Qatar, Oman, Egypt, Turkey, Djibouti, Yemen, Diego Garcia, maybe Israel; also en route access in Europe. Possible U.S. support of one or more among Qatar, UAE, Oman, Kuwait, Bahrain, Yemen, if threatened by a post-revolutionary radical Islamic regime in Saudi Arabia. Ditto if threat comes from a nuclear-armed Iran supporting Shi’a minorities in GCC states. Access required in above GCC states, Diego Garcia, Djibouti, Egypt, plus en route overhead access, various (irregular, disruptive). Arms resupply to Israel (perhaps also Egypt, simultaneously) in a large-scale conventional war involving Israel with some combination of Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, perhaps Iran and perhaps a more Islamic Turkey. Issue of Israeli use of nuclear weapons central; likewise, Iranian and Pakistani nuclear counter-deterrents. Possible use of U.S. anti-ballistic missiles based on ships to “shut down” nuclear war. Possible joint embargo on Egypt and Israel regarding arms resupply. Access required for staging and overflights in various European countries, i.e., Italy, Spain, Germany, possibly to be denied to disadvantage Israel (disruptive, maybe catastrophic). Possible Israeli use of nuclear weapons after conventional defeat (“Samson Option”), perhaps to include (permanent) destruction of Persian Gulf oilfields. Access requirements indeterminate (catastrophic). Arms re-supply to newly free and “democratic” Iraq in new war with Iran, requiring staging and overflight rights in Europe, Turkey, Jordan, maybe Syria. Or, arms resupply to Sunni Iraqis engaged in civil war with Iranbacked Shi’ites after U.S. withdrawal (disruptive). New fighting in Balkans requiring U.S. intervention and/or arms resupply – Bosnia, Kosovo, Macedonia. Access required in Italy, Hungary, Albania, maybe Slovenia (disruptive, irregular). Possible U.S. involvement in a variety of situations replying to terrorist acts, hostage-taking, WMD thefts and transit, etc.: Philippines, Malaysia,

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After the Cold War Thailand, Yemen, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Mali, Niger, Uganda, Nigeria, Mauritania, Senegal, many others, all over the world. Access requirements, scenarios almost open-ended (disruptive, irregular). The need to seize Persian Gulf oilfields in response to massive price increases, embargoes, preferential access to oil for EU, China, requiring access to Diego Garcia, Djibouti, Turkey, maybe Italy, Germany, Romania, Bulgaria, etc. (traditional or irregular, disruptive). The need to seize oilfields in Libya, Egypt, Algeria, also in relation to massive price increases, embargoes, preferential access given China, EU, requiring access to Italy, maybe Turkey, maybe Israel, Djibouti, Romania, Bulgaria (disruptive, traditional or irregular). The need to seize oilfields in Nigeria, Angola, Gabon, Congo, Equatorial Guinea, Sao Tome and Principe, Sudan, in response to massive rises in price, cut-offs elsewhere, requiring access to nearby states such as South Africa, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Ghana (disruptive, irregular or traditional). U.S. need to invade Syria regarding WMDs, terrorism, support for latter in Iraq, requiring access in Iraq, Turkey, maybe Israel, Italy, Germany, Romania, Bulgaria (traditional, catastrophic). U.S.–Russia clashes, or threat of same or run-up to same, over the Baltic states, Georgia, Azerbaijan, requiring access to Poland, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, Germany, maybe Turkey, Armenia, Iraq (incipient traditional, disruptive, catastrophic).

Looking at these myriad complex scenarios, a few points stand out. Mostly, that has to do with the foci on WMDs, terrorism, hegemonic rivalry with China and competition over scarce resources – particularly oil, but possibly also such minerals as iron ore and manganese – and the possible nexus between the latter two.36 The possession, existing or possibly pending, of nuclear weapons by Iran, Israel, India, Pakistan and North Korea, possibly later Egypt, Syria, Taiwan, among others, is at the heart of numerous scenarios. Islamic terror raises the possibility of conflict, and hence access requirements, in numerous areas spanning West, North and East Africa, the Middle East, South and Southeast Asia, Central Asia, etc. Hegemonic China looms large. And maybe ultimately of greatest importance, the supply–demand equation for oil looms large, what with the enormously increased demand by China and India (projected for a population of 1.6 billion) and other Asian countries. China is now getting oil in large quantities from Saudi Arabia, Oman, Angola, Iran, Russia, Sudan, Yemen, Congo, Equatorial Guinea and Indonesia.37 It is looking for additional sources in Chad, Canada and Peru, among other places. If the U.S. is embargoed or outfoxed in terms of oil supply, seizure of oilfields could be a last resort. And, again, many oilfields are located near coasts, subject to littoral warfare or more specifically (see later) attack from sea bases. That could involve, hypothetically, Venezuela, Algeria, Libya, Egypt, Iran, Yemen, Oman, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar, Nigeria, Congo, Gabon,

After the Cold War 165 Equatorial Guinea, Sao Tome and Principe, among others. That is a grim set of scenarios, but the basing implications of this problem may yet become vital. The menacing nature of these scenarios and their nearly open-ended diversity, may be driving capabilities-based analyses to deal with a maximum multiplicity of them. But, again, there is also the high likelihood of the unforeseen. Underlined in the above is the global, diverse, almost open-ended nature of potential problems and the uncertainty of basing and overflight access in the context of shifting, indeterminate, and contingent or ad hoc political relationships. We shall return to this.

Arms resupply during conflict There are any number of scenarios that may be divined regarding future basing problems in connection with arms resupply during conflict. And, we will note here that in numerous past situations, the U.S. and other major weapons suppliers have had to choose, when a conflict involving allies or friendly states arises, along a spectrum from embargo (see the U.S. embargo on Pakistan in 1965 that drove the latter into a long-term alliance with China) to all-out arms resupply, with a possible time lag in the latter case as in 1973.33 In 1973, access to bases in the Azores (Portugal) and perhaps Spain (tanker refueling) was critical to the resupply effort on behalf of Israel, as was the movement of some matériel out of Germany. An “air corridor” through the Gibraltar Straits was also apparently vital. On the other side of the Cold War divide, Soviet use of air staging bases and overflight corridors for resupplying clients in Angola (1975), Ethiopia (1977–1978) and Vietnam (1979) might be noted. In the first two of these cases, north-south air corridors in Africa were used similar to what the U.S. now seeks in its contingency planning. In the future, who can say? Above, we have bruited scenarios for possible arms resupply operations involving Israel, Egypt, maybe Iraq, maybe Pakistan and/or India (During the Lebanon conflict in 2006, U.S. use of a transit base in Scotland for supplying bombs to Israel caused a small political storm in the U.K.). A new round of fighting between Ethiopia and Somalia, or Armenia and Azerbaijan could bring this matter into play. In the case of Israel and Egypt, a later conventional conflict might prompt a joint U.S. embargo on both, perhaps coupled with asymmetric Russian or EU resupply on behalf of Egypt. That could trigger a repeat of the near-nuclear scenario in 1973. In another round, Portugal and Spain would not likely allow the U.S. access for resupply of Israel, but longer-range transport aircraft render this a less crucial matter than before.

Coercive diplomacy, air-based intelligence Coercive diplomacy, a.k.a. “gunboat diplomacy” in an earlier time, may also require access. The two earlier major volumes by Barry Blechman and Stephen Kaplan on U.S. and Soviet coercive diplomacy, respectively, detailed numerous

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cases where this came into play during the Cold War, in many cases involving access to bases and overhead air space.34 Earlier, that usually involved the movement of ships as with actual “gunboats” used by the U.S. to affect behavior in Central American states.35 In 1970, U.S. ships based in Souda Bay and elsewhere coerced Syria to halt its invasion of Jordan. In 1971, a U.S. carrier battle group in the Indian Ocean signaled a U.S. “tilt” towards Pakistan in its conflict with India, which was actually also a signal of friendship towards China. More recently, the forward movement of AWACs aircraft has become more the norm, though the movement of U.S. ships through the Taiwan Straits to signal support for Taiwan was closer to the earlier model. Use of Tomahawk missiles for “signaling” (some might call these activities mere futile gestures) in Sudan, Iraq and Afghanistan may be cited, by ships that may have had some access to regional ports. A related matter is the flying of intelligence aircraft offshore of rival nations such as China, hence in the latter case requiring access to bases in Okinawa. During the Cold War, the U.S. flew U-2 missions from Bodo (Norway), Wiesbaden, Incirlik, Peshawar and Atsugi, among other places, and ELINT planes along the Soviet Arctic coast from bases in Western Europe. The shooting down of the Korean 007 airliner may have resulted, accidentally, from such activities. ELINT functions are now more normally conducted by satellite, but the need for basing ELINT and PHOTINT aircraft may remain somewhat relevant.

Presence – showing the flag “Presence” or “showing the flag,” mostly in the form of port visits, is a longtime maritime tradition, an important aspect of the politics of prestige and alignments. In the nineteenth century, for instance, all of the major naval powers sent flotillas around the globe (see the U.S. “White Fleet”) to show the flag, as the display might, perhaps, intimidate a bit. These visits are made to allied nations, but also to neutral and even somewhat rivalrous ones. And, as recently has been the case with U.S. ship visits to Vietnam, efforts at “showing the flag” can be a way of indicating – both from the perspectives of hosts and visitors – a new political relationship. The bombing of the USS Cole took place in this context in Aden, not much earlier a major Soviet naval base.

Peacekeeping A more recent phenomenon is that of use of foreign facilities in order to conduct nearby peacekeeping or interposition operations. Here one might cite U.S. use of facilities in Egypt to support peacekeeping in the Sinai, and use of facilities in Hungary and Albania to support operations, respectively, in Bosnia and Kosovo. West African ports such as Dakar have been used to support peacekeeping operations in nearby states such as Liberia.

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The future of global presence In relation to the threat scenarios outlined above, the U.S. has been reshaping its global presence to deal with new threats emanating from sometimes new sources, in a very fluid and complex global environment. It is, accordingly, shifting its global presence with newer geopolitical emphases (arcs of crisis, African oilfields etc.) and also in line with “transformation,” i.e., an emphasis on smaller, lighter, more mobile forces. There is a clear shift away from the remnant Cold War global presence that featured heavy forces stationed where they would be expected to fight, i.e., in Central Europe and Korea. But in the context of the scenarios, the comparative costs involved, the needs for retention of military personnel and attention to their family needs, and the desire to lower the intrusiveness of the U.S. presence and the infringement on other nations’ sense of sovereignty, more and more the global presence is being seen in the light of trade-offs between traditional forward presence/basing, the newer possibilities for sea basing that would lower requirements for land basing, and the resort, based both on political but also new technological realities, to larger degrees of CONUS-basing for military operations. The latter two broad options are, of course, linked.

Long-range CONUS-basing In 1991, in the Gulf War, the U.S. had used lumbering old B-52s, flown all the way from Barksdale AFB in Louisiana, for bombing raids. Then in the 1999 Kosovo conflict, B-2s were flown back and forth from Whiteman AFB in Missouri. The round-trip missions covered more than 10,000 miles and took 30 hours (the B-2’s range is listed as 7255 miles, but tanker refueling can extend that almost indefinitely). In Afghanistan, much more use was made of the B-2s based in Missouri, this time usually using Diego Garcia as a stopping off point, coming or going. The Whiteman-Afghanistan-Diego Garcia leg was said to take 40–44 hours and to require six mid-air refuelings, while the Diego Garcia-Whiteman trip took 30 hours and five refuelings.38 The B-2s carried some 40,000 pounds of bombs, including the vaunted Joint Direct Attack Munitions (JDAMs). The plane carries a crew of two, pilot and mission commander. The U.S. also used B-52s and B-1s based mostly at Diego Garcia, 3000 miles away, involving 15-hour round trips, for raids in Afghanistan, as well as attack aircraft based on carriers in the Arabian Sea, some 700 miles from Kabul.39 Other attack aircraft used bases in the Persian Gulf in Kuwait and Oman, 1400 miles from Kabul and later the exSoviet states of Uzbekistan and Kyrghizstan. For those operations, the USAF utilized 55 KC-10 tankers and 550 smaller KC-135s (the Marines have 75 KC130s, and the Navy 110 carrier-based S-3Bs).40 Hence, according to one commentary: “Indeed, what sets the U.S. military apart from every other military in the world – every bit as much as smart bombs and stealth planes – are tankers and lifters.”41 These aircraft enable America – and only America – to project power around the world on a massive scale.

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Abetting this during the recent wars were some 50 military satellites, including two dozen satellites in the Global Positioning System Constellation, numerous communications satellites, about half a dozen electro-optical and radar-imaging spy satellites, and an undetermined number of satellites that intercept cell phone and other ground-based communications.42 These long-range missions for B-1s and B-2s had, by 2005, given a lot of room for speculation that in the future, the U.S. could rely more on CONUSbasing and less on forward basing, or a combination of it and sea-basing.

Sea basing As an alternative, or a supplement to a land-based forward presence or a more CONUS-based strategy for power projection, sea basing has captured increased attention. It is, indeed, one of the three elements of Seapower 21, along with Sea Strike and Sea Shield.43 This newer emphasis on sea basing is the result of worries that land bases may not so readily be available for future power projection operations, for reasons previously enumerated: the lack of durable long-term alliances and shifting alliances in a more multipolar system, intimidation of allies and arms client states because of WMD, the leverage of the oil trade, political crosspressures, assertion of sovereignty by states no longer so much under the U.S. security umbrella, sensitivity about problems caused by a foreign military presence, etc. So, some analysts now foresee greater use of sea-borne platforms for operations ashore in lieu of land bases, a trend already anticipated by a large number of small crisis operations (removal of U.S. embassy personnel, small-scale interpositions), mostly in Africa, and some aspects of the Afghanistan conflict. The recent CBO study on this subject states it as follows in its “Summary.” But the third, Sea Basing, is considered by many in the Department of Defense to be the most transformational of the three ideas. It envisions putting a substantial Marine Corps ground force on shore and sustaining it from ships at sea rather than from a land base. Thus, the Navy and Marine Corps could conduct amphibious assaults (including “forcible-entry” operations, like those conducted on Japanese-held Pacific islands during World War II) without needing to seize the enemy territory to build a base or to get permission from a nearby country to use an existing base. Supporters argue that sea basing would therefore allow U.S. forces to operate overseas more independently, flexibly and quickly.44 As reported by the CBO study, the USN now has a 293-ship fleet, including 35 amphibious ships.45 The latter comprises five Tarawa (LHA-1) and Wasp (LHD-1) amphibious assault ships, 11 Austin (LPD-4) amphibious transport docks and eight Whidbey Island (LSD-41) and four Harpers Ferry (LSD-49) dock landing ships. In addition, there are now 16 Maritime Prepositioning Ships. The first three types of ships “carry Marines, vehicles, and the landing craft that are used to ferry troops and equipment to shore; some also carry helicopters and

After the Cold War 169 fixed wing aircraft.”46 The L-class ships together provide lift transport capacity of 1.9. Marine Expeditionary Brigades (MEBs) amounting to 27,000 troops and their equipment. According to the CBO, in the past, these ships were arranged into 12 amphibious ready groups, three ships apiece, which operated independently from the fleet and carried a Marine Expeditionary Unit of about 2200 troops, a battalion equivalent. Now, the Navy is reorganizing its fleet so as to have three surface combatant ships and one submarine to operate with each amphibious ready group, amounting to a task force known as an expeditionary strike group (ESG). Clearly, this is reflective of a shift away from blue-water sea dominance towards littoral warfare with myriad possible scenarios. The MPSs carry equipment only, no troops, and are organized into three squadrons of five or six ships apiece, based at ports in the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean (Diego Garcia), and the western Pacific (Guam). Each carries enough matériel to equip an MEB and sustain it for 30 days, thus a lift capacity of 3.0 MEBs. So that is the current basis for sea basing. In March 2003, the Navy proposed to Congress building a fleet of 375 ships (compared with the current 293), including 37 amphibious ships (compared with the current 35) and 18 new MPSs (there are 16 today) capable of conducting sea-basing operations. Over a 30 year period up to 2035, this would involve purchasing 12 LPD-17s (San Antonio Class), ten amphibious ships of a new class (LHA-R) similar to the present LHDs but capable of carrying more aircraft, 12 dock landing ships of a new class (LSD-X), and up to 21 new MPF(F)s far more capable than the current MPSs. Thus by 2035, the Navy would have 57 combined amphibious warfare ships and maritime prepositioning ships, organized into 12 ESGs and three MPF(F) squadrons. The CBO study sums up the Navy’s and Marine Corp’s plans for sea basing as follows: In the Navy’s and Marine Corps’s vision for sea basing, amphibious ships would continue to carry the “assault echelons” – the first wave of troops – in any expeditionary operation. The MPF(F) ships would carry most of the materiel needed to sustain that force in the first 20 days of operations. They would also hold all of the equipment for “follow-on assault echelons” – successive waves of troops that would be transported to the theater on aircraft on high-speed surface craft. With sea basing, no land base would be necessary for the follow-on forces to assemble themselves and deploy–all of that would occur on the ships comprising the sea base. Nor would there be a large supply depot on land to offer a prime, stationary target for attacks by enemy ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, or aircraft. The MPF(F)s are the linchpin of the sea base; without them, the Navy and Marine Corps would not be able to implement that new approach to amphibious warfare or forcible-entry operations.47 The CBO report then goes on to explore several lower cost options for this plan:

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After the Cold War buy fewer, more-capable ships within the historical spending level; buy more, less capable ships within the historical spending level; create a more survivable sea-basing force and; de-emphasize sea basing in favor of forward presence.

These options involve a blizzard of possible options involving types and mixes of ships, trade-offs between men, equipment, helicopters and aircraft, defensive systems and survivability based on ship construction, etc. all costed out. And, to add another layer of complexity, there is the further question of connectors for the sea bases, i.e., means to get troops from CONUS (or Europe or U.S. bases in the Far East) to combat zones, and to get them ashore and sustain them. One option mentioned by the CBO is to purchase fast sealift ships capable of ferrying troops from CONUS (or European or Asian bases) at high speeds. Another option would be to fly troops to an advanced base, and then ferry them to the sea base using short-range, higher speed vessels. Ships of the latter type already exist, but new ones would require scaled-up designs. Additionally required connectors are large air-cushion landing craft to get everything ashore, flow-on/flow off ships to bring landing craft close to shore, a new heavy lift helicopter to replace the CH-53, or a new aircraft with quad-tilt rotors now only in the early design stage. The CBO report briefly discusses four areas of argument against sea basing, keeping in mind that reliance on the latter can vary greatly along a scale from modest to major.48 Those are: 1 2 3

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the possible inability even of maximum sea-basing schemes to deal with large-scale military operations such as those in Iraq in 1990–1991 and 2003; the vulnerability of sea bases to attack from ballistic and cruise missiles, maybe even more vulnerable than less concentrated land bases; the question of whether there is a real likelihood that the U.S. would attempt large-scale amphibious operations when it has not done so since the Korean War with the Inchon landing; and the expense of all the new ships and connectors needed to provide for effective sea-basing.

The CBO study of sea basing, while elaborate and detailed with regard to prospective force postures and associated cost projections, is almost divorced from analysis of scenarios, i.e., the possible locations and sizes of conflicts, impact of alignments, availability of land bases etc. The CBO’s overseas basing study is also stingy with reference to possible or most likely scenarios, aside from brief mention of Nigeria and Azerbaijan (potentially important future sources of oil) and Uganda and Djibouti (potential staging bases for conducting operations in Africa and the Arabian Peninsula to counter instability and terrorism).49 Likewise missing is any juxtaposition to or cross-referencing with the now standard DOD general breakdown of conflict scenarios: traditional, irregular, catastrophic and disruptive.

After the Cold War 171 Hence, a sea-basing scheme that allows for lift of 1.5–2.5 MEBs, maybe up to 40,000 Marine Corps troops, might be suitable for littoral operations on the scale of the Afghanistan war or, given favorable air overflight rights, somewhat removed from the littoral. It would easily be capable, as it has been, of dealing with extraction and peacekeeping operations on a small scale in Africa and elsewhere. Without supplementation from the Army however, and maybe with it, it might not be capable of operations on the scale of Desert Storm nor of OIF, the progress of transformation to smaller, more mobile, more lethal forces notwithstanding. The relevance to “catastrophic” generic scenarios (let us say, a WMD terrorist attack in the U.S.) is ambiguous, likewise, preemption of the sources of such threats via sea basing may be ambiguous. The limitations of sea–basing away from littorals is a further subject for review. Could, for instance, an MEB with full complement of submarine and aircraft, be useful in Azerbaijan vis-à-vis the Russians, or in Tibet vis-à-vis China, or in Chad or Uganda in relation to terrorist threats or coups?50 The absence of attention to jointness in the two CBO studies stands out. Army forces are hardly mentioned in connection with sea basing, nor are Air Force capabilities in relation to littoral warfare. And in the CBO study of the Army’s overseas bases, the Marines are largely missing and the Navy figures only in connection with “locations with the fastest deployment by sea to potential areas of conflict.” Hence, regarding the latter, Diego Garcia is seen as the best launching pad for operations in South Asia, the Persian Gulf, East Africa, etc.; Bulgaria and Romania for operations in the Med.–Black Sea area. Emphasis here is on the degree of forward deployment, use of CSLs, rotation of units back and forth to CONUS, etc. Missing is an analysis of how the lift capabilities layed out in the sea basing study could provide lift both for the Army and Marines to deal with large-scale traditional scenarios, or whether deployments of the troops of the two services would be mutually impossible due to the limits of sea basing even if abetted by extensive airlift. Building the CBO sea basing force for 2035 could involve many billions of dollars per year, perhaps $70 to 90 billion cumulatively over that period. Such numbers dwarf the current non-Egypt/Israel security budgets, raising the issue of the trade-offs between them and sea basing.

Missile defense basing An emerging important issue is that of U.S. external basing in relation to ballistic missile defense (BMD), which involves both defense of CONUS from nuclear attack, and theater defense for U.S. forces abroad and U.S. allies in Europe, the Middle East and the Far East. Regarding defense of CONUS from external missile attack (China, Russia, Iran, North Korea are concerns), the main basing issues have to do with the upgrading of the BMEWS radars in the U.K. at Fylingdale Moor and at Thule, Greenland, still under Danish sovereignty, a new radar in Poland, and missile interceptors in the Czech Republic. For many years enhanced access to the former sites was under pressure from political forces in Europe unhappy in

172

After the Cold War

general with U.S. ballistic missile defense schemes. Regarding the new possibilities in Poland and the Czech Republic, there is extensive counter-pressure from resurgent Russia. But, the external basing of missile defense can be seen in a context other than defense of U.S. forces and installations. There is the defense of allies. In that connection, there is the concept of “triangular” or “indirect” deterrence, whereby nations threatened by a U.S. strategic campaign or preemption of WMD capabilities, and who are unable to respond or threaten to respond by hitting CONUS or U.S. installations overseas, may threaten to hit U.S. allies.51 The deterrent threat involved depends somewhat on U.S. concern for the well-being of allies. As it happens, the 1991 Iraqi Scud attacks on Israel and Saudi Arabia (Iraq had no capacity to attack the CONUS), constituted an early example of what is involved here. North Korea’s missile tests over Japan imply such a threat to strike Japan in response to a U.S. preemption of Pyongyang’s nuclear facilities. Iran and perhaps Pakistan could perhaps do likewise in response to U.S. attacks, and both will be acquiring missiles that can reach all over their respective regions, to Israel, to the Central Asian “stans,” etc. As some of these nations acquire still longer range missiles, the range of threats will expand, in the case of Iran, all over Europe. Hence the U.S. must think in terms of more comprehensive regional BMD capabilities. But potentially threatened nations, such as Japan, may be wary of acquiring such defenses (much less so after 2006 North Korean missile tests) and think of them as “provocative” (this is a widely held view among the Japanese left), and may indeed move toward decoupling from the U.S. and the withdrawal of access for U.S. forces.52 In Europe, it may be less likely than in the case of Japan that intimidation or the fear of provocation may block the installation of TMD and associated systems. But in a broader sense, some similarities may exist. It may be hypothesized that some “old” European nations now conceive of their “grand strategy” as one of building a “counterweight” pole to the U.S., but also, taking advantage of U.S. support for Israel to ingratiate themselves with the Islamic world via anti-Israeli policies so as to attain preferential access to oil and the greater use of euros as coin in the oil trade. That could militate in the direction of decoupling from U.S. defense policy, including TMDs intended to protect Europe from attack from the Middle East via triangular strike. But, Poland is negotiating the possibility of basing a U.S. anti-missile radar system within its borders, and the Czech Republic of basing U.S. theater missiles. Britain appears willing to allow the U.S. to upgrade the BMEWS radar at Fylingdale Moor and maybe also to install missiles. And, of course, U.S. naval vessels armed with anti-missile defenses could be parked in the Mediterranean or Baltic Seas, or offshore Europe’s Atlantic coast. Rarely commented upon is the possibility that Europe may require missile defense vis-à-vis Israel in the context of an ever more pro-Arab tilt by the EU and the possibility of EU arms resupplies to Arab countries in the case of another large-scale Arab–Israeli conventional war, presumably to include Egypt and perhaps Saudi Arabia.

