Established in 2016, From Balloons to Drones is an online scholarly platform that analyses and debates air power history (including aviation history), theory, and contemporary operations in their broadest sense, including space and cyber power. To date, we have published over 250 articles on various air power-related subjects.
Since its emergence at the start of the 20th Century, air power has increasingly become the preferred form of military power for many governments. However, the application and development of air power are controversial and often misunderstood. To remedy this, From Balloons to Drones seeks to provide analysis and debate about air power through the publication of articles, research notes, commentaries, book reviews, and historic book reviews – see below for a description of the range of articles published.
The study of air power is to be understood broadly, encompassing not only the history of air warfare, including social and cultural aspects, but also incorporating contributions from related fields, such as archaeology, international relations, strategic studies, law and ethics. Possible subjects to be explored might include, but are not limited to:
Strategy, Theory and Doctrine | Organisation and Policy | Roles
Operations – Kinetic and Non-Kinetic | Tactics, Training and Procedures
Strategic and Operational Effect | Technological Developments
Ethical and Moral Issues | National, International and Transnational Experiences
Personal Experiences | Culture | Memory and Memorialisation
From Balloons to Drones welcomes and encourages potential submissions from postgraduates, academics, and practitioners involved in researching the subject of air power.
A US Air Force Fairchild C-119B Flying Boxcar air-dropping supplies near Chungju, Korea, in 1951. (Source: Wikimedia)
We publish:
Scholarly Articles
From Balloons to Drones publishes informative, peer-reviewed articles on air power that range from historical pieces to the analysis of contemporary challenges. These well-researched articles aim to bridge the gap between specialist and non-specialist readers. They should be around c. 3,000 words, though From Balloons to Drones will accept longer pieces. We reserve the right to publish them in parts.
Air War Books
From Balloons to Drones publishes a series of review articles that examine the top ten books that have influenced writers on air power. See more here.
Commentaries
From Balloons to Drones publishes opinion pieces on recent news on either contemporary or historical subjects. These should be no longer than c.1,000 words.
Research Notes
From Balloons to Drones publishes research notes on contributors’ current research projects. These take the form of more informal pieces and can be discussions of a source or notes on a recent research theme. These should be c.500 to 1,000 words.
Book Reviews
From Balloons to Drones publishes regular book reviews that aim to be an accessible collection of appraisals of recent publications about air power. If you are a publisher interested in having your publication reviewed, please contact us at the email address below. See more here.
Historic Book Reviews
From Balloons to Drones publishes occasional historic book reviews that aim to be an accessible collection of appraisals of critical historic publications about air power history, theory, and practice. See more here.
Submissions should be submitted in Word format and emailed to the address below with ‘SUBMISSION’ in the subject line. Also, please include a 50-100-word biography with your submission. References can be used, and please be careful to explain any jargon. However, if you are unsure if your idea fits our requirements, please email us with ‘POTENTIAL SUBMISSION’ in the subject line to discuss.
If you are interested in contributing, please email our Editor-in-Chief, Dr Ross Mahoney, at airpowerstudies@gmail.com or via our contact page here.
Header image: A Panavia Tornado GR4 of No. IX(B) Squadron on a training sortie in preparation for deployment to Afghanistan, c. 2012. (Source: Wikimedia)
Editorial note: This article appears on the author’s website. It has been reproduced here with permission.
D-Day, the Allied invasion of Europe in Normandy on 6 June 1944, has left an indelible mark on our cultural memory, as illustrated by the 2026 US release of the film Pressure. This film tells the story of the decision to launch the invasion from the perspective of General Dwight Eisenhower’s Chief Meteorological Officer, Group Captain James Stagg of the Royal Air Force (RAF). Australia’s role in the invasion of Europe was small compared with those of the main participants, the United Kingdom, Canada, and the United States; however, it was nonetheless significant. On 6 June, Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) units, in particular, served with the RAF’s 2nd Tactical Air Force, Bomber Command, and Coastal Command. However, the RAAF’s contribution to the war in the northern hemisphere was not limited to Northwest Europe.
From 1940 onwards, the RAAF had deployed units to the Middle East and North Africa. For example, in mid-1940, No. 3 Squadron, one of 12 pre-war permanent RAAF squadrons, was deployed to the Middle East to support the 2nd Australian Imperial Force. By June 1944, six RAAF units were deployed around the Mediterranean and in addition to No. 3 Squadron, the squadrons deployed included five Article XV Squadrons (Nos. 450, 451, 454, 458 and 459). Additionally, No. 462 Squadron had operated in the Mediterranean as a heavy bomber unit until it was converted to No. 614 Squadron RAF at the end of February 1944. Article XV Squadrons were those units raised and manned by graduates of the British Commonwealth Air Training Scheme. The RAAF raised 17 Article XV Squadrons during the Second World War, and the majority of these served under British command at various points.
Given the RAAF’s contribution to the broader Mediterranean during the Second World War, it is worth noting that while Australian contributions to D-Day were important, operations in the latter theatre continued. Indeed, operations at the tactical level on 6 June were very much business as usual despite the momentous events in Normandy. Moreover, and often overlooked, is the fact that on 5 June, the Allies took Rome, Italy’s capital. This came in the aftermath of the landings at Anzio (Operation ANVIL) and the breaking of the Gustav Line around Cassino (Operation DIADEM). In Italy, the period after the taking of Rome was characterised by operations to advance to the Gothic Line.
RAAF units deployed in the Mediterranean in 1944 came under the overall command of the Mediterranean Allied Air Force (MAAF), formed in December 1943 and commanded by Lieutenant-General Ira Eaker of the United States Army Air Forces. The MAAF comprised several major commands: the Mediterranean Allied Strategic Air Force, the Mediterranean Tactical Air Force (MATAF), the Mediterranean Allied Coastal Air Force (MACAF), RAF Middle East Command, the Mediterranean Allied Photographic Wing, and, from June 1944, the Balkan Air Force. Although no RAAF unit was assigned to the Balkan Air Force, at least 150 Australians served within its ranks.[1] Indeed, a sizeable number were assigned to No 148 Squadron RAF, which flew the Handley Page Halifax in the special duties’ role.[2] Additionally, for example, in 1944, there were ‘over 100 Australian individuals scattered among the various units of MACAF.[3]
Of the six RAAF squadrons in the Mediterranean, three operated as part of MATAF – Nos. 3, 450, and 451. Each undertook roles associated with fighter and tactical air operations in Italy, including fighter sweeps and direct air support to ground forces. Nos. 3 and 450 Squadron were part of No. 239 Wing. This Wing had been temporarily assigned to the US XII Air Support Command (ASC) until 6 June. However, on 6 June, control of Nos. 239 and 244 (which had also been attached to XII ASC) Wing reverted to the RAF’s Desert Air Force (DAF), commanded by Air Vice-Marshal William Dickson.[4] At the same time, DAF assumed responsibility for air operations on the fronts of the British Eighth Army and V Corps.[5] While key changes took place in the command and control of Nos. 3 and 450 Squadron, the day-to-day operations of the units remained largely unchanged. No. 3 Squadron was equipped with the Curtiss Kittyhawk IV and commanded by Squadron Leader R.H. Bayly. On 6 June, No. 3 Squadron was operating out of San Angelo and undertook four operations totalling 24 sorties.[6] Three of them were described as ‘armed recce’ operations, while one was to bomb motor transport in the Rocca Sinibalda area specifically. Total claims for the day were 12 motor transport and 2 tanks. Interestingly, the first operations failed to hit anything, but on the way back to San Angelo, they spotted 40 tanks and could not attack them for lack of bombs.[7] No. 450 Squadron, also equipped with the Curtiss Kittyhawk IV and flying out of San Angelo, undertook three operations and 24 sorties on 6 June.[8]
A Supermarine Spitfire MkIX aircraft of No. 451 Squadron RAAF, undergoing an engine overhaul by two squadron fitters in Corsica, June 1944. (Source: Australian War Memorial)
For No. 451 Squadron, operations were similar to those of Nos. 3 and 450 Squadron. However, the key difference was in the control of No. 451 Squadron. Originally raised in early 1941, No. 451 Squadron had served in North Africa and Syria and eventually re-equipped with the Supermarine Spitfire MkIX in early 1944. In April, they became part of No. 251 Wing RAF, which was attached to the US 87th Fighter Wing of XII ASC, though administratively under the command of DAF. No. 251 Wing served within the 87th Wing alongside another RAF wing, No. 322, also equipped with the Spitfire. Both ‘experienced’ wings ‘transferred specially for the task from the Middle East.’[9] Primarily, the 87th Wing was tasked with ‘the provision of escort to the Mitchells and Marauders of the 42nd and 57th Wings, and the disruption and destruction of enemy communications and supplies.’[10] Eighty-seven Wings’ brief also included ‘ground support missions’ and ‘anti-shipping strikes.’[11] As the RAF Air Historical Branch (AHB) narrative noted, between 5 and 15 June, a ‘considerable percentage of the Spitfire effort was spent on escorting the medium bombers based on Corsican and Sardinian fields.’[12] However, on 6 June, No. 451 Squadron undertook two ‘armed reece’ operations from their base in Corsica over the Italian mainland. These consisted of 20 sorties.[13]
One unit, No. 458 Squadron, operated with MACAF on 6 June as part of No. 328 Wing RAF. The Squadron, equipped with the Vickers Wellington MkXIV, was assigned to the US 63rd Fighter Wing. Alongside the rest of No. 328 Wing, No. 458 Squadron formed one part of the offensive element of the 63rd Wing, undertaking anti-shipping operations from Sardinia and mainland Italy.[14] Despite this, 6 June was quiet for No. 458 Squadron, as it was in the process of relocating its main operating base from Algeria to Alghero in Sardinia. Indeed, as John Herington remarked in the official history of RAAF air operations in Europe in 1944 and 1945, ‘[t]he month was a quiet one for No. 458 despite the momentous events in France and Italy.’[15] The squadron was ordered to move on 20 May, and its heavy equipment was loaded on 5 June; by 11 June, all aeroplanes had arrived at Alghero.[16] The road party of the squadron did not land on Sardinia until 20:00 hours on 6 June. Thus, elements of No. 458 Squadron spent most of that momentous day at sea.[17] Moreover, as recorded in the No. 458 Squadron Operation Record Book, the first operations from Alghero did not occur until the night of 13/14 June.[18]
Two RAAF squadrons, Nos. 454 and 459 operated under Air Headquarters Eastern Mediterranean, formed in February 1944 under Air Vice-Marshal Thomas Langford-Sainsbury. On 6 June, No. 454 Squadron was operating from RAF Berka in Libya and had been performing various roles, including bombing and anti-submarine operations. The squadron was equipped with the Martin Baltimore MkIV and V. Specifically, on 6 June, No. 454 Squadron flew three sorties providing anti-submarine cover for a convoy.[19] Due to visibility, one of the Baltimores struggled to locate the convoy. However, apart from that, there were no incidents on the day. The other squadron in AHQ Eastern Mediterranean was No. 459, equipped with the Lockheed Ventura MkV at RAF St Jean in Palestine. From here, it undertook bombing and anti-submarine operations in the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean. On 6 June, No. 459 Squadron undertook four sorties, including one aeroplane bombing seaplane installations in Rhodes harbour in the Aegean.[20] Interestingly, while No. 459 Squadron eventually replaced its Venturas with the Baltimore, the order of battle for 1 June in the relevant AHB Narrative for maritime air operations in the region suggests that the Squadron was to be replaced with the Vickers Warwick. Nonetheless, the eventual conversion of No. 459 Squadron to Baltimore’s implied a more aggressive role and was welcomed by the Squadron.[21]
These experiences were varied, reflecting the range and scope of operations undertaken by the RAAF as well as its geographical spread. They also differed from those of their RAAF counterparts in Northwest Europe, where operations were conducted under RAF command and control. In the Mediterranean, RAAF squadrons were deployed much more flexibly, as were RAF units, and often under US operational command, as illustrated by the experience of No. 451 Squadron. Finally, despite suggestions to the contrary, the Mediterranean was no backwater after the fall of Rome on 5 June, even on 6 June, when momentous events were unfolding elsewhere.
Dr Ross Mahoney is an independent scholar specialising in the history of war with particular reference to the use of air power and the history of air warfare. He is currently the Senior Historian within the Heritage Policy team at Brisbane City Council in Australia. He has nearly 20 years of experience in the education, museum and heritage sectors in Australia and the United Kingdom. Between 2013 and 2017, he was the inaugural Historian at the Royal Air Force Museum in the UK. In Australia, he has worked as a Historian for the Department of Veterans’ Affairs and taught at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at The Australian National University based at the Australian War College. His research interests are focused on the history of war, specifically on the history of air power and air warfare, military leadership and command, military culture, and the history and development of professional military education. He also maintains an interest in transport history. He has published numerous articles, chapters and encyclopedia entries, edited two books, and delivered papers on three continents. His website is here, and he can be found on Twitter at @airpowerhistory.
Header image: Nos. 3 and 450 Squadron RAAF moved from Cutella on the Adriatic to San Angelo on the west coast of Italy. It is springtime and warm enough to enjoy a swim in the river, c. 1944. (Source: Australian War Memorial)
[1] John Herington, Australia in the War of 1939–1945: Series 3 – Air, Volume IV – Air Power Over Europe, 1944–1945 (Canberra, ACT: Australian War Memorial, 1963), p. 329.
On this day ten years ago, From Balloons to Drones published its first post, an editorial announcing the new webzine. Since then, we have published a range of content, including articles, book reviews, and our podcast series.
