Cover design by Laszlo L. Bodrogi - DTICNational Defense University Press Publications To increase general knowledge and inform discussion, NDU Press publishes books on subjects relating

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For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing OfficeWauhington, DC 20402

THE AIRCAMPAIGN

Planning for Combat

John A. Warden III

With an introduction byCharles L. Donnelly, Jr.

1988

National Defense University PressFort Lesley J. McNair

Washington, DC

National Defense University Press Publications

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Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Warden, John A., 1943-The air campaign.

Bibliography: p.Includes index.

1. Air warfare. 2. Military planning. 3. Military history, Modern-20th century.I. Title.UG630.W359 1988 358.4'14 88-19556

First printing, August 1988Second printing, May 1989Third printing, December 1991

VI

Contents

Illustrations Xii

Foreword xvPreface xviiAcknowlegments xxiIntroduction by Charles L. Donnelly, Jr. xxiii

The Air Campaign in Prospect 3The Levels of War-Lack of CoherentOperational Doctrine-Two Levelsnearly Merge in Central Europe-"Center of Gravity" Useful inPlanning-Single Arms can Prevail

1. Air Superiority-The Concept 13Air Supremacy Allows OperationsAnywhere- Air Superiority Crucial toSuccess-The Five Cases of War-Infrastructure Essential

2. Offense or Defense-The Chess Game 25Emphasize Defense, or Concentrateon Offense- Two Examples of AirDefenses-Phasing Important toDefense-MacArthur Sought AirSuperiority- Kenney ExploitedJapanese Doctrine- MisplacedContempt can Lead to Errors-Indirect Feint can be Effective

3. Offensive Operations 39War can be Won from the Air-"Equipment Chain" must be

ix

Evaluated-Obvious Choice OftenWorst One-Patience, Persistence arethe Keys-Flight Crews are PreciousResource-Command is True Centerof Gravity- Ethnocentricity should beAvoided-Hansell Urges StrategicBombing in Pacific-Israelis Capitalizeon Weaknesses in Syrian Doctrine

4. Defensive Operations 65Doctrine may Influence theSituation- Mass must be Available tothe Attacker- Damage is Key to NotLosing-Loss Ratios CreatePhenomenon-The More Warning, theBetter

5. Limited Options 77Options Depend on the Enemy-Mobility can Win the Battle-CandidAdvice Needed

6. Air Interdiction 83In Retreat-Static Defense Against anEnemy Offensive-OffensiveOperations on Both Sides-OffensiveOperations Against a Static Defense-Against a Retreating Enemy-AgainstSelf-Sufficient Forces

7. Close Air Support 101Close Air Versus Interdiction-GroundCommanders are in Charge-Close AirTurns Back Massive Russian Attack-BadWeather can Limit Close Air Support

8. Reserves 115Reserves may Help Better the Odds-Shock Value of Reserves is Valuable-Sortie not Flown is not a Sortie Lost-Reserves Won the Battle of Britain-

I

Reserves can be Applicable to AirOperations-War Efforts Come inSurges

9. The Orchestration of War 129Political, Military Objectives areRelated- Theater Commander'sPosition is Unique- "Liberatorinstead of Destroyer"'-"Radical" Ideasmay be Opposed-Center of Gravitymust be Identified-Air Seen asSupporting Arm-Broad Front, orIndirect Approach-Sea Forces Easiestto Choose or Reject-Air may be KeyForce

10. Planning the Air Campaign 153Enemy's Plans may be Anticipated-Statistics Favor the Side that Mo%,esFirst-Center of Gravity may not beReachable--"Throw Everything at theGround"-Three Categories ofInterdiction-'"Mystify, Mislead,Surprise"- Reserves-To Have or HaveNot

The Air Campaign in Retrospect 169Two Ends of the Scale-Numbers areImportant-Reserves a New Subject-War is Baffling, Intriguing

Endnotes 173Selected Bibliography 183Index 187The Author 193

xi

Illustrations

Photographs

Air-to-air view of two F-15 Eagles Frontispiece

D-Day landing operations 9

C-47 takes off for Buna front in New Guinea campaign 32

German ME 109s roar over English Channel 43B-24s use North African base for historic Ploesti raid 45British Spitfires show their US Army Air Forces

markings 48B-52 Stratofortress maneuvers during a joint exercise 52B-25 of Doolittle raid carries war to Japan 57B-29 uses Saipan for launching point toward Tokyo 62

B-17s take part in bombing raid over Berlin 72

KC-135R tanker gets ready to refuel an F-16 98

B-26 Marauder covers the June 1944 D-Day landings 111A-10 Thunderbolt II "Tank Buster" banks to the right 113

B-17 Flying Fortress unloads bombs over Berlin 130B-24 skims over nesting goonie birds on Midway

Island 141B-25 Mitchell takes bombing run over Boram Field,

Wewak 144B-24s bomb harbor installations at Dunkirk, France 150

xii

(Jencral Chinna-lult hosts inspection o( his HQ unit inihina 1)4

f- II airdrops 24 Mark-28 Iow-draq bombs Endpiece

Tables

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xiii

Foreword

In the short history of air warfare, no nation with superiorair forces has ever lost a war to the force of enemy arms. Airsuperiority by itself, however, no longer guarantees victory.This book, one of the first analyses of the pure art of planningthe aerial dimension of war, explores the complicated con-nection between air superiority and victory in war.

In The Air Campaign, Colonel John A. Warden III focuseson the use of air forces at the operational level in a theater ofwar. The most compelling task for the theater commander, heargues, is translating national war objectives into tactical plansat operational levels. He presents his case by drawing on fas-cinating historical examples, stressing that the mastery ofoperational-level strategy can be the key to winning futurewars. Colonel Warden shows us how to use air power moreeffectively-through mass, concentration, and economy offorces-because, he warns, the United States no longer holdsan edge in manpower, production capacity, and technology.

Simply put, an air force inferior in numbers must fightbetter and smarter to win. This book offers planners greaterunderstanding of how to use air power for future air cam-paigns against a wide variety of enemy capabilities in a widevariety of air operations. As the reader will see, the classicprinciples of war also apply to air combat. One of the author'simportant contributions is to demonstrate that perception tothose whose grave responsibility one day may be to plan andcarry through a victorious air campaign.

Bradley C. HosmerLIEUTENANT GENERAL, US AIR FORCE

PRESIDENT, NATIONAL DEFENSEUNIVERSITY

xv

Preface

The Air Campaign is an attempt to come to grips with thevery complex philosophy and theory associated with air war atthe operational level. This book is for combat officers of anyService who might find themselves on an operational-levelstaff. More specifically, it is for the air officer who wants tothink about air campaigns before called on to command orstaff one. It is devoted to how and why air power can be usedto attain the military objectives needed to win a war.

What this book is not is quite important also.This book is not about tactics and does not address how

to bomb a target. It is not technical and does not address spe-cific weapon systems. It is not specific to any particular airforce and thus does not address directly any of the variousdisputes over doctrine that are common in many air forces.Likewise, it avoids using terms that recently have come intovogue but are still too esoteric to be widely understood orusable.

As a consequence, older words like "front" are used,rather than more specific ones such as "forward line oftroops." My belief is that the more general term better con-veys the image needed for a conceptual discussion at theoperational level.

Two other areas not addressed in this book are the usesof space and nuclear weapons.

With respect to the use of nuclear weapons, one eitherbelieves that their use cannot be squared with any rationalview of war, or one believes that they are in some casesusable in consonance with traditional ideas. I have not dis-cussed space operations primarily because the operational-level commander at present has no direct control of spaceassets. In the near future, man certainly will spread outthrough the solar system. If war goes with him, the principles

xvii

xviii The Air Campaign/Warden

should not change significantly, although the concepts ofdepth and time may become more important than everbefore.

Technologies change with great rapidity; consequently,any book on air warfare that went into depth on particulartechnologies would become dated very quickly. I believe thatoperational-level commanders must first master the basic phi-losophy and principles of warfare. Only then can they makecurrent or new technologies their servant. If they try toreverse the process, they will be unable to set a course andwill be driven haphazardly by every change in the storms oftechnical development.

On the horizon at the end of the 1980s are exciting pos-sibilities for directed-energy weapons and for short- tomedium-range ballistic missiles armed with conventional ord-nance. Either or both-or something as yet undreamed-maybecome quite important, but only because they allow greaterconcentration of power or increased mobility. Successfulemployment will depend on using new systems in conso-nance with principles outlined in this book.

The reader also will note that this book includes little dis-cussion of aircraft carrier-based air power. The lack of discus-sion was not meant to denigrate carrier air power by anymeans; indeed, in any conceivable major war fought by theUnited States, aircraft carriers will be a necessary part of theoffensive needed to win the war. However, since this book ismeant to be a guide to the use of air power, as opposed to ahistory of it, exampies from land-based air seem sufficient toillustrate my observations.

The theory at the operational level should be the same,regardless of the point from which aircraft or missiles launch.

As the time since the last war lengthens, military institu-tions tend to focus increasingly on future strategies and theforce structure needed to support them. Such a focus is nec-essary, but plans for fighting a future war with future forcestructure should not be confused with plans for fighting a warthat might start tomorrow. Forces currently in the inventorywill be necessary to use for the latter, although campaignplans for long wars can take into account new equipment thatmay be produced within the time span of the war.

Preface xix

In essence, however, operational-level theory is not con-cerned with developing future force structure: It is quintes-sentially concerned with using what is available.

The Air Campaign is, very simply, a philosophical and the-oretical framework for conceptualizing, planning, and execut-ing an air campaign. To the extent that it assists any plannersin arranging their thoughts-before they are in the thick ofbattle-it will have achieved its ends.

Acknowledgments

My special thanks to Colonel Roger P. Fox, US Air Force,my military history professor at the Air Force Academy, and toDr. Frederick H. Hartmann, my grand strategy professor atTexas Tech University.

Thanks also to Colonel Michael D. Krause, US Army, myresearch paper sponsor while I was at the National War Col-lege, for his encouragement and help with The Air Campaign.

IntroductionBy Charles L. Donnelly, Jr.

This book is the start of something very important-itintegrates historical experience into a clear, visionary set ofconclusions and guidelines for using air forces to achieve stra-tegic goals in a war. This book is exceptional, because it is thefirst book that thoroughly covers the area between the selec-tion of national objectives and tactical execution at the wingand squadron operations levels.

A book of this type has been needed for a long time.Centuries of land warfare passed before writers like Sun

Tzu succeeded in capturing for readers the essence of successin war. We are fortunate, only decades after airplanes firstwere used in combat, to have a coherent synthesis of histor-ical experience that is both consistent with history and pre-scriptively useful for future employment of air power.

. Colonel Warden does not write about tactics or specificweapons, nor does he rely on a specific war. But he does tellus how to use air power most effectively. It is a book aboutart-operational art-as it should be practiced by an air com-ponent commander, and it ties directly to the enduring princi-ples of war.

The principles of war, so eloquently discussed by Carlvon Clausewitz in his famed book, On War, are the same forboth army and air forces. Why, then, does an air force need aspecial analysis? What will be reaffirmed after reading The AirCampaign is that the speed and range of air forces pose spe-cial problems and offer special advantages that center aroundthe principles of mass and concentration and their corollary,economy of force. Colonel Warden's book provides insightful

General Charles L. Donnelly, Jr. (USAF-Ret.) was Commander in

Chief of US Air Forces in Europe from November 1984 to May 1987.

xxiv The Air Campaign/Warden

discussion of such crucial topics as the commander's choiceof an offensive or defensive orientation, the requirement forair superiority, the influence of ground-based defenses, andthe intriguing new idea of air reserves.

The Air Campaign makes it clear that the air commanderfrequently will have a choice between offense and defense.An air force on the defensive faces greater risk to itself andthe total war effort than an air force on the offensive. A spe-cial feature throughout this offense versus defense discussionis an enumeration of the best choices in all the warfighting sit-uations in which air commanders could find themselves-inferior forces, superior forces, guerrilla war, theater war, andeven the danger of a massive enemy breakthrough on theground. Also answered is the question of whether air forcefighter defenses are better when spread to defend large areasor when concentrated, leaving some areas less well defended.

Whatever the choices for offense or defense, the air cam-paign cannot succeed until air superiority is achieved.

We consistently tout air superiority as our number onepriority. While this thought seems logical to airmen who liveand breathe air power, it sometimes is difficult to convinceothers of this fundamental doctrine. This book offers a con-vincing argument on the need for air superiority. It alsoprovides a balanced analysis of air power's other roi's in sup-porting the joint force commander-including taking the stingout of opposing air defenses, ground or air.

Enemy ground-based air defenses are targets that will bedefeated at times and places of our choosing. Any ground-based air defense system has vulnerabilities that reduce itsstrength. For example, it is never equally strong throughoutits length and breadth, it has flanks, it is immobile comparedwith air power, and it is normally oriented toward a specificthreat. These vulnerabilities can be exploited in a well-planned air campaign. And because the vulnerabilities are nottechnological, but inherent in the concept, a ground-basedsystem never will be able to stand alone against the unpre-dictable shock and violence of concentrated air attacks.

One way to increase the concentration of air attacksagainst any set of targets is to retain some air power to meetthe unexpected-whether providential or disastrous. Errorsare made on both sides in war, and reserves of air power

IntroductionlDonnelly xxv

permit exploitation of enemy errors, or they can be directedinto the breach against an enemy attempt to exploit our mis-takes. This concept of an air reserve rounds out this thought-ful book of operational-level art, providing the reader with afinal technique to plan air campaigns against a wide range ofenemy capabilities.

After finishing this book, the reader will realize that plan-ning an air campaign is an art, because the fundamental deci-sions that will win or lose an air campaign depend on thelogical thinking of the human computer. Detailed operationsresearch techniques and probabilities are necessary inputs toour planning process. But Colonel Warden will lead you back,recharging your belief in fundamental logical tools that can beapplied at first by skilled airmen, with sophisticated math tak-ing a proper role of backup and verification.

It is possible for an air force to have absolutely superiorforces-numerically and qualitatively-and lose not only theair war but the entire war. I strongly recommend The AirCampaign, because it provides the air commander the intel-lectual wherewithal needed not only to avoid losing, but towin.

The Air

Campaign

Planning for Combat

The Air Campaignin Prospect

THINKING ABOUT %VAR AND HOW TO FIGHT it is an Im-mensely difficult undertaking, because war is the mostcomplex of human endeavors. Because it is so complex,it must be broken into component parts that can beexamined, studied, and used. Clearly, war can be bro-ken down in a number of ways.

Wars are big and small, limited or unlimited,nuclear or nonnuclear, geographically confined orworldwide. Although these divisions are useful, they donot give a very good basis for planning or directingoperations, because they are still too encompassing.From this standpoint, it becomes more useful to breakwar down into parts that are related to decreasing levelsof responsibility.

THE LEVELS OF WAR The four levels of war dis-cussed here include grand strategic, strategic, opera-tional, and tactical.

0 The grand strategic level of war is the place wherethe most basic but most consequential decisions aremade. Here, a country determines whether it will par-ticipate in a war, who its allies and enemies will be, andwhat it wants the peace following the war to look like.In World War II, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, BritishPrime Minister Winston S. Churchill, and Soviet PremierJosef Stalin were arbiters of the grand strategy thatlargely dictated the military strategy of the states oppos-ing the German-Italian-Japanese Axis.

3

4 The Air Campaign/Warden

0 The strategic level of war concerns the overallconduct of the war, the approximate forces that will bemade available, and the weights of effort in various the-aters. To illustrate, the decision to emphasize Europe,rather than the Pacific, in World War II was a strategicdecision. Similarly, the decision that Germany would bedefeated by land invasion, rather than by blockade or airattack, was strategic. General George C. Marshall, USArmy Chief of Staff, and British Field Marshal Sir AlanFrancis Brooke were chief architects of American andBritish strategy in this conflict. Twenty years later, thedecision to limit the number of men and aircraft avail-able for use in Vietnam was a strategic decision, as wasthe decision to limit the air campaign over North Viet-nam.

* The operational level of war is the next levelbelow strategic. It is primarily concerned with how toachieve the strategic ends of the war with the forcesallotted. It is the level at which plans are made for'theactual employment of land, sea, and air forces and thelevel where these forces are used in the course of acampaign. Generally, a theater commander is con-cerned with operations, as opposed to strategy. In thissense, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, General DouglasMacArthur, and Admiral Chester W. Nimitz were opera-tional-level commanders (although strategic and evengrand strategic implications certainly were in many ofthe plans they made and the operations they carriedout).

* The lowest level of war is the tactical level. Thislevel is where opposing forces physically meet, whereobjectives are unambiguous-like taking a specific hillwith a company, meeting and sinking an enemy ship, orfighting an aerial battle with an opposing fighter. Theword "unambiguous" is important, because the menresponsible for planning and carrying out tactical move-ments normally are told by higher authority preciselywhat they are supposed to do. This decisionmaking

Air Campaign in Prospect 5

from on high is by no means meant to suggest that car-rying out tactical orders can be done without enormousmental effort; it merely means that the mental effort canbe directed to a reasonably discrete objective, asopposed to the very complex objectives that must beselected and addressed at the operational and strategiclevel.

Many books have been written on the strategic levelof war; indeed, one of the most famous and most usefulis On War, written a century and a half ago by the Prus-sian strategist Carl von Clausewitz. Likewise, numerousbooks are available on the tactical level; in fact, themajority of war books are really at this level. Most workson submarine warfare, for example, or aerial combat,naval engagements, and infantry attack are concernedwith the tactics of man against man.

Surprisingly-or perhaps not-almost nothing hasbeen written since the immediate post-World War IIperiod that deals with theory and practice at the opera-tional level, especially for air warfare.,

What reasons can explain the absence of works onthe art of conducting an operational level campaign?

First, it is a difficult area to address. One can dis-cuss strategy with broad gestures across a map of theworld, and tactics are something with which many havehad direct experience either in war or in training.

Second, after World War II, nuclear weaponscreated a certain feeling that they had made the massingof armies, navies, and air forces obsolete. The nearsimultaneous rejection of history (especially in theUnited States) as the peacetime soldier's only windowon war further pushed the operational level of war intothe category of the arcane. When the last of the officerswith high command or staff experience from World WarII and Korea retired from active duty, a whole body ofhard-won knowledge was lost.


LACK OF COHERENT OPERATIONAL DOCTRINEThough eclipsed, operational thinking remained essen-tial, and genuine understanding of it remained vital.Many of our current problems over the uses of thevarious Armed Services stem from a lack of coherentdoctrine on how they should be used individually andcollectively in an operational campaign to secure somestrategic end. This book is an attempt to fill that gap andto provide a framework for planning and executing aircampaigns at the operational level.

In the belief that history is the only laboratory thatwe have in peacetime to develop and try theories ofwar, this book draws heavily on the last half century ofair warfare. It uses examples from victor and vanquishedalike-frequently, the better lessons are those learnedin the aftermath of defeat. It tries to distill the lessonsthat can be drawn from many campaigns and many cul-tures. It does not suggest tI,-& a particular stratagem canbe repeated in the future-although some can, givenour short memories. Merely knowing that somethingworked once in the past may give a commander or plan-ner an idea or the confidence to try a similar approach.How many victories-and defeats-came about becausea commander had studied Hannibal's double envelop-ment at Cannae?2

Our focus will be on the employment of air forcesat the operational level in a theater of war. Dependingon the goals of the war, the theater may extend from thefront to the enemy's heartland, as it did for the WesternAllies after the Normandy invasion in World War II.Conversely, the theater may be a relatively isolated area,as in the desert war between Britain and the Axis inNorth Africa prior to November 1942.

In the former case, "strategic" air attacks on theenemy homeland affected operations throughout thetheater and were of great interest to the operationalcommander. On the other hand, in the confined andisolated theater of North Africa, "strategic" attacks on


German industry had little immediate local effect andwere not of significant interest to the operational com-manders on either side.

TWO LEVELS NEARLY MERGED IN WESTERN EUROPEIn Western Europe, the strategic and operational levelsnearly merged. The grand strategic goal was the uncon-ditional surrender of Germany, and the military strategychosen to realize the goal was ground penetration andoccupation of the enemy state. Given that strategy,

The operational commander, General DwightD. Eisenhower, could not establish a bridge-head at Normandy and wait for the Germans tobleed themselves white trying to dislodge it.On the contrary, he had to move forward.Necessarily, he had to use all available meansto reduce the German capability to resist.Although not under his control, for a variety ofreasons, air attacks on petroleum facilities,transportation networks, and power plantshundreds of miles behind the lines had at leastas much to do with eventual success as did themovement of armies on the ground.

Calling air attacks on the enemy heartland "strate-gic," as though they were on some special plane of theirown, unrelated to the rest of the war, can easily confuseUS.

In World War II, the Allied "strategic" bomb-ing campaign had emasculated the Luftwaffeand forced its concentration in the defense ofthe homeland. Thus, the skies above Nor-mandy during the Allied invasion in June 1944were almost completely clear of Germanplanes and the German army had the mostextraordinary difficulties in moving forces to

8 -he Air Carnpai•n/ Warden

the Iront because Allied air forces made move-ment by day virtually impossible.

No doubt the German operational commanders wouldhave liked nothing more than to have the Allied airforces fighting desperately over Britain against a German"strategic" bombing campaign.

The key point in this example is that the strategicand operational levels merged. Operations from thelowest level to the highest are on a continuum and itserves us poorly to compartment them in such a waythat we lose sight of their interrelations.

In North Africa, on the other hand, limited men andmateriel and the general situation (Vichy France nomi-nally controlling and thus protecting the Axis rear) madethe concept of Allied operations relatively simple, atleast until American entry into the theater in November1942. Both sides wanted to destroy the other's groundforces; for the most part, they could only work againsttargets fairly close to the lines. (The exception was Brit-ish interdiction of Axis shipping across the Mediterra-nean.) For the commanders on the ground, air attackson Germany or Britain were of little immediate conse-quence, as they were unlikely to have any timely impacton their campaigns. Therefore, unlike GeneralEisenhower or German Field Marshal Karl von Rundstedtat Normandy, the North African commanders did nothave to concern themselves with "strategic" air opera-tions.

The theater commander should consider all kinds ofoperations that might have an influence on the cam-paign. If the wili of the enemy people is vulnerable, thetheater commander may want to concentrate effortsagainst that target. If the enemy is dependent on exter-nal supply, then some point in the supply chain may bethe key to success. If the enemy is dependent onpetroleum, then destroying petroleum networks may bethe smartest move. In many cases, however, and


tUSAF Pholographic Collection, National Air & space Museum. Smithsonian institution

D-Da'y landing operations on the French coast on 6 Jull. 1944.

especially against a modern, highly resilient industrialpower, there may be no single key; thus, attacking anumber of targets may be necessary-but targets care-fully chosen to affect the enemy's center of gravity.

"CENTER OF GRAVITY" USEFUL IN PLANNING Theterm "center of gravity" is quite useful in planning waroperations, for it describes that point where the enemyis most vulnerable and the point where an attack willhave the best chance of being decisive. The term is bor-rowed from mechanics, indicating a point against whicha level of effort, such as a push, will accomplish morethan that same level of effort could accomplish ifapplied elsewhere. Clausewitz called it the "hub of allpower and movement."'


Every level of warfare has a center, or centers, ofgravity. If several centers of gravity are involved, forcemust be applied to all if the object is to be moved. Per-haps the most important responsibility of a commanderis to identify correctly and strike appropriately enemycenters of gravity. In some cases, the commander mustidentify specific reachable centers of gravity, if he hasneither the resources nor the authorization to actagainst the ultimate centers. In any event, theater opera-tions must be planned, coordinated, and executed withthe idea of defeating the enemy by striking decisiveblows.

The theater commander normally will have at hisdisposal air, sea, and land forces. After identifying theenemy center of gravity, the theater commander mustdecide which, or which combination, of available forcesto use. If he decides to use more than one, he mustassign missions to each participant. In the process, hemust keep an open mind. He must avoid making anautomatic decision that all his available services mustparticipate equally (or conceivably at all), that one is apriori supreme and must be supported by the others,that all must be about the same business at the sametime, or that an enemy action demands a reaction inkind.

Instead, he must realize that the nature and objec-tive of the war, and the nature of the enemy will suggestthe forces needed for success. On some occasions, onearm will suffice, while at other times all three must beused in any of a wide combination of ways. Sometimes,a particular arm may be the only one capable of carryingout a mission normally associated with another. We willdeal with this concept in detail in chapter 10, but let usintroduce the idea now by considering two examples,separated by two millennia, which illustrate the theoreti-cal viability of the idea.

When Alexander the Great embarked on hiscampaign against Persia, the success of his


operation depended on securing control ofthe Mediterranean Sea. Normally, one wouldassign naval forces to this chore, but Alex-ander's fleet was too weak to overcome thePersian fleet and had no prospect of becomingsignificantly stronger. Alexander noted that thecenter of gravity of the Persian fleet was itsshore bases. The center identified, his cam-paign plan was obvious-before plunging intoPersia, he would use his army to seize Persianbases around the Mediterranean littoral(coastal region). He executed the plan anddestroyed Persian sea power without ever win-ning a battle at sea.4

More or less the opposite occurred in the sixteenthand seventeenth centuries, when Spain and Englandvied for world dominance.

The Spanish opted for a land invasion of Eng-land that depended on avoiding or overcom-ing English sea power. The defeat of theSpanish Armada, when it tried to cross theEnglish Channel, wrecked hopes for an inva-sion. On the English side, the options wereeither to invade Spain or destroy her economyby using sea power to isolate her from thesource of her wealth in the Americas. Englandopted for the latter and succeeded.5

SINGLE ARMS CAN PREVAIL Historically, then, sin-gle arms can at times prevail, and that response-orattack-in kind is not always the right thing to do.

Assuming that in a particular theater the best oronly way to defeat the enemy is through destruction (ordisarming through maneuver) of his forces, the questionarises as to which forces must be destroyed and in whatorder. If equipment, doctrine, or will suggest that the


enemy will never use, or effectively use, his air forces,then it would be pointless to expend great effort todestroy them merely because of one's own doctrine. Inthis case, the air arm could immediately find use insome form of interdiction or close air support.

Conversely, if the enemy believed that either his airforce was key to success or that his ability to provide aspecified degree of protection against air attack was aprerequisite to continuing the war, then the primeobjective might well be the attainment of air superiority.As we will see, Japan surrendered after she lost her abil-ity to defend herself against American air power, andthe North Vietnamese accepted a truce under similarcircumstances.

In the next several chapters, we will examine airsuperiority in great detail. We will see the benefits thatflow from attaining it-and the penalties exacted for los-ing it. These chapters, in turn, will lay the base for plan-ning and executing a successful air campaign.

1. Air Superiority-The Concept

AIR SUPERIORITY IS A NECESSITY. Since the German attackon Poland in 1939, no country has won a war in the faceof enemy air superiority, no major offensive has suc-ceeded against an opponent who controlled the air, andno defense has sustained itself against an enemy whohad air superiority. Conversely, no state has lost a warwhile it maintained air superiority, and attainment of airsuperiority consistently has been a prelude to militaryvictory. Itis vital that national and theater commanders,their air component commanders, and their surfacecomponent commanders be aware of these historicalfacts, and plan accordingly.,

To be superior in the air, to have air superiority,means having sufficient control of the air to make airattacks on the enemy without serious opposition and,on the other hand, to be free from the danger of seriousenemy air incursions. Of course, variations exist withinthe category of air superiority.

AIR SUPREMACY ALLOWS OPERATIONS ANYWHEREFor example, air supremacy means the ability to operateair forces anywhere without opposition. Local air superi-ority gives basic air freedom of movement over a limitedarea tor a finite period of time. Theater air superiority,or supremacy, means that friendly air can operate anyplace within the entire combat theater. Air neutralitysuggests that neither side has won sufficient control of

13


the air to operate without great danger. We also have acondition we might call defensive air superiority-inwhich enemy air cannot operate over some part of one'sterritory, and where one's own air force (if one exists) isequally unable to operate against the enemy.

This situation could arise if a state were able tocreate a sufficiently strong ground-based air defensesystem. To date, no ground system has given thisdegree of protection, but it is theoretically possible.

The contention that air superiority is a necessity toensure victory or avoid defeat is based on theory and onan analysis of the last half century of warfare. Theoryalone would suggest that surface warfare cannot possi-bly succeed if the surface forces and their support areunder constant attack by enemy aircraft. And, indeed,the theory is supported by copious historical examples,a few of which should suffice to make the point.

Germany destroyed Poland's air force in thefirst-days of the campaign. From then on, theGermans were able to use their air forces tointerdict, to attack ground troops, and tosoften positions for subsequent movement onthe ground.2

Nine months later, Germany did the samething in France, when the Luftwaffe won airsuperiority in two days. 3

The attack on Russia in June 1941 was a classicexample of seizing air superiority with massive, violentattacks. The Germans capitalized on their air superiorityby moving ground forces unprecedented distances upto the late fall, when weather and failure to follow up onthe initial air victories helped bring the great offensiveto a halt. 4

The attack on Russia had followed, and was a func-tion of, Germany's failure to win the Battle of Britain andthereby establish the air superiority which was a prereq-uisite for invasion.5 The invasion of Russia was the last

Air Superioritv-the Concept 15

instance when Germany was able to establish air superi-ority over an opponent. It was the last strategicoffensive Germany was to make before her own home-land lay devastated and occupied.

On the other side in World War 11, the WesternAllies achieved air superiority before German Field Mar-shal Erwin Rommel's last offensive at Alam Halfa. Rom-mel observed that "anyone who has to fight, even withthe most modern weapons, against an enemy in com-plete control of the air, fights like a savage against amodern European army.",

Rommel subsequently made a similar commentabout the situation in Sicily and in Italy. "Strength onthe ground was not unfavorable to us," Rommel said."It's simply that their superiority in the air and inammunition is overwhelming, the same as it was inAfrica." 7

The value of air superiority was even clearer in theNormandy invasion. Von Rundstedt, the German com-mander in France during the invasion, reported, "TheAllied Air Force paralyzed all movement by day, andmade it very difficult even by night."'

In the summer of 1944, the Allies gained controlover the skies above Germany. By the end of the war,the situation was so bad, because of the incessantbombing permitted by having control of the air, that theGermans had no fuel for their airplanes and onlyenough gas to give a tank enough for it to make oneattack. 9

Lest it be argued that World War II is ancient historyand thus no longer applicable, consider a few casesfrom wars since then.

In Korea, Lieutenant General Nam II, the chief rep-resentative of the North Koreans at the armistice talks,remarked in a moment of candor, "It is owing to yourstrategic air effort of indiscriminate bombing of ourarea, rather than to your tactical air effort of direct sup-port to the front lines, that your ground forces are able


to maintain barely and temporarily their present posi-tion."10

The "indiscriminate bombing" to which GeneralNam II referred was a direct consequence of air superi-ority all the way to the Yalu River.

The Israelis have well illustrated the power of airsuperiority.

In 1967, the Israelis destroyed the Egyptian andSyrian air forces on 5 June and then proceededto lay waste the Egyptian army in the Sinai,where Israeli command of the air had madelife intolerable for the Egyptian soldier."

Six years later, the victors of 1967 paid a terribleprice for not gaining air superiority in the first phase ofthe war. Only after recognizing the need to suppressenemy missile systems-their primary barrier to airsuperiority-were they able to turn the tide of battle andgo on to win the war.' 2

Finally, the North Vietnamese were unable to con-duct a successful conventional offensive as long asAmerican air power was stationed in Indochina. Onlyafter the Americans had left was the the North able tomount a decisive ground offensive into South Vietnam.In this case, South Vietnamese air attempted little andwas easily repulsed by North Vietnamese mobileground-based air defense systems.13

As air played no significant role in the invasion foreither side, the ensuing action was essentially as itwould have been before the era of the aircraft.

AIR SUPERIORITY CRUCIAL TO SUCCESS In affairssuch as war that are only roughly subject to scientificanalysis, and where so much depends on the humanelement, a hypothesis is virtually impossible to prove.

Air Superiority-the Concept 17

However, if one argues that air superiority is crucial tosuccess (as the weight of historical evidence over-whelmingly suggests), then explaining how the opera-tional commander goes about achieving it becomesnecessary.

If air superiority is accepted as the first goal, thenclearly all operations must be subordinated-to theextent required-to its attainment. This observation isnot meant to suggest that no operation be undertakenuntil air superiority is won. It does, however, mean thatno other operation should be commenced if it is goingto jeopardize the primary mission, or is going to useforces that should be used to attain air superiority. Aswith most things, exceptions abound, although when itseems most obvious that the rule should be disobeyed,it is most likely that it should not be.

One may be in such dire straits, brought about per-haps by a surprise attack, that no choice is available butto throw everything into the breach in a desperategamble to buy some time, or to save some strategicallyimportant entity.

The Israelis were faced with this kind of problem in1973, when they were surprised by both the Syrian andEgyptian attacks.

The Egyptian attack was not immediatelythreatening, but the Israelis judged the Syrianattack as very dangerous. The Israeli high com-mand committed aircraft against the Syrianground forces, even though the enemy had defacto defensive air superiority over his ownlines by virtue of his surface-to-air missile sys-tems. As desperate as the ground situationwas, the Israelis quickly realized that theycould not continue to use their air forceagainst the Syrian tanks in the absence of airsuperiority. Consequently, they made the mis-sile fields the primary target, won back air

18 The Air CampaignMarden

superiority, and then brought the full brunt oftheir air force against all elements of the Syrianoffensive.14

We will examine further the theory of theemergency situation in chapter 10, on planning an aircampaign.

While exceptions may exist, they should not bemade the basis of planning. In normal circumstances, airsuperiority is the first and most compelling task. Onenormally thinks of attaining air superiority through acombination of aircraft and surface-to-air missiles orguns. Indeed, these two elements normally will play akey role-but by no means the only role. Army groundforces and naval surface forces can and have mademajor contributions to the air superiority mission. Theircontribution can be even greater if they are consciouslyintegrated into the air superiority campaign. This subjectwill receive expanded treatment in chapter 9, on plan-ning, but for now a few examples will help elucidate theidea.

Hitler, in his Directive #6 For the Conduct of theWar, dated 6 October 1939, noted that the Luftwaffecould not attack England from Germany because ofrange and fuel costs. On the other hand, Hitler noted, ifGermany toccupiedl the Low Countries, "in no doubt,Great Britain could be struck a mortal blow [by the Luft-waffeb" He further saw destruction of the British andFrench ground forces as "the main objective, the attain-ment of which will offer suitable conditions for the laterand successful employment of the Luftwaffe [againstGreat Britain]."