After the Cold War 173 U.S. anti-ballistic missiles could, conceivably, be used to “shut down” nuclear exchanges in the Greater Middle East region, involving India and Pakistan, Iran and Israel (should the former acquire nuclear weapons), perhaps Pakistan and Israel. That could be done by shipboard missiles, but the possibility of land-based missiles somewhere in the region (Persian Gulf, Central Asia, the Caucasus) may not be ruled out.

Conclusion As of 2005, the U.S. still maintained an elaborate “empire of bases,” a global basing structure consonant with what remained a unipolar dominance at the military security level at least (the fall of the dollar, rising Chinese economic might and the U.S. vulnerability to a worsening situation with respect to the supply and demand equation for oil presented a different picture). In that context following are some general points regarding the future of the U.S. global basing system, its structure and its purposes. The diverse, uncertain and very global nature of the emerging threat environment Myriad possible scenarios, following under the (now standard) Pentagon headings of traditional, catastrophic, irregular and disruptive, could be conjured up, running from the probable, to the possible, to the hypothetical. Those threats included terrorism, WMD (based on nation-states or non-state actors), traditional warfare possibilities in Iran, Taiwan and Korea, also a looming hegemonic rivalry with China, maybe too the EU or both combined in alliance. But looming, quietly, is the perhaps menacing struggle for oil, gas and non-fuel minerals, perhaps inextricably to be linked to problems of terrorism, WMD and great powers’ hegemonic rivalries. These issues present almost open-ended requirements for basing access. The future of the international system In addition to the foregoing, there is the uncertainty surrounding the future of the international system, more specifically, whether the current U.S. unipolar dominance and alliance structure will hold up, allowing for a continuing permissive environment for U.S. basing access. It has also meant competition for basing access, rival basing structures (either largely separate or interpenetrative), raising the prospect of Chinese and EU thrusts for enhanced global military presences (a resuscitated Russian basing structure is also not out of the question). The bases for basing access As previously analyzed, historically, there have been three generic routes to basing access: conquest/colonization, alliances, the provision of security umbrellas

174

After the Cold War

(extended deterrence) and the quid pro quo of security/economic assistance. The first named, the recent idiosyncrasies of Afghanistan and Iraq notwithstanding, have pretty much been ruled out by prevailing international norms. The second is, per the above discussion, in jeopardy in numerous places (see the example of Turkey in 2003) because of changing international system structure, the prospect of changed domestic politics where pro-U.S. regimes have existed, and the intimidation factor related to WMD proliferation. The third, security/economic assistance, may be, at present, an underutilized instrument of acquisition and retention of basing access, what with relatively nugatory monies being expended in numerous nations other than Israel and Egypt (in the latter cases, the purposes of the assistance have to do with maintaining a “cold peace”). But, it is not clear in many cases whether even greatly increased security assistance would result in enhanced basing access due to the counter-pressures associated with issues of sovereignty and pride as translated through domestic politics (here too, Turkey is a good example). Sea-based and CONUS-basing In the early twenty-first century, largely in response to fears about the loss of overseas bases, both on a normal day-to-day basis and during crises, the U.S. began to consider the possibilities for conducting long-range military operations, or portions of them, from homeland bases or from ships in lieu of land bases. This was partly also the result of technological changes, i.e., longer-range aircraft, tanker refueling, more advanced naval platforms carrying missiles and fixed and rotary-wing aircraft, better satellite sensors, more precise munitions etc. The possibilities for more effective rotating of forces back and forth from CONUS to overseas venues was also a part of this. By 2005, there were a lot of studies in progress to determine the technical and cost requirements, particularly for the utilization of sea-basing in lieu of land facilities. Whether, later, apropos the above, similar issues would arise in connection with Chinese, EU or Russian long-range power projection remained to be seen.

Appendices

I II III IV V

Mongol Empire and the Mediterranean system The age of sail and European imperialism The interwar period The Cold War period The post-Cold War period

China China South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea

Hangzhou Bay Canton Masan Tsushima Iki Chindo Cheja

1279 1284 1274 1275 1276 1271 1273

Date start

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Mongol Empire

n/a n/a 1280s 1280s 1280s n/a n/a

Date end

I Mongol Empire and the Mediterranean system

C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MN MN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN

Type**

N N N N N N N

Mixed military and economic function***

Belgium Belgium Cyprus Egypt England Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece

Antwerp Bruges Famagusta Alexandria South Hampton Rhodes Zante Modun Negroponte Salonika Coron Moron Corinth Chios Tenedos St. Maura

North Sporades Icaria Andros

Thasos Samathrace Imbros Lemnos

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Venice

– 1374 1200s 1340s – 1200s 1481 – 1209 1424 1204 1300s – 1694 1375 1502 1699 1464 1464 1466 1464 1656 1453 1694 1437 1507

Date start – – – – – – 1797 1499 1470 – 1499 1479 – 1695 1383 1684 1797 1479 1479 1479 1479 1657 1538 1695 1440 1574

Date end D D C D D C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime Commercial Commercial MN MiN MiN MN MiN MN MN MiN MN MN – MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN

Type**

Y Y – Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece, Crete Greece, Crete Israel Italy Lebanon Lebanon Lebanon Monaco Portugal Romania Spain Tunisia Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey

Tinos Agina Souda Bay Mycenos Naxos

Amargos Ithaca & Cephalone Cergo Karpathos Candia Souda Bay Acre Marcano St. Jean d’ Arc Tyre Beirut Monaco Lisbon Soldava Ibiza Tunis Constantinople Trebizond Lajazzo Smyrna

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Venice continued

1390 1451 1643 1390 1437 1511 1370 1483 1363 1306 1204 1380 – – – – 1374 1297 – 1200s – – 1205 1200s 1302 1344

Date start 1715 1537 1715 1537 1510 1517 1446 1485 1797 1538 1669 – 1291 – – 1291 – 1297 – 1382 – – 1453 – 1340s –

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C D D D D C D C D D C

Basis for acquisition* P P W P P P P P P P P P P P P P P – P P P P – P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN MN MiN fort salt trade MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN – commercial MN MiN MiN MiN

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y – Y Y Y N Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Ukraine Yugo Yugo Yugo Yugo Yugo Yugo Yugo –

1200s – 1260 – 1378 1375 1396 1494 1206

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no

Tana Zara Ragusa Capadistria Pola Treviso Scutari Trieste Corfu

1315 – late 1300s – – 1384 1479 – 1214

D – C C C C C C C

P – P P P P P P P

MiN – MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN

Y – Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Cyprus Greece Greece Greece Greece Israel Italy

Lebanon Malta Russia Tunisia Turkey Turkey Turkey Ukraine Yugo

Famagusta Chios Salonika Porto Longo Rhodes Acre Naples

Tyre Malta Koffa Tunis Pera Focea Trebizond Tana Dalmatia

1250 1260s 1240 1535 1299 – 1319 1200s 1378

– 1289 1262 1200s 1380 1250 1528

Date start

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Genoa

1291 – 1322 – 1396 – – 1372 –

– – – 1353 – 1291 –

Date end

C – D? C D – – C D

C C D C – C D

Basis for acquisition*

P P P P P – P P W

P P P W – P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime Entrepôt MN MiN MiN port visits MiN Mission to French MiN MiN MiN MN MiN alum mines fort-trade MiN MiN

Type**

– Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Y

Y Y Y Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

Albania Algeria Algeria Cyprus Egypt France France France Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Greece Iraq Italy Italy Lebanon Libya Saudi Arabia Saudi Arabia Saudi Arabia Spain Tunisia Tunisia

Base name

Scutari Bone Algiers Cyprus Suez Marseille Marseille Toulon Lesbos Negroponte Modon Coron Zonchio Rhodes Crete Basra Reggio Oranto Tyre Tripoli Jidda Djidjelli Mecca/Jidda Point Mahon Tunis(x) Djerba(x)

Ottoman Empire

1479 1535 1529 1571 1517 1535 1510 1543–1544 1462 1470 1499 1479 1534 1522 1645 early 1550s 1532 1479 1516 1551 early 1500s 1514 1516 1534 1535 1560

Date start – – – – – – – – – – – 1532 – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Date end C C C C C C D D C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P W W P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN – MN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN

Type**

– N – – – N – – N – – – – – – – N – N N N N – N N N

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Tunisia Turkey Yemen Yemen Yugoslavia

Galeta Constantinople Aden Aden Castelnuovo

1532 1453 early 1500s 1515 –

Date start

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no (x) = Kheir El Din, pirate, Barbarosa, linked to Ottomans

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Ottoman Empire continued

1535 present – – 1538

Date end C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MN MN MN MN MiN

Type**

N – N – N

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

Angola Angola Angola Angola China E. Africa Ghana Ghana India Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Islands Islands Islands Japan Mauratania Morocco Morocco Morocco

Base name

Luanda Maxima Massangano Cambambe Macao Kilwa El Mina Axim Goa Malacca Ternate Amboina Tidore Macassar Timor Madeira Azores Cape Verde Nagasaki Arguim Ceuta Tangier Mazagan

Portugal

1575 1575 1575 1575 1557 1505 1482 1503 1510 1511 1522 1529 1521 n/a 1520 1419 1439 1456 1576 1445 1415 1437 1514

Date start 1641 – – – – 1512 1638 1638 1961 1641 1575 1605 1665 n/a – present present n/a n/a n/a 1578 1668 1667

Date end C C C C D C C C C C C C C C C C C C D C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime

II The age of sail and European imperialism, intra-European basing in the Baltic arena

MiN F F F MiN MiN (F) MiN (F) MiN (F) MN MN MiN (F) MiN (F) MiN (F) MiN F MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN (F)

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Mozambique Mozambique Mozambique Mozambique Mozambique N. Africa N. Africa N. Africa Oman Sao Tome Tanzania Tanzania Tanzania Tanzania Yemen – –

Sofala Sena Tete Quelimane Mocambique Alca Arguila Azemour Hormuz Sao Tome Zanzibar Pate Penda Malindi Socotra

1505 1505 1505 1505 1508 1458 1471 1513 1515 1470 – – – 1505 1610 1648 1505

Date start

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval base; MiN = Minor naval base; F = Fort ***Yes or no

Mombasa

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Portugal continued

1698 1844 – 1698

1660s 1660s 1660s 1660s n/a 1549 1550 1541 1622 n/a

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C C D C C D

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN (F) MiN

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Argentina Chile Chile Cuba Cuba Dominican Rep. Ecuador Indonesia Ireland Italy Italy Jamaica Malta Mexico Mexico Mexico Mexico Mexico Morocco Morocco Nicaragua

Base name

Oran Mostaganem Tenes Algiers Bougie Buenos Aires Santiago Arica Havana Santiago Santo Domingo Guayaquil Moluccas Kinsale Messina Naples Kingston Malta Vera Cruz San Juan de Ulloa Acapulco Tehuantepec Yucatan Ceuta Tangiers Huatulco

Spain

1505 1505 1505 1505 1505 – 1541 – 1511 1520 1496 – – 1601 1500s 1500s 1509 1535 1519 1574 1527 – – – – –

Date start – – 1517 – – – – – 1898 – 1585 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C C D D D C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P ad hoc P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN (F) MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MN MN MiN MiN – MN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N N N Y Y Y – Y Y Y Y Y Y

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Panama Panama Panama Panama Philippines Peru Portugal Puerto Rico Spain Spain Tunisia Tunisia U.S. Venezuela Venezuela Venezuela

Darien Nombre de Dios Porto Bello Panama City Manila Lima (Calleo) Lisbon San Juan Las Palmas Melilla Mers El Kebir Tunis (Goleta) St. Augustine Maracaibo Cartagena Cubagna (New Cadiz)

1513 – 1598 – 1542 1535 1580 – 1479 1492 1505 1535 – – – 1511

Date start

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Spain continued

– – – – 1898 – – – – – – – – – 1585 –

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MN MN – MN MiN MN MN MiN MiN MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN MN MiN

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N Y Y Y Y Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

Angola Brazil Brazil Cape Verde China DWI DWI DWI Ghana India India India India India India India India India India India India India India Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia

Base name

Loango Bahia Pernambuco Cape Verde Canton* Curacao Bonaire Aruba El Minya Pulicat Sadras Negapatam Cochin Surat Pondicherry Cannavore Quilon Belasore* Calcutta* Dacca* Patna* Agra* Broach* Amboina Batavia Malacca Tidore Ternate Palembang Choribon

The Netherlands

1663 1623 1630 – – 1634 1634 1634 1638 1630s 1630s 1660s 1660s 1660s 1697 – – 1750 – – – – – 1605 1619 1641 1613 1605 – –

Date start – 1625 1648 – 1750 – – – – – – – 1750 – – – – – – – – – – 1947 1947 1947 1947 1947 – –

Date end C C C – D C C C C C C C C C C C C D C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition** P P P – P P P P P P P P P P P P P P W W W W W P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MiN – factory MiN (F) MiN MiN MiN (F) F F F F F Entr. F F MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN (F) MiN

Type****

Y Y Y – Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y – – – – – – Y Y Y Y Y Y –

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Indonesia Indonesia Italy Italy Japan Japan Japan Norway NWI NWI Portugal Russia South Africa Spain Spain Spain Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Surinam Sweden Taiwan Thailand United States W. Indies W. Indies W. Indies West Africa

Padang Borus Palermo Elba Nagasaki Deshima Hirado Bergen St. Eustatius St. Martin Lisbon* Arkangelsk Cape Town Cadiz Malaga Alicante Jaffna Trincomalee Galle Colombo Batticaleo Surinam Kalmar Zeelandia Bangkok* New Amsterdam St. Martin St. Bartholomew Tobago Gold Coast

– – 1664 – 1640s 1640s 1640s 1660s 1634 1634 1704 – 1652 1664 1664 1664 1640s 1640s 1640s 1640s 1640s 1667 1644 1627 – – 1756 1756 1676 1663

Date start 1794 1794 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1750 1750 1750 1750 1750 1799 1644 1662 – 1664 – – – –

Date end C C D D D D D D C C D D C D D D C C C C C C D C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition**

Notes * Shared with Great Britain **C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy ***Yes or no ****MN = Major naval base; MiN = Minor naval base; F = Fort; Entr. = Entrepôt

Country (nowadays)

Base name

The Netherlands continued

P P W W P P P W P P P P P W W W P P P P P P W P W P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MN MiN F F F MN Entr. Entr. MiN T MiN (F) MN MN MN F MiN F MiN F MiN MiN MiN MiN Entr. MiN MiN MiN MiN (F)

Type****

– – Y Y Y Y Y – Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y – – Y – Y – – Y Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

Algeria Brazil BWI Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Egypt Fr. Guyana France France France France France France France France French Samoa Grenada Grenada Guinea Haiti India

Base name

Algiers Rio de Janeiro St. Kitts Port Royal Quebec Louisburg Newfoundland Hudson Bay Acadia Nova Scotia Alexandria Cayenne Guadeloupe Martinique(Ft. Royal) Corsica Reunion Marquesas Isl. New Caledonia St. Pierre Miquelon Tahiti Grenada Madagascar Conakry St. Domingue Surat

France

1600s 1555 1670s(X) 1605 – 1740s – – 1710 1710 late 1830s 1604 1700 1700 1756 – 1840s 1840s – – 1840s 1700 1664 1887 1697 1668

Date start – – 1713 1627 1627 1747 1697 1697 1714 1714 1882 – 1759 1762 1763 – – – 1793 1793 – 1763 – – – –

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C C C D – C C C C C C C C C D

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P P P P P W – P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime pirates econ MiN MiN MiN (F) MN econ econ econ econ MN MiN MiN MiN MiN – MiN MiN econ econ MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN

Type**

N Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N Y Y Y Y – Y Y N N Y – Y Y Y Y

continued

Mixed military and economic function***

Country (nowadays)

India India India India India India India Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Ireland Ireland Italy (Elba) Libya Libya Mali Mauritius Portugal (Sp) Senegal Senegal Seychelles South Africa Spain Spain Spain Sri Lanka

Base name

Pondicherry Madras Pondicherry Swally Calicut Chandanagore Karikel Bantam Achin Batavia Cork Kinsale Porto Longone Tripoli Tripoli Bamako Mauritius Azores Goree Dakar Mahe Cape Town Malaga Barcelona Minorca Ceylon

France continued

1672 1747 1750 1750 1750 1750 1750 1664 – 1794 1688 1688 1646 1600s 1830s 1883 – – 1701 1700s 1750 – 1704 1741 1756 –

Date start 1697 1748 – – – – – – – – 1690 1690 – – – – 1810 – 1759 1759 – 1795 – – 1763 1802

Date end C C C C C C C C C C D D C C C C C D C C C C D D D C

Basis for acquisition* P P P P P P P P P P W W W P P P P W P P P P W W W P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime econ MiN outposts outposts outposts outposts outposts MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN pirates MiN Fort MN MiN MiN/slaving MN outposts MN MN MN MiN MiN

Type**

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N N N N N Y Y N Y Y Y Y N N N Y

Mixed military and economic function***

Tunisia Tunisia Tunisia U.S. U.S. U.S. U.S. Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam West Indies West Indies West Indies West Indies West Indies West Indies West Indies

1600s – 1830s 1756 1700 1700 1562 – – – – 1620s – – – 1782 – 1600s

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy **MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort *** = Yes or no (X) = Shared by France and Britain

Tunis Bizerte Tunis Oswego Mobile Biloxi Florida Hanoi Haiphong Saigon Tortuga St. Christoph Dominica St. Martin St. Lucia St. Vincent Tobago Sallée

– – 1950s – 1807 1807 1565 – – – – 1713 – 1762 1763 – 1672 –

C C C C C C C C C C C C – C C C C C

P P P P P P P P P P P P – P P P P P

Pirates MN MN Fort MiN – – MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN – MiN MiN MiN MiN pirates

N N N Y Y Y Y N N N Y Y – Y Y Y Y N

Country (nowadays)

Argentina Australia Australia Australia Bahamas Barbados Brunei Burma BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI BWI Canada Canada Canada

Base name

Buenos Aires Port Essington Melville Sydney Bahamas Barbados Sarawak Tenasserim St. Kitts St. Kitts St. Christof Nevis Antigua Montserrat Montserrat St. Lucia The Saints Maria Galante Tobago Grenada Dominica St. Vincent Curacao Nova Scotia Newfoundland Louisburg

Great Britain

early 1700s 1838 1838 1788 – 1625 1845 early 1800s 1624 1713 1713 1628 1632 1632 1624 1794 1794 1794 – 1760 1793 1793 1800 1655 1710 1713

Date start – – – – 1703 – – – – – – – – – – 1815 – – 1784 1784 – – 1815 1667 – 1740s

Date end C C C C C C C C C – C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition** P P P P P P P P P – P P P P P P – P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN outpost outpost MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN

Type***

Y N N N Y Y N Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N Y N Y N

Mixed military and economic function****

Canada Canada Canada China

China

China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China China Cyprus Denmark Egypt Fiji France

Halifax Halifax Esquimalt Amoy

Canton*

Hong Kong Kiungchow Canton Hong Kong Kowloon Swatow Amoy Foochow Taiwan Tansu Ningpo Shanghai Chokong Nanking Keelung Hankow Chefoo Tientsin Ninshang WeiHei Wei Cyprus Copenhagen Alexandria Fiji Dunkirk

1841 1858 1843 1842 1860 1860 1843 1843 1858 1858 1844 1843 1861 1858 1861 1861 1862 1860 1869 – 1878 1665 1882 1874 1658

1710

1600s 1749 1870s –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1952 – –

–

– – – –

C D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D C C D D C D-C

D

C C C D

P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P W P P P

P

P P P P

MN Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port Treaty Port MiN MiN MN MN MiN MiN

MiN

MN MN MiN MiN

N Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y N N N N N

Y

Y N N Y

continued

leave in 1668 leave in 1669

Country (nowadays)

France France France Gambia Germany Germany Greece India

India

India

India

India

India

India India India India India India India

Base name

Martinique Guadeloupe Corsica Banjol Stralsund Heligoland Crete-Souda Bay Bombay

Surat

Masulipatam

Salasore

Madras

Calcutta*

Agra Porcalt Telichery Cuddahore Belasore Dacca Malda

Great Britain continued

1612 1662 1600s 1600s 1600s 1600s 1600s

1686

1639

1633

1611

1612

1758 1794 1795 1760s 1807 early 1810 1840 1665

Date start

– – – – – – –

–

–

–

–

1618

1763 1815 1796 1770s 1807 1818 – –

Date end

D C D D D D D

D

D

D

D

C

C C C C D D C D then C

Basis for acquisition**

P P P P P P P

P

P

P

P

P

P P W P W W P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime

trading post factory MiN-posts MiN-posts MiN-posts MiN-posts MiN-posts

MN

MN-fort

MiN

MiN

MiN

MiN MiN MiN – MiN MiN MiN MN

Type***

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Y

Y

Y

Y

Y

N Y N Y N N N Y

leave in 1668 leave in 1668 leave in 1668 leave in 1668 leave in 1668 leave in 1668

Mixed military and economic function****

Patna Visagapatam Andaman (Pt. Blair) Ternate Bantam Amboina Penang Banda Labuan Borneo Achin Malacca Moluccas Bencoolen Khorak Cork Kinsale Acre Sardinia Leghorn Livorno Citavecchia Zante Cephalenia Kingston Mombasa Madagascar Maldives Malta Mauritius Mauritius Tangier

India India India Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Iran Ireland Ireland Israel Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Jamaica Kenya Madagascar Maldives Malta Mauritius Mauritius Morocco

1600s 1600s – 1579 – 1612 1794 1784 1846 1888 1756 1794 1795 1794 1839 late 1600s late 1600s 1840 1708 1650s – 1570s 1575 1575 1655 – – – 1800 1810 1815 mid 1650s

– – – 1580 – 1623 1818 – – – – 1816 1816 1818 – 1697 1697 – – – – – – – 1920s – – – 1812 – – –

D D C D C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C D D D D D C C C C C C C C

P P W P P P P P P P W W W W P W W P W W P P P W P P P P P P P P

MiN-posts MiN-posts MiN MiN trading post MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN – – – – MN MN MN MiN MN MN MiN MiN Y N N N N N N N N N N N N N Y Y Y Y N N N N – N N

Y Y N Y Y Y

continued

Country (nowadays)

Morocco Netherlands New Zealand Nigeria Portugal Portugal S. Africa Senegal Senegal Seychelles Sierra Leone Singapore South Africa Spain Spain

Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Sri Lanka Surinam

Base name

Agadir Texel Auckland Lagos Lisbon Tagus Cape (Simonstown) Goree Dakar Seychelles Freetown Singapore Durban Tangier Cadiz

