This publication presents a historical perspective for informational 

and educational purposes, is the result of independent research, and 

does not necessarily reflect a position of NSA/CSS or any other U.S. 

government entity.

This publication is distributed FREE by the National Security Agency. 

If you would like additional copies, please submit your request to:

Center for Cryptologic History

National Security Agency

9800 Savage Road, Suite 6886

Fort George G. Meade, MD 20755-6886
Page 1

SILENT WARRIORS: The Naval Security Group Reserve, 1945-2005

Foreword

Throughout my naval service, which began as a Seaman more than forty years ago, secrecy has 

been the trait most prized among cryptologists. During the first half of my career, the fact that the 

Naval Security Group, active and reserve, performed intelligence missions for the fleet and the intelligence community was considered very hush-hush. Only in the last decade has the curtain been lifted 

sufficiently to allow the public a glimpse, however fleeting, into our secret world.

Much of what we do must remain classified by necessity: lives depend on it. Secrecy is part of the 

air we information warriors breathe and with good reason. However, the time has come to shed some 

light on the history of Naval Reserve cryptology and allow the public to learn who we are, what we do, 

where we have been, and where we are headed. It is unfortunate that the secrecy we live with every 

day has prevented our story from being better known to the public we serve.

This volume is intended to tell at least some of 

our exciting story. The author is a historian and 

cryptologic officer in the Naval Reserve, and his 

presentation, telling what can be told of our history, should appear familiar to those who have 

served with us. Shipmates of all ranks and backgrounds will find some of their story in this work. 

It is particularly fitting that this volume appears 

now, as we transform our command and begin 

another chapter of our story. We will succeed in 

preparing ourselves for the challenges of the new 

century by working hard, placing duty over self, 

and remembering our rich heritage.

Rear Admiral William D. Masters Jr., 

USNR (Ret.), former Deputy Commander, 

Naval Security Group Command

Page 3

This book recounts a unique and untold story, that of Naval Reserve (NR) cryptologists — the 

professional term for codebreakers and codemakers. This has always been a small and select community, one little known to outsiders, and even less understood. Cryptologists have long constituted 

the most secretive fraternity in America’s armed forces, and Naval Reservists permitted to enter the 

cryptologic ranks set sail on a journey that placed them apart from the rest of the Naval Reserve, and 

far apart from their civilian lives. For six decades, through the Cold War and into the age of terrorism, Naval Reserve cryptologists have stood the watch for the Navy and the nation. Yet the highly 

secretive nature of their work has rendered their service in defense of freedom almost unknown to 

the public.

This volume aims to fill this knowledge gap by telling their story. The Naval Security Group 

Reserve is an exclusive club with tight lips, and few of its exploits are discussed openly. This work 

cannot tell the full story — that will have to wait decades until archives are opened and top secret 

operations are declassified — yet it strives to illuminate what it can, and render an account of Naval 

Reserve cryptology and its sailors that will be accurate and accessible to all who served in silence.

A great many Naval Reserve shipmates helped with the production of this work, and without the 

contributions of Naval Security Group Reserve personnel, past and present, this volume would not 

have been possible. There simply are too many to list. 

That said, Rear Admiral William D. Masters Jr. and Captain Ronald E. Hecox deserve credit as 

the visionaries behind this project, whose assistance throughout ensured their vision became reality. 

Captain Daniel L. Schaefer, my skipper, supported this effort and helped me along the way at many 

points. I also wish to thank Captain (ret.) Raymond P. Schmidt, a gentleman and fine historian whose 

remarkable knowledge of matters naval and cryptologic guided me through rocky shoals many times. 

Finally, I wish to acknowledge those people whose current duties prohibit them from being thanked 

publicly.

John R. Schindler, Ph.D. LTJG USNR

Introduction

Page 5

The Naval Security Group Reserve (NSGR) of 

today has a long and storied history that dates to 

the early years of organized codebreaking in the 

U.S. Navy. Although naval personnel had worked 

with codes and ciphers in the nineteenth century, 

the formal beginning of cryptologic work was the 

establishment of the Research Desk of the Code 

and Signal Section of the Department of Naval 

Communications in Washington, DC. This small, 

select organization — in its early years, all members could sit around a small table — was founded by the legendary Lieutenant (later Captain) 

Laurance F. Safford, and was soon redesignated 

OP-20-G. Safford’s hand-picked team compensated for limited resources with talent and hard 

work, and before long OP-20-G was successfully 

exploiting the ciphers of the most likely adversary, 

the Imperial Japanese Navy. The pioneering codebreaking efforts of Safford’s elite cadre in the 1920s, 

including the contributions of a gifted young officer 

named Joseph J. Rochefort, laid the cornerstone 

of the U.S. Navy’s epic cryptologic feats during the 

Second World War.

In the interwar period, the Naval Reserve likewise was barely out of its infancy. Although the 

United States had possessed second-line maritime 

forces throughout much of its history, including 

the naval militias of many states, the United States 

Naval Reserve (USNR) dates only to 3 March 

1915, with the establishment of what was termed 

the Naval Reserve Force (NRF). The new force 

absorbed the state navies and was intended to 

bolster the fleet in time of war; however, limited 

budgets and America’s entry into World War One 

only months after the NRF was created relegated 

it to very secondary status compared to the Navy’s 

active forces. The small NRF was absorbed by the 

Navy in spring 1917, and many members made 

important contributions during the war (including Ensign Charles H. Hammann, USNRF, of 

Baltimore, Maryland, the only naval aviator to win 

the Medal of Honor in World War One), but the 

force had yet to prove itself, and training remained 

a challenge.

Nevertheless, when the Great War ended on 

11 November 1918, the Naval Reserve was an 

established component of the U.S. Navy, one that 

would survive after the armistice. It was a small, 

under-funded organization (its 1920 budget was 

$50,000), reaching a low of only 6,000 members in 

1922, but it was capable of providing reserve crews 

for ships in limited numbers. In 1926, after several 

years of modest growth, the USNR included 1,332 

officers and 13,544 enlisted men, most of whom 

were distributed among 149 divisions nationwide.

Unfortunately, the slow but steady progress of 

the late 1920s was derailed by the Great Depression. 

As the nation’s defense budget was slashed, the 

reserves were hit first and hardest. In 1933 the 

USNR’s entire annual training budget — the thenprincely sum of $1 million — was eliminated. 

Overall strength plummeted, and Naval Reservists 

who stayed with their units usually did so without 

pay or benefits of any kind. By the mid-1930s, it 

was evident that the USNR was in dire straits and 

incapable of providing even minimal support to the 

active fleet without significant increases in personnel and especially funds. The need for a more robust 

force resulted in the Naval Reserve Act of 1938, 

which authorized more sailors and money and, just 

as important, streamlined pay, administrative, and 

training procedures. This step forward would ready 

the force for the great challenges ahead.

By 1939 Naval Reserve units were expanding 

with new recruits and junior officers in training. 

While most USNR sailors were preparing to support the fleet directly, small numbers of specialists 

were recruited and trained, including in cryptology. 

The Origins of a Special Program
Page 6

Although OP-20-G heretofore had eschewed ties 

with the USNR on grounds of secrecy — the fact 

that the Navy was breaking and making codes was 

considered highly classified — by 1939 it had begun 

a tentative outreach program to the Naval 

Reserve. Sailors, especially junior officers 

or officer cadets who demonstrated promise in mathematics, were enrolled in correspondence courses sponsored by OP-20-G. 