Thus, the seizure of territory to support (and deny)air bases became a ground objective and influenced the

15planning that went into the attack on France.On a much smaller scale, the British launched a

commando raid on a small German bomber unit on theisland of Crete that had destroyed an inordinate amountof shipping. 16

Air Superiority-the Concept 19

Naval forces have reversed traditional roles on morethan one occasion.

In the 1973 Arab-Israeli war, Israeli gunboatsattacked Egyptian surface-to-air missile systemson the Egyptian left flank, to pave the way forIsraeli air force movements through theopened corridor.17

Thinking that air superiority must be obtained bv airmeans alone seriously limits commanders in their questfor victory. Attaining air superiority is not simple ineither concept or execution.

To begin the process, one must necessarily knowthat a variety of circumstances can be available underwhich the air battle is joined, and one must understandone's own position before engaging. Otherwise, onepossibly can fight a battle well planned for the wrongcircumstances. And fighting in the wrong way at thewrong time could well be disastrous.

The following three factors can basically affect an airsuperiority campaign: materiel, personnel, and posi-tion.

* MATERIEL encompasses aircraft, surface-to-airweapons, manufacturing facilities for both, and suppliesnecessary to sustain them. It also includes theinfrastructure necessary for their direct support.

* PERSONNEL primarily means the very highlyskilled people who man combat systems, who have spe-cial talents to begin with, and who require extensivetraining before becoming useful in battle. Pilots andother aircrew members are the most obvious compo-nent of this category.

* POSITION summarizes the relative location andvulnerability of air bases, missile fields, ground battlelines, and infrastructure.

All these factors taken together determine theframework of the battle and the options available tofight it.


The three factors can combine in such an infinitevariety of permutations as to make analysis futile-unless they are deliberately simplified and put in termsunderstandable by the c(,mmander or staff who must dosomething with them.

THE FIVE CASES OF WAR To simplify analysis of theair situation, and to establish a framework for planning,we can divide most wars into one of five cases that aredefined by the relationship hetween the opposing airforces.

In the first case, Case I, both sides have thecapability and will to strike at each other's bases. Thiscase was the situation in the Pacific in the first part ofWorld War II, when both Japanese and Allied forcescould and did strike bases behind each other's lines.

The second case, Case II, occurs when one side isable to strike its enemy anyplace, while the enemy cando little more than reach the front. Case II is typified bythe Grand Alliance of the United States and Great Britainagainst Germany after 1943. From that point on, theAllied air forces were able to attack Germany withoutfear of militarily significant ripostes by the Germans.Case II also suggests that war involves phases. A warthat starts out with a particular air situation may not endwith the same situation prevailing. Phasing will be dis-cussed in subsequent chapters.

Case III is the reverse of Case II and is a dangeroussituation. Here, one side is vulnerable to attack but isunable to reach the enemy. It is the situation in whichBritain found herself during the Battle of Britain. She didnot feel she had the capability to strike the Luftwaffefields in France; thus, for practical purposes, Germanbases were safe during the two months of the battle."'

The fourth case, Case IV, describes the situation inwhich neither side can operate against the rear areasand air bases of the enemy, and in which air action

Air ,Ujper)iortv-lhe Concept 21

therefore is contined to the tront. Case IV is bestillustrated by the Korean War, where the United Statesimposed on itself political constraints which prohibitedoperations against Chinese fields and infrastructurenorth of the Yalu River. The Communists, on the otherhand, were unable to attack American fields effectively.

The last case, Case V, could come about throughmutually agreed political constraints or because neitherside had any air power. For example, proxies ot twogreat powers might meet in a placo where neitherpower chose to provide combat aircraft. Clearly, eitherside could change the rules; thus, it would be useful forparticipants to anticipate that possibility. Similarly, a warbetween two poor countries might not involve any sig-nificant air activitv. Again, though, commanders on bothsides would be prudent to think about what would hap-pen if air forces did arrive.

Table I summarizes the five cases just discussed.Subsequent chapters will deal with each one in detail.

Table 1Air Superiority Cases

Case Blue Air Fields Balile Lines** Red Air Fieldsand Rear Areas* and Rear Areas

I Vulnerable Reachable VulnerableII Sate * Reachable' VulnerableIII Vulnerable Rea( hable SateIV Safe Reachable SafeV Safe Unreachable Sate

*Blue and Red fields encompass supporting infrastructure such aspower, fuel, and command and (ontrol facilities."Normally the ground front, but could be a border."*Safe means that tields are not likelv to be hit either because theenemy is unable to hit them, or chooses not to do so, or the\' areprotected by political constraints.*** When Case II progresses to its logical conclusion, Red will prob-ably be unable to reach even the battle lines.


The five cases discussed here provide an overviewof the situation prevailing at the start of a campaign orphase. The commander or planner needs such an over-view. However, within its context, the commander orplanner must realize that variations in numbers of per-sonnel and materiel support will affect planning signifi-cantly. Table 2 provides a simple matrix of some of thepossible relationships between materiel and skilled per-sonnel.

Air superiority variables will be addressedthroughout this book. But like the air superiority cases,a brief review of historical examples should help tomake the importance of these variables clear.

Illustrating the situation where both sides have hadlimited personnel and materiel are the Arab-Israeli wars,where the presence or absence of outside supply hasaffected the strategy of both sides, and in some wayshas accentuated the importance of mutual limitations.

The British during the Battle of Britain offer a goodexample of the second situation. British aircraft

Table 2

Air Superiority Variables

Skilled Personnel* Materiel**

A Limited** LimitedB Limited UnlimitedC Unlimited LimitedD Unlimited"" Unlimited****

"Skilled personnel include those wFL,: training is long and arduousand who cannot be replaced quic~dv whtn lost. (Pilots, other air-crew, and technicians.)"*Materiel includes aircraft, missiles, manutacturing facilities, andsupporting infrastructure."**Limited and unlimited are relative to the combatants.****Must be evaluated over time. That is, both personnel and mate-riel may be in short supply at the start of hostilities, but may becomeunlimited either through mobilization, inter-theater transfers, or out-side assistance.

Air Superiontry-the Concept 23

production rates outstripped German production by awide margin and also comfortably exceeded loss rates. qHowever, the Royal Air Force was below establishmentin pilots at the start of the conflict, and the training ofnew pilots failed to keep up with losses at the height ofthe battle.2 0

The situation might have been untenable had notthe battle taken place over Britain, where pilots whobailed out of stricken fighters frequently were able to flyagain-in some cases even on the same day.

The United States in the 1980s typifies the third sit-uation, of unlimited pilots and limited aircraft. Whereasthe United States has huge reservoirs of pilots who sawservice in Vietnam and who could be retrained quickly,it has a very fixed number of aircraft and no way tomake fast, militarily significant increases in production.

The situation in which one side has comparativelyunlimited materiel is illustrated by the Russian positionin World War ll-although the Germans certainly didn'tbelieve it or know it until they had been at war with theRussians for two years. The Russians lost nearly 2,000aircraft on the first day of the war-nearly a third of theirtotal air force and about the same number as the Ger-mans had on the entire eastern front.2" The Russian lossrate continued on an unprecedented scale until badweather arrived in October. By mid-1944, however, theRussians had a 6-to-1 advantage over the Germans andseemed to have no problem manning their largearmada. 22

Attaining air superiority means eliminating by onemeans or another enemy forces that can interfere withair operations. As previously noted, air, sea, or landforces can be used to attain air superiority. In very gen-eral terms, two categories of systems can interfere withair operations-that is, block the attainment of air supe-riority. These systems are aircraft, and ground-basedweapons. In support of these weapon systems are


detecting systems (such as radar) and elertronic countermeasure systems that interfere with or fool opposingelectronic systems.

These systems are directly related to combat.

INFRASTRUCTURE ESSENTIAL Not directly related tocombat, but nevertheless essential to it, is theinfrastructure that supports these combat systems. Theinfrastructure ranges from bullets and fuel for the air-craft, to petroleum refineries and the laboratories wherescientists work out countermeasures against the newestelectronic threats. Depending on the situation, winningair superiority may be possible by eliminating one smallpart of the enemy infrastructure. In other cases, launch-ing an all-out assault on virtually every part may be nec-essary.

Regardless of what may be needed to attain airsuperiority, various ways of going about it are available.For example, one might conclude that elimination ofenemy aircraft is the key, but this conclusion does notnecessarily mean that enemy aircraft should be targeteddirectly. The enemy may rarely fly across his own lines,and his side of the lines may be protected by a missilescreen. To fly rashly at the enemy's airfields and aircraftwithout first destroying, suppressing, or circumventingthe missile defenses might turn out to be costly at best,and catastrophic at worst.

Simply, in war the shortest distance to a goal maynot be a direct line.

The central point of this chapter has been the over-whelming importance of air superiority. For the last halfcentury, air superiority inevitably has spelled the dif-ference between victory and defeat. Commanders andtheir staffs must consider air superiority in their plan-ning and execution. The framework for analysis sug-gested in this chapter should make it easier toconceptualize the problem and develop an appropriatescheme for achieving dominance in the air.

2. Offense or Defense-the Chess Game

AIR SUPERIORITY, LVEN WHEN NOT AN [ND IN ITSELF, accom-plishes two things: It permits offensive air operationsagainst any enemy target at a reasonable cost, and itdenies that same opportunity to the enemy. We willstart our examination of how to win air superiority withthe Case I situation in which both sides are equally vul-nerable at the start of the war or phase of operations.

Whichever side tirst wins air superiority will reapsignificant and perhaps overwhelming advantages.

EMPHASIZE DEFENSE, OR CONCENTRATE ON OFFENSEIn very broad terms, two theoretical approaches to win-ning air superiority exist, starting from a mutually vul-nerable position. The first is to put the emphasis ondefending against enemy air, and the second is to con-centrate on offensive operations that will reduce theenemy's air capability directly and force him to devotemore of his resources to defense.

Naturally, some combination of these two extremescan be available; unfortunately, when they are com-bined, the availability of forces and time for both neces-sarily decrease. In fairly close encounters, as Case I warsare likely to be, any decrease in effort, any failure toconcentrate, may be quite dangerous.

The first theoretical possibility is defense, butdefense has associated with it many problems difficultto overcome. First, more than one aircraft normally is

25

26 The Air CampaignI Warden

necessary to destroy one enemy in aerial battle.' Sec-ond, from an air commander's standpoint, defensetends to pass the initiative to the enemy. This passing ofthe initative tends to make defensive concentration diffi-cult, unless bases are positioned for mutual support andthe warning of impending enemy attack is sufficientlylong to allow massing of defensive fighters. Finally,aircraft awaiting enemy attack are not accomplishinganything-they are putting no pressure on the enemy.

Despite problems associated with defense, a pro-posal to deemphasize defense in favor of a strongoffense may be seen as risky and difficult to sell to polit-ical leaders, who are not trained to understand that theeffects of offensive operations might produce gooddefense faster than purely defensive operations. Thisdifficulty happened in World War II, when the Germansbegan using their night fighters to attack Britishbombers as the bombers were taking off and assemblingfor night raids on Germany. The program was showingsome results (although not significant, becauseresources allocated to the mission were too small), butHitler ordered the program abandoned because the Brit-ish bombers shot down over England made no impres-sion on the German people.'

The most serious drawback to defense, however, isthat it is a negative concept-by itself it can lead at bestto a draw, never to a positive result.

The second theoretical possibility is an all-outoffense to gain air superiority. Here, every aircraft capa-ble of crossing the lines is sent out on missionsdesigned to crush the enemy's offensive capability.(Suppression of air and ground-based defenses may benecessary before attacking systems supporting offensiveair.)

An offensive approach has many advantages. Itkeeps the initiative and forces the enemy to react. It car-ries the war to the enemy. It makes maximum use of air-craft and keeps great pressure on the enemy. Finally,

Offense or Defense-the Chess Game I-

assuming the offensive operations are against an appro-priate center of gravity, collateral damage probably willbe inflicted on facilities that would be attacked in thenext phase of operations.

Whenever possible, the offensive course should beselected-if for no other reason than that it is a positivemeasure that will lead to positive results.

The power of the offense notwithstanding, a varietyof reasons exists why adopting the defense may besound, despite its inherent limitations. Under some cir-cumstances, a successful defence will lead the enemv toconclude that further offensive operations are toocostly. Some chance even exists that he will decide toabandon the whole war effort. Before depending onsuch an outcome, however, one needs to be very surethat the enemy's military and political will has been cor-rectly read, and that one has the strength needed totake a sufficient toll from the enemy before the enemydoes too much damage. Outcomes of this kind havebeen common in land war, but so far only a few exam-ples exist of the same thing in air war.

TWO EXAMPLES OF AIR DEFENSE The first instanceof a successful air defense was the British parry of theGerman air offensive against Britain in the summer andfall of 1940. The British succeeded in exacting a greatenough price from the Germans that the Germans aban-doned the air offensive and the planned follow-upcross-Channel invasion.

The second example, and one less clear, is thedefense the North Vietnamese put up against the Ameri-can air offensive. The North Vietnamese managed tohold on long enough to exhaust the political will ot theAmerican people, even though the American air forcehad proved its ability to lay waste the country in the 1972air offensives. This example demonstrates the necessityto read the enemy will correctly. Had the North Viet-namese misread American will, they would have paid a

28 The Air CampaignlWarden

terrible price: The Americans had the capability to dowhatever they chose to do from the air.

One also might adopt the defensive because ofsome anticipated change in the near future. Perhaps anew ally will sign on if the initial defense is successful.Perhaps equipment in significantly greater quantitieswill be available to permit a better defense or anoffense. Perhaps a defense will allow time to build areserve for an offensive or counteroffensive operation.Of course, in thinking about this possibility, it is impera-tive to keep in mind that the key word is "perhaps." If"perhaps" does not materialize, then the situation maybe beyond recovery.

In other words, the commander who adopts thedefense for these reasons is betting heavily on a futurethat might not happen as he thinks it will. If no choiceexists whatsoever, then the commander must do thebest he can. At the same time, however, he must makecontingency plans for what he will do if the new allydoes not join the cause, if the new aircraft does notarrive, or if the reserve is destroyed by enemy action orby higher military or political authority in his own coun-try.

The latter happened to the Luftwaffe on at least twooccasions during World War II. Adolph Galland, thenGeneral of the German Fighter Forces, received a com-mitment from Hitler to hold back new production offighters and training of pilots to mount one mightycounterstroke against American daylight bombers.Hitler, however, reneged twice on the promise-oncefor a futile riposte against the Normandy invasion, andagain, equally futile, in support of the 1944 Ardennesoffensive.

4

This subject will be covered later from a differentperspective in the chapter on reserves, chapter 8.

PHASING IMPORTANT TO DEFENSE The last reasonthat may support a defense is phasing. The commander

I)ttensw (r L)etense--he ( hess (;ame 29

may have reason to believe that he can do enoughdamage to the enemy through defensive operations tomake an offensive more likely to succeed. No examplesstand out to illustrate this approach in air war, althoughit has been done on some occasions, with great success,in land war.

One of the most notable examples was the Germandecision to go on the detensive in the east in 1914, allowthe Russians to penetrate into East Prussia, and then goon an oitensive which (Lulminated in the annihilation otthe Russians at Tannenberg. The fact that it has not beendone in air war does not mean that it can't be done. Intheorv, the idea of pulling quantities of the enemy into a

position where he can be badly hurt has great appeal.On the negative side is the possibility that the enemywill do more damage than expected with his offensiveand therebv make the counteroffensive less likely towork.

\Vhile acknowledging the possible utility of thedefensive, the operational commander should want togo on the otfensive at the earliest opportunity for rea-sons already stated. He must plan a specific course ofaction. Some of what he does will be a function of hisown strength and that of the enemy and of relativegeography. Let us see how General Douglas MacArthurand General George Kennev converted a dangerous sit-uation in the Pacific into a decisive victor\y byemphasizing the offensive and air superioritv.

MacArthur had suffered grievouslv after the Jap-anese won air superiority in the Philippines. Conversely,he saw what had happened to the Japanese when theytried three offensive operations without first establish-ing land-based air superiority.

0 The first came when the Japanese tried to send aconvoy to Port Moresby on the south coast of NewGuinea. The convoy was met by American aircratt car-riers that did enough damage to the convoy's protectingforces to induce the Japanese commander to withdraw.


* In the second case, the Japanese tried to make anoverland offensive across the Owen Stanley mountainstoward Port Moresby without air support or air superi-ority. Relatively small Australian ground forces andAmerican air forces were able to stop the offensive andthrow it back with heavy losses to the enemy.

* The third instance was an attempted Japaneselanding at Milne Bay at the east end of New Guinea.Again, American air and Australian ground forcesdecisively defeated the Japanese, who were essentiallyunprotected by their own air.

Finally, MacArthur concluded that the Japanese hadbeen able to fight so effectively on Guadalcanal onlybecause the US Navy had been tardy in completing Hen-derson Field on Guadalcanal. Had the field been com-pleted early in the campaign (as it could have been),aircraft operating from it would have presented the Jap-anese with a much more difficult problem.)

MACARTHUR SOUGHT AIR SUPERIORITY Follow-ing his early New Guinea experiences, MacArthur grad-ually came to the conclusion that his operations had tohave as their primary goal the attainment of air superi-ority. 6 This conclusion is not meant to say that Mac-Arthur thought that air superiority in and of itself wouldwin the war-he was convinced that only an armyassault on Japan would do that. He did, however,believe that winning air superiority was the key to posi-tioning himself for that assault.

After deciding that air superiority was the objectiveof his intermediate campaigns,

MacArthur, aided by his air component com-mander, General Kenney (who had played akey role in leading MacArthur to this conclu-sion), inverted the established order of things,and used his ground forces as an adjunct to airin his quest for air superiority over the

Offense or Defense-the Chess Game 31

Japanese. From 1943 to the eve of the invasionof Japan, and with only one exception, Mac-Arthur used his ground forces primarily toseize bases from which air forces could extendthe bomb line.

How did Kenney and MacArthur prosecute their air cam-paign?

American pilots and aircraft had started thewar against Japan inferior to the enemy. But bythe middle of 1942 they were on at least a parwith the Japanese. Therefore, the possibilityexisted of an aerial war of attrition. Althoughair battles were important to the final out-come, Kenney worked on the thesis that thebest and cheapest place to destroy !he enemywas on the ground. He switched from thedefensive strategy of his predecessor, Lt. Gen.George H. Brett, to a highly offensive cam-paign within three days of arrival in theater.7

General Kenney's goal was to find and destroyenemy aircraft on the ground. Supporting this mainobjective were aerial combat missions and attacks onthe logistic system that provided fuel, food, medicine,and spare parts to the enemy. The key was the avail-ability of ground forces to seize and hold air bases, fromwhich deeper operations could be conducted. His mainprinciples were concentration and persistence. Kenneybelieved in mounting the largest possible raids againstenemy positions and in attacking persistently until theywere reduced to impotence."

He also was a master of surprise and deceit. Thecampaign against Wewak illustrates his genius.

In the early phase of the Allied campaign to take lap-anese positions on the Huon Peninsula (Lae, Finschafen,and Salamuau), the Japanese moved a large number of

32 The Air Campayn'Wlvarden

AiL

L AF ( ( ?I ... Nli)fj1 -N,' I ' Muld a ' ..l...U.l1 nrilh.,~,nitn flwlun

Douglas C-47 transport takes off for the Buna front during the Papua,New Guinea, campaign early in 1943.

aircraft to their big base at Wewak, some 400 miles westof the Huon Peninsula and out of range of Kennev'sfighters.9 If air superiority were to be maintained andextended, Kenney thought that reduction of Wewak wasnecessary. He couldn't do it, however, with unescortedbombers. His plan to solve the problem was brilliant.

Using special overland troops and paratroops,General Kenney started construction of twofake airfields relatively close to the Japanesepositions on the Huon Peninsula. At thesefields, he deliberately created clouds of dustso that the Japanese would see the con-struction activity. They responded appropri-ately by periodically bombing the fields andapparently preventing occupation by Americanair units.

( )fftui',c nr I)ct'tL'f --ihth Ch(ess, Game 33

Simultaneously, at Tsilli Tsilli, some 50 milesfurther inland, Kenney started construction ofthe real airfield. He managed to move fightersinto it before the Japanese discovered its exist-ence. He then quickly mounted a mass attackon Wewak with his bombers that could nowbe escorted by the fighters flying out of TsilliTsilli. He took the Japanese by surprise,because they were sure that Wewak wasbeyond range of American fighters and there-fore could not be attacked in strength. In twodays of mass raids with nearly 200 aircraft ineach attack, he won the decisive air battle ofthe southwest Pacific by destroying more than200 Japanese aircraft.10

Of even greater importance, Kennev started theprocess that would shortly break the back of the Jap-anese Army Air Force. His forces killed so many pilotsand technicians that the enemy became unable tomount serious opposition, even though he had plentyof aircraft-but aircraft that could not be flown or main-tained.1

KENNEY EXPLOITED JAPANESE DOCTRINE Whileoperations against Wewak were taking place, the Ameri-can air forces also were conducting, in conjunction withthe Navv, intensive attacks against Japanese shipping.These attacks greatly exacerbated the problems the Jap-anese had with supply and maintenance.' 2

The Japanese could have done to Kennev what hedid to them. Why didnt the\v? Part of the reason lay withtheir doctrine- something Kennev exploited to the hilt.The Japanese seemed committed to piecemeal rein-forcement. At Wewak, at Rabaul, and at Truk thev habit-ually committed small numbers of arriving aircraft insuch a way that they could do little to influence the bat-tle. As Kenney put it, the Japanese "did not know how

34 The Air CamrpaignIWo,?'en

to handle large masses of aircralt. He made piecemealattacks and didn't follow them up.""'

The Japanese reinforced failure, while the Ameri-cans concentrated on success. The lesson learned fromthe futile commitment in small numbers of aircraftnewly arrived in the theater may be one of the mostimportant in the war. It will be addressed in greaterdetail in chapter 8, which is devoted to reserves. TheJapanese seemed unable to learn from their errors. T-,.eywere taken by surprise at Wewak because they thoughtit was out of range. Less than a year later, they sufferedthe same fate for the same reason at Hollandia. 14

Early in the war, the United States made the mistakeof committing forces before they were sufficientlytrained or numerous. A strategic bombing survey of thePacific air campaign reported that American air com-manders frequently "failed to saturate enemy air defen-sive capabilities, resulting in a high loss rate and abombing effort ineffective both in accuracy and inweight of effort.""s

Unlike the Japanese, however, the Americanslearned the lesson and emphasized concentration andmass. The American air attacks became more successful.Additionally, the large raids so saturated enemydetenses that American loss rates were typically quitelow. As an example, in the 17 August 1943 attack onWewak, in which the Japanese lost 150 aircraft on theground alone, the Americans suffered no combat losses.Mass and concentration pay!

Ground-based defenses were not significant in thePacific war. They were significant (in the sense that theycould not be ignored), however, in the Arab-Israeli bat-tles of the seventies and eighties and in the Americanwar against North Vietnam. They also undoubtedly willexist in great numbers in any future wars between wellequipped opponents. The air commander must deter-mine how much a threat to offensive operations theypresent, whether they must be given priority attention

()ttense or lctense-the Chess Game 3i

and be phvsicallv attacked, or whether they can be sup-pressed electronically while the air offensive continues.

Like many' things in war, the answer to these ques-tions mav not be obvious.

In 1973, the Israelis reacted on the Syrian andSinai fronts much as they had in the 1967 war.That is, they assumed that they would easilyovercome the enemy antiaircraft missiles andfly with acceptable loss rates directly againstattacking ground forces."6

How did a country widely admired for the efficiencyof its intelligence service make such a grievous error?

MISPLACED CONTEMPT CAN LEAD TO ERRORSThe key factor that led to this error was the contemptthe Israelis felt for their opponents because of the 1967and War ot Attrition victories. Misplaced contempt forthe enemy is not uncommon: The Germans greatlyunderestimated the British and the Russians in WorldWar II, the United States prior to Pearl Harbor thoughtthe Bipanese incompetent, and the US Navy discountedthe air defense capabilities of the Palestine LiberationOrganization in the ill-fated retaliatory raids in Lebanonin 1983.

Such errors are easv to make, but they are not for-givable. How can they be avoided?

The first step in assessing an enemy is a very carefulreview of intelligence information, followed by dispas-sionate war gaming, followed by more intelligence col-lection and analysis, followed by more war gaming, untithe answer is relatively certain or the time has come toact on best available information. This cycle-and thenecessity for dispassionate consideration of enemycapabilities-applies universally.

If the commander decides that ground-baseddefenses are so significant that operations above or

36 The Air Campaign'Warden

around them are impossible or too costly, he must neu-tralize them. Neutralization can be accomplishedthrough destruction of key parts of the system, throughelectronic suppression of key parts, through adequatedisruption of the system's command and control, orthrough isolating the system from its source of supply.Of course, a number of these approaches can be com-bined. Operations against an air defense system are verycomplex; however, as in other aspects of war, somegeneral procedures have wide application.

In broad terms, a ground-based air defense systemhas certain characteristics. It is finite and normally hasflanks. It has some directional orientation, based onexpected routes of enemy attack. It is rarely equallystrong throughout its width and depth, and some areasmay be very heavily defended while other areas are onlylightly covered. And finally, it is not mobile in theaterterms: Although it may be tactically mobile, to theextent that a battery that was one place yesterday maybe a few miles away tomorrow, moving large numbersof systems significant distances in short periods of timeto fill gaps blasted in some other part of the line gener-ally is not possible. These characteristics suggest cam-paigns against the system based on flank attacks,penetration and exploitation, or systematic reductionfrom front to rear.

The Israelis used a combination of flank andpenetration attacks very successfully in the1973 war. Their missile boats hit the north endof the Egyptian missile line at about the sametime that Generil Sharon crossed the canaland destroyed several batteries by groundattack. The Egyptian line was breached andflanked, and the Israelis then were able to iso-late and destroy individual batteries with rela-tive impunity. 17

Offense or Defense-the Chess Game 37

By knocking a hole in the middle, and by taking outa flank, the batteries no longer were mutually support-ing. They were engaged and defeated in detail.

On the northern front,

The Israelis conducted operations designed tostop the flow of missiles to the Golan battlearea and force the Syrians to disperse theirdefenses well behind the lines. To accomplishthe former, the Israeli air forces went aroundthe flank of the Syrian lines to strike at missilestorage areas and transportation nets. For thelatter, they attacked economic and political tar-gets in Syria.

These targets had little military value in a short war, butattack on them produced the expected reaction-theSyrians panicked and devoted missiles and aircraft totheir protection, when the missiles and aircraft shouldhave been used at the front.'8

INDIRECT FEINT CAN BE EFFECTIVE This feint isanother example of the indirect approach being themost effective.

A ground-based defense system must be com-manded and controlled. If the command and controlcenters can be identified and destroyed, the whole sys-tem becomes much easier to defeat in detail. Unfor-tunately, these centers normally are well behind thelines and well proiected-although it should not auto-matically be assumed that their physical protection issignificant. The Germans, for example, failed to makeconcerted attacks against the British sector control sta-tions, because they thought them to be underground.In fact, they were above ground in flimsy buildings.'9 Ifthe command and control centers cannot be reacheddirectly, a worthwhile approach may be to attack theirsensors. We will examine command and control in moredetail in the next chapter.


In this chapter, we discussed the choice between anoffense and a defense. We have seen how two forcescould confront each other, with each able to strike theother's base areas. In the Pacific war, we saw one sidemake the radical decision to fight a whole offensivecampaign for air superiority. One side was innovativeand determined in concentrating mass on an objective;the other made piecemeal attacks and reinforced piece-meal. The way the Americans won the air war in thePacific (and the way the Japanese lost it) offer valuablelessons to the air commander responsible for fightingthe next war.

Having examined the concepts of defense andoffense, when the commander has a choice, we nowcan explore in detail the pure offense and defense. Wewill start with the offense.

3. Offensive Operations

A COMMANDER MUST UNDERTAKE OFFENSIVE AIR OPERATIONSif the battle is to be carried to the enemy, and if politicalobjectives exist beyond hoping the enemy will stop hisoffensive. It is easiest to envision and discuss offensiveoperations in their pure state, that is, when everythought can be devoted to the offense without concernfor defense.

Case II meets these criteria and is the commander'sdream. His bases are nearly immune from enemy attack,but he can attack all parts of his enemy's structure. TheAnglo-American air offensive against Germany from 1943until the German surrender in 1945 provides the classicexample. The Allied bases in England were practicallysafe from attack, as the Germans had nothing that couldreach them without prohibitive losses.' The same situa-tion applied to Allied bases in France after the Nor-mandy invasion.

Case II provides the opportunity for decisiveaction-action so decisive that the war can theoreticallybe won from the air.

WAR CAN BE WON FROM THE AIR The most likelyreason that one side will have safe bases, while those ofthe opponent are vulnerable, is a lack of proper equip-ment in the opponent's inventory. One side may nothave aircraft that can reach the other's bases. Theenemy may have aircraft with ample range, but may lackthe training or equipment required for such attacks. Hecan find himself in this position either because he neverhad the proper training or equipment to begin with, or

39


because of losses of forward bases or of aircraft duringthe course of the war. The latter suggests a point whichmust be kept in mind: The operational situation canchange during the war itself. What was a correctapproach on day one may be wrong six days, six weeks,or six months later.

In Cases III and IV, courses of action are limited,because the enemy can only be met up to and over thebattle lines. In Case II, however, the commander maydrive directly against the enemy's centers of gravity;thus, the selection of a proper center of gravity againstwhich to direct one's efforts is crucial. The selectionprocess will in part depend on relative strengths. If thecommander has overwhelming superiority in numbers,he perhaps can afford to target virtually every part of theenemy's air system, knowing that he will get the jobdone eventually. With enough numerical superiority,this approach is bound to work (although it may cost farmore than necessary and may take an inordinateamount of time).

As the offensive commander's degree of superioritymoves to equality, and finally to inferiority, the neces-sity for an accurate assessment of the enemy's center ofgravity becomes more crucial. Indeed, if the offense isinferior in numbers, only one course of action may leadto victory. If the commander makes the wrong choice,he may not have another opportunity to win air superi-ority. The classic case of making the right decision andthe right plan was the Israeli attack on the Arab airforces in 1967. The classic example of choosing thewrong center of gravity was the German attack on Brit-ain in 1940. We will look at both in more detail.

The enemy's air center of gravity may lie in equip-ment (numbers of planes or missiles); in logistics (thequantity and resilience of supply support); geography(location and number of operational and support facili-ties); in personnel (numbers and quality of pilots); or incommand and control (importance and vulnerability).

Offensive Operations 41

"EQUIPMENT CHAIN" MUST BE EVALUATED Eachpoint in this equipment chain must be further evaluatedin terms of its position. In other words, reaching everypart of this chain, from manufacture to employment,may not be possible. Refineries may be outside theoperational theater, but pipelines and storage tankswithin it. A careful analysis of enemy doctrine may high-light significant strengths and weaknesses that caneither be exploited or avoided. Let us further considereach of the possible centers of gravity.

The layman tends to associate air superiority withdestruction of enemy aircraft. Although valid, it is notthe only approach. A potentially vulnerable sequence ofevents (the aircraft chain) must take place before an air-craft fires a missile or drops a bomb. Raw materiel mustbe assembled, formed, and moved by some method to amanufacturing plant. At the plant, power from somesource enables workers to put together the aircraft itselfor some subsystem of it. The aircraft, with all its sub-systems, then must be moved to an operational field,where it must be protected from enemy attack while it isbeing prepared for its mission. Finally, it takes to the air.Theoretically, it is possible to eliminate an air force bysuccessful attacks on any point in this chain.

A short look at this aircraft chain will be instruc-tive- keeping in mind that other similarly interdepen-dent systems, such as fuel or pilot training, also can beattacked.

The most difficult and costly place to attack the air-craft chain is in the air. In the aggregate, one friendlyplane can destroy one enemy plane. One pilot in oneairplane may well shoot down more than one enemy air-craft in a single mission, but that is rare. The majority offighter pilots will never down an enemy, although, astechnology improves, the chances of one pilot with oneaircraft accounting for more than one enemy per mis-sion may increase-assuming that countermeasuresdon't improve commensurately. 2

42 The Air Carnpaign/Warden

Going back down the chain from the air leads to air-craft on the ground. Under ideal circumstances, theresults of airfield attack can be impressive. As examples,

The Germans destroyed more than 4,000 Rus-sian aircraft on the ground between 22 and 30June 1941.3 The Germans had less than 1,400bombers and fighters on the entire Russianfront during this period. 4

The Israelis had similar results from theirattacks on Arab air in 1967: With 196 opera-tional combat aircraft, they destroyed almost400 Arab aircraft on the ground in two days.-

The historical experience has been that it is cheaperby far to destroy aircraft on the ground than in the air.Whether circumstances will permit such success,however, is a function of surprise, the state of enemydefenses, and the physical protection given aircraft onthe field. Note that the most famous instances of suchsuccesses have occurred when one side achieved tacti-cal surprise over the other. In some cases, air superi-ority may possibly be attained by methodicallyeliminating enemy air bases, although experience in themajor wars of this century indicates that airfields mustbe attacked persistently and heavily if they are to bedestroyed.

Light, one-time attacks probably will not eliminatean airfield, but may, for a limited period, keep its air-craft on the ground.

The next step back in the aircraft chain, the move-ment of aircraft from the factory to operational fields,normally does not present much of an opportunity.Ferry routes generally are on internal lines not subjectto attack. Worth noting, however, is the fact that ferry

)ttensve Operations 43

L '.\ |'•!•rl~hl Oh., h1"", \.0-naf)l A,, Mu-m %la . ....4.u trlh- m~lafl Ir-mhu~l-r

German Messerschmitt ME 109s roar over the English Channel on abombing mission over England during the Battle of Britain.

losses for reasons other than enemy action can be quitehigh. The Japanese, for example, lost a shocking num-ber of aircraft ferrying from Japan to forward bases.,

The next significant step back in the chain is the fac-tory. The production of aircraft may depend on a great,ainy IdCtories that produce engines, ball bearings, air-frames, munitions, and tire control systems. Sometimesof even greater importance are the people and facilitiesthat support the factories. Power and transportation areparticularly critical: Interviews and studies after WorldWar II indicated that power and transportation were theweakest points in German and Japanese war produc-tion.'

