The admiral warmed to the subject. He recalled that he had once had that idea and had investigated a few successful business enterprises in the effort to find out how they handled it. He had found his answer at General Motors. If any group could have effected important economies by central purchasing, it would seem to be that corporation. To his surprise, the several divisions of General Motors had been decentralized and given complete autonomy. Matter of fact, that had turned out to be the basic policy that had made the corporation successful. G.M. divisions had been encouraged to compete among themselves. No single all-powerful executive had been given the job of deciding things. Instead, General Motors’ customers made all the decisions. The financial statements of the several divisions were good barometers of the effectiveness of their management. The customer was always right. Now, the admiral continued, with each G.M. division held responsible for its own performance, common sense dictated that its officers must have full authority over the tools and materials required to discharge that responsibility. Control of purchasing was one of the first requirements. Automotive line production called for split-second scheduling of material receipts, and this could not be surrendered to some independent agency without danger of breakdown. Besides, while central purchasing might appear to reduce cost through volume purchases, competition between the divisions might do at least as well without endangering deliveries. That was all theory, but obviously a company like G.M., in which central purchasing might appear particularly attractive theoretically, must have come to their decision to decentralize after experience. Next day, on the train back to Washington, I felt depressed by the almost universal acceptance of the Mitchell plan. Even though the Morrow Board were to turn it down, public opinion would ultimately force its acceptance. The admiral, however, was most cheerful. He thought that if he now had just one man in the Bureau, he could turn the whole thing to his advantage. The man he had in mind was Capt. Henry C. Mustin, a pioneer naval aviator who had died in the service. Henry Mustin, he said, was one of the few men in aviation who combined vision and imagination with practical judgment. It was the latter quality that Mitchell lacked; Mustin had had them all. Before he died he had drawn up a detailed plan for the organization of naval aviation. He had sketched the big carriers with their squadrons flying overhead, their spare planes on deck and the personnel listed down to the last ordinary seaman. That sketch now lay in his safe in BUAERO. When we got back there, I was to get hold of Du Bose, his Financial Division head, and help work out estimates of the cost of creating such a force. We should spread this over a five-year period—make a five-year procurement program for naval aviation.