The webzine’s origins lie in a 2016 decision to gauge interest among air power scholars on Twitter in creating a collegiate website. After receiving positive feedback, development of From Balloons to Drones moved quickly (indeed, LinkedIn suggests 12 June was the day I ‘created’ the webzine). From then on, we began publishing articles. I originally ran the website on my own, but by 2018, I had recruited a couple of editors, two of whom – Dr Brian Laslie and Dr Michael Hankins – still work for the webzine. Over time, many emerging scholars have worked for From Balloons to Drones. Past editors include Alex Fitzgerald-Black, Dr Victoria Taylor, Dr Luke Truxal, and James Jeffries. In addition to Brian and Mike, the current editorial team consists of Dr Maria Burczynska, Luca Chadwick and Abby Whitlock. I am grateful for the hard work each of our editors has put into the webzine to make it a success.
We have published 333 posts (including this one), including 94 articles on a variety of subjects, 22 research notes, 19 commentaries, 77 book reviews, and numerous editorials. We have also produced 51 podcasts, interviewing numerous experts in air power studies. We have published a few Historic Book Reviews and run a series reviewing Apple TV’s Masters of the Air. In addition, we launched our ‘Air and Space Bibliography’ on Zotero in 2023 to catalogue works in our fields. The database currently has 2,014 entries and is constantly growing.
The scope of articles published by From Balloons to Drones reflects our philosophy that the study of air power should not focus solely on operations. From Balloons to Drones builds on the argument presented by noted air power scholar John Andreas Olsen in 2018 that air power is more than just ‘aircraft, weapons systems and bombing.’[1] We accept that any analysis of air power must also encompass, though not be limited to, issues such as ‘training, education, values, rules of engagement, leadership, adaptability, boldness in execution, and a range of other factors, tangible and non-tangible, that influence a military operation.’[2] Given this broad view, From Balloons to Drones has always encouraged a healthy discussion of the use of air power in its broadest sense. This has included articles on a wide range of factors, including operations, education, and the experiences of airmen who became prisoners of war.
The subjects covered in our articles are reflected in the webzine’s top 10 most-read articles:
We are grateful for all the submissions we have received over the years. Without our contributors, there would be no webzine and nothing for our readers to read. However, we are always on the lookout for new contributions from established authors or emerging scholars in the air power studies community. If you are interested in contributing, please visit our submissions page to learn how.
So, what about the future? More of the same, but better. We remain true to our original vision of providing an avenue for debate and discussion about air power. We will continue to refine our content offerings and build on the success of the past 10 years. However, we are always keen to hear your views on what we publish. If there is an area of research that needs more coverage, please let us know.
Dr Ross Mahoney is an independent scholar specialising in the history of war with particular reference to the use of air power and the history of air warfare. He is currently the Senior Historian within the Heritage Policy team at Brisbane City Council in Australia. He has nearly 20 years of experience in the education, museum and heritage sectors in Australia and the United Kingdom. Between 2013 and 2017, he was the inaugural Historian at the Royal Air Force Museum in the UK. In Australia, he has worked as a Historian for the Department of Veterans’ Affairs and taught at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at The Australian National University based at the Australian War College. His research interests are focused on the history of war, specifically on the history of air power and air warfare, military leadership and command, military culture, and the history and development of professional military education. He also maintains an interest in transport history. He has published numerous articles, chapters and encyclopedia entries, edited two books, and delivered papers on three continents. His Substack is here, and he can be found on Twitter at @airpowerhistory.
Header image: The MC-55A Peregrine is a first-of-type, airborne intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance and electronic warfare (ISREW) aircraft for the Australian Defence Force. The first MC-55A arrived in Australia in January 2026. Modelled on the Gulfstream G550 airframe and extensively modified by L3Harris Technologies, the MC-55A is a long-range, persistent ISREW platform able to deliver multi-intelligence effects. The MC-55A Peregrine will be operated by RAAF’s Number 10 Squadron and will be based at RAAF Base Edinburgh in South Australia. Government approved the purchase of four MC-55A aircraft at an allocated cost of $2.399 billion. (Source: Department of Defence)
[1] John Andreas Olsen, ‘Introduction’ in John Andreas Olsen (ed.), Routledge Handbook of Air Power (Abingdon: Routledge, 2018), p. 5.
Randall Wakelam, William March and Peter Rayls (eds.), On the Wings of War and Peace: The RCAF during the Early Cold War. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 2023. Glossary. Appendices. Index. xix + 438 pp.
The early years of the Cold War, particularly the 1950s, have been described as the ‘Golden Years’ of the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). After demobilisation at the end of the Second World War, the RCAF grew to 41 squadrons, roughly 50,000 personnel, and took the lion’s share of the Canadian defence budget. However, in 1968, the RCAF was unified with the other Canadian services and was already shrinking. For example, the RCAF’s major contribution to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the 1 Canadian Air Division (1 CAD), based in France and Germany, went from 12 squadrons in the 1950s to just three in 1970, when the Division was renamed the 1 Canadian Air Group.
This volume, edited by Randall Wakelam, William March and Peter Rayls, tells the story of the RCAF during this period of growth and decline. As the editors note in the preface to the book, the raison d’être for producing this volume was because it seemed that the planned fourth volume of the RCAF official history, commissioned in 2015, which would deal with this period, was unlikely to appear by 2024, the centenary of the Air Force (p. xiv). Indeed, the editors have assembled a highly qualified group of authors who are well-versed in their respective subjects. Many of them have earned PhDs and written monographs about their chapters. For example, Ray Stouffer, who wrote the chapter on 1 CAD (pp. 38-59), completed his 2005 PhD at the Royal Military College of Canada on the development of the Division that became the basis for his 2015 book on the same subject, Swords, Clunks & Widowmakers. Similarly, Richard Geotte, who contributes a chapter on the relationship between the RCAF and the United States Air Force and continental air defence before the formation of the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) (pp. 60-81), completed a PhD on the same subject in 2009. This became the basis for his 2018 monograph, Sovereignty and Command in Canada-US Continental Air Defence, 1940-1957.
The book itself comprises 16 chapters split into 3 sections. Each section focuses on a key area of the RCAF’s history and begins with an introduction from one of the editors, followed by the chapters. The first section comprises four chapters that deal with aspects of national security policy and strategy. In addition to the aforementioned chapters on 1 CAD and the pre-history of NORAD, the section includes two chapters on the expansion and contraction of the RCAF during this period, as well as on NORAD’s history after its formation in 1957. Each of these chapters ably sets the scene for the chapters that follow. As Bertram Frandsen and Rayls argue in their opening chapter on the RCAF, the rise and fall of the Air Force lies in the relationship between their policy and broader Canadian government policy (p. 31). In the early part of the period under question, the RCAF managed to synchronise its policy with that of the government; however, when government policy changed in the late 1950s and 1960s, the Air Force was either unable or unwilling to adapt to the new operating environment. The need for all military services to reflect on their role not only within a country’s national security framework but also in broader domestic and foreign policies remains important.
An RCAF Avro Canada CF-100 Mk. 5 Canuck in flight over Niagara Falls, in the 1960s. (Source: Wikimedia)
The second section addresses the people and resources required to implement the RCAF’s policy and strategy. This section comprises six chapters covering subjects such as the cancellation of the Avro CF-105 Arrow and air power education. The history of the Arrow is a well-trodden subject, with many popular published histories and numerous conspiracy theories. Conversely, Russell Isinger and Donald Story offer a much more balanced account of the project. As they argue, by solely focusing on the aeroplane, the RCAF displayed a level of hubris that was out of step and ‘signalled the end of the RCAF’s pre-eminent role in the formation and implementation of Canadian defence policy’ (p. 123). Indeed, in many respects, this case study into the Arrow highlights the argument made by Frandsen and Rayls earlier in the volume regarding the synchronisation between service and government policy. Wakelam’s chapter on education makes a worthy contribution to the growing literature on professional military education in air forces. It should be read alongside Goette’s chapter on the RCAF Staff College in this period in the edited volume Educating Air Forces (2020). Noted air power specialist Allan English provides a chapter on a little-noted subject, women in the RCAF. This is an important subject, and it is pleasing to see the editor has included it in the volume. As English concludes, at least 10,000 women served in the RCAF between 1952 and 1962, and ‘they made a vital contribution to the RCAF during its rapid Cold War expansion’ and that story should not be erased from the history books (p. 223).
The final section of the book, comprising six chapters, deals with specific roles and functions of the RCAF during the early Cold War. Subjects range from the RCAF involvement in early space-based operations, search and rescue, humanitarian operations, maritime air power, air support for the Canadian Army and air mobility. These roles are among the less fashionable undertaken by air forces and receive less attention than the more fashionable offensive roles, such as air defence. Indeed, as James Pierotti’s chapter on the development of the RCAF’s SAR capability illustrates, in the mid-1950s the Air Force’s fixation on the 1 CAD meant SAR was not a priority (p. 288). Moreover, many of the challenges associated with the development of SAR were not resolved until after unification in 1968 (p. 295). Nonetheless, as March notes in his introduction to this section, the chapters help fill in ‘some of the historiographical blanks’ present in the literature of the RCAF in this era (p. 253).
Given that the fourth volume of the RCAF’s official history is yet to appear, this edited volume is a worthwhile and important addition to the literature. Despite the scope of the subject, readers will find links between the subjects that go beyond a mere examination of the RCAF’s rise and fall during this period. Indeed, the volume goes beyond the typical literature focused on operations, especially on fashionable subjects, and the editors are to be commended for bringing it to fruition.
Dr Ross Mahoney is an independent scholar specialising in the history of war with particular reference to the use of air power and the history of air warfare. He is currently the Senior Historian within the Heritage Policy team at Brisbane City Council in Australia. He has nearly 20 years of experience in the education, museum and heritage sectors in Australia and the United Kingdom. Between 2013 and 2017, he was the inaugural Historian at the Royal Air Force Museum in the UK. In Australia, he has worked as a Historian for the Department of Veterans’ Affairs and taught at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at The Australian National University based at the Australian War College. His research interests are focused on the history of war, specifically on the history of air power and air warfare, military leadership and command, military culture, and the history and development of professional military education. He also maintains an interest in transport history. He has published numerous articles, chapters and encyclopedia entries, edited two books, and delivered papers on three continents.
Header image: The unveiling of the Avro CF-105 Arrow, 4 October 1957. The pilots are Ron Hodge on the left and Ed Wright on the right. (Source: Library and Archives Canada)
The military technology of the Roman legions changed little during the six centuries between the conquest of Greece and the fall of Rome. This relative stability began to erode with the transformations brought about by the Industrial Revolution and was later accelerated by digitalisation and rapid technological innovation. As technological change has intensified, states have become increasingly anxious about not falling behind developments that could put them at a disadvantage relative to their adversaries. Yet adopting new technologies can also be risky. To reduce these risks, states closely observe ongoing conflicts and adopt models that appear effective.
However, recent conflicts have shown that emulation does not only occur from weaker states to stronger ones. On the contrary, the rising costs of complex military systems such as fighter jets, missiles, and rocket systems have prompted many major actors to seek alternatives.
Diffusion of One-Way-Attack Drones:
Over the past decade, drones have emerged as one such option in multiple conflicts. Despite their limited capabilities compared to manned aircraft, their relatively low cost, unmanned status, and smaller radar signature have made them attractive tools, demonstrating notable success in conflicts such as Libya, Nagorno-Karabakh, and Syria. Yet the opening phases of the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian War quickly revealed the limits of large drones, which proved vulnerable to well-established air defence systems. Moreover, as the war dragged on, even their production costs and manufacturing pace came under scrutiny amid a prolonged, high-intensity conflict.
Faced with constant Russian missile barrages, Ukraine was the first to take the initiative by responding with smaller and cheaper drones. Despite attracting global attention in the early days of the war, when its Bayraktar TB2s struck advancing Russian columns, it soon lost a substantial portion of its larger drones to Russian air defence systems. Yet, Kyiv adapted quickly. By arming commercial drones and rapidly expanding domestic production, Ukraine turned smaller, mostly first-person-view drones into a critical component of its defence. The effectiveness of these systems was not only reflected in widely circulated Ukrainian social media footage showing the destruction of Russian troops and military equipment. It was also confirmed by Russia’s adoption of similar tactics, which Chavez and Swed describe as the ‘emulation of the underdog.’
After seeing the effectiveness of Ukrainian one-way attack drones, Moscow not only began developing its own variants but also sought alternatives that could be employed effectively at scale. Accordingly, Iran’s Shahed drones were procured and modified into Russia’s own variant, known as the Geran. While Russia’s procurement of the Geran can partly be explained by its limited production capabilities and the rising costs associated with the unexpectedly prolonged war, the decision to introduce these systems was also closely connected to Moscow’s first-hand experience of the damage inflicted by Ukrainian attacks.
A Shahed-136 on display at the 2023 Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps Aerospace Force achievements Exhibition in Kermanshah in 2023. (Source: Wikimedia)
Emulating the Underdog
Today, a similar pattern is emerging in the Middle East. In response to the strategic and complex airstrikes conducted by Israeli and U.S. air forces since early 2024, Iran has relied on mass missile and drone attacks. As part of these largely indiscriminate strikes, Tehran’s strategy has not been to match these operations by targeting equivalent strategic objectives, but rather to overwhelm the air defence inventories of Israel and the United States and inflict enough damage to generate political pressure on their administrations.
Accordingly, before the operation, the United States deployed additional assets to the region to counter this threat, implicitly acknowledging the operational usefulness of such drones. However, this dynamic deepened when Washington announced that it had reverse-engineered these one-way attack drones and operationalised them during Operation Epic Fury. Finally, on the fifth day of the campaign, President Trump, referring to Ukraine’s experience against Shahed systems and the damage they have inflicted in this conflict, stated that the United States would “take any assistance from any country,” illustrating once more how even a more capable military power may benefit from the battlefield experience of states that have already confronted such threats.
The emulation and adaptation of the Iranian Shahed drones is neither the first nor the last time that a state has adopted a successful model developed elsewhere. However, it is relatively rare to see a superior power emulate the practices of a weaker actor. In the end, even great powers such as the United States remain rational actors seeking the most effective outcome. The ability of such a capable air force to adapt to emerging threats demonstrates the U.S. military leadership’s responsiveness and its close attention to evolving patterns of warfare. More importantly, it reminds us that in the never-ending technological competition for aerial dominance, the best solution is not always the most complex one. Sometimes the simplest answer proves the most effective.