The last step back is to the raw materiel that goesinto aircraft building. The sites of raw materiel produc-tion themselves are not normally good targets. Trans-portation nets to the plants, however, can be veryvulnerable, as was the case of Japan in World War II.


OBVIOUS CHOICE OFTEN WORST ONE The factthat choosing a point at which to attack the aircraftchain is far from easy should be clear by now. Theimportant thing to keep in mind is that many ways areavailable for attaining an objective, and that the mostobvious one-in this case, attack on aircraft in the air-is quite likely to be the worst choice. Circumstances willvary with each conflict, but the thing to look for is theplace where an investment in attack will yield the great-est return. In some cases, a "panacea"" target actuallymay exist. Where these can be found, they should beattacked and reattacked with persistence.

One more point needs to be made about the air-craft chain. If enemy production sources are outside theoperational theater, as they were for the United Statesin the Vietnam War, and for the Israelis in their warsagainst the Arabs, then the problem of preventing addi-tional aircraft or missiles from entering the enemy'sinventory becomes either easier or more difficult.

In the Vietnam case, keeping the North Vietnamesefrom acquiring new equipment theoretically was quiteeasy, as almost everything came by sea transport, whichhad to terminate in a very limited number of ports.Once the United States decided to close the ports, andput enormous pressure on the enemy with the Line-backer II attacks, the North Vietnamese quickly ran outof missiles.9

In the case of the Israelis, blocking entry of aircraftand missiles into the Arab countries was not feasible;consequently, aircraft and missiles had to be addressedcloser to the front- where the cost can be quite high asthe Israelis discovered in the 1973 war.

Enemy logistics may well constitute the real centerof gravity. Aircraft can't fly if they don't have fuel, andthey can't accomplish anything if they don't haveweapons. Ground-based air defense systems are uselessif they have no missiles to fire, and neither ground norair systems last very long without spare parts. Where issuccess likely in this area?


I',AM I'hotlotraphp( o llemI ron Nalional Air 4', ",pjtv Muvuin Nfmihsonll In lntutwon

B-24 Liberator bombers take part in the Ploesti mission from a basein North Africa. The oil refineries of Ploesti, Rumania, which turnedout 27 percent of all Axis petroleum products, were the target of ahistoric 9th Air Force mission on 1 August 1943. It was the first massattack by heavy bombers at low levels against a heavily defendedindustrial area, a round trip of 2,000 miles.

If the whole logistics chain is open to attack, themost promising link almost certainly will be petroleum.The whole petroleum cycle, from the initial collectionpoints through the retineries to the end user, is excep-tionally vulnerable.

In World War II, the Allies did not concentrateon the petroleum chain in Germany until May1944. Three months later, Germany's ability toproduce aviation fuel had fallen by 98 percent;by December, the German military was in suchdire straits from a lack of fuel that it had todepend on the seizure of Allied fuel dumps inorder to give the Ardennes offensive anychance of succeeding.10


Of course, the Allies attacked every element of Ger-man petroleum processing, with special emphasis onrefineries and synthetic fuel plants. If it is not possibleto concentrate on the refineries, the vulnerability of thepetroleum chain decreases-but it still remains a poten-tially key target simply because a modern militarymachine cannot function without fuel.

Fortunately for the attacker, even the movement ofrefined products in any quantity is difficult. Petroleumproducts must go by railroad, by road in large tankertrucks, by sea, or by pipeline. All these modes of ti -ns-port can be struck with great success from the air. Suchattacks are most effective, however, when the overallfuel situation is fairly tight. In other words, a particularairfield is not going to suffer from attacks on petroleumproduction or transportation until its own reserves arelow. Thus, user reserves should be knocked out wherepractical. If not practical, patience is needed, for userreserves normally have enough to last for what mayseem like a long time, even after the source is com-pletely destroyed.

PATIENCE, PERSISTENCE ARE THE KEYS Other partsof the logistics base might be attacked, and should be, ifcareful analysis of vulnerabilities, stockpiles, and sub-stitutes indicates that an attack is worth the cost. Forexample, a sustained attack on plants producing spareparts or munitions may produce satisfactory results overan extended period of time. If time is important,however, choosing a relatively rugged and probably dis-persed part of the logistics base may be an error. Again,regardless of the way in which logistics are attacked, adelay almost certainly will be noted between successfulattacks and observable deterioration in the enemy's airefforts. Patience and persistence are key.

The German air attack on Poland in 1939 wasthe first significant use of air power at the start

Offensive ()perationw -

of a war. The Luftwaffe staff had correctly iden-tified the need to attain air superiority in thetheater," and assumed that it could be accom-plished largely by hitting enemy aircraft on theground and by attacks against physical facilitiesof the airfields.

The first part of the assumption proved true, hlutexamination of Polish fields after the Polish surrenderproduced some unexpected results. Attacks againsthangars and runways had little effect and were notworth the effort. Coincidentally, however, Germanattacks on airfields (and railroads) had so completelydestroyed communications that, as German historianCajus Bekker writes, "there was virtually no effectivemilitary command from the start."''

In the Polish case, the Germans succeeded in spiteof some misplaced effort. In their subsequent attacks onBritain, they were not so lucky.

The German air campaign against Britain in 1940 hasbecome a classic of how to do things wrong.

The Germans set out in the summer of 1940 towin air superiority over Britain. During thecourse of their two-month campaign, theycontinually changed their objectives, neveridentified a real center of gravity, and demon-strated a remarkable lack of patience and per-sistence. Of particular note was the short-livedthrust against Royal Air Force (RAF) bases.Starting in the second week of August, theLuftwaffe made RAF bases one of their primaryobjectives. Part of their effort was wasted,because it was directed against forward operat-ing bases used only for quick refueling andrearming. These bases were relatively easy torepair. Another part of their base attack pro-gram, however, was directed against mainbases, and it lasted until 6 September 1940.


1. 1,AF I'hiiii raphit Me ll.ioi n Nit nil Air &. %pace Miumeum. m~ithsonian Ins',iiiniiof

British Spit fires in flight over England show their US Army AirForces markings. It was not unusual to see British planes withAmerican markings, and American aircraft with British insignia.

In retrospect, the airfield attack program clearly wasweakening the RAF. The Germans, however, abandonedairfield attack on 7 September -1940 and substituteddirect attacks on London, which they thought wouldforce the RAF into the air, to be defeated by Luftwaffefighters. One of the reasons why the airfield attack pro-gram was cancelled was because its progress could notbe charted-unlike the movement of armies on theground, where progress is easily depicted. Another rea-son was an assumption that destroying aircraft in the airwas relatively easy and inexpensive-"r

As we have seen, nothing could be farther from thetruth.

Finally, and perhaps more compelling than the coldmilitary logic-however erroneous-was an emotionaldesire to retaliate against the British for their nuisance


raid on Berlin. We will cover this error in more detail insubsequent sections.

The inability to measure progress in the same way itis measured for land operations demonstrated a Germanbias toward thinking in only two dimensions that is com-mon even today. This bias is a heritage of thousands ofyears of ground wars. On the other hand, the assump-tion that the place to destroy an opposing air force is inthe air demonstrated a typical fighter pilot bias. Thesebiases exist in everyone's mind: The successful com-mander will be the one who can think with his brain,not with his heart.

The preceding discussion shows the usefulness ofairfield attack, but also shows that it requires greatpatience and persistence. One cannot expect to hit anairfield once and forget about it for the rest of the war.Here is where geography can play an important role indeciding the utilitv ot airfield attack. If enemy fields areisolated and cannot easily provide mutual support, anoperation to concentrate against one at a time suggestsitself. On the other hand, if the fields are mutually sup-porting-the enemy can easily concentrate forcesagainst an attack-then an airfield attack program mayeither be exceedingly difficult, inordinately expensive,or not practical. Normally, of course, airfields will bearrayed in some pattern between perfect mutual sup-port and perfect isolation. In this case, if airfield attackis deemed necessary, planners ought to look for a flankor other weak spot that will permit attack in detail.

FLIGHT CREWS ARE PRECIOUS RESOURCE Equip-ment, whether aircraft or missiles, is of no value unlessskilled personnel are available to use it. The people whooperate missile systems or who repair aircraft are highlyskilled and cannot be replaced easily. Flight crews areespecially precious in war, for their production is sodependent on long and arduous training programs and


on such a relatively small pool of eligibles that unexpec-tedly high losses can lead quickly to reduced capabilityin the air-even when no shortage ot airframes exists.

This shortage of air crews is precisely what hap-pened in Germany in 1944 and 1945.

German aircraft production hit record highs in1944, as a result of a desperate and belatedrecognition that Germany could not surviveAllied command of the skies. Unfortunately forGermany, this remarkable production of air-craft was to no avail, as the pilot training pro-gram was overwhelmed in 1944, as was theaviation fuel industry.14

Two basic approaches to reducing enemy pilotpools suggest themselves.

0 First, a certain number of pilots will be killed,wounded, or captured in the course of air battles, eitherdeliberately sought or which occur in conjunction withother operations. It a pilot is shot down over enemy ter-ritory, he normally is lost, at least for some extendedperiod of time. The exception occurs when an air forceis operating without time constraints and can afford todevote a significant portion of its daily sorties to rescueoperations. If, however, the flyer parachutes to safety infriendly territory, he may well fly again in a new aircraftthat same day. This often happened to RAF pilots duringthe Battle of Britain.

* The second manner in which enemy pilot strengthcould be reduced is through direct or indirect attack ontraining facilities. The direct attack faces the same obsta-cles that plague any airfield attack program. In addition,if geography permits, pilot training bases probably will

be located as deeply as possible within a country. Anindirect approach (such as an attack on the petroleumsystem) may be more likely to succeed.

Without question, pilots are key to the ability of anair force to operate in the air. However, in order to get


at them, something else may have to be done-such asshooting down enemy aircraft or destroying a key partof the logistics base that supports training. These thingsaffect the air battle more directly, or at least more mea-surably, than reduction of enemy pilot strength. There-fore, except in cases where the enemy has a verycircumscribed pool of pilots, while possessing com-paratively large numbers of aircraft, pilot strength prob-ably should not be identified as a center of gravity thatcan be addressed directly. On the other hand, it isimportant and useful to keep in mind that more directattacks may have the secondary effect of reducing pilotstrength. These attacks may considerably speed theprocess of winning air superiority. To the extent that thequantity and quality of the enemy pilot force can beidentified, opportunities may exist to accelerate pilotattrition.

Command is the sine qua non of military opera-tions. Without command, a military organization isnothing but a rabble, a chicken with its head cut off.Commands exist at all levels, of course, starting with thecompany or flight level and ranging up through the wingor division level to the ultimate theater or even nationalcommand. Destruction or isolation of any level of com-mand may have a serious-and perhaps fatal-impact onthe unit or units subordinate to it. Clearly, command,with its necessarily associated communications andintelligence gathering functions, is an obvious center ofgravity, and has been from the earliest times: As thedeath of the king on the field of battle meant defeat forhis forces, so the effective isolation of the commandstructure in modern war has led to the rapid defeat ofdependent forces.

One of the problems facing the commander today,which did not face him even a century ago, is the prob-lem of locating the command structure. In simplertimes, the commanding general or monarch was readilyidentifiable to both friend and foe. His death or capture


US Arr for(e Photo

A B-52 Stratofortress maneuvers during a joint exercise, Bright Star83. This long-range strategic bomber, in service since 1957, still formsthe backbone of the US Air Force's Strategic Air Command.

were immediately obvious to both. The results of hisdeath or capture were likewise immediate. Today, a sin-gle commander may well be the key to victory or defeat,if he is especially brilliant or stupid. Both cases,however, are on the margin; in normal circumstances,the modern staff is capable of keeping operations goingalong a fairly broad path. Therefore, it is not so muchthe commander who is the center of gravity, but thestaff system which serves him.

Unfortunately, staffs normally work out of pro-tected facilities that are well behind the front. They aredifficult to destroy or capture. Additionally, within rea-sonable parameters, individuals on the staff can bereplaced by other officers serving elsewhere. Sincephysical destruction of the staff is difficult and notnecessarily long-lasting, other approaches to vitiatingcommand must be considered.

Offensive Operations ";

To tunction etTe( ti\velv, the oommander and his htattmust receive reliable information on what is happeningon both sides ot the tront, and thev must have someway to pass direction to subordinate-and superior-formations. In bet%,een receivin- and sending, the com-mand element must make decisions. Consequently.command ýan he attacked in the iollowing threespheres: the inro)rmation sphere; the decision sphere:and the communications sphere. If any one of these canbe sutficientlv (tistUrhed, the effectiveness o operationswill begin to decrease dramaticall\,. How much it willdecrease will be a function of the situation and the pres-sure being exerted by the enemy.

If the enemy is attacking or defending in a slo\\conventional, methodical manner, or if one's ownforces are behaving similarly, the urgency o0 receivinginformation, making decisions, and transmitting direc-tions is considerably reduced. In tact, absent ,tress.lower echelons ot ( ommand need little guidance fromhigher echelons and probably (could continue to runc-tion for some time without any guidance. In these cir-cumstances, attacks on the command structure are notlikely to produce immediateiv dramatic results, althoughsomething signiticant may happen over time it a highlevel of command is knocked out. Conversely, it theenemy is attacking or defending imaginatively with ahigh tempo o 0 operations, or if one's own torces aredoing so, the need tor information, decision, and com-munications goes Up exponentially. Now, even a slightdisturbance in the command process can be dangerousor even catastrophic.

COMMAND IS TRUE CENTER OF GRAVITY Comn-mand is a true center of gravity and worth attack in any'circumstance in which it can be reached. It is vital toremember, however, that results may not be evident torsome time unless the enemy is under severe pressure.


The destruction of a command element may not imme-diately be evident on the battlefield, simply becauseinertia, if nothing else, will allow subordinate units tocontinue some operations. Patience and persistenceagain are imperative.

As an illustration, the Germans in the Battle of Brit-ain decided that radar sites were key targets.

The Germans launched coordinated attacks onBritish radar stations early in August and suc-ceeded in destroying one. The British,however, sent false signals from the locationof the destroyed radar station to make the Ger-mans think their efforts had been for naught.The Germans responded precisely as the Brit-ish hoped and dropped attacks on radars onexpress orders from Field Marshal Goering,the political and military chief of the Luftwaffe.

The Germans, due to their impatience and lack of per-sistence, and British deception, stopped attacks againstthe very thing that allowed the British to mount an effec-tive defense.15

The three elements of command-informationgathering, decision, and communication-can beattacked individually or together as part of the effort towin air superiority. Each of these elements can beattacked directly or indirectly: The best course willdepend on the situation. The decision element is clearlythe key, for without it the other two are worthless.Unfortunately, the decision element is the most difficultto reach directly. Normally, the other two elements willoffer the best possibilities. Some examples will illustrateproblems and opportunities.

The German attack on British radars in the Battle ofBritain was an attempt to take out British informationgathering. As noted, the attempt failed because of theBritish deception operation-which in itself was anattack on German command.


By feeding bad information back to the Ger-mans, the British induced the Germans tomake a bad decision. Later in the war, the Brit-ish and Americans attacked German radarsindirectly by dropping chaff to mask the direc-tion and extent of bombing raids over Ger-many. Every major conflict since World War IIhas seen the use of chaff as a means of depriv-ing the enemy of information.

Attacks on the decision element of command arelimited only by the imagination. They can range fromdirect strikes at enemy command posts to complexoperations to mislead the enemy and induce him to dosomething inappropriate. The former are self explana-tory. The latter benefit from illustration.

In the Battle of Britain, the Germans began bymore or less concentrating against variousparts of the British fighter force. They weremaking progress when the British made abomber attack on Berlin. The attack was mili-tarily insignificant, but it was a prime factor ininducing Hitler to direct attacks againstLondon. The shift to London took much of thepressure off the British air force and allowed itto concentrate all of its efforts against the Luft-waffe. British bases no longer needed fighterprotection, and the Royal Air Force was able toconcentrate its fighters against the now pre-dictable Luftwaffe. 16

In this instance, no evidence suggested that theBritish attacked Berlin so that the Germans would attackLondon. However, it certainly suggests the possibility ofdoing something to the enemy that will induce him toreact illogically.


Another similar case is the Doolittle raid on Tokyoin 1942.* The raid itself was militarily inconsequential,but it led the Japanese to the unwarranted conclusionthat their home defenses and their defensive perimeterneeded to be expanded and strengthened. 17 As a result,the planned invasion of Midway quickly gained greatsupport, the army opened a campaign in east China tocapture the airfields where the Doolittle bombers hadintended to land, and a total of four fighter groups badlyneeded elsewhere were held in Japan for home defenseuntil the end of 1943.

All three of these actions had subsequent repercus-sions-although none so great and dramatic as thedefeat at Midway, which was a turning point in thePacific war."8 The Japanese reaction to 16 bombers isanother indication of how irrational decisionmaking canbe, and how vulnerable it is to manipulation.

To date, no really good examples exist of successfultheater attacks on just the communications part of thecommand system. However, some examples are avail-able from both ground and air war at the tactical levelthat have wider application. Following the heavy airattacks in conjunction with the Normandy invasion,Field Marshal von Rundstedt, the German commanderin the west, relayed that "high losses in wireless equip-ment by fighter bomber attack ... were noticeable inmaking reporting difficult." 19

A more modern example, which combines all threeelements of command, is the Israeli operation inLebanon in 1982.

* Lieutenant Colonel James H. (Jimmy) Doolittle led 16 B-25 Mitchell

medium bombers on a daring raid on military targets at Tokyo,Yokohama, Yokosuka, Nagoya, and Kobe on 10 April 1942 from thedeck of the US Navy Aircraft Carrier USS Hornet. This first air attackon Tokyo in World War II, which carried the Battle of the Pacific tothe heart of the Japanese Empire, bolstered US morale, slowed Jap-anese offensives, and earned Colonel Doolittle the Medal of Honor.

()ttensive Operitions 5/

A B-25 Mi'chell medium bomber takes off from the deck of the USNavy Aircraft Carrier USS HORNET with heavy seas and overcast skyon the last leg of the Doolittle raid on military targets in Japan on 10April 1942.

In the late spring of 1982, Israel decided toeliminate the surface-to-air missile system theSyrians had installed in the Bekaa Valley. Theyused a variety of innovative ideas and equip-ment, including army artillery to take outclose-in radars, drones with television camerasto give the commander a real time view of thebattle, and F-15 fighters in an airborne controlrole. The sequence of the operation wasroughiy as follows: The Israelis fed bad infor-mation to the Syrians by launching remotelypiloted drones that produced radar returnssimilar to fighters. The Syrians shot SA-6 mis-siles at nothing and exposed themselves tovarious types of fire. Next, the Israelis reduced


Syrian information gathering capability signifi-cantly by hitting Syrian radars, to open the wayfor attacks on individual missile sites.After the missiles failed, the Syrians launchedwaves of fighters to intercept the Israelis, butthe Israelis jammed the data and voice com-munications on which the Syrian pilots weredependent. 20

As a result, the Syrian fighters were reduced touncontrolled singles trying to operate againstsuperior numbers of well-controlled enemyaircraft. 21

The loss of information-gathering systems andcommunications led the Syrian command tothrow more fighters fruitlessly into the fray. Inthe week-long operation, the Syrians lost 85fighter aircraft and 29 surface-to-air missile bat-teries.22

The Israelis lost nothing to Syrian air and,depending on sources, two to three aircraft toground fire.

The Israeli success was phenomenal. It was theresult of effective attack on all elements of Syrian com-mand. Whether that success can be duplicated on amuch broader front is a matter of speculation; however,a broader operation even 20 percent as effective wouldstill be spectacular. The opportunity is there and when,as in the case currently under discussion, one's ownbases are relatively secure from attack, possibilities areso enormous that the utmost attention should be givento a concerted attack on the enemy's command system.

ETHNOCENTRICITY SHOULD BE AVOIDED Indeciding where to put the emphasis of the air superi-ority campaign, making a careful analysis of enemy doc-trine is important. In the process, avoiding


ethnocentricitv is especially important; one must notassume that what one's own Service considers logicaland necessary is what the enemy will consider logicaland necessary. In a certain sense, war through the ageshas been a battle of doctrines. The really decisive suc-cesses have come to those who adopted a new doctrinalconcept to which their enemies were unable torespond: The refused center at Cannae baffled the doc-trine of line clashes; the longbow at Crecvx3 beat thedoctrine of the heavv cavalrv charge; the tank, to someextent in World War I and markedly in World War II,defeated the doctrine of linear warfare; and the doc-trine of air bombardment brought crushing defeat to thecountries whose doctrine depended on armies andfleets for protection or conquest.

Examples abound from World War II to the presentof air doctrine, for good or ill, playing a major role inthe outcome of battles and wars. The classic case is thatof the Germans, who although judged apparent mastersof air doctrine after the great successes in Poland, hadsuch fundamental failings that they were virtually pre-cluded from winning the wars on which they hadembarked.

Development of air doctrine began in Germany inthe 1930s. The Luftwaffe, like other major air services,was intrigued by aerial bombardment ideas espoused byGiulio Douhet,2 4 in his epic book Command of the Air(1921; English translation, 1942). Hardware developmentwas moving apace, with a four-engine bomber on thedrawing boards that was to have sufficient range to pen-etrate beyond the Urals.

In 1936, however, the man who provided the broadstrategic vision for the Luftwaffe, its Chief of Staff, Gen-eral Walther Wever, died in a plane crash. The officerswho followed him did not have his broad vision andadministrative ability. In addition, the head of the Officeof Air Armament after the Spanish Civil War believedthat all bombers had to dive in order to have satisfactory


accuracy. Compounding the issue were technical prob-lems in bomber engine development.2

These factors meant that Germany had a short-range, tactical air force when she went to war againsttwo countries, Britain and then Russia, which could onlybe reached with long-range aircratt.

Lack of a long-range air force meant that Germanyhad to meet and defeat her enemies at the front-thesame way that armies had opposed each other for cen-turies. Such a course also has worked for centuries, butagainst enemies similarly constrained or against enemieswith forces not too numerically superior. In World WarII, these conditions did not prevail for Germany.

On her western front, the British and Ameri-cans had long-range air forces that couldattack every facet of German life, from the fac-tory to the front. All of Germany was underbombardment by 1944, whereas British andAmerican rear areas were practically immuneto Luftwaffe bombing. On the eastern front,Germany faced the Russians, who had movedtheir industry behind the Urals and greatly out-produced Germany in military equipment.

The Germans could not reach Russian factories, sowere compelled to take on Russian equipmeont at thefront where numerical superiority eventually provedoverwhelming. In essence, Germany entered a war withdoctrine and equipment that were inadequate to thetask.

Contrast Germany's mismatch of strategy, doctrine,and equipment with American experience against Japan.

HANSELL URGES STRATEGIC BOMBING IN PACIFICAmerican air theoreticians had been much taken byDouhet's theories on defeating an enemy by direct airattack on his homeland. These theoreticians had put


together proposals for the "strategic" bombing attackson Germany and one of them, General Havwood Hans-ell, pushed for the same thing in the Pacific. He arguedthat the seat of Japanese strength was in the homeislands; if airpower could so punish those islands bydirect attack, then the armies on the perimeter wouldbe little more than useless appendages. To carry outsuch a plan, however, he had to have bases withinabout 1,600 miles of Japan, in order to bring the islandswithin range of the B-29 bombers that would start arriv-ing in 1944. He therefore urged that the previouslyplanned central Pacific thrust be devoted to winningsuitable bases in the Marianas. To him, operations in thesouthwest Pacific were peripheral. After lengthy discus-sions in Washington, he finally convinced the Air Staff,and then the Joint Chiefs, to approve a campaign with aprimary mission of seizing bases in the Marianas fromwhich US forces could conduct intensive air bombard-ment and establish a sea and air blockade against Japanand from which to invade Japan proper if this shouldprove necessary."26

The Joint Chiefs were willing to hedge their bets.Hansell himself had the opportunity to command

the first of the B-29 units based in the Marianas-although he was forbidden to fly missions against Japanand was replaced by General Curtis LeMay, whodirected the fire bombing raids.

These operations started in late 1944 andbecame intense with the fire bomb raids onTokyo in March 1945. In late spring, the Jap-anese government started its first tentativeefforts to negotiate an end to the war. Shortlythereafter, Japan started looking for ways tosurrender contingent only on protection of theEmperor.2

7

Japan surrendered unconditionally immediatelyafter the two atom bombs fell on its cities. This is not


USAF Photographic (ollection. Nalionai Air & Space Museum, S•tmhsonian Instilution

A jeep leads a B-29 Superfortress of the 499th Bomb Group, 7th AirForce, to hardstand on Saipan Island, in the Marianas Group, in 1944.The heavy bombers used the islands as launching points for north-ward strikes to Tokyo.

the place to debate whether the atom bombs wereneeded. What is clear is that the Japanese had lost airsuperiority over the home islands. Previous losses oftrained personnel and obsolescent aircraft made itnearly impossible to resist the marauding Americanbombers. At the time of the surrender, the Japanese had2 million men and 9,000 aircraft in the home islandsalone. Nevertheless, as the Strategic Bombing Surveyconcluded, "It seems clear that, even without theatomic bombing attacks, air supremacy over Japan couldhave exerted sufficient pressure to bring about uncondi-tional surrender and obviate the need for invasion."2 8

Unlike the Germans, the Americans had developeddoctrine, aircraft, and training appropriate to the prob-lem. They won.

Ottensive Operations 63

Japan itself was the political center of gravity. If itcould be sufficiently threatened, the war would end.The key point here is that any war is almost certain tohave a similar center of gravity. If it can be reacheddirectly without reducing the defenses enroute, doingso should be considered.

How to affect that center of gravity is the next ques-tion. As the Strategic Bombing Survey suggested, nogovernment can long function when the enemy oper-ates treely above it-that is, when the enemy has airsuperiority. The same suggestion may well pertain tolevels short of national government. The mere pos-sibility, however, means that the air superiority cam-paign must be given great thought-as an end in itself,or as a means to an end.

ISRAELIS CAPITALIZE ON WEAKNESSES IN SYRIANDOCTRINE Almost 40 years after Germany and Japanfell in defeat, the Israelis brilliantly capitalized on weak-nesses in Syrian doctrine. The Syrian air doctrine wasclosely modeled on the Soviet doctrine and called forvery close control of fighter aircraft by ground stations.This doctrine puts a premium on the ability to gatherinformation and to communicate. This doctrine, in turn,suggests a possible vulnerability. Indeed, if one hadonly a copy of Syrian doctrine, and no record what-soever of any Syrian combat experience, one could log-ically conclude that the command and control systemought to be a particularly lucrative target-as indeed itwas in the 1982 battles previously discussed.2-

As suggested in the beginning of this discussion,the case in which one's own fields and rear areas aresafe from attack, while those of the enemy are not, isthe best possible situation. Its existence, however, doesnot ensure victory or make victory come cheaply. Care-ful consideration of enemy centers of gravity, assistedby analysis of enemy doctrine, is the first step to suc-cess. The second step is concentration of effort.

64 The Air Carnpaign,'Warden

Especially in the situation where one seems to havenumerical superiority, there is a tendency to try to doeverything. In all likelihood, the net result will be thatnothing is done as efficiently as it should be.

A very important point to keep in mind is that CaseII is different from the other cases. It is significantly dif-ferent from the case where the enemy's rear areas arenot reachable. If a Case II war is fought as though itwere a Case IV war (where enemv rear areas cannot beattacked for either military or political reasons), the timeto bring the war to a successful conclusion will beextended at best. In other words, if the opportunity tostrike the enemy's bases and support systems is avail-able and not taken, the price for this neglect will behigh. As-logic and historical experience very clearly indi-cate, the most expensive wav to destroy enemy air is toengage it over the front in a head-on battle. One bombdropped by one aircraft on one factory or power plantmay directly or indirectlv destroy great numbers ofenemy aircraft, whereas one aircraft at the front isunlikely to destroy even one of the enemy. The sameprinciple holds true tor interdiction, as will be shown inchapter 6.

Political leaders mav be loath to attack enemy rearareas at times. Conceivably, cogent political or strategicreasons may call for avoiding attacks on rear areas. It isimperative, however, that the operational commandermake clear to the political authorities that they are direc-ting a militarily illogical course, and that the cost andduration of the war almost certainly will be far higherand longer than it otherwise might be.

From the commander's ideal case, we will turn nextto the most dangerous of all cases-the case where theair commander is forced to accept the pure defense.

4. Defensive Operations

FOR THE AIR COMMANDER, Case I1, where the enemy'sbases are open to attack but one's own are not, is theideal situation. Conversely, the worst situation (Case Ill)is where the enemy can operate against one's baseswhile his are immune. Not only is the Case III air superi-oritv battle the toughest to win, but the consequencesof losing it are the most severe, as loss of the entire warbecomes quite likely.

The Case III situation can develop in a number ofways. Equipment, such as long-range aircraft, may notbe available to carrv the war to the enemy. A lack of willmay prevent carrying out strikes against the enemy.

DOCTRINE MAY INFLUENCE THE SITUATION Thelack of will could stem from fear on the part of flyers, orpolitical dreams that restaint may keep the enemy fromdoing something even worse than what he is alreadydoing. Doctrine may influence or control the situation.Just as theorists in the 1930s were sure that theLinescorted bomber would always get through, somethink that current air defense systems will suffice andthat offensive operations are futile.

Even if doctrine provides for offensive operations,quite possibly they have not been practiced in peace-time, and the force consequently is unprepared to takeon such a complex and sophisticated operation.

Finally, a variety of circumstances may prohibit anoffense. One possibility is that the initial enemyonslaught was so violent that it destroved the systems orpersonnel needed to support an attack. In any event,

65


Case III clearly can happen- as indeed it happened toPoland, France, Great Britain, North Korea, the Arabstates in 1967 and 1973, and to North Vietnam.

The defense, in classical land warfare, may well bestronger than the offense, as Clausewitz postulated. Inair war, however, the opposite seems to be the case.Several reasons explain this apparent contradiction.

* First, air forces have such tremendous mobilitythat they can attack from tar more directions than can aland army.

* Second, the rapidity with which air forces movemakes concentration against them more difficult thanconcentrating to defend against a land attack.

* Third, the defender on land normally has pre-pared positions from which he can fire at an attackerwho must by definition move across open territorywhere he is at a decided disadvantage.

* Lastly, when air forces meet in the air, the dif-ference between attacker and defender tends to blur (ifnot disappear entirely). The lack of difference betweenattacker and defender in air war has important ramifica-tions for both sides, as we will see shortly.

Historically, being on the pure defense in air mat-ters clearly is fraught with danger. The danger may begreater or lesser, depending on the nature of what hasto be defended. Easiest to defend is a reasonably tightcomplex where defenders can meet challengers anyplace on the periphery, and where the defenders canprovide each other mutual support. Most difficult todefend is a long narrow area where distances precludemutual support and where the attacker can choose avariety of targets for his thrusts at any particular time.Two points need clarification.

First, we are speaking here of theater-size opera-tions, not about defense of a single airfield, factory, oreven city. Second, we are making the assumption that,for the foreseeable future, the only really effectivecounter to an aircraft is another aircraft. As we have said

Defensive Operations o7

before, this argument is not to suggest that ground-based defenses can be ignored or that they are not dan-gerous. In fact, they are dangerous enough that onemust assume that no one will commence an offensiveair campaign unless he is relatively sure that he will beable to neutralize them by one means or another.

MASS MUST BE AVAILABLE FOR ATTACKER Therelations of mass, or numbers, between the attacker andthe defender make geography, or, more specifically, thedisposition of airfields, of prime importance for the airdefender. For the attacker, mass must be available to doa reasonable amount of damage-again, on a theaterbasis. True, a single aircraft with a guided weapon cantake out a point target, such as a bridge. (Assuming, ofcourse, that a single aircraft can penetrate thedefenses.) On the other hand, a single aircraft cannotput an airfield, marshaling yard. or other significant mili-tarv target out of commission; only a mass of aircraftcan do that. Not all air forces have learned this basicprinciple; thus, some might try to conduct a campaignwith small numbers. Should this event happen, thedefender can count himself fortunate. It is not wise,though, to plan on the enemy's stupidity. One mustexpect that any serious enemy will attack with strongforces. Strong forces must be met with equally strongforces.

The history of air war, as short as it is, has shownclearly that masses in the air can only be opposed bycounter masses. Attempts to defend with inferior num-bers (in a particular battle, as opposed to inferiority inthe theater), or, conversely, to attack with inferior num-bers (on a particular engagement) have been notablyunsuccessful.'

We already have discussed illustrations of this prin-ciple from the war in Europe, as well as the war in thePacific. We will see more.

68 The Air C(amodazn Warden

If mass is important in defense, the problembecomes one of producing mass at the appropriatetime. We must adjust our perspective and think in termsof air battles. Mass is only important insofar as it can bebrought to bear against an enemy attack. Thus, aircraftthat cannot take part in an air battle are irrelevant.

How does one not lose .a Case III air superioritycampaign?

The questilon is deliberatelv phrased in the nega-tive, because the tact that one is on the defense meansthat the best possible outcome is not to lose. Nothingpositive can be achieved from defense-although a suc-cessful defense may prepare the way for a subsequentoffense.

Fortunately, at least one small-verv small-advan-tage exists to being on the defensive. Simply, theenemy's motivation tor offense, and thus his willingnessto accept punishment, may be less than that of thedefender. The attacker is hardly likely to throw hisentire air force into the trav and lose it all before decid-ing to give up the attack. Conversely, the defendermight not find it illogical to expend his entire force in anattempt to protect himself. This fact gives the defender aslight psychological edge that can-and must be-exploited.

DAMAGE IS KEY TO NOT LOSING The key to notlosing is to inflict enough damage on the enemy that hebecomes unable or unwilling to pay the price. Is thissuch a truism that it doesn't need stating? While it maybe a truism, it is not easily put into action. One neces-sarily must think exactly what must be done to lead theenemy to give LJp his offense.

On the defense, the only way to hurt the enemy isto knock down his aircraft and capture or kill his flyers.The numbers of aircraft knocked down are important,but more important is the timing of their destruction.

Detensive Operations 69

The enemy certainly will accept some level of losses,and probably has determined that level in advance. Onepercent is an attrition level that most air forces could,sustain without making drastic changes in their cam-paign plans.