These courses, though unclassified, taught 

the basics of codes, ciphers, and analysis; 

training in radio techniques was provided 

where possible. Although the numbers of 

Naval Reservists participating in this sensitive program were small, amounting to 

only a few dozen sailors (one was John Paul 

Stevens, a junior officer and future Supreme 

Court justice), their contribution when war 

came would prove significant.

The Navy’s few trained cryptologists, 

active and reserve, were in high demand 

once America entered the Second World War 

following the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl 

Harbor on 7 December 1941. Even before that 

terrible day, USNR participation in the nation’s 

defense was significant. Select call-ups of Naval 

Reservists began in early September 1939, a week 

after Germany invaded Poland, and the mobilization tempo increased through 1940, as the predicament of the Allies worsened; by November of that 

year, 24,000 Naval Reservists had been called to 

active duty. Soon all would be.

The contribution of the Naval Reserve to 

American victory in the Second World War would 

be difficult to overstate. As most of those who 

joined the Navy during the war were actually 

enlisted in the Naval Reserve, the USNR’s role in 

the epic struggles in the Atlantic and Pacific was 

staggering. Of the three million American sailors serving in 1945, 2.6 million were USNR, as 

were 260,000 of the Navy’s 300,000 officers 

(among them were five future presidents: John F. 

Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard M. Nixon, 

Gerald R. Ford, and George H.W. Bush). The 

Naval Reserve’s war record included many milestones, including the enlistment of large numbers 

of women, known as WAVES (Women Accepted for 

Volunteer Emergency Service). There were 91,000 

Admiral Ralph E. Cook, 

USN (Ret.), enlisted in the U.S. Naval Reserve 

in 1934 and advanced to radioman third class 

before earning a commission in January 

1941 on his way to service in the Philippine 

Islands. Evacuated from Corregidor by submarine in early 1942, he served the next 21 

years as a Navy cryptologist. In 1963 he was 

selected as the director of the Naval Security 

Group, going on in July 1968 to become the 

first flag officer and the first officer to serve 

as the head of the newly established Naval 

Security Group Command.

One of the many WAVES who operated the U.S. Navy 

Bombes that helped decrypt Nazi messages during 

World War II.
Page 7

serving by 1944, including many officers. The first 

African-Americans to receive commissions in the 

U.S. Naval service, the famous “Golden Thirteen,” 

were also USNR. There were thirty-seven AfricanAmerican naval officers before the war’s end, all 

Naval Reservists.

The Naval Reserve’s impact on cryptology was 

no less impressive. The Navy’s small codebreaking 

effort — on the eve of Pearl Harbor it boasted only 

300 personnel worldwide — needed rapid expansion, and reservists filled the gap. The few USNR 

sailors trained before the war in codes and ciphers 

were especially valuable, but the influx of talent 

from all walks of life into the Naval Reserve “for 

the duration” proved a priceless asset to the Navy’s 

cryptologic organization.

The wartime exploits of OP-20-G are legendary, 

most notably the war-winning contribution made 

by Commander Joe Rochefort’s Honolulu-based 

Station Hypo in leading Admiral Chester Nimitz to 

victory at Midway in June 1942. Less known is that 

of the more than 10,000 codebreakers who served 

in the U.S. Navy between 1941 and 1945, well over 

90 percent were reservists. They played key roles in 

every aspect of what was then termed radio intelligence — interception, decryption, translation, and 

analysis — at sites around the world. Many were 

women: at the war’s height, four-fifths of the sailors serving at OP-20-G headquarters on Nebraska 

Avenue in Washington, DC (it was not just an 

administrative post, but also the central processing 

facility for radio intelligence against the German 

Navy) were WAVES.

After Allied victory in August 1945, virtually 

all Naval Reservists went home. They had served 

honorably and wanted to become civilians again. 

Many, particularly officers, believed they had been 

treated inequitably by the regular Navy, notably in 

matters of awards and advancement; only 2,200 

USNR officers applied for regular commissions at 

the war’s end. Cryptology was no exception, and 

nearly the entire force demobilized within months 

of victory, headed for home with top secret tales 

they could regale no one with. Retaining and maintaining the outstanding skills honed in war was 

now the challenge confronting the Naval Reserve.

The Early Years (1945-1955)

The Navy was acutely aware of the dominant 

role played by reservists in wartime cryptology 

and of the need to keep the best codebreakers in 

the Naval Reserve. Captain Joseph N. Wenger, 

commander of OP-20-G in 1945, considered the 

development of a cryptologic reserve program one 

of his highest priorities. A visionary and superlative organizer, Wenger established a group to 

develop USNR cryptology even before the war’s 

end, explaining, “Certainly we must see that we 

never again have to depend on so small a number 

of reservists as we had in 1941.” For Wenger, soon 

to be selected as the Navy’s first cryptologic admiral, reservists constituted “our most important 

reservoir of personnel in the future.”

OP-20-G, known euphemistically in the initial 

postwar era as Communications Supplementary 

Activities (CSA), envisioned a reserve structure 

Captain Joseph N. Wenger, USN, led U.S. 

Navy cryptology to success in World War 

II, earned selection as the first Navy cryptologic flag officer, and established a reserve 

program after the war to retain many of the 

uniquely talented personnel for mobilization 

in future conflicts.
Page 8

that would include a communications intelligence 

(COMINT) staff in each Naval District, with a 

cryptologic officer in charge of relevant training 

for all personnel. Veteran codebreakers advocated 

for a “live” mission for USNR cryptology, not just 

training — an admirable goal that would prove difficult to realize. Wenger’s vision of a CSA reserve 

was sweeping; he wanted 5,000 drilling reservists, viewing the considerable cost involved as a 

necessary expenditure, given how valuable USNR 

codebreakers had been in the Atlantic and Pacific 

campaigns. There were thousands of experienced 

cryptologists in the Naval Reserve, which was over 

a million strong on paper, but not enough were 

serving in organized NR units (i.e., in paid status).

There were additional challenges. COMINT 

units of the Organized Reserve in the postwar years 

were frequently without adequate drilling space, 

much less secure areas or proper equipment; drills 

therefore tended toward the haphazard, and most 

units were fortunate to complete required training. 

Some units were known to hold drills in officers’ 

houses, with sailors bringing their own typewriters, 

paper, and other necessary items. In a typical case, 

the CSA Reserve unit in Richmond, Virginia, began 

modestly in 1948, drilling in the offices of the state 

Division of Motor Vehicles until space could be 

found at a proper Naval Reserve center.

What operational work existed was modest, and 

some was downright casual. Lacking proper drill 

sites and equipment, units organized “ham” radio 

efforts, monitoring frequencies (sometimes on 

Navy-supplied radios residing in reservists’ homes) 

and copying signals on frequencies assigned by 

CSA. For want of other options, the USNR allowed 

select members to conduct this classified work 

from home and send the results to Washington, 

DC, via registered mail.

Recruitment into the program was informal 

and functioned mostly on the basis of personal contacts. Nevertheless, by mid-1948 the CSA 

Reserve had eighty units across the United States, 

including several in Hawaii, with 2,000 sailors. By 

early 1950 there were 2,700 participating in the 

Organized Reserve program, one thousand of them 

officers, most of them war veterans. Interestingly, 

there were 575 female members, 375 of them officers — all veterans of the war. By the summer, 

Admiral Wenger, head of the newly established 

Naval Security Group (NSG, as CSA was renamed 

in 1950), had fended off an attempt by the Bureau 

of Personnel to cut drill hours for his reserve, and 

the Chief of Naval Operations had recently recommended an expansion to ninety-five units. In only 

five years, Wenger’s vision of a nationwide Naval 

Reserve force of trained cryptologists had been 

realized, at least in embryonic form, and the foundation of a robust organization had been laid. It 

was not to last.