Ömer Ergün Özkan is a PhD candidate in the School of Public and International Affairs at the University of Cincinnati. His research examines military effectiveness, the impact of emerging technologies on defence procurement, and the strategic use of unmanned systems in modern warfare. He is also a Research Fellow at the Linda Hall Library in Kansas City, Missouri. He can be followed on X as @ErgnZkan.
Header image: The remains of a Russian Geran-2(Shahed) drone, found in the Vinnytsia region of Ukraine in March 2024. (Source: Wikimedia)
Rob Zettel, American MiG Pilot: Inside the Top Secret USAF “Red Eagles” MiG Squadron. Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2026. Appendices. Glossary. Index. Images. Hbk. 366 pp.
The reviewer approached Osprey Publishing’s new work, American MiG Pilot: Inside the Top Secret USAF “Red Eagles” MiG Squadron, with a bit of trepidation. What else could be said of the now-famous American MiG Squadron? After all, two previously published works in recent years have certainly told the story. Duly humbled after reading it, I answer the question of what remains to be said: quite a lot. This work represents the third book in what Osprey should call their ‘MiG trilogy.’ Beginning with Steve Davies’ Red Eagles: America’s Secret MiGs (2008), the groundbreaking first book detailing the existence and operations of the 4477th Test and Evaluation Squadron and followed by Colonel Gaillard ‘Evil’ Peck’s book America’s Secret MiG Squadron: The Red Eagles of Project CONSTANT PEG (2012) where the author, a former commander of the 4477th, details the genesis and early days of the program. Finally, this new work by Lieutenant Colonel Rob ‘Z-Man’ Zettel provides a line pilot’s view of the tactical flying inside the unit. It is a damn good story, and Zettel tells it with the skill of a seasoned writer, not someone approaching the craft of writing for the first time.
Zettel’s work begins with his desire to become a pilot in the United States Air Force (USAF) and his journey from a high school underachiever to an ROTC graduate headed to pilot training, where he earned an F-4 slot. From there, the book nicely details the post-Vietnam era inside the USAF through the eyes of one of its junior Officers. Despite clearly being an excellent ‘stick and rudder’ pilot, Zettel comes across throughout the book as humble, a fighter pilot just trying to do his best day in and day out, long before the USAF Fighter Weapons School took as its moniker ‘Humble, Credible, and Approachable.’ The same cannot be said of numerous other fighter pilot memoirs, where authors clearly keep the focus on themselves.
The book reiterates what those who study the USAF after Vietnam already recognize: the importance of realistic training in the post-Vietnam era, the creation of Red Flag and the Aggressor squadrons as an impetus for change throughout the organization and how these exercises, events, and training regimens dramatically improved American pilot capability in the years before the aerial conflicts of the 1990s, most notably Operation Desert Storm (Operation El Dorado Canyon garners an interesting position in this work as well). Zettel’s book ‘bridges the gap’ between the Vietnam and Desert Storm generations, which many scholars of aviation and air power history now view as the ‘second inter-war period’ for its technological advancements, doctrinal changes, inter-service agreements, and the melding of these with individual pilot improvement. This latter point was the mission of the 4477th Test and Evaluation Squadron: to expose American fighter pilots to Soviet- and Chinese-made fighter aircraft.
Zettel details his personal career path: how he turned down a chance to attend the weapons school for a chance (with no guarantee) to be selected for an assignment to the Aggressor Squadron at Clark, AFB. This leap of faith set the course for his career from then on. Zettel gained an Aggressor slot and was later interviewed for the 4477th Test and Evaluation Squadron, selected in 1983. Zettel’s humility belies an essential truth: he was one of the best fighter pilots in the USAF.
While his ‘stick and rudder’ skills have been mentioned, it seems evident that Zettel was a quiet professional who took his craft of imparting his knowledge as an aggressor squadron pilot very seriously. His assignment to the 4477th Test and Evaluation Squadron fills the bulk of the pages. American MiG Pilot might be the best of Osprey’s ‘MiG trilogy,’ but it is not for the uninitiated. Comfort with high vs low speed engagements, lift vectors, one vs two-circle fights, and angle of attack, all prerequisites to diving into this work, one finds oneself at a loss to understand where in time and space the aircraft being discussed are and how they are moving relative to each other. The reviewer recommends Robert Shaw’s Fighter Combat: Tactics and Maneuvering (1985) as an excellent primer. While fighter pilots will especially enjoy this work, historians seeking to understand developments in the USAF at the tactical level between 1975 and 1991 will find much to consider here. Zettel nicely bridges the gap between more academic work and the prolific ‘there I was’ popular histories. While this is Zettel’s first foray into the written word, let us hope it is not his last. Any student or scholar of air power and the Cold War is sure to enjoy and find this work useful.
Dr Brian Laslie is a noted air power historian, having authored The Sundowners, Pegasus, and Little Butch: Carrier Air Group Eleven and the War in the Pacific, 1943-1945 (2025), Air Power’s Lost Cause: The American Air Wars of Vietnam (2021), Architect of Air Power: General Laurence S. Kuter and the Birth of the US Air Force (2017) and The Air Force Way of War (2015). The latter book was selected for the Chief of Staff of the Air Force’s 2016 professional reading list and the 2017 RAF Chief of the Air Staff’s reading list. US Air Force Historian and Command Historian at the United States Air Force Academy. Formerly, he was the Deputy Command Historian at the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) and United States Northern Command (USNORTHCOM). A 2001 graduate of The Citadel and a historian of air power studies, he received his Masters’ from Auburn University Montgomery in 2006 and his PhD from Kansas State University in 2013.
Header image: The ‘Constant Peg: Secret MiGs in the Desert’ exhibit on display in the Cold War Gallery at the National Museum of the US Air Force. (Source: National Museum of the US Air Force)
Editorial note: This article appears on the author’s website. It has been reproduced here with permission.
On 26 July 1950, No. 1 Squadron of the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) conducted its first operations in support of Operation FIREDOG, the British Commonwealth’s air operations against insurgents during the Malayan Emergency. The operation consisted of two missions. The first operation involved two GAF Lincolns (A73-36 and A73-31), which dropped 20 1,000-pound bombs from an altitude of 5,000 feet over the Kota Tinggi area. The attack was commanded by the commanding officer of No. 1 Squadron, Squadron Leader Len Williamson. The second mission saw two more Lincolns (A73-39 and A73-31) attack targets in the Yong Peng area. This time, the attack was a combination of dropping bombs (20 x 1,000lb bombs) from 5,000 feet with strafing. The Operations Record Book for 26 July noted that the British Army reported the attack on Yong Peng had been successful, while the success of the raid on Kota Tinggi was yet to be reported.[1] These operations took place just 10 days after No. 1 Squadron arrived at RAF Tengah in Singapore on 17 July 1950.[2]
After several years of peaceful protest, on 16 June 1948, three European estate managers and two Asians were murdered in Malaya. This led to the declaration of an emergency in Malaya, which in turn prompted a counterinsurgency against the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) and its military arm, the Malayan National Liberation Army (MNLA). The counterinsurgency officially ended in 1960; however, a second communist insurgency took place in Malaysia from the late 1960s to 1989. In 1950, the British launched the so-called Briggs Plan to deal with the insurgency. Named after the Director of Operations, General Sir Harold Briggs, the plan aimed to cut the MCP and MNLA off from the populace by combining civil and military actions. In severing the MCP and MNLA off from its primary source of supply, it was hoped to destroy ‘the terrorists and preventing a recurrence of their activities.’[3]
The use of air power in support of counterinsurgency operations during the Malayan Emergency became known as FIREDOG. It utilised both kinetic and non-kinetic forms of air power.[4] Primarily, air power was used to provide offensive air support, a variety of air transport roles and air reconnaissance. By 1954, offensive air support had been codified to include air strikes, harassing attacks, close support, air alert, and psychological warfare.[5] With regard to No. 1 Squadron, the RAF Air Historical Branch’s narrative on FIREDOG noted that in this role, an ‘Australian medium bomber squadron bore the brunt of offensive operations from 1950 to 1958.’[6]
In June 1950, the RAAF’s first deployment to Malaya came in the form of No. 38 Squadron equipped with the Douglas C-47 Dakota. This came about because on 21 April 1950, the British Government requested Australian support in Malaya in the form of ‘air reinforcements.’ Specifically, the British sought a transport squadron, a ‘squadron or flight’ of Lincoln bombers and support for servicing aeroplanes either in Singapore ‘and/or’ Australia.[7] This led to a meeting of the Defence Committee on 27 April, which agreed with the idea that Australia might contribute a transport squadron and a ‘small squadron’ of four Avro Lincolns to the air effort over Malaya.[8] The Chief of the Air Staff (CAS), Air Marshal George Jones, noted that the contribution of Lincolns could be increased to six at a later date. On 19 May, the Australian Government agreed to the dispatch of No. 38 Squadron but not the Lincolns.[9] At the end of May, the Prime Minister, Robert Menzies, announced the dispatch of No. 38 Squadron in Parliament and noted that ‘the winning of the “cold” war in Malaya is of vital importance to the security of Australia.’[10] However, the reticence to dispatch Lincolns was partly due to Menzies’s scepticism about the efficacy of air power in this type of conflict.[11] The outbreak of the Korean War at the end of June 1950 shifted this perception.
On 27 June, the Australian Government finally resolved to deploy No. 1 Squadron to Malaya. As the Official Historian of Australia’s contribution to the Korean War, Robert O’Neill has written:
It is significant that Australia’s first military response to the outbreak of the Korean war was to undertake at once a commitment elsewhere [Malaya] of a kind which, until the outbreak of hostilities in Korea, it had been reluctant to accept.[12]
More recently, in 2017, Andrea Benvenuti wrote that the outbreak of the Korean War dispelled the Australian Government’s ‘last reservations’ over the deployment.[13] Further announcements by the Australian Government clarified the links between Korea and Malaya. They were seen as part of the same problem: communist aggression against the West. The British High Commission in Canberra recorded that the news of the deployment of No. 1 Squadron had been received with ‘great pleasure in London.’[14]
No. 1 Squadron received its orders on 28 June and began preparing for deployment by the start of July.[15] This included, for example, Williamson interviewing the ‘Immigration Department and Taxation Department officials’ about the clearances required for personnel deploying to Malaya.[16] The squadron departed RAAF Station Amberley on 15 July, stopping at Darwin en route to RAF Tengah in Singapore, where it arrived on 16 July. [17] By October 1950, No. 1 Squadron was stationed alongside 60 Squadron RAF, equipped with the Supermarine Spitfire FMk18 and 45 and 84 Squadrons RAF equipped with the Bristol Brigand B1.
No. 1 Squadron increased in strength to eight Lincolns in 1951 and would stay in Malaya until 1958. As David Lee, in his history of the RAF in the Far East, wrote, the squadron had made ‘a great contribution to FIREDOG operations for almost eight years, and its departure from Tengah was viewed with much regret.’[18] During this time, in 1955, it would be assigned to the newly established British Commonwealth Far East Strategic Reserve, to which Australia would contribute one bomber and two fighter squadrons.[19] Also, during this time, as a mark of the growing importance of the RAAF’s contribution to the campaign in Malaya and Australia’s growing ‘strategic interests’ in the region, Air Vice-Marshal Frederick Scherger was appointed Air Officer Commanding (AOC) Air Headquarters (AHQ) Malaya for two years between 1953 and 1955.[20] Air Vice-Marshal Valston Hancock would also serve as AOC for several months in 1957 before AHQ Malaya was reduced to No. 224 Group. Hancock continued to command No. 224 Group until mid-1959. Both Scherger and Hancock would go on to become CAS. The RAAF also took over Butterworth air base from the RAF and operated permanent squadrons from there until 1988.[21] The RAAF continues to maintain a presence at Butterworth, underscoring the region’s importance to Australian security.
Dr Ross Mahoney is an independent scholar specialising in the history of war, with a particular focus on the use of air power and the history of air warfare. He is the Editor-in-Chief of From Balloons to Drones and currently the Senior Historian within the Heritage Policy team at Brisbane City Council in Australia. He has nearly 20 years of experience in the education, museum and heritage sectors in Australia and the United Kingdom, including serving as the inaugural Historian at the Royal Air Force Museum between 2013 and 2017. His other research interests are military leadership and command, military culture, and the history and development of professional military education. He also maintains an interest in transport history. He has published numerous articles, chapters and encyclopedia entries, edited two books, and delivered papers on three continents. His website is here.
Header image: A No. 1 Squadron RAAF crew in front of their GAF Lincoln after returning from a mission over Malaya, c. 1950. (Source: Australian War Memorial)
[1] National Archives of Australia (NAA), A9186, 2, No. 1 Squadron, Operations Record Book, 26 July 1950; ‘First Malayan Strike by RAAF,’ Daily Mirror, 27 July 1950, p. 6.
[2] ‘Planes Land at Singapore for Use in Malaya,’ Daily Mirror, 17 July 1950, p. 1.
[3] AP3410, The Malayan Emergency, 1948–1960 (London: Ministry of Defence, 1970), p. 16.
