The Essential National Security Economics of the U.S. Navy - Part 5
World War II — America’s Shipbuilding Arsenal
To really grasp how precarious today’s naval shipbuilding situation is, you have to rewind to the 1940s. During World War II, the United States didn’t just build ships — it built an entire floating armada at a pace the world had never seen before and has never seen since.
The scale is hard to put into modern terms. Between 1941 and 1945, American shipyards produced more than 6,000 naval vessels of all kinds: aircraft carriers, battleships, cruisers, destroyers, submarines, and thousands of support ships. On top of that, the country churned out more than 2,700 Liberty ships, the cargo vessels that carried troops, tanks, and supplies across the Atlantic and Pacific.
Where did this happen? Everywhere.
On the West Coast, Henry Kaiser’s yards in Richmond, California, became legendary. These were the “Liberty ship factories,” where whole ships rolled off assembly lines like cars in Detroit. One Liberty ship was famously built in under five days from keel laying to launch. Portland, Oregon, had its own booming yards, building escort carriers and troop transports. Seattle and Los Angeles also played major roles, feeding the Pacific theater.
On the East Coast, Bethlehem Steel operated yards in Baltimore and New York. Newport News, of course, was already turning out carriers and battleships. Smaller yards in New Jersey, Philadelphia, and Boston were launching destroyers and submarines. In the Gulf, places like Mobile, Alabama, and Pascagoula, Mississippi, roared with activity. Even inland rivers like the Ohio and Mississippi had smaller yards building landing craft and auxiliary vessels.
And yes, Florida had its role. Jacksonville and Tampa contributed with smaller yards, producing tankers, freighters, and auxiliary ships. Tampa Shipyards, in particular, was active, laying the foundation for the commercial business that Steinbrenner later grew. During the war, every available waterfront was pressed into service.
The key point is that America’s shipbuilding effort was not concentrated in one or two places. It was dispersed across the entire country. The industrial base was so deep that if one yard slowed down, another picked up the slack. If a new design was needed, dozens of yards could adapt. That flexibility gave the U.S. Navy not just numbers, but resilience.
The workforce was just as remarkable. Millions of Americans, including women entering heavy industry for the first time, learned how to weld, rivet, and fit ships together. Training was rapid, standards were high enough for war, and production never stopped. Yards operated twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If a ship rolled down the ways at 2:00 a.m., there was a band playing and a crowd cheering.
By the end of the war, the United States had not only supplied itself but also built ships for its allies. Britain, the Soviet Union, and dozens of smaller nations received American-built hulls. It was the arsenal of democracy in the truest sense.
Compare that to today. Instead of dozens of major yards, we rely on five or six. Instead of Liberty ships launched in days, we build destroyers in years. Instead of surging thousands of vessels in four years, we struggle to maintain a fleet of 300. The contrast is so stark that it feels almost surreal.
This is why I say our shipbuilding base today is not decimated — which would mean a ten percent cut — and not annihilated, which would mean nothing left. It is something in between. We still have Newport News. We still have Bath and Ingalls. We still have Electric Boat. But the depth, the redundancy, the ability to surge? That is gone. And history proves that when conflict comes, surge capacity is what wins wars at sea.
To really grasp how precarious today’s naval shipbuilding situation is, you have to rewind to the 1940s. During World War II, the United States didn’t just build ships — it built an entire floating armada at a pace the world had never seen before and has never seen since.
The scale is hard to put into modern terms. Between 1941 and 1945, American shipyards produced more than 6,000 naval vessels of all kinds: aircraft carriers, battleships, cruisers, destroyers, submarines, and thousands of support ships. On top of that, the country churned out more than 2,700 Liberty ships, the cargo vessels that carried troops, tanks, and supplies across the Atlantic and Pacific.
Where did this happen? Everywhere.
On the West Coast, Henry Kaiser’s yards in Richmond, California, became legendary. These were the “Liberty ship factories,” where whole ships rolled off assembly lines like cars in Detroit. One Liberty ship was famously built in under five days from keel laying to launch. Portland, Oregon, had its own booming yards, building escort carriers and troop transports. Seattle and Los Angeles also played major roles, feeding the Pacific theater.
On the East Coast, Bethlehem Steel operated yards in Baltimore and New York. Newport News, of course, was already turning out carriers and battleships. Smaller yards in New Jersey, Philadelphia, and Boston were launching destroyers and submarines. In the Gulf, places like Mobile, Alabama, and Pascagoula, Mississippi, roared with activity. Even inland rivers like the Ohio and Mississippi had smaller yards building landing craft and auxiliary vessels.
And yes, Florida had its role. Jacksonville and Tampa contributed with smaller yards, producing tankers, freighters, and auxiliary ships. Tampa Shipyards, in particular, was active, laying the foundation for the commercial business that Steinbrenner later grew. During the war, every available waterfront was pressed into service.
The key point is that America’s shipbuilding effort was not concentrated in one or two places. It was dispersed across the entire country. The industrial base was so deep that if one yard slowed down, another picked up the slack. If a new design was needed, dozens of yards could adapt. That flexibility gave the U.S. Navy not just numbers, but resilience.
The workforce was just as remarkable. Millions of Americans, including women entering heavy industry for the first time, learned how to weld, rivet, and fit ships together. Training was rapid, standards were high enough for war, and production never stopped. Yards operated twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If a ship rolled down the ways at 2:00 a.m., there was a band playing and a crowd cheering.
By the end of the war, the United States had not only supplied itself but also built ships for its allies. Britain, the Soviet Union, and dozens of smaller nations received American-built hulls. It was the arsenal of democracy in the truest sense.
Compare that to today. Instead of dozens of major yards, we rely on five or six. Instead of Liberty ships launched in days, we build destroyers in years. Instead of surging thousands of vessels in four years, we struggle to maintain a fleet of 300. The contrast is so stark that it feels almost surreal.
This is why I say our shipbuilding base today is not decimated — which would mean a ten percent cut — and not annihilated, which would mean nothing left. It is something in between. We still have Newport News. We still have Bath and Ingalls. We still have Electric Boat. But the depth, the redundancy, the ability to surge? That is gone. And history proves that when conflict comes, surge capacity is what wins wars at sea.