For illustrative purposes, assume an air force of1 .000 aircraft suffers a I percent loss each day for 10days. Total losses would amount to just under 100planes. It results had been good for that 10-day period,the commander probably would continue operations.But now, let uS take the same total loss and inflict it on asingle day. Almost everv commander, under these cir-(umstances, would seriously reconsider his plans. First,he clearly can't accept losses ot that magnitude morethan once or twice. Second, losses of that size almostare certain to have hurt some units so badly that they%ould have to be withdrawn. Third, his livers suffer a

blow to their morale and to their feeling of invincibility.In short, a difference is felt between losing a little

each day and losing a lot on a particular day. Thedefense must inflict as many bad da's on the offense aspossible, even if that amount of action necessitatesreduced activity on some days.

In the foregoing example, we suggested that 1 per-cent was a sustainable attrition rate, whereas 10 percentin a single day was not. The true figures mav vary some-what, but these percentages have historical support.

In World War II, American air forces generallyfelt that 10 percent was the greatest attritionthey could accept without changing some-thing. Indeed, in October 1943, the Luftwaffehad its best month of the war and succeededin imposing a 12-16 percent loss rate on theAmericans. That rate was so unacceptable thatthe commander of the 8th Air Force stoppedfurther deep, clear-weather raids into Ger-many for almost four months. 2


Thirty years later, the Israelis lost 40 fightersover the Golan Heights in a single day. Thisloss rate, more than 10 percent, forced themto stop operations until they could figure out abetter way to do the job- despite the fact thatthe Syrian breakthrough the air force was try-ing to stop would do great damage if it suc-ceeded.3

The goal, then, is to impose very heavy losses onthe enemy in the shortest time possible. How can thatgoal be accomplished? Two general principles must befollowed.

* The first is to concentrate forces, to confront theenemy with superior numbers in a particular battle, sec-tor, or time.

* The second is to accept the fact that it is not possi-ble to defend everywhere and everything: He who triesto defend all defends nothing. Penetrations are going totake place. When that fact is accepted, it becomes easierto do the concentrating which will permit significant vic-tories with acceptable defender losses.

LOSS RATIOS A FUNCTION OF FORCE RATIOSAnother phenomenon is important for the air com-mander to understand: Loss rates vary disproportion-ately with the ratio of forces involved. Two forces equalin numbers (and reasonably close in equipment and fly-ing capability) will tend to have equal losses when theymeet. Keeping the same equipment and personnel, asthe force ratios go against one side, that side will havegreater loss rates than the changed ratio would suggestConversely, for the side for which the force ratiosbecome more favorable, loss rates will fall more thanthe ratios would indicate. The change in loss rates,either positive or negative, is not linear; it is exponen-tial. Furthermore, no point of diminishing returns forthe larger force seems to exist. That is, the larger the

L) rcrrs.iv, ( )perations 71

torce gets, the lewer losses it SU;lter'., ind the greaterlosses it imposes on its opponent.'

Unfortunatelv, no good rule ot thumb exists torhow much superiority the detender should have overthe attacker. A few examples, however, may give someideas.

The Japanese attacked Midway with 108bombers and fighters. Midway's Marine squad-ron of 26 fighters suffered almost 100 percentlosses.3

On 11 January 1944, the American air forceattacked a target deep in Germany with a forceof 238 bombers and 49 escorting fighters. TheGermans opposed it with 207 fighters. Losseswere 34 bombers. just over a month later, on19 February, a force of 941 bombers escortedby 700 fighters let German opposition ofabout 250 fighters. In this encounter, theAmericans lost just 21 bombers-a lower abso-lute number and a lower percentage.

In June 1982, an Israeli defending force of 90fighters met a Syrian force of 60 fighters. TheIsraelis had no losses, while the Syrians lost 23of their aircraft.,

Modern weapons might arguably have invalidatedthe experience of World War II and Korea, and theIsraeli battle last cited possibly was an anomaly. Whilecertainly possible, this argument seems unlikely. Lots ofaircraft targeting fewer aircraft are bound to get betterresults than the other way around. This conclusion hasnothing to do with the quantity \erses quality debate.Better airplanes are going to perform better thaninferior ones-a fact noted by the great German aceManfred Von Richthofen in 1918, w\'hen he commented,"Besides better quality aircraft they Ithe Britishl havequantity. Our fighter pilots, though quite good, are con-sequently lost."-


S-\f Ph oiorapht (olllown, Na'i| l Uor l Uwum srnilh•oin n In•lrl'ou

B-17 Flying Fortresses take part in the bombing of Berlin in 1944.

We said earlier that no fixed ratiD exists that the aircommander can use as a rule of thumb. We have seen,however, that the greater the ratio of defender toattacker, the more likely is the defense to succeed. Thedefending commander must ensure that the ratio is inhis favor.

All this emphasis on numbers may seem to suggestthat the outcome of the Case Ill air superiority campaigncould be judged on the basis of relative prewarstrengths-perhaps tempered by production rates afterthe war started. This emphasis on numbers also mightsuggest that the defending commander is doomed if hehas fewer aircraft than the offense. Neither suggestion istrue. Static balances are of interest, but they don't havemuch to do with how the war is likely to end, unless thenumbers are absolutely overwolelming. What counts isthe numbers when two forces meet in actual battle.


TIle smaller cerending air force can win if its aircraftare properly employed, and if thev are concentrated in,uch a wav as to outnumber the attacker in any givenengagement. Concentrating to achieve numerical supe-rioritv is imperative, even if doing so leads to someattacks escaping without interception. Far more impor-tant and effective is imposing heavv losses in one battleor on one dav, than getting a constant 1 or 2 percent aday.

\lso important is that the defending commander,especially the commander of a force that is overallinferior in numbers to the enemy, recognize that hislosses will be lower when he outnumbers the enemy inan engagement. And again, big enemy losses on a singleday or on one raid do wonders for morale-on bothsides.

Having prescribed concentration and numericalsuperiority, how is this superiority attained? It will bedifficult to attain in war, if it is not practiced in peace.Galland, after concluding that he needed numericalsuperiority-and desirably 3- or 4-to-I even in the daysbefore American bombers were escorted-found thathis pilots had great trouble operating in formationslarger than a flight, because they had not flown them forthe three years since the Battle of Britain.i'

Practice is a necessity. So is creating the mind set of"fight superior and win." The tighter pilot has a tend-encv to plunge bravely into any fray, but such action canbe wrong. Audacity may lead to defeat. The air forceinferior in numbers to its enemy must fight better andsmarter to win. Its generals must concentrate their forcein such a way that it has superior numbers when a batt' -is joined. The political slogan of "fighting outnumberedand winning" has no place at the operational level ofwar.

THE MORE WARNING, THE BETTER The defendingair force must devise ways to get many aircraft off theground quickly. This practice is especially significant ifair bases are not well distributed. Non( of the foregoingwill help, however, if a good, survivable warning andcontrol system is not available. Obviously, the more


warning, the better, although the commander must besensitive to enemy feints designed to draw thedefenders into the air and then to strike when they runout of fuel. The enemy is especially likely to resort tosubterfuge if the defense has successfullv concentratedseveral times and taken a heavv toll as a consequence.

The strategy and tactics of the enemy will eithercomplicate or simplify the job of concentration.

In the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe initiallytargeted fighter bases and aircraft productionfacilities. Since these bases and facilities werescattered over the southeast corner of GreatBritain, the British had difficulty knowingexactly where a raid might be headed, when itwas first detected on radar. The Germans wereconcentrating their offensive forces. The morethey did so, the better their success. For a vari-ety of reasons, the Germans in early Septem-ber switched their efforts to London, removingdoubt as to where raids were headed, andmaking the job of concentrating the defensethat much easier. Also, the end of Luftwaffeattacks on British fighter bases made opera-tions from the bases simpler.

Finally, at a time when the Germans thoughtthat their enemy was losing the battle, the Brit-ish, with the help of the "Ultra"* codebreakers, were able to concentrate all theirforces, including those that normally wouldnot have been committed to the London area,for a mighty attack on the Germans on 15 Sep-tember. The Germans took such heavy losses,and were so surprised to find that the British

" "Ultra" was the code name for the Allied exploitation ot material

deciphered from the German Enigma coding machines.


seemed stronger than ever (although in actu-ality they weren't), that they gave up theserious air assault on the island kingdom.

In retrospect, the Germans apparently would have wonthe air war had thev not given the air bases a respite andhad the, not shifted their efforts to London, where theBritish could concentrate against them."

One other approach used by the British is worthmentioning, although it will receive more treatment in alater chapter.

The British maintained reserves.10 They fre-quently rotated units out of the hot spots,allowing them to recuperate. These units wereavailable when the battle reached a decisivephase. While the British were rotating unitsand thus maintaining a reserve, the Germanswere using everything and everybody theyhad. When the time came for the decisivepunch, nothing was left for them to add.

The Case III air superiority fight can be won if theair commander employs his forces well. If he concen-trates, if he accepts some penetrations in order to maulothers, and if he develops and uses a good warning andcontrol system, he can beat a larger air force. Con-verselv, if he tries to defend everywhere, if he commitshis forces piecemeal, if he fails to concentrate, he willlose-and may even lose against a much smaller airforce if the attacker outsmarts him.

Air warfare, especially in the defense, is extraor-dinarily complex and demanding. Careful thought andcool execution are necessities.

From the pure defense, we move now to thoseanomalous situations in which air power is not a factorfor any of a variety of reasons, or where both sides areforced to fight over the front without attacking each


other's rear areas. The commander may be greatly frus-trated in both, but the general rules we have discussedso far still apply.

5. Limited OptionsS () tf\R, \\F id-\\ t i)IS( LS-,'LI) DAIR ,(L P I-I ()O I[I (A\SLS when theoMnlMander \as involved in lii le ()r death struggle-

either to (eIleat the e nenv m )or keetp the enemy fromoverwhelming the commander. \s explained in chapter1, however, situations exist in which the air battle islargely (onfined to the area over the tront. or where airpower plavs no signiticant role.

Both m1 these cases require a dilterent perspective.When the rear areas o( both sides are relatively

sate, either because O( political restraints or because ofphysical inability to reach appropriate targets, the over-all campaign plan is easier to det ise-although it mav beharder to execute. Ini this case, air superioritv is unlikel'to be an end in itself; rather, it is needed to preventenemv air interterence with ground operations over ornear the front. while permitting triendlv air operationsover corresponding parts ot .eneniv territorv.

When the enemy rear (annot be reached, optionsare very limited. To achieve air superioriIy, little can bedone beyond the elimination ot enemy aircraft in the airand the suppression of enemy ground-based systems.Under these circumstances, the commander mustdecide whether the ground-based system constitutes asufficient threat so that it must be attacked first, orwhether it can he suppressed b\ eletrroni( means whileenemy aircraft are defeated in the air.

We discussed neutralization ()I ground-baseddefenses in chapter 2. Let us now look at the air battle.

OPTIONS DEPEND ON THE ENEMY If enemy airforces cannot be attacked on their base,,, they must be

77

78 -Fhe Air Campaign,'Warden

attacked in the air. Options depend on the enemy'sstrength and doctrine. If the enemy considers hiniselfcomparatively weak, he will attempt to avoid aerial com-bat, while concentrating efforts against aircraft that maybe harassing his ground troops or supplv lines close tothe front. One could even imagine a situation in whichgreat waves of fighters are sent over the lines to engageenemy air, but alwavs return without destroying anyenemy aircraft, because the enemy chose not to fight.Should this situation occur, air superiority is won bydefault and the next phase in the campaign can begin. Ifthe enemy air force is not quiescent, however, it mustbe met and destroyed by fighter forces.

Several general methods are available to run thefighter campaign when the enemy rear cannot beattacked. The first method is a fighter screen betweenenemy bases and the front. The Americans used thistechnique successfully in Korea after the Chineseentered the war. The difficulty in such an operation isthat it relinquishes the initiative to the enemy. Theenemy may or may not choose to challenge the screen,he may hold his attack until he judges the screen isnearly out of fuel, or he may succeed in putting superiormass against the screen. The proper choice dependslargely on numbers.

If the enemy is notably inferior in numbers, the aircommander may possibly maintain screens on station ofsufficient size to cope with any possible enemy attackAlthough specific ratios are difficult to prescribe, a mini-mum of 1-to-1 is the least that prudence demands.Obviously, a permanent fighter screen is a very expen-sive operation.

If the enemy is equal or superior in numbers, main-taining a fighter screen becomes exceedingly difficult,because the enemy can overwhelm it at a time and placeof his choosing. The key here, as always, is to fightsuperior and win. On anything but a theater basis, talkof fighting outnumbered and winning is dangerous. If a

Limited Options 79

single lesson can be learned in military history, it is thatthe key to winning battles is to have greater forces at thekey location than does the enemy. The trick is to outwitthe enemy and thus out-concentrate him at the righttime.

MOBILITY CAN WIN THE BATTLE One of the majorattributes of airpower is its mobility. It that mobility canbe used to provide concentration, it can win the battle.In this instance, a screen may be possible to create asthe enemy assembles to attack if bases are close enoughto the front, if detection systems are good enough togive sufficient advanced warning of enemy movement,and if large enough forces can be launched quickly fromenough fields to give numerical superiority when thebattle is joined. To follow this course requires superbdetection systems, superb command coordination, andbases close enough, in time or distance, to the battlearea. If it can be done, this course can regain some ofthe initiative as the enemy cannot know whether or howhe will be engaged.

A fighter screen, or the mobile version of it just dis-cussed, may not be needed if the enemy is using his airdefensively. Under this circumstance, escort of close airsupport or interdicting aircraft may be sufficient. As pre-viously noted, if attacks against enemy ground forcesare being carried out, enemy air either must answer orde facto relinquish air superiority. Assuming he willaccept air battle, the question becomes how to conductthe escort operations. Two basic approaches are avail-able: sweep, and close escort.

In the sweep option, the fighters precede thebombers and engage enemy air found enroute or on theflanks. In the close escort option, fighters stay veryclose to the bombers and attempt to drive off the enemywhen he attacks. The latter has a long history of failure:the Luftwaffe against Britain in 1940;1 the US Army Air

8() I /he Air (-amlipf•n WVarden

Forces against Germanv in 1944,2 and the US Air Forceagainst the Chinese in Korea and against the North V'iet-namese in Indochina.; Some future war, however, mayreveal that close escort will be the proper approach.

Fhe preceding discussioln ot sweep and (lose escortrepresents an e\(ursion into the world ot the tactician,as Opposed to that ot the operational commander.

The operational commander normally should stayawav from tactical problems. Some tactical decisions,however, have enormnous impact on the whole war. The,sweep versus (lose escort decision is one. The tacticaldecision area also is one Of those areas where com-manders trom different branches-even within the same.;ervi-e-mav have radically different ideas about what ispropr and what is not. In the escort area, bor example,bomber commanders historically have felt unprotectedwhen they could riot physi(allv see their escortingfighters. When this sort of ritl develops, the operationalcommander mus! step in to make a tactical decision.

The distinguishinrg Ieature ot Case IV is the basearea sanctuary entoved by both sides. Given this sanctu-ary, the campaign is likely to turn into a long sluggingmatch, in which either side has difficulty doing anythingmore than wear the other down. This development isespecially evident when both sides have roughly equalnumbers and supporting production ot weapons andpersonnel. If one side is notably interior to the other, interms of either pilots or aircraft and missiles, that sidecan only play a very careful game and look for oppor-tunities to do damage to the opponent without sufferinglarge losses to itself. As long as it takes this course, itcan stay in the w\ar for a long time. This observation isnot to sav that its ground forces are not going to sufferhorribly in the process-as did those of North Vietnamafter the United States entered the war.

CANDID ADVICE NEEDED The case we have just dis-cussed is one of the easiest to solve from the

Limited Options 81

operational level, because so few options are available.It is apt to be maddening for all concerned, and signifi-cant differences may arise with the political leadership ifrestraints on attacking enemy rear bases are politicallymotivated or militarily unsound. Should this case hap-pen, the operational commander must give his candidadvice as to likelv costs with and without the con-strnintq. Although Case IV presents few options tn thecommander, Case V- in which air power is not signifi-cant-presents even tewer options. Even in this case,however, the commander must still think about airpower.

A war without combat aircraft is most likely to occurwhen two relativelv primitive or poor forces clash. Lesslikely, but still possible, might be a phase in a war thattakes place after both sides lose the use of their airforces, either because of combat attrition or because ofmaintenance problems. Regardless of how it comesabout, air superioritv will not be a problem for eitherside. We mention this scenario onlv because the situa-tion could change quickly it one side acquires air poweror if a supporting power decides to introduce it.

Situations do change, and the operational com-mander should run an air planning exercise concur-rently with his real ground or sea war planning andexecution. The planning should focus on how andwhere air should be used offensively if it becomes avail-able, and on what targets to defend should the enemyacquire it exclusively. Thinking and planning should fol-low the patterns proposed for the other four cases.

This discussion of Cases IV and V brings us to theend of our examination of air superiority. We havelooked at it from a variety of angles, to grasp as much ofit as possible. Each case presents its own special prob-lems, but obvious in every case is the clear mandate toconcentrate forces. No simpler- nor more oftenignored-principle exists than this one. The commanderwho concentrates his forces either wins or staves off


defeat. The commander who doesn't, loses or wins byaccident.

We will see the same principle at play in the nextchapters on interdiction and close air support.

6. Air Interdiction

C LAUSEWITZ SAID A CENTURY AND A HALF AGO tb 3t 7om-bat-battle-was the essence of war. Under some cir-cumstances, it might not be necessary to engage inactual battle. But even in such cases, the threat of war, ifnot the actuality, determined victory or defeat.'

Battle, in its simplest terms, is the clash of armedmen on a front.

For armed men to clash, for there to be battle, themen, their weapons, ammunition, food, and informa-tion must get to the front. If they are already at thefront, then sustaining support, such as reinforcementsand materiel, must reach them. The totality of men andequipment moves from its source to the front alonglines of communication that can range from primitivetrails to complex air routes. In the case of materiel,sources reach all the way back to the raw material fromwhich the materiel was made. In addition to the lines ofcommunication that run from the source to the front,lines of communication also run laterally along thefront, Over these lines move troops shifted from onepart of the front to another to meet threats or exploitopportunities.

From the earliest recorded times, commanders havesought to place their forces between the enemy and hisbase. So serious can such an interposition be that dur-ing certain periods, notably in the eighteenth century,this act alone, without any battle taking place, often wasenough to induce the interdicted side to make peace.Thus, the history of interdiction is as long, and nearly as

83


important, as the history of battle. The advent of the air-plane only added a new dimension to this form of war-fare.

Many definitions of interdiction exist. Sometimes itis even broken down into subcategories, such as bat-tlefield interdiction. For simplicity, we will consider anyoperation designed to slow or inhibit the flow of men ormateriel from the source to the front, or laterally behindthe front, as interdiction. Additionally, as we did in dis-cussing air superiority, we will not make any distinctionsbetween operations directed at the source and thosetargeted immediately behind the lines.

Thus, an attack on a train carrying iron ore to thesmelter is just as much interdiction as destroying abridge a mile behind the front. Naturally, the timeperiod required for the effect of either to be felt willvary enormously. Even so, both are interdiction and mayfit into the commander's theater air campaign.

With the exception of direct attacks on the sourceof war materiel, the effectiveness of interdiction is tiedclosely to either the friendly or enemy ground situation.In general, it is most effective when the enemy is underpressure from hostile action or because his own plansdemand mobility. To help in visualizing these situations,we will divide ground action into six categories andexamine each in detail.

IN RETREAT The most serious predicament withwhich a ground force must deal is a retreat underenemy pressure. Under such circumstances, the groundforce must slow the enemy pursuit as much as possibleto make time for establishing new lines, evacuation, orarrival of reinforcements. Interdiction can buy theneeded time. Unfortunately, problems that led to theretreat-especially if it is retreat on a theater scale-probably included loss of air superiority. Under someunusual conditions, however, air superiority may nothave been lost and air interdiction may be possible.

Air Interdiction 35

The American retreat from the Yalu River in Korea in

the late fall of 1950 is a good example.

After a very successful offensive, reaching tothe banks of the Yalu, MacArthur's 8th Armyand Xth Corps encountered a massive Chinesecounteroffensive. Badly outnumbered-insome cases by as much as 10-to-i- MacArthurordered a general retreat. General Lin Piao,the Chinese commander, started his pursuitwith the objective of destroying the 8th Armyas far north as possible. To accomplish thisend, he had to abandon his previous practiceof marching only at night and camouflaging hisarmy during the day. When he started movingin the day and driving at night with convoy

lights on, to develop sufficient speed to catchthe retiring American forces, he exposed him-self to American air.

The Americans, who still had air superiority,

exploited Lin Piao's exposure to the maximum.American intelligence, using aerial reconnais-sance and extensive interviews of capturedChinese, estimated that in December alone airattacks killed and wounded more than 30,000Chinese soldiers-the equivalent of four tofive full divisions. The Chinese were unable to

sustain such a high casualty rate and wereforced to resume their previous practice ofmarching at night and hiding during the day.2

MacArthur's armies escaped virtually intact, with totalcasualties of less than 13,000 killed and wounded.

Interdiction worked well in this case because theAmericans had air superiority and because the Chinesewere forced to expose themselves in order to carry outtheir operations. When we examine the other end of the

86 hte Air (jam pa,'n' Warden

spectrum, we will see what can happen when a retreat-ing force does not have air superiority and is sublect tointerdiction.

STATIC DEFENSE AGAINST AN ENEMY OFFENSIVEThe next most serious ,.ituation in which groUnd torcescan tind themselves is in static detenSe against anenemy ,Wl on the offens;ive. Vhe earlv part ot theKorean war provides another good example ot %\hat airinterdiction can accomplish.

By the first part of July 1950, the surprise NorthKorean attack of the previous month hadpushed South Korean forces and Americanreinforcements to the far south of the Koreanpeninsula. There, around the port city ofPusan, the allies succeeded in establishing adefensive perimeter-but one they fearedmight break at any time. Despite the severityof the situation, MacArthur wanted to begin acounteroffensive.

He could not do so, however, until significantforces could be brought from the UnitedStates. Important to his counteroffensive planswas maintenance of the Pusan perimeter. Hedecided that it could only be held if his air armcould keep the North Koreans from massingenough men and supplies for a final effort. Heopted to use his air to conduct an intensiveinterdiction campaign. The campaign suc-ceeded and the perimeter held.-

This interdiction operation took place under airsuperiority (although at this point in the war, neitherside had large air forces available).

\ir Interdictlon ,7

OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS ON BOTH SIDES The next,.tep ()fn the l ,pectruni from worst to best is the situationil %\hi(h hboth ,,ido, are r(ulihlv e(Lual and attempting()teln,,ive, operation,,. ( nder ilhe, i rcumstances, nei-ther ,ide ma\ hae'(, ULtt i(wnt air s.uperifority to conduct,ian etie( tive ilter i( tio(n ( anipalii• . It an interdiction1)p)p)(rtunlt\ does pre-ent itselt, hIo\e\ e r, it (an pay bigdivi(Iend,,. [li( (ie',(,rt hattlU •, (o1 1941 in North Africap r(o\ide ,11 in t ere•,-tin(, (,\anil pe ()t the ( ase where nei-heor d.ic, had! air ,uLj)(,ri(nt\ in the immediate battle

,10llC, Ut \\i here lel ,lidt. ie( [lrihl,, was able to con-(JI( C t ('e(tive interdtl( ion s()ne distance from the actual1iqhlin.

After initial British successes, under GeneralRichard N. O'Connor, fighting in the desertbecame inconclusive until Rommel assumedcommand of Axis forces. By the late fall of1941, Rommel had driven the British back tothe Egyptian border and was poised for a finaloffensive. While suffering reverses in theground battle, however, the British had wagedan intensive interdiction campaign from Maltaagainst Axis shipping to Libya and Tunisia. Thecampaign reached its height in the fall of 1941,when British air and naval units succeeded indestroying in September 38.5 percent of allsupplies sent to Rommel. In November, theBritish destroyed 77 percent.'

Thus, in December, Rommel was down to 40 tanks,his ammunition stocks were dangerously' low, and hewas told by the Italians that they had no way to get any-thing to him for at least another month. He had nooption but to retreat from Tobruk and the Egyptian fron-tier."

After Rommel's reverses in the desert, the Germanhigh command belatedly recognized that British

88 Fhe Air (.amtnan Wairden

interdiction operations trom Malta were intolerable;consequently, they mounted a massive air attack onMalta that came close to causing the island's garrison tosurrender. British naval and air units no longer wereable to operate from the island. The air attacks, whichbegan in December, had an immediate salutary effect;in Januarv 1942, the Germans lost onlv 20 percent ottheir shipping. Taking advantage of the neutralizationof Malta, the\ moved sufficient ,upplies to Rommel topermit him to undertake a major otfensive in April.

The interdiction from Malta worked because theBritish had air superiority over and near it, and becausethe British in North Africa were maintaining more pres-sure on Rommel than he could stand. The interdictioneffort came to a grinding halt when the Germans seizedair superiority over the island. Malta is a classic caseillustrating what can happen when things apparentlyperipheral to the main operation are ignored. Had theItalians taken Malta at the beginning of the war-as theycould have-or had the Germans mounted their airattacks on it some months earlier-as they could have-R()mmel quite possibly would have prevailed.

OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS AGAINST A STATIC DEFENSELet us next examine the condition in which groundforces are intent on launching an offensive against anenemv in static defense. To withstand the attack, theenemy must have sufficient supplies and, except inextraordinary cases, must have the abilit, to commitreserves and move forces from one point in the line toanother. Interdiction can restrict both moves, but expe-rience indicates that its principal benefit is in slowing orstopping the movement of reserves and reinforcements.Two campaigns, the Allied attack on the Gustav Line andthe Allied invasion of Normandy, are illustrative.

\ir Interda tion 89

In the fall of 1943, the Germans in Italy estab-lished a fortified defense, the Gustav Line,along the Garigiliano and Rapido rivers on thewest and on the Sangro river on the east sideof the Italian peninsula. The Allies made attackafter attack on the Gustav Line, starting inOctober 1943. Losses were high and gainswere negligible. In an effort to break the Ger-man defenses (and minimize casualties), theAmerican air forces began operation "Stran-gle" in March 1944. Designed to stop the flowof supplies to the Germans, it focused on rail-roads and roads well north of Rome. In thefirst week, the Allies cut every railroad in atleast two places. Thereafter, they averaged 25cuts per day. Rail capacity fell from 80,000 tonsper day to 4,000, well below what the Germansneeded to resist an intensive offense. On 4,000tons a day, however, the Germans could sur-vive in the absence of Allied ground attack.Thus, they did not withdraw."

The next step then was resumption ot the groundoffensive. In preparation for the start ot the (ottensive,

The US air forces continued operation "Stran-gle," but shifted the focus to the area imme-diately behind the German lines to just northof Rome. The Allies launched the groundattack in the middle of May, broke throughquickly, and in the 14 days after the initialattack, linked up with the beleaguered beach-head at Anzio. In another 10 days, they tookRome.

In just over three weeks, the Allies, who in the preced-ing six months had achieved nothing with great losses,now moved 80 miles and torced the (;ermans intoprecipitate retreat. Losses were relativelv light. Since the


ground force ratios did not vary significantly from whatthey had been during the abortive attacks of the late falland early winter, air interdiction apparently had donethe job-as indeed it had, but not quite in the way thathad been anticipated.

Postwar interviews with German commanders, andreviews of German records, indicated that the Germanshad sufficient supplies on hand to meet the attack. Thenorthern interdiction had not done too much damagefrom that standpoint. What made an enormous dif-ference, however, was the German inabilitv to movereserves to the front or to move forces laterally along it.The interdiction campaign had taken such a toll oftrucks and trains, and had done so much damage tobridges, railroads, and roads, that the Germans weredependent on foot power and animal transport to moveanywhere. Interference before and during the offensivewith lateral lines of communication was especially effec-tive.9

General Frido von Senger und Etterlin, commanderof the XIV Panzer Corps during the battle, said thatenemy air control created difficulties for the Germandefenders to move troops laterally as was required. Hewas only able to move at night. He noted that the com-mander who could only move during darkness was likea chess player allowed only one move for each threemade by his opponent.",

The interdiction campaign in Italy succeededbecause the Allies had air superiority and were able tokeep constant pressure on the lines of communication.It did not, however, force the Germans to retreat. Aground offensive was needed do that. The offensivesucceeded where previously it had failed because theinterdiction effort kept the Germans from moving forcesneeded to plug gaps in the line.

The concept of combining an interdiction campaignwith an offensive on the ground is of such importanceas to merit another example. The Allied invasion of

.Air Interdiction 91

Normandy was planned in the tull knowledge that Ger-man forces in northern France would greatly outnumberthe invaders. The only way the invasion could succeedwas by preventing the movement ot reinforcements tothe Normandy area. The planners depended on an inter-diction campaign to accomplish that end.

The Germans had two basic options for defenseagainst an invasion they knew would come.

First, they could put everything they had on thebeaches and hope thev would be either sufficientlystrong everywhere or that they would correctly antici-pate the site ot the landings. Under this option, the Ger-mans hoped that the Allies would never be able toestablish a beachhead.

Second, in consonance with German doctrine, theycould keep forces in reserve until the main landing wasclear. Thev then (ould hurl superior forces against thebeachhead to destrov it.

Rornmel, who had experience trving to moveforces when the enemy controlled the air, arguedstrongly for the first option. Von Rundstedt, who had nosignificant experience with enemy air, argued just asstrongly tor the second.

Von Rundstedt won."The numbers alone would seem to have justified

von Rundstedt's position: Under his command, he hada million-and-a-half men organized in 60 divisions.' 2

Contrasted to von Rundstedt, the Allies were only ableto put ashore a total of 325,000 men in the first week.'"

The difference was in air power. The Allies had con-ducted a two-month interdiction campaign before theinvasion. On D-day, the Allies flew 14,000 sorties,opposed to 100 the Germans managed to put in the air.(Allied air losses from all causes were 127 aircraft, whileGerman losses were 39.)14

The interdiction campaign had two phases.The first phase, begun in the early spring of 1944,

was designed to overwhelm the German transport


system by destroying railroads, bridges, and rollingstock.'3

The second phase was to prevent the movement ofGerman forces to Normandy after the invasion started.

The success of the first phase is evidenced by areport from Colonel Hoffner, officer in charge of rail-roads in von Rundstedt's area.

In May 1944, he told von Rundstedt that the Ger-mans needed 100 trains a day. The Germans, however,only managed to average 32 trains a day in that samemonth-down from 60 a day in April. May traffic wasonly 13 percent of what it had been in January.16

The interdiction campaign had crippled the Ger-mans in France before the Allies waded ashore at Nor-mandy. Reports of senior German generals attest to thesuccess of the effort: Von Rundstedt said, "The AlliedAir Force paralyzed all movement by day, and made itvery difficult even at night." Von Kluge, von Rundstedt'ssuccessor, communicated, "The enemy's command ofthe air restricts all movement in terms of both space andtime, and renders calculation of time impossible." AndRommel commented, "Our operations in Normandy aretremendously hampered, and in some places even ren-dered impossible" and "the movement of our troops onthe battlefield is almost completely paralysed.''17

The interdiction campaigns in Normandy and Italywere successful. In the first case, they allowed a landingto succeed that was impossible without them. In thesecond, they permitted an offensive to succeed when itpreviously had failed with heavy loss. Two things standout about these operations: The interdictors had com-plete air superiority and the defenders were put underenormous pressure by the attackers. Together, the twoare powerfully synergistic.

AGAINST A RETREATING ENEMY Napoleon onceobserved that no sight is dearer to the soldier than theknapsack of his enemy. Indeed, that sight is even dearer

Air Interdiction 93

to the modern soldier who has air power to help him inthe pursuit. The retreating army is especially vulnerableto interdiction for several reasons.

"* First, it has probably lost air superiority."* Second, by definition, it is in a hurry, and thus

less capable of taking elementary precautions against airattack.

* Third, it probably has lost much of whateverground-based air defense it had.

* Fourth, it may have lost the leadership and disci-pline that usually provide rational direction.

Taken together, these four factors make a retreatingarmy an ideal target for air action.

The concept of air interdiction against an army inretreat should be clear enough that it does not needmany supporting examples. One should be adequate.

After the Allies broke through the Gustav Linein Italy in May 1944, the Germans fell into arapid retreat. A retreating army is not necessar-ily a routed army, and the Germans maintainedfair order as they pulled back to the north.Despite their relative order, they still lost morethan 70,000 men killed and wounded and agreat amount of equipment to air action.-8

Of course, the preceding interdiction campaign,which had made movement to the south difficult, alsomade retreat to the north difficult. Compare theselosses to the losses suffered by the Americans whenthey retreated from the Yalu River in Korea. The dif-ference comes from the fact that the Germans had lostair superiority, while the Americans had maintained it.

AGAINST SELF-SUFFICIENT FORCES The last cate-gory in the spectrum is the special situation where theenemy force is self sustaining, or nearly so. Guerrillassometimes are nearly self sustaining in early phases of


their war. Even main force units can be almostindependent when they are fighting a very low-intensitywar, or if they are under no great pressure from theirenemy. Obviously, a force that needs little or nothing toexist or fight does not need the kind of supply lines thatmake air interdiction worthwhile.

Examples are copious and include the Vietnam Warbefore North Vietnamese army forces moved to thcsouth in strength around 1965, the Mau Mau uprising inKenya, and partisan operations in the Balkans in WorldWar I1. The mere fact that a thing called air interdictionexists does not mean that it is appropriate for all con-flicts. In the examples cited, it wasn't, and any attemptto use it probably represented effort that should havebeen devoted to something more productive.

We have seen what interdiction can do and where itis most effective-when the pressure is on the enemyand he needs to move major forces and equipmentquickly, such as during a retreat, a pursuit, or a defenseagainst a determined offense.

Now, we must look at where to interdict. A simplethree- level categorization based on relative distancefrom the front gives us a framework for analysis andplanning. Interdiction can be close, intermediate, or dis-tant.

We may define distant interdiction as an attackagainst the source of men and materiel, or, in the caseof a warring party that has no industry, the ports or air-fields where materiel provided from outside enters thecountry.

Intermediate interdiction occurs somewherebetween the source and the front.

Close interdiction is interdiction in that area alongthe front where lateral movement takes place.