[4] The starting point for any analysis of the use of air power during the Malayan Emergency should be the RAF’s Air Historical Branch narrative: AP3410, The Malayan Emergency. This was later published as Malcolm R. Postgate, Operation Firedog: Air Support in the Malayan Emergency 1948–1960 (London: HMSO, 1992). Also see: Malcolm Postgate, ‘Operation Firedog: Air Support in the Malayan Emergency’ in Roger Miller (ed.), Seeing off the Bear: Anglo-American Cooperation during the Cold War (Washinton DC: United States Air Force History and Museums Program, 1995), pp. 181-90; David Jordan, ‘Countering Insurgency from the Air: The Postwar Lessons,’ Contemporary Security Policy 28, no. 1 (2007), pp. 96-111; Andrew Mumford, ‘Unnecessary or unsung? The utilisation of airpower in Britain’s colonial counterinsurgencies,’ Small Wars & Insurgencies 20, no. 3-4 (2009), pp. 638-44; Sebastian Ritche, The RAF, Small War and Insurgencies: Later Colonial Operations, 1945-1975 (London: Air Historical Branch, 2011), pp. 15-35; Roger Arditti, ‘The view from above: how the Royal Air Force provided a strategic vision for operational intelligence during the Malayan Emergency,’ Small Wars & Insurgencies 26, no. 5, (2015), pp. 764–789. For a view of Australian air power and the Malayan Emergency, see: Alan Stephens, Going Solo: The Royal Australian Air Force, 1946-1971 (Canberra, ACT: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1995), pp. 224-44; Mark Lax, Malayan Emergency and Indonesian Confrontation, 1950 to 1966 (Newport, NSW: Big Sky Publishing, 2021); Peter Hunter, ‘Australian air power strategy, technologies, and counter-insurgency in Malaya during the Cold War’ in Nicole Townsend, Kus Pandey, Jarrod Pendlebury (eds.), Australian Perspectives on Global Air and Space Power: Past, Present, Future (Abingdon: Routledge, 2023), pp. 46-60.
[5] Lax, Malayan Emergency and Indonesian Confrontation, p. 108.
[7] NAA, A1209, 1957/4513, Office of the British High Commissioner to the Prime Minister, 21 April 1950.
[8] NAA, A2031, 59/1950, Minutes of a Meeting by the Defence Committee, 27 April 1950; Lax, Malayan Emergency and Indonesian Confrontation, p. 74.
[9] NAA, A4638, SET 2, Minutes of the Meeting of Cabinet, p. 3.
[10] NAA, A1209, 1957/4513, Statement by the Prime Minister in the House of Representatives, 31 May 1950, p. 2.
[11] Lax, Malayan Emergency and Indonesian Confrontation, p. 74.
[12] Robert O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1: Strategy and Diplomacy (Canberra, ACT: The Australian War Memorial and the Australian Government Publishing Service, 1981), p. 48.
[13] Andrea Benvenuti, Cold War and Decolonisation: Australia’s Policy Towards Britain’s End of Empire in Southeast Asia (Singapore: NUS Press, 2017), p. 20.
[14] NAA, A1209, 1957/4513, Office of the British High Commissioner to the Prime Minister, 1 July 1950.
[15] Lax, Malayan Emergency and Indonesian Confrontation, p. 111.
[16] NAA, A9186, 2, No. 1 Squadron, Operations Record Book, 4 July 1950.
[17] NAA, A9186, 2, No. 1 Squadron, Operations Record Book, 15/16 July 1950.
[18] David Lee, Eastwood: A History of the Royal Air Force in the Far East, 1945-1972 (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1984), pp. 150-1.
[19] Tristan Moss, ‘Planning for war in Southeast Asia: The Far East Strategic Reserve, 1955–66’ in Peter Dean and Tristan Moss (eds), Fighting Australia’s Cold War: The Nexus of Strategy and Operations in a Multipolar Asia, 1945–1965 (Canberra, ACT: ANU Press, 2021), p. 99.
[20] NAA, A5954, 2293/1, Office of the High Commissioner to the Prime Minister’s Department, 10 May 1952.
[21] On life at RAAF Butterworth, see: Matthew Radcliffe, Kampong Australia: The RAAF at Butterworth (Sydney, NSW: NewSouth Publishing, 2017).
Editorial note: This article first appeared on the author’s website. It has been reproduced here with permission.
During its existence from 1922 to 1997, the Royal Air Force (RAF) Staff College was located in several different places. When the Staff College was initially founded in 1922, it was located at Andover and remained there until the course was suspended in 1940. When the RAF reestablished its Staff College in late 1941, it did so at Bulstrode Park, Gerrards Cross. The first course at Bulstrode Park began in January 1942. It remained here until the Staff College transferred to Bracknell in 1945. At the same time as the move to Bracknell, a detachment of the Staff College remained at Gerrards Cross, and this eventually transferred to Andover in 1948. Bracknell was responsible for providing command and staff training to officers of the RAF, the United States Air Force, and members of the air forces of the ‘old’ Dominions. Andover provided command and staff training to members of the RAF and other foreign air forces. In 1965, it was announced that the two Staff Colleges would merge and be located in Bracknell. This eventually happened at the end of 1969. This is where the Staff College remained and eventually merged to become the Joint Services Command and Staff College in 1997.
This, however, is not the whole story. As well as its primary Staff College in the UK, the RAF also provided command and staff training in the Middle East at Haifa, Palestine (modern-day Israel), for four years. In 1940, the British Army established the Middle East Staff School, and in late 1941, they admitted RAF students to the No. 5 War Course. Then, from No. 6 War Course in early 1942, an RAF Wing was added to the Middle East Staff School.[1] During the No. 12 War Course in 1944, the RAF Wing became its own reporting unit, the RAF Staff College (Overseas).[2] It came under the administrative control of Air Headquarters Levant. The first Commandant was Air Commodore S.H.C. Gray, formerly the senior RAF instructor at the Middle East Staff School. The object of Haifa was to ‘train Staff Officers, not necessarily Commanders’ while the syllabus mirrored that undertaken at the Staff College back in the UK.[3] The last course, No. 16 War Course, took place in 1946 and ended in October. After this date, both the RAF Staff College and Army Staff College (the Middle East Staff School had been redesignated the Middle East Staff College in 1943) were disbanded.[4]
It is hard, without further research, to assess the impact of the RAF Staff College (Overseas) at Haifa, but it was clearly an important institution. As the then Wing Commander R.A. Mason (later Air Vice-Marshal Professor Tony Mason) noted in 1972, ‘the constant opportunities for joint service studies [at Haifa] conferred no small advantage on the Middle Eastern College over its Gerrards Cross counterpart.’[5] However, Mason’s conclusion was not his own, and context is important here. As the RAF Staff College prepared to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of its establishment, two publications appear to have been commissioned to detail the history of the institution.[6] The first was a history of the Staff College, written by Mason and widely cited by historians since. However, his was not the only volume commissioned. Another volume of the history of the Staff College at Haifa was also commissioned. Squadron Leader D.J. Read wrote this. This history detailed the Staff College at Haifa, but, unlike Mason’s more widely known counterpart, it is not widely cited. Indeed, I know of several copies in the library at the RAF Museum and a copy at the National Archives at Kew.[7] Importantly, while Mason details Haifa in his history, he is indebted to Read’s history.[8] For example, while Mason noted the importance of ‘jointery’ at Haifa, it was Read who reflected that:
Sometime in the future 2, or all 3, of Britain’s armed forces may well decide to combine their Staff Colleges into one establishment. If and when this occurs there may well be a temptation to acclaim the occurrence as a ‘first’. But perhaps someone will be around to remind the publicists that, for a few years in the mid-1940s, the Army and Royal Air Force had co-located Staff Colleges at The Telsch Hotel on Mount Carmel, Haifa.[9]
Of course, the Staff Colleges of the RAF, British Army and Royal would eventually amalgamate to form the Joint Services Command and Staff College, originally located on the site of the RAF Staff College at Bracknell.
Dr Ross Mahoney is an independent scholar specialising in the history of war, with a particular focus on the use of air power and the history of air warfare. He is the Editor-in-Chief of From Balloons to Drones and currently the Senior Historian within the Heritage Policy team at Brisbane City Council in Australia. He has nearly 20 years of experience in the education, museum and heritage sectors in Australia and the United Kingdom, including serving as the inaugural Historian at the Royal Air Force Museum between 2013 and 2017. His other research interests are military leadership and command, military culture, and the history and development of professional military education. He also maintains an interest in transport history. He has published numerous articles, chapters and encyclopedia entries, edited two books, and delivered papers on three continents. His website is here.
Header image: Flying Officer C.L. Collings, Officer in charge of the Desert Air Force’s Anti-Malaria Control Unit, lectures to pilots and ground crew of No. 152 Squadron RAF on defence tactics against the disease, in front of one of the Squadron’s Supermarine Spitfire Mark VCs at Lentini East, Sicily, c. 1943. (Source: IWM (CNA 1235))
[1] Squadron Leader D.J. Read, The Royal Air Force Staff College at Haifa, 1942-46 (Bracknell: RAF Staff College, 1972), p. 1.
[3] ‘Annex C – Middle East Staff School – Joining Instructions for RAF Officers, 2 April 1943’ in Ibid., p. C-1; ‘Annex D – Middle East Air Order No. 1261 – Formation of RAF Staff College (Overseas), 30 September 1944’ in Ibid., p. D-1.
Editorial note: In 1976, Joseph Frantz, the pilot of the aeroplane credited with the first aerial victory in history, was interviewed by the Service Historique de l’Armėe de l’Air (French Air Force Historical Service) about his experience. This article was published in Vortex 8, the professional journal of the French Air and Space Force. It has been reproduced here by permission. From Balloons to Drones would like to thank Jean-Christophe Noel, the Editor-in-Chief of Vortex, for permission to make this interview available to a wider audience. We are also grateful to the Service Historique de Défense (Defence Historical Service) for their agreement to make this interview available. The article has been reproduced verbatim from the original.
On 14th December 1976, Joseph Frantz, then aged 86, was invited to testify about his aeronautical career at the Air Force Historical Service (SHAA). This aviation pioneer, who, with his mechanic Louis Quenault, achieved the first officially recognised aerial victory in history aboard the Voisin V 82,[1] spoke for 2 hours and 50 minutes. He successively recounted his aviation calling, the early days of aviation, his piloting career at Robert Savary’s aviation school in Chartres, his military service, his participation in the First World War as a combat pilot and a test pilot, and his role in the Les Vieilles Tiges association.
Naturally, his narration of the famous aerial combat on 5th October 1914 was the highlight of this testimony. For this issue of Vortex, the initial intention was to transcribe only J. Frantz’s remarks concerning this combat, which ushered nascent aviation into a new, simultaneously glorious and tragic, era. After all, on that autumn day in 1914, J. Frantz became the first fighter pilot in history and undoubtedly deserved the honours of an issue dedicated to air defence.
However, as J. Frantz described the adventures in which he had participated and evoked the atmosphere prevalent in aeronautical circles at the beginning of the 20th century, something became clear. J. Frantz deserved far more than simply being “reduced” once again to what he had accomplished on the morning of 5th October 1914. His aeronautical experience also needed to be recounted. This humble, modest man had set aeronautical records in the 1910s. Yet, he had also witnessed many of his friends and fellow pilots die brutally, victims of a still poorly understood science of flight, unreliable aircraft, or German bullets. As if to apologise for not having perished cruelly like all his friends, he simply stated that he “had been lucky.”
For this reason, the account of this combat is enhanced by the evocation of J. Frantz’s military career. Through the interviewee’s eyes, the reader will better grasp the fragility of military aviation’s developments, the initial initiatives to prepare for combat against German aircraft, the emergence of the now common choreography of dogfights, and the first attempts at night-time hunting.
To conclude this introduction, it is important to specify that the text presented here is not an exact transcription of J. Frantz’s testimony. To enhance readability, fluidity, and enjoyment, the editor chose to rephrase questions and, at times, slightly rewrite the form of the answers. Naturally, all reported events, facts, and details are rigorously respected. Furthermore, the testimony gathered in December 1976 at the SHAA is somewhat complemented by another that Frantz recorded several years prior, on 22nd May 1945,[2] which provides some additional details. These contributions have been underlined within the main text to indicate their origin.
Sincere thanks are extended to the Oral Testimonies Department of the Defence Historical Service, which kindly provided this document and authorised its publication. Particular gratitude is expressed to Messrs. B. Fonck, F. Beauperin, O. Valat, and Captain J. Sencert. Without their assistance and goodwill, this project could not have been realised.
Excerpt from interview no. 57 of Mr. Joseph Frantz, conducted on 14th December 1976 in Paris by Mrs. Destouches and Mr. Wallon
Mr. Frantz, you obtained your military pilot’s licence in 1912. Can you tell us what that examination involved?
When I took my military examination, I was still a civilian. I hadn’t yet started my military service, as I had obtained a one-year deferment. It was my employer, Robert Savary, who asked me to take it, precisely so I could participate in the military competition. I hadn’t really focused on it myself.
I was fortunate to have reliable equipment because the test required completing a one-hundred-kilometre course three times, on three different days but within a period of less than a month.
I recall flying from Chartres to Orléans and back. A controller was present at a designated point in Orléans. It was simply a matter of flying past it and making sure they saw you clearly, without flying too high. We would fly over the location at 100 or 150 metres. I was lucky to have good weather and, more importantly, a Labor engine that worked well. Finally, the fixed tail surfaces allowed me to use the ailerons without the tail turning. I was also fortunate to complete these three courses on three consecutive days, thanks to an engine that ran perfectly throughout, which was quite rare at that time.
Was the civil examination easier?
Yes, the Aero-Club civil licence exam was indeed easier to complete because you could choose your day, and it only lasted one day. Furthermore, the tests were completed in less than fifteen minutes. Later on, things got more complicated.
Did you think much about war at that time?
No, we didn’t think much about it. I did ponder it a little during my training in Verdun. The barracks were modern at the time; they had been built, I don’t know, three or four years earlier. And there were showers, which was rare. A chief warrant officer in the company ran everything. He always stayed beside me during the test marches. We would cover 25 kilometres in a day with our backpacks. He would tell me, “Ah, you’re not used to walking; you’re in the air, it’s hard for you!” We would chat like that, and it made the time pass. I stayed for four weeks while the classes were going on.
Were you the only aviator?
There were three of us who had our military licences before joining the regiment. There was Michel Mahieu, who was killed almost at the end of the war in a Voisin by a shell, probably during a night flight at that moment.[3] And then Jean Benoist, whom I replaced as a test pilot at Voisin after he was killed.