Walter Sherman Gifford Jr. was appointed to 

the rank of ensign in the U.S. Naval Reserve 

15 December 1941. He served in the Office 

of the Chief of Naval Operations until July 

1944 when he was ordered to the Pacific for 

duty with the Fleet Radio Unit of the Seventh 

Fleet. He attained the rank of lieutenant on 1 

October 1942. Lieutenant Gifford was killed 

when a plane in which he was a passenger 

crashed on take-off in Funafuti Lagoon, Ellice 

Islands Group, 31 July 1944.

It was in Lieutenant Gifford’s honor that the 

trophy (See p. 13) was named. The award 

was made by the Navy Department on the 

basis of performance, including enrollment, 

attendance at drills, annual active duty for 

training, and advancement in rating. The first 

award was made in 1953.
Page 9

On 25 June 1950, the North Korean People’s 

Army burst across the South Korean border, 

steamrollering over U.S.-backed forces and taking Seoul. South Korean units retreated south in a 

shambles. Only the rapid dispatch of several U.S. 

Army divisions staved off total defeat. America 

was again at war. President Truman authorized 

the call-up of all needed reservists, and large categories of part-time sailors, soldiers, airmen, and 

Marines reported for duty en masse. In mid-1950 

the Navy’s Organized Reserve consisted of 25,000 

officers and 153,000 enlisted sailors; within a year, 

the Navy had recalled 182,000 reservists, including some inactive members. Essentially the entire 

NSG Reserve was recalled, and across the country 

cryptologic units disappeared into the active Navy. 

Many NR cryptologists were dispatched to the fleet, 

while others reported to NSG field sites or headquarters on Nebraska Avenue in Washington, DC, 

or to the nearby Armed Forces Security Agency, 

which would be renamed the National Security 

Agency (NSA) in November 1952.

Many NSG Reserve units were called up in toto, 

with no members left behind; others retained small 

cadres to provide continuity of operations at home 

stations. In a typical case, every sailor with the 

Denver unit was mobilized, and the zero-strength 

outfit shut its doors, including the burning of all 

classified and sensitive documents before the command group shipped out. In 1952 recalled reservists began to be sent home, as the Korean War was 

on the wane and the needs of the global confrontation with Soviet Union — the Cold War — could be 

met by America’s active duty military. For some 

Naval Reservists, however, two wars were enough, 

and many had no desire to stay in the organized 

reserve. Thus did the NSG Reserve (NSGR: it was 

formally the Naval Reserve Naval Security Group, 

but this work will cite the less cumbersome abbreviation in use today) lose large numbers of trained 

personnel who could not be easily replaced. Just 

as pernicious was the abandonment of the “ham” 

radio-like monitoring mission by the mid-1950s. 

This effort, while almost laughably informal by 

today’s standards, with its home-based COMINT 

suites, nevertheless gave NSGR units a real mission 

that was useful and enjoyable for many reservists. 

Its abandonment left the Navy’s cryptologic reserve 

force without a “live” mission, an unfortunate situation that would last for over a decade, damaging 

both relevance and retention.

Despite these formidable challenges, the NSGR 

benefited from the reconstitution of the Naval 

Reserve that took place in the mid-1950s. The 

Armed Forces Reserve Act of 1952 standardized 

administrative procedures across the services, and 

the Navy made a concerted effort to determine what 

the USNR should consist of and what missions it 

should prepare for. For cryptologists, the result was 

an effort to streamline the system and ensure training met the needs of the service and likely wartime 

missions. As Korean War veterans returned home, 

new NSGR units sprouted across the country, while 

others were reconstituted after being shut down 

in 1950-51 by mobilization. Denver’s unit, which 

had been entirely called up, attempted a rebirth, 

but encountered opposition from the local Naval 

District; many ex-members drilled with other 

NR units, or left the reserve altogether, until the 

unit’s reestablishment was approved in early 1954. 

However, in line with NSGR policy, the reconstituted unit had no operational mission, and focused 

instead on training, especially of enlisted members, 

the Communications Technicians (CTs: in 1976 

the title was changed to Cryptologic Technician) 

who formed the bulk of the unit. The post-Korean 

War NSGR made a major push to bring CTs up to 

standards through rigorous training, a major challenge since many NSGR sailors had served in noncryptologic ratings in the active Navy, or in some 

cases had never served on active duty at all. Before 

Korea, officer training was accorded a higher priority, but beginning in the mid-1950s, enlisted training was a larger task since the lion’s share of NSGR 

personnel were now seamen or petty officers, and 

significant functions such as language analysis and 

other advanced COMINT analysis were no longer 

considered “officer’s work.”
Page 10

The Height of the Cold War (1955-1965)

By the mid-1950s, the NSGR had returned to 

its pre-Korea strength and nationwide presence. It 

stood ready to bolster the Naval Security Group’s 

global posture at sea, in the air, and at many field 

sites in the event of mobilization. Yet it cannot be 

denied that the program had lost a key component 

of Admiral Wenger’s vision, namely, the operational focus that ought to have been the organization’s 

primary mission. Instead, NSGR units had become 

little more than training groups designed to bring 

CTs up to minimum standards of proficiency in 

basic cryptologic tasks. At the Cold War’s height, 

the CT rating was divided into four branches: 

A, which performed administrative functions; M, 

responsible for maintaining equipment; O, which 

were essentially communicators; and R, which 

were cryptologic radiomen charged with some 

analytical tasks. In the 1960s, the CT rating added 

two additional branches: I, for language work; and 

T, for non-Morse intercept and the operation of 

technical equipment.

NSGR units were usually small, with a commanding officer, an executive officer, and officers 

responsible for training and 

administration but no officer in charge of operations. 

Indeed, NR cryptologists of 

the era would have found the 

notion odd for the simple reason that the NSGR performed 

no operations. The activities 

of most units, customarily 

performed during three-hour 

drills in the evenings, centered 

on lesson plans and correspondence courses. Lectures 

and hands-on learning were 

provided when possible, but 

few units possessed modern 

intercept equipment (some 

units trained sailors in Morse 

code using ancient 78 rpm 

records). Additionally, many 

NSGR sailors lacked the full security clearance 

required to undertake operational work.

Discipline in many units was relaxed — it 

looked slack to those coming from the fleet — with 

officers and enlisted sometimes on a first-name 

basis. Relations were sometimes too casual (one 

officer remembered that his CO, eager to get numbers up, apparently offered civilian jobs with his 

company to new recruits) and the all-training culture contributed to a lack of drive and dynamism 

in the program.

In addition to training, which was in the hands 

of the small group of experienced personnel known 

as “cadre” in most units, much reservist time was 

spent on recruiting and screening new members. 

The NSGR received a regular influx of personnel 

coming off active duty, yet it is evident that by 

the late 1950s the program had drifted from its 

operational aspirations and was becoming mired 

in routine, with too much training and administrative work and not enough real-world activities. 

Few reservists were assigned any specific wartime 

mission. The large-scale growth in the active duty 

Naval Security Group during this period was not 

NSGR training suite
Page 11

mirrored in the reserve structure, which was drifting apart from the active force. Inevitably, recruiting and retention suffered, despite growth in the 

Naval Reserve, and by 1960 three of the four CT 

branches were in steady decline; the drop in A 

branchers — 22 percent — over the previous two 

years was precipitous. Talented officers likewise 

were abandoning the program, and before long the 

NSGR was facing a serious billet cut averted only 

by the strong advocacy of the Director, NSG.