Port Mahon Port Mahon Port Mahon Barcelona Tangier Tetuan Trincomalee Trincomalee Colombo Surinam

Great Britain continued

1708 1763 1798 – 1697 mid 1650s 1763 1815 – 1799

1551 1790s? 1841 1851 1640 1832 1795 1664 1758 1815 1815 1819 1847 1662 1665 and 1695

Date start

C C C D C D C C – C

D

– 1756 1784 – – – – 1784 – – –

D D C C D D C C C C C C C D-C

Basis for acquisition**

– – – – – 1833 1802 – 1784 – – – – –

Date end

P P P W P W P P P P

W

P W P P W&P P P P P P P P P P

Permanent peacetime vs. wartime

MN MN MN MN MiN garrison MiN MN MN MN MiN

N British and Dutch used the base N N N N N N N N N N

N N N

MN MiN MiN MN

N N N N Y N N Y N N

Mixed military and economic function****

MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MN slave MiN MiN

Type***

– 1899 1797 1704 1815 1609 1511 – 1815 1833 1664 1606 1620 1634 1628 1600s 1713 1618 – 1839 1629 1710 1747 1801 1906

Notes *Shared with the Netherlands **C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy ***MN = Major naval, MiN = Minor naval, F = Fort **** = Yes or no

Zanzibar Tanzania Tonga Tonga Trinidad Trinidad Gibraltar U.K. Ascension U.K. Bermuda U.K. St. Helena U.K. Chagos Arch U.K. Ascension U.K. Falklands U.K. New York U.S. Virginia U.S. Mass-Plymouth U.S. Baltimore U.S. Boston U.S. Oswego Bay U.S. Brielle West Africa James Island West Africa Aden Yemen Aden Yemen Providence Isl. – (Acadia) – (Cape Breton) Danish; Swedish Islands New Hebrides

– – – – – – – – – – 1782 1782 1782 1782 1782 1756 – – – – 1641 – 1748 – –

C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C C D C C C D C

P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P – P

MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN MiN slave slave MN MN MiN MiN MiN – MiN

N N – N N N N N N N N Y Y Y Y N Y Y N N Y N Y Y N

Location (Current designation)

User

Date begin

Introduction Travemünde-Port of Lübeck Germany Denmark–Prussia–Sweden June Fyen Norway Denmark–Prussia–Sweden June The Northern Seven Years War, 1563–1570 [the Allies: Denmark, Germany] Landskrona, Sjaeland-Fortress of Kronborg (Elsinore) Sweden Denmark, Prussia Jan. Bornholm Denmark The Allies 24 May Copenhagen Denmark Lübeck Contingent 27 May Rügen Germany Sweden, Finland 4 July Copenhagen Denmark The Allies 14 July Revel Estonia Sweden June Abo and Viborg Finland Sweden winter The Russo-Swedish Wars and the War of the Vasa Succession, 1570–1610 Danzig Poland Sweden – Danzig Poland Sweden June Narva Estonia Sweden winter Barösund Denmark Sweden Aug. Danzig, Riga Poland, Latvia Sweden Apr.–May Riga Latvia Sweden Sept. Bergen Norway Sweden weather-port in Elfsborg Norway Sweden – Belt, Norway, and Lapland – Denmark – The Kalmar War, the Russo-Swedish Wars, the Wars of the Vasa Succession and the Thirty Year’s War, 1611–1643 Kalmar Sweden Denmark 13 Aug. Abo Finland Sweden Sept. Stralsund Germany Sweden – Stralsund Germany Sweden winter

Host

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850

1535 1536

– – 1565 – – 1568 1570 1587 1592–1593 1599 – 1603 – 1607 1607–1608 1587 1612 1616 1627 1629

Feb. 12 June 30 May 7 July 8 Aug. Oct. winter – 6 Sept. winter Jan. Oct. Oct. weather-port in – – 21 Aug. winter – winter

Year

June Feb.

Date end

The Belt, the Elbe, and Weser Germany Denmark The Elbe Germany Denmark The Elbe Germany Denmark w/ Britain, Dutch The Elbe, the Weser Germany Denmark w/ Britain, Dutch Glûckstadt Germany Denmark w/ Britain, Dutch Stralsund Germany Sweden Danzig Poland Sweden The Elbe-Stade (Hamburg) Germany Denmark The war between Sweden and Denmark, 1643–1645 Stralsund Germany Sweden Gothenburg Sweden Dutch Kalmar Sweden Dutch Wismar Germany Dutch Wismar Germany Dutch Kjöge Bay Denmark Dutch Kronborg Denmark Dutch Hellevoetsluis Netherlands Dutch Bremen, Verden, Pomerania, Rügen, Wismar Germany Sweden 1648 The wars of the Danes and the Dutch against the Swedes and the English, 1652–1667 Helsingor Denmark Britain Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Stralsund Germany Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Danzig Poland Dutch Riga Latvia Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Dutch – Rügen Germany Denmark Wismar Germany Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Wismar Germany Sweden 12 Sept. 4 Nov. 14 Nov. winter

June 23 Sept. Sept. winter

continued

– – – –

1652 – – – – – 1657

9 Sept. Nov. winter 20 July – July–Sept. 21 June

Early Aug. 13 Oct. 25 Nov. 19 July 26 July July-Sept. 29 May

1626 – 1627 1628 – 1630 1634 1630–1643 1644 – – – – 1645 – – –

– – end Aug. 7 May 7 May – summer Sept.

7 July 28 July 20 July 9 Aug. 24 Aug. 5 Oct. 3 Nov. 13 Nov. 23 Nov. winter 5 June – 5 June winter 22 Nov. – Peace of Westphalia

Aug. – winter 16 Mar. May – summer 4 Sept.

Location (Current designation)

User

Danzig Poland Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Landskrona Sweden Dutch, Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Knudshoved Norway Sweden Trondhjem Norway Sweden Trondhjem Germany Dutch Flensburg Denmark Dutch, Denmark Kjöge Denmark Dutch Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Copenhagen Germany Dutch Wismar Denmark Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Middelfart Denmark Dutch Travemünde-port of Lübeck Germany Dutch, Denmark Wismar Germany Sweden Kronborg Denmark Sweden Bergen Norway Britain Christiansand and Bergen Norway Dutch Copenhagen Denmark Dutch Iceland Iceland Denmark The Skane War and its antecedents, 1668–1679 [The Allies: Denmark–Dutch & U. Provinces, Spain, Brandenburg, German States] Copenhagen Denmark The Allies Copenhagen Denmark The Allies Copenhagen Denmark Brandenburg

Host

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 continued

end June Nov. 5 Nov. 22, 26 Nov. winter – Dec. 13 Mar. 27 Mar. 23 July 23 Sept. 27 Aug. Oct. 22 Oct. Nov. 1–5 Dec. 1 Dec. Nov. 23 Mar. 3 Aug. winter winter –

Aug. – –

June 25 May –

Date end

3 June 29 Oct. Nov. 5 Nov. winter 29 Nov. Dec. 11 Dec. 26 Mar. 6 July 26 Aug. 23 Sept. 27 Sept. 10 Oct. 3 Nov. 18 Nov. Nov. 12 Mar. 3 Aug. winter winter early July

Date begin

1668–1675 – –

1658 – – – – – – – 1659 – – – – – – – – – 1665 1665–1666 – –

Year

Kjöge Bay Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Rügen Germany Kalmar Sound Sweden Rügen Germany Copenhagen Denmark The antecedents and first stage of the Great Northern War, 1680–1709 Lagos Portugal Copenhagen Denmark Gothenburg Sweden Gothenburg Sweden The Second Stage of the Great Northern War, 1709–1714 Danzig Poland Danzig Poland Petersburg, Archangel Russia Langesund Norway Skagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Helsingfors Denmark Heligoland Germany Revel Estonia The Third Stage of the Great Northern War, 1715–1719 [The Allies: Denmark, Dutch, English, Russia] Kjöge Bay Denmark Råger Vik Estonia Revel Estonia Revel Estonia Kjöge Bay Denmark Stralsund Germany Copenhagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Trondhjem Norway

19 June 26 Aug. 8 Sept. 9 Aug. 9 Aug. 30 Sept. 30-Sept. 1 July 12 Oct. 19 June 14 Sept. 6 Oct. – May-June 21 June Dec. winter Aug. June

12 July 2 Aug. 4 Aug. 2 Sept. 10 Sept. Dec. winter winter winter

The Allies The Allies The Allies The Allies Denmark The Allies Brandenburg France Dutch Britain, Dutch Denmark Denmark, Sweden Turkey Denmark Denmark Russia Russia Denmark Denmark

Britain, Dutch Russia The Allies Russia Britain, Dutch Denmark, Britain The Allies The Allies The Allies

17 July 4 Aug. 27 Aug. Sept. – 7 Dec. winter winter winter

14 Sept. 7 Oct. – 18 June 30 June 22 Feb. winter Nov. 29 July

Sept.–Aug. 2 Aug. – 25 June

21 June 6 Sept. mid-Oct. 30 Sept. 30 Sept. winter

continued

1715 – – – – – 1715–1716 – –

1709 – 1696 – – – 1712–1713 – –

– – – 1700

1677 – – – –

Location (Current designation) Estonia Estonia Denmark Denmark Denmark Denmark Denmark Germany Denmark Estonia Germany Norway Denmark Denmark Denmark Denmark Germany Finland Germany Sweden Denmark Denmark Denmark Russia Estonia Sweden Denmark

Host

Revel Revel Copenhagen Copenhagen Copenhagen Hven Kjöge Bay Rostock Copenhagen Revel Rostock Norway Kjöge Bay Copenhagen Kjöge Bay Bornholm Danzig Abo Pomerania, Wismar Strömstad Kjöge Bay Bornholm Copenhagen Kotlin Revel Björkö Skagen

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 continued

Russia Russia The Allies Dutch Russia Denmark Russia Russia Britain, Dutch Russia Russia Britain Britain, Denmark Dutch The Allies The Allies The Allies The Allies The Allies (Denmark alone) Britain, Denmark Britain, Denmark The Allies Britain, The Allies Russia Russia Russia Dutch, The Allies

User

May 23 May 7 June–7 Aug. 13 July 17 July, 30 June Aug. 25 Aug. 23 Oct. 9–12 Nov. 21 Nov. winter Late Mar. 7 May 9 July 13 July July Oct. winter 14 May Nov. 9 June June–July 23 Oct. Mar.–July 26 Sept. Sept. Mar.

Date begin

1 May May–June 16 Aug. 16 Aug. 16 Aug. Aug. 16 Oct. 5 Nov. 15–16 Nov. winter winter Apr May 13 July 15 July 2 Sept. winter winter May–June Nov. 15 July June–July 2 Nov. 27 July winter winter 27 Apr.

Date end

1716 – – – – – – – – 1716–1717 – 1717 – – – – – – – – 1718 – – – 1718–1719 – 1718

Year

Marstrand Sweden Sweden Stettin and Pomeranian Territory Germany Ceded to Prussia by Sweden Bremen & Verden Germany Ceded to Prussia by Sweden The final stage in the Great Northern War, 1719–1721 Kotlin Russia Russia Revel Estonia Russia Copenhagen Denmark British Lemland Sweden Russia Lemland Sweden Russia Revel Estonia Russia Revel Estonia Russia North end of Öland Sweden Britain Danzig Poland Sweden Danzig Poland Russia Dalarö Sweden Britain Copenhagen Denmark Britain Danzig Poland Sweden Danzig Poland Russia Copenhagen Denmark Britain, Sweden Kapelsvik Sweden Britain, Sweden Dalarö Sweden Britain, Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Britain Karlskrona Sweden Britain, Sweden Elfsnabben Sweden Britain, Sweden Revel Estonia Russia Revel Estonia Russia Elfsnabben Sweden Britain Copenhagen Denmark Britain Events from 1722 to 1733. The wars of the Polish Succession and of the Austrian Succession Copenhagen Denmark Britain

Apr. 3 July 20 July 20 June 1–2 July July–Aug. 21 July 31 Aug. Aug.–5 Sept. 22 Sept. Sept. 11 Oct. winter 7 Nov. 23 Nov. Apr. 18 Apr. May Aug. early Nov. Nov. 21 May 11 June 27 June winter 4 Oct. 17 Oct. 13 May

Apr. 3 July 20 July June 30 June 7 July 18 July 27 Aug. Aug.–Sept. mid-Aug. 5 Sept. 30 Sept. winter Nov. 17 Nov. early1720–15 Apr. winter 18 May 9 Aug. 17 Aug. 12 Nov. 13 May May–June 19 June winter Aug.–Sept. 12 Oct. 4 May

continued

–

1719 – – – – – – – 1719–1720 – 1719 – 1720 – – – – – 1721 – – 1721–1722 –

1719 1720 –

Location (Current designation)

User

Elfsnabben Sweden Britain Copenhagen Denmark Britain, Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Britain Copenhagen Denmark France Weichselmünde Poland France Danzig Poland France Copenhagen Denmark France Revel Estonia Russia Revel Estonia Russia The Seven Year’s War, the first “armed neutrality,” and the other operations, 1755–1788 Copenhagen Denmark Sweden Danzig Poland Russia Karlskrona, to cooperate with Sweden Sweden Russia Stralsund, Grosses Haff – Blockade Stettin Germany Denmark, Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Sweden Kjöge Bay Denmark Sweden, Russia Revel Estonia Russia Kiel Germany Russia Danzig Poland Russia Karlshamn Sweden Russia Danzig Poland Russia Stralsund, Stettin Germany Sweden Revel Estonia Russia Port Mahon, Minorca Spain Russia Portsmouth U.K. Russia Greek Archipelago Greece Russia

Host

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 continued

5 June 30 Oct. Oct. 8 Oct. 15 May May–June Aug. 9–13 July 11 May Oct.–Nov. 19 Aug. 3 Sept. Oct. Oct. 8 Sept. 10 Oct. 13 May 29 May end of July 3 Sept. – winter Summer 1770 – 5 July

28 Oct. 15 July Aug.–Sept. Aug. 14 Oct. 20 July 3 Oct. Apr.–May 23 May 11 July 17 Aug. – 2 Nov. 1769–1770 early Jan. June

Date end

17 May 20 Oct. 23 May 20 Sept. 11 May 24 May 10 June 9 July winter

Date begin

– 1757 – 1758–1759 – – – 1759 – – – 1760 1761–1762 1770 1770–1779 –

– – – – – – – – –

Year

21 July 10 June

Russia Denmark, Sweden Russia Russia

Copenhagen English Ports

12 July winter

July 8 July 1 Oct. 10 Nov. winter Apr.–May summer

Russia Russia Denmark Russia Russia Russia Russia

Denmark U.K.

8 July 1770 13 July 22 Sept. Cruise-1779 3 July 8 Sept. 8 Sept. 5 Nov./winter 6 Nov./winter 29 Apr. 28 July 10 July 26 Aug./winter 24 July 1783 8 Aug.

Denmark Russia Russia Sweden Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia

Port Mahon Spain Kjöge Bay Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark The Tagus, Lisbon Portugal Cape St. Vincent Portugal Lisbon Portugal Leghorn Italy Cadiz Spain Copenhagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark Leghorn Italy Copenhagen Denmark Leghorn Italy Copenhagen Denmark The war between Sweden and Russia, 1788–1790 Viborg, Frederikshamn Finland Copenhagen Denmark Karlskrona Sweden Copenhagen Denmark Revel, Estonia Karlskrona Sweden Revel Estonia The first stage of the Napoleonic Wars in the Baltic, 1791–1802 Copenhagen Denmark Copenhagen Denmark July–Aug. 2 Oct. (only Sweden) 22 July winter

Aug. 30 July 31 Oct. winter July 10 May summer

1772 2 Aug. 3 Oct. Cruise-1779 31 July 19 Sept. 17 Sept. 15 May 29 Apr. 20 May Early Aug. 14 July 13 May 1 Aug. 1784 25 Aug.

continued

– 1795–1796

1793 1795

– – – 1788–1789 1788–1789 1789 –

1770–1772 1773 1774 1779 1780 – – 1780–1781 1780–1781 – 1781 – 1781–1782 – 1783–1784 1784

Denmark Denmark Netherlands U.K. Netherlands Germany Denmark Estonia U.K. U.K. U.K. Italy

Copenhagen Copenhagen The Texel St. Helena The Texel Lûbeck Kjöge Bay Revel Various English Ports Yarmouth Yarmouth Ancona

Naples, Genoa, and other Mediterranean Ports Italy Mediterranean U.K. Yarmouth U.K. Yarmouth U.K. England U.K. Bergen Norway Hven Sweden Kjöge Bay Denmark Kjöge Bay Denmark Rostock Germany Danzig, Kjöge Bay Poland, Denmark The second state of the Napoleonic Wars in the Baltic, 1803–1815 Copenhagen Denmark Portsmouth U.K.

Location (Current designation)

Host

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 continued

Oct.-visits early May May 7 Sept. Nov. winter 30 Mar. 18 Apr. 25 Apr. 24 May 24 May 23 Sept. early Nov.

Russia Russia

early Oct. 9 June 12 June spring 1 June 6 July-visit 6 July 13 Aug. Aug.–Sept. 10 Sept. 14 Nov. 18 May

Date begin

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Britain Britain Britain Britain Britain

Russia Sweden Russia Denmark Russia, Britain Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia, Turkey

User

5 Aug. end Dec.

winter 9 Sept. 23 June spring 13 June 6 July-visit 7 Aug. 31 Aug. Aug.–Sept. 1 Oct. winter 18 May (bombardment) Oct.-visits late May June Sept.–Nov. winter winter 30 Mar. 7 May 5 May 17 June–July 17 June–July

Date end

1803 –

1799–1800 1800 – – 1800–1801 1800–1801 – 1801 – – –

– 1796 1797 1798 – – – – – – 1798–1799 1799–1800

Year

Germany Denmark Sweden Norway Germany Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden Estonia Sweden Sweden Italy Portugal Italy Sweden Denmark Finland Sweden Finland Finland Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden Sweden

Rügen Copenhagen Gothenburg Norway Heligoland Gothenburg Gothenburg Helsingborg Malmö Gothenburg Örö Roads Råger Vik, Port Baltic

Karlskrona Gothenburg Corfu Lisbon Venice, Adriatic Sea

Gothenburg Anholt Åbo Karlskrona Nargen, Aspö, Porkala, Torsari, Ösel Nargen, Aspö, Porkala, Torsari, Ösel Gothenburg Swedish Ports

Hanö Gothenburg Hanö Hanö

Britain Britain Britain Denmark Britain Britain Britain Britain Britain Spain Britain Russia – withdrawal – ship blew up Britain Britain Russia Russia Russia – surrendered to Austria Britain Britain Russia Britain Britain Britain Britain Britain – Ordered out by Sweden Britain Britain Britain Britain 25 Oct. 3 Dec. 20 Oct. winter winter May 1814 5 June 20 June end July 28 Sept. Dec. July 10 Oct. end summer summer 9 Nov.

Oct.-Cruise 4 May 18 May winter 4 June end July end July Dec. Jan. 12 Sept. 2 May summer May–June

summer summer 1–2 Aug. autumn 1890 winter early July summer 9 June 27 Aug. 22 Aug. Aug.–Sept.

early Oct. 29 Nov. Oct. 9 Nov.

16 July summer 1 Aug. autumn 5 Sept. winter Apr.–17 May 21 Mar. end May 22 Aug. 20 Aug. 25 Aug.

continued

1810 – 1811 – –

1807–1808 1809 1809–1814 – – – – –

– – 1807 1807–1809

1807 – – – 1807–1890 1807–1808 1808 – – – – –

Poland Sweden Norway Norway Poland France Netherlands U.K.

Danzig Gothenburg Norway The Nore Stettin Paris – Napoleon’s Abdication Dutch Coast

Portsmouth

Source: Anderson, R.C. London: Francis Edwards Inc. 1969

Location (Current designation)

Host

Naval wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 continued

Britain Britain, Russia Russia Russia Sweden, Russia Peace Convention of Moss Russia – Britain – ships returned to Russia Russia

User

early July June–July winter winter 28 Oct. 11 Apr. early 1815 13 Oct.

early 1815 7 Aug.

Date end

20 June 2 May winter 13 Dec. Aug. 11 Apr.

Date begin

– 1827

– 1812 1812–1813 1812–1813 1813 1815

Year

Antigua Bahamas Natal-Fortaleza Belem San Luis de Maranhao Sao Paulo Bahia Gander Botswood St. Johns Argentia Stephenville Halifax Labrador Northwest River Miraflores Kilbourne Zandery Paramaribo Galapagos Islands Julianhaab others British Guyana various Kingston Jui Monrovia

U.K. U.K.

U.K.

U.K.

Dutch Guyana Dutch Guyana

Base name

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: U.S.

III The interwar period

Date start

Antigua * Bahamas * Brazil * Brazil * Brazil * Brazil * Brazil * Canada * Canada * Canada * Canada * Canada * Canada * Canada * Canada * Dominican Republic* Dominican Republic* Surinam * Surinam * Ecuador * Greenland ** Greenland ** Guyana * Haiti * Jamaica * Liberia ** Liberia **

Country (nowadays) – – 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 – – – – – – – – 1946 1946 1946 1946 1945 – – – 1945 – – –

Date end

D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D** D** D D** D** D D D D D

Basis for acquisition*

continued

air, radar air, radar air air air naval naval air naval air air naval air air air, naval air, ferry air, ferry air air air air air air air ferry, communications air air, naval naval, air, radar naval air air

Type of base***

Country (nowadays) Liberia Mexico Mexico Mexico Mexico Mexico Panama Portugal Portugal Portugal Portugal St. Lucia the Philippines the Philippines the Philippines the Philippines Trinidad U.K. U.S.

Base name

Marshall Guaymas Acapulco Mazatlan Manzanillo Tejeria various Azores Terceira Fayal San Miguel St. Lucia Cavite Subic Bay Clark, etc. Corregidor, etc. Pt. of Spain Bermuda Guantanamo Bay

** * * * * * ** ** ** ** ** * ** ** ** ** * * *

Date start

– 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Date end

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy; ** = taken after fall of colonial power, outset of WWII

U.K. U.S. U.S. U.S. U.S. U.K.