You were transferred to the engineering corps and distinguished yourself during the large-scale manoeuvres in the southwest, at Toulouse, on a Breguet aircraft.
Indeed, I had a dual satisfaction. Firstly, without intending to, I accumulated the most reconnaissance flight hours in the squadron. We had five or six aircraft, and I believe I accrued about 8 hours and 50 minutes of flight time – something like that. This seems laughable now, but at the time, flights lasted half an hour, an hour maximum.
Secondly, I was the only one to bring my aircraft back intact. Following these reconnaissance missions, Captain Le Goÿs, who later became the famous general,[4] promoted me to corporal on the manoeuvre field in front of the troops.
You were then assigned to Bourges to test the launching of pyrotechnic devices. Did an acquaintance of yours join you there?
Yes, I always managed, easily I must say, to have my mechanic join me within a fortnight of my arrival at a new posting. I would make the request, and the officers I was leaving handled the procedures very well.
Louis Quenault, to whom I refer, was two years my junior. He had been hired by Savary to develop the Labor engines from Labor-Aviation. The company hoped to receive many orders, but that didn’t really happen.
Nevertheless, we were good clients at Savary. I had come to appreciate Quenault at that time, and I didn’t lose sight of him when he went to the regiment. After completing his training, he became my full-time mechanic. These mechanics were, for the vast majority, extremely dedicated and conscientious individuals. It was their aeroplane; it wasn’t the pilot’s aeroplane, it was theirs.
The Voisin III’s water-cooled Salmson radial engine. (Source: Wikimedia)
How did the tests proceed?
I had some bad days and some good ones; one remembers the good ones. I was therefore seconded to the Central Pyrotechnics School in Bourges. This was a strip of land located next to the explosives and bomb factory, which produced incendiary bombs before the war, in particular. I was very fortunate one day. I was flying with my mechanic, and we were launching incendiary shells overboard, one after another. Quenault would pull a rough cord that ignited the shell, and it would explode a few seconds later. However, there were many cables in the Savary aircraft I was piloting, especially in the landing gear, which was quite sturdy. This was true of all biplanes of that era. That day, one of the shells got caught on one of the landing gear cables, and despite my efforts – I was scared because I jostled the aircraft trying to dislodge it – it didn’t fall. Fortunately, at that time, at least two or three out of ten shells would not ignite and therefore did not function. The shell belonged to this category. Fortunately for us, as it was near the landing gear and other phosphorus shells!
Following this event, the colonel nominated me for the Military Medal.
You also mentioned less good days?
Towards the end, there were two pilots conducting the tests. Lieutenant Delvert arrived with a Henri Farman aircraft. Even though I was a corporal, we shared a rapport as pilots, and rank distinctions were secondary.
He would always depart with a captain from the pyrotechnics unit, a friend of his, to launch the shells. Powered by a 50-horsepower Gnome engine, he would fly straight and level and then playfully perform a small “chandelle,” pulling back on the stick when he had some speed, ascending to 10 metres – 15 metres maximum. At the time, there wasn’t the power of current jet aircraft that can ascend vertically to 2,000 metres in a few seconds.
I had told him, “You know, Lieutenant, that’s dangerous because if you experience an engine cut, you risk losing speed, and that’s very serious.” He replied that it was not. He seemed very confident; he was very polite and even thanked me for my advice, but it was to no avail.
One day, he was eagerly awaiting his captain. He said to me, “Frantz, I’ve never taken you up, I’ll take you with me if you like.” I replied, “Of course, Lieutenant,” out of politeness, but I wasn’t particularly keen.
In the Bessonneau hangar, I was putting on my fur-lined flight suit. We were exposed to the open air during flight, especially in the Farman. It was worse than in the Savary, where the engine was at the rear, and this suit was essential.
I remember, I can still visualise the hangar. I put my right leg into the suit. The captain arrived: “Oh, excuse me, I’m late. If you don’t mind, may I take your place?” I said “Yes.” I don’t know why, but I had a premonition, and deep down, I was very relieved by this turn of events. I took off my suit, well, I took my right leg out, they departed… and they died. They performed a chandelle, and what I had anticipated occurred; they lost speed and both perished.[5]
The colonel commanding the Central Pyrotechnics School told me, “I am going to abandon pyrotechnics, aircraft are too dangerous, and we will conduct our tests with a captive balloon for projectile launches.” He was profoundly affected by this accident.
After these tests ceased, you were transferred to Mourmelon. Was that when you learned about the outbreak of war?
I was a corporal and was promoted to sergeant at the beginning of the war. I was mobilised on a Caudron G.3. I already knew the G.3; I had spent time in Reims flying one of them. It was a very good aircraft, but it was not a warplane. As André Luguet, a very good friend and one of our vice-presidents at Les Vieilles Tiges, told me, you had to try hard to kill yourself in a G.3. It was a very safe aircraft, but it was not a warplane.
However, at Mourmelon, there was a squadron of military Voisin aircraft, Squadron 24, and its commander, Captain Faure, told me that there were only six pilots, including himself, and that one of them was going to Voisin to receive aircraft. He asked, “I’m short a pilot; would you be interested?” I replied, “Oh yes, Captain, a Voisin—now that’s an aeroplane.” He said, “Agreed, I’ll take you.” That is how I ended up with Voisin. It was a squadron whose aircraft were destined for Russia; they were models with a long range for the time. We carried out reconnaissance missions of 300 to 400 kilometres. It was the only aircraft that could do that, with its framework made of metal tubes that could remain in the rain without deforming and usually did not require the use of a hangar. It was, without question, the best military aeroplane of the era.
Do you remember your first wartime missions?
Initially, we went to Belgium. I conducted a reconnaissance mission with a staff officer. We took mechanics for transfers, but for these missions, staff officers often came along. He was a junior officer, and it was his first flight. The reconnaissance was near the Luxembourg border.
We then observed many troops and convoys, and also trains, heading towards Belgium. However, there were conventions in place. Belgium was, in principle, neutral. After landing back at Mézières, where our first military airfield was located, the captain asked me, “Would you like to come with me while I make my verbal report?” As we had taken notes together, my presence could support what he said. Looking at the ground, I had also noticed many movements towards Belgium.
When we reported this to the commandant to whom we were to make the report, he told us, “That’s impossible; it’s forbidden.” One shouldn’t be too harsh, but it demonstrated our good faith (laughs).
Did you have special equipment for these reconnaissance missions?
We would send two homing pigeons for the initial reconnaissance. We also carried a Model 72 pistol—or perhaps it was a 76, a large, very heavy revolver—and a box of “Tisons” brand matches. The pistol was for puncturing the fuel tank in the event of a forced landing, which occurred quite often due to engine failure or similar issues behind enemy lines. The matches ignited and burned very fiercely for a few seconds. We were supposed to throw them into the punctured and holed fuel tank to set the aircraft ablaze and prevent it from falling into enemy hands.
Had you thought about the best way to shoot down an enemy plane?
We didn’t know how to do it. We had discussed it with friends in the squadron. I had discussed it with Quenault because he was the one doing the shooting. In fact, we were shooting too far. It’s difficult in the air to gauge distance. We would fire across the target and take a few shots. We couldn’t fire in automatic mode because the mechanism of the Hotchkiss machine gun jammed very quickly, especially at altitudes above 1,000 metres. It had even jammed on the first shot for me; that’s why we fired shot by shot.
We would press the trigger each time and then release it. In automatic mode, I believe the problem came from the ejection of the Hotchkiss casings, which is still a light infantry machine gun. The ejection was automatic, triggered by the explosion of the bullet itself, but the air pressure was slightly less strong than on the ground. This expulsion also caused us problems, as the propeller was behind us, and a semi-rigid bag was needed to catch the casing.
At what speed were you flying?
At 90-95 km/h in regular flight. When diving, we probably reached 115-120 km/h. We didn’t have a speed indicator, but during my acceptance tests, I was doing 90-95 km/h. So, if we fired while crossing paths, we had little chance of hitting each other.
How did you evaluate German aircraft?
In my opinion, the Taube was a very slow aircraft, an Austrian aircraft incidentally, but it was used in the German army. It was not a dangerous aircraft at all. But the other aircraft were more modern with a powerful engine at the front – a six-cylinder Mercedes-Benz engine. They were a little faster than our Voisin, a little more modern too, but did not have our range.
How did aerial combat begin?
The Germans initiated it, under the following circumstances. Lieutenant Levassor d’Yerville was a chasseur d’Afrique, a very bold and excellent individual. He had a slightly tilted head from a saber blow to the neck. He was remarkable and, incidentally, had a very distinguished career.
He had departed from Mézières on a solo reconnaissance mission to Aachen in his Voisin. Levassor then encountered a German aircraft. At that time, aviators considered themselves more as sportsmen than as belligerents or enemies. He expected to salute the German pilot, but as they passed, the passenger in the German aircraft fired three bullets that lodged in Levassor’s aeroplane.
I always found it extraordinary, incidentally, to encounter an aircraft and manage to shoot at it. That represents a closing speed of 200 km/h from each side. It’s not like being at a shooting range; there’s wind.
For the Germans, it was even more difficult than for us on the Voisin. On the Aviatik, the engine is at the front of the aircraft, whereas it’s at the rear for the French aeroplane. The passenger was positioned between the engine and the pilot for a very simple reason: the passenger’s weight was placed close to the centre of gravity, if you will. If the passenger climbs on board, the aircraft’s balance or trim was not altered. Trim was important at the time; it’s less true now, where one sees passengers moving about in the aisles of transport aircraft.
To return to Levassor, three bullets struck his aeroplane, one of which passed through the cushion he was sitting on. It was a small cushion, yet not thick.
How did you decide to react?
When he returned and showed the impact, the squadron leader telephoned Gabriel Voisin in Issy-les-Moulineaux, telling him, “This is what happened; we must find a solution.” Voisin replied that he would mount machine guns and prepare everything with all the necessary templates.
Three or four days later, Voisin arrived in Mézières with six machine guns to install on our six aircraft, along with one or two mechanics to assist. The plan was to install a tripod above the pilot’s head, with the machine gun for the passenger in the rear to operate.
That’s how the idea came to us. But it wasn’t easy to implement, because the colonel commanding the 5th Army’s aviation – we were, I believe, already the 5th Army – learned about it. He telephoned Captain Faure and said, “What is this? You’ve mounted machine guns? Don’t you know we’ll never fight in the air? It doesn’t exist. It’s Jules Verne, honestly!”
Captain Faure then responded, “My squadron is for reconnaissance. If these reconnaissance missions aren’t carried out, you can object, but I will make the modifications I see fit.”
The colonel placed him under close arrest!
Eventually, a general managed to reconcile the two opposing viewpoints. He agreed that if it did not interfere with reconnaissance missions, the weapons could remain on the aircraft.
Fortunately, on the German side, it was the same situation. They did not believe in aerial warfare; they thought we would never shoot each other down in the air. A few days before my victorious combat, a command note for aviation had been circulated among German squadrons asserting that such combats would never occur. We had heard that some French pilots enjoyed shooting at German aviators, but that it was of little importance. They would not hit them, and consequently, they were forbidden to engage us in combat.
On our side, we had arrived at the simplest conclusion: one must shoot at a target that is, at least for a while, immobile. And for it to be immobile, one must get behind it. The entire difficulty lay in getting behind it. The Aviatik was four or five km/h faster than the Voisin, but there are ways to work with the sky, so to speak! The key was to spot them early enough.
A Voisin III showing the observer’s weapon mounted above the pilot. This is the type of aeroplane flown by Frantz in 1914. (Source: Wikimedia)
Could you describe your experience of achieving this first aerial victory?
Quenault and I had set out, carrying six 90mm shells to drop on enemy troop concentrations. These were difficult to spot at 1,200, 1,500, or 2,000 metres, especially as we had no binoculars.
I was gaining altitude, following the lines between Reims and Craonne, when at approximately 1,800 metres, I saw an aircraft inside French lines heading north. I had, and still do have, despite being 86, quite good eyesight. It was to my left. Focusing intently, I realised it was a German aircraft. It was returning from its reconnaissance mission. At that moment, I was perpendicular to it, slightly ahead and at the same altitude. I alerted Quenault. The first thing I did then was to try and cut off its path by turning sharply to the right. This is where a significant element of luck came into play, as one shouldn’t initiate too early. I was slightly above it, which also helped; it allowed me to dive more or less to catch up before it gained too much distance. This was something I hadn’t managed to do until then. This time, however, I tried to get into a position where I could slow down if needed. It’s always easier to slow down. I arrived precisely where I wanted by diving slightly towards it. I then only had to turn right, position myself in its wake, and it was perfect; everything was in place.
At that point, I was very close. This is the approach that was also used by Fonck, by Navarre, all the great Aces who returned with very few bullets in their aircraft, or none at all if one considers Fonck. As for the sun’s position, I think I might have been well-placed. It was 8:00/8:30 AM; yes, I didn’t realise it. In any case, it was very clear, a cloudless sky. I’m not certain they saw me.
I shouted to my machine gunner to fire. We were so close then that I could clearly distinguish the pilot and the observer. They saw me at the first shot; I saw them turn their heads; I was close. I saw the pilot turn his head back with a surprised look. He was behind. He dipped slightly to gain speed. I followed him like a shadow.
The passenger pulled out a carbine and fired. He had a shoulder-fired carbine, whereas we could aim more easily thanks to the tripod. The German aircraft tried to make right and left turns to break free. The passenger found it difficult to shoot because, as I told you, he was positioned between the pilot and the engine. The pilot, the tail assembly, and the rest formed obstacles, provided I positioned myself exactly in line. We had 25 rounds in the rigid part that held the cartridges. On the 25th, Quenault changed the Hotchkiss belt. The combat was quite long. We fired shot by shot. Quenault fired 47 rounds, which took 10-12 minutes, and by chance, we only jammed on the 47th round. I thought to myself, “We’re screwed again.” Maybe the staff officer is right; we’ll never shoot each other down in the air.