It is possible to concentrate on one, or on alltogether if the circumstances are proper and enough airresources are available for proper concentration oneach area. Again, examples from past conflicts will give

Air Interdiction 95

the reader an idea of the problems and opportunitiesassociated with each.

Distant interdiction has the capability of producingthe most decisive outcomes affecting the whole the-ater-or even theaters-but it also has attached to it thegreatest time lags between attack and discernible resultat the front. For instance, if every oil refinery in theworld blew up tomorrow, oil-based industry and trans-portation wouldn't be forced to shut down the followingday. In some cases, they could continue to operate forweeks or even months. Eventually, though, they wouldstop if the refineries were not rebuilt. The lesson for theair and theater commander is that a delay always existsbetween cause and effect. If the commander is sure thatthe war will be decided before an effect can be felt froma given action, then it is pointless to waste resources oncarrying it out. He needs to be very careful in thisassessment, however, for wars are inevitably muchlonger or much shorter than arvone expects.

The classic examples of distant interdiction are theoperations conducted against Japan and Germany inWorld War II. Since these operations already have beendiscussed in some detail, it should suffice to recall thatfour months of bombing attacks against Germanpetroleum facilities reduced aviation gas production by98 percent. By the end of the war, German tanks, if theywere lucky, got only enough gas for a single attack."'

A modern society, let alone a modern army and airforce, cannot operate without fuel. After a success ofthe magnitude discussed above, one need only wait(while maintaining a degree of pressure) for the enemyto collapse. Barring utter fanaticism, which was unex-pectedly stronger in Germany than in Japan, the enemywill quit.

Intermediate interdiction also has a time lag associ-ated with it, but one that probably will be less than thatfor distant interdiction. It has been most suitable inpreparing for future operations. For example, the


attacks on rail lines in Italy and France did not pay offuntil the offensive began against the Gustav Line anduntil the invasion fleet landed at Normandy. Then thepayoff was great.

A similar situation existed in the Southwest Pacific,when the American air force caught a huge Japaneseconvoy moving troops and supplies from Rabaul to theHuon Peninsula. The convoy was destroyed and a wholedivision lost.-"' Its loss did not have an immediate effecton the battle that was taking place a couple of >.undredmiles to the east. But its effects were felt months later,when MacArthur moved against the Huon bases that theconvoy had intended to build up. MacArthur also con-ducted a continuous campaign against barge traffic thattried to run from Hollandia and Wewak to intermediatelocations the Japanese thought would be strong pointsthat would have to be reduced before the Americansadvanced. Although MacArthur bypassed most of thesebases, the long and effective interdiction campaign hadsucceeded in isolating them from resupply of food,spare parts, and medicine.2 1

Thus, the bases :,e did attack were considerablyweakened and were riot able to put up the resistancethey otherwise might have.

The last of the categories of interdiction-closeinterdiction-seems most useful when a battle is in pro-gress. We have seen how it played such an importantrole just prior to and during the May 1944 attacks on theGustav Line, and even more so at Normandy. Another,more recent example occurred during the 1973 Arab-Israeli war.

On Sunday, 7 October 1973, the Syrians com-mitted their armor reserves on the GolanHeights. Three hundred tanks, commanded bythe Syrian President's brother, drove to withinfive miles of the Benot Yacov bridge. Nothing

Air Interdiction •7

stood between them and the opportunity todebouch onto the plains below Golan except ahandful of reservists just arriving at the front.But, just as a serious setback to the Israelisseemed imminent, the Syrian advance "ran outof steam." As it turned out, the Syrians hadrun out of gas and ammunition because "theIsraeli Air Force had destroyed it." The pre-vious night, the Israelis had conducted inter-diction operations just behind the front againstthe convoys of Syrian trucks carrying ammuni-tion and fuel.

This operation, conducted in lie*- ot Jlose air supportdespite the desperate ground situation, had a majorimpact on the battle.-2

Interdiction is a powerful tool in the hands of thejoint and air commander, a tool he can use either as partof a potentially warwinning campaign--distant interdic-tion against the source-or as part of the ground cam-paign. It will be effective to some degree in almost allsituations. But when it is used in support of groundoperations, it is most effective when the enemy isunder, or is about to be put under, severe pressure.However, some potential problems must be considered.

All of the successful interdiction campaigns we havediscussed have been sustained, concentrated efforts.(The Israeli interdiction of Syrian supplies on the Golanwas short, but compared to the total length of the war,it probably wasn't much different from the operations inItaly prior to the attack on the Gustav Line.) It is futile tobelieve that one or two missions by a handful of planes.are going to accomplish anything lasting. Like every-thing else we have discussed, mass and concentrationare essential.

Interdiction operations are going to lead to loss ofaircraft and flyers; thus, it is necessary to ensure thatsomething useful is gained for the loss. One modern


T

A KC-135R tanker (bottom) gets ready to refuel an F-16 Fighting Fal-con, a highly maneuverable fighter capable of speeds in excess ofMach 2 to support the air campaign. A multi-barrel 20mm cannon ismounted in the fuselage, along with weapons or tanks on fourunderwing pylcr.s and air-to-air missiles on the wingtips.

Air Interdiction 99

aircraft and a highly trained pilot probably are too high aprice to pav for one old truck, loaded with rice, drivenbv a private.

Interdiction operations should not be done at theexpense olf something more important. That somethingmore important almost certainlv will be air superiority. ,.\

ground commander will dernand interdiction in manyinstances before air ,,uperioritv has been won. Interdic-tion missions, except under unusUal circumstances,when the benetit clearly outweighs the risk, should notbe attempted in the absence ot air superiority. A com-mander does so at his peril, for he is likely to jeopardizehis chances of ever winning it. We have seen veryclearly what righting without air superiority is like.

A possible compromise, however, may be possiblebetween the demand for interdiction in support otground operations and the need to achieve air superi-ority as quickly as poSsible. Simply, some targets maysupport both. A.\ prime example is fuel.

The same luel probably will not be used for anenemy fighter and an enemy t,,nk, but it almost certainlywill be transported and managed by the same net.Attacks on petrroleuin consequently will serve bothends. Attacks on the transportation net may do thesame. Additionally, the enemy must respond withfighters to strikes against his petroleum or transport net.When they do respond, fighters escorting interdictionaircraft can attack and destroy enemy aircraft in the air-keeping in mind that the most expensive place to takeout enemv air is in the air.

Nevertheless, if the previously discussed preceptsof mass and numerical superiority are observed, theseoperations can be doubly protitable.

With this observation, we conclude our discussionof interdiction. The next chapter will deal with the useof aircraft to strike enemy troops directly, at the front, incoordination with friendly ground forces.

7. Close Air Support

CLOS AIR SUPPORT HAS BEEN AROUND since the early daysof the aircraft in World War I. Although it has goneunder other names, such as arm' cooperation, closecooperation, and ground support, every major countrywith an air force has tried it in some form. The Russiansin World War II, .•-or example, did little else and treatedtheir air force as mobile artillery.'

At the other extreme, the Israelis, according to arecent commander of the Israeli Defense Forces, haveshied away from close air support as a mission. TheIsraelis believe that teaching pilots to identify friends istoo difficult; in any event, the mission is to identify andstrike enemies.-

The Germans in World War II, at least after the Bat-tle of Britain, tended to be more like the Russians, whilethe Americans tended more to the Israeli position.

CLOSE AIR VERSUS INTERDICTION Close air sup-port can look like interdiction, and vice versa. To helpreduce the confusion, finding common areas of agree-ment and disagreement is usetul. An air attack onenemy forces crossing the wire 50 yards from friendlytroops, and controlled at least indirectly by the con-cerned ground commander, certainly is close air sup-port. Just about everyone will agree that air attack onenemy troops within rifle range of friendly forces also isconsidered close air support. Similarly, just about every-one would agree that air attack on a tank factory is not.Clearly, substantial room is left between these twoextremes.

101

Pro( edure mIIg h t p)rovId(Ie I ha i~ lto I He n, Ti (at Io n,One could ~av that aerial attac k ()n anvthim, withinlran~ge or art ilIlery woulId be ( lwe ai r ijopo rt t)0( aLI,-(attacks on targets in that /One ý%x ould Wrequire ,oordiiia-tion with the ground commander. Fhil an,,\\or I,, notcompletely ~atisfactorv, howe'. r. h(,JU-( 1aio`o !aro Withilnart iilerv ran -e-,av 2() m iles-.) ),ib l\ ma'. ha'. non)t hli nto do with the current grolnd1 ~ItLatlinn. lar-et- in thiHc~at egory riiilht include1 airlieohd(I on ilhl( 11 a1r ( omh~jatfi g hte rs are i oo ated, radars ri ~d a, 1)1- part 0W (11o Ce n\

early-warn inrg system, or even enemyv t ro ops that hap-pened to be moving laterall'. across that ~ector o1 thetront. Proc edure not only doe'ý riot )vethe Problem , itexpands the area 0ontsin \nlother approach isneeded.

Let LIS (define close air 1,Upporl ais any air i)perationlthat theo retical ly could anid '.'. ad he do n e 6\ g"rounrdforces on their own, It su~tticient troops or artillerv wereavailable. Under this definition. air '-trike, on troopscrossing the wire certainly would tit the ( ate~.&)rv. Aerialbo mbhardmnient of the en em'ni line, p repa rato0rv to a ioffensive, also would fit, because artille(ry COUld do0 thatjob. Usingt air to hold a flank fits undeIr the' rubric Wtc-lose air sLpport, because an e\tra di'. i~iori or ( orpsNcould be assigned flank-holdinrg duties. \erial attack" onlenemy troops moving laterally across theit"iront do(s riotfit, however, because ground forces have nio realisti(way to deal with that kind of action (other tiaii perhapsharassing tire of some sort). If an air action does, riot tallwithin this definition, for our purposes, it w-,Ill be eitherinterdiction or air superiority.

This definition may or mav* not agree, with the (flel-ni tion currently in use in anyv particular arm\, or airforce. It is riot important that it does. What is importantis that air-and ground-commanders go through amental exercise to differentiate between ClO'1Le air sup-port and all other air operation,,. Ift of more !han the-o~retical importance that they do so.

GROUND COMMVANDERS \R[ !N CHARGE-irOun(I (mriniainder mul~st pl\~ke\ rok )lein (eternmiiir -\\ ere lOke ii r ;njwii t %%III ý-im;)I\ ed,\tr,,rouncld ( iiniariuer, tend to ( (orhentrate on their iii-medl(Jate 1(I)i) \'% III( ni I, to) '16%ti\ ai( m the Ur01,1110. ([ I()

D)re\'erit the- trien\ tronli d(mii)i KIli tie deiritimori nt

Ios)e uir Lll[)(rt )e( ( Iiie, 1O)( I)r 1i, hen fel e0 1

ian(Ier, in (,it(,( :\e~rcise m )itri~ ()%(,r gýreatl Imi-rt"

!fhe air iore' ,-. TIn t, this \ i h1i mpiiperld to) theLuiJx'auit1.(I 0111Ch RLI',11,11i tront, %iwier the irniv' mlofm)p-

oolizec air ,,-,et-. ()III\ Mi 1 1L44, \\ hien it wV')> t~oo late.did the arnh\' recmutnize that initer(hi( tio)n wo)uld lia~ebeen tarrmore produ,(tieth01,l11 eair suppo)rt.

It ( Mi~ld he irl-I.Wd that thle fpreti edIng'L dIS(LJu,,iMnI.imiphes paro( hilauil'rn. 1( d10es. I)W not Iin a (,Frti.~,ense. (jr-ound ominander,, and -tait, at least at arimlevel and !ieIm t' end 1() be \ tfalk o. orvlerned with theirimmediate iront-,i, they'\ 4ol h."Imilarlv, plt(aleaders, it :ioic(ine !()()k at the mo)\ enenit () t i~On a1Ila p a nd( Ll~id ' p r( )ýr ) r Lit K iI. te C( H a11t the i ro .l t .V Vmeasurable, ( )b\!( )LJ, ;TIfdlI( )1t)~1 1,rip evervone, anid the(pressure to rmove I lne, 0 )f thle map he. nines I nexorable.

Con\'erselv it !ý (ILuite (Ilitlo Lit Itihrinj, the ( Murý'e mia war to displav\!h (,tie(,( I 0!I inr~itri' titon Ijperation', thatperhaps prevent ed enemyTI (IiVI1lIfl )II"ron iminini theILbattle. Almo1st utL111 the' end, it i, fiard Ito (ispla\ indcomprehend the impa t ()l striku- i-aiwst the efleim \pet roleu,11 mi rid I t r% or Ira rip( i tem

The air tore oiti(er is, trained to loo(k at a (littereniltront. He thinks in termis oW air 'ýiiperioritv, so)tt spotS Iinthe petroICleum sVystemI, transport ne(t \L1lnerabllities, and]o)pportunities" to) iriterdi(, t di'i~iuin, \\O'eks awa\ tirmlCOMMItmenC~t. lBecaUsC Ot the mobili t\ ow hIls mediLumll hetends to lo)ok at greater expanse- ot spa( e and time. Inthe process. ho~e\'er. lhe mav rele-ate the movement wrlines to a u bsid ia rv part m trIhe ni -, ii ture. [I e max lwtou~ch with the I anqll tles i ad Nblo w( o) the froint a,he surveys his ow-,n domain, where ( asualties may be asý

104 rhe .\ir Campalgn, Warden

high as on the ground, but where the bodie,, are rarelyseen-and where no lines are drawn on a map.

Powerful forces are pulling the ground commanderone vwav and the air commander another. If a rational aircampaign is to be carried out-whether for air superi-oritv or interdiction, or both-an air torce must ha\.efreedom to do it. The air campaign, under some circum-stances, may be far more important that the groundcampaign. That never will come to be, however, if thedefinition of close air support, or the importanceattached to it, becomes so inclusive that the groundcommander exercises effective control over large partsof the air force. As a minimum, the theater commandershould decide which campaigns are to be emphasized.To make these decisions, he needs candid advice fromground and air component commanders. They in turnmust each have a thorough, unambiguous doctrinalunderstanding of how their respective Services can con-tribute to winning the war.

Having disposed of the thorny doctrinal problem ofdefining close air support, we now can look at how itcan or should be used.

First, bv his verv nature, the ,oldier on the groundwill find close air support useful in almost every con-ceivable situation, from pursuit to retreat. It it wereavailable, the man on the ground would like to see airprecede his everv move. No air force has vet been largeenough, even when totally subordinated to the army', toprovide that level of service. The one possible exceptionmay be the anomalous Victnam War, where the Ameri-can air force took part in most ground engagements.

Given that close air support is desired bv every-one, but cannot be provided to all, how can this limitedresource best be used? The answer is inherent in the def-inition we proposed and in the nature of the aircraft.We suggested that close air support was a substitute forsomething that could be done with more divisions ormore artillery if they were available-and if they couldget to the battle in time. Left hanging is the question ofwhen the extra division or artiller" should be em-ploved. The answer lies in the concept ot the opera-tional reserve.

Close Air Support 105

We will discuss the concept of reserves in detail inthe next chapter; for now, suffice it to say that theoperational-level reserve is normally committed to ex-ploit a great opportunity-either positive or negative.That is, conmmitment of the reserve is appropriate ifdoing so will allow a commander to make or extend abreakthrough (a positive opportunity) or will allow himto preempt or stop an enemy breakthrough (a negativeopportunit,,).

If we think of close air support in terms analogousto the operational ground reserve, we tend to putproper value on a scarce and valuable commodity. Weput it in terms both the airman and the soldier can un-derstand. We also make it easier to comprehend thatclose air support, like the operational reserve, is some-thing to be used quickly and decisively. It is a shockweapon that is more effective when concentrated inspace and time.

The speed and mobility of the aircraft facilitateconcentration and employment. The two characteris-tics also mean that aircraft participating in other mis-siens can, under the right circumstances, be redirectedin a matter of hours to close air support if the opportu-nity for appropriate employment presents itself. Thus,the options for employment are more numerous thanfor a ground reserve that may take days to build andcommit. On the other hand, a single airplane normallycannot stay on station very long, and there are rarelyenough of them to maintain an around-the-clockcoverage.

We now have two ideas for where to use close airsupport: where an operational-level commanderwould want to employ his own operational reserve andwhere bursts of power-as opposed to the long-termpower of ground forces-are indicated. Commandershistorically have used their operational ground reserveto break through enemy lines, prevent an enemy break-through, or cover a flank. Close air support has accom-plished all these missions. Let us look at someexamplc s.

106 The Air CampaignlWarden

In the 1940 offensive in France, one of the firstproblems confronting the Germans was howto cross the Meuse River with three divisionsopposed by three French divisions dug in onthe opposite bank. An attack by Stuka divebombers offered the key. But the questionthen arose as to whether one massive attack,as was consistent with Luftwaffe doctrine,would do, or a continuous attack would becarried out, as requested by the groundcommander, General Guderian. Guderianexplained that he needed to keep the enemydown while he made his initial crossings. Asingle attack would not accomplish that end.The air force then agreed to provide him witha stream of Stukas. The air attack took place,three divisions crossed the river to overwhelmthree defending divisions, and a breakthroughwas underway. 4

One year later, the Germans again used air tospearhead a breakthrough-this time on the EasternFront.

On 23 August 1941, the Luftwaffe's VIII Corps(its dedicated close support unit) flew 1,600sorties to open a way for a 60-kilometeradvance by Wietersheim's Panzer C )rps. Dur-ing this massive attack, the Luftwaffe lost onlythree aircraft, while destroying more than 90Russian machines. 5

The Americans also used air extensively for break-through operations. Normandy was the greatest sucheffort ever mounted. We already have discussed therole of air in interdicting movements of German torcesto the beachhead area. But on the day itself many sor-ties were flown directly against German defensive posi-tions. One particular mission is worth detailing, becauseit illustrates the use of air to do something more thanmake brute force holes in a line.

(foseAir .•upport 1O7

After learning from "Ultra" intercepts the loca-tion of the Panzer Group West headquarters,Allied aircraft struck the headquarters in force.They destroyed this key command structure,which had the very critical job of coordinatingarmor movements, and killed a number of staffofficers, including the chief of staff.'

in the Pacific theater, massi\e air attacks precededamphibious landings in virtuallk everv case. The Strate-gic Bombing Survey concluded that "sustained air prep-aration for landing operations against well defendedpositions materially reduced the casualtv rate." Manyfactors affected the outcome of island invasions. But,remarkably, Japanese casualties tended to be 10 timeshigher than those of the attackers-an outcome due inpart to American air superiority and concomitant airattack.

Almost a quarter century later, in the 1967 SixDay War, the Israelis used their air to blastthrough fortified positions on the Syrian con-trolled ridge running north from the Sea ofGalilee. Israeli armor poured through the gapto begin a pursuit that would carry it to within25 miles of Damascus. 8

In addition to opening the way for breakthroughonerations, air also has provided the ground com-mander with protection for his flanks. The first signifi-cant use of air for this purpose took place in France in1940, when the Luftwaffe was charged with covering theflanks of the army's deep armor penetrations." It per-formed a similar role by turning back a massive Russianattack on the right flank of the 4th Panzer Army, whichwas moving north for the offensive against the Kursksalient* in the summer of 1943.1'1

A year later, in France, the tables were turned whenGeneral Patton gave the XIX Tactical Air Command

* The Battle ot Kursk in lulv-August l941 was one ()t the largest tankbattles of World War II. Ku rk 1s an mn)ortant igrn(ultural (enier inthe western Russian Soviet Federated socialist Republic on the upperSeym River.

108 The Air Campalgn, Warden

(TAC) the job of protecting his exposed flank along theLoire River as he raced to the east. So successful was theoperation that the commander of German forces southof the Loire requested that the XIX TAC commander bepresent when he surrendered his command and 20,000German troops."

On the other side of the world, MacArthur usedKenney's air force to guard his flanks.

In September 1944, MacArthur needed anotherairfield for his move against Leyte. He chosethe lightly occupied island of Morotai, insteadof the heavily defended main island ofHalmahera, less than 60 miles to the south.When MacArthur moved on to Leyte, heexpected the air force to keep the 30,000 Jap-anese troops on Halmahera away fromMorotai.12

On an as yet unequalled scale, MacArthur made theair force responsible for protecting the flank of one ofhistory's longest operational penetrations: MacArthurhad left strong Japanese forces intact on New Guinea,on Halmahera, in the Netherlands East Indies, and onMindanao."

Our next illustration comes from China. There, theJapanese armies had made a series of attempts to takethe key cities of Kumming and Chunking. They all failed.After the war, the Japanese ground commandersreported that at least 75 percent of the resistance theyencountered had come from air attacks mounted by14th Air Force. The 14th, consuming supplies that wouldhave supplied about a division of ground troops, kept a500,000-man army from reaching its objectives.!

This particular example could be interpreted asmore interdiction than close air support, but it fits ourdefinition of something that would be done by the op-erational reserve if it were available to do it.

C (Jose Air ')tjpport 109

At the end of 1942, General Pauluss bth Army founditself in dire straits after the Russians had encircled it atStalingrad. Some evidence e\ists that the Russians hadwaited for weather bad enough to restrict Luftwaffeactivity before launching the first part ot their offensiveagainst Paulus.;- Bv doing so, they achieved a degree oldefensive air ;uperiority. When the bad weather broke,however, the small Luftwaffe torce (less than two dozentighters and hormbers), fling trom fields within theencirclement, managed on several occasions to turnback substantial armored thrusts. " It was, of course,unable to hold the Russians off indefinitely.

Six months after Stalingrad, the Luftwaffe played akey role in the action around Kursk and Orel.

The Germans were trying to cut off and encir-cle Russian forces in the Kursk salient, whilethe Russians were trying to do the same thingto the Germans in the Orel salient just to thenorth of Kursk. For lack of reserves, the Ger-mans had to abandon the Kursk offensive todefend the Orel area. Key to the defense wasthe Luftwaffe. Every aircraft available on theeastern front was concentrated to meet the bigRussian attack, which came on 19 July 1943.

General Model, the German commander at Orel, gave"full credit" to the Luftwatfe for stopping the offensive.He said that the German success was "from air alone."'

Our final example of close air support in thedefense comes from Vietnam.

American commanders deliberately enticedNorth Vietnamese attacks on strongpoints thatcould be supported by close air operations.Khe Sanh provides a dramatic example. Morethan two divisions of North Vietnamese, con-sisting of 15,000 to 20,000 men, besieged anemplacement manned by 6,000 marines. The

I lo lihe A/r (CaipcLn Wwt'Iden

North Vietnamese, with incredible tenacityand bravery, made attack after attack on theAmericans. Despite their numerical superi-ority, however, they were unable to prevailagainst the 350 fighter and 60 bomber sortiesthat flew against them every day for twomonths. They finally were forced to lift thesiege in March 1968 and fall back with terriblecasualties."'

American losses on Ihe .)anh were comparativelylight. More than a decade before Khe Sanh, the NorthVietnamese had won an impressive victory over theFrench in almost identical circumstances at Dien BienPhu. The difference between the two battles was sim-ple: The United States had massive airpower; theFrench did not.

BAD WEATHER CAN LIMIT CLOSE AIR SUPPORT Aswe have seen. close air support can do a lot tor theground commander. It is not, however, without itsproblems. One very impl ortant deficiency is the inabilityof close air support to operate when the weather is bad.The commander who CoUnts on close air may be badlvshocked if it is not available. Conversely, the comn-mander who is trying to operate without signiticant airsupport may be able to execute a movement in badweather that would be impossible in good weather,when enemy air could strike him repeatedly. Rememberthe Russian exploitation of bad weather for the Sta-lingrad counteroffensive. Perhaps the Russian coM-manders had gotten the idea after seeing the decreasein German speed of movement when bad weather in thefall of 1941 forced the Luftwaffe to reduce its dailh sortierate from i,)000 in September to 269 on 9 October.'

In retrospect, it is difficult to conceive of Germany's1944 counteroffensive in the Ardennes getting started at

su It i ~'' if )j( ýr

One of many 9-26 Martin NMarauders of thle 9th Air Force over thecoast of France during the early morning gives cover to landing cratton the sandy beaches below during the D-Day invasion of Franceearly in June 1944.

all had not bad \veather nade it almost impos~ibK( iwrAllied air to operate ialan"t It. \t Some point inl !ie(tuture, condlucting ( lose air ý'uppw t in bad weat her 111a\be possible. Until that da\ ho\eeair and ('1`000icommanders must be aware that \\(eathert tan have a ~~nificant effect on their plans.

Close air support may.1 not a I\\ a\ s be available 'ein the presence o1 a large air to)rte. 1First, the need 1wr I!may be higher on some other part of the tront. 5eýontland crucial for the g'round tomniander to understand.other missions, s uic-h as air su IP( rioritv or rinterdictionlmay have higher theater priorit% . V, dis, LiS,-(I in l hap-ter 3, air suiperiority Is a theatel 1, iece'Itv. U11til t 1-won, anv effort not cýontribu~ting to it is diversionary and

112 The Air Caxipagn/ Warden

should onl\ be undertaken in emergency situations,when the risks and rewards have been carefully consid-ered.

As an example, Kenney refused air support to theAustralians attacking Salamaua; he needed to concen-trate his forces against Rabaul to win the air superioritythat was a sine qua non for the overall campaign. 11

The air component commander and the theatercommander must consider the cost of providing closeair support. It almost always will cost something/even ifthat something is only lost opportunity. We saw at thebeginning of this chapter how the German army realizedlate in the war that it had misused the air force by com-mitting it so heavily to close support. The Americansand British won the war, but they also debated theefficacy of close air support.

The most notable debate was over bomber supportfor the Normandy invasic,;.

The air force had argued strenuously that thebig bombers should continue their effortsagainst the German homeland. The CombinedChiefs overruled the air arguments andordered maximum bomber operations inFrance. Normandy was a big success andwouldn't have been without heavy air support.Nevertheless, the cost for diverting thebombers was a three-month delay in attackson the German petroleum industry.

Would the war have ended sooner if the Germanshad run out of fuel for their tanks and aircraft threemonths before they did?

Obviously, this question can't be answered, nor is itnecessary to answer it. The point is that the Allies paid adefinite price for diverting air away from Germany. Wasthe price right? It may well have been, but the price wasthere just as it will be there in future conflicts. Com-manders must decide what they want to pay.

Close Air Support 113

1, A.r F-r4 e Photo

An A-10 Thunderbolt II banks to the right. The aircraft can carry fourMaverick Scene Magnification missiles and an electronic counter-measures pod. Known as the "Tank Buster," the A-10 is a close-sup-port attack aircraft developed as a special ground-attack aircraft.

Like interdiction, close support seems to work bestwhen the ground situation is dynamic. Close supporthas the capability to make holes that can be exploitedoffensively, and it has the capability to do seriousdamage to enemy offensives. It does not seem to workas well under relatively static circumstances.

This chapter has examined what close air supportcan do for the ground commander. It also hasattempted to show that close air support is not withoutproblems. A price is attached to it. Put in proper per-spective, and used appropriately, it can make a big dif-ference in the ground situation. It can provide theground commander the wherewithal to do things hecouldn't do without far more troops and artillery-andvery mobile ones at that.

To this point in the book, we have covered thethree traditional combat missions for air-air superi-ority, interdiction, and close air support.


Before attempting to put it all together for campaignplanning, we need to consider one other topic that isgenerally not considered in connection with air opera-tions. In the next chapter, we will look at reserves to seehow they might affect the air war.

8. Reserves

THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT OPERATIONAL RESERVES-a conceptthat has received little attention in discussions of airoperations. The fact that it receives little attention indi-cates one of two things: Either the conventional wisdomis correct, in assuming that the subject of "reserves" isnot applicable to air war, or that it has been ignoredmistakenly and is in fact quite important.

Our hypothesis is the latter.On 16 May 1940, Winston Churchill made a desper-

ate trip to Paris, where he asked the French high com-mand overseeing the hasty retreat of its forces in frontof the German offensive through the Ardennes, "Ou estla masse de manoeuvre?" ("Where are the reserves?")The answer was, "-I n'y a aucune!" ("There is none!")'

Just months after the disaster in France, Churchillwas in the command post of Number 11 Group watchingthe progress of the Royal Air Force (RAF) defense againstthe greatest German raid to that date on London. Hehad just seen Air Vice Marshal Park commit his last sixsquadrons to the battle and simultaneously call on hisneighboring commander, Air Vice Marshal Leigh-Mal-lory for all his forces. Churchill asked Park what else hehad in reserve. Park answered, "Nothing." All his forceshad been committed.2

RESERVES MAY HELP BETIER THE ODDS The theoryof reserves is not easy to grasp especially on an emo-tional level. We are inclined to feel that a unit not com-mitted to the battle somehow is not pulling its weight.

115


We tend to think of Henry V's injunction of, "Oncemore unto the breach, dear friends, or close up the wallwith our English dead." We think in terms of gatheringour strength and charging the objective with everythingwe have. We accept, perhaps on a visceral level, thetheory of concentration and mass, and interpret thistheory to mean all of our resources.

We calculate ratios and, never quite comfortablewith our superiority (or lack thereof), want to make theodds better. We add more forces in the belief that weare increasing our chance of success or decreasing ourchance of failure. In a certain sense, none of thesethoughts is entirely wrong; in fact, in a perfectly predict-able world, each might be entirely right. But if the worldwere perfectly predictable, war would never happen.The antagonists, knowing the outcome by virtue ofmathematical analysis, would sign the armistice termsbefore the first bullet flew. War is, of course, an inten-sely human activity. It defies prediction. That reason is akey to why reserves came to be so important for landwarfare.

Clausewitz spoke of the fog of war, the friction ofwar, and the uncertainty of war. Nothing can c!irninatethese hindrances to perfect action, but reserves canameliorate their negative consequences in at least twomajor ways. First, they provide a commander the where-withal to exploit an error or failing by the enemy. Hecan pour into the battle masses of fresh troops whohave the potential to break remaining enemy resistanceand force a retreat or rout. On the other hand, reservescan be thrown against an enemy attempt to exploit acommander's own error. The arrival of strong, freshforces may break the enemy attack and restore theline-whether actual on the ground or conceptual in theair.

The point could be made that a sufficiently smartcommander ought to be able to anticipate either ofthese situations, and put requisite forces into action at

Reserves 117

the start ot the battle. A (ertain theoretical validitv canbe given to this argument-although the uncertaintiesot war make the move trom theory to practice virtuall\,impossible. What the argument ignores is that the intro-

duction ot reserves in ettect creates an entirely new bat-tle, or at least a distinctive new phase.

Up to the time when reserves enter the fray, theopponent is dealing with relativel\, known quantitiesdoing relatively Obvious things. Reserves immediatelyincrease the uncertainty tactor by dramatically changingthe quantitative and manuever equations. In otherwords, the impact ot the sudden appearance of a newdivision on the battletield 1, entirely different from theimpact that same division would have made had it beenon the line trom the onset ot action.

Fog and triction are hindrances to one's own action,but to the extent that thevy can be inflicted on the enemycommander, the, become allies. Reserves can help inthis process because their mere existence means theenemy commander must take their possible employ-ment into account. Since he doesn't know where theymav he committed-or whether a given commitment isa feint or real--he must spend time thinking aboutthem. And he probablv will have to deploy his ownforces somewhat difterently than he would if noreserves faced him.

Subsumed under the broad concept of reserves aresome rather elusive principles on how they should beused. Elusive is the only applicable word, for theyamount to such useful exhortations as "do the rightthing!" A noble expression to be sure, but one difficultto enact. One of the more popular, and actually morevaluable, principles applied to reserves is the injunctionagainst committing them piecemeal. This principle hasbeen taught in militarv schools tor centuries-and it hasbeen ignored time atter time with normally disastrousresults.

118 The Air Campaign, Warden

SHOCK VALUE OF RESERVES CAN BE VALUABLE Ex-plaining why reserves should not be committed piece-meal is not too difficult: Reserves seem to be mostvaluable when their appearance shocks enemy troopsand commanders. Actually, the mental shock to theenemy may be more important than the physical effectof the reserves. A physical effect, though, can beexplained by the principles of momentum. Momentumis a product of mass and velocity. Assuming a constantvelocity, the momentum, the force with which some-thing strikes, will be in direct proportion to its mass.

Combining the moral and the physical, we can seewhy committing reserves piecemeal makes little sense.Piecemeal commitments, because they are incremental,lose much of their ability to induce confusion and fearin the mind of the enemy, Adapting to a gradual changein a situation is far easier than to have to adapt to a sud-den and massive change. Second, its potential momen-tum, and thus its physical shock power, is reducedproportionally to the division of the reserve into smallparts.

The next two principles for the use of reserves aresimple to state: Don't commit too soon, and don't com-mit too late.

Clearly, determining what is too early and what istoo late must be a highly subjective process. It may evenbe a work of sheer artistry or genius. The idea is that anybattle-or even an entire war-has certain points wherethe situation is precarious enough, or close enough toequilibrium, that the application of a new force will havean effect all out of proportion to its comparative size.Judging that point or moment is not easy.

Confederate General Robert E. Lee thought ithad arrived when he sent General George E.Pickett across a mile of open terrain on thethird day of the Battle of Gettysburg.

Reserves !19

Lee guessed wrong-and lost a battle and doomed hiscause. Conversely,

Lin Piao made a perfect decision on commit-ting the Chinese-in the sense that Chinaconstituted a strategic reserve for the NorthKoreans-against MacArthur. A few weeksearlier would have required extended lines ofcommunication against a still concentratedAmerican force, while weeks, or perhaps evendays, later would have found MacArthur dugin and massed on the south banks of the Yalu.

Timing is everything.The examples cited and the analogies drawn have

so far been from land war. Are the principles applicableto air war? In very broad, theoretical terms one wouldconclude a priori that they must be. Certainly, theminds of enemy airmen and their commanders are sub-ject to shock, just as are the minds of ground soldiers.Likewise, the physical principle of momentum applies asmuch in the air as it does on the land. The question is,however, whether the theory translates to practice.

SORTIE NOT FLOWN IS NOT A SORTIE LOST Flyershave a saying that notes graphically how useless is run-way behind them, once their aircraft has touched downfor landing. A similar view suggests that a sortie notflown is a sortie forever lost. A general feeling exists thataircraft are to be flown as frequently as maintenancerequirements allow, and that a target of some sort willbe there for each sortie. These ideas produce a generalbelief that the concept of reserves does not apply to airoperations. In fact, few historical instances exist whereair was consciously kept in reserve.