Paper strength remained impressive — even 

though NSGR could meet only 60 percent of its 

mobilization requirements — and by 1965 the program boasted 101 units across the country, with 

an authorized strength of 700 officers and 4,000 

enlisted personnel in pay billets. However, its relevance to the Navy was in doubt. During the Berlin 

Crisis of summer 1961, President Kennedy recalled 

almost 8,000 Naval Reservists, but no cryptologists. In fairness to NR cryptology, its problems 

mirrored those of the larger Naval Reserve, particularly the difficulty in training and retaining the 

best personnel in desired skills (a 1964 GAO study 

revealed the USNR possessed only 35 percent of 

the supervisory petty officers it needed), but the 

situation in the NSGR had grown acute by the mid1960s. Although it would be wrong to characterize 

this period as a “lost decade” for Naval Reserve 

cryptology, this was unquestionably 

the program’s troubled era.

As the Navy and the nation became 

embroiled in the Vietnam War in the 

mid-1960s, the reserves were spared the 

major mobilization that had accompanied America’s last Asian conflict. The 

Naval Reserve was essentially unaffected by limited call-ups during Vietnam, 

and the NSGR was untouched altogether. This was fortunate, as it gave 

the program time to assess its condition and regain operational relevance 

beginning in the middle of the decade.

A Changing Navy — and Nation (1965-1975)

The lack of operational focus in Naval Reserve 

cryptology had grown apparent, but what mission 

should NR codebreakers and codemakers be performing? Units lacked the modern equipment and 

trained personnel to play a role in top secret operations, to say nothing of the complications posed 

by the program’s part-time status. It took time for 

any consensus to emerge, but by the mid-1960s it 

was clear to many reserve cryptologists that communications security (COMSEC) offered the NR an 

attractive “live” mission that part-time cadres could 

perform successfully. The COMSEC mission had 

always been viewed as a very secondary responsibility in NSG, trailing far behind COMINT (or, to 

use a later term, signals intelligence or SIGINT) in 

importance and prestige, but for NSGR it seemed a 

good fit. After a more than fifteen-year hiatus, NR 

cryptology would return to the operational fold and 

find renewed purpose.

Vietnam had highlighted glaring COMSEC 

problems in all the armed services, so the program’s effort to increase COMSEC effectiveness for 

the active Navy was well timed. Some 1966 experiments conducted by several NSGR units to assess 

the possibilities offered by the COMSEC monitoring mission led to formal plans of action. In March 

Naval Reserve chief petty officer

 supervises training of R-390 operators.
Page 12

1967 the Commander, Pacific Fleet (CINCPACFLT), 

described this initiative as “a refreshing idea to 

bring the reserve and active components into closer 

cooperation.” Soon CINCPACFLT was requesting 

formal NSGR assistance to monitor, assess, and 

report on the COMSEC status of his command.

This was no small task, but it was achievable with modest training, and, just as important, 

standard-issue R-390 receivers were all that was 

required. In 1967 West Coast NSGR units began 

monitoring Pacific Fleet frequencies, looking for 

COMSEC violations; the problems they found were 

legion, with COMSEC among naval aviators being 

notably poor. In Vietnam such slipshod practices 

cost lives; off California, it resulted in a bad writeup, at worst. CINCPACFLT appreciated the work 

offered by NSGR — it cannot be said that those 

whose poor security practices were noted were 

equally enthusiastic — and the new mission gave 

units a new sense of purpose. Sailors enjoyed having any operational mission to perform, and retention improved, as did skill sets.

Success inspired further success and, in the 

late 1960s, NSGR unit commanders, especially 

though not exclusively on the West Coast, began 

reaching out to active Navy commands to offer 

their COMSEC expertise. NSG was stretched to 

the limit in the late 1960s, a time of trials and 

tragedy. Over a grim period of less than two years, 

the Naval Security Group suffered unprecedented 

disasters: the Israeli attack on the USS Liberty in 

June 1967, the North Korean capture of the USS 

Pueblo in January 1968, and the shootdown of 

an EC-121 electronic reconnaissance aircraft by 

North Korean MiGs in April 1969. Naval Reserve 

cryptology offered assistance to the active force 

where it could, mainly in COMSEC monitoring. In 

1969 the NSGR unit in Alameda, CA, offered CTs 

to serve afloat with the Pacific Fleet for two-week 

periods to perform COMSEC missions, an effort 

that was judged a success by all involved. Soon 

other NSGR units joined in, and by the early 1970s, 

units were routinely operating off the aircraft carriers Oriskany, Ranger, Coral Sea, Hancock, and 

Enterprise, offering the fleet high-caliber COMSEC 

monitoring unavailable elsewhere. Another novel 

aspect of the COMSEC program was interservice 

cooperation that flowered in the early 1970s on the 

initiative of local commanders. NSGR units worked 

with Army and Air Force Reserve partners, assisting them with the techniques of a discipline Naval 

Reserve cryptologists had grown very proficient 

in. This joint operational relationship lasted into 

the mid-1990s. Many reservists were enthusiastic 

about the COMSEC program, and units were filled 

with a vigor and morale not seen heretofore in 

the NSGR; some sailors even brought their own, 

private radio gear in for drills to assist the mission as proper gear was always in short supply. 

However, participation in SIGINT, the top cryptologic mission, eluded the reserve, an omission that 

some NSGR officers aimed to change. A desire to 

participate in SIGINT, what was euphemistically 

termed Special Operations (SPECOPS) by reserve 

cryptologists, was widespread among forwardlooking NR cryptologists, and there was no doubt 

that Admiral Wenger’s vision for the NSGR had 

encompassed it. This nevertheless was a challenge, 

as it involved collecting real intelligence against 

foreign targets. Never before had a reserve organization been granted responsibility for all facets 

of a SIGINT mission: tasking, collection, processing, and reporting. By the early 1970s, facing a 

drawdown in the active force, NSG was responsive, 

as were the Department of Defense and the intelligence community.

There were many obstacles, not least the need 

for participating units to have properly trained 

and cleared personnel and a secure work area 

(known as a Special Compartmented Information 

Facility or SCIF), but beginning in the early 1970s 

select NSGR units began collecting and analyzing 

SIGINT against defined foreign targets, as directed 

by national-level intelligence authorities. Growth 

came slowly, and the information collected, processed, and analyzed was of only slight intelligence 

value to DoD or the IC. Nevertheless, this was a 

proof of concept, demonstrating over four years 

that Naval Reserve cryptologists were able to perD-
Page 13

form real-world SIGINT missions in accordance 

with DoD/IC directives, tasking, and security procedures. There were limitations to what part-time 

cryptologists could do. Blanket coverage of a target 

was impossible. That said, the NSGR offered NSG 

and DoD a cost-effective way to provide partial 

coverage of second-tier targets, ones that were of 

interest but which the active duty force, decreasing in strength in the 1970s, could no longer afford 

to cover. Strong support came from Rear Admiral 

Chester D. Phillips, the Commander, NSG, who 

liked the reserve’s ability to provide valuable assets 

at modest expense for the Navy. He was impressed 

that reserve SIGINT operators at several NSGR 

sites had grown as proficient as their active duty 

shipmates. 

Beginning in mid-1973, RADM Phillips pushed 

for more NSGR units to join the SPECOPS misRear Admiral Chester D. Phillips (at lectern) 

Commander, Naval Security Group Command, 

presented the Gifford Trophy to the 22-member 

Navy Reserve unit of Madison, Wisconsin,

 for excellence in Fiscal Year 1971.