The German pilot was still turning from right to left. He was trying to regain his lines by descending. He descended because we eventually found ourselves at 1,200 metres. And all of a sudden, it pitched up. And, like an aircraft about to perform acrobatics, it remained suspended in the air. Quenault then tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Careful, we’re going to hit it.” We were very close, but when I saw it pitch up, it was slightly to the left. I gave a kick and had already initiated the right turn to avoid colliding with it. It’s true that it would have been too foolish, but in the heat of the moment, one doesn’t think about the danger one might be in.
At that moment, I saw it like an aircraft losing speed. It flipped onto its back, in straight flight, leaving a trail of smoke. It probably had a punctured fuel tank and fuel streaming into the engine. I immediately thought, “I hope they’re both dead… especially the passenger.”
I eventually landed 300 metres from the aircraft wreckage. It had fallen into wooded marshes. I set down in a field a few hundred metres from where our victims were still burning. The marshes were indeed surrounded by suitable landing grounds, fields where there had probably been wheat, and where there was no danger of damage, especially for the Voisin, which had four wheels and wheel brakes. Once again, the aircraft was very advanced for its time.
We went to see. Some farmers were already there. It was at Jonchery-sur-Vesle, 20 km from the trenches. Some women also came and gave me a bouquet of wild flowers they had picked. It was very touching. Then officers from a nearby staff arrived. Among them was a general, General Franchet d’Espèrey; but I did not know him, I do not know if it was him. In short, it was a general with his staff who then said to me: “Are you the pilot?” I replied: “Yes, General.” He continued: “You will receive the Military Medal.” I told him verbatim: “I already have it, General” (laughs). Surprised, he then said: “Oh, well, you will receive the Legion of Honour, and your mechanic-gunner will receive the Military Medal.”
A pheasant was brought to me; it ended up in the kitchen. Back at the unit, they were starting to get worried. When I returned, they had already begun eating. In that squadron, our pay differed according to rank, and the captain had instituted that at the mess, one paid their share pro rata to what they earned. Jean Benoist and I were sergeants. We were the only two sergeants, having been promoted shortly after our arrival.
Captain Faure drove us back in the afternoon. There, we saw the bodies of our victims, whose legs were charred, having been removed from the aircraft. I will not hide from you today that Quenault and I were very moved at the sight of the two victims we had brought down.
A letter was found on the body of one of the victims. One of the deceased addressed it to his mother, stating that he had escaped a French aircraft in September by entering a large cloud. A strange coincidence: a few weeks earlier, we had pursued an aircraft that had escaped us in precisely that manner…
Just thinking about that combat, I think of the men who were in it. After all, it was war… But I never speak of that engagement without great emotion.
The Legion of Honour seemed like a lot for an “exploit” that was, all things considered, normal. If one had a rifle on board, it was surely to use it. It seemed improbable, far too significant, to be awarded such a commendation.
Did you quickly participate in other aerial combats?
Two or three days later, we were slightly southwest of Reims. The Germans still held the north of the city. I saw an aircraft on the other side of the lines. I climbed, and it climbed too. At about 1,500 metres altitude, we headed towards each other. Confident from my recent exploits, I thought success was assured, but then, with the first shot, the machine gun jammed.
Facing us was the same type of Aviatik. The tactic of getting behind the hunted aircraft was known to him as well as to me. To do this, one had to turn as tightly as possible. What I had to do was turn, since Quenault was already trying to clear the jammed machine gun. For once, it wasn’t working, and the adversary fired at us each time we crossed paths. It was very difficult, and he fired two or three bullets per pass. As soon as he had passed, I would turn to get behind him, and he would do the same, and ultimately, neither of us succeeded.
He gave up, or perhaps his gun was also jammed. He descended and headed back towards his lines. This occurred over French lines, just near the trenches.
The most amusing part is that the squadron commander received a phone call from an army colonel or general. He said, “We witnessed the combat. Congratulate the pilot who didn’t stop firing.” On the ground, they heard the gunshots; they believed it was our crew firing. In fact, it was not at all. I told the captain I hadn’t mentioned it because I was playing the fool.
I almost could have received a citation!
Were citations numerous?
Some were occasionally questionable. Once, I incidentally read in a newspaper at the front that the passenger, a captain I had taken up, had received a citation of the type: “successfully brought back to his lines an aircraft damaged by enemy shells.”
That corresponded somewhat to the reconnaissance we had carried out. I had returned with difficulty with a broken propeller. The rear engine was quite reliable, but large pushrods extended from it. One of these rods had gone into the propeller. I immediately reduced the throttle to try to regain the French lines, which I managed to do.
The captain then told me that the damage was due to a shell. I replied no. Besides, we would see immediately. A pushrod was missing, which had broken the wooden propeller, and that was that. He had made his report nonetheless. I did not find that very elegant, but I said nothing. You know, I was young; I attached no importance to it.
Is your subsequent operational career notably associated with the cannon-armed aircraft?
Yes, the idea was to place a small cannon on the aircraft to fire at and bring down the Drachen[6] observation balloons. The problem was that when we hit them, they didn’t catch fire. Incendiary shells of 37mm didn’t exist; they hadn’t been invented yet.
To ignite the balloon, a flame is required. However, this flame must not be inside the balloon, as hydrogen does not burn internally. An incendiary shell is needed that maintains a flame trace long enough to ignite the mixture.
Initially, the Germans would pull the balloon down to prevent it from being shot down. Later, when they saw that we were only making small holes, the bolder observers no longer requested to descend.
Later, when I was in Nancy, the Germans feared these cannon-armed aircraft despite everything. These cannons extended from the fuselage by at least 60 or 80 cm. This is why some pilots bought fake stovepipes from hardware stores, hoping to deter attacks from the Germans who feared them.
Did you have a mishap at night in this type of aircraft?
First, allow me to provide an example of aircraft development at that time, which was very empirical.
The cannon was heavy; it was a long 37mm cannon. I don’t recall its exact weight, but it was 100 kilograms or more.
I found that the aircraft was unbalanced, too nose-heavy despite its very effective, very large control surfaces.
I mentioned this to Voisin. I telephoned him, and as he was down in Issy-les-Moulineaux, he immediately came up to Villacoublay. He made swift decisions and decided to move forward and offset the upper wing. After using his slide rule, he said, “I believe 10 cm should be sufficient. It needs to be done tonight so you can conduct a test flight tomorrow morning.” I was more than willing.
He brought a team with him, known as the “Aces of the Workshop,” about ten mechanics and carpenters, and by three in the morning, it was done! I tested the aircraft; it was just a matter of cutting piano wires, lengthening them on one side and shortening them on the other. As the ribs were threaded onto spars, the frame was supported by 30mm drawn steel tubes, as I recall. It didn’t pose significant difficulties.
So, to return to that night flight, I went to the entrenched camp at Le Bourget, where I received my first military punishment. One evening, a Zeppelin was reported near Compiègne. Always confident and proud of my previous exploit, I decided to investigate: “A Zeppelin, let’s go!” I told my mechanic, “We’ll give it some cannon shots in the gondola.” And off we went. We made a wide circuit, and there was no Zeppelin to be found, “no more than butter on a spit,” as the expression goes. In fact, at the beginning of the war, everyone saw aircraft and Zeppelins everywhere, especially those who weren’t in aviation! When I returned to the airfield, landing was impossible due to fog. So we landed at Villacoublay. However, I was expected for duty at six in the morning at Le Bourget…
The punishment came down. It was four days of confinement for having “departed without waiting for orders”! Never mind!
Header image: A Voisin II on display at the Musée de l’Air et de l’Espace, Le Bourget, France. (Source: Wikimedia)
[1] This first aerial victory was not the first duel between airmen. There had been many exchanges of fire since the beginning of the war. Air war historians list several dates in August and September 1914 when original feats were accomplished. On 10 August 1914, near Cernay (Haut-Rhin), Corporal Thoret of BL 10 (Bleriot XI-2) fired a revolver at an Aviatik B. On 25 August 1914, Second Lieutenant Harvey-Kelly and Lieutenant Mansfield of No. 2 Squadron RAF threatened a Taube in the air with their Royal Aircraft Factory B.E.2. The German aircraft eventually landed. It was destroyed on the ground by the British crew who had landed nearby. On 1 September 1914, Lieutenant Moris of the MF8 destroyed a Drachen. Finally, on 7 September, Chtabs-Kapitan Nesterov, of the 11th detachment of the Russian Corps, used his Morane-Saulnier Type G to board an Austrian Albatros B.II. Both aircraft crashed and the Russian pilot died the next day as a result of his injuries. See in particular C. Cuny, “1914: la France invente le combat aérien”, Avions, n°200, July-August 2014, pp. 6-25.
[2] R. Saladin, “L’histoire des temps héroïques de l’aviation”, Archives INA, 22 May 1945
[3] Commander of the VP 114 squadron since 26 February 1917, he and his gunner, Lieutenant Rivalleau, were shot down in the German lines to the north-west of Ham (80) during the night of 2 to 3 May 1918 in their Voisin no. 5597
[4] General Louis de Goÿs de Mézeyrac was the precursor of bombing aviation in France. A battalion commander in 1914, he was tasked by General Joffre with organising bombing aviation. Hit during a raid over the Palatinate in May 1915, he was taken prisoner but escaped at the end of 1917. He returned to combat and commanded the first bombing brigade in 1918. He distinguished himself in the 1920s by opening air routes.
[5] The two victims were Lieutenant Jean Louis Delvert of the 21st Artillery and Captain Gaston Niquet of the 1st Artillery, both temporarily seconded to the Aéronautique Militaire. Lieutenant Delvert had replaced Lieutenant Jean Kreyder in May 1913, after the latter’s death during a flight.
2026 marks the 10th Anniversary of the establishment of From Balloons to Drones. To mark this anniversary, From Balloons to Drones plans to publish a series of articles examining the state of air power studies.
In 2017, From Balloons to Drones published an article that asked the question ‘Wither Air Power Studies?.’ More recently, in a 2024 article on ‘Some Problems with Airpower History,’ Professor John Ferris reflected on the field of air power history, noting that ‘[d]espite its problems, airpower history is in the best state it has known. Just a few steps would bring it to the quality of naval history.’[1] Those steps are to recognise the problems associated with the field, embrace the comparative and transnational nature of airpower history, and welcome new voices to the field. These steps can be applied to a broader field of air power studies, not just air power history.
To mark the 10th Anniversary of the scholarly webzine, From Balloons to Drones is seeking submissions on the state of air power studies. Articles might, for example, explore the development of a subfield of air power studies (e.g., history, law, ethics) or its place in academia. Possible themes to be explored might include, but are not limited to:
History | Role in Professional Military Education | Place in Armed Forces
Place in Academia | Ethical and Moral Issues
National Experiences | International Experiences | Transnational Experiences
Personal Experiences | Memory and Memorialisation
We are looking for articles between 500 and 4,000 words, but we will accept longer pieces and reserve the right to publish them in parts. Please visit our submissions page for more information on the types of articles published by From Balloons to Drones.
We plan to begin running the series in early 2026, and it will continue for as long as we receive potential contributions. We welcome and encourage submissions from academics, policymakers, service personnel, and relevant professionals.
Submissions should be submitted in Word format and emailed to the email address below with ‘SUBMISSION – Wither Air Power Studies?’ in the subject line. Also, please include a 50-100-word biography with your submission. Footnotes are acceptable; please be careful to explain any jargon. If you are unsure if your idea fits our requirements, please email us with ‘POTENTIAL SUBMISSION – Wither Air Power Studies?’ in the subject line to discuss.
Header image: A Republic P-47D Thunderbolt on display at the American Air Museum at the Imperial War Museum at Duxford, UK. (Author’s Personal Collection)
[1] John Ferris, ‘Some Problems with Airpower History,’ Journal of Military and Strategic Studies 23, no. 1 (2024), p. 31.
By Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Jackson, PhD, USAF, and Major (ret) Wael al-Taki, LAF
2 August 2014: Hundreds of Islamic State and al-Nusra Front militants stormed Lebanese Army positions in the Bekaa Valley, fifty miles east-northeast of Beirut. Under relentless fire, Lebanese troops conducted a fighting withdrawal, calling frantically for reinforcements. Amid the chaos, the militants captured 36 soldiers, brutally executing at least four.
High overhead, 1st Lieutenant Wael al-Taki peered through the infrared camera on a Cessna 208B Grand Caravan – the same single-engine turboprop used by FedEx for rural package delivery. The Lebanese Air Force operated two such aircraft, both modified with surveillance gear. Only one, however, could carry a pair of AGM-114 Hellfire missiles – the same laser-guided missiles used by Apache attack helicopters and Predator and Reaper drones.
The Cessna required a crew of three: two pilots and a mission systems operator (MSO). Yet shortages of trained personnel forced al-Taki to act as both pilot and MSO, moving to the back of the aircraft after take-off to operate the mission systems while Lieutenant C.Y. took the controls.[1] A brigadier general from the operations staff took the other pilot’s seat, relaying strike approvals from the operations centre in Beirut.
Below, the militants surrounded a company of Lebanese troops, their withering fire wounding several soldiers, including the deputy commander. The Cessna banked toward the firefight. Al-Taki gripped the hand controller, aligning the crosshairs with the enemy fighters. He fired the laser designator. He had never fired a laser-guided missile before. In fact, no one in the Lebanese Air Force had ever fired one in combat. “I was just thinking of the guys down there, that someone should save them,” he later recounted. He stole a quick glance out the window as C.Y. jammed his thumb down on the firing button. With a flash, the Hellfire streaked off the launch rail – and into history.[2]
Lieutenant al-Taki’s Hellfire was the opening shot in Lebanon’s three-year air campaign against the Islamic State, culminating in Operation Fajr al-Jaroud, or ‘Dawn of the Hills,’ in August 2017. During that same period, Operation Inherent Resolve, the US-led coalition’s campaign in Iraq and Syria, hammered the Islamic State and other militant groups with over 24 thousand airstrikes from hundreds of the world’s most advanced warplanes, including fourth- and fifth-generation fighters, unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), and stealth bombers.[3] The Lebanese air campaign was exceedingly modest by comparison, yet it successfully rolled back the Islamic State’s western flank. Ultimately, Fajr al-Jaroud continued a pattern established over the previous two decades: modest US security assistance, combined with the ingenuity of Lebanese aviators, enabled the Lebanese Air Force to prevail under challenging battles against violent extremist groups.