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: U.S. continued

D D D D D D C D D D D D C C C C D D D

Basis for acquisition* air naval naval naval naval air various, sub bases air, naval air, naval communications communications air, radar naval naval air ground – army air, radar naval, air, radar naval – major base

Type of base

Country (nowadays) Bulgaria Bulgaria China Czech and Slovak Republics Estonia Estonia Estonia Estonia Latvia Lithuania Mongolia Mongolia Mongolia

Base name

Sofia Bourges Shanghai various Saaremaa Hiumaa Paldiski Tallinn Liepadja various Kovdo others Urga

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

Czechoslovakia

Host (if different than today)

Interwar period: USSR

~1940 ~1940 – 1936 1939/1940 1939/1940 1939/1940 1939/1940 1939/1940 1939/1940 1937 1937 1937

Date start ~1940 ~1940 1941 1936 1990 1990 1990 1990 – 1990 1990 1990 1990

Date end D D D D C C C C C C D – puppet gov’t D – puppet gov’t D – puppet gov’t

Basis for acquisition*

air, ground air, ground naval air, ground air, naval air, naval air, naval air, naval naval ground – army air, ground air, ground air, ground

Type of base

China China China China China China contested contested contested South Korea Taiwan Thailand Thailand Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Korea Micronesia Micronesia Micronesia Belau Marshall Islands Japan

Country (nowadays)

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

League Mandate League Mandate League Mandate League Mandate League Mandate League Mandate

Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina

Pusan Formosa offshore islands offshore islands Camranh Saigon Haiphong Hanoi Gia Lam Bien Hoa, etc. Can Tho Cap St. Jacques Cat Lai Chinkai Bay Wotje Bikini Truk Palaus Saipan, etc. Marcus Island

Harbin Changchun etc. Dairen Swatow Amoy Hainan Islands Keino Bokotad

Manchuria Manchuria

Pescadores Islands Pescadores Islands Spratley Islands Korea Taiwan

Base name

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: Japan

* * 1934 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 1941 * 1919 1919 1919 1919 1919 1919

1932 1932 * late 1930s late 1930s late 1930s * *

Date start 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 – – – 1945 1945 1941 1941 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C D C C C C C C C C C C C C League Mandates League Mandates League Mandates League Mandates League Mandates C

Basis for acquisition*

air, communications etc. air, communications etc. naval naval naval naval, air, seaplane naval, submarine naval, submarine seaplane, naval, communications air, naval air, seaplane air, naval air, naval naval naval air air air air seaplane seaplane seaplane seaplane air, naval air, naval air, naval fuel depots fuel depots anchorages air

Type of base

Country (nowadays) Albania Eritrea Ethiopia Greece Greece Libya Libya Libya Libya Libya Spain Spain Spain Spain

Base name

Sasseno, others Eritrea/Massawa Abyssinia Dodecanese Islands Leros, other Castel Benito Benghazi Tobruk Bardia Sidi Barrani Canaries (Gando) Tetuan Ifni Majorca (Palma)

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

Italian E. Africa Italian E. Africa Italy Italy

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: Italy

1935 * 1935 * * * * * * * 1937 1937 1937 1937

Date start – 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1940 1940 1940 1940

Date end Pact C C C C C C C C C D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war)

Basis for acquisition*

air ground, naval air ground naval, air, weapons air air air air air air, subs air, subs air, subs air, subs

Type of base

Country (nowadays) China Djibouti France France Lebanon Lebanon Libya Madagascar Madagascar Mali Mali Morocco Morocco Morocco Morocco Morocco Senegal Syria Syria Tunisia Tunisia Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam – –

Base name

Shanghai Djibouti Martinique Guadeloupe Beirut Rayak Tripoli Ivato, others Diego Suarez Bamako Bafoulabé Alicante Agadir Meknes Fez others Dakar Aleppo Damascus Tunis others Saigon Camranh Bay Bach Mai Tong Bien Hoa Cat Lai Seguedine others

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina Indochina French W. Africa French W. Africa

French W. Africa

French W. Africa French W. Africa

East Africa

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: France

– * * * early 1920s early 1920s early 1920s * * * * * * * * * * early 1920s early 1920s * * * * * * * * * *

Date start late 1930s – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1954 1954 1954 1954 1954 1954 – –

Date end D C C C League Mandates League Mandates League Mandates C C C C C C C C C C League Mandates League Mandates C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition*

naval naval air, naval, comm, ground air, naval, comm, ground air air air air naval air, ground air, ground air air air air air – air air air, communications, seaplanes air, communications, seaplanes naval naval air air air air air, ground air, ground

Type of base

Java Sumatra Borneo Amboina Soerabaja Lake Tosa Maedan Batavia Curacao Aruba Bonaire Paramaribo

Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland E. Indies Netherland W. Indies Netherland W. Indies Netherland W. Indies Dutch Guyana

Note *C = Conquest, colonialism

Base name

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: the Netherlands

Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia Indonesia the Netherlands the Netherlands the Netherlands Suriname

Country (nowadays) * * * * * * * * * * * *

Date start 1942 1942 1942 1942 1942 1942 1942 1942 – – – –

Date end C C C C C C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition*

air air ground – army ground – army naval – major base seaplane air – major air – major air air air air, ground

Type of base

South Pacific Islands

U.K.

Host (if different than today)

Country (nowadays) Australia Australia Australia Australia Australia Australia Barbados Canada Canada Canada Canada China China China China Cyprus Egypt Egypt Egypt Egypt Egypt Egypt Fiji Ghana Greece Greece India India

Base name

Melbourne Sydney Darwin Brisbane Fremantle Darwin Barbados Halifax Esquimalt St. Johns Argentia Hong Kong Shanghai Tientsin Peking Akrotiri Suez Pt. Said Dehkla Ismailia Alexandria Almaza Fiji Takoradi Crete

others

Bombay others

The interwar period: The U.K.

* *

*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Date start

– –

–

1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 – 1945 1945 1945 1945 1945 late 1930s late 1930s late 1930s – – – – – – – – – –

Date end commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth C commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth C D D D – Mily Agreement Mily Agreement Mily Agreement Mily Agreement Mily Agreement Mily Agreement – C ATs, licensed arms production ATs, licensed arms production C C

Basis for acquisition*

naval – main base ground, air

air, naval access

naval and air – major bases naval and air – major bases naval and air – major bases naval and air – major bases naval naval naval naval naval air, communications air, communications ground, naval – major base naval ground ground air, naval air, naval air, naval ground ground ground ground air, naval, storage airstrips air, naval access

Type of base

South Pacific Islands

African Possessions

Palestine Palestine U.K. Trans-Jordan

North Borneo Basra Habbaniya Ramleh Haifa Kingston Aqaba Kluang Alor Star Kota Bahru others Malta – Auckland Pt. Chambers Lagos Kano Azores W. Samoa Freetown Seletar Tengah Simonstown Durban Robbin Island Bathurst Khartoum Juba Pt. Sudan

Indonesia Iraq Iraq Israel Israel Jamaica Jordan Malaysia Malaysia Malaysia Malaysia Malta Mauritius New Zealand New Zealand Nigeria Nigeria Portugal Samoa Sierra Leone Singapore Singapore South Africa South Africa South Africa South Africa Sudan Sudan Sudan

* * * 1919 1919 * * * * * * * * * * * * 1940 * * * * * * * * * * *

1947 – – – – – – – – – – – – 1945 1945 – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

C Mily Agreement Mily Agreement league mandate league mandate C C C C C C C C commonwealth commonwealth C C D – C C C commonwealth commonwealth commonwealth C C C C

continued

ground air, dirigible air, dirigible ground naval naval, ground naval air, seaplanes air, seaplanes air, seaplanes air, seaplanes naval – main base naval naval naval airstrips airstrips naval air, naval, storage airstrips air and naval – major bases air and naval – major bases naval air, naval seaplane airstrips air, ferrying air, ferrying naval

Tonga Gulf of Paria Falkland Islands Bermuda Gibraltar Ascension Island Aden several

South Pacific Islands

Tonga Trinidad U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. Yemen Tanzania

Country (nowadays)

Notes *C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

Tanganyika

Base name

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: The U.K. continued

* * * * * * * *

Date start – – – 1945 – – – –

Date end – C C C C C C C

Basis for acquisition* air, naval, storage naval air, naval, commo air, naval naval air air, naval airstrips

Type of base

Rhodes Bissagos Budapest Debrecen Szeged etc. Libya/Cyrenaica Pasages Marin Rio de Oro Cp. Finesterre Melilla Ceuta Malaga Vigo Las Palmas Gando Tenerife

Italy Portugal

Note *D = Access via diplomacy

Italy

Base name

Host (if different than today)

The interwar period: Germany

Greece Guinea-Bissau Hungary Hungary Hungary Libya Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain

Country (nowadays) 1939 1937 1940 1940 1940 1939 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937 1937

Date start 1942 1940 – – – 1942 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940 1940

Date end D (alliance) D D D D D (alliance) – – D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war) D (after civil war)

Basis for acquisition*

air sub, coal and oil forward air bases forward air bases forward air bases air – – submarines, ground, air submarines, ground, air submarines, ground, air submarines, ground, air submarines, ground, air submarines, ground, air submarines air air

Type of base

Country (nowadays)

Antigua Australia Australia Bahrain Bahrain Belgium Belgium Brazil Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Cuba Cyprus Denmark Denmark Denmark Denmark Djibouti Ecuador Ecuador Egypt

Base name

Antigua West I (Cocos Islands) Cockburn Sound Al Jufair Al Muharraq Florennes Maisieres Rio de Janeiro Churchill Cold Lake Frobisher Goose Bay Harmon Namao Guantanamo Bay Akrotiri Alborg Karup Skrydstrup Vandel Djibouti Guayaquil Seymour Island (Galapagos Islands) Cairo West

Cold War period: U.S.

IV The Cold War period

1940 1970 – 1949 – – – 1960s – – – – – – 1903 – – – – – – WWII 1942 1980

Date start

1960 – – (expanded in 1987) – 1987 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1946 –

Date end

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Basis for acquisition*

air air – ASW naval naval air missiles – BGM 1099 ground, Pershing II, air, AWACs air air – tankers air – tankers air – tankers air – tankers air – tankers air – tankers ground, naval air – recon air – contingency air air air naval, ASW naval air air

Type of base

Egypt Ethiopia Fiji France Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany

Germany

Germany

Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Greece Greece Greece

Qena (Kenna) Mits’iwa (Massawa) Nadi IAP Clipperton Island Ahlhorn Bad Tolz Berlin Bitburg Geilenkirchen Sylt

Augsburg

Hof

Hahn Leipheim Neu Ulm Norvenich Ramstein Rhein Main Schwabish – Gmund Sembach Spangdahlen Waldheide – Neckarsulm West Berlin Wiesbaden Wuschheim Zweibrucken Athens/Piraeus Hellenikon Souda Bay

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

–

–

1979 1969 1960s 1940s – – – – – –

– – 1987 – – – 1987 – – 1987 – – 1987 – – – –

–

–

– 1977 1970s 1940s – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – D – D – D – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

continued

air naval air air air – fighters ground – Special Forces ground – Special Forces air – fighters air – AWACS communications and control transmitters and monitoring stations communications and control Land-based SIGINT facilities communications and control Land-based SIGINT facilities air – fighters air – fighters missiles – Pershing II air – fighters air – fighters air – transport missiles – Pershing II air – fighters air – fighters missiles – Pershing II ground air – recon missiles – BGM – 1100 air – fighters, Nike Hercules, Pershing II naval air – AWACS naval, ground, Nike Hercules

Greenland Guyana Honduras Honduras Honduras Iceland Iran Israel Israel Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy – Italy Italy Italy – Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan

Thule Georgetown AFB Lac Cieba Palmerola San Lorenzo Keflavik Bandar Abbas Haifa Hatserim Aviano Comiso Gaeta La Maddalena Naples

Atsugi Camp Butler (Okinawa) Camp Courtney (Okinawa) Camp Haigue (Okinawa) Camp Hansen (Okinawa) Camp Schwab (Okinawa) Camp Zama Chitose Futenma Marine Air Facility (Okinawa)

Sigonella (Sicily) Trapani Verona

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: U.S. continued

– WWII – – – – 1975? – 1973 – – – – – – – – – – 1950 1955 1955 1955 1955 1955 1945 1945 1960

Date start

– 1970s – – – – 1979 – – – 1987 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Date end

– – – – – – – “de facto U.S. base” – – – – – – – – – – – D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation)

Basis for acquisition*

missiles – Nike-Hercules, tankers air air – communications air – communications air – communications air – ASW, AWACS, fighters, tankers air – ASW, naval naval air air – fighters missiles – BGM – 1098 naval naval – subs naval air – fighters air – ASW air – AWACS ground missiles – Jupiter, Nike-Hercules, Pershing II air – recon ground – marines ground – marines ground – marines ground – marines ground – marines ground – army HQ air marine air – major base

Type of base

1954 1954 1965 –

Morocco Morocco Mozambique Netherlands

Nouasseur Ben Guerir Maputo Soesterberg

Roberts IAP Wheelus AFB (Tripoli) Bikini Atoll Kwajalein Atoll Sidi Slimane

Japan 1950 Japan 1954 Japan 1945 Japan 1945 Japan 1970s Japan 1946 Japan – Japan – Japan 1960s Japan 1972 Japan 1945 Japan 1945 Japan – Japan 1972 Japan – Japan 1952 Japan 1946 Kenya – Kenya – Kenya 1970 Kiribati – Kuwait – Liberia 1970s Libya WWII Marshall Islands Marshall Islands Morocco 1951

Itazuke Iwakuni Iwo Jima Kadena (Okinawa) Kawasaki Misawa Naha Airport (Okinawa) Narita Okinawa Oppama Sasebo Tachikawa Torishima I (Okinawa) Wakkanai White Beach (Okinawa) Yokosuka Yokota Air Base Emba/Zasi/Nairobi Mombasa Nanyuki Canton Island

1959 1959 1972 –

– – (major till 1960) – 1970s – 1975 – 1960s 1972 – 1977 – 1972 – – – – 1964 – 1979 – 1970s 1969 1950s 1944 1959

– –

D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) – D (after occupation) D (after occupation) – – – D (after occupation) D (after occupation) D (after occupation) – D (after occupation) – D (after occupation) – – – – D – – – –

continued

air air – fighters, ASW air air – major base ground – army air – fighters, ASW air air missiles – MACE naval air naval air – major base air air naval naval air – fighters, transport air – ASW naval air army air naval-refueling air air – major base – air – air B-36 and B-47 bombers, tankers, nuclear weapons storage B-47 bombers, tankers, nuclear weapons storage B-47 bombers, tankers, nuclear weapons storage naval air – fighters

Nicaragua Norway Norway Oman Oman Oman Oman Pakistan Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Papua New Guinea Phillipines Phillipines Phillipines Phillipines Phillipines Phillipines

Managua IAP Bodo Oerland Masirah Mina Raysutt Muscat Muscat (Mina Qaboos) Peshawar Albrook AFB Army Defense Positions Atlantic Army Defense Positions Pacific Balboa Fort Clayton Fort Davis Fort Gulick Fort Kobbe Howard AFB Panama Canal Zone Rodman Naval Station Manus Island

Clark AFB Cubi Point Mactan Manila Sangley Point Subic Bay

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: U.S. continued

1979 – – – – – – 1969 1979 (Hawks removed by 1973) (Hawks removed 1977) – – – – – – – – 1947 – – 1971 – 1971 –

– 1903 1956 1958 – – 1901

Date end

1974 – – 1976 – 1976 – 1959 1953 1947 1950 1942 1919 1919 1941 1928 1954 – –

Date start

– – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Basis for acquisition*

air, naval air – major base air – ASW, naval air air ground naval air naval – major base

air – MAC air – recon air – AWACS air – ASW naval air – transport, ASW naval air – recon air missiles – Hawks, SAM missiles – Hawks, SAM naval ground ground ground air air missiles – SAM naval

Type of base

Ponta Delgada (Azores) The Azores Dhahran Riyadh Machrihanish Dakar Mahe Changi Sembawang Tengah Berbera Mogadiscio Pretoria Angsong-up Anyang-up Bupyon Chunchon Hongson Kimpo Kumchon-ni Kunsan Kunsan AFB Osan AFB Pusan Pyong Taek Sachon Seoul Seoul (site 33) Seoul (site 74) Sochon Suwon Taegu AFB

Portugal – Portugal – Saudi Arabia – Saudi Arabia 1965 Scotland (U.K.)– Senegal – Seychelles – Singapore 1970 Singapore – Singapore 1976 Somalia 1981 Somalia 1980 South Africa 1970s South Korea 1961 South Korea 1961 South Korea 1951 South Korea 1958 South Korea 1964 South Korea – South Korea 1953 South Korea 1962 South Korea 1951 South Korea 1952 South Korea 1962 South Korea 1961 South Korea 1968 South Korea 1951 South Korea 1963 South Korea 1952 South Korea 1961 South Korea 1961 South Korea –

– – (reduced presence in 1962) – – – – 1978 – – – – 1970s 1981 1981 – – – 1971 – 1981 – – – 1981 1968 – 1981 – 1981 1981 –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

naval air – ASW air ground, air naval – SEALs air – ASW air – ASW air naval air naval, air air – ASW, naval air missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk ground – MP air missiles – Nike and Hawk air, Nike and Hawk missiles ground, air missiles – Nike and Hawk air – major base air – major base air missiles – Nike and Hawk, air air ground missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk, air air – major base

continued

South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea Spain Spain Spain Taiwan Taiwan Taiwan Taiwan Taiwan Taiwan Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand

Tangjin-up Tongduchon Tongduchon-ni Uijongbu Uinjongbu (site 34) Uinjongbu (site 36) Rota Torrejon Zaragoza Ching Chuan Kang Quemoy and Matsu Islands Sung Shan Tai-nan T’ai-pei

Ban Ta Khli Chaing Mai Don Muang Kanchanaburi Lop Buri Nakhon Phanom Nakhon Ratchasima Nam Phong Nam Pung Dam Sakon Nakhon Sattahip Tahkli U Tapao Ubon Ratchathani (Muang Ubon)

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: U.S. continued

1962 1962 1953 1951 1950 1961 – – – 1956 1952 1956 1956 – 1950s 1964 1964 1964 – 1960 1964 1964 1965 1965 1966 1965 – 1966 1964

Date start

– 1981 – – 1981 1981 – 1988 – – 1976 1979 1975 1979? 1960s (reduced in 1976) 1970 1972 1972 1973 1975 1976 1973 1972 – 1976 – 1976 1975

Date end

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Basis for acquisition*

missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk air/ground ground, air missiles – Nike and Hawk missiles – Nike and Hawk air – ASW, naval, SSBN air – fighters air – tankers air ground – advisors air air naval missiles – Matadors air – major base air air – major base ground ground air – major base air – major base air ground ground naval air – ASW air – major base air – major base

Type of base

Diyarbakir Incirlik Konya Doha (Qatar) Alconbury Bedford Benson Bentwaters Bermuda Boscombe Down Brize Norton Coltishall Cranwell Diego Garcia Fairford Finningley Gibraltar Greenham Common Holy Loch Lakenheath Leeming Machrihamish Marham Mildenhall Mildenhall Molesworth Odiham

Waller Field

Udorn Thani Chaguaramas

Thailand Trinidad & Tobago Trinidad & Tobago Turkey Turkey Turkey UAE U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. 1960 – – early 60s – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1987 – – – – – – – 1987 –

1961

1939 WWII – – – 1980 – – – – – – – – – 1971 – – – – – – – – – – – – –

1976

1964

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

–

–

continued

air air – AWACS air – fighters air – AWACS, Jupiter missiles naval air – communications air – Collocated Operating Bases air – Collocated Operating Bases air – fighters air – ASW air – Collocated Operating Bases air – Forward Operating Bases air – Collocated Operating Bases air – Collocated Operating Bases air – ASW, tankers, bombers, naval air – Forward Operating Bases, tankers air – Collocated Operating Bases air – ASW air – Stand by Operating Base, CLCONs naval – subs air – fighters air – Collocated Operating Bases naval – SEALs air – Forward Operating Bases air – AWACS air – recon, tankers, transport missiles – BGM – 1097 air – Collocated Operating Bases

naval

air – major base

Country (nowadays)

U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. Venezuela Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam

Base name

Sculthorpe Upper Heyford Waddington Wethersfield Wittering Woodbridge Maiguetia An Khe Ban Me Thuot Bao Loc Bien Hoa Bon Sar Par Cam Ranh Bay Can Tho Chi Linh Chu Lai Con Thien Da Nang Dak Sut Dak To Dong Tam (My Tho) Hue Khe Sanh Long Binh Newport (Saigon) Nha Trang Phan Thiet Phu Cat

Cold War period: U.S. continued

– – – – – – – 1965 1961 1965 1961 – 1965 1965 – 1965 1965 1965 1965 – 1967 – 1965 1965 1967 1965 1966 1965

Date start

– – – – – – – 1972 1968 1972 1974 – 1974 1972? 1970s 1972 1967 1974 1965 1970s 1972 1970s 1968 1972 1975 1972 1972? 1972

Date end

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – D D

Basis for acquisition*

air – Stand by Operating Bases air – fighters, forward operating base air – Collocated Operating Bases air – Stand by Operating Bases air – Collocated Operating Bases air – fighters, Jupiter and Thor, Pershing II air ground – major army, air ground – special forces, air ground – major army, air air/army air ground – special forces major port, air ground – major army, air air marine air ground – major marine base major port, air ground – special forces air, ground naval – major base air, marines ground – major marine base, air ground – major army major port air, ground ground – major army, air air/army air

Type of base

Plei Mei Pleiku Quang Ngai Qui Nhon Saigon Sui Da Tan Son Nhut Tuy Hoa Vung Tau Golfo Nuevo Trelew Woodside North West Cape Witney’s Bay St. George South Hampton Cape Race Fox Harbor Montagu Port Hardy St. Anthony Sandspit Williams Lake Massett Argentia Whitehorse Leitrim Korla Qitai Guantanamo Five Stations Ejde

Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam Argentina Argentina Australia Australia Bermuda Bermuda Bermuda Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada China China Cuba Cyprus Denmark

1965 1964 1965 – 1961 – 1961 1965 – 1975 – – 1963 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1903 – –

19651972 1972 1970s 1975 – 1972 1972 1970s Present – – Present – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Present – –

D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

continued

ground – special forces ground – major army, air ground – major army, air ground – major army, air ground, air, naval, intel ground – special forces air/army air/naval air air/army air ground – major army, air CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations

Country (nowadays)

Denmark Greece Greece

Greece

Greenland Greenland Honduras Iceland Iceland Iceland Iceland Iceland Iceland Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Italy Japan Japan Japan

Base name

Bornholm Nea Makri Kato Souli

Iraklion

Angissoq Thule Palmerola Keflavik Sandur Grindavik Sandgerdhi Keflavik Stokknes Crotone Lampedusa Sellia Marina Naples Licola San Vito Vicenza Treviso Tavolaru Tsushima Island Gesaski Iwo Jima

Cold War period: U.S. continued

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1972 – 1960s

–

– – –

Date start

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – present – present

–

– – –

Date end

D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

D

D D D

Basis for acquisition*

CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites, VLF transmitter sites CC – land-based SIGINT facilities/land-based SIGINT CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations

Type of base

Marcus Island Tokachibuto Yokota Yosami Totosuka Iruma SIGINT Kamiseya Totosuka Owada Tokorozawa Yokota Misawa Camp Zama Hakata Sakata Wakkanei Kamiseya Kadena Torii Hanza Sobe Onna Point Paynesword Yap Island Kenitra Bratland Jan Mayen Island Helgeland Vardo Vadso

1968 – 1946 1950 1960 – – 1960 – – – – 1945 1971 – 1972 – – – – – – – 1972 – – – – – –

Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan

Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan Liberia Micronesia Morocco Norway Norway Norway Norway Norway

– present present 1975 – present present 1971 – 1972 – – – – – – – present – – – – – –

present present present 1980 present – D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

D D D D D D

continued

CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities

CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites\land-based

Country (nowadays)

Norway Oman Oman Pakistan Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Panama Philippines Philippines Philippines Philippines Philippines Philippines Philippines Philippines Portugal Portugal Portugal Portugal Puerto Rico Puerto Rico Puerto Rico Reunion South Korea

Base name

Viksjofjellet Al Khasab Umm Al-Ranam Island Bada Biea Summit Howard Air Base Albrook Air Base Corozol Fort Clayton Galeta Island Capas Tarlac St. Miguel Clark AFB Cubi Point Camp O’Donnell San Miguel Clark AFB John May Camp Lajes Cinco Pincos Cinco Pincos Vila Nova Sebana Seca Isabella Aguada Mafate Changsan

Cold War period: U.S. continued

– 1981 1981 1959 n/a 1954 1953 1960s 1919 1917 – 1957 1903 1956 – 1957 1903 1970 – – – – 1940 1964 – 1976 1953

Date start

– 1981 1981 1969 n/a present 1979 1960s present present – present present present present present present present – – – – present 1964 1974 present present

Date end

D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

Basis for acquisition*

CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations

Type of base

Kargabarun Incirlik Sinop Dyarbakir Samsun Karamursel Antalya Agri Kars Edirne Ankara Thurso Edzell Thurso RAF Croughton

Yonchon Camp Humphreys Pyongtaek Sinsan-ni Kangwha Estartit Guardamar del Segura Rota Torrejon Rota El Casar del Talamanca Shou Lin Kou Taipeh Nan Szu Pu Vila Nova

South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea South Korea Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Spain Taiwan Taiwan Taiwan The Azores Tobago Trinadad Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey Turkey U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K.