Captain James D. Delaney, USNR (right front), leading a critical

Navy Reserve planning conference at NSA in 1977.
Page 14

sion, thereby expanding the initiative. This was no 

small request, given the need to ensure units had 

the right personnel and an accredited SCIF, but 

NR cryptologists were eager to take on the challenge. The SIGINT mission, or SPECOPS, would be 

combined with COMSEC missions. Captain James 

D. Delaney played an indispensable role by developing the strategic vision and implementation plan 

for SPECOPS. It was fortuitous that CAPT Delaney 

worked with DoD in civilian life as a senior-level 

manager in SIGINT operations and was able to 

serve as a bridge between the organizations. His 

role in building the SPECOPS mission against a 

defined foreign target was crucial to its success. 

Delaney’s drive, determination, and hard work 

overcame the doubters, who wondered what a parttime organization could contribute to nationallevel SIGINT operations.

By the mid-1970s, CAPT Delaney’s vision had 

crystallized and was taking shape. The success of 

this effort depended on three factors: central operational planning, coordinated drilling by units, and 

effective use of the two-week annual training (AT) 

period given to all NR sailors. CAPT Delaney’s own 

unit at Fort Meade, MD, was responsible for the 

central planning and coordination of all SIGINT 

activities; it also provided collection management, 

traffic analysis, and reporting of the intelligence 

information collected by NSGR units. Many reservists spent profitable ATs at Fort Meade, honing 

SIGINT skills and adding value to the broader mission.

Reserve units wishing to join the program were 

inspected by NSG, which provided quality control 

for basic SIGINT skills. Once the unit had reached 

active duty standards for operations, it “graduated” to DoD for tasking, and became part of the 

nationwide network. By the end of 1974, eight units 

had “graduated,” and by mid-1976 a dozen NSGR 

units were full participants in the program, while 

fourteen more were in preparation. In July 1975 

the intelligence community issued the first SIGINT 

report based on NSGR collection and analysis, a 

milestone in the history of the Naval Reserve. As 

CAPT Delaney explained, “This is the first time a 

reserve organization of any kind has been given 

the authority to release information directly to the 

intelligence community.” For NR cryptology, a new 

era had dawned.

Changes in the program were by no means 

limited to operations. The end of direct American 

participation in the Vietnam War in 1973, and the 

end of conscription that year, brought significant 

changes to the Naval Reserve. Few NR sailors had 

been mobilized to serve in Southeast Asia, and 

the conflict had the unintended consequence of 

bolstering NR ranks; for many, the option of six 

years’ service in the reserve was preferable to two 

years’ active duty, possibly in Vietnam. In addition, 

numerous Navy cryptologists coming off active 

duty elected to join the NR, which ensured a steady 

supply of trained personnel for reserve units.

All that came to an end beginning in 1973. 

Concomitant cuts in the defense budget hit the 

reserves hard. Although the reserve was arguably 

less hurt by the lower funding than the full-timers 

were during the “hollow force” period of the mid1970s, it was nevertheless a time of trials for all 

reservists. Despite Pentagon assurances that the 

reserve component had an even greater role to play 

in an era of declining active duty manpower, under 

the rubric of what was termed the Total Force 

policy, the authorized strength of the NR’s Selected 

Reserve (SELRES) fell from 129,000 in 1973 to 

93,000 in 1976, and many units had difficulty 

reaching the reduced ceiling.

Cryptologic units had fewer manpower problems than many elements of the NR. They were 

now able to offer real-world missions, and they 

had the allure of secret operations. Jokes about 

what the “spooks” were doing “behind the green 

door” abounded at Naval Reserve centers, and 

there was no denying that cryptologists, with their 

clearances, special activities, and tight-lipped ways, 

constituted a breed apart. This mystique somewhat 

compensated for cutbacks in funding which resulted in fewer drills and AT days for NR sailors during 
Page 15

the 1970s. Another important factor in the effectiveness of the program was the increasing role 

played by women in NSGR. As noted, women had 

played an illustrious part in the history of American 

cryptology, especially in the Naval Reserve, and 

their participation in the early Cold War NSGR 

was important. Regrettably, however, the role of 

female officers and enlisted declined during the 

1950s; the Cold War Navy did not need women any 

longer — the draft and big budgets ensured enough 

men were available — and this bias spread into the 

reserve. During the 1950s, the active duty Navy 

phased women out of the CT rating, over the protests of NR cryptologists, and the future of women 

in NSGR grew precarious.

Naval Reserve cryptology had long appreciated 

the role played by female sailors. Admiral Wenger 

had highly praised the contribution of female 

naval cryptologists to the CNO, noting their fine 

performance in wartime, and stating the “inestimable value” they offered to the Navy. He “strongly 

recommended” that female officers and enlisted 

continue to serve in the Naval Reserve as codebreakers, as they did for several years after 1945. By 

the early 1960s, however, women had disappeared 

from the NSGR; unable to join the CT rating, there 

was no place for them to go.

Yet by the mid-1960s, it was apparent that this 

had been a mistake. Excluding half the American 

population from potential service, particularly after 

women had rendered sterling service as codebreakers in wartime, was foolish. NSG leadership in 

1966, taking up the issue on behalf of reservists, 

requested that women again be allowed to join 

NR cryptologic units and that they should be paid 

at the same rate as their male counterparts. Soon 

women were again allowed to join the CT rating, 

and by the early 1970s, female sailors were regularly seen drilling with NSGR units nationwide as 

Admiral Wenger had intended.

It bears noting that African-Americans became 

eligible to join the CT rating only in the 1950s 

after the Navy’s integration, and CTs of AfricanAmerican background were commonplace in the 

NSGR by the mid-1960s. The Cold War cryptologic community had grown more ethnically and 

racially diverse than the Navy as a whole, in part 

due to the need for linguists, sometimes for exotic 

languages, for which first-generation Americans of 

unique backgrounds were an ideal fit. Such diversity remains a hallmark of NSGR to the present 

day. Many female CTs became officers beginning in 

the 1970s. The widespread direct commissioning, 

or DIRCOM, of promising enlisted reservists, male 

and female, was a point of pride in the NSGR. Petty 

officers, and in some cases even chiefs, who possessed an excellent service record and had acquired 

relevant civilian skills and education, were frequently commissioned ensigns (or sometimes lieutenants, junior grade) without attending Officer 

Candidate School. This was a cost-effective way 

of ensuring a steady supply of technically competent junior officers and was a morale-booster, too, 

offering as it did a commission to hard-charging 

enlisted sailors. Beginning in the 1970s, DIRCOM 

officers constituted the bulk of the program’s junior 

officers, making NSGR an anomaly in the Naval 

Reserve, where most officers were products of OCS, 

Naval ROTC, or the Naval Academy. Cryptology 

was a highly specialized field, and although a direct 

commission was theoretically open to non-priorservice civilians, it was difficult to find anyone outside the cryptologic community who possessed the 

requisite skill set to become a 1615 (the designator 

for NR cryptologic officers). Hence, most DIRCOM 

selectees were enlisted personnel, veteran CTs. In 

many NSGR units, it was all but impossible to find 

junior officers who were not former enlisted.