Two exceptions, however, are fascinating. Oneactually took place during the Battle of Britain, and theother was planned, but never occurred, in the air battleover Germany. Let us review both.


The Battle of Britain began on 8 August 1940,when the Germans opened a campaign in ear-nest to seize air superiority over Britain to pre-pare the way for an invasion. 3 The fighterforces opposing each other were roughlyequal, but for the British fighters, the Germanbombers were the target. The Germans hadabout as many bombers as the British hadfighters so, in total, the Luftwaffe outnum-bered the Royal Air Force (RAF) 2 to 1.4

(This ratio ignores the British bomber command which,although two-thirds the size of its Luftwaffe counterpart,did not make any serious attacks on German fighterbases and thus played no direct role in the Battle of Brit-ain.)

Despite the numerical superiority of the Germans,the British commander,

Air Marshal Dowding, kept about a third of hisfighter forces away from the battle zone,where they were not subject to attack. Neithercould they participate in the war. The Britishmaintained a reserve even during whatChurchill called Britain's darkest hour. On topof this, Dowding's two subordinate com-manders, Park and Leigh-Mallory, maintainedtheir own reserves.5

These reserves, Dowding's strategic reserve and thesector commanders' operational reserve, played a key, ifnot decisive, part in winning the battle for Britain andaverting an invasion.

Until the first week in September, the Germansconducted an amateurish attack on Britain that wascharacterized by shifting objectives from fighter bases toproduction to shipping. They had failed to follow up onthe first day's strikes against British radar. They triedescorted and unescorted bombing missions. When their

Reserves 121

fighters did accompany the bombers, they used closeescort tactics. Thev frequently failed to concentrate orto coordinate raids on the same dav. Despite all theseerrors, they were making progress. The RAF was begin-ning to suffer badly.,

Then, at the end of the first week in September,Hermann Goering, Nazi Germany's air chief, made amomentous decision which Hitler fully endorsed.

The British, some days earlier, had carried outa militarily insignificant raid on Berlin. An infu-riated Hitler agreed to shift the focus of hisattack on Britain from military targets toLondon. Many in the Luftwaffe were pleasedwith the decision that they had been urging forthe past two weeks. They thought that it wouldforce the RAF into a decisive air battle. 7

They neglected, however, the other side of thecoin: By concentrating the Luftwaffe on London, pres-sure on fighter fields would subside and, more impor-tantly, the British themselves could concentrate againstthe Luftwaffe more effectively.

The Germans finally decided that the time was rightfor the final blow.

Every aircraft that could be made serviceablewas to participate in a coup de grace plannedfor 15 September. The British, in part throughUltra intercepts, knew that the Germansplanned their big thrust for the 15th. Conse-quently, Dowding used his strategic reserve tobring every fighter unit in Park's and Leigh-Mallory's sectors up to strength. He also putfewer than the usual number of fighters in theair on 14 September, leading the Germans tothink they were winning, and also givingFighter Command a chance to prepare for thenext day's action.8


On 15 September, the British met the Germansin mass. Park committed his operationalreserve of six squadrons and asked that Leigh-Mallory bare his sector in order to send all ofhis forces south to hit the Germans. Leigh-Mallory not only did so, but some of his forcesattacked in full wing formation.

As a result of the British use of reserves (and mass), theGermans suffered such heavy losses that they con-cluded the RAF was so far from being beaten that theLuftwaffe did not have the time or resources to do thejob. Within days, they shifted to useless night bombingsof London."

AIR RESERVES WON THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN Com-mitment of air reserves had won the Battle of Britain,had precluded a German amphibious invasion, and inmany ways had turned the tide of the war.

Three years after the Battle of Britain, the Americandaylight bombing campaign was beginning to cause theGermans problems. As previously noted,

the German commander of fighter forces,Adolf Galland, had decided that having a 3- or4-to-1 advantage over the attacking bomberswas necessary, to be able to inflict militarilysignificant losses on them.

(This decision was made before American bombers hadfighter escorts for missions over Germany!)

Because of requirements on other fronts, Luftwaffefighter strength in Germany was too low to achieveratios of fighters- to-bombers of much more than 1-to-1,and that only occasionally. Galland on three occasionsproposed to Goering and Hitler that new productionand newly trained pilots be withheld from the defenseof Germany until sufficient strength was on hand to

Reserves 723

meet the Americans with at least 3-to-1 superiority. Hisfirst plea, in the spring of 1943, included a suggestionthat fighters be withdrawn from other fronts; his pleawas rejected on the basis that it might lead to lostground in Russia or in North Africa."'

Galland made his next request the following spring.He proposed pulling all fighters out of France to con-centrate them against the American bombers. Goeringrefused again, this time because of the expected inva-sion.

During the summer of 1944, American bomberattacks became intolerable. Obviously, to men like Gal-land and Albert Speer, organizer of war production andforced labor for Nazi Germany, the war would be lost ifsomething were not done about the bombers. There-fore, Galland again proposed building a huge reservefor commitment on a single day. He intended to assem-ble and train this force to put 2,000 fighters in the air onthe first day in late fall that the weather was suitable. Hisobjective was to destroy 400 to 500 bombers, with aprobable loss of about the same number of Germanfighters. He believed that one or two days of such losseswould make the Americans stop the bomber campaignfor an extended period. During that time, Gallandhoped his country would have sufficient respite to bringthe new jet fighter into service, to restore aviation fuelproduction, and to train enough new fighter pilots thatthe Americans would face overwhelming odds whenthey resumed the campaign.)2

Would Galland's plan have worked? There is a highprobability that it would have.

In the fall of 1943, the American bomber offensivewas called off after the 12 to 16 percent losses sufferedin October. A loss of 400 to 500 bombers would havebeen equivalent to a 25 to 50 percent loss rate. Suchlosses would have seriously damaged virtually every par-ticipating unit. The shock itself, after a long period ofdeclining losses, would have been dramatic to flyer and


commander alike. The proposed ratios of 4-to-1 wouldalmost certainly have been adequate to accomplish thejob. Why didn't it work? Very simply, Hitler disbandedthe reserve and committed it in support of the 1944Ardennes counteroffensive. 3

There, operating in a strange environment in badweather, flying missions for which it had not trained,and committed against dispersed targets of only tacticalimportance, the reserve disintegrated. And so waswasted Germany's last hope to avoid destruction.

RESERVES CAN BE APPLICABLE TO AIR OPERA-TIONS These two examples from World War IIwould seem to suggest that air reserves can be ofextraordinary importance. Also, they show that the the-ory of reserves can be applicable to air operations. Dothey mean that there must always be an operational orstrategic reserve? The answer to that is not clear. The USAir Force has never kept a reserve (although in a sense,its production capacity gave it a strategic reserve inWorld War II). One could say that its unbroken string ofvictories since 1943 suggests that it did not need areserve. Of course, in every conflict since then it hasbeen on the offensive (even if highly circumscribed inKorea and Vietnam), with overwhelming numericalsuperiority. The two air forces in our examples were onthe defensive and were numerically inferior. Revertingto our theoretical discussion, we recall that reservesseem to be most useful when the situation is unstableand susceptible to being unbalanced by the addition ofa new force.

These observations would lead us to suspect that airreserves then are most needed when the enemy is equalor somewhat stronger than oneself.

In addition to the theory and examples cited above,some work done with computer war games suggests theutility of air reserves. A brief explanation of one gamewill help. The simulation started with an enemy

Reserves 125

numerically superior on the ground and in the airmaking attacks across a broad front, but more stronglyon some areas of the front than on others. The first stepof the game was to see how close air support sortiesshould be apportioned. It turned out, as an exponent ofconcentration might have expected, that putting themajority of close air support against a particular enemythrust was far more beneficial than spreading it out overthe entire line.

The next step was to examine the possibility thatclose air support might be more effective on day two orthree-or even later-than it was on day one. Beforedetailing that trial, it is necessary to discuss the initialassumptions on how close air support would be used.

The standard assumption is that as many close airsupport sorties should be flown as possible on day one.Thereafter, a decreasing number will be flown becauseof attrition. On a graph, this system would show up as adescending line, starting at a high number on day oneand falling to a relatively low number at so many daysinto the future. In real life, the line might not bestraight; rather, it might be a descending sine wavereflecting surge capabilities and other factors. Neverthe-less, the straight line probably is not a bad approxima-tion for average outcomes.

What can be done to change the graph?Several different schemes for using sorties are pos-

sible. First, no sorties could be flown until day two orthree. Then, the graph would look the same, but itwould start two days to the right of the ordinate. Ignor-ing possible destruction of aircraft on the ground, thisprovision would mean that the full weight of close airsupport would hit the enemy on his second or third dayof operations. Under some circumstances, the suddenonslaught of previously unseen close air support mighthave as much of an impact on enemy operations ascommitment of a large ground reserve. The idea ofholding ground forces in reserve for a period of time iswell accepted. Should air forces be treated differently?


Second, the line could be kept horitontal by decid-ing on some level of sorties that could be maintainedover time. Although that level clearly would be muchless than maximum surge capability, it would be higherat the end of the period than if a standard approachwere used.

The last theoretically possible variation is an ascend-ing line, on which sorties on day one start out at a verylow level and increase over time. Attaining the samenumber of sorties on the last day as could be achievedon the first day with a maximum effort is not possible,for obvious reasons. However, flying more sorties onthe last day than would be available using the otherschemes is possible.

WAR EFFORTS COME IN SURGES One benefit fromvarying the sortie pattern comes from the predictionthat not every day of battle is equally important foroneself or for the enemy. In fact, effort in war comes inspurts and surges, rather than some inexorable pressurelike a flowing river. Lulls between enemy offensive ordefensive surges offer opportunities that can beexploited if force is available to do so.

The theater commander would like to be able toconcentrate ground and air power to take advantage ofthese opportunities, but he can't if close air has beenexpended in some mechanical way. Thus, a sortie maybe more valuable on one day than on another. And asortie that is available on a later day because an aircraftwas not previously lost in combat or is not down forneeded maintenance may not be a wasted sortie by anymeans. Indeed, a sortie saved is worth more than a sor-tie rashly used. The computer game tended to show thata concentration of sorties, made available by holdingback in the beginning of the battle, could be beneficial.

So far, we have discussed producing reserves byrearranging sortie production patterns. The sameobviously can be done by holding units out of the

Reserves 127

battle, as the British did In 19-40. One counter argumen t

is that air, because of its mobility, can be shifted quicklyfrom one chore to another and thus constitutes its ownreserve. In theory, that may be true. But in practice, atleast when the situation has been tense, no one hasbeen willing to relinquish the support he was receivingfrom air. As we earlier mentioned, the Gernmans on theRussian front had devoted most of their air effort toclose support. Thev finallv realized that their air supportshould be striking behind the lines, and actually shiftedit to do so. The cries of anguish trom ground com-manders were so loud, however, that the new missionwas quickly aborted.14

The commander with numerical superiority has abetter chance of shifting effort than the commanderwho must strain to do the minimum things that needdoing. The beauty of an air reserve, controlled by the aircomponent and theater commanders, is that it can bethrown in without taking anything away from anyone.Lastly, great advantage can be gained, as the British dis-covered, if some system allows the rotation of battle-weary units off the front to allow them to rest andrecuperate.

Historical examples are too tew and far removed intime to establish the absolute need for air reserves.With the theory added, however, the case seems at leaststrong enough to merit a commander's consideration,especially if he expects to meet a numerically superiorfoe.

9. The Orchestrationof War

THE THEATER COMMANDER AND HIS COMPONENT COMMANDERSare responsible for conducting military operations thatwill lead to attainment of political objectives specifiedby the leaders of their country. To do so, they employthe air, sea, and ground forces needed to attain a mili-tary objective that supports the political objective of thewar. The political and military objectives of both sidestogether establish the nature of the conflict.

Our purpose here is not to delve deeply into philo-sophical and theoretical questions surrounding politicaland military objectives; however, commanders at theoperational level must consider the relationshipsbetween political and military objectives if they are todo their jobs properly.

POLITICAL, MILITARY OBJECTIVES ARE RELATEDThe political objective of a war can range from demand-ing unconditional surrender to asking the opponent togrant favorable terms for an armistice. The militaryobjective that will produce the desired behavior on thepart of the enemy will be related to the political objec-tive and will in turn heavily influence the campaign plandesigned to attain it. Examples from history abound.

In World War II, the political objective of theWestern Allies was the unconditional sur-render of Germany and Japan. The military

129


a'

dlJw

UISAF Photographic ( ol' lion. Nahiomal A,, s pa~t %Au'.eunm smIh'(,•,a,•n h•i.,t 1

A B-17 Flying Fortress of the 8th Air Force unloads a lethal load ofdestruction in a daylight attack on Berlin on 29 April 1944.

objective given to all theater commanders wasdestruction of the enemy's armed forces pre-paratory to invasion of the homelands. TheAllies actually destroyed most of Germany'sarmed forces, and most of her war industry, asthey drove toward the heartland. In the case ofJapan, the Allies strangled the home islandswith sea and air power, eventually substitutingaerial bombardment for ground invasion.

Both countries surrendered unconditionallybecause they had lost the ability to protect their peopleand maintain the integrity of the state. It is not conceiv-able that either would have surrendered unconditionallywhile they possessed effective means of resistance. Themilitary objective thus had to be the virtual disarming of

The Orchestration of War I I

the enemy state by destruction ot one or all of thebranches of its armed forces, or by vitiation of its armedtorces by denying them materiel needed to operateoffensively or defensively.

The defeat of Germany and lapan exemplify thepure, unconstrained strategic offensive in pursuit of anunconstrained political objective. At the other end orthe scale was North Vietnam's war against the UnitedStates.

The North Vietnamese had a simple politicalobjective: They wanted the United States towithdraw from Indochina. They estimated thatthe Americans would only invest a certainamount of time, money, and lives in the enter-prise. If the North Vietnamese could forcetheir enemy to go beyond those limits, victorywould be theirs. Thus, the North Vietnamesemilitary objective was to inflict human andmonetary costs on the Americans over anextended period of time. Given the enormousmilitary power of the United States, theaccompanying campaign plan had to be a stra-tegic defensive. It succeeded.

Looking at World War II and the Vietnamese Wartogether allows us to note simple principles that can bequite valuable.

0 First, nobody gives up everything until furtherresistance becomes obviously either futile or physicallyimpossible.

* Second, the degree of pain that a state will endureis related to what it is asked to give up. The UnitedStates was only asked to give up its position in indo-china-something it did not view as particularly impor-tant. Contrast that feeling with the US reaction whenJapan asked the United States to give up dominance inthe whole Pacific Basin.

132 The Air CarnpaigniWarden

* Third, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Indo-china was a sparkling jewel worth any sacrifice for theNorth Vietnamese. But for the Americans it was a dankjungle with only theoretical interest stemming from con-tainment doctrine.

* Fourth, and related to the last principle, is that theintensity of the fight is established by the side that hasthe greatest interest and will-not by the side with theleast. In Vietnam, therefore, America's campaign couldnot be based on her level of interest in the region if itwere to succeed. Instead, it had to be based on whatwould make the North Vietnamese lose interest.

* Fifth, and perhaps most important, military objec-tives and campaign plans must be tied to political objec-tives as seen through the enemy's eyes, not one's own.Failure to follow this cardinal precept has led state afterstate down the primrose path to embarrassment, ordefeat.

THEATER COMMANDER'S POSITION IS UNIQUE Inmany cases, the theater commander may not have muchsay in establishing political objectives or even militaryobjectives. He may be given both and told to develop acampaign plan simply to attain the latter. In some cases,however, he will be in a unique position to spot logicalinconsistencies or physical problems not known ormissed at the strategic level of command. The Germansencountered problems of this sort on the Russian frontduring World War II.

In the first instance (spotting logical inconsisten-cies), the General Staff opposed Hitler's plan to conquerthe Caucasus region for economic exploitation beforedefeating Soviet ground armies.'

In the second case (spotting physical problems), thepolitical leadership wanted to capture Soviet industryintact; therefore, it forbade the Luftwaffe to conduct asustained campaign against Soviet armament factories in

The Orchestration of War 1,33

the first part of the war, even though doing so was acompelling military necessity.'

In both cases, the supreme command refused thecounsel of the military and consequently made the lobsot operational commanders more difficult or evenimpossible. These disagreements will arise in virtuallyevery war. The operational commander must make hisviews known, but he also must be ready with con-tingency plans in the event he is overruled.

Under some circumstances, the theater commanderand his component commanders may be able to influ-ence or even write the military objective for the war.What must they consider? The military objective mustlead to the political objective, and the commander musthave in place, or have guaranteed to him, adequateforces to attain the objective. Military objectives willvary substantially, but they tend to fall in one of threecategories.

First, the military objective can be the destruction-or neutralization through maneuver-of some or all otthe enemy's forces. The necessary degree of destructionwill depend on the importance of the political objectiveas seen by the enemy. It also will depend on theenemy's capacity, as was the case in the Falklands war.

Great Britain won by destroying enough of theArgentine air force and navy that furtherArgentine operations on the Falklands Islandswere impossible. The Argentineans werebeaten even though large ground forces wereavailable on the mainland.

Second, the military objective can be the destruc-tion of some or all of the enemy's economy, especiallyhis war-related economy. Japan surrendered becauseshe no longer was able to protect herself from aerialattack and her industry was collapsing around her. Sim-ilarly, the destruction by air bombardment of petroleumproduction and internal transportation networks made


Germany unable to wage modern war by the end of1944. In both cases, destruction of key war industrieswas either complete or threatened to become so veryquickly. Similarly, but at the other end of the scale,Israel attained her political objective of stopping Iraqinuclear arms development by using her air force on 7June 1981 to destroy Iraq's nuclear research center-themilitary objective.

Third, the military objective in support of a politicalobjective, such as unconditional surrender, can be thedestruction of the will to resist, either the will of thegovernment or the will of the people. This objective istenuous because it is difficult to get at "will" withoutdestroying either armed forces or economy. In otherwords, the will to resist collapses when the armedforces no longer can do their job or when the economyno longer can provide essential military-or civilian-services. judging the will to resist also is very difficult, asthe following example indicates:

Almost anyone in 1941 would have judged theGermans to be more rational than the Jap-anese, yet it was the Japanese who surren-dered when reason demanded it-even whilesignificant ground and air forces were stillintact.

While direct attacks on the enemy civilian popula-tion may seem a viable way of breaking the national will(moral objections aside), difficulties abound. Popula-tions have proven resilient, and the people may have lit-tle influence on the decisionmaking of their rulers. Theindirect approach to the people is another matter. TheNorth Vietnamese essentially attacked the will of theAmerican people to resist. Similarly, the Allies in WorldWar I succeeded in significant part because theeconomic blockade made life in Germany almostunbearable.3

The ( )r( hestration ot War

"LIBERATORS INSTEAD OF DESTROYERS" In WorldWar I, however, the Germans were not ruled bv an irra-tional tvranny. One other possibilitv should be consid-ered. The will to resist sometimes can be broken withkindness rather than with destruction. In retrospect, theGermans possibly could have deteated the Soviets hadthey gone into the Ukraine and other colonized areas asliberators, rather than as destrovers.

When a military objective has been chosen, it isnecessary to act. To help guide the thinking needed todecide on a course of action, an analogy from personalcombat is useful to suggest. When two antagonistsmeet, thev have several choices. They can stand toe totoe and trade blows with each other until the weakerantagonist finally collapses. Assuming roughly equalstrength at the outset, the outcome largely will dependon who can absorb the most punishment.

Another possibilitv is for one fighter to move in,strike a blow, and retire before the opponent canrespond. In this case, the winner probably will be thesmarter and faster fighter. If he has executed well, hema,, not suffer much in the process.

The third approach involves doing something unex-pected, like using a club, pulling a third partv into thefight, or striking indirectly at the antagonist bv kickingover his water bucket or eliminating his manager. Givenenough time, any such feint mav do the trick at littlecost.

The American bomber offensive against Ger-many in World War II started out like twofighters exchanging blows. It almost failedbecause the Germans were able to knockdown too many machines and crews. Theoffensive shifted gears with the introduction oflong-range fighter escort. The escortingfighters then took over the role of the fast-moving, in-and-out puncher and kept the Ger-mans sufficiently at bay to permit the bombers

136 The Air Cam paign/ Warden

to do their work. Finally, the bomber offensiveturned on German petroleum and therebyremoved the sustenance of the entire warmachine.

Could the order of the offensive phases have beenreversed? In retrospect, early destruction of thepetroleum system would have shortened the war andwould have been a quicker means to an end than wasthe campaign that started out directly against aircraftand aircraft manufacturing.

The analogy from personal combat intimates thatthe first possibility, the toe-to-toe slugging match, is theleast attractive and the least likely to be adopted. In fact,it is the orthodox approach and the one that most com-manders have adopted for most campaigns and battlesrecorded in military history. The choice of an in-and-outcampaign or of an indirect approach has been relativelyrare and therefore is, by definition, radical. Theorthodox approach also is, at the risk of oversimplifica-tion, the typical American approach and has been sosince General Ulysses S. Grant's successful siege ofVicksburg* during the US Civil War. It certainly was thehigh command choice in World War II, when Marshallenvisioned a relentless frontal attack on the Germanhomeland, powered by American industry and led byoverwhelming firepower.4

The initial concept of the air campaign against Ger-many in World War II was the same-a massive frontalassault that would roll over the opposition. The South-west Pacific campaign was an anomaly in the last centuryof American military history, as were the first six monthsof the Korean campaign.

* Vicksburg held a strategic location on the Mississippi River, halfwaybetween Memphis and New Orleans. It was besieged for 47 daysduring Grant's campaign for control of the Mississippi River, beforesurrendering on 4 July 1863.

/he ()rchestratlion ot War 137

"RADICAL" IDEAS MAY BE OPPOSED This fact ofhistory, and especially of American militarv history, isrelevant for the operational commander who might pro-pose something other than orthodoxy. He must realizethat officers on his own staff, and especially in higherstaffs, will strongly oppose his "radical" ideas. They willdo so with the best ot motives, sincere in their beliefthat they are protecting against flights of fancy andagainst reckless adventures that mav well lead to disas-ter. They could be riitht. The burden of convincing thedeciding authorities that they are not will rest with theoperational commander.

One (ould argue that the orthodox approach hasworked acceptably well for the United States for morethan a century and that it would thus be foolish tochange it. Such might be the case if conditions remainsimilar to those encountered in past wars. In every warthe United States has fought since the War of 1812, thecountry has had an industrial base capable of out-producing by far her every enemy. In the twentiethcentury, she also commanded the combined technol-ogy-production front. In any war to be fought in thefuture, the Americans possiblv could follow the old con-servative ways, as long as the enemy is disadvantaged inmateriel and technology. If the enemy is not, then theold ways may be a recipe for disaster. Convincing keysubordinate and superior officers that conditions havechanged sufficiently to invalidate more than a century ofexperience may be exceedingly difficult.

The conceptual problems just discussed apply to allof our cases, but the\, are particularly pertinent to CaseI, in which both sides in the conflict commence withapproximately equal vulnerabilities. If the enemy isequal or superior in manpower and production, afrontal assault may not be the answer. If he is decidedlyinferior, then it mav not matter-although the conserva-tive approach possibly will take longer and cost more inblood and treasure than would an alternative. In chapter


4, we developed outlines for an offensive air superioritycampaign and saw illustrations from the American expe-rience against Germany in World War II. The Army AirForces conducted that campaign very traditionally-even though the objective of the campaign was radicaland untried-at least until the time when bomber lossesbecame almost prohibitive.

The same thing possibly could be done in a situa-tion where both sides have vulnerable bases, althoughactual conduct of the campaign would be made moredifficult by enemy action against base areas. What gen-eral rules, then, can be adduced for conducting a cam-paign?

CENTER OF GRAVITY MUST BE IDENTIFIED In allcases, the enemy center of gravity must be identifiedand struck. For the air superiority campaign, that centerof gravity can be any of the areas enumerated in chapter4-enemy air equipment (aircraft and missiles), enemylogistics, enemy personnel, or enemy command andcontrol. In choosing the appropriate center of gravityand in devising means to strike at it, the disposition ofenemy forces can be especially important.

The Case I situation evokes the image of two oppos-ing lines, or perhaps concentric circles, of opposing cas-tles, where either side can sally forth and even besiegean individual castle- mindful, of course, that help forthe besieged will shortly come from elsewhere in theline if action is not taken to block it.

The Case II situation suggests besiegers surround-ing a castle and attacking it at their leisure. The Case IIIsituation brings to mind a castle surrounded bybesiegers, under constant bombardment, and able onlyto defend. Finally, Case IV could be likened to a battletaking place midway between two castles, where theoccupants of both castles could hurl missiles at the com-batants, but not at the other castle.

The Orchestration ot War 139

Extending the castle analogy, we can conceive threebasic approaches to defeating the enemy.

The first is a broad front approach where the objectis to reduce every castle, either one by one or, if sutfi-cient forces are available, by simultaneous attack.

The second approach is to reduce one or two cas-tles, ignore the remainder, plunge through the gap, andwin by seizing the capital.

The third approach is to figure out a way to avoidthe castles entirely and go directly to the political centerof gravity-the capital or the king.

Assuming that all three approaches are physicallypractical, the third promises to be the quickest andcheapest, the second the next best, and the first theslowest and most costly.

The war against Japan could have been, and actuallywas, prosecuted using every one of these approaches.But the second and third proved decisive and provideexcellent models of how to plan an integrated campaignthat uses all available resources.

In the spring of 1942, the perimeter of the Jap-anese Empire ran from the Aleutians to Wake,through the Solomons to New Guinea, fromNew Guinea to Singapore via the NetherlandsEast Indies, and thence back to Japan by wayof Burma and China. The Japanese had roughlya 12,000-mile front that in its most crucial areaswas 2,500 miles from Tokyo. Following the Bat-tle of Midway, the Japanese found themselvesunable to move closer to Hawaii or to progressin the Aleutians. Consequently, they intendedto continue operations in China and Burmawhile making two major moves against theAmericans. The first of these major moves wasin the southern Solomons, where a base onGuadalcanal would give them the ability tointerdict American shipping to Australia. Thesecond was a move across the Owen Stanley


mountains to Port Moresby on the south coastof New Guinea, from where they couldthreaten Australia directly.5

What were the Allied choices to counter the Jap-anese?

One must remember that before World War II hadstarted for the United States, President Roosevelt andPrime Minister Churchill had agreed that the first pri-ority would be the defeat of Germany. Until victory wasassured in Europe, the Allies would stay on the strategicdefensive in the Pacific. The emphasis on defeating Ger-many first remained in effect throughout the war. But acombination of political and military factors quicklytransformed the strategic defensive in the Pacific to anexpedient offensive, albeit an offensive that sufferedbecause the European theater had first call onresources.

In a certain sense, the strategy against Japan at thehighest level was a broad front approach, with coun-terattacks to be launched in Burma, China, the south-west Pacific, the south Pacific, the central Pacific, thenorth Pacific, and finally, completing the circle, in thenorthwest, when the Russians could be induced to enterthe conflict. In fact, resources simply were not availablefor large-scale operations outside the southwest andcentral Pacific areas, so the grand broad front approachnever was seriously executed."

Any of the three approaches to reducing the Jap-anese citadel possibly could have been chosen, even inthe relatively bounded area of the southwest throughcentral Pacific. Keep in mind that this "bounded" areacreated a front of almost 6,000 miles. As a help in vis-ualizing the enormity of the area, consider that NewGuinea alone was longer than the entire Russian front,from the Caspian Sea to Leningrad. Early in the war, theidea was to move forces toward Japan for an eventualinvasion of the homelands. Given the geography, theseforces necessarily would have to mo~ve from island to

The Orchestration of War 147

- '-V Photogi raph. ( o dhi. hon. N atj i nal Air & 'Spi •te ,Mu• u n. 'sm ithsoni 3n In tdi uti in

A 8-24 Liberator, with landing flaps down, skims over nestinggoonie birds on Midway Island 21-24 December 1942, during a 7thAir Force bombing mission to Wake Island.

island, and all would have to be reduced in the process.Air was seen as an adjunct of ground and naval surfaceforces.-

The Joint Chiefs of Staff, in July 1942, directed thatthis methodical reduction process be started in theSouthwest Pacific theater (under General MacArthur)and in the South Pacific theater (under Admiral RobertLee Ghormley, commander of Allied naval forces in theSouth Pacific in 1942, who directed the attack against theSolomon Islands in August 1942). Admiral Ghormley wasto move up the Solomons chain toward the great Jap-anese base at Rabaul on New Britain, while GeneralMacArthur was to take northeast New Guinea, finish offthe Solomons, and finally lay siege to Rabaul."

After this part of the Japanese line was destroyed,the Joint Chiefs envisioned peripheral movements toreduce Japanese positions in the rest of New Guinea to

142 The Air Campaign ,Warden

the west and in the Ellice, Gilbert, Marshall, and Mar-ianas islands to the east and north.'

AIR SEEN AS A SUPPORTING ARM In this earlyperiod of the war, the principal commanders, includingGeneral MacArthur, continued to see air as a supportingarm. The evolution in thinking, especially on Mac-Arthur's part, makes the Pacific campaigns so importantto study and understand.

Recall from chapter 2 that MacArthur had made theradical decision to conduct an intermediate campaignfor air superiority. He was still thinking conventionally,however, in that he believed it necessary to reduceevery Japanese redoubt-or "castle," to continue theearlier analogy-in his area. He still thought it necessaryto occupy Japanese bases in northeast New Guinea,then those in the Bismarck archipelago, and finally toseize Rabaul at the north end of New Britain. After carry-ing out this conventional campaign, based on an uncon-ventional concept, he intended to continue thereduction of Japanese positions on the rest of NewGuinea, and then move further west toward Borneobefore starting island bv island towards the Philippines.

Then a radical idea came from an unexpectedsource, the Joint Chiefs in Washington."'

By the late summer of 1943, MacArthur hadmade significant progress in the Huon Penin-sula area of New Guinea (Lae, Finschafen, andSalamuau). This campaign was to lay the basefor the eventual investment of Rabaul. TheJoint Chiefs, however, in conjunction with theBritish at the Quadrant meeting in Quebec inAugust 1943, directed MacArthur to completethe Huon Peninsula operation and then tomove along the New Guinea coast toward Vol-gelkop. He was directed to bypass Rabaul, toleave it for neutralization by air attack as

The Orchestration of War 143

required. MacArthur had opposed leavingRabaul unoccupied, because in conventionalterms it was a serious threat to his right flank."

Although MacArthur had strongly opposed bypass-ing Rabaul, the Joint Chiefs directive to do so startedhim thinking about the possibility of bypassing otherplaces. Combining the concept of an air superioritycampaign with the concept of bypassing enemy posi-tions, MacArthur envisioned a campaign that would takehim to the Philippines, while whole armies of Jap-anese-but not Japanese air armadas-remained intactbehind his lines.

In brief, he captured only those areas necessarv tosupport air operations against Japanese airfields, andthen used the captured fields to extend air superiorityout as far as possible. Air superiority established, hejumped over intervening Japanese ground positions tooccupy new bases from which air superiority could befurther extended. He continued this process to LevteGulf, where he leaped beyond the range of his land air,and depended entirely on the cover of carrier air. Hisdecision might have led to catastrophe, because por-tions of the Japanese fleet succeeded in penetratingLeyte Gulf after the US 3rd Fleet moved away in pursuitof another portion of the Japanese fleet.' 2

General MacArthur recognized his error and back-tracked to establish land air bases on Mindoro-whichhe had intended to bypass-to support his invasion ofLuzon.13

The foregoing has been a necessarily brief accountof concepts and operations that carried MacArthur tothe Philippines in January 1945. The key lessons are sev-eral:

* Air superiority can be an end in itself, at least onan intermediate basis.

* Ground forces (and naval forces) can serve as anadjuiict to air forces in the battle for air superiority.

144 The Air Campalgn Warden

1 " ! h~llrl~l r lh n ll .~ % I I(•1 ', lr ', '(ticl *IU' •I+U'd Tf "Itclh h'ontjr I n..tILI111n

A B-25 Mitchell of the 5th Air Force takes part in a bombing run over

Boram Field, Wewak, during the New Guinea campaign.

* Penetrations on a huge operational scale can bemade- MacArthur's was over 2,000 miles deep and verynarrow-if the flanks can be covered by air, or sea.

* And bypassing-ignoring pockets of greatstrength can he feasible when they are neutralized orisolated.

Within the context of these very broad lessons, theSouthwest Pacific theater, as we saw in chapter 3, alsooffers rare insights in achieving air superiority. Addi-tionally, the war against Japan illustrates the possibilityof ignoring completely the line of "castles" and goingdirectly to the political center of gravity.

Identifying air superiority as the objective in theSouthwest Pacific theater did not make the gaining of airsuperiority happen. What made it happen was the

application of the general principles already discussed.In the Pacific, the means did not exist in the first threeyears of the war (up to 1944) to do much about the

rhe ( )r-hestration ol War 145

sOLI rce, (w -ilr( ralt and pilots. '-,imilarlv, no apparent waywas seen t) attack enemyi command and control on atheater ha-j-. Iha i ( k I ed t() di rect attacks on a Ircratand pero()nnel, atta( k, on lolgistics, and exploitation otdoctrinal ý,eakneý,,. \Ve aaw in chapter 2 how Generalkennev, :n a ,eri•e, ()t well-conceived operations,attacked and e,\)l( )ited all three areas.

BROAD FRONT, OR INDIRECT APPROACH The the-ater c(mmliander Lit (Jecidle whether to adopt a broadfront or Indirect approa(ch-or something in the middle.Ideally, lie would make a decision even before the war"began that w)uld provide a coherent plan leading to vic-tory, even it that \i(ttorv were years away. Given theuncertainti es, the fridtion and tog of war, the fact thatlie faces a human eneniv who will attempt to impose hiswill during the course o(f the conflict, and perhaps mostimportant, the tact that he will grow and learn as theda\'s pass,, he probabl\ ý,ill not be able to craft a perfectplan. I hu-,, ie mul,1 be rlexible and ready to changewhen circumtant(es (demand it.

Having ( hoen or been assigned a military objec-tive, and havwing chosen at least his initial broad plan,the theater ( commander must determine wvhether he canbest attain his objective with air, 5ea, or land force-. Allthree probablv will not have an equal role. It they donot, the key force must be identitied, so that the othertwo can stand in support.