1954 – 1951 1970 1954 – – – – – – 1956 1963 1956 – 1966 WWII – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

present – present present 1969 – – – – – – present present 1956 – 1977 1960 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

continued

CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – VLF transmitter sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – HF transmitter and receiver sites CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station

U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. U.K. West Indies

RAF Mildenhall Bradford St. John Cheltenham Wincombe Morwenstow Kirknewton Sullum Voe Diego Garcia

*D = Access via diplomacy

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: U.S. continued

– – – – – – – 1971

Date start

– – – – – – – present

Date end

D D D D D D D D

Basis for acquisition*

CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – Giant Talk/Scope Signal III station CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – land-based SIGINT facilities CC – transmitters and monitoring stations CC – land-based SIGINT facilities

Type of base

Plotchik Markovo Plovdiv Shabla Petritch (near Karnobat) Kavarna/ Kyutstendil Haskovo Harmanli Vidin Kompong Som

Luanda Luanda Mirnyy

Annaba

Kabul Kandahar Bagram Shindand Jalalabad

Base name

Cold War period: USSR Date start – – – – – – – 1979 – – – – – – 1970s Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War 1960s 1960s 1970 1970

Country

Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Algeria Algeria Angola Angola Angola Antarctica Bolivia Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Bulgaria Cambodia Chad Chile Chile

– – – – – – – 1988 – – – – – – – 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1970s 1973 1973

Date end Technical Technical Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Ground Forces Naval – subm Ground Forces Technical Naval Aircraft Technical Technical Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Naval Technical Technical R&D

Type of base

continued

Tracking station Tracking station

Tracking station – optical Tracking station

Satellite ground station

Satellite ground station SIGINT

Notes

Cuba Cuba Cuba

Cuba Cuba Cuba Cuba Cuba Cuba Cuba Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic

Santiago de Cuba Santiago Lourdes

Cienfuegos Nipe Bay Havana Santiago de Cuba Jose San Marti Airport S. Antonio de los Banos

Bruntal Ceske-Budejovice Havlickuv Brod Milovice, Prague Pilsen Susice Tabor Vysoke Myto Prague Panska Ves Prague Milovice Cheb/Horni Dvory Dobrany Karlovy Vary Zatec Mimon Tchorovice

Country

Base name

Cold War period: USSR continued

1960s 1960s 1960s 1960s 1960s 1960s 1960s Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War

1960s 1960s 1960s

Date start

– – – – – – – 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990

– – –

Date end

Tracking station Tracking ships SIGINT, satellite ground station

Notes

Naval Naval Naval, tracking ships Naval Aircraft Aircraft Ground Forces Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Technical Satellite ground station R&D Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft

Technical Technical Technical

Type of base

Bernau Dallgow-Doberitz Dresden Dresden-Klotzche Eggesin Erfurt Grimma Halle Hillersleben

Dahlak Archipelago Assab Massawa Perim Island Asmara

Presov Sliac Kosice Zvolen Helwan Aswan

Mlada-Boleslav Pilzen-Dobrany Milovice Topolcany Zvolen

Panensky Tynec

Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Czech Republic Slovakia Slovakia Slovakia Slovakia Slovakia Slovakia Slovakia Egypt Egypt Egypt Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia Ethiopia GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR

Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War – – 1970 1978 1978 1978 1978 1978 1978 1978 1978 Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War

1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 – – 1970 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990

Aircraft Ground forces Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Missile Missile Technical Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Technical Technical Ground forces Technical Technical Naval Naval Naval Naval Aircraft Ground forces Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile

continued

Satellite ground station SIGINT

Tracking station Tracking station

Tracking station

GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR

Jena Jüterborg Krampnitz Naumburg-Saale Neuruppin Neustrelitz Ohrdruf Perleberg-Prignitz Riesa (Sachsen Zeithain) Schwerin Stendal-Altmark Vogelsang-Templin Wittenberg-Lutherstadt Furstenwald

Finsterwalde AB Mirow-Rechlin Larz AB Grossenhain AB Neuruppin AB Templin-Gross Dolln AB Parchim Rechlin-Larz Sondershausen Mockrehna-Brandis Dresden-Hermsdorf Neubrandenburg

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: USSR continued

Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War

Date start

1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990

Date end

Missile Missile, aircraft Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Missile Technical Technical Ground forces Nuclear-related, aircraft Nuclear-related Nuclear-related, aircraft Nuclear-related, aircraft Nuclear-related Nuclear-related, aircraft Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW)

Type of base

Satellite ground station SIGINT

Notes

Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary Hungary

Esztergom Kecskemet Szekesfehervar Szombathely Tatabanya Veszprem Tokol Kaposvar Papa Veszprem Debrecen Mezokovesd Pecs

Conakry

GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR GDR Guinea Guinea

Dessau-Zerbst Brand-Breisen AB Riesa-Grossenhain Zossen-Wiensdorf Stralsund Peenemunde Finow Werneuchen Oranienburg Wittstock Zerbst Kothen Welzow Merseburg Alternburg

Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War

Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War – – 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990

1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 – – Missile Missile Missile Missile, aircraft Missile Missile Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Ground forces

Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Nuclear-related (CW/BW) Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Technical Technical

continued

Tracking station Tracking ships, naval R&D, aircraft

Hungary India India Indonesia Iraq Iraq Iraq Kuriles – USSR Laos Libya Libya Libya Libya Libya Libya Mali Mongolia Mongolia Mongolia Mongolia Mongolia Mongolia Mozambique Mozambique Nicaragua North Korea – Peru Poland Poland

Debrecen Kavalur Vishakhapatnam

Najin North Yemen Calleo Borne Swiebodzin

Maputo Beira

Choybalsan Ulan Bator Nalayh Bayan Suma

Tripoli Benghazi Bardia Okba ben Nafi

Umm Quasr Az Zubayr Al Fao Eterofu Island

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: USSR continued

Cold War – – – – – – – – – – – – 1981 – – Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War – – – – – Cold War Cold War Cold War

Date start

1990 – – – 1980 1980 1980 – – 1990 1990 1990 1990 – 1990 1977 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 – – – – Ground forces 1990 1990 1990

Date end

Naval Missile Missile

Nuclear-related Technical Naval – visits Technical Naval Naval Naval Aircraft Technical Technical Naval Naval Naval Aircraft Ground forces Technical Technical Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Ground forces Technical Aircraft Technical Naval

Type of base

Tracking ships

Tracking ships, aircraft

Tracking station Satellite ground station

SIGINT SIGINT

Tracking station

Tracking station

Notes

Cam Ranh Bay Cam Ranh Bay Cape Verde Tivat

Latakia Tartus Ras Shamra Tiyas Umm Aitigah

Khartoum

Aden Socotra Island Aden Int’l Airport

Mangalia Sulina São Tomé and Príncipe Afgoi Birihao Hargeisa Gallaci Amin Uanle Belet Uen

Zagan Szprotawa

Kielce Sinajscie Bierdzany

Poland Poland Poland Poland Poland Poland Poland Poland Romania Romania São Tomé and Príncipe Somalia Somalia Somalia Somalia Somalia Somalia Somalia South Yemen South Yemen South Yemen South Yemen South Yemen Sudan Syria Syria Syria Syria Syria Syria Syria Vietnam Vietnam Vietnam West coast of Africa Yugoslavia

Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War Cold War – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1978 – – – – – – – – – 1975 1975 1975 – –

1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 – – – – 1977 1977 1977 1977 1977 1977 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 – – – – – – – 1990 1990 1990 – –

Technical Technical Technical Technical R&D Aircraft, nuclear-related Aircraft, nuclear-related Ground forces Naval Naval Technical Technical Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Aircraft Technical Naval Naval Aircraft Ground forces Technical Technical Naval Naval – submarine Naval Aircraft Aircraft Ground forces Technical Technical Naval, aircraft Technical Naval, R&D Fishing fleets

Satellite ground station SIGINT

Tracking station SIGINT

SIGINT

SIGINT Tracking station

Tracking station Satellite ground station SIGINT SIGINT

Australia Australia Australia Bahrain Belize Belize Bermuda Bermuda Brunei China Cyprus Cyprus Denmark Falklands Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Gibraltar Hong Kong Hong Kong Iceland Iraq

Perth Darwin Pearce Jufayr Naval Station Belize City Airport Holdfast Camp Kindley Naval Air Station

Serai Hong Kong Pergamos/Dhekelia Akrotiri Sornfelli Port Stanley Bruggen Gutersloh Laarbruch Wildenrath Diepholz Teufelsberg Jever Celle Darnenberg Gorleben Gibraltar Little Sai Wan Tai Mo Shan Keflavik Habbaniyah

Country

Base name

Cold War period: U.K.

1975 1975 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1932

1974 1967

Date start

1983 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1959

Present 1975 1971 1980– 1980– –

Date end C C C – C (until independence) C (until independence) – D C D D D D C D D D D – – – – – – C C C D D

Basis for acquisition* naval CC – (GCHQ) SIGINT CC – nuclear detection naval air stet air CC – LF transmitters ground, air air, naval CC – C3I air CC – LF transmitters CC – LF transmitters air air air air, missiles – SAM CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT CC – COMINT, HF/DF, LF CC – SIGINT CC – SIGINT air air – major base

Type of base

Iraq Iraq Italy Libya Libya Libya Madagascar Maldives Maldives Malta Malta Mauritius Oman Oman Oman Seychelles Singapore Singapore Singapore South Africa South Africa South Africa South Africa South Yemen South Yemen South Yemen Turkey UAE 1958 1980 1958 1971 – – – – – – – – – – – 1966

1966 1956 1956 WWII WWII

1932 1932 –

*C = Conquest, colonialism; D = Access via diplomacy

Shu’aiba Umm Qasr Sigonella (Sicily) El Adem Idris el Awal Tubruq Mahajanga Addu Gan (Addu Island) Luqa Grand Harbour (Valetta) Port Louis Masirah Muscat (Mina Qaboos) Salalah Mahe Changi Serangoon Singapore Durban Simonstown Walvis Bay (Namibia) Youngsfield Air Base (Cape Town) Aden Kamaran Island Khormaksar Konya Air Base Sharjah 1977 1976 1976 1976 1976 1976 1976 1975 – 1967 1967 1967 – 1971

1959 1959 – 1969 1970 1971 1975 1976 1976 1979 1979 1976 1977

D

D

D D D D D D D D D D C D D D D D C C C D D

air naval air air – major base air naval, ground air, ground, naval naval air air – major base naval – major base naval air naval air air, naval air – major base naval – major base ground naval naval – major base naval air naval – major base air air air air

Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Algeria Antilles Benin Cameroon Cameroon Central African Republic Chad Chad Comoros Islands Comoros Islands Comoros Islands Djibouti France France France – Overseas Dept

Algiers Blida Bone Bonfarik Bou Sfer Constantine Fort Flatters Laghouat Lartique Mers el Kebir Oran Ouargla Tlemcen Port Louis Cotonou Douala Koutaba

N’Djamena (Ft. Lamy) Sarh (Ft. Archambault) Camp Voidjou (Moroni) Dzaoudzi (Mayotte) Mayotte (Pamanzi I.) Djibouti Hao I (Tuamotu Group) Kourou (French Guiana) Le Port (Réunion)

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War period: France

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 1947 – – WWII – 1975 – – – 1964 – 1973

Date start

1962 1962 1962 1962 1970 1962 1962 1962 – 1968 1962 1962 1962 – 1960 – 1974 – 1980 1975 – – – – – – –

Date end

C C C C D (post-independence) C C C C C C C C – C C – – D (post-independence) D (post-independence) C C C – C C C

Basis for acquisition*

air – major, ground air – major air – major air – major air – major air – major ground air, ground naval naval – major air – major ground air – major naval, ground naval ground ground air, ground air, ground air ground air, naval ground naval, air, ground air ground, naval, missile launchers naval

Type of base

France France France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept France France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept France France – Overseas Dept France France France France France France – Overseas Dept

France – Overseas Dept France

France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept France – Overseas Dept Gabon Germany Germany Germany Ivory Coast Ivory Coast Madagascar Mali

Mangareva I Mayotte Noumea (New Caledonia) Papeete Pattle Island (Paracel Islands) Point des Galeta (Réunion) Points a Pitre(Guadeloupe) Port Louis (Guadeloupe) Saint Denis (Réunion) Tahiti Tontouata (New Caledonia) Wallis Island Muroroa Papeete (Tahiti) Martinique Djibouti Guadeloupe

Réunion Kerguelen Island

Bourail (New Caledonia) Fort de France (Martinique) Guyana Libreville Baden Pfalz Saarland Abidjan Port Bouet (Abidjan) Diego Suarez Bamako

– – – – – – – – 1978 – –

–

1960s – 1970s 1962 1947 – – – – – 1974 1970s – – – – –

– – – – – – – – 1978 1973 1966

–

– – – – 1950 – – – – – – – – – – – –

C C C D (post-independence) – – – D (post-independence) D (post-independence) – C (lost at independence)

C C

C C C C C C C C C C C C – C C C C

continued

ground – paratroopers air, ground naval air, ground ground ground ground naval, ground air naval air

communications – HF, LF communications – HF

naval naval naval, ground naval, ground, air (no permanent occupation) ground – army air naval air naval, ground air, ground ground naval, nuclear testing communications – LF communications – LF communications – HF communications – HF

Mali Mali Mauritania Mauritius Mayotte Mozambique Channel Islands Niger Republic of Congo Republic of Congo Senegal Senegal Senegal Senegal

Senegal USA Vietnam Vietnam

Gao Tessalit Nouadhibou Tromelin I

Juan de Nova Niamey Brazzaville Point Noire Bel Air Camp (Dakar) Goree (Dakar) Quakam (Yoff) Thies

Dakar Pago Pago (American Samoa) Da Nang Dien Bien Phu

*C = Conquest, colonialism; *D = Access via diplomacy

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Cold War Period: France continued

– 1966 1945 1953

– – 1977 1954 – 1978 – – – – – – –

Date start

– 1974? 1954 1954

1968 1967 1980 – – – 1974 1960 1960 – – – –

Date end

C D C C

C (lost at independence) C (lost at independence) D C – C – – – – D (post independence) D (post independence) D (post independence)

Basis for acquisition*

communications – HF air air – major base ground

ground ground ground air ground ground, air ground important base important base ground naval – major base air air

Type of base

Albania Albania Azores Egypt Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Germany Greenland Guam Honduras Hungary Iceland Italy Japan Japan Korea Oman Oman Oman Qatar Senegal

Bosnia Kosovo Lajes AFB Sinai Ramstein AFB Baumholder Wurzburg Wiesbaden Friedberg Schweinfurt Vilsech Thule Anderson AFB Soto Cano Air Base

Keflavik Sigonella Kadena AFB Yokosuka Camp Humphreys Thumrait Seeb Masirah Al Udeid Dakar

Country (now)

Base name

Post-Cold War period: U.S.

V The post-Cold War period

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Start date – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

End date Peacekeeping Peacekeeping Nuclear (now) Peacekeeping air base air base air base air base air base air base air base nuclear naval air base peacekeeping air base naval air base naval air base air base air base air base air base peacekeeping

Type

continued

main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base BMEWS radar main operating base Forward Operating Site – forward operating site forward operating site main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base main operating base –

Arms resupply (during Cold War)

Notes

Singapore United Kingdom United Kingdom United Kingdom Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Australia Australia Chad Djibouti Germany Italy Japan Kenya Kyrgyzstan Mali Mauritania Niger Senegal Thailand Turkey Uganda U.K. Uzbekistan

Sembawang Port Fylingdale Moor RAF Lakenheath Diego Garcia Bagram Kandahar Mazar e Sharif Exmouth Pine Gap

RAF Mildenhall Khanabad

Dakar Utapao Incirlik

Marias

Spangdahlem Aviano Atsugi

Country (now)

Base name

Post-Cold War period: U.S. continued

– – – – 2001 2001 2001 1950s 1950s 2001 2001 1940s 1950s 1950s 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 – – 2001 1940s 2001

Start date – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

End date naval nuclear air base naval air base air base air base naval naval air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base

Type

forward operating site BMEWS radar forward operating site main operating base cooperative security location cooperative security location cooperative security location – – cooperative security location cooperative security location forward operating site forward operating site forward operating site cooperative security location – cooperative security location cooperative security location cooperative security location cooperative security location forward operating site forward operating site cooperative security location forward operating site –

Notes

Armenia Azerbaijan Georgia Kazakhstan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan

Post-Cold War Russia 1999 1999 1999 1999 1999 1999

3100 ground troops; 1 air defense squadron with 14 MiG-29s Russians occupy ABM radar station at Gabala 5000 ground troops; 1 air regiment with cargo planes, helicopters Russians operate ABM radar station at Balkhash Russian officers command Kyrgyz Border Guard forces 8200 ground troops of the 201st MRD plus other units

Germany Germany Honduras Japan Korea Kuwait Kuwait U.K. U.K.

Ramstein Air Base Grafenwoehr Soto Cano Air Base Katena Air Base Camp Humphreys Camp Ripper Camp Arifjan Diego Garcia RAF Fairford

Note *D = Access via diplomacy

Country (nowadays)

Base name

Present USA

1954 – 1965 1975 – – – – 1944

Start date present – present present – – – – present

End date D D D D D D D D D

Basis for acquisition*

airfield ground force airfield airfield ground force ground force ground force airfield airfield

Type of base

Country (now)

Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Afghanistan Bahrain Ecuador

Egypt

Kuwait Kuwait Kuwait Kuwait Kyrgyzstan Oman Oman

Base name

Fujairah Asadabad Bamian Bagram Gardez Farah Ghazni Heart Jalalabad Khost Lashkar Mazar-e-Sharif Qalat Manama Manta

various

Ahmed Al Jaber Ali Al Salem Camp Arifjan Camp Doha Manas Seeb Masirah

Present USA

1991 1991 1991 1991 2001 – –

1950s

2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 2001 1950s 1999

Start date

– – – – – – –

–

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

End date

air base air and land air base naval air base air base air base

air and naval

air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base air base naval airbase

Type

continued

AWACs, P-3s, drug surveillance overflights, refueling, Suez Canal transit, use of military hospital – pre-positioning of matériel – – major – –

minor minor major minor minor minor minor minor minor minor minor minor minor

Notes

Country (now)

Oman Oman Pakistan Pakistan Pakistan Pakistan Qatar Saudi Arabia Saudi Arabia Saudi Arabia Turkey United Arab Emirates United Arab Emirates Uzbekistan

Base name

Masna’ah Thumrait Jacobabad Dalbandin Shamsi Pasni Al Udeid Shaikh Isa Eskan Village Prince Sultan Incirlik Jebel Ali Al Dhafra Khanabad

Present USA continued

– – 2001 2001 2001 2001 – – – – 1950s – – 2001

Start date – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

End date air base air base air base air base air base air base – air base air base air base air base naval air base air base

Type – – major minor minor minor – – – – – – – major

Notes

Notes

1 Introduction 1 The only database, for 1945–1982, was compiled by Owen Wilkes and is in unpublished form at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI). 2 Thucyides, History of the Peloponnesian War, translated by Crawley (New York: Random House, 1951). 3 See Bruce Swanson, Eighth Voyage of the Dragon: A History of China’s Quest for Seapower (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1982). 4 D.S. Benson, Six Emperors: Mongolian Aggression in the Thirteenth Century (Chicago: D. Benson, 1995). 5 For the basics, see Nicholas Spykman, The Geography of the Peace (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1944); Halford Mackinder, Democratic Ideals and Reality (New York: Norton, 1962); Saul Cohen, Geography and Politics in a World Divided (New York: Random House, 1963); and Hans Weigert, V. Stefansson and R. Harrison, eds., New Compass of the World (New York: Macmillan, 1949). 6 A.N. Porter, ed., Atlas of British Overseas Expansion (London: Routledge, 1991); P.M. Kennedy, the Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery (New York: Scribner’s, 1976); and Gerald Graham, The Politics of Naval Supremacy: Studies in British Maritime Ascendency (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965). 7 Robert E. Harkavy, Bases Abroad: The Global Foreign Military Presence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 99. 8 Robert E. Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases (New York: Pergamon, 1982), pp. 73–74. 9 See Department of Defense, Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, Final Report to Congress Pursuant to Title V of the Persian Gulf Conflict Supplemental Authorization and Personnel Benefits Act of 1991 (Public Law 102–125), Washington, DC, April 1992. 10 Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 189–190. 11 See “Crouching Tiger, Swimming Dragon,” New York Times, April 11, 2005, p. A23. 12 Harkavy, Bases Abroad, p. 136. 13 Ibid., p. 82, See also, Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, p. 116. 14 D. Campbell, The Unsinkable Aircraft Carrier: American Military Power (London: Paladin, 1986). 15 These definitional problems are discussed in Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 7–8. 16 Ibid., p. 17. 17 C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire: 1415–1825 (New York: Knopf, 1969), especially p. 28. 18 J.R. Blaker, S.J. Tsagronis and K.T. Walter, U.S. Global Basing: U.S. Basing Options, Report for the U.S. Department of Defense, HI-3916-RR, Hudson Institute, Alexandria, October 1987. 19 See, for instance, Frank Barnaby, “On Target with an Omega Station,” New Scientist,

254

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

34 35 36

37 38 39 40 41

42 43

Notes

Vol. 109, No. 993 (25 March 1976), pp. 671–672; or Desmond Ball, A Case for Debate: The U.S. Satellite Station at Nurrungar (Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1987). See Jacqueline K. Davis, Forward Presence and U.S. Security Policy: Implications for Force Posture, Service Roles and Joint Planning (Cambridge: Institute for Foreign Policy Analysis, 1995), National Security Paper no. 16. Hans W. Weigert, “U.S. Bases and Collective Security,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 25, No. 2 (January 1947), pp. 250–262. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, op. cit., and Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire 1600–1800 (New York: Knopf, 1969). J.H. Parry, The Spanish Seaborne Empire (New York: Knopf, 1967). Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery (New York: Scribner’s, 1976); and Gerald Graham, The Politics of Naval Supremacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965). A.N. Porter, ed., Atlas of British Overseas Expansion (London: Routledge, 1991). Frederick Lane, Venice: A Maritime Republic (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973). Peter Padfield, Tide of Empires, Vols. 1, 2 and 3 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979, 1982). Jack S. Levy, “War in the Modern Great Power-System, 1495–1975,” in William R. Thompson, Contending Approaches to World System Analysis (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1983), Chapter 8. R.C. Anderson, Naval Wars in the Baltic (London: Francis Edwards, 1969). Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, op. cit. Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, op. cit., p. 74. Harkavy, Bases Abroad, op. cit. The unpublished Wilkes dataset, covering the period 1945–1982, is available at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute. For the thesis that system structure has historically alternated between bipolarity and multipolarity, see Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1979), pp. 70–71, 161–163, 168–169; and various selections in Robert O. Keohane, Neo-Realism and Its Critics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986). Levy, op. cit., especially pp. 11–19. Jeffrey Richelson and Desmond Ball, The Ties That Bind (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1985). Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Seapower Upon History, 1600–1783 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1980), revised edition; Clark G. Reynolds, Command of the Sea (New York: William Morrow, 1974) and Colin Gray, The Leverage of Sea Power (New York: The Free Press, 1992). William Thompson, “Passing the Torch in a Manner of Speaking: The System Leader Lineage,” paper presented at annual meeting of International Studies Association, Toronto, Canada, 1997. Robert E. Harkavy, “Global and Sub-Global Reach: An Initial Effort at Scope and Definition,” paper presented at annual meeting of International Studies Association, Montreal, Canada, 2004. B. Swanson, Eighth Voyage of the Dragon, op. cit. D.S. Benson, Six Emperors, op. cit. Information on Ottoman basing drawn from Padfield, Tides of Empires, Vol. I; John Guilmartin, Gunpowder and Galleys (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974); and also, replete with maps, Karen Farrington, Historical Atlas of Empires (New York: Checkmark Books, 2002), pp. 144–147. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, op. cit., p. 49, wherein Portuguese dockyard facilities in Goa are cited. Parry, The Spanish Seaborne Empire, op. cit., and G.V. Scammell, The First Imperial Age: European Overseas Expansion c. 1400–1715 (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989).