From Malaise to Modernization (1975-1985)

The late 1970s were not a happy time for the 

Naval Reserve. Years of budget cuts took a toll 

on strength, readiness, and retention, and by the 

decade’s end, SELRES personnel had fallen to 

87,000, an unprecedented low in the post-World 

War Two era. NR units of all kinds were disbanded 

due to lack of funds, and the proposed 1979-80 

budget would have resulted in the decommission-
Page 16

ing of the entire NGSR, along with a host of other 

NR units. Fortunately this was averted, particularly 

when the Cold War heated up again with the Soviet 

invasion of Afghanistan in December 1979, but the 

Naval Reserve was in serious need of increased 

funding across the board. NSGR units were making do with what they had. Having “live” missions, 

both COMSEC and SPECOPS, to perform boosted 

morale, which was otherwise low during a period in 

which the entire Naval Reserve felt unappreciated. 

To compensate for inadequate resources, NSGR 

units collaborated closely with reservists from other 

services. The Navy had an edge in cryptologic matters over the Army and the Air Force, which during 

the 1970s merged their cryptologic and intelligence 

agencies, generally to the detriment of effectiveness 

in SIGINT and COMSEC operations. NSGR units 

not only had real missions, they also were customarily better equipped and trained than their Army 

and Air Force Reserve counterparts. Large parts 

of the country had no cryptologic reserve presence 

other than NSGR. Close collaboration among the 

services was the result, as scarce resources had 

to be shared. Thus Naval Reserve cryptologists 

often worked seamlessly with the other services 

in a manner that surprised active duty sailors, 

for whom “turf’ issues were more pressing. The 

Denver NSGR unit was typical. At the beginning 

of the 1980s, the unit — it was small like nearly 

all NR cryptologic units — had ten USNR officers 

and twenty-six enlisted sailors, supported by three 

Air Force Reserve (USAFR) officers, one Marine 

Reserve officer, and one USAFR enlisted man. The 

airmen and Marine had nowhere else to drill, as 

the NSGR unit was the only cryptologic presence 

in the Denver area. Such arrangements became 

routine in the 1970s, and it was not unknown for an 

NSGR unit’s Sailor of the Year to be not a sailor, but 

a reservist from the Army, Air Force, or Marines. 

Field exercises involving reserve cryptologists 

from multiple services, and even foreign partners, 

began in the mid-1970s. A representative event was 

Operation Spring Thaw in spring 1977, a large exercise held off western Canada. It was considered a 

groundbreaking success. Based at Whidbey Island, 

WA, for the exercise, two NSGR units performed 

COMSEC missions in collaboration with an Army 

Reserve cryptologic unit. 

This period also saw the selection of the first 

cryptologic admiral in the Naval Reserve, Rear 

Admiral Nelson O. Heyer, who was appointed the 

Commander, NSG’s Assistant for Reserve Plans 

and Readiness, a sign of the increased significance 

of reserve cryptology in the Navy. RADM Heyer 

successfully served as an advocate for reserve 

issues with NSG, and thanks to his performance 

the Navy would continue to promote NR cryptologists to flag rank. His successor, Commodore (later 

Rear Admiral) William J. Miles, was selected in 

1983.

The malaise of the late 1970s that harmed 

the entire reserve component came to an abrupt 

end with the beginning of Ronald Reagan’s presidency in January 1981. Defense budgets rose at 

once, resulting in immediate funding increases for 

reserve units across the country, and this proved 

a boon for the Naval Reserve in particular. The 

visionary and forward-leaning new Navy Secretary, 

John Lehman, was not only a strong proponent of 

maritime strength, but was an NR aviator himself. 

Secretary Lehman improved the pay and conditions of service for Naval Reservists, ensuring 

more paid drills and ATs for SELRES sailors. The 

USNR was authorized additional personnel and 

units and, thanks to increased pay and benefits, 

Rear Admiral Nelson O. Heyer, 

first flag officer of the 

Naval Reserve Security Group Program.
Page 17

there was no longer difficulty finding recruits. The 

Naval Reserve, which began the 1980s with only 

86,000 sailors, had over 129,000 on strength at 

the decade’s end. The NSGR benefited from these 

changes and as a result was able to add more units 

to the SIGINT mission — over seventy eventually. 

By the early 1980s, its participation in “real world” 

SIGINT was an established fact in the U.S. intelligence community. No one questioned any longer 

whether part-timers could play a meaningful role 

in top secret work. SPECOPS reporting provided 

by NSGR routinely was provided to high-level decision-makers, military and civilian, including the 

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary 

of State, and the White House on at least one occasion.

During one hectic international crisis of the 

first Reagan administration, NSGR sailors performed excellently, working from several drill sites 

across the country and providing a quick SIGINT 

response to meet the intelligence needs of the Navy 

and DoD.

Leadership at NSG and DoD continued to be 

impressed by what reservists could do at limited 

cost. The Commander, NSG, in 

the early 1980s, Rear Admiral 

Paul W. Dillingham Jr. was a 

strong advocate for the reserve, 

and expressed a faith in NSGR 

shared by few active duty admirals. His efforts resulted in NSGR 

playing an even greater role in 

intelligence production, and 

enabled the continuing success of 

the SIGINT program. It should be 

noted that the Director, NSA, in 

this period, Vice Admiral Bobby 

R. Inman, likewise supported 

NSGR efforts in national-level 

intelligence.

An important step forward in 

aligning NSGR more closely with 

national-level intelligence came at 

the end of 1982 with the creation of DoD’s Reserve 

Forces Advisor (RFA) office for cryptologic issues, 

and the appointment of Captain Raymond P. 

Schmidt, USNR, as the first holder of the position. 

CAPT Schmidt, a cryptologic officer since 1959 

(unlike most 1615s, he was an OCS graduate and 

had been a cryptologist since commissioning), during a tour of duty that lasted five and a half years, 

developed the RFA program and thereby assisted 

DoD and the IC in finding missions for reservists to 

perform, and in many cases the specific reservists 

to complete the task. By 1985 RFA had identified 

and validated some 1,000 mobilization billets for 

reservists, and thanks to CAPT Schmidt’s efforts, 

growing numbers of NSGR sailors performed ATs 

at Fort Meade, learning the latest cryptologic techniques and procedures, invaluable knowledge they 

brought back to their units across the country. 

Although there were still distances to go before 

NSGR could take full advantage of the operational, 

training, and funding opportunities offered by 

national-level intelligence, establishing the RFA 

constituted a crucial step forward for the program.

By 1985 Naval Reserve cryptology had fully 

recovered from the doldrums of the previous decade. 

Admiral Miles presented the new annual Delaney Award 

for mobilization excellence on board USS Constitution

in Boston, Massachusetts.
Page 18

Adequate funding had brought new equipment 

to its units and renewed vigor to its operations. 

Thanks to inspired leadership and the willingness 

of sailors of all ranks to work hard and innovatively, NSGR had matured into a valued partner of 

both active duty NSG and DoD/IC. It had 440 officers and 2,000 enlisted sailors on strength, drilling 

at eighty-five units located at seventy-eight Naval 

Reserve centers in nearly forty states. Its units were 

supervised by five regional commands, and every 

unit supported SIGINT in some capacity. This was 

remarkable progress in only a decade and stood in 

marked contrast to the NSGR of the mid-Cold War 

when cryptologic units lacked operational missions. Now NSGR sailors performed COMSEC and 

SPECOPS missions of real value to the Navy and 

the nation, at modest cost. The program had blazed 

a new path, demonstrating what part-time cryptologists could do if given the funds, equipment, 

and support. In the mid-1980s, the future of Naval 

Reserve cryptology had never appeared brighter.

Cold War Victory and Its Aftermath (1985-

1995)

Confident in its capabilities, the NSGR of the 

mid-1980s looked to the future and saw nothing 

but opportunities. In 1986 the program embarked 

on an ambitious Fleet Support initiative to supplement active duty NSG support to U.S. naval activities worldwide. This effort aimed to bring the skills 

of the NSGR to the fleet, using seagoing direct support assets as training — and ultimately operational 

— platforms for the reserve.