A Bell UH-1H Huey II from the 11th Squadron participates in an exercise on the Hannoush Range. (Source: Author)
Rebuilding the Lebanese Air Force
Founded in 1949, the Lebanese Air Force once operated modern jet aircraft, including the de Havilland Vampire, Hawker Hunter, and Dassault Mirage III. American assistance began during the Cold War, with the US Military Assistance Program delivering six Hawker Hunters in 1963. However, a brutal sectarian civil war from 1975 to 1990 left the air force in ruins, forcing the reconciled government to rebuild it from scratch.[4]
Lebanon occupies strategic – and treacherous – terrain, wedged between Syria and Israel. Though the civil war ended in 1990, Syrian troops continued to occupy much of the country’s north until 2005. Israel invaded four times between 1978 and 2024, occupying southern Lebanon from 1982 to 2000.
The US had straightforward goals for supporting the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) after the civil war: building a non-sectarian national military would strengthen national cohesion and counter the influence of sectarian militias like Hezbollah. ‘The LAF is a key institution of Lebanese statehood,’ declared US Ambassador Elizabeth Richards in 2016. ‘It is Lebanon’s sole legitimate defense force and an essential element in exerting the state’s authority throughout all of Lebanon’s territory.’[5]
Between 1996 and 2001, Lebanon acquired 24 Bell UH-1H Huey helicopters from the US, most of which had been in storage since the end of the Vietnam War. Initially relying on pilots who had trained in the US in the 1980s, the Lebanese Air Force assigned 12 of the helicopters to the 11th Squadron at Beirut Air Base, eight to the 10th Squadron at Klayaat Air Base, 55 miles north-northeast of Beirut near the Syrian border, and four to the 14th Squadron at Rayak Air Base, in the Bekaa Valley, 30 miles east of Beirut. These simple utility helicopters became the backbone of the Lebanese Air Force – and its only combat aircraft – until 2007.[6]
The first battle for the rebuilt air force erupted on 31 December 2000, in the rural Dinniyeh region near Lebanon’s northern border with Syria. Approximately 150 militants from the al-Qaeda-aligned group Takfir wal-Hijra attacked a military checkpoint, killing four soldiers and capturing two. The LAF immediately launched an operation to rescue the captives and eliminate the militants.[7]
Brigadier General S.Y., then a major in the 11th Squadron, recalled first learning of the attack while at a New Year’s Eve party with his squadron in Beirut. The festivities had begun winding down at four o’clock in the morning when the commander of the air force suddenly burst in, his face pale. “Return to base immediately!” he ordered. The men thought he was joking—or drunk. Frustrated, he bellowed for them to obey his orders at once. “We learned the hard way that he meant business,” S.Y. said.[8]
Two hours later, the major lifted off from Beirut, leading four Hueys north along the Mediterranean coast to reinforce the 10th Squadron at Klayaat Air Base, closer to the scene of the action. Upon arrival, they found the base buzzing with activity: Two companies from Lebanon’s elite Ranger Regiment had already arrived, along with two mechanised infantry companies and an armoured platoon. The LAF planned to deploy the Rangers to assault the militants’ mountain stronghold, while the mechanised infantry and armour secured Klayaat.
The helicopter force split into an assault group of eight and a reserve group of two, the latter consisting of one aircraft for medical evacuation (MEDEVAC) and another equipped with two 7.62-millimetre door guns for armed reconnaissance. In the afternoon, two 14th Squadron Hueys arrived from Rayak to reinforce the reserve group.
At nine o’clock in the morning, with temperatures hovering just below freezing, the assault group launched for the target area. Situated 5,200 feet above sea level, the high-altitude landing zones limited each helicopter to carrying only seven Rangers with their heavy gear, instead of the usual eleven. “Navigation to the landing zones was the hardest part, as the air force still used primitive methods in those days,” recalled S.Y. “Our best navigational equipment were the terrain maps provided by the directorate of geographic affairs.”
The assault group split into two elements, each led by a 10th Squadron pilot familiar with the terrain. “We flew nap of the earth,” said S.Y., “using the deep valleys and low terrain features to remain hidden from enemy observation.” The first element landed to the south and southwest of the target, while the second landed to the north. The Hueys then returned to Klayaat for another load. In total, they lifted approximately 200 soldiers onto the battlefield. The rapid encirclement enabled by air power allowed the Rangers to crush the militants in just forty-eight hours. The Lebanese Army lost 11 soldiers killed in action, including one of the men taken captive during the initial checkpoint attack.[9]
The Lebanese Air Force Adapts
The Hueys played a significant role in the LAF’s next major battle a little over six years later. On 19 May 2007, four armed men from the Sunni militant group Fateh al-Islam robbed a bank in the town of Amyoun, thirty miles north-northeast of Beirut, making off with $125,000 in cash. Lebanese paramilitary police quickly identified the militants and tracked them to a house ten miles to the north in Tripoli. A firefight erupted, soon spreading to the nearby Nahr al-Bared Palestinian refugee camp, which served as Fateh al-Islam’s headquarters. Hundreds of militants stormed LAF military posts and checkpoints in the area, killing thirty-two soldiers, most of whom were asleep in their barracks. The LAF launched an all-out effort to secure Nahr al-Bared and neutralise the militants, leading to a nightmare scenario of urban combat amid the camp’s ramshackle buildings and narrow alleyways.[10]
The Lebanese Air Force initially restricted its support to MEDEVAC and overhead surveillance. However, just two months before the battle, Lebanon had acquired nine Aérospatiale SA.342L Gazelle light attack helicopters for the newly established 8th Squadron. Armed with 68-millimetre unguided rockets, HOT guided antitank missiles, and .50-calibre machine guns, the Gazelles provided Lebanese ground troops with close air support for the first time.
The urban assault bogged down around the militants’ final position, a veritable fortress of concrete rubble. The Gazelles’ light weapons proved ineffective. With casualties mounting, the Lebanese Air Force adapted by jury-rigging three of its Huey utility helicopters as bombers.
The Lebanese Air Force had a stockpile of 500- and 1,000-pound bombs left over from the 1960s. Mechanics cannibalised bomb shackles and pylons from scrapped Mirage fighter jets and attached them to a steering rod from a decommissioned navy ship. To evenly distribute the weight across the cabin floor, they mounted the rig on an armoured plate salvaged from an inoperative M-113 armoured personnel carrier. Each heli-bomber could carry a single 1,000-pound bomb slung between the landing skids or a 500-pound bomb on either side. Mechanics lengthened the landing skids to ensure sufficient ground clearance.
The heli-bombers went into action on 9 August 2007. Using civilian Garmin 295 handheld GPS units to pinpoint their release points, the crews dropped dozens of bombs, blasting a path for the ground troops. The innovative air support helped bring the battle to an end on 7 September.[11]
The siege of Nahr al-Bared proved a formative experience for the LAF, underscoring the need to modernise the air force with fixed-wing aircraft capable of providing intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), target designation, strike coordination, and close air support. This set of requirements roughly aligned with what the US Air Force (USAF) defined as light attack armed reconnaissance (LAAR). The US government offered to assist in this effort, eager to prevent Lebanon from becoming another active battlefront in the Global War on Terrorism.[12]
In 2009, the USAF provided Lebanon with a Cessna 208B Grand Caravan, funded through grant aid. Orbital ATK (later acquired by Northrop Grumman) reconfigured the Caravan as an AC-208 Eliminator, equipping it with a Wescam MX-15 electro-optical/infrared camera system, a microwave broadcast system for real-time video transmission, a weapons-grade laser designator, an infrared laser pointer, a flare dispenser, and launch rails to carry an AGM-114 Hellfire missile under each wing. A second aircraft arrived on 6 November 2013, configured solely for reconnaissance and lacking missile rails. A third aircraft, featuring a more powerful engine and a digital glass cockpit, arrived on 19 December 2016. The Cessnas were assigned to the 4th Squadron at Beirut Air Base.[13]
The Lebanese Air Force still had a handful of senior fixed-wing pilots who had flown Mirages and Hunters. However, without a fixed-wing pilot training program, it sent young lieutenants abroad to Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and the United States for flight training. Upon their return to Lebanon, they completed a short Cessna training course provided by Orbital ATK. According to US Ambassador Elizabeth Richard, these pilots built a solid reputation. “The LAF is recognized in the US for the quality of the officers and soldiers it sends to our training and education programs,” she said. “Lebanese students routinely finish at the top of their classes, earning ‘honor graduate’ recognition.”[14]
In addition to the grant aid, the US embassy facilitated $1.9 billion in foreign military sales (FMS) to Lebanon between 2014 and 2020, including the purchase of six RQ-11 Raven small, hand-launched UAVs and 1,000 Hellfire missiles – items paid for with Lebanon’s own funds.[15] The Lebanese Air Force also bolstered its rotary-wing fleet, acquiring 24 additional UH-1H Huey IIs from the US and nine Aérospatiale SA.330 Super Puma utility helicopters, license-built in Romania by Industria Aeronautica Romana. The Super Pumas were assigned to the 9th Squadron at Hamat Air Base, located 30 miles north of Beirut.[16]
An Aérospatiale/IAR SA.330 Super Puma modified as a heli-bomber completes a rocket pass on the Hannoush Range. (Source: Author)
The Long Campaign
These modest modernisation efforts took place as neighbouring Syria spiralled into chaos. Protests against dictator Bashar al-Assad escalated into civil war and eventually gave rise to the Islamic State. More than one million Syrian refugees poured across the border into Lebanon, with at least 137,000 settling in camps within the Baalbek-Hermel Governate, Lebanon’s northeastern-most region. The town of Arsal, perched above the Bekaa Valley on the slopes of the Qalamoun Mountains, had the highest concentration of Syrian refugees of any municipality in Lebanon, with 39,300 registered in four camps.[17] On 1 February 2013, a patrol from Strike Force, Lebanon’s elite counterterrorism regiment, came under attack while chasing a wanted terrorist near the outskirts of the town. The ambush killed Captain Pierre Bachaalani and 1st Sergeant Ibrahim Zahrman and wounded many others.[18]
The LAF found it increasingly challenging to operate near Arsal. Al-Nusra Front, al Qaeda’s Syrian affiliate, used the town as a base for smuggling men, weapons, and equipment into Syria. The group began expanding its reach into the Bekaa Valley through a relentless series of deadly suicide car bombings and mortar and rocket attacks. Meanwhile, the Islamic State took control of the mountainous region east of Ras Baalbek and al-Qaa.[19]
On 2 August 2014, al-Nusra Front launched an attack on the 8th Mechanized Infantry Brigade’s positions near Arsal. Over the next five days, roughly 700 militants from al-Nusra and the Islamic State joined the battle, resulting in the deaths of 19 soldiers, the wounding of 86, and the capture of 36. Special operations forces from the Ranger and Air Assault Regiments quickly deployed to reinforce the embattled Lebanese troops.[20]
Stationed 30 miles southeast at Rayak, the 8th Squadron launched its Gazelle attack helicopters to assist, relying on satellite imagery printed from Google Earth to orient themselves to the battlefield. The commander of the air wing at Rayak led the first mission, his helicopter armed with two .50-calibre machine guns. “When we arrived in the area, we did not know which military positions had fallen and the extent of the enemy’s penetration,” recalled his copilot, Captain M.B.[21]
Spotting a group of armed men, but unsure of their identity, the wing commander dove in for a closer look. Bullets from a Russian-built PK machine gun raked the helicopter. A round tore through the cockpit, destroying the collective lever and spearing through M.B.’s left hand. “I started bleeding, losing large amounts of blood,” he recounted. The wing commander took control of the helicopter and flew straight to the Dar al-Amal Hospital near Baalbek, where M.B. received emergency medical care. The wing commander then returned to Rayak, only to find that he could not shut down the engine. A bullet had damaged the fuel controls, forcing him to wait for the helicopter’s fuel tank to run dry before it finally shut down.[22]
Meanwhile, at Beirut Air Base, 1st Lieutenant C.Y., a Cessna pilot with the 4th Squadron, received an urgent call from base operations ordering him to prepare his aircraft and crew—himself as pilot, Lieutenant al-Taki as pilot and mission systems operator, and a brigadier general from the operations staff to coordinate with the operations center. “A few minutes later, we were ordered to take off, destined for the outskirts of Arsal,” he recalled. Lieutenant C.Y. was already well-acquainted with the area, having frequently surveilled it since the ambush on the Strike Force patrol the previous year. Yet amid the chaos of the mass attack, the fog of war had set in. “The attack on the military centers happened suddenly,” said C.Y. “We did not have all the information on the disposition of military forces, especially after several fell into the hands of the terrorists.”[23]
Establishing radio contact with the ground troops, C.Y. and his crew began scanning the battlefield through their camera, watching as militants overran one post after another. The defenders executed a fighting withdrawal, buying time until reinforcements could arrive. In the summer of 2014, the 4th Squadron had only two Cessna 208s, and the second aircraft had yet to be retrofitted to carry Hellfire missiles. That meant C.Y. and his crew were flying the only armed fixed-wing aircraft in the country. While the United States classified the AC-208 as an inexpensive armed tactical reconnaissance aircraft, for Lebanon, it was a strategic asset. It would take more than an hour to land, rearm, and return to the target area, so they had to carefully balance their ability to deliver aerial firepower with the need to maintain continuous ISR coverage. “Our plane was equipped with two Hellfire missiles,” said C.Y. “We were careful not to use them unless absolutely necessary.”[24]
That moment came when the militants encircled a company of Lebanese troops, wounding several with their relentless fire. “We saw through the surveillance camera a group of about ten armed men preparing to storm the center from the rear,” C.Y. recalled, “so we decided to intervene.” Watching the Cessna’s live video feed from the operations center, the LAF director of operations, along with the army and air force commanders, gave the green light for a strike. It would be the first precision airstrike in Lebanon’s history.