Notes

255

44 Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, op. cit. On Wallerstein’s view that the Netherlands was the first global hegemon, see the discussion in Peter J. Taylor, Political Geography, 2nd edn (New York: Longman, 1989), pp. 33–34, 62–63. 45 See, among others, A.N. Porter, ed., Atlas of British Overseas Expansion, op. cit. 46 See Bruce W. Watson, Red Navy at Sea: Soviet Naval Operations on the High Seas 1956–80 (Boulder: Westview, 1982). 47 Spain’s shipyards in Havana are noted in J. Parry, op. cit., p. 249 and p. 255. 48 This thesis is elaborated on in Chalmers Johnson, The Sorrows of Empire (New York: Henry Holt, 2004), especially Chapter 6 under “The Empire of Bases.” 49 See among others, Don C. Seitz, Under the Black Flag (New York: The Dial Press, 1925). 50 Peter Padfield, Tide of Empires (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), p. 4. 51 Regarding the station fleets, see S.S. Roberts, “The Decline of the Overseas Station Fleets: The United States Asiatic Fleet and the Shanghai Crisis, 1932” (Arlington: Center for Naval Analyses, 1977), Professional Paper No. 208, November. 52 Robert E. Harkavy, The Arms Trade and International Systems (Cambridge: Ballinger, 1975), pp. 154–155. 53 A.N. Porter, ed., Atlas of British Overseas Expansion, 1991, p. 118. 54 Ibid. 55 R. Harkavy, Bases Abroad, op. cit., p. 17. 56 Ibid., Chapter 5. 57 Robert E. Harkavy, The Arms Trade and International Systems (Cambridge: Ballinger, 1975), Chapter 2. 58 See Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1979), especially pp. 70–71, 130, 168–169. 59 A good review of this is in David Sacko, “Re-tailoring the Emperor: Hegemonic Governance and the Process of Conflict,” Ph.D. Thesis, Penn State University, October 2002. 60 Ted Hopf, “Polarity, the Offense Defense Balance and War,” The American Political Science Review, Vol. 85, No. 2 (June 1991), pp. 475–493. 61 See, among others, George Modelski, Long Cycles in World Politics (London: Macmillan, 1987) and George Modelski and William R. Thompson, Seapower in Global Politics, 1494–1993 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1988). 62 See P.J. Taylor, Political Geography, 3rd edn (Essex: Longman, 1993), especially pp. 64–76, in comparing long cycle and world systems theories, and Immanuel Wallerstein, The Politics of the World Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), Chapter 3, under “the three instances of hegemony in the history of the capitalist world – economy.” 63 Levy, op. cit., pp. 11–19. 64 Ibid., p. 47. 65 Gray, The Leverage of Seapower, op. cit., and Mahan, The Influence of Seapower Upon History 1600–1783, op. cit. 66 Oywind Osterud, “The Uses and Abuses of Geopolitics,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 25, No. 2, pp. 191–199. 67 Peter Padfield, Tides of Empires, Vol. 1, “Introduction.” 68 William Thompson, “Passing the Torch in a Manner of Speaking, The System Leader Lineage,” paper presented at meeting of the International Studies Association, Toronto, Canada, 1997, p. 19. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid. 71 Nicholas Spykman, America’s Strategy in World Politics (New York: Harcourt, Brace 1942); Nicholas Spykman, The Geography of the Peace (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1944) and Saul Cohen, Geography and Politics in a World Divided (New York: Random House, 1963).

256

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72 R.E. Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, op. cit., p. 111. 73 Bradford Dismukes and Jamie McConnell, Soviet Naval Diplomacy (New York: Pergamon, 1979). 74 Geoffrey Kemp and R.E. Harkavy, Strategic Geography and the Changing Middle East (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1997), Chapter 2. 2 The Mongols and the Mings: naval basing during an earlier age of sail 1 Peter Padfield, Tides of Empire, Vol. 1, 1481–1654 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), Introduction, pp. 1–18. 2 For a geographic picture of the expanse of the Mongol Empire, see Karen Farrington, Historical Atlas of Empires: From 4000 BC to the 21st Century (Dulles: IPM/Mercury, 2004), Chapter 5. 3 Among other sources, see D.S. Benson, Six Emperors: Mongolian Aggression in the Thirteenth Century (Chicago: D.S. Benson, 1995). 4 Ibid., pp. 347, 367–368. 5 Ibid., pp. 361–362. 6 Ibid., pp. 369–370. 7 Bruce Swanson, Eighth Voyage of the Dragon: A History of China’s Quest for Seapower (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1982), p. 33. 8 Ibid., pp. 36–40. 9 Again, this concept comes from William Thompson, “Passing the Torch in a Manner of Speaking: The System Leader Lineage,” paper presented at meeting of International Studies Association, Toronto, Canada, 1997. 10 Swanson, op. cit., p. 42. 3 The Mediterranean basing competition and galley warfare: Venice, Genoa, Ottoman Empire, Spain, circa 1200–1600 1 See George Modelski and William R. Thompson, Leading Sectors and World Powers: The Coevolution of Global Politics and Economics (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1996), Table 8.5, p. 137. 2 Frederick C. Lane, Venice (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1973), p. 126. 3 G.V. Scammell, The First Imperial Age: European Overseas Expansion c.1400–1715 (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989), p. 15. 4 A good general work on Mediterranean galley warfare is John F. Guilmartin, Gunpowder and Galleys (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974). 5 Frederick C. Lane, op. cit., pp. 128–132; and Peter Padfield, Tides of Empires, Vol. 1 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), Chapter 3 under “Mediterranean Centre.” 6 Lane, op. cit., pp. 13–80, 174–179; and Padfield, Vol. 1, Chapter 3. 7 Lane, op. cit., especially Chapter 7 and 14. 8 See the map in Lane, Venice, op. cit., p. 71 and also pp. 128–129, 174–175. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid., pp. 68–69. 11 Ibid., p. 68. 12 Ibid., p. 177. 13 Ibid., p. 43. 14 Ibid., p. 70. 15 Ibid., pp. 73–75. 16 Ibid., pp. 82–85. 17 Ibid., pp. 174–179. 18 Ibid., pp. 126–128. 19 Ibid., pp. 228–231.

Notes 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

257

Ibid., chapter 16, pp. 288, 349. Padfield, Tide of Empire, Vol. 1, op. cit., pp. 88–95. Padfield, op. cit., pp. 88–89, for discussion of the battle of Goleta. Ibid., pp. 91–95, for discussion of the battle of Prevesa. Ibid., p. 89. Guilmartin, Gunpowder and Galleys, op. cit., Chapter 1. Ibid., p. 96. Ibid., p. 98. Ibid., pp. 101–102. Ibid., p. 105.

4 Basing systems in the age of empire and sail 1 The best overall source is C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire (New York: Knopf, 1969). See also Jan Glete, Warfare at Sea, 1500–1650 (London: Routledge, 2000), Chapter 5 under “The Portuguese in Maritime Asia, 1498–1600”; G.V. Scammell, The First Imperial Age: European Overseas Expansion c.1400–1715 (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989), especially Chapter 1; and J.H. Parry, Europe and a Wider World, 1415–1715 (London: Hutchinson, 1949). 2 See George Modelski and William R. Thompson, Leading Sectors and World Powers: The Coevolution of Global Politics and Economics (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1996). See in particular table on p. 137. 3 Peter J. Taylor, Political Geography, Second Edition (London: Longman, 1989), Chapter 1 under “The World System Approach to Political Geography.” 4 Jack S. Levy, “World System Analysis: A Great Power Framework,” in William R. Thompson, Contending Approaches to World System Analysis (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1983), Chapter 8. 5 Boxer, op. cit., pp. 25–29. 6 Ibid., pp. 25–31. 7 Glete, op. cit., Chapter 1, and Peter Padfield, Tides of Empires, Vol. 1 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), Chapters 1 and 2. 8 Ibid. 9 For details of these Portuguese acquisitions, see Boxer, op. cit., Chapter 1–4, Padfield, Chapters 1 and 2, and Scammell, op. cit., Chapter 1 under “Imperial Beginnings.” 10 See the map in Padfield, p. 20, entitled “Wind and current systems of the Atlantic.” 11 Nagasaki and Macao are discussed in Boxer, op. cit., pp. 63–64. 12 Boxer, p. 61, notes that “for most of the 16th century Antwerp was the principal entrepot for the Lisbon pepper.” 13 Padfield, Vol. 1, p. 64. 14 Ibid., pp. 70–72. 15 Boxer, op. cit., pp. 49, 209–210. 16 Ibid., Chapter 2, and Padfield, Chapter 2. 17 The best overall coverage, from which much of the subsequent data is drawn, is J.H. Parry, The Spanish Seaborne Empire (New York: Knopf, 1967). 18 Ibid., pp. 40–44. 19 Padfield, Vol. 1, pp. 88–96. 20 Ibid., p. 76. 21 Parry, op. cit., Chapters 3 and 4. 22 Parry, p. 249, who says that “in 1650 less than a third of the ships in the Carrera were Spanish-built.” 23 Padfield, Vol. 1, p. 131, who notes the great Spanish Armada in 1587 was assembled at Lisbon and other ports. Glete, pp. 163–164, notes the landing of 3400 Spanish soldiers at Kinsale, who later surrendered. See also Glete, op. cit., p. 157.

258 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

45 46 47 48

Notes Scammell, op. cit., p. 135. Parry, p. 117. Ibid., p. 121. Ibid., p. 123. Ibid., p. 131. Ibid., p. 132. Ibid., p. 134. Ibid., p. 135. Wallerstein’s thesis is discussed in Peter J. Taylor, Political Geography (London: Longman, 1989), Chapter 1, under “A world-systems approach to political geography.” Jack S. Levy, “World System Analysis: A Great Power Framework,” in William Thompson, ed., Contending Approaches to World System Analysis (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1983), Chapter 8. Ibid., especially pp. 190–196. Padfield, Vol. 1, p. 158, regarding the Dutch driving the Portuguese from the Moluccas, chief source of the most valuable spices, and also from the smaller islands of Tidore and Ternate. The data here is drawn from C.R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, 1600–1800 (New York: Knopf, 1965); Glete, op. cit., Chapters 8–10; and Padfield, Vol. l, Chapter 5 under “The Dutch Empire of the Oceans,” Padfield, p. 180, refers to Dutch Caribbean entrepôts at Curacao, St. Eustatius, St. Martin’s, Aruba and Buen Ayre. The Dutch Asian network, involving Zeelandia and Nagasaki, is discussed in Glete, op. cit., p. 172. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, pp. 87–89. Glete, pp. 173–176; Padfield, Vol. 1, pp. 170–171. R.C. Anderson, Naval Wars in the Baltic, 1522–1850 (London: Francis Edwards, 1910), p. 100. Ibid., p. 60. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, p. 69; George Modelski and William Thompson, Seapower in Global Politics, 1494–1993 (Seattle: University of Washington, 1988), pp. 187–193. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, p. 69; Modelski and Thompson, Seapower in Global Politics, pp. 187–193. The fluit, or flute-ship, is discussed in Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, pp. 20 and 68, and Scannell, op. cit., p. 226. The following analysis of the evolvement of the British basing structure over several centuries is based primarily on Paul M. Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery (New York: Scribner’s, 1976); Gerald Graham, The Politics of Naval Supremacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965); Richard Harding, Seapower and Naval Warfare, 1650–1830 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1999); Jan Glete, Warfare at Sea, 1500–1650 (London: Routledge, 2000); Peter Padfield, Tides of Empires, 1481–1654, Vol. 1 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979); Peter Padfield, Tides of Empire, Vol. 2 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982); Peter Padfield, Maritime Power and the Struggle for Freedom (London: John Murray, 2003); and A.N. Porter, ed., Atlas of British Overseas Expansion (London: Routledge, 1991). Porter, op. cit., pp. 24–25. Kennedy, op. cit., Chapter 2, under “The Stuart Navy and the Wars with the Dutch (1603–1688)”; Padfield, Vol. 1, Chapters 1, 2 and 4. J.H. Parry, Trade and Dominion (New York: Praeger, 1971), p. 74; Porter, op. cit., pp. 10–13. Padfield, Vol. 2, p. 76, notes British acquisition of Goree and Brielle in 1670; Scammell, op. cit., p. 120; Porter, op. cit., pp. 14–15, 56.

Notes

259

49 Kennedy, p. 55, notes British access to Lisbon in 1656–1657, op. cit., p. 86, discusses the Methuen Treaty with Portugal, whereby Lisbon became a “wintering base vital for the supply of Gibraltar.” See also Padfield, Vol. 2, p. 167. British access to Lisbon during the Napoleonic Wars is noted in Padfield, Maritime Power and the Struggle for Freedom, p. 127. 50 Porter, pp. 22–25, discusses British naval access in Ireland. 51 Ibid., pp. 182–184, 256; Porter, p. 18. 52 The strategic importance of Trincomalee is discussed in Graham, pp. 45–46. See also Porter, pp. 122–127. 53 Kennedy, op. cit., pp. 129, 154, in the latter, Cape Town (Simonstown) is described as “perhaps the most important strategical position in the world in the age of sea power.” See also Porter, pp. 80–81. 54 Kennedy, op. cit., p. 130; Porter, pp. 55–56, 64. 55 Porter, op. cit., map on p. 42. 56 Ibid., p. 134. 57 Ibid., pp. 167–168, 180 (deployments on the China Station); Graham, op. cit., pp. 42, 53; and Padfield, Vol. 3, p. 353; and Porter, pp. 93–94. 58 Kennedy, op. cit., pp. 155, 166 (annexation of Lagos); Porter, pp. 103–104. 59 Porter, pp. 142–143. 60 Ibid., pp. 137–138. 61 Lawrence Sondhaus, Naval Warfare, 1815–1914 (London: Routledge, 2001), p. 28. 62 Porter, op. cit., p. 119. A similar snapshot for the year 1881 is provided on p. 120. 63 Generally speaking, information on the elaboration of a French basing structure over several centuries can be gleamed from Padfield, Vol. 2, op. cit., Chapters 3 and 5 under “Colbert and the Rise of France” and “The Maritime Powers Against the Sun King;” Kennedy, op. cit., particularly in connection with the wars against Great Britain; Sondhaus, Naval Warfare, 1815–1914; Padfield, Vol. 1, especially Chapter 5; J.H. Parry, Trade and Dominion, Chapter 7; and Scammell, op. cit., The First Imperial Age, especially Chapters 3 and 4. 64 See Padfield, Vol. 1, “Introduction,” p. 10, where France is described as a hybrid between land and sea power: France was at least two nations, a centralized territorial power controlled from Paris and a centrifugal fringe of seaports, some like Le Havre, St. Malo, La Rochelle facing the Atlantic, a vigorous part of the system of Western oceanic powers, others, notably Marseille, cut off from there by the Iberian peninsula and facing the Mediterranean. 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

Padfield, op. cit., Vol. 1, p. 89. Scammell, op. cit., p. 39. Padfield, Vol. 2, Chapter 5, under “the Maritime Powers Against the Sun King.” Padfield, Vol. 1, p. 164. Padfield, Vol. 2, Chapter 7. Ibid., p. 246, which discusses the British capture of Pondicherry in 1761. France’s loss of Nova Scotia is noted in Scammell, op. cit., p. 36. Kennedy, op. cit., p. 130. Padfield, Maritime Power, p. 276. Kennedy, op. cit., p. 195, notes in relation to Britain’s control of crucial sea lines of communication, the French threats from Dakar, Bizerte and Diego Suarez. Padfield, Vol. 2, pp. 228–231. Ibid., pp. 243–245, discusses the crucial naval battle at Quiberon Bay. A very detailed coverage is in R.C. Anderson, Naval Warfare in the Baltic, 1522–1858 (London: Francis Edwards, 1910), reprinted with new introduction in 1969. An additional source of information on basing diplomacy during the long period of Baltic naval warfare is in Jan Glete, op. cit., pp. 116–130, under “The rise

260

77

78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114

Notes of Nordic sea power, 1500–1700.” See also Richard Harding, Seapower and Naval Warfare, 1650–1830 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1999), pp. 18, 19. For a good summary over several centuries, see Ludwig Dehio, The Precarious Balance: Four Centuries of the European Power Struggle (New York: Knopf, 1962). Anderson, op. cit., provides a lot of politico-diplomatic context at the beginning of each of his chapters devoted to phases of naval warfare. Anderson, op. cit., p. 242, regarding the war between Sweden and Russia. Ibid., 159, 160. Ibid., p. 237. For a review of formal rules regarding neutrality during wars, see the Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. 3 (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1997), pp. 544–570, especially pp. 558–567, under “Neutrality in Sea Warfare.” Anderson, p. 64. Ibid., p. 74. Ibid., p. 102. Ibid., p. 171. Ibid., p. 177. Ibid., p. 221. Ibid., p. 268. Ibid., p. 297. Ibid., p. 315. Ibid., Introduction. Ibid., Section I. Ibid., Section II. Ibid., Section III. Ibid., Section IV. Ibid., Section V. Ibid., p. 103. Ibid., Section VI. Ibid., pp. 128–129. Ibid., Section VII. Ibid., Section VIII. Ibid., Section XIX. Ibid., Section X. Ibid., pp. 206–207. Ibid., Section XI. Ibid., pp. 212–213. Ibid., p. 222. Ibid., Section XII. Ibid., pp. 224–226. Ibid., Section XIII. Ibid., Section XIV. Ibid., Section XV. Ibid. Ibid., Conclusion.

5 The interwar period: a transitional era 1 Much of the material in this chapter is drawn from the author’s previously published Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases: The Geopolitics of Access Diplomacy (New York: Pergamon, 1982). 2 For comparisons of differing perspectives on definitions of the structure of the interwar international system, see R.E. Harkavy, The Arms Trade and International Systems (Cambridge: Ballinger, 1975), Chapter 2.

Notes 3 4 5 6 7

8 9

10

11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23

261

Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, Chapter 2. Ibid., pp. 48–50. Ibid., Chapter 3. Ibid., p. 86. See, in this regard, the discussions of Tirpitz’s “risk theory” in Herbert Rosinski, The Development of Naval Thought (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 1977), pp. 54–55; and Leonard Wainstein, “The Dreadnought Gap,” in Robert Art and Kenneth Waltz, eds., The Use of Force (Boston: Little, Brown, 1971), pp. 153–169. For the impact of World War I on military technology, see Bernard Brodie, Sea Power in the Machine Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941), pp. 248–251, 379–383. See Rosinski, Development of Naval Thought, Chapter 4. This is discussed in detail in the Military Intelligence Division, National Archives of the United States, MID 2075–57 and in 265-T-398, wherein is noted the British desire not to see any other nation’s naval bases en route from the Mediterranean to India, which required British control over Palestine and a protectorate over Egypt, and restriction of France to a weak presence in Lebanon. The British are here indicated as uneasy over the French presence in Syria under the League Mandate. See MID 2667–14, which discusses Conservative resistance to Labour Party proposals for closing British bases in the Western hemisphere in 1930. The discussion was related to the then recently consummated Kellogg–Briand Pact intended to “outlaw” war, in which context the Labour government considered dismantling the British naval base at Kingston as a goodwill gesture. For instance, MID 2667-H-58 discusses Japanese seaplane facility requirements in the Palaus and on Saipan; 2081–1380 discusses a network of French seaplane stations in Indochina; 272–61 refers to facilities for Sikorsky flying boats; 2081–1061 discusses German access in Brazil to a facility for its dirigibles. In 1941, according to 1840–1, the United States was very interested in a flying boat base under construction at Jui in Liberia as a staging point between northeast Brazil and East Africa. For a more complete analysis of the basing requirements for airships during the interwar period, crucially involving large mooring masts, see Basil Collier, The Airships: A History (New York: Putnam, 1974). Airships were heavily used in World War I for bombing, ASW, even for transport of arms (the Germans tried during the war to ferry arms to Eire). Collier (pp. 202–203) notes a British mooring mast network en route to Karachi, using facilities at Ismailia, Baghdad, Basra, Athens and Malta. MID 2083–1403 and 2714–5. MID 253–261. Ibid. Ibid. Further regarding British interwar basing policies in the Pacific and Indian Ocean areas, see Stephen Roskill, Naval Policy Between the Wars, Vol. 1, 1919–1929 (New York: Walker & Co., 1969), Chapter 7. MID 2083–1610. MID 265–261. MID 2083–1702. See MID-2083 for information on the RAF station, at Ramleh in Palestine. During the 1930s, as noted in Harkavy, The Arms Trade and International Systems (Cambridge: Ballinger, 1975), p. 153, Greece was producing on license the Atlas Reconnaissance, Avro 626, Avro Tutor and Blackburn Velos aircraft. See also MID 2017–1270 regarding British use of Greek facilities. MID 2083–1448, 2083–1573 and 2667–14. Kingston then had considerable naval repair capability; Halifax also had extensive drydocking capability. MID 2667–14. MID 2657–122 lists Prince Rupert as well as Esquimalt as a British facility on the western coast of Canada.

262

Notes

24 See MID-2017–1270/44 regarding British facilities at Freetown; 2083–1731 on British air bases in West Africa; and 2086–738 regarding British bases in East Africa. 25 See MID 2667-ZZ-30, 2657–3–27, 2535–28, and 242–96 regarding the Azores facilities. For more extensive detail regarding British and American activities directed at acquiring access to facilities in the Azores in the early phases of World War II, see Kenneth G. Weiss, “The Azores in Diplomacy and Strategy, 1940–1945,” Professional Paper 272 (Alexandria: Center for Naval Analyses, March 1980). 26 See MID 2840–1 and 183–69 regarding Bolama in Portuguese Guinea. 27 See MID 2331–272 and 272–61 for a discussion of French bases in the Caribbean area at the outset of World War II – i.e., Martinique, Guadeloupe and French Guyana. 28 See Samuel Huntington, “Arms Races: Prerequisites and Results,” in Art and Waltz, Use of Force, pp. 365–401, who discusses the Anglo-French naval race between 1840 and 1866, and one pitting England vs. France and Russia from 1884 to 1904. 29 MID 265–261. 30 Ibid. 31 MID 2081–1380, 2714–4, and 2081–1273. 32 MID 263–261 and 183–167. 33 MID 2351–7. 34 See MID 2081–1062 and 2610-E-66 regarding development of air bases at Bizerte and Tunis. 35 MID 2083–1731, 2081–193, and 2081–1352. 36 MID 2081/1352. 37 MID 183–354 and 2637–298. 38 MID 2637–281. 39 MID-2087–152 and 2087–207. 40 MID 2667–81, 2652–298, 2087–211 and 265–261. 41 See George A. Weller, Bases Overseas: An American Trusteeship in Power (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1944); and Hans Weigert, “Strategic Bases,” in H. Weigert, V. Stefansson and R. Harrison, eds., New Compass of the World (New York: Macmillan, 1949), pp. 219–237. 42 MID 20674–37, 20987–298, and 6270–345. These report on rumors that the Germans were buying up coffee plantations and other such assets in Central America to be used for clandestine military purposes. 43 MID 2017–1009. Michael Howard, The Continental Commitment (London: Temple, Smith, 1972), pp. 29–30, notes earlier decisions, in 1902 and 1907, which were precedental in terms of the British Atlantic bases. 44 See Richard Millett, “The State Department’s Navy: A History of the Special Service Squadron, 1920–1940,” The American Neptune, 35 (1975), pp. 118–138. 45 Stephen S. Roberts, “The Decline of the Overseas Station Fleets: The United States Asiatic Fleet and the Shanghai Crisis, 1932,” Professional Paper no. 208, Center for Naval Analyses (Arlington: November 1977). 46 See, inter alia, MD 2574–1308 and 300-B-574. 47 MID 2667-ZZ-27. 48 Ibid. 49 MID 2667-ZZ-27. 50 Ibid. 51 MID 2667–21 and 2667-ZZ-27. 52 MID 272–61. 53 MID 2667-ZZ-28. Then, MID 2257-ZZ-275 and 2257-ZZ-30 report on the importance of Greenland at the outset of World War II for meteorological stations. 54 MID 2667-ZZ-30. 55 Regarding early development of radar, prior to and during World War II, see John Carroll, Secrets of Electronic Espionage (New York: E.G. Dutton, 1966), book 2.