The concept ot identitying a key force ma\ makesome people uncomfortable, especially if they are in anenvironment where inter-Service cooperation isstressed, and where (-ooperation means either subor-dination (air support of the army, tor example) or thateach Service has a precisely equal role, regardless of cir-cumstances. In former times, evervone accepted thefact that some things could be done only by a nav\-, andsome things (could onl\ be clone b1 an army. On occa-sion, a reason might exist for them to work together.

146 The Air Campaign,Warden

But for the most part, each had a specific lob to do thatif done correctly would lead to meeting the objectivesof the war. The only difference between then and nowis the third dimension of air power-which must beevaluated as a potential key force in the same way thatthe army or navy in the past was evaluated.

To understand the concept of a key force and therelationship among c "nenting forces, thinkingabout another art forr-, concerto-is helpful. Acomposer writes a concerto to say something, to attainsome objective. Having selected an objective, the com-poser decides how best to reach that objective. Shouldit be a piano concerto, a violin concerto, or a flute con-certo? Only one will get him to the objective he haschosen; clearly, a piano cannot say what a violin cansay, and vice versa. That he has chosen an instrument tobe his kev force does not mean that the other instru-ments do not have roles. To the contrary, the otherinstruments are vital, for they provide the support thatallows the key force to do things it could not do byitself.

During the course of the concerto, the key forcewill be the only instrument active at certain times; therest are in repose, awaiting their turn. At other times,the key force is silent while the complementing forcesbear the whole burden. The composer, and later, thedirector, has the task of orchestrating-not subordinat-ing nor integrating-his instruments so that each can doits job-whether that be as the key torce or the support-ing force. In the process, he does not try to make oneinstrument sound like another, or do another's job;rather, he uses each to do what it is naturally con-stituted to do and what only it is capable of doing.

Orchestration, not subordination or integration, isthe sine qua non of modern warfare.

If we carry the concerto analogy to the realms ofwarfare, we can say that a particular war, or campaign,or phase of a campaign could be a sea concerto if sea

The Orchestration it War 147

power were the key force. Likewise, we would say that awar or campaign was an air concerto if air forces had thedominant role. We also would say that the theater com-mander had the lob of orchestrating his forces in such awav as to achieve his objectives. How does the com-mander decide what his kev force in a campaign shouldbe?

SEA FORCES EASIEST TO CHOOSE OR REJECT Theeasiest of the three forces to choose or reject is the sea.It is clearly not appropriate if the campaign is against acontinental power that has little sea commerce andwhere the area of hostilities is not bordered by oceans.On the other hand, it may be entirely appr-priate if thecampaign is against an island power which can be iso-lated and starved into submission if its sea lines are cut.If the sea iS chosen as the ke, force for the campaign,air mav still be crucial to allow appropriate sea opera-tions. Ground forces may be needed to take or occupyland areas controlling critical sea passages.

Choosing between ground and air as the key forcefor the campaign is far more difficult; given enocughtime, money, and blood either can theoretically accom-plish what the other can do. That is, to kill ever\, enemyground soldier by air attack is theoretically possible, andcapturing and controlling enemy means of productionwith ground forces also is obviously possible. Let usbegin the decision process bv identifying clear-cutcases.

Ground must be the key force if air cannot make asubstantial or timel, contribution to the campaigneffort. Air is of marginal value in a fight against self-suIs-taining guerrillas who merge with the population. In thiscase, no significant target exists for air attack. Groundalso should be the key force if short-term occupation oflimited pieces of territory is the militarv objective foreither side and will in itself end the war-as did Germanoccupation of Prague in 1939. In the very short term. air

748 The Air CampaignI Warden

cannot stop large bodies of men. Interdiction takes timeto work; and attacks on war production take even moretime. Ground must be the key force if time is of theessence, and it is agreed that ground action can lead tothe political objective significantly faster than could airaction.

To some extent, time drove British and Ameri-can strategy against Germany. Quite conceiva-bly, Germany could have been defeatedthrough air attack. But the certainty of herdefeat by air alone decreased if the SovietUnion made a separate peace with the Ger-mans. Veiled Soviet threats to do so, if a sec-ond front in France was not openedexpeditiously, helped drive the British andAmericans to choose the ground approach,not the air approach.

Before discussing air as a key force, one mustremember two points about ground campaigns.

First, territory is a dangerous enchantress in war.Serious wars are rarely won by capturing territory,unless that territory includes a vital political oreconomic center of gravity, the loss of which precludescontinuing the war. The capture of France in 1940, sig-nificant though it was, did not win the war for the Ger-mans. France was not the center of gravity of the anti-Axis coalition-even before the United States enteredthe conflict. After World War II, the United States, notWestern Europe, became the center of gravity in anyconflict between the Soviets and the western powers.Territory may well be the political objective of a cam-paign, but it rarely should be the military objective. Ter-ritory will be disposed of at the peace conference as afunction of the political, military, and economic situa-tion at the war's end.

Second, assumptions about time are apt to be dan-gerous. Few things are more difficult to predict than

lhe ( )r hestrat1,on W War 149

how lon- a war or a campaign will last. Germanvplanned for a short war and was unable to endure a longone. Outside observer,; were almost unanimous in pre-dicting that the Soviets would tall bv Christmas 1941.MacArthur talked about sending troops home forChristmas from Korea in 1950. Johnson's ''end of thetunnel'' prediction was tragicall\ wrong in Vietnam. Incontrast, British and ,A\merican torces covered moreground after the breakout from Normandy in threemonths than they had planned to cover in a year.'-'

AIR MAY BE KEY FORCE Territory is beguiling andtime deceiving: The commander must beware of both.Air must be the key force when ground or sea forces areincapable of doing the job because of insufficient num-bers or inability to reach the enemv military center ofg ravi tv.

The German campaign against Britain afterDunkirk was based on air, because the armyand navy could not get at the British. Althougha submarine campaign was underway againstBritain at the same time the Battle of Britainwas in progress, the submarines could notdefeat Britain, nor could they establish theconditions needed for invasion. The Germannavy, then, was-or should have been-insupport of the primary air campaign.

Air may be the key force when enemy groundforces can be isolated or delayed while air worksdirectly against political or economic centers. Similarly,air could be the key if enemn, power were confined to arelatively small area, ,,uch as an island. Pantelleria, anisland between Malta and Tunisia, surrendered afterintensive air attack," and Malta, as previously men-tioned, was on the verge of surrendering. Air may bethe key for a phase or a campaign that is leading to apoint where sea or land becomes dominant. It should

I () rhe' Air (fX77paii-n 11',rdct?

B-24 Liberators of the 2nd Bomb Division, 8th Air Force, bombenemy harbor installations at Dunkirk, France, on 15 February 1943.

be the key it thle mili tar\ ohj'e tivec of the war Is destruc-tion of the enemy',, wxar produttion oapabilitv. Lastly, airmay be appropriate to ý'eleo as key, Under an evenwider variety of circumistan(. es It timle is not a signiticant(onstrairtit.

In the last several paragraphs, we have suggestedgu .idelines for deciding what the keyforce of a camn-paigqn should be. Mlvakingq the decision frequently will bedifIti(Ul t, but if is a task that Can not be ,h irked. Oncedecided, each participating component can see what itsrole is. When all these thin~gs are known. t he jealousyand Suspicion that Often are part and parcel of such anIntense humnan activity as w\ar wvill he less likely. Just as a(on (it to must have a key, torce to meet the Objective ofits composer, SO Mu~st a wvar plan have a key force.

The Orchestration of War I1

Unfortunatelv, however, many wars have beenfought when the "composer" had only an amorphousobjective and failed to identify a kev force, and wvhereeach "instrument" either thought it was dominant ordidn't realize what its role was in producing a coherentperformance. Wars ot this kind have been expensive-and frequently fatal.

The concepts of objectives and orchestration havebeen presented. So we can turn now to the air cam-paign itself, whether it is intended as the dominating orsupporting instrument of the concerto of violence.

10. Planning theAir Campaign

THE AIR CAMPAIGN MAY BE THE PRIMARY or supporting effortin a theater. In either event, an air campaign plan is anecessity. The plan should describe air centers of grav-ity, phasing of operations, and resources required. Itmust provide general guidelines for division of effortamong air superiority, interdiction, and close air sup-port. It should explain how other arms will support orbe supported.

Like the overall theater plan, it must carry throughto the conclusion of the war. We will address some ofthese areas in detail, but first let us review some criticalconcepts.

ENEMY'S PLANS MAY BE ANTICIPATED The natureof the enemy is quite important, especially if the aircampaign plan envisions anything other than straightattrition. More ways exist to categorize an enemy thancan reasonably be integrated and used. For example, hemay be rational, irrational, fanatic, rigid, flexible, inde-pendent, innovative, determined, or doctrinaire. To theextent that an enemy can be assigned to any of thesecategories, his plans may be anticipated, and the way hewill react to a new situation can be predicted. Historywill provide some help in assessing the enemy, althoughit would be foolish to suppose that straight line projec-tions of past behavior are going to be absolutely valid.

The other side of knowing the enemy is knowingoneself.

153

154 The Air Cam paignlWarden

Making plans requiring a high degree of initiativeand independence at every subordinate level may berisky, if peacetime training has emphasized detailedoperations orders issued from high staffs. Likewise, ifone's militarv has been thoroughly grounded in attritionwarfare and direct attack, selling a maneuver or indirectattack campaign plan may be quite difficult. This obser-vation is not meant to say that such plans should not beproposed; they should, ot course, but the author mustbe prepared for strenuous, honest opposition fromabove and below. The most important part of assessingone's own side is honesty. New tactics can be learnedduring the course of a war, but it is unlikely that thesame applies to new modes of behavior. Therefore, thecommander must accept the fact that he has certainhuman material with which to work and that everythingmust be built around the reality of his forces, not onhow he would like them to be.

Although preceding chapters have gone into greatdetail on air superiority, interdiction, and close air sup-port, the commander must decide in the campaign planhow these three elements of air operations are going tobe integrated. The right decision can lead to victory, thewrong decision to defeat. Let us start this difficult proc-ess by considering air superiority.

We maintain that a war is not winnable if the enemyhas air superiority. Indeed, no nation enjoying air supe-riority has ever lost a war by the force of enemy arms. Acommander who tries to win-or not lose-without airsuperiority is trying to do what no one has done before.Thus, the prudent commander will do what is necessaryto become superior in the air. (Conceivably, he couldeven withdraw on the ground to create conditions morefavorable for winning air superiority.) The first thing heought to do is make an assessment of where he standswith respect to his enemy.

Recall from chapter 1 the five cases that can con-front the commander as he starts his air superiority plan

Planning the Air Campaign 155

or campaign. Case III, where the enemy's bases cannotbe attacked, only allows for defense against enemyonslaughts. The situation is somewhat similar in Case IVwhere air operations can take place over the front, butnot in either contender's rear area. In this case, thecommander must decide how he is going to meet theenemy over the lines. Case V, with no combat air, is thesimplest; only contingency plans against introduction ofair need be made.

STATISTICS FAVOR THE SIDE THAT MOVES FIRSTTwo cases remain, and they are the toughest becausethey offer the most possibilities for good or ill. Of these,Case II is the most benign as it permits action againstthe enemy's bases while one's own bases are essentiallyimmune to attack. In Case II, the biggest problem facingthe commander is what elements of the enemy air sys-tem to strike in order to win air superiority. The lastcase, Case I, is by far the toughest, for it has no sanctu-aries: What one side can do, the other side also can do.Case I is a chess game, and like a chess game, the statis-tics favor the side that moves first.

Some observers will maintain that a plan calling fortheater air superiority is too ambitious and that it pro-poses more than is necessary. In its stead, some will rec-ommend local air superiority. "Local air superiority" canhave two meanings. Most often, it means establishingcover for a surface operation. In its other sense, it sug-gests a phase in an air campaign similar to a break-through operation on the ground that establishes thebase for further similar moves. This second definitionmerely recognizes the reality that achieving theater airsuperiority is rarely possible in one battle.1

The first definition proposed local air superiority asan adjunct to a surface campaign. Unless the timeneeded for local air superiority is very short, it is anunsound concept because it throws air onto the defen-sive. We have seen rather clearly that the defense is at a


distinct disadvantage in air war. Let us examine twoillustrative situations.

First, local air superiority could make good sensefor a short operation, such as passing a naval fleetthrough a strait or near a land mass. Attacks can bemade on enemy air bases to hinder flight operations,and enough cover can be put over the fleet to protect itwhile the enemy is trying to organize large scale attacks.Total time required for local air superiority should be onthe order of hours and is achievable.

In the second case, the proposal might be toprovide local air superiority for a ground counteroffen-sive or defense. Here, the time required moves fromhours to days at a minimum and perhaps even weeks ormonths. Now the enemy has ample time to concentrateforces against the covering air and can take full advan-tage of the air attacker's significant ascendancy over theair defender. We have seen example after example ofthe force ratios needed to defend and the difficultiesinherent in reacting rather than initiating.

A kind of compromise exists between local and the-ater air superiority advocates that favors the theaterside. If the overall theater campaign plan envisions win-ning the war by occupying a piece of territory, asopposed to destroying enemy forces or military produc-tion, establishing air superiority over the disputed terri-tory may be accomplished by driving enemy air back tothe point where it cannot reach the battle zone. Thisconcept is entirely different from the concept of acovering operation. Such a campaign plan subjects theenemy to attack, while protecting one's own bases (aCase II situation).

In the case where both sides are fully vulnerable toattack (Case /), the commander has the option to oper-ate offensively or defensively. Although he might havereasons to go on the defensive initially, the aircommander must be predisposed toward the offensive.He should go on the offense unless he finds compelling


reasons for not doing so. If he chooses the offense, hethen must decide on targeting priorities.

CENTER OF GRAVITY MAY NOT BE REACHABLETargeting priorities will bo a function of perceivedenemy air centers ot gravitv. We covered in chapter 3possible centers of gravity in some detail. We must keepin mind, however, that the real center of gravity may notbe reachable initially. Defensive considerations maycompel the commander to strike first at somethingother than the final objective. Suppose the enemy has adozen airfields that are especially well suited for offen-sive operations. These fields may not be important inthe long term, but could support damaging enemystrikes in the short term. These fields, then, might bethe first order of priority, the first phase in the cam-paign. Likewise, neutralizing a portion of the enemy'sground-based defenses may be necessary for the cam-paign to develop as planned. In other words, the routeto the center of gravity may not be a straight line.

The air superiority campaign (whether an end initself or a means to an end) should not be waged withair assets alone. Naval and ground forces should play arole wherever possible. The more innovative theiractions, the more likely are they and the campaign tosucceed.

We already have seen how the British sentcommandos to knock out an effective Germanbomber unit on Crete, how MacArthur andKenney used ground forces to seize airfields,and how the Israelis from the 1973 war to the1982 Lebanon incursions used naval andground forces to knock holes in ground-basedair defense systems. The Israelis even won


complete air superiority without use of airweapons at Entebbe.* On that operation, agroup of commandos by themselves destroyedthe enemy's air force.

If theater and component commanders are intrepid andinnovative, and if they understand the overriding needfor air superiority, they will work together to win it.

In the process of planning or executing an air cam-paign, three especially thorny issues confront the com-mander and his planners.

0 The first is the use of air in emergency situations,such as a fast-progressing enemy ground offensive.

* The second is deciding on the relative effort to beassigned interdiction and close air support.

* The third is the desirability of carrying out airsuperiority, interdiction, and close support simul-taneously.

Few things are more disconcerting than a sudden,massive enemy offensive that is either progressing wellor seems on the verge of doing so. The tendency is tothrow everything against the ground movement and tostop air superiority and interdiction operations until theemergency is over. This tendency (the first thorny issue),although natural, may be deadly-especially if theenemy's air force is still capable of fighting effectively.When one throws everything against the leading edge ofa ground offensive, pressure on enemy air decreasessignificantly, and perhaps to the point where the enemycan undertake previously impossible counterair opera-tions. If everything is concentrated on a ground objec-tive, the enemy can concentrate his air offensivelyagainst the aircraft working in support of ground forces.Or he can take the opportunity to press his own air

* Israeli commandos rescued 91 passengers and 12 crew members ofan Air France plane at Entebbe Airfield, Uganda, on 3 July 1976 inwhat has been called one of the most spectacularly successful rescueraids of modern times.


superiority operations aggressively. In either event, theenemy will realize the advantages accruing to theoffense.

"THROW EVERYTHING AT THE GROUND" Given allthese problems, the commander may be correct inthrowing everything at the ground under the followingcircumstances: If the battle in progress is unquestiona-bly the decisive battle of the war; if withdrawal is mili-tarily impossible; if losing the battle means surrender; itthe battle certainly will end within a few days; and itstopping the enemy positively means no further enemyoffensive before friendly air and ground forces can berebuilt.

If all of the above conditions cannot be met, divert-ing every effort to ground support makes subsequentsuccess problematical, even if the immediate threat isstopped. The prescription is clear, but no one will wantto take the medicine.

The second thorny issue is the allocation of airbetween interdiction and close support. Only for thosecountries in which one or the other is doctrinally anath-ema will the decision be easy. Previously noted were theIsraeli distaste for close air support and the Soviet fullembrace of it in World War II. Where the problem is notdoctrinally solved before the fact, commanders andplanners must wrestle with it. The easiest way to start isby asking if either is clearly inappropriate. If nothing isat hand to interdict, such as in a low-level guerrilla war,then all can be given to close support. Unfortunately,no immediately obvious example comes to mind ofwhere close support would be pointless. Thus, otherapproaches must be used to arrive at an answer.

With few exceptions, sorties flown in close supportwill reduce the sorties that can be flown in interdiction,and vice versa. One exception obtains when an air forcehas aircraft specifically designed for close support thatcannot survive in an interdiction environment, at least


until air superiority is won. If other things are equal,these planes might as well be used for close air sup-port-if they don't require protection by other aircraftthat could be better used elsewhere.

The interrelationship between close air support andinterdiction sorties demands that the commander, thetheater commander in this case, decide which one willmost benefit his plan. The weight of history, as well aslogic, falls on the interdiction side. We covered the his-tory of both in chapters 6 and 7. Materiel and troops areeasier to keep away from the battle than to engage atthe front. They are easier to destroy when they are inassembly or configured for movement than when theyare deployed to do battle. Carrying the thought to theultimate, one pictures one bomb on one tank factorypotentially causing scores or hundreds of tanks not tobe built.

Conversely, the best that one bomb can do at thefront is knock out one tank that already may have paidfor itself in damage done.

THREE CATEGORIES OF INTERDICTION If the pri-mary emphasis (after air superiority) is going to be oninterdiction, the interdiction can be either distant, inter-mediate, or close, as described in chapter 6. The distantis directed at the source of enemy supply; the inter-mediate at bivouacs, transportation nodes, depots, andtheater movement targets; and the close at movementvery near the battlefield. The degree of tactical coordi-nation with the ground component commander is veryhigh for close operations, less for intermediate, andconceptual for distant. Close interdiction should have amajor effect on the ground battle; thus, the air com-mander must direct operations that meet the groundcommander's explicit needs. This requirement does notmean that air should be subordinated to the groundcommander.


The third thorny problem confronting the com-mander is the likelihood that he will be asked to con-duct two or three missions simultaneously. For example,an adverse ground situation may lead to requests forclose air support and close interdiction, while air superi-ority still hangs in the balance. We have discussed thetheory of this possibilitv-and the theory provides aneasy answer. Unfortunately, the real world frequentlyrefuses to bow to even the best thcorv, so we can't takecomplete refuge in that answer. To address this prob-lem, the commander might, in desperation, divide hisair forces into three equal parts, devoting one to airsuperioritv, o61t tu interdiction, and one to clcu•e airsupport. Except in the most extraordinary circum-stances, this division surely would be the wrong answer.Very few situations would be so symmetrical as to indi-cate such a division. In tact, the chances would be quitehigh that not a single one of the "thirds" would be capa-ble of carrying out its mission. Consequently, all mightfail disastrously. What is the commander to do?

Concentration probably is the most important prin-ciple of air war. Therefore, the air commander shouldmake every effort to convince his ground componentcommander brother, and his theater commander, thatthey should all choose some mission which a concen-trated application of air power could bring to fruition. Inthis decision process, the commander must rememberhow dangerous it is to try other missions before airsuperiority is won. Also worth emphasizing is the tactthat air power has been more useful in interdiction thanin close support. (We saw earlier that the German armydecided too late on the Russian front that it should haveasked the Luftwaffe for interdiction rather than close airsupport.) Given the critical importance of air superi-ority, and the historical success of interdiction, the pos-sibility exists of proposing a compromise solution todemands that all three missions be carried out simul-taneously.


Clearly, air superiority must be the first air prioritybecause so much else-ground operations, close sup-port, and interdiction-is heavily dependent on it. Thus,conceptually, an interdiction effort should not com-mence before the air superiority campaign is obviouslyon the road to success-when enemy air is no longercrossing the front and can no longer defend effectivelyagainst interdiction operations. As earlier suggested,however, an area exists for logical compromise, an areathat will benefit both missions. Systems already supportenemy land and air operations. Their precise identitywill vary from war to war. But for the foreseeable future,the petroleum net will be a strong candidate, as will thetransportation net if it can be hit behind the enemy air-fields it is supporting.

Another potential target is the enemy's theater com-mand and control system. Good intelligence and thor-ough analysis should produce more candidates. To theextent that systems mutually supporting air and groundcan be identified and struck, mixing interdiction and airsuperiority makes good sense.

So far in this chapter, we have looked at how the aircommander constructs the air campaign, in terms of airsuperiority, interdiction, and close support. These threeelements are the main elements of air warfare.However, other elements, while less encompassing,cannot be ignored. The remainder of this chapter willdeal with the more salient of them.

"MYSTIFY, MISLEAD, SURPRISE" Confederate Gen-eral T.J. "Stonewall" Jackson once said that the duty of acommander is to "mystify, mislead, and surprise." Hisinjunction applies as much to the air commander as tothe ground commander. Indeed, deception can be apowerful weapon. Few things could be better than tomake the enemy face the wrong way or drop all hisbombs on a useless piece of desert. Deception mightlead the enemy to think that an attack would consist of10 aircraft, when in fact it had 20.

Ilannlng the Air (-ampaign 163

Untortunatelv, creating successful deception plansis not easy. Successful plans take into account thenature of the enemy, what he thinks about his enemy,and one's own modus operandi. Deception is a difficultsubject, but a few examples trom the past may providesome ideas tor the iuture.

One ot the most successtul of all deceptions wasnot meant to be a deception, but worked so well that itmight work again. As we have already noted,

At the height of the Battle of Britain, the Britishbomber command made a militarily uselessraid on Berlin that so infuriated Hitler that heallowed the Luftwaffe to turn on London. Theturn on London almost certainly was the oneGerman error that most influenced the battlein favor of the British.

Supreme commanders shouldn't make decisions basedon ego or emotional desire for revenge-but they havefor thousands of years. They will continue to do so. Iftheir egos can be attacked, they might do the most wel-come things. On an operational campaign scale, we sawhow

General George Kenney faked construction oftwo airfields and literally invited the Japaneseto attack them. Meanwhile, he was secretlybuilding the real airfield that would allow hisfighters to escort his bombers to Wewak-afield the Japanese "knew" was safe because itwas out of range of fighters.

Anvthing the enemy "knows" can't be done is wellworth doing. On a still smaller scale,

General Claire Chennault, as head of theAmerican Volunteer Group in China, wantedto make the Japanese think his


AW.USAF Photoraph( ht I Vl i -ul Vi I - tr Nom•D t•'uutnu , ýnl(h•-rarn Iri•sfoution

Major General Claire Lee Chennault (center) personally conductsmembers of the Chinese Aeronautical Affairs Commission on aninspection tour of his headquarters unit of the 14th Air Force at anadvanced air base in China in October 1943.

forces were much larger than the 40 or sofighters that actually existed. To deceive theenemy, he periodically repainted his aircraft sothe Japanese would think they came from dif-ferent units.2

The possibilities of deception are endless, and vir-tually no rules exist as to foul or fair. As Churchill said,"in war time, truth is so precious that she should alwaysbe attended by a bodyguard of lies."'

Related to deception is psychological warfare. It hasbeen most effective when the enemv nation was madeup of peoples forcibly included in it. When such poten-tial fissures exist, they must be exploited with every pos-sible means. Generally, this kind of psychological


warfare will be waged at the strategic and grand strate-gic levels. Nevertheless, the operational air commandercan do some things. He should certainly make it knownthat he welcomes defectors, that he will reward them,and that they may volunteer to join in the fight. He mustdevise ways to get the invitation to the enemy, and thenmust devise ways that allow an enemy pilot to surrenderhimself and his aircratt. Given enough defectors, he canestablish a squadron or wing of defectors, hopetullvliving under a banner raised at a higher level. Not onlywil the existence of the defectors encourage more tofollow suit, the units are likely to be quite effective.They and their aircraft may even be used to penetrateenemy defenses for special missions.

In chapter 8, we discussed reserves. The com-mander must decide whether he is going to have themand when he is going to commit them. His assessmentof the length of the war is important to the decision. Ifthe war will certainly end in one or two days, or withone very short decisive battle, reserves may not be use-ful. If the war is going to last beyond a couple of days,then the commander probably should opt to holdreserves for reasons previously enumerated. To illus-trate the negative case, we saw how

the Israelis committed their entire air force(minus eight fighters on home combat airpatrol and four on runway alert) in a bid for airsuperiority on the first day of the 1967 war.4

This was an instance where a single battle was deci-sive; it would have been an error to have reserves ornot to commit them if they existed. The 1967 war,however, is the only major war fought in the twentiethcentury where the whole war was essentially decided bya single battle on a single day.

RESERVES-TO HAVE OR HAVE NOT The decisionmade to maintain reserves, the commander must then


adopt a principle for commitment. We discussed theerror of piecemeal commitment: If the commander isgoing to commit the reserves, he should do it in mass tocapitalize on shock and surprise. As to where lie com-mits, he has two choices. He can reinforce his own suc-cess, or reinforce against an enemy success. In groundwar, the general American approach has been the latter,and the Soviet approach the former. The Sovietapproach is particularly well suited for fast offensives,while the American approach is more defensive (even aspart of an offensive).

In the heat of battle, it is easy to lose perspective, tojudge something far more important than it is, or devotemore resources to its attainment than it is worth. Let uslook at an example.

At the end of 1942, the German 6th Army wasencircled at Stalingrad. Hitler, mesmerized bythe concept of holding territory, forbade it tobreak out to the rear. For a variety of reasons,the Luftwaffe undertook the job of supplyingan entire encircled army by air. It was man-ifestly incapable of doing so-a point made atthe time by senior Luftwaffe officers andignored by Goering-but tried nevertheless. Inthe next two months, before Stalingrad fell,the Luftwaffe lost most of its transport fleet, aspecial unit of bombers crucial to the sub-marine campaign, its bomber and instrumentschools (aircraft and instructors were used atStalingrad), and its prestige.5

These losses, because they could not be madegood, were of far more consequence than the German6th Army. The German high command had failed tothink the problem through and paid a terrible price fornothing. The moral is clear: Make a cold, rational cal-culation of risks and rewards before committing to anyoperation.


Early in this chapter, we discussed the need toknow oneself. That precept also is applicable in the areaof training. Throughout this book, we have talked aboutmass and concentration. Mass and concentrationrequire large formations in the air, formations that arenot easy to plan, direct, or fly without extensive practicein peacetime. The idea is simple: If something is goingto be done in war, it ought to be practiced in peace. If ithas not been practiced, losses are likely to be high andthe plan is unlikely to go as expected.

Command and control are necessary to bring theelements of air power together into a coherent fightingorganization. The commander can use a system ofexplicit top down orders, or he can issue broad missionorders. Either system can work, as long as three keyrequirements are met: Officers and men from top tobottom must know what the system is and is not: itmust have been practiced extensively in peacetime; andlower echelons must be given at least the minimuminformation required to carry out their responsibilities.

With this brief thought on command and control,we conclude this chapter. It does not include everythinga commander needs to know to produce a winning aircampaign. But it does include general principles thatwill get him started in the right direction.

The rest is up to him.

The Air Campaignin Retrospect

OUR PURPOSE IN THIS BOOK has been to think throughthe problems confronting an air commander or staffofficer in preparation for planning or executing an aircampaign. A successful campaign clearly was contingenton a good plan, and construction of a good planrequired a good understanding of the forthcomingaction. The place to start was at the beginning.

Central to our thesis is the idea that air superiorityis crucial., that a campaign will be lost if the enemy hasit, that in many circumstances it alone can win a war,and that itr oossession is needed before other actionson the ground or in the air can be undertaken. Giventhat thesis, outlining the various situations that mightobtain at the start of a campaign is necessary.

TWO ENDS OF THE SCALE The situation facing acommander could at worst be one in which his baseswere under air attack from the enemy while he had nocapability to respond in kind. In this case, he wouldhave no choice but to fight defensively, the worst way tofight an air war.

At the other end of the scale, the enemy's basesbecame subject to attack while those of our commanderwere safe. In between were the situations in which bothsides had vulnerable rear areas or both were unable toreach the rear, so were constrained to fight over thefront. Finally, in an anomalous case was the situationwhere combat air was not being used by either side.

169


Classification for its own sake may be academicallyinteresting, but it is not militarily useful unless it leadsto better operations. In the case of the air war, it does.In the course of examining various cases, we saw thatthe ground relationship between defense and offense isreversed for aircraft. That reversal means that the aircommander forced on the defense has a much toughertime than one might imagine, if his frame of referencewere the ground. It also suggests that a commandershould rarely accept the defense, if he has an offensiveoption. We also saw that several possible centers ofgravity could be attacked to win air superiority, but thatnot all were available in every case.

NUMBERS ARE IMPORTANT Our examinations ledus to the conclusion that numbers are important. Infact, they are so important that a primary goal of theoperational commander ought to be to make sure thathis forces outnumber the enemy every time they meet.The concept of fighting superior and winning fol-lowed-but with the caution that numbers did not meantheater numbers. Rather, the numbers that concernedus were the numbers that came together for an actualengagement.

We noted that the larger force almost always inflictsgreater absolute and relative casualties on the smallerforce. And it also usually suffers less in the process. Thisconcept is certainly not new; in fact, it has been aroundfor centuries in surface warfare. It is useful to know,however, that it is even more applicable in the air. Ofcourse, qualitatively superior aircraft that are committedin battle in such a way as to be also superior in numberto the enemy will accomplish far more than equal orinferior aircraft could hope to do.

After identification of the type of war and appropri-ate steps to win air superiority, we moved on to look atair interdiction and close support. We noted thatdestroying enemy equipment at or close to the source

Air Canmpaign in Retrospect 171

was more efficient than destroying them directly on thefront. Thus, interdiction seemed theoretically preterableto close support. Recognizing that close support nev-ertheless was a vital air mission, we suggested that thisscarce resource should be committed where the groundcommander would commit his last division or artillerybrigade.

RESERVES A NEW SUBJECT our next subject wasone relatively new to air operations-reserves. With tewexceptions, the concept of reserves has been foreign toair forces. The theorv of reserves, their ability to create anew situation and to shock and confuse the enemv.seemed as apropos to air as to ground campaigns. Ourtentative conclusion, based on limited historical experi-ence, suggests that air reserves ought to be maintainedand committed at decisive points in the campaign.

We don't tend to think of war in the same terms aswe think of music and concertos. But our discussioncarried us to the conclusion that war plans had to havedefined objectives and identified key forces if they wereto lead to victory. The score for the concerto of violencehad to be in consonance with the nature of the enemy,one's own nature, and the nature of the war. Discord-ance leads to defeat.

Lastly, we tried to integrate everything to produce acoherent air campaign plan. We saw that committingeverything in emergency situations could be dangerous,if the commitment did not lead directly to a decision.We also saw that ground and naval forces could contrib-ute to winning the air superiority that is vital to all.Finally, our discussion ranged to the use of deceptionand psychological warfare. Through it all ran the threadof concentration and mass.

WAR IS BAFFLING, INTRIGUING Of all mankind'sactivities, war is the most baffling and intriguing. It


brings out the best in men; and it uncovers the worst.War is the last argument of kings; appeal from its ver-dict, frequently impossible, is always difficult. Wardemands from its leading participants the coldest cal-culation, the most rational thought. Leaders lacking theability to think clearly and precisely under war's enor-mous pressures pay dearly-often with their lives,always with the present and future of their followers.Methods of war change, but the principles of war-theessence of war- have not changed since Miltiadesrepulsed the Persians on the Plains of Marathon.*

War affects every person and nation it touches. Theonly way to mitigate its effects is to understand it thor-oughly. Our purpose in this book has been to help inthat process.

"Miltiades (The Younger) was the general who led Athenian forces tovictory over the Persians in the Battle of Marathon, in northeastAttica, in September 490 BC. At dawn, the Athenians advancedwithin a mile of the enemy by felling trees and making obstaclesagainst the dreaded Persian cavalry. With a thin center and strength-ened wings, the line of 10,000 Athenians and 1,000 Plataeans chargedthe enemy infantry before the Persian cavalry could return. TheGreek wings defeated the Persians and wheeled inward to rout thePersian center, which had driven the Greek center back. The longerspears and heavier armor of the bronze-clad Greek infantrymen pre-vailed over the short spears, wicker shields, and padded clothing ofthe Persians.

Endnotes

AIR CAMPAIGN IN PROSPECT

1. One exception is Richard E. Simpkin's Race to the Swift:Thoughts on Twenty-First Century Warfare (London: Brassey'sDefense Publishers, 1985), a very useful work on the theoryof operations in the ground campaign.2. The Battle of Cannae (216 BC) was a major clash near theancient village of Cannae, in Apulia, Italy, between the forcesof Rome and Carthage during the Second Punic War, in whichthe Carthaginian general Hannibal won a great victory. Theeventful campaign was begun by a new, aggressive move byRome. An exceptionally strong field army, estimated atbetween 48,000 and 85,000 men, was sent to crush the Car-thaginians in open battle. On a level plain near Cannae,chosen by Hannibal for his battleground, the Roman legionsattacked. Hannibal deliberately allowed his center to bedriven in by the Romans' superior numbers, whileHasdrubal's cavalry wheeled round to take the enemy's flankand rear. The Romans, surrounded on all sides and socramped that their superior number aggravated their plight,were practically annihilated.3. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, transl. and ed. by MichaelHoward and Peter Paret (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton UniversityPress, 1976), p. 595.4. J.F.C. Fuller, The Generalship of Alexander the Great(London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1958), pp. 95-103.5. Fuller, The Decisive Battles of the Western World, Vol. 2(London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1965), pp. 37-39.