In October of that year, NSGR leadership gathered in Washington, DC, to discuss the program’s 

future. The two-day meeting, held at NSG headquarters, involved some eighty senior officers discussing where the program had been and where it 

was going. RADM Miles led a panel on the NSGR’s 

future, including discussion of the operational 

possibilities ahead. The conference’s highlight was 

Naval Reserve Security Group leaders from around the nation attended the innovative 

1986 Planning Conference in the historic building where Navy cryptologists helped win 

World War II.
Page 19

the “birthday party” for NSGR, since the gathering 

coincided with the 40th anniversary of the establishment of the first NR cryptologic unit by direction of Admiral Wenger in 1946. None doubted 

that the Navy’s first cryptologic admiral would be 

pleased with what had been accomplished, particularly since the early 1970s.

What no one could know, however, was that the 

Cold War had entered its final phase in the mid1980s and that the Soviet Union was on its last legs. 

The slow collapse of the Soviet empire, including 

the fall of the Berlin Wall in autumn 1989 and culminating in the disintegration of the Soviet Union 

itself two years later, brought profound changes to 

the U.S. military and intelligence community, and 

NSGR was no exception. The adversary that the 

United States had come to know well in over four 

decades of Cold War confrontation disappeared in 

a fashion few predicted — with a whimper rather 

than a bang.

What this meant for NSGR no one knew at first. 

Although NR cryptology possessed many talented 

sailors with skills that could be redirected against 

new problems, doing so would take time and 

effort. NSG and DoD were unable to offer much 

guidance, as those far larger organizations were 

themselves engaged in assessing their future in the 

early 1990s.

That the program needed to move beyond its 

Cold War posture was evident even before the 

USSR collapsed. The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 

August 1990 led to the largest reserve mobilization 

since the Korean War. The Naval Reserve mobilized over 21,000 sailors in the summer and fall of 

1990 to meet the needs of Operations Desert Shield 

and Desert Storm; hardly any cryptologists were 

called up, and no units were. While the U.S. military performed exceptionally well in the liberation 

of Kuwait, NSGR played no part in the operation. It 

was clear that the program needed to redefine itself 

for the post-Cold War world. 

The identical challenge stood before the entire 

Naval Reserve. The early 1990s, with their vaunted 

“peace dividend,” saw cutbacks in reserve funding, units, and missions reminiscent of the postVietnam era. Again long-serving NR sailors were 

informed they no longer had pay billets, sometimes 

without explanation; again SELRES personnel 

faced an uncertain future. Naval Reserve strength 

was reduced by approximately one-third in the first 

half of the 1990s, as the force struggled to discover 

its relevance and core competencies after the disappearance of the Soviet empire.

NSGR was hit particularly hard by the cutbacks. The drawdown began in 1990, with the 

decommissioning of several units, but beginning in 

1993, the program was dramatically scaled back, so 

that in less than two years it fell from some 2,500 

SELRES sailors in 59 units to fewer than 1,000 in 

20 units, resulting in a force smaller than at any 

point since the Korean War. In 1979 NSGR avoided 

total dissolution thanks to the support of the active 

force. Now NSG seemed to place less value on the 

reserve’s contribution, which was perhaps no surprise given the trying transition from Cold War to 

uncertain peace. It was unclear what the reserve 

had to offer during such a period of reassessment 

and flux for the military and the intelligence community.

Under the leadership of Rear Admirals Robert 

H. Weidman Jr. and Thomas E. Courneya, NSGR 

made the difficult transition from the confident 

program of the late 1980s to the transitional force 

of the mid-1990s. This was the lowest period in 

the history of Naval Reserve cryptology. As in the 

1950s, operations gave way to training, and mission focus became blurry — inevitably so, as it 

was unclear what SIGINT missions NR cryptology 

ought to be undertaking. Morale proved difficult 

to sustain in the face of severe cutbacks in sailors, 

equipment, units, and missions. NSGR leadership 

had made the difficult, but ultimately wise, decision to endure short-term pain to accrue long-term 

benefits. Only by drastically shedding personnel 

and units could the program hope to survive and 
Page 20

refashion itself as an operationally relevant force 

for the post-Cold War Navy. More sailors left the 

program than stayed behind, and not all separations were voluntary. Numerous units that had 

served for more than forty years, after being reconstituted after the Korean War, were decommissioned. NSGR’s footprint, which had once encompassed over a hundred units in nearly forty states, 

was reduced to a shadow of that.

Yet it must be admitted that only through such 

harsh measures was NSGR able to survive at all. 

Funds made available through slashing of personnel and units were expended on more drills, ATs, 

and active duty training days for those still serving; 

this was particularly important for NSGR linguists, 

who needed substantially more active duty time 

than other CTs to keep their skills fresh. It was 

better to have twenty units, properly outfitted with 

modern equipment and staffed by fully trained 

and cleared sailors than to have many more units 

equipped with legacy systems manned by sailors 

with outdated skills. Only through modernization 

could the program hope to contribute to the postCold War Navy and intelligence community.

By 1995 the worst was over and NSGR had 

commenced its transition from an operations posture aimed at the Soviet Union into a forwardlooking force attempting to find developing cryptologic missions. Fortunately for the program, the 

COMSEC mission had never gone away, and the 

Navy’s need for monitoring remained robust; for 

NSGR this continued to be a core effort and a point 

of pride. Finding new SIGINT missions was more 

challenging, however, as this required new equipment, highly skilled personnel, and assistance and 

cooperation with NSG and DoD. By the mid-1990s, 

though, there were promising signs that Naval 

Reserve cryptology stood at the cusp of a renaissance.

Renewal and Transformation (1995-2005)

By 1995 the Department of Defense had developed a new, post-Cold War model of how Reserve 

Component (RC) intelligence and cryptologic units 

ought to function operationally, and it looked a 

great deal like how NSGR had done business in 

the 1970s. What Naval Reserve cryptologists had 

developed in the 1970s and brought to fruition in 

the 1980s — namely, using dispersed assets across 

the country to provide highly classified, meaningful 

support to national-level intelligence on a regular 

basis — was what the Pentagon wanted, only now 

to be performed by all reservists serving in intelligence or cryptologic units. The new DoD plan, 

promulgated in January 1995, mandated that RC 

intelligence personnel — 20,000 in all — begin 

supporting national-level agencies as their primary 

mission. Charging RC elements to “do in peacetime what you do in wartime,” the Pentagon tasked 

reservist “spooks” from all the armed services to 

become relevant to national-level missions. 

This was possible thanks to DoD support in 

bringing improved facilities, with updated equipment and secure connectivity, to the reserves. There 

were many challenges — improving interoperability and connectivity with national agencies, better 

training in operations, an emphasis on recruiting 

and retaining key skills (particularly language) — 

but the basic need was proper drill sites. These 

DoD provided beginning in the mid-1990s with the 

establishment of Joint Reserve Intelligence Centers 

(JRIC) across the country. Within five years, there 

were twenty-seven JRICs with full secure connectivity with national-level intelligence agencies, 

serving as a model for “virtual teaming,” allowing the unique skills of RC intelligence to be used 

daily in peacetime to support national intelligence 

requirements.

NRSG benefited from this sea change immediately. After decades of neglect, the Pentagon 

appreciated that RC intelligence and cryptology 

offered special, high-demand skills — particularly 

in information technology and language — that 

were scarce in the active duty military. In the second half of the 1990s, NR cryptology charted a new 

course that would bring newfound relevance to the 

program. Having proper drill sites was the neces-
Page 21

sary first step, and before long all NSGR units possessed complete top secret connectivity with each 

other and national-level partners.