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56 See Harkavy, Arms Trade, Chapter 4. Ecuador and Paraguay among the Latin American states then acquired the highest proportion of their arms from the Axis Powers. 57 See MID 2637-K-93, which reports, “Teuto-Brazilians” taking jobs as bartenders etc. around Natal and Fortaleza, and about German control of Brazil’s Condor Airline. 58 MID-2637–241. Regarding possible German U-boat bases, fears were expressed particularly about locales in Peru and Chile. 59 MID 2657-M-292. 60 See MID 2665–15, which in particular notes the activities of the German firm, Sedta; and 2667–33–29, which discusses a U.S. offer to build up the Ecuadorean air force in exchange for Galapagos bases at a time when Ecuador was deemed unhappy with the aircraft it had purchased from Italy. 61 The state of technology for aerial reconnaissance during this period is examined in Glenn B. Infield, Unarmed and Unafraid (London: Macmillan, 1970), Chapter 4. 62 MID 2637-M-292. By August 1940, all Latin American countries except Argentina and Uruguay had agreed to military staff conversations along these lines. For instance, MID 2657-Q-188 discusses General Marshall’s discussions with Chile about U.S. access to emergency landing fields and POL storage dumps at a time when Chile was looking for the United States to pressure the U.K. about expedited arms shipments – those arms requests were said to conflict with allied priorities. 63 MID 183-Z-130 and 10987–73. Herein is related an alleged Nazi plot to take over Vichy French communications facilities, resulting in cancellation of the French concession and subsequent granting to the United States of air and naval access. 64 MID 2667-ZZ-31. 65 See MID-2537–103, 183-Z-130, and 10541–1007, the latter reporting on access granted to U.S. mechanics needed for servicing P-40 fighter aircraft being ferried to the Panama Canal via Mexico. 66 See MID-242–196 for discussion of U.S. consideration of purchase or lease of the Galapagos to preempt similar Japanese designs on them. 67 MID-2052–121, 2637-M-292, and 10919–48. 68 See MID 183–354, and 2657–298 which also discusses occupations of Curacao, Aruba and Bonaire, involving British forces also. 69 MID 2657-M-292, 183-Z-130, and 2340–64. Mexico was an exception here in requiring special, ad hoc permission for each overflight. 70 See MID 300-B-572, and 2840–1, discussing among other things clandestine U.S. surveys of possible facility sites, and the possibility of use of a Firestone rubber plantation. 71 One possible partial exception, noted by Collier, The Lion and the Eagle (New York: Putnam, 1972), p. 336, was the basing of U.S. bombers at Clark Field, intended to knock out Japanese airfields on Formosa in the case of war. This strategy was, of course, preempted by the Japanese raids on the Philippines simultaneous with the assault on Pearl Harbor. 72 See MID 302-B-574 and 10582–59, which also discuss possible U.S. base sites at Jolo, Halsey Harbor and Cebu City, the latter deemed important because of its location in relation to the Japanese base at Yap in the Caroline Islands. 73 MID 2657–298. 74 See, in particular, Claudio G. Segre, Fourth Shore: The Italian Colonization of Libya (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974). 75 MID 2086–362 and 2086–635. 76 MID 2086–460. 77 MID 2779–2 and 2018–358. 78 MID 2657-V-296 also reports on the Germans’ use of air facilities on Rhodes and other Italian-controlled Aegean Islands. 79 MID 2086–847 and 2022–611.

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Notes

80 However, as noted in MID 2022–611/28, Britain did refuse overflights for the ferrying of Italian warplanes from Tripoli over Sudan, after initially permitting some. 81 See, in particular, MID 2791–8 and 2657-E-336. 82 MID 2267-A-37 reports the destruction of the Italian Red Sea navy in February 1940 and the shipping of 20,000 Italian prisoners to India. 83 See MID 2657–241 and 2048–182. 84 See MID-2637-S-144. 85 See MID 2657-S-144, 2093–203, and 2093–112. Also, as noted in MID 2637–230, Italy apparently had some air access to the Cape Verde Islands at the war’s outset. 86 See Howard, Continental Commitment, p. 59. 87 See Rosinski, Development of Naval Thought, Chapter 4. Howard, Continental Commitment, p. 67, reports on British fears that Germany would establish submarine bases on the Indian Ocean after gaining control of the Caucasus, Armenia, Persia and Mesopotamia. 88 MID-2266-E-4. 89 The MID files report Allied fears of such German access in numerous places, but particularly in Panama, Venezuela, Ecuador, Colombia and several other Central American countries, all within close proximity to the Panama Canal. Portuguese and Spanish territories at home and abroad were also very frequently the subjects of speculation and analysis. 90 See, regarding the importance of the Low Countries for fighter and bomber bases at the outset of World War II, Howard, Continental Commitment, p. 117. 91 See Harkavy, Arms Trade, Chapter 4, for data regarding Axis arms supplies to Nationalist Spain. 92 MID 2637–230 and 2657-S-144. 93 Ibid., and MID 2093–191. 94 MID 2081–1061. 95 MID 2637–244, 2472–129, and 2459–145. 96 This is discussed in great detail in MID-242–96. 97 Ibid., which notes that Germany and Italy, with between them some 14,000 bombers and 8000 fighter aircraft in 1939, were trying to maintain a 3:2 superiority ratio over the combined U.K.-France-USSR airforces. 98 MID 2041–121 and 2657-J-27, the latter discussing the possibility in 1941 of a German invasion of Portugal to secure bases there and in Madeira, Cape Verde and Portuguese Guinea. 99 MID 2677–22 reports on German access to forward air bases in Bulgaria in 1939. In 1940 Germany also apparently acquired access to several forward air bases in Hungary, according to MID 2082–981. 100 MID 2093–203 and 2072–482, the latter reporting on the use by German submarines and surface raiders of the Bay of El Rio between the islands of Lanzarote and Graciosa. But German requests for a radio facility at Tangiers were apparently denied. 101 MID 2317-H-24. 102 See MID 2280-J-97. 103 MID 2667-D-1061, regarding the repair of Soviet merchant ships at British-owned dockyards at Shanghai in 1941 at a time when Soviet diplomacy was steering between a Chinese and Japanese orientation. 104 MID 2657–166. 105 MID 2063–357, 2724-H-58. 106 MID 2667-H-29. 107 MID 2085–885. 108 MID 2657-H-528 reports on a Japanese ultimatum to Vichy France in July 1941 regarding eight air bases and two naval bases, which were characterized as “strategically defensive” in character, to prevent British and American influence from shutting off supplies of rubber, tin and rice from Thailand and Indochina. See

Notes

109 110 111 112

113 114 115 116

117 118 119 120 121 122

265

also 2081–1380 for an analysis of Japanese plans to use Indochina bases for an assault against Malaya; as well as Collier, The Lion and the Eagle, p. 335. MID 2073–673. See Mid 2124–77, which has Siam denying rumors about Japanese use of some of its islands for submarines, ascribing the rumors to the “Third International.” See also 2085–898 regarding Japanese aircraft access to Siam. MID 176-S-30. MID 2667-H-58 reports on the informant’s role of a Filipino missionary, one of only a few missionaries allowed in the Palau Islands by the Japanese, and who also reported on the dredging of lagoons to allow for mooring of battleships. See also MID 2342–174 and 2657–411 for developments on Mortlock around 1933. MID 2085–957. MID 2667-H-58 and 2085–957. MID 2085–957. See, among others, John Toland, The Rising Sun, Vol. 1 (New York: Random House, 1970), Chapter 6, “Operation Z,” for an analysis of this strategy, and of Admiral Yamamoto’s cautious pessimism regarding its eventual success, even as he enthusiastically planned the Pearl Harbor raid. MID 2667-D-1061. MID 2090–323 reports on Soviet survey personnel in Czechoslovakia in 1935 and plans to construct there facilities for 1000 aircraft. MID 2657–230. MID 2090–390, Collier, The Lion and the Eagle, p. 313, also states that the Russians gave up 50,000 lives to “get bases on Finnish as well as Estonian soil,” implying that such access was a primary rationale for the Winter War. MID 2657-I-281 reports on Soviet interwar bases in Mongolia and on alleged virtual control of that country by the Soviet military. See Harkavy, Arms Trade, Chapter 4, for discussion of Soviet arms sales policies and patterns during the interwar period. The Soviets had some access to shipyards in China as well as to airfields in Czechoslovakia, in both cases concurrent with arms sales to those countries.

6 Bases during the Cold War: the bipolar base race 1 Hans Weigert, “U.S. Strategic Bases and Collective Security,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 25, No. 2 (January 1947), pp. 250–262. See also, George Weller, Bases Overseas (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1944). 2 R.E. Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases: The Geopolitics of Access Diplomacy (New York: Pergamon, 1982), Chapter 4. 3 Ibid. 4 For a review of this breakdown, see Geoffrey Kemp and Robert E. Harkavy, Strategic Geography and the Changing Middle East (Washington, DC: Brookings, 1987), Chapter 7. 5 Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, op. cit., pp. 128, 149. 6 Information on U.S. basing during the Gulf War is in Department of Defense, Conflict of the Persian Gulf War, Final Report to Congress, Pursuant to Title V of the Persian Gulf Conflict, Supplemental Authorization and Personnel Benefits Act of 1991 (Public Law 102–05), Washington, DC, April 1992. 7 R.E. Harkavy, Bases Abroad: The Global Foreign Military Presence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 137. 8 Ibid., pp. 15, 75, 87. 9 Ibid., pp. 79, 85. 10 Ibid., pp. 75, 79. 11 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 43–50.

266 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

43

Notes

This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 80–88. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 95–100. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 250–272. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 255–262. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 262–263. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 156–158. Paul Kennedy, “Imperial cable communications and strategy, 1870–1914,” The English Historical Review, Vol. 86, No. 141 (1971), pp. 728–752 (748). Ibid., p. 749. See also J.M. Caroll, Secrets of Electronic Espionage (E.P. Dutton: New York, 1966), pp. 19–21, who cites the German chain of global radio stations keyed on a transmitter near Berlin and involving overseas stations at Kamina, Togo and Windhoek, Southwest Africa. Kennedy (note 15), p. 751. This discussed in Harkavy, Great Power Competition for Overseas Bases, pp. 68–69. Harkavy ibid., p. 77. Ibid., p. 27. J. Bamford The Puzzle Palace (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1982), pp. 32–33, discusses some of pre-World War II SIGINT activities, involving facilities in Panama and the Philippines as well as along both U.S. coasts. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 158–174. See also, for the pluses and minuses of various frequency ranges, D. Ford, The Button (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985), especially pp. 152–157. Will Arkin and R. W. Fieldhouse, Nuclear Battlefields: Global Links in the Arms Race (Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1985), p. 28. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Bruce Blair, Strategic Command and Control (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1985), pp. 103–104, 265 and 278. See Ford, op. cit., p. 155; and Blair, op. cit., pp. 198–199. Ford, op. cit., pp. 225–227; Arkin and Fieldhouse (note 1), pp. 31–32; Blair (note 1), especially pp. 254–255; and E. Ulsamer “C3I survivability in the budget wars” Air Force Magazine, June 1983, pp. 39–40. Arkin and Fieldhouse (note 1), p. 33; and Blair (note 1), p. 279. That in Liberia is noted in “U.S. ties with Liberia put under new strain,” New York Times, May 16, 1987, p. 2 Jane’s Military Communications, 1982 (note 66), p. 589. J.T. Richelson and D. Ball, The Ties that Bind (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1985), p. 201. P.B. Stares, Space and National Security (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1987), p. 188. Defense Communications Agency, “Defense Communications Systems/European Communications Systems: Interoperability Baseline,” Washington, DC, February 1981, unclassified paper, p. S-1. Jane’s Military Communication, 1981 (note 66), p 579. SIPRI data. SIPRI data on Iceland. See, for instance, regarding negotiations over a VOA station in Greece, “Greek leader asserts the U.S. shows favoritism to Turkey,” New York Times, 9 March 1987, p. A11. Such broadcasts are also often jammed – see “Soviet ‘Voice’ jammers shift to ‘Liberty’,” New York Times, 2 June 1987, p. A12. Some are run on a more or less clandestine basis – see “The trail so far,” New York Times, 8 May 1987, p. A14, which discusses the plan for a broadcasting station in an unnamed Caribbean station intended to beam programmes into Cuba. This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 174–184.

Notes

267

44 The typology is drawn from J.T. Richelson, The U.S. Intelligence Community, (Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1985), chapters 7 and 8; and Richelson, “Technical Collection and Arms Control,” in W. Potter, ed., Verification and Arms Control (Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath, 1985), pp. 169–216. 45 Richelson and Potter (note 28), p. 185; Richelson and Ball (note 1), pp. 184–185. 46 Richelson in Potter (note 28), p. 185; Richelson in Ball (note 1), pp. 184–185; and Richelson, The U.S. Intelligence Community (note 1), pp. 126–127. 47 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 184–185. 48 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 185–187. 49 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 187–188. 50 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 189–192. 51 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 192–196. 52 Richelson and Ball, pp. 200–202. 53 Richelson and Ball, p. 200. 54 Richelson and Ball, p. 200. See also W. Burrows, Deep Black (New York: Random House, 1985), p. 178 who states that the first SOSUS hydrophones laid on the continental shelf along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts of the USA in the 1950s and 1960s were code-named “Caesar.” 55 Richelson in Potter, op. cit., p. 189. See also Arkin and Fieldhouse, op. cit., pp. 72–73. 56 Harkavy, Bases Abroad, p. 193. 57 Burrows, op. cit., p. 179. 58 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 196–199. 59 Richelson in Potter, op. cit., pp. 195–196; and Burrows, op. cit., pp. 183–184. The latter notes three components of the programme: 1 Vela Uniform’s seismic detectors for underground and underwater explosions; 2 Vela Sierra’s riometers and other equipment to detect atmospheric and spacerelated detonations; and 3 Vela Hotel’s pairs of satellites to detect nuclear explosions in space or on the earth’s surface. 60 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 50–56. 61 Ford, op. cit., p. 224; Stares, op. cit., pp. 193–194; and Blair, op. cit., pp. 204–205. 62 “Satellite Delays May Erode U.S. Warning System,” Washington Post, May 12, 1986, p. A16. 63 Ford (note 1), p. 224. 64 Jane’s Military Communications, 1981, op. cit., p. 589. 65 “Satellite Delays May Erode U.S. Warning System,” Washington Post, May 12, 1986, p. A16. 66 See “Military role widened by an aggressive G.E.,” New York Times, 27 March 1985, p. D9; and “4th space shuttle starts secret mission,” New York Times, 4 October 1985, p. B5, which reports on the space shuttle Atlantic carrying two DSCS III satellites. 67 Arkin and Fieldhouse, op. cit., p. 79. Further regarding GWEN, see Ford, op. cit., pp. 225–226. 68 Arkin and Fieldhouse, op. cit., p. 79. Further regarding GWEN, see Ford, op. cit., pp. 225–226. 69 “Pentagon plans for WW IV,” Centre Daily Times, February 22, 1987, p. B7. See also Arkin and Fieldhouse, op. cit., p. 80; and “U.S. prepares for protracted nuclear war,” International Herald Tribune, July 29, 1986, p. 1, in which Milstar is described as “the first communications satellite able to support a multiple-exchange campaign, in which adversaries would fire nuclear weapons in salvos.” 70 This material is drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 88–95. 71 “Our spy on high” New York Times Magazine, May 10, 1987, pp. 30–34. 72 Ibid., p. 32. See also Richelson in Porter, op. cit., p. 177.

268

Notes

73 Burrows, pp. 153–169. See also “Second SR-71 deployed to England,” Aviation Week & Space Technology, January 31, 1983, p. 59; and “Spy planes sent to Britain,” Daily Telegraph, March 13, 1979. 74 “Civilians use satellite photos for spying on Soviet military,” New York Times, April 7, 1986, p. A1; Burrows, pp. 324–327. U.S. provision of data to China from the Landsat D satellite is mentioned in “US looks to China for aid to Pakistan,” New York Times, January 3, 1980, p. 9. See also “U.S. designs spy satellites to be more secret than ever, New York Times, November 3, 1987, p. C1.” 75 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 114–116. 76 SIPRI data International Institute for Strategic Studies, which gives the following numbers of Lance missiles in W. Europe, Belgium 5, Britain 12, FR Germany 26, Italy 6, Netherlands 6, for a total of 55 in addition to 36 U.S. launchers. See also, T.B. Cochran, W.M. Arkin and M.M. Hoenig, Nuclear Weapons Databook, Vol. 1: U.S. Nuclear Forces and Capabilities (Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1984), pp. 285–286. 77 Harkavy, Bases Abroad, p. 115. 78 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 199–208. 79 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 136–140. 80 This material drawn from Harkavy, Bases Abroad, pp. 58–59 and 93–95. 7 After the Cold War: basing in a unipolar system 1 Some of the material in this section is drawn from R.E. Harkavy, “Thinking About Basing,” in Carnes Lord, ed., Reposturing the Force: U.S. Overseas Presence in the Twenty-First Century (Newport: Naval War College Press, 2006), Newport Paper No. 26. All of the remaining contributions to this volume are pertinent to the post-Cold War U.S. basing posture. 2 International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS), The Military Balance, 2006 (London, 2006), pp. 162–163. 3 “A Georgian Victory as Russia will quit 2 Bases,” International Herald Tribune, May 31, 2005, p. 3. 4 “U.S. tries to shore up Kyrghizstan base deal,” International Herald Tribune, July 26, 2005, p. 3; and “Rice Reaches Pact on Keeping Central Asia Base,” New York Times, October 12, 2005, p. A8; “2 Countries Extend U.S. Use of Bases,” International Herald Tribune, July 27, 2005, p. 3. 5 Philip Bowring, “China’s growing might and the spirit of Zheng He,” International Herald Tribune, August 2, 2005, p. 7. 6 “Crouching Tiger, Swimming Dragon,” New York Times, April 11, 2005, p. A23. 7 “Chinese Navy Buildup Gives Pentagon New Worries,” New York Times, April 8, 2005, p. A3; “A New Global Energy Game,” Washington Post National Weekly Edition, July 25–31, 2005, p. 20. 8 IISS, The Military Balance, op. cit., pp. 110–111. 9 Ibid., pp. 72–74. 10 The extent of the U.S. basing network near the end of the Cold War in the 1980s can be gleaned from R.E. Harkavy, Bases Abroad (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989). 11 “U.S. weighs cutback in forces in Germany,” International Harold Tribune, June 4, 2004, p. 1. 12 For information on basing in the 1990–1991 Gulf War, Department of Defense, Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, Final Report to Congress, Pursuant to Title V of the Persian Gulf Conflict Supplement Authorization and Personnel Benefits Act of 1991 (Public Law 102–25), Washington, DC, April 1992. 13 Harkavy, “Thinking About Basing,” pp. 10–11. 14 H. Levins, “B-2 Bombers Will Stay Near Afghanistan Pentagon Source Says,” St. Louis Post Dispatch, October 8, 2001, p. A12.

Notes

269

15 Vernon Loeb, “Fill’er Up: In the Nation’s First ‘Tanker War’ Every Mission Needs Midair Refueling.” Washington Post, April 21, 2002, p. F-1. 16 “Enduring Freedom: U.S. Facilities,” www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/ afghanistan.htm, as of January 1, 2005; and www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/ centcom-map2.htm, as of January 1, 2005. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Stephen Blank, “Central Asia’s great base race,” Asia Times, December 19, 2003. 20 CENTCOM facilities, www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/centcom-map1_2002. htm. Locations as of December 31, 2002. 21 Department of Defense, Office of the Undersecretary for Policy, “Strengthening U.S. Global Defense Posture,” September 2004, Report to Congress, p. 10. See also, “The U.S. Global Posture Review,” Strategic Comments (London: IISS), Vol. 10, Issue 7, September 2004; Andrew Krepinevich, “The New Pax Americana,” Defense News, 20 September, 2004; and “Prepared Testimony of U.S. Secretary of Defense, Donald H. Rumsfeld before the Senate Armed Services Committee,” Global Posture, September 23, 2004.” “Small but Mightier: The Military is planning a far-flung base network with rapid-strike capability,” Washington Post National Weekly Edition, June 16–22, 2003, p. 29. 22 DOD, “Strengthening U.S. Global Defense Posture,” p. 10. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 “U.S. Engages Africa in Terror Fight,” The Christian Science Monitor, September 17, 2004, p. 6. 26 Robert E. Harkavy, “Images of the Coming International System,” Orbis, Vol. 41, 4 (Fall 1997), pp. 569–590. 27 The data in the following paragraphs are drawn from The DISAM Journal, Spring 2004, pp. 1–59. 28 “U.S. engages Africa in terror fight,” The Christian Science Monitor, September 17, 2004, p. 6. 29 DOD, “Strengthening U.S. Global Defense Posture,” op. cit., p. 10. 30 J. David Singer and Melvin Small, The Wages of War, 1816–1965 (New York: Wiley, 1972). 31 For some typologies, see Ernest Evans, Wars Without Splendor: The U.S. Military and Low Level Conflict (New York: Greenwood Press, 1987); and Richard Shultz, “The Low Intensity Conflict Environment of the 1990s,” The Annals, AAPSS 517, September 1991, pp. 127–132. 32 Sam Sarkesian, The New Battlefield (New York: Greenwood Press, 1986), p. 110. 33 Robert E. Harkavy, “Arms Resupply During Conflict: Framework for Analysis,” The Jerusalem Journal of International Relations, 7, 3 (1985), pp. 5–41. 34 Barry M. Blechman and Stephen S. Kaplan, Force without War (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1978); and Stephen S. Kaplan, Diplomacy of Power (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1971). 35 James Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy: Political Applications of Limited Naval Force (New York: Praeger, 1971). 36 See, for instance, “To Supply China, African Mines Want More Trains,” New York Times, December 21, 2004, p. W1. 37 “Canada’s Oil: China in Line as U.S. Rival,” New York Times, December 23, 2004, p. A1. 38 Vernon Loeb, “Fill’er Up: In the Nation’s First ‘Tanker War’ Every Mission Needs Midair Refueling,” Washington Post, April 21, 2002, p. F1. 39 Susan Glassner and Vernon Loeb, “225,000 U.S. and British Troops Are Now Within Striking Distance,” Washington Post, March 2, 2003, p. A1. 40 Vernon Loeb, “Fill’er Up: In the Nation’s First “Tanker War” Every Mission Needs Midair Refueling,” Washington Post, April 21, 2002, p. F-1.

270

Notes

41 Ibid. 42 Vernon Loeb, “Intense, Coordinated Air War Backs Baghdad Campaign,” Washington Post, April 6, 2003, p. A24. 43 Admiral Vern Clark, “Sea Power 21,” Proceedings, U.S. Naval Institute, October 2002; and, among numerous writings, Lt. Cmdr. John T. Klein and Major Rich Morales, “Sea Basing Isn’t Just About the Sea,” The Proceedings, U.S. Naval Institute, Vol. 130, January 2004, pp. 32–35. 44 The Congress of the United States, Congressional Budget Office (CBO), “The Future of the Navy’s Amphibious and Maritime Prepositioning Forces,” November 2004, p. IX. 45 Data for subsequent three paragraphs taken from ibid. pp. ix–xii. 46 Ibid., p. ix. 47 Ibid., p. xiii. 48 Ibid., p. 12. 49 Congress of the United States, Congressional Budget Office (CB0), “Options for Changing the Army’s Overseas Basing,” Washington, DC, May 2004. 50 Ibid., p. XII, which specifically mentions Nigeria and Azerbaijan as possible future sites of conflict. 51 Robert E. Harkavy, “Triangular or Indirect Deterrence/Compellence,” Comparative Strategy, Vol. 17, 1 (Jan.–Mar. 1998), pp. 63–81. 52 A good discussion of these issues is in Setsuo Takeda, U.S. Missile Defense and East Asian Security: A Policy Analysis, forthcoming book, now unpublished manuscript.