C.Y. recounted what happened next: “We turned toward the target and launched the first missile, which took fifty-eight seconds to reach its mark, striking with precision and inflicting heavy losses on the attacking force.” The militants retreated into a nearby house. Circling overhead, C.Y.’s crew waited for them to regroup before launching the second missile. “We deliberately waited for all the terrorists to enter the building before firing,” he explained. “The Hellfire missile is most effective in enclosed spaces – such as rooms, buildings, and fortifications – rather than open areas.”[25]
The missile streaked off the launch rail, and one minute and twenty seconds later, it slammed into the house. The cement walls collapsed, and the house erupted in flames, fuelled by secondary explosions from ammunition stored inside. No one emerged from the inferno. The airstrike reversed the tide of the battle, forcing the militants to withdraw from around the besieged company.[26]
The combat debut of the AC-208 in August 2014 marked the LAF’s first use of precision-guided munitions and the first real-time broadcast of battlefield surveillance video. Meanwhile, the Hueys and Super Pumas transported troops and flew MEDEVAC missions, while Raven UAVs and the Cessnas provided ISR, and Gazelles and the AC-208 delivered close air support. These efforts helped halt the militant advance, but the LAF could not yet push them back, and a three-year stalemate ensued. Of the 36 Lebanese soldiers captured in the battle, the militants executed four, released seven, and exchanged 16 for thirteen jailed militants in a prisoner swap. Nine remained unaccounted for, presumably still held by the Islamic State.[27]
According to Captain G.A., another Cessna pilot in the 4th Squadron, “Our squadron participated in continual military operations from 2014 to 2017. The unrelenting bombing over such a long period of time helped to exhaust and demoralize the militants, as well as to destroy their logistical capabilities and their command-and-control centers.” In addition to Hellfire strikes, the Cessna crews provided observation and adjustment for artillery fire. According to G.A., “The targets we attacked varied from command-and-control centers and logistical points […] to tunnels dug in the mountains […] bulldozers used in digging tunnels and fortifying fighting positions […] and on one occasion, we targeted an Army M-113 armored vehicle which the militants had captured.” While they typically struck preplanned targets, the crews also often searched for targets of opportunity.[28]
In the summer of 2016, the Lebanese Air Force launched its largest coordinated airstrike on militant positions – an operation they viewed as their own miniature version of Desert Storm’s high-tech ‘Instant Thunder’ air campaign. “The raid lasted for about forty minutes,” recalled Colonel A.M., who helped plan the operation. The Cessna fired the opening salvo, striking the first two of eight preplanned targets: an Islamic State field command headquarters and a house sheltering a high-value target. Both missiles hit with precision. “No one left the targeted buildings,” A.M. stated, “so we considered the casualties as confirmed.”[29]
Follow-on attacks targeted enemy infrastructure, including lodging, water tanks, ammunition dumps, and vehicle yards. To bolster the air force’s limited firepower, mechanics from the 9th Squadron modified a Super Puma into a heli-bomber – similar to the Huey bomber experiment nine years earlier. They rigged a pair of steel I-beams through the cabin and mounted bombs or rocket pods on either side, creating a makeshift but effective strike platform.[30]
After the initial Hellfire strikes, the Cessna used its infrared laser pointer to mark targets for the helicopters and served as a tactical air coordinator, sequencing their attacks. The Puma dropped two 250-kilogram bombs, followed by the Gazelles strafing militants fleeing the bombing with .50-calibre machine guns and 68-millimetre rockets. Once the helicopters cleared the area, the Cessna called in artillery fire to finish the job. Throughout the operation, the Cessna and Raven UAVs provided continuous surveillance of the target area.[31]
While the LAF managed to contain the Islamic State and al-Nusra incursions into the Bekaa Valley, military and political leaders collaborated with their American counterparts to secure new equipment and training for a decisive operation to expel them entirely. For the air force, this included six Embraer A-29B Super Tucano light attack aircraft, which would equip the newly formed 7th Squadron. The Lebanese Air Force identified twelve of its top pilots to train on the Super Tucano at Moody Air Force Base, Georgia, under the USAF’s 81st Fighter Squadron. The first group of pilots departed Lebanon in February 2017, with the first two A-29s scheduled for delivery in October and the remaining four the following June. USAF Special Operations Command also planned to deploy a team of combat aviation advisors to Lebanon in 2018.[32] Meanwhile, in January 2017, al-Nusra Front merged with four other militant groups to form Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), which dubiously claimed to have severed its ties with al-Qaeda.[33]
It remains a point of contention whether Lebanon’s ingrained political paralysis or a strategic decision to wait for new capabilities like the Super Tucanos delayed a decisive operation against the Islamic State. On 20 July 2017, the Iranian-backed Shia militia Hezbollah pre-empted the LAF by launching its own campaign to retake Arsal.[34]
For at least six years, Hezbollah had been deploying fighters to Syria as part of Iran’s efforts to bolster Bashar al-Assad’s dictatorial regime. A successful operation to expel HTS from Lebanon would not only serve Iran’s strategic interests but also undermine the LAF’s position as the nation’s principal security provider. From 21 to 24 July, Hezbollah seized more than 60 per cent of HTS-held territory, leading to a ceasefire on 27 July that allowed the remaining HTS fighters to withdraw into Syria. Hezbollah’s sophisticated propaganda apparatus flooded media channels with battlefield updates, maps, and footage highlighting combined arms operations involving infantry, artillery, and rockets. Press reports estimated that more than twenty Hezbollah fighters and 150 HTS militants were killed in the operation.[35]
The Lebanese government had no choice but to order an immediate offensive against the Islamic State positions north of Arsal – a far more challenging task given the rugged, defensible mountainous terrain – or risk appearing impotent compared to Hezbollah. The LAF assembled a frontline strength of 4,300 troops in the eastern Bekaa Valley, including the 6th Mechanized Infantry Brigade, the 1st Intervention Regiment, the Air Assault Regiment, one company from the 4th Intervention Regiment, and one company from the Moukafaha, a special operations unit under the Directorate of Military Intelligence. Another 4,250 personnel provided support, including elements of the 1st and 2nd Artillery Regiments with 36 155-millimetre howitzers.[36]
On 14 August 2017, the LAF initiated its opening manoeuvres, officially launching Operation Fajr al-Jaroud, or ‘Dawn of the Hills,’ on 19 August. That same day, Hezbollah and the Syrian Arab Army announced their own offensive on the Syrian side of the border, once again attempting to upstage the LAF. The simultaneous operations fuelled speculation of collusion between the LAF and Hezbollah. However, LAF leadership firmly denied such claims, emphasising that their only interaction with Hezbollah was limited to a deconfliction policy not unlike the one between US and Russian forces in Syria.[37]
Lebanese ground forces encountered improvised explosive devices (IEDs), fortified fighting positions, and suicide bombers, but years of sustained operations had already hollowed out the Islamic State’s defences. A steady barrage of air and artillery fire paved the way for the advancing troops. Over 11 days, the Lebanese Air Force flew 141 hours of combat missions. One of the seventy US military advisors in the country, observing the LAF’s coordinated use of ISR, precision air strikes, artillery, infantry, armour, and special operations forces, described the campaign as ‘twenty-first century maneuver warfare by a modern military.’[38]
Though delivery of the first two A-29s was still two months away, the 4th Squadron had received its third Cessna in December 2016, and all three aircraft were now configured to carry Hellfires. Additionally, the Lebanese Army fielded a game-changing new weapon it had received several years earlier from the Americans: M712 ‘Copperhead’ 155-millimetre laser-guided artillery rounds. Flying parallel to the gun-target line, the Cessna could use its laser designator to guide in round after round with deadly precision. During Fajr al-Jaroud, the Lebanese Army fired 130 Copperhead rounds, including a blistering thirty-three in just thirty minutes at the operation’s climax.[39]
The Islamic State’s position collapsed in mere days, shrinking to a pocket of just twenty square kilometres by 27 August – down from the 120 square kilometres it had occupied at the outset. However, the LAF never launched a final assault; with the operation proving a stunning success, an alarmed Hezbollah quickly intervened to negotiate a ceasefire, allowing the remaining Islamic State fighters to retreat into Syria in exchange for information on the nine LAF soldiers captured three years earlier. Though all nine had been killed, the deal allowed the LAF to recover their bodies. On 28 August, approximately four hundred Islamic State fighters and camp followers departed on buses for eastern Syria.[40]
Operation Fajr al-Jaroud killed more than 50 Islamic State fighters, at the cost of nine LAF soldiers killed and 100 wounded. For the first time since the civil war, the LAF successfully conducted a theatre-level joint operation, demonstrating its ability to effectively utilise US security assistance.[41] Yet, the success owed to more than just the two-week operation. “When the battle is discussed, many people marvel at the short period of time that it was limited to,” said Colonel A.M. “They do not realize that it came as a result of three years of continuous targeting that exhausted the terrorists’ infrastructure and killed many of them.”[42]
Lebanese Air Force aircraft in the hangar at Hamat Air Base, foreground, left to right: SA.330 Super Puma, UH-1H Huey II, SA.342L Gazelle; background, left to right: AC-208 Eliminator, A-29B Super Tucano, Bell 212. (Source: Author)
Conclusion
Hezbollah’s efforts to undermine and overshadow the LAF failed to erode its legitimacy as Lebanon’s principal source of security. The success of the joint operation against the Islamic State spoke for itself.[43] Despite limited resources, the Lebanese Air Force played a decisive role. From the Dinniyeh operation in 2000 to the heli-bombers over Nahr al-Bared in 2007 and the precision airstrikes in the Bekaa Valley from 2014 to 2017, Lebanese aviators found ways – often audacious improvisations – to mobilise air power against violent extremist organisations. What began as a force rebuilt around hand-me-down Hueys gradually evolved into a capable mix of helicopters, crewed fixed-wing aircraft, and UAVs performing ISR, light-attack, and mobility missions. This transformation depended on steady but limited US security assistance: surplus aircraft, grant-funded upgrades, foreign military sales, and training programs that produced a new generation of skilled aviators.
Yet US assistance alone cannot account for the LAF’s battlefield performance. At every stage, Lebanese officers, NCOs, and technicians adapted faster than their inventory changed. They welded together heli-bombers when they lacked aircraft capable of striking hardened urban positions. They mastered precision weapons that they had never fired in training. They built tactics around a single missile-toting Cessna, rationing its firepower while keeping it on station as the country’s only persistent ISR asset. They overcame shortages in personnel, spare parts, and navigational equipment through ingenuity, improvisation, and a deep sense of obligation to the soldiers fighting below.
By the time the Islamic State threatened Lebanon’s northeastern frontier, the Lebanese Air Force had become something unexpected: not a conventional air force in the American sense, but an adaptable, hybrid force optimised for Lebanon’s terrain, politics, and threats. Its air campaign from 2014 to 2017, though modest by comparison with the coalition’s industrial-scale air power in Operation Inherent Resolve, proved decisive along the Islamic State’s western flank, steadily degrading militant capabilities until Operation Fajr al-Jaroud finally drove them from Lebanese territory.
From its rebirth in the 1990s through its campaign against the Islamic State, the history of Lebanese air power demonstrates that modest US security assistance, when paired with Lebanese ingenuity, produced an outsized strategic effect. The Lebanese Air Force did not win battles because it possessed the most technologically advanced equipment, the largest fleet, or the most refined doctrine. It won because Lebanese aviators extracted maximum value from every aircraft, every munition, and every training opportunity. In doing so, they provided the Lebanese Army with the air support it needed to survive, adapt, and prevail against some of the most dangerous violent extremist groups in the world.
Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Jackson PhD is an Assistant Professor of History at the US Air Force Academy. He served as a U-28A instructor pilot, Combat Aviation Advisor, and Adaptive Precision Strike evaluator pilot in Air Force Special Operations Command, flying 236 combat missions and 125 combat support missions in support of Operations Inherent Resolve, Freedom Sentinel, Enduring Freedom, Enduring Freedom-Philippines, and Damiyan. He holds a PhD in history from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He is the author of Fallen Tigers: The Fate of America’s Missing Airmen in China during World War II (2021).
Wael Nawaf al-Taki is the manager of Strategic Defense Solutions, Ltd. He served as Chief of the Lebanese Air Force Operations Room and as an A-29 Super Tucano instructor pilot and squadron commander. In addition to flying more than 200 hours in combat operations, he spearheaded organisational and tactical reforms that enhanced air-ground integration within the Lebanese Armed Forces.
Header image: A Lebanese Air Force student prepares to fly the Embraer A-29B Super Tucano for the first time at Moody Air Force Base, Georgia (Source: US Air Force)
[1] The names of most Lebanese military officers have been withheld for security reasons.
[2] Major Wael al-Taki, oral history interview by Daniel Jackson, February 27, 2025.
[3] Department of Defense, ‘Operation Inherent Resolve: Targeted Operations to Defeat ISIS,’ Operation Inherent Resolve, 9 August 2017.
[4] National Archives and Records Administration, Record Group 330, Military Assistance Program 1000 System Master File, 1986.
[13] Orbital ATK, Mission Systems Operators Manual: Lebanon Armed Caravan SN1239, 02TMAOP-002, Fort Worth, 2016; Stephen Trimble, ‘USAF orders 2nd Cessna Caravan for Lebanon,’FlightGlobal, 18 January 2012.
[17] Aram Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, Draft, (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic & International Studies, 2017), p. 9.