Getting and keeping the right people was another no less important challenge. The early 1990s 

constituted a personnel drought: a significant loss 

of sailors, including many of the most experienced, 

with minimal fresh blood entering the program. 

In the second half of the decade, NSGR began to 

set this right. Recruiting commenced again, as did 

officer commissioning, and sailors were receiving 

enough active duty time to maintain their individual skills. By 2000 the program’s human capital 

had improved notably over a few years before, and 

NSGR was having success bringing CTs with lowdensity languages — always the hardest skill to 

recruit — into its ranks.

The “new” NSGR would be tested in earnest in 

2001 in the aftermath of the terrible 11 September 

terrorist attacks on our homeland. Under the leadership of Rear Admiral James B. Plehal, Naval 

Reserve cryptologists came forward immediately to 

defend our country. Over 300 NSGR sailors — onethird of the program — were mobilized after 9/11, 

nearly all of them volunteers. They were called to 

active duty for a year (in some cases more), placing lives and careers on hold, often with significant 

personal and financial hardship, to serve the Navy 

and the nation.

The performance of NR cryptologists after 9/11 

was impressive, demonstrating how far the program had come since the difficult post-Cold War 

drawdown. While the embers of the World Trade 

Center still burned, NSGR sailors reported for duty 

around the world to defend the homeland and take 

the war on terrorism to the enemy. Following 9/11, 

NSGR elements undertook several interesting initiatives, including some set up at Fort Meade. The 

reservists attacked these initiatives with gusto and 

played an important role in supporting homeland 

security operations.

That was only part of the story. NSGR officers 

and enlisted deployed forward, serving with U.S. 

Central Command (CENTCOM) in the Middle 

East, from Qatar to Bahrain to Afghanistan beginning in fall 2001, and in Iraq beginning in spring 

2003. They brought much-needed cryptologic 

expertise to Operations Enduring Freedom and 

Iraqi Freedom. Others participated in antiterrorism operations in the Pacific region and other quiet 

yet vital fronts in the Global War on Terrorism 

(GWOT). NSGR sailors found themselves serving 

not just on ships and on staffs, as expected, but 

in the field, at the “sharp end” of war alongside 

soldiers and Marines fighting terrorists at close 

quarters. Many NR cryptologists supporting the 

GWOT did so not from the Middle East, but from 

the United States. Mobilized reservists were dispatched to theater, but also to Fort Meade, and to 

major DoD facilities in Texas, Georgia, and Hawaii; 

they were as much engaged in the GWOT as those 

serving in the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq. 

Thanks to secure telecommunications, CTs were 

able to conduct SIGINT operations from the safety 

and comfort of U.S. territory (although sailors 

working long hours at cryptologic watch centers in 

support of deployed forces would question just how 

comfy it was). Mobilized NSGR personnel provided 

direct, real-time SIGINT support to CENTCOM 

operations from several DoD and NSG sites. Just 

as important, other recalled reservists worked nonGWOT targets, freeing up active duty cryptologists 

to support the GWOT.

Soon every NSGR unit would possess secure 

communications — phone, fax, and computer — 

with NSG and DoD/IC, including access to the 

necessary top secret databases; thus reservists not 

recalled to active duty were able to support the war 

effort, providing SIGINT analysis during drills and 

ATs. This was the culmination of extensive planning and investment in infrastructure and training. 

Thanks to strong efforts by Rear Admiral William 

D. Masters Jr. who charged NSGR with conducting 

any mission, at any place, at any time, full secure 

connectivity for every unit was achieved after 9/11.
Page 22

Finally, the fusion of active and reserve cryptology in the Navy was functionally complete. 

This development was something Admiral Wenger 

could only have imagined in 1945 but doubtless 

would have found impressive.

The 9/11 attacks heralded a new era for Naval 

Reserve cryptology. Although call-ups had been 

widespread, they had not been total as in 1950, 

thereby allowing units to continue to function, providing valuable operational support and training 

for those still on home station. The NSGR office 

at Fort Meade charged with planning and policy, 

headed by Captain Ronald E. Hecox, took the strategic view. All understood that the GWOT promised 

to be a long and difficult struggle — a marathon, 

not a sprint. Recruitment was helped by the surge 

of patriotism after 9/11, and NSGR was well on its 

way to reaching its authorized strength of 1,200 

sailors. Many of the new CTs were linguists, now 

seen as the program’s single greatest contribution 

to the Navy and the intelligence community.

Under the leadership of Rear Admiral William 

D. Masters Jr. the transformed NSGR played an 

important role in the GWOT and the defense of our 

homeland after 9/11, vindicating the force structure and concept of operations developed in the 

mid-1990s. Like so many NR cryptologic officers, 

RADM Masters had served as a CT beginning in 

1964 — including Vietnam service — and knew the 

program and its people well. Thanks to the efforts 

of many NSGR sailors, reserve cryptology had 

more than recovered the reputation for excellence 

and relevance it enjoyed in the 1970s and 1980s. 

After 9/11 the relationship between NSGR and 

NSG grew closer than it had ever been, culminating in the selection of RADM Masters as the Vice 

Commander, Naval Security Group, in late 2004, 

an unprecedented demonstration of the fusion of 

naval cryptology, active and reserve.

That fusion was complete in October 2005, 

with the realignment of cryptology — recently 

renamed information warfare — in the U.S. Navy. 

The Naval Security Group was decommissioned, 

its units resubordinated under the Information 

Operations Directorate of the Naval Network 

Warfare Command, headquartered in Norfolk, VA. 

NSGR became an integral component of this new 

organization. This was a significant step forward 

in the transformation of cryptology/information 

warfare in the U.S. Navy from a support function to 

a fighting command capable of conducting effective 

information operations, offensive and defensive, 

on behalf of the Navy and the nation. Indeed, in 

recognition of this role, the Reserve Component 

is programmed for 40 percent growth in coming 

years. For Naval Reservists, this is the beginning 

of yet another era, filled with promise, one that 

will offer sailors new ways to contribute to the 

defense of our homeland and its vital interests. 

This bold step forward poses novel challenges, but 

its rewards include an increased role for reservists 

in supporting the fleet and defeating our nation’s 

enemies. The future, like the past, will be filled 

with adventure and trials for those brave enough to 

make the journey.

The history of the Naval Security Group Reserve 

demonstrates the importance of institutions, but 

above all the indispensable part played by individuals. NSGR has never been a large command by the 

standards of the Naval Reserve or the intelligence 

community, but its contributions to the defense 

of our country have been significant. Its talented 

and driven sailors, though few in number, have 

made a valued difference, though most of their 

accomplishments remain classified. During World 

War II, the Korean War, and today’s Global War 

on Terrorism, Naval Reserve cryptologists have 

punched far above their weight, rendering sterling 

service in top secret operations. It is a proud history and a treasured legacy that will inspire the 

Navy’s citizen-codebreakers of today and tomorrow to further accomplishments. They will remain 

the silent warriors they have been throughout their 

history, serving in secrecy on behalf of the Navy 

and the nation.
Page 23

Source of photos: 

Captain Joseph N. Wenger 

(U.S. Navy photo courtesy of NSA)

Rear Admiral Nelson O. Heyer 

(U.S. Navy photo courtesy of Captain Raymond P. Schmidt)

WAVE photo courtesy of NSA 

All other photos courtesy of Naval Cryptologic Veterans Association (NCVA)