Index

access: generic routes to 173–4; proliferation of types of 16–17; Soviet Union 147–8; U.S. loss of 151–5; U.S. requirements for 160–4 ACE HIGH system 118, 119 acquisition, bases 17–19 Afghanistan: bases in 135, 137, 140, 237, 241; U.S. invasion of 156, 167 AFSATCOM system 115, 116, 117 air force bases: overview 26; Soviet Union 134–6; U.S. 102–3, 167–8 air-based intelligence 165 air-cushion landing craft 170 Airborne Warning and Control Systems (AWACS) 103, 165 aircraft carriers 110–11 aircraft overflights 103–5 airspace: use of 151–2, 164–5; violation of 104 Albania, bases in 86, 187, 231, 240 Algeria, bases in 180, 182, 187 alliance structures 18–19; U.S. 95–6, 156–8, 160–1 amphibious ships 168–9 Anderson, R.C. 59–60, 62–3 Angola, bases in 131, 132, 176, 178 Angolan War (1975) 3 anti-missile defenses 171–3 anti-submarine warfare 127–8 Antigua, bases in 211, 226 Arab–Israeli War (1973) 3 Argentina, bases in 180, 192, 220 Armenia, bases in 239 arms resupply function 14–15, 103, 164–5 asymmetric: multipolarity 157; power 21–2 Athens, basing access 2 Australia, bases in 76, 192, 211, 220, 233, 241 Austrian Succession, War of 66, 205–6 AUTOSEVOCOM system 117–18 Azerbaijan, bases in 239 Azores, bases in 178, 224, 234, 240 Bahamas, bases in 192, 226

Bahrain, bases in 211, 237 Baker-Nunn optical cameras 123 ballistic missile defense (BMD) 171–3 ballistic missiles, medium-range 96–7 Baltic, naval warfare in (1522–1850) 59–70, 200–10 Barbados, bases in 192, 233 bases: acquisition/retention of 17–19; France 182–5, 232; Genoa 199; Germany 236; Great Britain 192–8, 233–5; Italy 231; Japan 229; Mongol Empire 186; Netherlands 176–7, 230; Ottoman Empire 187–8; Portugal 178–9; proliferation of types of 16–17; shifts in function 14–15; Soviet Union 228; Spain 179–81; U.S. 211–27, 237–42; Venice 189–91 basing structure: France 55–9; Great Britain 51–5; Netherlands 49–51; Portugal 44–7; serial hegemons 16–17; Soviet Union 147–8; Spain 47–9; U.S. 129–34 basing systems/strategies, interwar period: France 78–80, 232; Germany 87–9, 236; Great Britain 73–8, 233–5; Italy 86–7, 231; Japan 89–91, 229; Netherlands 80, 230; overview 72–3; Soviet Union 91–2, 228; U.S. 80–5, 96–8, 226–7 basing: networks 26–7, 87–9, 91–2; patterns during Cold War 145–6; requirements 25–6 Belgium, bases in 189, 211 Bermuda, bases in 220 bipolar base race: aircraft overflights 103–5; anti-submarine warfare 127–8; basing patterns 145–6; British/French basing 141–5; functions of U.S. basing system 96–8; intelligence 119–21; nuclear detection 128–9; nuclear-related bases 105–8; ocean surface surveillance 121–2; overseas “technical” facilities 112–13; overview 19–23, 94–6; satellite control stations 124–5; Soviet air bases 134–6; Soviet ground force bases 136–7; Soviet naval basing structure 129–34; Soviet forward-based missiles 141; Soviet

272

Index

bipolar base race continued forward-based nuclear-capable aircraft 111–12; Soviet technical facilities abroad 137–41; space surveillance 122–3; strategic early warning 125–7; strategic nuclear forces 108–11; U.S. Air Force bases 102–3; U.S. communications 113–19; U.S. Navy surface fleet bases 98–102 Blechman, Barry 165 Bosnia crisis 152 Boxer, C.R. 6 Brazil, bases in 176, 182, 211, 226 broadcast communications 118–19 Brunei, bases in 192 Bulgaria, bases in 228 Burma, bases in 192 CADIN Pinetree lines 126–7 Cambodia, bases in 132 Cambrai, League of 38 Canada, bases in 182, 192–3, 211, 220, 226, 233 Cape Verde, bases in 176, 178 caravels 45 case study, intra-European basing (1522–1850) 59–70 catastrophic conflicts 162–4, 171 Chad, bases in 241 Chile, bases in 180 China: bases in 54, 90, 176, 178, 186, 193, 221, 228, 229, 232, 233; Ming dynasty 11, 24, 29–31; as rising superpower 147–9; trade routes to 33 client states 3, 18 coaling stations 54–5, 56 coercive diplomacy function 14–15, 165 Cold War: functions of bases 17; naval bases 24; Soviet naval basing structure 129–34; U.S. bases 211–25; see also unipolar base race colonial control 17–19 COMINT 107–8 “command of the sea” 26–7 commercial: competition 33–4, 36; function 15, 16, 48, 61 communications 112–13; Great Britain 74; Soviet Union 138–9; U.S. 107, 113–19 competition for basing 26–8, 32–43; phases of 94–5 conceptual issues 9–11 conflict: arms resupply during 164–5; typology of 160–4 Congo, bases in 133 conquest, bases acquired by 17–19 Constantinople, bases in 35, 36, 37 contingency rights 84–5 CONUS 152, 167–8, 170, 171–2, 174 conventional power projection function 14–15

conventional warfare 161, 162–4 Cooperative Security Locations (CSLs) 155–6 Correlates of War project (COW) 20, 161 Cuba, bases in 131, 133, 139–40, 180, 211, 221 Cuban missile crisis 107 Cyprus, bases in 76, 187, 189, 193, 199, 211, 221, 233 Czechoslovakia, bases in 135, 136, 228 Danish–Dutch War against Sweden–England 63–4, 201–2 data 6–9 definitions 5–6, 19–23 Denmark, bases in 193, 200, 201, 202–3, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 211, 221 Desert Shield/Desert Storm 151–2, 160 DF systems 122 disruptive scenarios 162–4 Distant Early Warning (DEW) 126–7 Djibouti, bases in 211, 232, 241 domestic policies, host countries 156–8 Dominican Republic, bases in 84, 180, 226 DSP satellite systems 4, 124, 125–6 Dutch Guyana, bases in 226 Economic Support Fund (U.S.) 158–60 Ecuador, bases in 180, 211, 226 Egypt–Israel Camp David accords 159 Egypt, bases in 182, 187, 189, 193, 211, 233, 237, 240 electronic communications 113–19 Eritrea, bases in 231 Estonia, bases in 200, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 228 Ethiopia, bases in 131, 132, 211, 231 Ethiopian War (1935) 87 Europe: anti-missile systems 172; U.S. bases in 98, 102, 109–10, 153 expeditionary strike group, U.S. 169 Fairgrieve, James 29 feitoria (factories) 6, 45, 49 Fiji, bases in 193, 211, 233 Finland, bases in 200, 204, 207, 209 FLTSATCOM system 117 Fluit, The 51 Foreign Military Financing Program, U.S. 158–60 Formosa, bases in 90 fortified ports 41–2 Forward Operating Sites (FOSs) 155–6 France: acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 182–5, 232; bases in 182, 187, 193–4, 210, 212, 232; basing in unipolar system 149–50; Cold War basing 142, 143–4; interwar basing system 78–80, 232; as long-cycle hegemon 14; maritime power of 28; post-Cold War basing

Index

273

structure 149–50; seaborne empire/basing structure 55–9 Frederickshamn, Treaty of 69 French Guyana, bases in 182 French Indochina, bases in 90–1 French Samoa, bases in 182 functions of bases, shifts in 14–15

historical-developmental issues 9–11 Honduras, bases in 213, 221, 240, 242 Hong Kong, bases in 76 “Horn War” (1977–78) 3 host countries, domestic policies of 156–8 Hungary, bases in 135, 137, 236, 240 hybrid powers 22–3

galley warfare 2, 32–43 Gambia, bases in 194 Genoa: (1200–1600) 32–43; acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 199 GEODSS systems 123 geopolitical theory 19–23 Georgia, bases in 239 Germany: bases 236; bases in 134–5, 143, 194, 200–1, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 212, 240, 241, 242; interwar basing network 87–9, 236; as long-cycle hegemon 13; ship production 14 Ghana, bases in 176, 178 “Giant Talk/Scope Signal III” stations 115, 117 global networks 25–6 global presence, future of 167 global reach 11–14 Graham, Gerald 6 Gray, Colin 21–2 Great Britain: acquisition/retention of bases 18, 19; bases 192–8, 233–5; bases in 105, 189, 197, 207, 208, 210, 215, 218–19, 225, 227, 235, 240–1, 242; basing in unipolar system 149–50; Cold War basing 142, 143, 144–5; functions of bases 16, 17; interwar basing system 73–8, 233–5; as long-cycle hegemon 12–13; maritime power of 27–8; naval bases 3; post-Cold War basing structure 149–50; seaborne empire/basing structure 51–5; ship production 14; technical facilities 112, 113, 144 Great Northern War (1680–1721) 64–6, 203–5 great power status, definition of 19–23 Greece, bases in 35, 133, 187, 189–90, 191, 194, 199, 207, 212–13, 221, 231, 233, 236 Greenland, bases in 83, 213, 221, 226, 240 Grenada, bases in 182 Guam, bases in 240 Guinea-Bissau, bases in 236 Guinea, bases in 131, 182 Gulf War (1990–1991) 3, 96, 104–5, 151–2, 167 Guyana, bases in 213, 226

Iceland, bases in 202, 213, 221, 240 “imperial pick-off” 27–8, 53, 57, 77–8 imperial: control 6, 15, 17–19; decline 73–4 India: bases in 176, 178, 182–3, 194–5, 233; trade routes to 33 Indonesia, bases in 50, 176–7, 178, 180, 183, 195, 230, 234 intelligence 5, 97, 104, 107, 112–13, 119–21, 139–41 International Military Education and Training (IMET) Program, U.S. 158–60 international relations theory 19 international system: changes in 156–8; future of 173 international systems analysis 20 international systems theory 8 interwar basing systems/strategies: France 78–80, 232; functions of bases 17; Germany 87–9, 236; Great Britain 73–8, 233–5; Italy 86–7, 231; Japan 89–91, 229; Netherlands 80, 230; overview 72–3; Soviet Union 91–2, 228; U.S. 80–5, 226–7 intra-European basing: (1522–1850) 59–70, 200–10; acquisition/retention of bases 19 Iran, bases in 195, 213 Iraq: bases in 132, 187, 234; SCUD attacks (1991) 172; U.S. invasion of 156 Ireland, bases in 180, 183, 195 Israel, bases in 190, 195, 199, 213, 234 Italy: bases 231; bases in 177, 180, 183, 187, 190, 195, 199, 207, 208, 209, 213, 221, 240, 241; interwar basing system 86–7, 231; see also Genoa; Venice

Haiti, bases in 84, 182, 226 Havana, bases in 48 hegemonic: seapower regimes 22–3; transitions 27–8 historical bases 5–6

Jamaica, bases in 180, 195, 226, 234 Japan: bases 229; bases in 177, 178, 213–14, 221–2, 240, 241, 242; interwar basing system 89–91, 229; as long-cycle hegemon 13 Joint Direct Attack Munitions (JDAMs) 167 Jordan, bases in 234 Kalmar War 63, 200–1 Kaplan, Stephen 165 Kazakhstan, bases in 239 Kellogg–Briand Pact 75 Kennan, George 6 Kennedy, Paul 6 Kenya, bases in 195, 214, 241 Kiribati, bases in 214 Kissinger, Henry 22 Korean War 160

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Kosovo crisis (1999) 152, 167 Kuwait, bases in 214, 237, 242 Kyrgyzstan, bases in 237, 239, 241 land empires 29–31 landpower–seapower rivalry 21–2 Lane, Fredrick 6 Latvia, bases in 200, 201, 228 launchers 108–11 League of Nations 75, 79, 89–90, 113 Lebanon, bases in 187, 190, 199, 232 Lend-Lease Act (1940) 82, 83, 113, 160 Levy, Jack 20–1, 23, 49 Liberia, bases in 85, 214, 222, 226–7 Libya, bases in 86–7, 133, 183, 187, 214, 231, 232, 236 literature 6–7 Lithuania, bases in 228 long-cycle hegemons 11–14 long-cycle theory 7–8, 20, 32 long-range CONUS-basing 167–8, 174 LORAN radio-navigation systems 115, 116 Louisiana Treaty 58 low-intensity conflicts 161, 162–4 Madagascar, bases in 133, 195, 232 Madeira, bases in 178 Mahan, Alfred T. 21–2, 34–5, 41, 52, 141 Main Operating Bases (MOBs) 155–6 Malaysia, bases in 234 Maldives, bases in 195 Mali, bases in 183, 232, 241 Malta, bases in 76, 180, 195, 199, 234 Manchuria 90 maritime: power 26–8; rivalry 33–4 Marshall Islands, bases in 91, 214 Masan, Korea 29–30 Mauritania, bases in 178, 241 Mauritius, bases in 183, 195, 234 Mediterranean basing: (1200–1600) 32–43; access competition 24–5 Mexico, bases in 84, 180, 227 Micronesia, bases in 222 MIDAS satellite program 106 Ming China 11, 29–31 missile defense basing 171–3 missile-gap scare 106–7 Modelski, George 20, 21, 44, 49 Monaco, bases in 190 Mongol Empire 11, 29–31; acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 186 Mongolia, bases in 137, 228 Monroe Doctrine 81 Morocco, bases in 178, 180, 195–6, 223, 232 Mozambique, bases in 132, 178–9, 214 multipolar systems 60–1, 157–8 “naos” 45, 48 Napoleonic Wars (1791–1815) 68, 207–9

naval basing: Mongols/Ming China 29–31; structure, Soviet Union 129–34 naval propulsion 25–6 naval surface fleet bases, U.S. 98–102 naval warfare, Baltic (1522–1850) 59–70, 200–10 Naval Wars in the Baltic 1522–1850 59–60, 62–3 NAVSTAR global positioning systems 115 Netherlands: acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 176–7, 230; bases in 196, 201, 208, 210, 214, 230; functions of bases 16; interwar basing system 80, 230; as longcycle hegemon 12; maritime power of 27–8; seaborne empire/basing structure 49–51 networks 23–7, 87–9, 91–2 New Zealand, bases in 196, 234 Newfoundland, bases in 83 Nicaragua, bases in 180, 215 Niger, bases in 241 Nigeria, bases in 196, 234 NORAD 125–6 North Korea: bases in 132; missile tests 172 Northern Seven Years War (1563–1570) 200 Norway, bases in 177, 200, 202, 203, 204, 208, 209, 210, 215, 223 nuclear capable aircraft 111–12 nuclear detection 128–9 nuclear deterrence function 14–15, 97 nuclear forces 108–11 nuclear-related bases 3–4, 105–8, 151–5 ocean surface surveillance 121–2 Oman, bases in 179, 215, 223, 237, 240 Omega VLF facilities 115 Operation Enduring Freedom 152–3 Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) 153–4 Ottoman Empire: (1200–1600) 11, 32–43; acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 187–8 overflights 103–5 P3C Orion 122 Padfield, Paul 22, 45 Pakistan, bases in 215, 223, 237–8 Panama Canal 77, 80, 81, 83, 84 Panama, bases in 180–1, 215, 223, 227 Papua New Guinea, bases in 215 Paris, Treaty of 59 peacekeeping 166 Peloponnesian Wars 2 permanent bases 16–17 Peru, bases in 131, 133, 181 Philippines, bases in 181, 215, 223, 227 pirates/privateers 15 platforms 108–11 Poland: anti-missile systems 172; bases in 135, 136–7, 200, 201, 202, 203, 205, 208, 210

Index polarity 19–23 Polish Succession, War of 66, 205–6 port visits 165–6 Portugal: acquisition/retention of bases 18, 19; bases 178–9; bases in 177, 178, 181, 183, 190, 196, 203, 207, 215, 223, 224, 227, 234, 240; functions of bases 16; as long-cycle hegemon 11–12; maritime power of 27; seaborne empire/basing structure 44–7; ship production 14 power projection: offshore ship production as 14; slow speed of 35–6 power, comparisons of 19–23 presence 14–15, 165–6, 167 Puerto Rico, bases in 181, 223 Qatar, bases in 238, 242 regional reach 11–14 retention, bases 17–19 Reunion, bases in 223 rimland basing structure 154 rival basing networks 26–7 Romania, bases in 133, 190 Russia see Soviet Union Russo-Swedish Wars 200–1 Saigon, bases in 78 sail, age of 29–31; see also France; Great Britain; intra-European basing; Netherlands; Portugal; Spain sailing vessels: British empire/basing structure 51–5; Dutch empire/basing structure 49–51; French empire/basing structure 55–9; intra-European basing/warfare in Baltic 59–70; overview 44–7; Spanish empire/basing structure 47–9 St. Lucia 227 SALT I Treaty 106–7 SALT II Treaty 137 Samoa, bases in 234 Sao Tome, bases in 179 satellite control facilities: Soviet Union 138–9; U.S. 124–5 SATRAN systems 122–3 Saudi Arabia, bases in 187, 215, 238, 242 sea basing 168–71, 174 seaborne empire: France 55–9; Great Britain 51–5; Netherlands 49–51; Portugal 44–7; Spain 47–9 sealift ships 170 seapower–landpower rivalry 21–2 security assistance, U.S. 158–60 security provision, U.S. 156–8 Senegal, bases in 183, 215, 232, 240, 241 serial basing networks 23–5 serial hegemons 8–9, 21; basing structures of 16–17 Seven Years’ War 53, 66–7, 206–7

275

Seychelles, bases in 183, 216 ship production 16, 30, 46–7; as power projection 14 “showing the flag” see presence Sierra Leone, bases in 234 SIGINT system 107, 120–1, 122–3, 139–40 Singapore, bases in 75–6, 216, 234, 240 Skane War 64, 202–3 Somalia, bases in 216 SOSUS system 4, 127–8 South Africa, bases in 177, 183, 196, 216, 234 South Korea, bases in 186, 216–17, 224, 229 sovereignty 5 Soviet Union: acquisition/retention of bases 18; air bases 134–6; bases 228; bases in 177, 199, 203, 204, 205; and client states 3, 18; collapse of 148–9; forward-based missiles 141; forward-based nuclearcapable aircraft 111–12; ground force bases 136–7; interwar basing network 91–2, 228; as long-cycle hegemon 13, 14; maritime power of 28; naval basing structure 129–34; post-Cold War bases 239; strategic nuclear forces 108; technical facilities abroad 137–41 space: surveillance 122–3, 138–9; technical facilities 112–13 Spain (1200–1600) 32–43; acquisition/retention of bases 18, 19; bases 179–81; bases in 177, 181, 183, 187, 190, 196, 206, 207, 217, 224, 231, 236; as longcycle hegemon 12; maritime power of 27; seaborne empire/basing structure 47–9; ship production 14 Spanish Civil War 88 Sparta, basing access 2 Sri Lanka, bases in 177, 183, 196 STADAN network 123 Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) 5, 7, 17 submarines: operating bases, U.S. 99–101; Polaris 106–7; Soviet Union 130–1 Sudan, bases in 234 Suez Canal 86, 152 Sunnyvale satellite control facility, U.S. 124–5 surface fleet bases, U.S. 98–102 Surinam, bases in 177, 196, 230 surveillance: ocean surface 121–2, 140–1; space 122–3, 139 Sweden, bases in 177, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210 Swedish–Danish War (1643–1645) 63, 201 Swedish–Russian War (1788–1790) 67–8, 207 Syria, bases in 232 system leader lineage 23–5, 31 system structure 19–23 Taiwan, bases in 177, 217, 224, 229

276

Index

Tajikistan, bases in 239 Tanzania, bases in 132, 179, 197 technical facilities 112–13; Great Britain 144; overview 3–4, 26; Soviet Union 137–41; U.S. 83, 112–13 technological: change 25–6; innovation 23 Test Ban Treaties (1963/1974) 128–9 Thailand, bases in 177, 217, 229, 241 Thirty Years’ War 63, 200–1 Thompson, William 20, 21, 23, 31, 44, 45, 49 threat environment 173 threat scenarios 160–4 Tobago, bases in 217, 224 Tomahawk missiles 152, 165 Tonga, bases in 197, 235 traditional conflicts 161, 162–4 Trinidad, bases in 197, 217, 224, 227, 235 tripolar systems 19–23 Tunisia, bases in 181, 183, 187–8, 190, 199, 232 Turkey, bases in 153–4, 188, 190, 199, 217–18, 224–5, 238, 241 typology: basing 155–6; conflict 160–4; of power 22–3 Uganda, bases in 241 Ukraine, bases in 191, 199 unipolar system: air-based intelligence 165; arms resupply during conflict 164–5; basis of basing 156; British/French basing structure 149–50; China as rising superstar 147–9; coercive diplomacy 165; collapse of Soviet Union 147–8; future of global presence 167; future scenarios 160–4; long-range CONUS-basing 167–8, 174; loss of access 151–5; missile defense basing 171–3; new U.S. typology of basing 155–6; overview 19–23; peacekeeping 166; presence 165–6, 167; sea basing 168–71, 174; security assistance 158–60; security provision 156–8; U.S. empire 150 United Arab Emirates, bases in 238 U.S. National Archives 7 U.S.: in 21st century 156, 237–8, 242; acquisition/retention of bases 18; air force bases 102–3; air-based intelligence 165; aircraft overflights 103–5; anti-submarine warfare 127–8; arms resupply during conflict 164–5; bases 211–27, 237–42; bases in 177, 181, 183–4, 197, 227;

coercive diplomacy 165; Cold War basing system 96–8, 211–25; communications 113–19; future of global presence 167; future scenarios 160–4; intelligence 119–21, 165; interwar basing system 80–5, 226–7; as long-cycle hegemon 13–14; long-range CONUS-basing 167–8, 174; loss of access 151–5; maritime power of 28; missile defense basing 171–3; naval surface fleet bases 98–102; new typology of basing 155–6; nuclear detection 128–9; nuclear-related bases 105–8; ocean surface surveillance 121–2; peacekeeping 166; post-Cold War empire 150; presence 165–6, 167; satellite control stations 124–5; sea basing 168–71, 174; security assistance 158–60; security provision 156–8; ship production 14; space surveillance 122–3; strategic early warning 125–7; strategic nuclear forces 108–11; technical facilities 112–13 Utrecht, Treaty of (1714) 53, 58 Uzbekistan, bases in 238, 241 Vasa Succession, War of 63, 200–1 Venezuela, bases in 181, 219 Venice: (1200–1600) 32–43; acquisition/retention of bases 18; bases 189–91; functions of bases 16 Venice–Genoa Wars 37 Versailles, Treaty of 14 Vienna, Congress of (1815) 54 Vietnam War 160 Vietnam, bases in 132, 136, 184, 219–20, 229, 232 Voice of America (VOA) 119 Wallerstein, Immanuel 20, 21 warfare, Baltic (1522–1850) 59–70, 200–10 Washington Naval Agreement (1922) 89 West Indies, bases in 77, 79, 176, 177, 182, 184, 192, 225 White Cloud satellite system 122 “wintering of fleets” 62 World War II 83–5, 89 Yemen, bases in 132, 179, 188, 197, 235 Yugoslavia, bases in 133, 188, 191, 199 Zheng He 30, 45