CHAPTER 1

1. See subsequent discussion in this chapter on Vietnam-theone example that on the surface could be seen to contradictthese general principles.

173

174 Notes to pages 14-20

"2. Cajus Bekker, The Luftwaffe War Diaries, transi. and ed. byFrank Ziegler (New York: Ballantine Books, 1969), p. 31.3. Williamson Murray, Strategy for Defeat: The Luftwaffe1933-45 (Maxwell Air Force Base (AFB), Ala.: Air UniversityPress, 1983), pp. 36-37.4. Ibid., p. 86.5. Telford Taylor, The Breaking Wave (New York: Simon andSchuster, 1967), p. 71.6. Ronald Lewin, Rommel: As Military Commander (New York:Ballantine Books, 1972), p. 275.7. Ibid.8. The Impact of Allied Air Interdiction on German Strategy forNormandy (Washington, DC: US Air Force Assistant Chief ofStaff, Studies and Analysis, 1969), p. 14.9. Generalleutnant Klaus Uebe, Russian Reactions to GermanAirpower in World War II (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Aerospace Stud-ies Institute, 1964), p. 100.10. William W. Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars (WWII.Korea, Vietnam) (Washington, DC: US Air Force, 1978), p. 117.11. Randolf S. and Winston S. Churchill, The Six Day War(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1967), pp. 86, 177.12. The Insight Team of the London Sunday Times, The YomKippur War (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc.,1974), pp. 161, 204. The London Sunday Times Insight Team ofreporters combines first-rate investigative journalism withlively writing and opinion. The team has authored severalbooks, including best-sellers Philby, An American Melodrama,and Do You Sincerely Want to be Rich?, and Watergate. TheYom Kippur War derives from the extensive coverage of thefourth Arab-Israeli war in the London Sunday Times duringOctober 1973.13. A.J.C. Lavalle, ed., The Vietnamese Air Force 1951-75: AnAnalysis of Its Role in Combat (Washington, DC: Superin-tendent of Documents, US Air Force Southeast Asia Mono-graph Series, Vol. 3, Monographs 4-5, 1976), pp. 58-59.14. The Yom Kippur War, pp. 161, 204.15. Taylor, pp. 108-10.16. Bekker, pp. 348-9.17. The Yom Kippur War, p. 213.18. During this period, the few British raids on the Germanhomeland had no military effect on the battle-although their

Notes to pages 23-30 175

subsequent political effect perhaps was significant. More onthis aspect when deception is discussed.19. Richard Suchenwirth, Historical Turning Poirn in the Ger-man Air Force War Effort (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University,1959), pp. 66-67.20. Taylor, pp. 150-51.21. Bekker, pp. 313-18.22. Murrav, p. 285.

CHAPTER 2

1. Our emphasis is on the use of air to defend against airbecause experience to date has shown that ground-baseddefenses, whether antiaircraft artillery or guided missile svs-tems, have not been able to provide effective opposition toan air offense.

In 1973, Syrian missile defenses on the GolanHeights forced the Israelis to stop their air attacksfor several hours, after which time the Israelisdestroyed the missiles and the positions the mis-siles were to protect.

This 1973 ground-based defense success is the best so farrecorded. This observation is not meant to say that ground-based defenses can be ignored by the attacker, or that theyhave no utility for the defender. For the latter, they may helpchannelize enemy air operations or may at least force theenemy to devote some effort to overcoming defenses. In theabsence of defenses, he might apply that effort in a more dan-gerous fashion. At some point, perhaps with the introductionof directed-energy weapons, ground-based defense may suc-ceed in thwarting the offense for an extended period. Theoperational commander must be alert to that possibilitv:Technological advantages can be crucial.2. Adolf Galland, The First and the Last (New York: BallantineBooks, 1963), p. 137.3. Clausewitz, pp. 357-59.4. Suchenwirth, pp. 117-18.5. D. Clayton James, The Years of MacArthur 1941-45 (Boston:Houghton Mifflin Companv, 1975), pp. 207, 227.


6. James, p. 281.7. Ibid., pp. 197-99.8. George C. Kenney, General Kenney Reports (New York:Duell, Sloan, and Pearce, 1949), p. 324.9. James, p. 324.10. Kenney, pp. 276-78.11. US Strategic Bombing Survey, Japanese Air Power (Wash-ington, DC: Military Analysis Division, 1946), p. 14.13. Kenney, p. 241.14. Japanese Air Power, p. 15.15. US Strategic Bombing Survey, Air Campaigns of the PacificWar, p. 60.16. The Yom Kippur War, pp. 161, 167.17. Ibid., pp. 213, 238.18. Ibid., p. 204.-19. Bekker, p. 229

CHAPTER 3

1. The V-1 and V-2 missiles had little military impact. Hadthere been enough of them, had they been more accurate,and had the Germans concentrated them against the ports,they might have been more significant.2. To illustrate, less than 1 percent of American military pilotshave become aces (shooting down five or more enemy air-craft), but that 1 percent has accounted for more than 30 per-cent of all enemy aircraft destroyed in the air. Gene Gurney,Five Down and Glory (New York: Ballantine Books, 1957,1965), pp. 207, 242.3. Suchenwirth, p. 83.4. Bekker, p. 312.5. Ezer Weizman, On Eagle's Wings (New York: MacMillanPublishing Co., Inc., 1976), p. 223; and Churchill, p. 86.6. Japanese Air Power, p. 14.7. Haywood S. Hansell, Jr., Strategic Air War Against Japan(Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Airpower Research Institute, 1980),pp. 76- 80; and Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich, transl. byRichard and Clara Winston (New York: Avon Books, 1971).pp. 365-67.8. During American planning and execution of the bombingcampaign against Germany, some of the planners maintained

\'Jotes to pages 44-59 177

that destroying enough single-target systems would win thewar. Critics ot this approach disparagingly reterred to thesetarget systems as 'panaceas.' In retrospect, the petroleum,transportation, and electrical generating systems might havecome close to qualitving as real "panaceas." See theremainder ot this chapter and chapter 5 for more detail.(). A.I.C. Lavalle, ed., The Tale ot Two Bridges and the Battlefor the Skies over North Vietnam (Washington, DC: US Gov-ernment Printing Office, USAF Southeast Asia MonographSeries, 1970), p. 151.1(). MLurrav, pp. 274-76.I1. Bekker, p. -12. Ibid., p. 31.1 3. Taylor, pp. 1 38-39, 151-59.14. Murray, pp. 274-76.

15. Bekker, pp. 200-201: and Taylor, p. 145.I0. Bekker, p. 240.17. Gordon W. Prange, Miracle at M\,idwav (New York:McGraw-Hill Book Companv !Penguin Books], 1983),pp. 25-27.18. Japanese Air Power, F). 10.19. Murra', p. 282.

20. Beniamin S. Lambeth, Moscow's Lessons from the 1982Lebanon Air War (Santa Monica, Calit.: Rand Corporation,1984), pp. 4-7.21. Paul S. Cutter, EW [\Von the Bekaa Vallev Air Battle," Mili-tarv Electronics Countermeasures, Januarv 1983, p. 106."22. Lambeth, p. 8.23. A victorv tor ,he English, on 26 August 1346, in the firstdecade of the Hundred '.'ears' War against the French. EdwardIII of England landed 4,000 men-at-arms and 10,000 archers(longbowmen) on the Cotentin peninsula in mid-Julv 1346,and ravaged lower Normandv west of the Seine and as farsouth as Poissv, just outside Paris. Philip V1 of Franceadvanced against Edward wi h 12,000 men-at-arms. Edwardturned sharply northeastward, crossing the Seine at Poissyand the Somme downstream rom Abbeville, taking a defen-sive position at Crecv- en-Ponthieu, where he posted dis-mounted men-at-arms in the center, with cavalry to their rightand left, and archers on both wings. Italian crossbowmen inPhilip's service began the assault on the English position, butwere routed by the archers and fell back into the path of the


French cavalry's first charge. More and more French cavalrycame up to make further thoughtless charges at the Englishcenter. But while the center stood firm, the archers wheeledforward and the successive detachments of horsemen weremowed down bv arrowshots from both sides.24. Douhet (1869-1930), an Italian military officer, generally isregarded as the father of strategic air power. Trained as anartillery officer, from 1912 to 1915 he commanded the Aero-nautical Battalion, Italy's first aviation unit. Through hisefforts, the three-engine Capronh bomber was ready for useby the time Italy entered World War I. Douhet's theory of theimportant role of strategic bombing in disorganizing and anni-hilating an enemy's war effort was incorporated into futuremilitary plans of Italy and the United States. He further advo-cated creation of an independent air force.25. Murray, pp. 6-14.26. Hansell, pp. 18-19.27. US Strategic Bombing Survey, Summary Report (PacificWar) (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office,1946), pp. 25-26.28. Ibid.29. Cutter, p. 106.

CHAPTER 4

I. The operational commander's duty is to ensure that hemasses superior forces at a particular time and place. That heis inferior in the theater does not relieve him of this duty. Infact, it is the essence of generalship.2. Wesley F. Craven and James L. Cates, The Army Air Forcesin World War II, Vol. II (Chicago: The University of ChicagoPress, 1949), pp. 704-6.3. The Insight Team of the London Sunday Times, The YomKippur War, p. 161. In addition, note that the Israelis lost all ofthese aircraft to ground-based defenses. This action is theonly known instance before or since in which such defenseshad an effect on this scale.4. The Relationship Between Sortie Ratios and Loss Rates forAir-to-Air Battle Engagements During World War II and Korea-Saber Measures (Charlie) (Washington, DC: Headquarters, USAir Force, Assistant Chief of Staff, Studies and Analysis,1970),p. 15.


5. J.F.C. Fuller, The Decisive Battles of the Western World,Vol. III (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1963), p. 471.6. Lambeth, p. 8.7 John H. Morrow, German Air Power in World War I (Lin-coln: University ot Nebraska Press. 1982), p. 109.8. Galland, pp. 150-1, 187.9. Bekker, pp. 232-42; and Taylor, pp. 151-61.10. Galland. pp. 30-31.

CHAPTER 5

I. Bekker, p. 242.2. Ibid., p. 525.3. Momyer, pp. 147-48.

CHAPTER 6

1. Clausewitz, p. 95.2. Robert F. Futrell, The United States Air Force in Korea 1950-53 (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983),pp. 261-63.3. William Manchester, American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur1880-1964 (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1978), p. 611.4. Momyer, p. 168.5. Suchenwirth, pp. 90-91.6. David Irving, The Trail of the Fox (New York: Avon Books,1978), p. 175.7. Ibid., p. 92,8. USAF Tactical Operations: World War II and Korean War(Washington, DC: USAF Historical Division, Liaison Office,1962), p. 30.9. F.M. Salagar, Operation "Strangle" (Italy, Spring 1944): ACase Study of Tactical Air Interdiction (Santa Monica, Calif.:The Rand Corporation, 1972), p. 62.10. Ibid., p. 66.11. Lewin, p. 274.12. Anthony Cave Brown, Bodyguard of Lies (New York: Ban-tam Books, Inc., 1976), p. 429.13. Summaries of Selected Military Campaigns (West Point,N.Y.: Department of Military Art and Engineering, US Military


Academy, nd, Special Printing for the Department of History,US Air Force Academy, 1960), p. 142.14. Murray, p. 281.15. Impact of Allied Air Interdiction on German Strategy forNormandy, p. 1.16. Fuller, Decisive Battles, Vol. 3, p. 560.17. Impact of Allied Air Interdiction on German Strategy forNormandy, pp. 11-14.18. USAF Tactical Operations: World War II and Korea, p. 30.19. Murray, p. 274; and Uebe, p. 100.20. James, pp. 292-97.21. Kenney, p. 275.22. The Yome eippar War, pp. 182-83.

CHAPTER 7

1. Eube, p. 25.2. Cutler, pp. 99-100.3. Oleg Hoeffding, German Air Attacks Against Industry andRailroads in Russia, 1941-45 (Santa Monica, Calif.: Rand Cor-poration, 1970), pp. 25-27.4. A. Goutard, The Battle of France 1940, transl. by A.R.P. Bur-gess (New York: Ives Washburn, 1959), p. 132.5. Murray, p. 125.6. Ibid., p. 282.7. Air Campaigns in the Pacific War, p. 28.8. Churchill, pp. 181-86.9. Bekker, p. 195.10. Ibid., pp. 434-35.11. Condensed Analysis of the 9th Air Force in the EuropeanTheater of Operations (Washington, DC: US Army Air Forces,Office of Assistant Chief of Air Staff, Office of Air Force His-tory, 1984; reprinted from 1946 edition), p. 29.12. James, pp. 485-88.13. Ibid., pp. 392-94.14. Air Campaigns in the Pacific War, p. 32.15. Bekker, p. 411.16. Ibid., pp. 411, 421.17. Ibid., p. 439.18. Momyer, pp. 307-11.19. Murray, p. 86.20. Kenney, pp. 270-71.


CHAPTER 8

1. Arthur Bryant, The Turn of the Tide (New York: Doubleday& Company, Inc., 1957), p. 81.2. Taylor, p. 164.3. Ibid., p. 71.4. Suchenwirth, pp. 64-65.5. Taylor, pp. 99, 164; and Bekker, pp. 243-46.6. Bekker, pp. 200-201, 223, 229; and Taylor, pp. 135, 138-39.7. Taylor, pp. 151-59.8. Bekker, p. 243; and Taylor, p. 164.9. Taylor, pp. 163-65; and Bekker, pp. 247-48.10. Galland, pp. 151-53.11. Murray, p. 278.12. Galland, pp. 240-41.13. Suchenwirth, p. 118.14. Ibid., pp. 89-90.

CHAPTER 9

1. Erich von Manstein, Lost Victories, transi. and ed. byAnthony G. Powell (Novato, Calif.: Presidio Press, 1984),p. 177.2. Hoeffding, pp. 22-23.3. Fuller, Decisive Battles of the Western World, Vol. 3, p. 296.4. Russel F. Weigley, The American Way of War (Bloomington:Indiana University Press, 1977), pp. 317-21.5. Wesley F. Craven and James L. Cates, eds., The Army AirForces in World War II, Vol. IV: The Pacific-Guadalcanal toSaipan (August 1943 to July 1944) (Chicago: The University ofChicago Press, 1950), p. iv.6. With the exception of the loss of Burma, Japanese lines inthe China-Burma-India theater were not much different inAugust 1945 than in August 1942. Summaries of Selected Mili-tary Campaigns. (West Point, N.Y.: Department of Military Artand Engineering, US Military Academy, nd, Special Printingfor Department of History, US Air Force Academy, 1960),pp. 152, 163.


7. Air Campaigns of the Pacific War, pp. 3, 4.8. D. Clayton James, The Years of MacArthur 1941-45 (Boston:Houghton Mifflin Company, 1975), p. 190.9. Ibid., pp. 331-32.10. Ibid.11. Ibid., pp. 334-35.12. Air Campaigns of the Pacific War, pp. 39-42.13. James, pp. 607-9.14. Martin van Creveld, Supplying War: Logistics from Wal-

lenstein to Patton (New York: Cambridge University Press,1980), pp. 213-16.15. Craven and Cates, Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. II,

pp. 428-30.

CHAPTER 10

1. The Israeli attack on Arab air in the June 1967 war is per-haps the only example of a single battle on a single day win-ning theater air superiority.2. Richard Lee Scott, Jr., Flying Tiger: Chennault of China

(Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1959),pp. 70, 90-92.3. Brown, p. 10.4. Churchill, p. 82.5. Bekker, pp. 430-31.

Selected Bibliography

Bekker, Capus. The Luftwaffe War Diaries. Translated by FranKZiegler. New York: Ballantine Books, 1969.

Brown, Anthony Cave. Bodyguard of Lies. New York: BantamBooks, Inc., 1976.

Brvant, Sir Arthur. The Turn of the Tide. New York: Double-dav & Company, Inc., 1957.

Churchill, Randolph S. and Winston S. The Six Day War.Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1967.

Clausewitz, Carl von. On War. Translated and edited byMichel Howard and Peter Paret. Princeton, N.J.: Prince-ton University Press, 1976.

Cordesman, Anthony H. "The Sixth Arab-Israeli Conflict: Mil-itary Lessons for American Defense Planning." ArmedForces Journal International, August 1982.

Craven, Wesley F. and Cate, James L., Editors. The Army AirForces in World War II. Volumes II & IV. Chicago: TheUniversitv of Chicago Press, 1949 & 1950.

Cutler, Paul S. "ELTA Plays a Decisive Role in the EOB Sce-nario." Military Electronics'Countermeasures, January1983.

"EW Won the Bekaa Valley Air Battle." MilitaryElectronics/Countermeasure5, January 1983.

"Lt. Gen. Rafael Eitan: We Learned Both Tacti-cal and Technical Lessons in Lebanon." MilitaryElectronics/Countermeasures, Februarv 1983.

Department of Military Art and Engineering. Summaries Of

Selected Military Campaigns. West Point, N.Y.: US Mili-tary Academy, nd. Special Printing for Department ofHistory, US Air Force Academy, 1960.

Dupuy, Colonel Trevor N. A Genius for War: the GermanArmy and General Staff, 1807-1945. London: MacDonaldand Jane's, 1977.

Fuller, J.F.C. Decisive Battles of the Western World. VolumesII & Ill. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1963.

The Generalship of Alexander the Great.London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1958.

183

184 The Air (Ximpail,;n Warden

Futrell, Robert. F. The United States Air Forces in K\orea,1950-53. Washington. DC: Office of Air Force History,1983. Revised Edition.

Galland, General Adolf. The First and the Last. Translated byMN-erkvvn Savill. New 'turk: Ballantine Books, 196.3.

Goutard, Colonel A. The Battle of France !940. Translated byA.R.P. B~urgess, New York: Ives Washburn, 1959.

Gurney, Gene. five 1)own and Glorv. New York: BallantineBooks, 1965.

Hansell . Havwu)od S., Jr. >trite-ic Air War Ai(ainst Ia pan. Max-well AFB, Ala.: Airpokver Research Institute, 1980.

Hoettding , ()eg erman Air Attacks ~A.ainst Industryv andRailroads In Russia, 19)41-194i. Santa Monica, Calif.: RandCorporation, 1)70).

Irving, David. The Trail o/ Ilth, Fox. New York: Avon Books,1978.

lames, D. Clayton. The Ye ars of \IacArthur 1941-194i. Boston:Houghton Mifflin Comay17.

Kennev, George C. G~eneral b~ennev Reports. New York:Duell, Sloan, and Pearce, 1949.

Lambeth, Benj'amin S. AMoscow\', Lessons from the 1982Lebanon Air War. Santa Monica, Calif.: Rand Corpora-tion, 1984.

Lavalle, A.J.., Editor. The Tale of Two flrid~qes and the Battlefor the Skies over North Vietnam. US Air Force SoutheastAsia Monograph Series. WVashington, DC: Superintend-ent of Documents, 1976.

__________ The Vietnamese Air Force 1951-1975: An Analysisof Its Role in Combat. US Air Force Southeast AsiaMonograph Series, Vol. 3. Monographs 4-5, 1977. Wash-ington, DC: Superintendent ot Documents. 1976.

Lewin, Ronald. Rommel: As Military Commander. New York:Ballantine Books, '1972.

Manchester, William. American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur1880-1964. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1978.

M1omver, William W. Air Power in Three Wars (WWII, Korea.Vietnam). Washington, DC: US Air Force, 1978.

MSvorrow, John H. German Air Power in World War I. Lincoln:University of Nebraska Press, 1982.

Murray, Williamson, Strategy for Defeat: The Luftwaffe1933-4.5. Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1983.

Selected Bibliography 185

Plocher, Hermann. The German Air Force Versus Russia, 1941.Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1965.

Prange, Gordon W. Miracle at Midway. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company (Penguin Books), 1983.

Robinson, Clarence A. Jr. "Surveillance Integration Pivotal inIsraeli Success." Aviation Week and Space Technology. 5July 1982.

Salagar, F.M. Operation "Strangle" (Italy, Spring 1944): A CaseStudy of Tactical Air Interdiction. Santa Monica, Calif.:Rand Corporation, 1972.

Schwabedissen, Walter. The Russian Air Force in the Eyes ofGerman Commanders. Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air UniversityPress, 1960.

Scott, Robert Lee, Jr. Flying Tiger: Chennault of China.Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1959.

Speer, Albert. Inside the Third Reich. Translated by Richardand Clara Winston. New York: Avon Books, 1971.

Suchenwirth, Richard. Historical Turning Points in the GermanAir Force War Effort. Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air UniversityResearch Studies Institute, 1959.

The Insight Team of the London Sunday Times. The Yom Kip-pur War. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Company,Inc., 1974.

Taylor, Telford. The Breaking Wave. New York: Simon andSchuster, 1967.

Uebe, D. Klaus. Russian Reactions to German Airpower inWorld War II. Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Aerospace StudiesInstitute, 1964.

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Index

Air battle, 68, 72-73, 77-80 other arms and, 18-19. 31,Air campaign plan, xxv, 153, 171 147-148, 157-158

air commander's decisions in retreat, 84-86, 93for, 154-155, 156-157, variables, 19-24158-162, 165-166, 167 "local," 155-156

air superiority as goal of, Air superiority cases. See Cases

154-158 I-V

air superiority cases and, Air supremacy. See Air superi-

137-138, 169-170 orityassessing enemy and self in, Aircraft chain, 41-44, 136

153-154 Airfield attack, 42, 46-49

deception in, 162-164 Alexander the Great, 11

difficult issues in, 158-162 Arab states. See Arab-Israeli

psychological warfare and, wars164-165 Arab-Israeli wars, 22, 44, 66

reserves in, 165-166 in Lebanon (1982), 56-58, 63

Air commander, 103-104, 1%7 war, 16, 40, 42, 107, 165

154-155, 156-157, 158-162, 1973 war, 16, 17-18, 19, 34-35,

165-166, 167 36-37, 70, 96-97Air defense. See Defense. Ardennes counteroffensive, 28,

Air neutrality, 13-14 45, 110-111, 124Air superiority. See also Arab- Attrition rates, 68-70

Israeli wars; Britair , Battle

of; Cases I-V; Defense; Ger-many; Japan; Korean War; Battle of Britain. See Britain,

Offense; Pacific theater; Battle ofVietnam War Bekker, Cajus, 47air campaign plan and, Brett, George H., 31

137-138, 153, 154-158 Britain, 18, 66. See also Britain,

categories of, 13-14 Battle ofcrucial for victory, xxiv, 12, Britain, Battle of, 50, 149

13-18, 24, 25, 154, 161, 162, as example of Case III, 20, 27

169 British reserves in, 75,

and interdiction, 99, 162 120-122

167

188 Index

German errors in, 40, 47-48, importance of, 34, 63-64,54, 55, 74-75, 120-122, 163 81-82, 161

Brooke, Sir Alan, 4 interdiction and, 97, 99offense and, 31, 34, 63-64training and, 167

Cannae, Battle of, 6, 59 Crecy, Battle of, 59Case I, 20, 25-38, 137-138, 155, Crete, 18

156-157, 169, 170

Case II, 20, 39-64, 155, 156, 169 Damage, 68-70Case III, 20, 65-76, 75, 155, 169 Deception, 31-33, 162-164Case IV, 20-21, 77-81, 155, 169 Decision sphere, 53, 54, 55-56,Case V, 21, 81, 155, 169 57-58Center of gravity, 9-10 Defense

choosing correct, 40, 138-139, disadvantaged in air war,148, 153, 157 xxiv, 66-67, 156-157, 170

command as, 51-58 force ratios and, 70-73equipment and logistics ground-based, xxiv, 14, 16,

chain as, 41-49 17, 34-37, 66-67, 77personnel as, 49-51 in Case I, 25-26, 27-29political, 60-63, 139, 144 in Case III, 65-66, 68-76

Chennault, Claire, 163-164 key factors in, 67-75China, 21, 119 weapon systems for, 23-24Churchill, Winston S., 3, 115, Defensive air superiority, 14, 17

140, 164 Dien Bien Phu, 110Clausewitz, Carl von, 5, 10, 83, Distant interdiction, 94, 95

116 Doctrine, 6, 58-62, 63, 65-66Close air support, 101-113, Doolittle, James H. (Jimmy), 56

125-126, 159-160, 171 Douhet, Guilio, 59, 60Close escort option, 79-80 Dowding (Air Marshal), 120, 121Close interdiction, 94, 96-97Command and control sys- Economy, as military objective,

tem(s), 133-134for air campaign, 154, 167 Egypt, 16, 17as target, 37, 51-58, 63, 162 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 4, 7, 8

Command of the Air (Douhet), Electronic countermeasures,59 23-24

Communications sphere, 47, Emergency situations, 17-18,53, 54, 56, 57-58 158-159

Concentration, principle of EnemyCase IV situations and, 78-79 assessment of, 35, 58-59, 153close air support and, 125, will, 8, 27-28, 134-135

126 Entebbe, 157-158defense and, xxiv, 70, 72-73, Equipment chain, 41-49. See

74-75 also Materiel

I, Jex 189

Escort operations, 79-80 Guerrillas. 93-94

Ethnocentricity, 58-59 Gustav Line, 88-90

Falklands Islands war, 133 Hannibla, b

Feint, 37 Hansell, HavwooJ S., Jr., bi

Fighter screen, 78-79 Historical experience, 5, 6

Flight crews. See Personnel Hitler, Adolf, 18. 26

Force ratios, 70-73, 78-79, 120, and Battle of Britain, 55. 121

170 and fighter reserves, 28, 122,

France, 14, 66 124Hotfner (Colonel), 92

Galland, Adolph, 28, 73, Hollandia, 34, 96

122-123 Huon Peninsula, 31, 96, 142-143

Germany, 35, 134air interdiction against, 88-92, Information sphere, 53. 54,

93 57-58

and air superiority, 14-15. Interdiction. See also Aircraft

46-47 chain; Equipmet.' chain;

and Battle of Britain. 40, Petroleum chain

47-48, 54, 55, 74-75. and air superiority campaign,

120-122, 163 99, 162

and close air support, 103, history and definition of,

105-106, 107, 109 83-84

effect of Allied attacks on, 15, problems of, 97-99, 103

45, 50, 95, 129-130, 133-134 three levels of, 94-97, 160

failings in air doctrine of. in various ground situations,

59-60 84-94

lacks fighter reserves, 28, versus close air support,

122-124 101-102, 159-160, 161,

reasons for surrender of, 12, 170-171

129-131, 134 Intermediate interdiction, 94,

Russian campaign of, 42, 95-96

132-133, 135, 166 Israel, 157-158. See also Arab-

Gettysburg, Battle of, 118-119 Israeli wars

Ghormley, Robert Lee, 141 Italy, 88-90

Goering, Hermann, 121, 122,

123, 166 Jackson, T. J., "Stonewall," 162

Grand strategy, 3, 7 Japan, 29-30, 33-34, 56, 71. 96.

Grant, Ulysses S., 136 See also Pacific theater

Ground campaigns, 148-149 center of gravity in war

Ground forces, 18, 31, 147-148, against, 60-63, 139-142,

157-158 144-145

Guadalcanal, 30 reasons for surrender of, 12,

Guderian (General), 105-106 129-131, 133

190 Index

Johnson, Lyndon, 149 Mobility, 79Model (General), 109

Kenney, George, 29, 30, 31-33, Momentum, principle of, 118,112, 163 119

Kenya, 94 Mordle, 73Key force, concept of, 10-11, Motivation, 68

145-150Khe Sanh, 109-110 Nam II, 15-16Korean war, 15-16, 119, 136 Naval forces. 19, 147, 157-158

air interdiction in, 85, 86 New Guinea, 29-30, 31, 96,as example of Case IV, 20-21, 142-143

78, 80 Nimitz, Chester W., 4Kursk, Battle of, 107, 109 Normandy invasion, 90-92, 106,

112Lee, Robert E., 118-119 North Africa, 6-7, 8, 87-88Leigh-Mallory (Air Vice Mar- North Korea, 66

shal), 120 North Vietnam, 12, 44, 66, 131,LeMay, Curtis, 61 132, 134. See also VietnamLin Piao, 85, 119 warLinebacker II, 44 Nuclear weapons, 5Local air superiority, 13, 155-156 Numerical superiority, princi-Logistics chain, 31, 33, 44-48 pie of, 70-73, 170Loss ratios, 70-73

Objectives. See Military objec-MacArthur, Douglas, 4, 29-33, tives; Political objectives

108, 141, 142-143, 149 Offense, xxiv, 170. See alsoMalta, 87-88, 149 Concentration, principleMarathon/Miltiades, 172 of; Mass, principle of;Marianas, 61 Numerical superiority,Marshall, George C., 4, 136 principle ofMass, principle of, 34, 67-68, in Case I, 26-27, 29-38,

167. See also Concentra- 137-138, 155, 156-157tion, principle of in Case II, 20, 39-64, 155, 156,

Materiel. See also Equipment 169chain; Petroleum chain On War (Clausewitz), 5

as air superiority variable, Operation "Strangle," 89-9019, 22-24, 80 Operational commander. See

effe-t of inadequate, 39-40, Theater commander62, Operational level of war, 4-8

Midway, 71 Operational reserves. SeeMilitary doctrine. See Doctrine ReservesMilitary objective(s), 129-136, Orchestration of forces,

145-151 146-147, 150-151, 171Miltiades/Marathon, 172 O'Connor, Richard N., 87

Index 191

Pacific theater. 20, 5b, 71, 96. Sea Torces. See Naval forces107, 108. See also Japan Senger und Etterlin, Frido von,

air superioritv campaign in, 9029-34, 38, 60-63, 139-14- Soviet Union. See Russia

close air support in, 107, 108 Speer. -Albert, 123Palestine Liberation Organiza- Stalin, loset, 3

tion, 35 Stalingrad, Battle ot, 109, 110,"Panacea" target, 44 166Pantelleria, 149 Strategic Bombing Survey, 62,Park (Air Vice Marshal,. 115, 63, 107

120 Strategic level ot war. 4. 5. 7-8Patience and persistance, 31. "Strategic" attacks, 6-8

46-48, 49. 53-54 Supply chain, 8Patton, George, 107-108 Sweep option, 79Personnel Syria, 10, 17-18. 71

as air isuperioritv variable, 19,22-23, 80 Tactical level ot war, 4-5

as center ot gravity, 49-51 Theater air superiority, 13Japanese losses of, 33, 62 Theater commander, 4, 80, 137.

Petroleum chain. 7, 8, 45-46 95, See also Air commander

99, 136, 162 decisions of, 8-9, 10-11,Phasing, 20, 28-29. 153 145-147Poland, 14, 46-47, 66 political objectives and con-Political constraints, 21, 26, (4, straints on, 81. 132-133

81 Timing, b8-70, 118-119Politicai objectives. 129-1-32 Training, 73, 154, 167

Practice. See Training Transportation net, 43, 46, 99.Psychological wartare. 1I4-165 162

Truk, 33

Tsilli Tsilli, 33Rabaul, 33Reserves Ultra, 74. 121

historical examples of, 75, United States. 23, 35, 136-137,

119-124 166interdiction of, 88-92 attacks on Japan by, 56. 60-63

principles for employment bombing of Germany by, 7-8,

of, 34, 117-119, 165-166 39, 45-46. 69. 71, 123-124,

value of, xxiv-xxv, 115-117, 135-136, 138

124-127, 171 and close air support, 106,

Rommel, Erwin, 14, 87, 88, 91, 107-108, 112

92 in Korean War, 15-16, 21,Roosevelt, Franklin D., 3, 140 85-86. 136

Russia, 14-15, 23. See also Sta- and interdiction, 44, 89-90,lingrad, Battle of 91-92, 96

192 Index

and Pacific theater air superi- War, characteristics of, 3-5,ority campaign, 29-34, 38, 20-21, 59, 166, 171-172139-145 Wever, Walther, 59

in Vietnam, 12, 27, 44, Wewak, 31-33, 34, 96109-110, 134 Will, 8, 27-28, 65, 134-135

World War II. See also Britain,Vietnam war, 4, 80, 109-110 Battle of; Germany; Japan;

air defense in, 27-2 Pacific theater; Unitedair superiority in, 1,, Statesinterdiction in, 44, 94 levels of war in, 3-4, 6, 7-8objectives in 131-132, political and military objec-

Von Kluge (Ge. ral), 92 tives in, 129-131, 133Von Richthofen, Aanfred, 71Von Rundstedt, Karl, 8, 15, 56,

71, 91, 92

The Author

Colonel John A. Warden III, US Air Force, is SpecialAssistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff, Plans and Operations,Headquarters, United States Air Force. Before returning toWashington, he was Commander of the 36th Tactical FighterWing, Bitburg Air Base, Germany. He earned the BS degree atthe United States Air Force Academy, and an MA degree fromTexas Tech University. He did the research for and wrote thisbook while he was a student at the National War College.

Colonel Warden has served in a varietv of assignmentsthat have given him an opportunity to take part in air opera-tions and planning, from the unit level to the Air Staff. Whilea member of the Air Staff, he helped shape American plansfor the Persian Gulf and helped lay the basis for Central Com-mand. After duty on the Air Staff, Colonel Warden flew F-15sat Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, and then flew F-4s at MoodyAFB, Georgia. In both of these units, which were subordinateto Ninth Air Force, the air component of Central Command,he organized, directed, and flew long-range missions involv-ing a variety of combat and support aircraft. He also has com-manded a US Air Force unit on a European base jointly usedby four North Atlantic Treaty Organization nations.

Colonel Warden flew 266 combat missions as an OV-10forward air controller in Southeast Asia. He has more than3,000 hours of flying time.

THE AIR CAMPAIGN

Planning for Combat

Text and display type in OptimaTitle and half-title pages in Andover

Advisory readers:Stanley L. Falk, Alexandria, Va.,

andColonel James Gaston, US Air Force

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Title- and half-title-pagemechanicals: Rhonda Storey

Cover art and design by Laszlo L. Bodrogi

'44

AA

I A, r F,,re Photo

Training for the Air Campaign: An F-ill airdrops 24 Mark-82 low-drag bombs over the Nellis AFB range in Nevada.

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